¥ :\ CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY GIFT OF Professor Howard B. Adelmann UliDERGRADUATE Cornell University Library DA 315.F94 1872 History of England from the fall of Wols 3 1924 009 154 802 \if\iuo 315 V, I ^^ HISTORY OF ENGLAND THE FALL OF WOLSEY TO THE DEFEAT OF THE SPANISH ARMADA. VOLUME I KENRT THE EIGMTS. Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924009154802 HISTOET OF EIGLAND THE FALL OF WOLSEY TO THE DEFEAT OF THE SPANISH ARMADA. JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE, M.A. LATE FELLOW OF EXETER COLLEOE, OXFORD. VOLTJME I. SENRY TSS EIGHTS. ■ V.o LONDON: i>' LONGMANS, GEEEN, AND CO. 1872. ■i^\\[y-\ [r/w riffht of Translation ia reserved to the Authoi\} , i * ^ 'jjtoi - '^ -Z^O In ii,i|< JOHN UUIU)S AXD SON, FBIKTEItt. PREFACE. rj^HE occasion of my uiidertaking tlie present work J- wiLS, as regards myself, an involuntary leisure forced upon me by my inability to pursue the profession wliich I had entered, but which I was forbidden by the law to exchange for another; and, secondly, the attitude towards the Reformation of the 1 6 th century which had been assumed bj' many influential thinkers in England and on the Continent. Goethe had said of Luther and Calvin that they had delayed the intellectual growth of Europe for centuries by calling in the mob to decide questions which should have been left to the thinkers. Our own Reformers, who for three centuries had been the object of enthu- siastic panegyric, were being assailed with equally violent abuse by the High Churchmen on one side, and by Liberal statesmen and political philosophers on the other. Lord Macaulay had attacked Cranmer as one of the basest of mankind. It had become the fa/shion to PREFACE. speak with extreme severity of tlie persecution of the Catholics by Elizabeth. Even writers on the whole favourable to the Reformation described the English branch of it as a good thing badly done. My own impression about it was, that the Reform- ation was both a good thing itself and that in England it had been accomplished with peculiar skill and success. The passions called out by religious controversy, which in France and Germany were the occasions of long and bloody wars, were controlled in England by the Govern- ment. I considered that on the whole the control had worked beneficially, and that those who condemned the repressive measures adopted towards the Romanists by Elizabeth's ministers had made imperfect allowance for the temper of the times and for the impossibility of tolerating opinions which led immediately to rebellion. My original purpose was to confine myself to the reign of the great Queen for whom, looking to the spirit in which her Government had been conducted, I felt great admiration. The attacks of Lingard and others upon her person'al purity I believed to be gratuitous and unjust. I intended as briefly as I could to undertake her vindication. With Cranmer and his companions, unwilHng as I was to accept Lord Macaulay's judgment upon them, I had not proposed to meddle. I shared the prevailing views of the character of Henry VIII. ; and though I considered that if all the circumstances PREFACE. ■were known to us there might be found much to modify our censure on the Archbishop's behaviour, it ivas plain that he had gone along with the King in the most questionable actions of the reign. I found myself, however, imable to handle the later features of the Revolution without going back to the begi nnin g of it. The coming of the Armada was the last act of a drama of which the divorce of Queen Catha- rine was the first. The publication of new materials, the improved accessibility of the records ia our own and other countries, and the voluminous diplomatic corre- spondence which was thus opened to inquiry, threw fresh light upon much that had been obscure and unin- telligible. I was thus led first to study more closelj', and then to undertake the narrative of, the entire period, between the original quarrel with the Papacy, and the point at which the separation of England from the Ro- man communion was finally decided. My general opinion on the character of the move- ment remains unchanged, but I have not consciously allowed myself to be influenced by my prepossessions ; for of the persons whose actions I have had to describe, there are several of the most distinguished about whom I have been compelled to sacrifice prejudices early formed, tenaciously held, and unwillingly parted with. A qualified defence of Henry VIII. was forced upon me by the f^cts of the case. With equal reluctance PREFACE. I had to acknowledge that the wisdom of Elizabeth was the wisdom of her ministers, and that her chief merit, which circumstances must divide with herself, lay in allowing her policy to be guided by Lord Burghley. I owe an apology to the public for the length to which the book has run. , I have this only to say in my defence, that nine-tenths of the materials which I have used are in MS. and therefore difficult of access. I have desired to enable my readers to form their own opinions rather than to intrude mine upon them ; and I have allowed the principal actors, therefore, to unfold their characters and motives in their own language. Thus, with my cordial thanks to the English public for the support which they have kindly extended to me in this enterprise, I close a work which has been the companion of twenty years of pleasant but of uninter- mittent labour. London, June, 1870. CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. CHAPTER I. SOCIAL CONDITION OF ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. FXOB Stationary character of Mediseval Civilization . . 2 Population of England in the Sixteenth. Century . . 3 Slowness of the Eate of Increase . . . . . . 4 Encouragement of Manufactures . . . . . . 5 The ' Great Sin ' of Idleness . . . . . . 6 Decay of Towns . . . . . . . . 8 Laws of Landlord and Tenant . . . . . . 10 The Feudal System . . . . . . ..11 Eegiments of Labour . . . . . . • • 13 Distribution of Property .. .. .. 14 Sumptuary Laws . . . . . . . . 15 Their Value as morally declaratory . . . . 16 Wages and Prices . . . . ... . . 20 State Interference . . . . . . . . 26 General Prosperity of Labour . , . . . . 28 Labour and Capital . . . . . . . . 30 The Eights of Property . . . . . . . . 31 The Commercial Spirit . . . . . . • • 33 Interference with the Eights of Property in Defence of the Poor . . . . . . . . . . 34 Prosperity of the People . . . . . . . . 36 CONTENTS. Incomes and Duties of the Higher Classes Cost of the Royal Estahlishment . . The Country Gentlemen and the Clergy Country Houses in England Habits of the People . . The ' Glory of Hospitality ' Hahits of Country Gentlemen The Clergy and the Laity Education Organization of Trade . . The London Companies . . Organization of Trade . . Education of the Poor . . Illustrative Statutes . . The Handloom Weavers . . Organization of Manufacturers The System decays . . The Change . . Military Training . . English Archery . . Military Training Games and Amusements . . Eise of the English Drama A Masque at Greenwich English Poor Laws . . Neglect of Duty by the Eeligious Houses English Poor Laws Organization of Charity .-. Act of 1531 Concluding Summary CONTENTS. ■ CHAPTEE II. TBE LAST TEARS OF TSE ADMIKISTSATION WOLSEY. OF Struggles between Clergy and Laity The Monasteries in the 15th. Century The Warnings . . Intended Eeformation by Wolsey . . The one Eesident Bishop (Greneral Condition of the Church . . The Supplication of the Beggars . . Divorce of Catheriae of Arragon . . The Succession Eecollections of the Wars of the Eoses Possible Claimants for the Crown . . Legitimacy of the Princess Mary questioned Marriage of Henry and Catherine Character of Catherine Henry's own Feelings Letter of Henry The Spanish Alliance Policy of Wolsey Wolsey's Scheme of Church Eeform Wolsey will save Europe and the World The ' Divorce ' submitted to the Pope The Papal Jurisdiction on its Trial Difficulties of the Pope's Position Death of De Lautrec Conduct of Charles Wolsey proposes to retire Proposals of Campeggio . . Attitude of Catherine Public Acknowledgment of Anne Boleyn CONTENTS. Premature Intrigues The Great Council The Pope's Promise Failure of "Wolsey's Policy Temper of England The Crisis . . The Fan of Wolsey The Third Estate Persecution . . Parties in England Early Character of Henry VIII. Early History of Anne Boleyn CHAPTER III. TSE FARLIAMUlSfT OF 1529. The Consistory Courts . . The Discipline of the Clergy Temper of London Meeting of Parliament .. Speech of Sir Thomas More . . Liberties of the House of Commons Petition to the Crown . . The Petition is referred to the Bishops Reply of the Bishops Character of the Defence Proceedings in Parliament Probate and Mortuary Act . . Clergy Discipline Act Residence and Pluralities Act Opposition in the House of Lords . . The Bills are passed Humiliation of the Bishops. Prorogation of Parliament CONTENTS. ix PAGB Inhibition issued by the Pope . . . . . . 251 Appeal from the Pope to Christendom . . . . 252 Charles Y. at Bologna . . . . . . . . 254 Clement the Seventh . . . . . . . . 255 The European Powers and the Papacy . . . . 256 Mission of the Earl of "Wiltshire to the Emperor . . 258 Attitude of Clement . . . . . . . . 260 The Opinions of the Universities . . . . . . 263 Bribery and Intimidation . . . . . . 263 Conduct of the Lutherans . . . . . . 265 The University of Paris . . . . . . . . 267 Letter of Eeginald Pole . . . . . . . . 272 Oxford and Cambridge . . . . . . . . 273 The King's Eemedy . . . . . . . . 276 Submission of Oxford . . . . . . . . 278 Similar Proceedings at Cambridge .. .. 278 A Sunday at Windsor . . . . . . . . 279 Eesults of the Collection of Opinions . . . . 283 The King's Book . . . . . . . • 285 CHAPTEE lY. CHURCH AXD STA TE. Change in the Position of the Clergy The Statutes of Provisors The Clergy in the Premunire They are Fined The King must be called Head of the Church Eesistance of the Clergy . . They are compelled to submit Attempt to poison the Bishop of Eochester Poisoning declared High Treason . . Punishment of the Poisoner . . 287 289 294 29s 296 298 299 301 3°3 305 CONTEN'TS. General Excitement in tlie Country . . Act against the Gipsies . . Jolin Scott tlie Ediaburgh Prophet . . Story of the Nun of Kent The Opinions of the TJniTersitieS read in Parliament The Address of the Lords to the Pope . . The King and Queen Catherine separate The Party of Insurrection PerUs of the Nation Levy of the Eiue upon the Clergy Scene at St Paul's Convocation and the Body of Tracy . . Benefit of Clergy Eeform of the Court of Arches Evasion of the Mortmaiu Act Payment of Annates Petition of the Clergy against the See of Eome The Annates Act passed conditionally . . The Convocation surrender their right of Independent Legislation . . Conclusion of the Legislative Eevolution . . Effects,of the Change Sir Thomas More resigns the Seals Protest and Death of Archbishop Warham . . 308 310 3" 312 327 328 335 336 337 338 339 342 344 347 35° 351 354 355 357 359 360 360 363 CHAPTER V. MARSIAGS OF SJSNSY AND ANNE BOLETN. Liberty of Opinion General Espionage Information forwarded to the Goverrmient The Greenwich Observants Father Peto's Sermon .364 365 366 368 370 CONTENTS. xi FADE Eeligious Orders in England • • 375 Position of Parties in Europe •■ 376 Meeting of the Kings .. 382 The Interview at Calais . . .. 387 Henry returns to England • • 397 Vatican Diplomacy • • 399 InterYiew between the Emperor and Pope . . . . 402 The Bologna Conference . . . . 406 The King marries . . 411 Eecapitulation . . . . 411 Papal Brief and Menace of Excommunication • • 414 Intrigues of Charles at Paris • ■ 419 Francis inclines to the Pope . . 420 Isolation of England . . 422 Meeting of Parliament . • • 423 Economic Legislation 423 Act of Apparel • • 424 Act of Appeals . . 426 Double Aspect of this Act • • 434 The Divorce Question before Convocation . . • • 439 Cranmer applies for License to proceed with the ( Dause 441 Terms of the Application . . 442 The King's Eeply ■ • 443 The Meaning of that Eeply ■ ■ 445 The Court at Dunstable . . . . 446 Cranmer's Sentence • • 447 Preparations for the Coronation of Anne ■ • 451 Scene upon the Thames . . • • 451 Pageant in the City .. 452 The Procession ■ . 453 The Appearance of the Queen • • 454 Westminster Abbey .. 458 The King's Letter to the Emperor . . 461 The Emperor's Eeply ■ • 463 Prospects in England • • 464 xii CONTENTS. FAQB The Princess Dowager . . . . . . . . 466 Eoyal Proclamation . . . . . . . . 467 Sj'mptoms of Disaffection in tlie Northern Conntios . . 468 Queen Catherine and the Deputation of the Council . . 469 The Title of Princess Dowager . . . . . . 470 Catherine's Protest . . . . . . . . 474 Letter of Archbishop Cranmer to the English Ambas- sador in Germany . . . . . . , . 477 Martyrdom of Frith and Hewett . . . . . . 478 Eetribution . . . . . . . i. . . 479 CHAPTEE Vr. TME PROTESTANTS. Ecclesiastical Agitation in the Fourteenth Century . . 480 Disputes with the Papacy . 481 Presentations to Benefices . . . 482 Statute of Carlisle • 483 First Statute of Provisors • 485 Limitation of the Papal Prerogative . 486 Boniface IX. . . • 487 Excommunication of the Bishops . . • 487 Conduct of the Two Houses of Parliament . • 489 Concessions of the Pope . . • 490 The Lollards . . • 491 Life of Wycliffe • 492 Translation of the Bible . . • 493 Lollard Theory of Property • 494 Insurrection of Wat Tyler • 495 Decline of the Influence of "Wycliffe • 496 Act de Heretico comhurendo • 498 Sir John Oldcastle . 501 Termination of the LoUard Movement ■ 502 CONTENTS. New Biitli of Protestantism The Christian Brothers . . Luther and Tyndal The Antwerp Printing Press Composition of the Protestant Body Their Doctrines and Character Feeling towards them of Henry VIII. "Wolsey's Persecution Barnes and Latimer prosecuted Barnes does Penance at St Paul's . . Story of Anthony Dalaber Heresy at Oxford Books introduced from Germany . . Order for the Arrest of Thomas Garret Garret's Capture and Escape Vespers at Frideswide's . . Dalaber seized and imprisoned . . Search for Books The Heads of Houses consult an Astrologer Second Capture of Garret at Bristol The Bishop of Lincoln . . Extinction of the Movement at Oxford The History of Protestantism the History of Chancellorship of Sir Thomas More Laws for the Prosecution of Heretics Case of Thomas Philips . . Case of John Field Contrast between Wolsey and More Martyrdom of BUney Martyrdom of James Bainham Feelings of the People . . Pavier the Townclerk Eoods and Eelica The Eood of Dovercourt . . Early Life of Latimer its XIU FAQB S°4 504 508 Sio 51° 516 517 S18 521 522 524 525 525 528 531 535 539 540 543 545 547 Mart)rrs 547 550 551 552 556 559 560 561 564 565 567 568 571 CONTENTS. Latimer's training at Cambridge His Fame as a Preacher Practical Character of his Mind He is cited before the Bishops The King interposes to save him History of Thomas Cromwell His ■wandering Youth . . His Services to Wolsey . . He becomes Henry's Secretary Will of Thomas Cromwell — 1529 573 574 575 579 582 583 584 588 588 590 CHAPTER I. SOCIAL CONDITION OF ENGLAND IN THB SIXTEENTH CENTURY. IN periods like the present, when, knowledge is every day extending, and the habits and thoughts of mankind are perpetually changing under the influence of new discoveries, it is no easy matter to throw our- selyes back into a time in which for centuries the Euro- pean world grew upon a single type, in which the forms of the father's thoughts were the forms of the son's, and the late descendant was occupied in treading into paths the footprints of his distant ancestors. So abso- lutely has change become the law of our present con- dition, that it is identified with energy and moral health ; to cease to change is to lose place in the great race; and to pass away from off the earth with the same convictions which we found when we entered it, is to have missed the best object for which we now seem to exist. It has been, however, with the race of men as it has been with the planet which they inhabit. As we look / / VOL. I. 1 2 • REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. i. back over history, we see times of change and progress alternating with other times when life and thought have settled into permanent forms ; when mankind, as if by common consent, have ceased to seek for increase of knowledge, and, contented with what they possess, have endeavoured to make use of it for purposes of moral cultivation. Such was the condition of the Greeks through many ages before the Persian war; such was that of the Romans tUl the world revenged itself upon its conquerors by the introduction among them of the habits of the conquered ; and such again became the condition of Europe when the Northern nations grafted the religion and the laws of the West- em empire on their own hardy natures, and shaped out that wonderful spiritual and political organization which remained unshaken for a thousand years. The aspirant after sanctity in the fifteenth century of the Christian era found a model which he could imi- tate in detail in the saint of the fifth. The gentleman at the CoTirt of Edward lY. or Charles of Burgundy could imagine no nobler type of heroism than he found in the stories of King Arthur's knights. The forms of life had become more elaborate — the surface of it more polished — but the Hfe itself remained essentially the same ; it was the development of the same conception, of human excellence ; just as the last orders of Gothic architecture were the development of the first, from which the idea had worked its way till the force of it was exhausted. A condition of things differing alike both outwardly ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 3 and inwardly from tLat into wHch a happier fortune has introduced ourselves, is necessarily obscure to us. In the alteration of our own character, we have lost the key which would interpret the characters of our fathers, and the great men even of our own English history before the Reformation seem to us almost like the fossil skeletons of another order of beings. Some broad con- clusions as to what they were are at least possible to us, however -, and we are able to determine, with tolerable certainty, the social condition of the people of this coun- try, such as it was before the movements of the sixteenth century, and during the process of those movements. The extent of the population can only be rudely conjectured. A rough census was taken at the time of the Armada, when it was found to be something under five millions ; but anterior to this I can find no authority on which I can rely with any sort of confidence. It is my impression, however, from a number of reasons — each in itself insignificant, but which taken together leave little doubt upon my mind — that it had attained thai; number by a growth so slow as to be scarcely percepti- ble, and had nearly approached to it many generations before. Simon Fish, in The Supplication of Beggars,^ says that the number of households in England in 153 1 was 520,000. His calculation is of the most random kind ; for he rates the number of parishes at 52,000, with ten households on an average in each parish. A mistake so preposterous respecting the number of ' Printed in Foxe, yfil. iy. p. 659, Tpwnsend's edition, 4 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [ch. i. parishes stows the great ignorance of educated men upon the subject. The ten households in each parish may, probably (in some parts of the country), have been a correct computation ; but this tells us little with respect to the aggregate numbers, for the households were very large — the farmers, and the gentlemen also, usually having all the persons whom they employed re- siding under their own roof. Neither from this, there- fore, nor from any other positive statement which I have seen, can I gather any conclusion that may be depended upon. But when we remember the exceed- ing slowness with which the population multiplied in a time in which we can accurately measure it — that is to say, from 1588 to the opening of the last century — ■ under circumstances in every way more favourable fo an increase, I think we may assume that the increase was not so great between 1500 and 1588, and that, previous to 1500, it did not more than keep pace with the waste from civil and foreign war. The causes, indeed, were wholly wanting which lead to a rapid growth of numbers. Numbers now increase with the increase of employment and with the facilities which are provided by the modern system of labour for the establishment of independent households. At present, any able-bodied unskUled labourer earns, as soon as he has arrived at man's estate, as large an amount of wages as he wiU earn at any subsequent time; and having no connection with his employer beyond the re- ceiving the due amount of weekly money from him, and thinking himSelf as well able to marry as he is likely ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 5 to be, lie takes a wife, and is usually the father of a family before he is thirty. Before the Befonuation, not only were early marriages determinately dis- couraged, but the opportunity for them did not exist. A labourer living in a cottage by himseK was a rare exception to the rule ; and the work of the field was performed generally, as it now is in the large farms in America and Australia, by servants who lived in the families of the squire or the farmer, and who, while in that position, commonly remained single, and married only when by prudence they had saved a sufficient sum to enable them to enter some other position. Checked by circumstances of this kind, population would necessarily remain almost stationary, and a tend- ency to an increase was not of itself regarded by the statesmen of the day as any matter for congratulation or as any evidence of national prosperity. Not an in- crease of population, which would facilitate production and beat down wages by competition, but the increase of the commonwealth, the sound and healthy main- tenance of the popidation already existing, were the chief objects which the Grovernment proposed to itself ; and although Henry .VIII. carefully nursed his manu- factures, there is sufficient proof in the grounds alleged for the measures to which he resorted, that there was little redundancy of occupation. In a statute, for instance, for the encouragement of the linen manufactures, it is said ' that — ' The King's 1 24 Hen. VIII. cap. 4. 6 REIGN OF BEMRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. i. Higliness, calling to his most blessed remembrance tbe great number of idle people daily increasing through- out this his Realm, supposes that one great cause there- of is by the continued bringing iato the same the great number of wares and merchandise made, and brought Out and from, the parts beyond the sea into this hi3 Realm, ready wrought by manual occupation ; amongst the which wares one kind of merchandise in great quantity, which is linen cloth of divers sorts made in divers countries beyond the sea, is daily conveyed into this Realm ; which great quantity of linen cloth so brought is consumed and spent' within the same ; by reason whereof not only the said strange countries where the said Knen cloth is made, by the policy and industry of making and vending the same, are greatly enriched ; and a marvellous great number of their people, men, women, and children, are set on work and occupation, and kept from idleness, to the great further- ance and advancement of their commonwealth ; but also contrarywise the inhabitants and subjects of this Realm, for lack of like policy and industry, are compelled to buy all or most part of the linen cloth consumed in the same, amounting to inestimable sums of money. And also the people of this Realm, as weU men as women, which should and might be Set on work, by exercise of like policy and craft of spinning, weaving, and making of cloth, lies now in idleness and otiosity, to the high displeasure of Almighty God, great diminution of the King's people, and extreme ruin, decay, and impoverish- ment of this Realm. Therefore, for reformation of ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. these things, ^% King's most Royal Majesty intending, like a most virtuous Prince, to provide remedy in the premises ; nothing so much coveting as the increase of the Commonwealth of this his Realm, with also the vir- tuous exercise of his most loving subjects and people, and to avoid that most abominable sin of idleness out of the Realm, hath, by the advice and consent of his Lords and Commons in Parliament assembled, ordained and enacted that every person occupying land for till- age, shall for every sixty acres which he hath under the plough, sow one quarter of an acre in flax or hemp.' This Act was designed immediately to keep the wives and children of the poor in work in their own houses ; ^ but it leaves no doubt that manufactures in England had not of themselves that tendency to self- development which would encourage an enlarging population. The woollen manufactures similarly ap- pear, from the many statutes upon them, to have been vigorous at a fixed level, but to have shown no tend- ency to rise beyond that level. With a fixed market and a fixed demand, production continued uniform. A few years subsequent, indeed, to the passing of ' Bishop Latimer, in a sermon at Paul's Cross, snggested another pur- pose whioli this Act might answer. One of his audience, writing to the mayor of Plymouth, after describing the exceedingly disrespectful lan- guage in which he spoke of the high church dignitaries, continues, ' The king,' quoth he, ' made a marvellous good Act of Parliament that certain men should sow every of them two acres of hemp ; but it were all too little were it so much more to hang the thieves that be in England.' — Suppression of thf Monasteries, Cam- den Society's publications, p. 38. 8 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. i. the Act whicli I have quoted, a very curious complaint is entered in the statute-book, from the surface of which we should gather, that so far from increasing, manu- factures had alarmingly declined. The fact mentioned may bear another meaning, and a meaning far more favourable to the state of the country ; although, if such a phenomenon were to occur at the present time, it could admit of but one interpretation. In the i8th and 19th of the 3and of Henry YIII., all the important towns in England, from the Tweed to the Land's End, are stated, one by one, to have fallen into serious decay. Usually when we meet with language of this kind, we suppose it to mean nothing more than an awakening to the consciousness of evils which had long existed, and which had escaped notice only because no one was alive to them.' In the present instance, however, the language was too strong and too detailed to allow of this explanation; and the great body of the English towns undoubtedly were declining in wealth and in the number of their inhabitants. ' Divers and many beautiful houses of habitation,' these statutes say, ' built in tyme past within their walls and liberties, now are fallen down and decayed, and at this day remain unre-edified, and do He as desolate and vacant grounds, many of them nigh adjoining to the High- streets, replenished with much uncleanness and filth, with pits, sellars, and vaults lying open and uncovered, to the great perill and danger of the inhabitants and other the King's subjects passing by the same ; and some houses be very weak and feeble, ready to fall down, and therefore dangerous ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 9 to pass by, to the great decay and Kinderance of the said boroughs and towns." At present the decay of a town implies the decay of the trade of the town ; and the decay of all towns simul- taneously would imply a general coUapse of the trade of the whole country. "Walled towns, however, before the Reformation, existed for other purposes than as the centre points of industry : they existed for the protec- tion of property and life : and although it is not un- likely that the agitation of the Reformation itself did to some degree interrupt the occupation of the people, yet I believe that the true accoimt of the phenomenon which then so much disturbed the parliament, is, that one of their purposes was no longer required ; the towns flagged for a time because the country had become se- cure. The woollen manufacture in Worcestershire was spreading into the open country,'' and, doubtless, in other counties as well ; and the ' beautiful houses ' which had fallen into decay were those which, in the old times of insecurity, had been occupied by wealthy merchants and tradesmen, who were now enabled, by a strong and settled government, to dispense with the shelter of locked gates and fortified walls, and remove their residences to more convenient situations. It was, in fact, the first symptom of the impending social revo- lution. Two years before the passing of this Act, the magnificent Hengrave Hall, in Sufiblk, had been com- 1 32 Hen. VIII. cap. 18. » 25 Hen. VIII. cap. 18. 10 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. I. pleted by Sir Thomas Kitson, ' mercer of London,' * and Sir Thomas Kitson was but one of many of the rising merchants who were now able to root themselves on the land by the side of the Norman nobility, first to rival, and then slowly to displace them. This mighty change, however, was long ia silent progress before it began to tell on the institutions of the country. When city burghers bought estates, the law insisted jealously on their accepting with them all the feudal obligations. Attempts to use the land as ' a commodity ' were, as we shall presently see, angrily re- pressed ; while, again, in the majority of instances, such persons endeavoured, as they do at present, to cover the recent origin of their families by adopting the manners of the nobles, instead of transferring the habits of the towns to the parks and chases of the English counties. The old English organization maintained its full ac- tivity ; and the duties of property continued to be for another century more considered than its rights. Turning, then, to the tenure of land — for if we would understand the condition of the people, it is to this point that our first attention must be directed — we find that through the many complicated varieties of it there was one broad principle which bore equally upon every class, that the land of England must provide for the defence of England. The feudal system, though practically modified, was still the organizing principle of the nation, and the owner of land was bound to 1 Aniiqvitm of Hengrave, by Sir T. Gage. ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. n military service at home whenever occasion required. Further, the land was to be so administered, that the accustomed number of families supported by it should not be diminished, and that the State should suffer no injury from the carelessness or selfishness of the owners.* Land never was private property in that per- sonal sense of property in which we speak of a thing as our own, with which we may do as we please ; and in the administration of estates, as indeed in the ad- ministration of all property whatsoever, duty to the State was at all times supposed to override private interest or inclination. Even tradesmen, who took advantage of the fluctuations of the market, were re- buked by parliament for ' their greedy and covetous minds,' 'as more regarding their own singular lucre and profit than the commonweal of the Realm ; ' ^ and although, in an altered world, neither industry nor en- terprise will thrive except under the stimulus of self- interest, we may admire the confidence which in another age expected every man to prefer the advantage of the community to his own. All land was held upon a strictly military principle. It was the representative of authority, and the holder or the owner took rank in the army of the State according to the natm-e of his con- nexion with it. It was first broadly divided among the great nobility holding immediately under the Crown, who, above and beyond the ownership of their private ' See especially 2 Hen. VII. capp. 16 and 19. 2 24 Hen. VIII. cap. 9. 2 24 Hen. VIII. cap. 9. 12 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [ch. i. estates, were the Lords of the Fee throughout their pre- sidency, and possessed in right of it the services of knights and gentlemen who held their manors under them, and who followed their standard in war. Under the lords of manors, again, small freeholds and copy- holds were held of various extent, often forty shilling and twenty shilling value, tenanted by peasant occu- piers, who thus, on their own land, lived as free Eng- lishmen, maintaining by their own free labour them- selves and their families. There was thus a descending scale of owners, each of whom possessed his separate right, which the law guarded and none might violate ; yet no one of whom, again, was independent of an au- thority higher than himself j and the entire body of the English free possessors of the soil was interpenetrated by a coherent organization which converted them into a perpetually subsisting army of soldiers. The extent of land which was held by the petty freeholders was very large, and the possession of it was jealously treasured ; the private estates of the nobles and gentle- men were either cultivated by their own servants, oi- let out, as at present, to free tenants ; or (in earlier times) were occupied by villains, a class who, without being bondmen, were expected to furnish further serv- ices than those of the field, services which were limited by the law, and recognized by an outward ceremony, a solemn oath and promise from the villain to his lord. Villainage, in the reign of Henry VIII., had practically ceased. The name of it last appears upon the statute book in the early years of the reign of Richard II., ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 13 when the disputes between villains and their liege lords on their relative rights had furnished matter for cum- brous lawsuits, and by general consent the relation had merged of itself into a more liberal form. Thus serfdom had merged or was rapidly merging into free servitude; but it did not so merge that labouring men, if they pleased, were allowed to live ia idleness. Every man was regimented somewhere; and although the peasantry, when at full age, were allowed, under restrictions, their own choice of masters, yet the restrictions both on mas- ters and servants were so severe as to prevent either from taking advantage of the necessities of the other, or from terminating through caprice or levity, or for any insufficient reason, a connection presumed to be permanent.' Through all these arrangements a single aim is visible, that every man in England should have his definite place and definite duty assigned to him, and that no human beiag should be at liberty to lead at hia own pleasure an unaccountable existence. The disci- pHne of an army was transferred to the details of social life, and it issued in a chivalrous perception of the meaning of the word duty, and in ihe old characteristic spirit of English loyalty. From the regulations with respect to land,. a coarser advantage was also derived, of a kind which at the pre- sent time wiU be efiiectively appreciated. It is a com- mon matter of dispute whether landed estates should be ■ See especially the 4tli of the 5th of Elizabeth. t4 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [ch. i. large or small ; whether it is better that the land should be divided among small proprietors, cultivating their own ground, or that it should follow its present tend- ency, and be shared by a limited and constantly dimin- ishing number of wealthy landlords. The advocates for a peasant proprietary tell us truly, that a landed monopoly is dangerous ; that the possession of a spot of ground, though it be but a few acres, is the best security for loyalty, giving the State a pledge for its owner, and creating in the body of the nation a free, vigorous, and manly spirit. The advocates for the large estates tell us, that the masses are too ill-educated to be trusted with independence ; that without authority over them, these small proprietors become wastefdl, careless, im- provident; that the free spirit becomes a democratic and dangerous spirit ; and finally, that the resources of the land cannot properly be brought out by men with- out capital to cultivate it. Either theory is plausible. The advocates of both can support their arguments with an appeal to experience ; and the verdict of fact has not as yet been pronounced emphatically. The problem will be resolved in the future history of this country. It was also nobly and skUfully re- solved in the past. The knights and nobles retained the authority and power which was attached to the lordships of the fees. They retained extensive estates in their own hands or in the ocoupatiou of their im- mediate tenants ; but the large proportion of the lands was granted out by them to smaller owners, and the expenditure of their own incomes in the wages and ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 15 maintenance of their vast retinues left but a small margia for indulgence in luxuries. The necessities of their position obliged them to regard their property rather as a revenue to be administered in trust, than as ' a fortune ' to be expended in indulgence. Before the Reformation, while the differences of social degree were enormous, the differences in habits of Hfe were compa- ratively slight, and the practice of men in these things was curiously the reverse of our own. Dress, which now scarcely suffices to distiuguish the master from his servant, was then the symbol of rank, prescribed by statute to the various orders of society as strictly as the regimental uniform to officers and privates ; diet also was prescribed, and with equal strictness ; but the diet of the nobleman was ordered down to a level which was then within the reach of the poorest labourer. In 1336, the following law was enacted by the Parliament of Edward III. : ^ ' Whereas, heretofore through the ex- cessive and over-many sorts of costly meats which the people of this Realm have used more than elsewhere, many mischiefs have happened to the people of this Realm — for the great men by these excesses have been sore grieved ; and the lesser people, who only endeavour to imitate the great ones in such sort of meats, are much impoverished, whereby they are not able to aid them- selves, nor their liege lord, in time of need, as they ought ; and many other evils have happened, as well to their souls as their bodies — our Lord the King, desiring A JO Ed. III. cap. 3. i6 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [ch. i. the common profit as 'well of the great men as of the common people of his Realm, and considering the evils, grievances, and mischiefs aforesaid, by the common assent of the prelates, earls, barons, and other nobles of his said Realm, and of the commons of the same Realm, hath ordained and established that no man, of what estate or condition soever he be, shall cause himself to be served, in his house or elsewhere, at dinner, meal, or supper, or at any other time, with more than two courses, and each mess of two sorts of victuals at the utmost, be it of flesh or fish, with the common sorts of pottage, without sauce or any other sorts of victuals. And if any man choose to have sauce for his mess, he may, provided it be not made at great cost ; and if fish or flesh be to be mixed therein, it shall be of two sorts only at the utmost, either fish or flesh, and shall stand instead of a mess, except only on the principal feasts of the year, on which days every man may be served with three courses at the utmost, after the manner aforesaid.' Sumptuary laws are among the exploded fallacies which we have outgrown, and we smile at the unwis- dom which could expect to regulate private habits and manners by statute. Yet some statutes may be of moral authority when they cannot be actually enforced, and may have been regarded, even at the time at which they were issued, rather as an authoritative declaration of what wise and good men considered to be right, than as laws to which obedience could be compelled. This Act, at any rate, witnesses to what was then thought to ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 17 be right by ' the great persons ' of the English realm ; and when great persons wiU. submit themselves of their fi'ee wiU to regulations which restrict their private in- dulgence, they are in little danger of disloyalty from those whom fortune has placed below them. Such is one aspect of these old arrangements ; it is unnecessary to say that with these, as with all other institutions created and worked by human beings, the picture admits of being reversed. When by the acci- dent of birth men are placed in a position of authority, no care in their training will prevent it from falling often to singularly unfit persons. The command of a permanent military force was a temptation to ambition, to avarice, or hatred, to the indulgence of private piques and jealousies, to political discontent on private and personal grounds. A combination of three or four of the leading nobles was sufficient, when an incapable prince sat on the throne, to effect a revolution ; and the rival claims of the houses of York and Lancaster to the crown, took the form of a war unequalled in history for its fierce and determined malignancy, the whole nation tearing itself in pieces in a quarrel in which no prin- ciple was at stake, and no national object was to be gained. A more terrible misfortune never befell either this or any other country, and it was made possible only in virtue of that loyalty with which the people followed the standard, through good and evil, of their feudal superiors. It is stiU a question, however, whether the good or the evil of the system predominated ; and the answer to such question is the more difficult because we 1 8 REIGN' OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. i. hare no criterion by whicli, in these mattes, degrees of good and evil admit of being measured. Arising out of the character of the nation, it reflected this character in all its peculiarities ; and there is something truly noble in the coherence of society upon principles of fidelity. Fidelity of man to man is among the rarest excellencies of humanity, and we can tolerate large evils which arise out of such a cause. Under the feudal systenl men were held together by oaths, free acknowledgments, and reciprocal obligations, entered into by all ranks, high and low, binding servants to their masters, as well as nobles to their kings ; and in the pregnant forms of the language in which the oaths were sworn we cannot choose but see that we have lost something in exchang- ing these ties for the harsher connecting links of mutual self-interest. 'When a freeman shall do fealty to his lord,' the statute says, 'he shall hold his right hand upon the book, and shaU. say thus : — Hear you, my lord, that I shall be to you both faithful and true, and shall owe my faith to you for the land that I hold, and lawfully shall do such customs and services as my duty is to you, at the times assigned. So help me God and all his saints.* ' The villain,' also, ' when he shall do fealty to his lord, shall hold his right hand over the book, and shall say : — ^Hear you, my lord, that I from this day forth unto you shall be true and faithful, and shall owe you fealty for the land which I hold of you in vUlanage ; and that no evil or damage will I see concerning you, but I will ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. '9 defend and warn you to my power. So help me God and all his saints.' "^ Agaia, in the distribution of the produce of land, men dealt fairly and justly with each other ; and in the material condition of the bidk of the people there is a fair evidence that the system worked efficiently and well. It worked well for the support of a sturdy high- hearted race, sound in body and fierce in spirit, and furnished with thews and sinews which, under the stimulus of those ' great shins of beef,' ^ their common diet, were the wonder of the age. ' What comyn folke in all this world,' says a state paper in 1515,^ 'may compare with the comyns of England in riches, freedom, liberty, welfare, and all prosperity ? What comyn folke is so mighty, so strong in the felde, as the_ comyns of England ? ' The relative numbers of the French and English armies which fought at Cressy and Agincourt ^ Statutes of the Realm,, vol. i. (edit. 1817), pp. 227-8. ^ 'The artificers and husband- men make most account of such meat as they may soonest come by and have it quickliest ready. Their food consisteth principally in beef, and such meat as the butcher selleth, that is to say, mutton, veal, lamb, pork, whereof the one findeth great store in the markets adjoining ; be- sides souse, brawn, bacon, fruit, pies of fruit, fowls of sundry sorts, as the other wanteth it not at home by bis own provision, which is at the best hand and commonly least charge. In feasting, this latter sort — I mean the husbandmen — do exceed after their manner, especially at bridals and such odd meetings, where it is incredible to tell what meat is consumed and spent.' — Habkison's Description of Englamd, p. 282. The Spanish nobles who came into England with Philip were as- tonished at the diet which they found among the poor. ' These English,' said one of them, 'have their houses made of sticks and dirt, but they fare com- monly so well as the king.'— Ibid. P- 313- 3 State Papers, Hen. VIII. vol. ii. p. io. 20 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [ch. i. may have been exaggerated, but no allowance for ex- aggeration will affect the greatness of tbose exploits; and in stories of authentic actions under Henry VIII., where the accuracy of the account is undeniable, no dis- parity of force made Englishmen shrink from enemies wherever they could meet them. Again and again a few thousands of them carried dismay into the heart of France. Four hundred adventurers, vagabond appren- tices, from London,^ who formed a volunteer corps in the Calais garrison, were for years the terror of Nor- mandy. In the very frolic of conscious power they ■fought and plundered, without pay, without reward, except what they could win for themselves ; and when they fell at last, they fell only when surrounded by six times their number, and were cut to pieces in careless desperation. Invariably, by friend and enemy alike, the English are described as the fiercest people in all Europe (the English wild beasts, Benvenuto Cellini calls them) ; and this great physical power they owed to the profuse abundance in which they lived, and to the soldier's training in which every man of them was bred from childhood. The state of the working classes can, however, be more certainly detei-mined by a comparison of their wages with the prices of food. Both were regulated, so far as regulation was possible, by act of parliament, and we have therefore data of the clearest kind by which to judge. The majority of agricultural labourers lived, ' Hall, p. 646. ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 21 as I have said, in the houses of their employers ; this, however, was not the case with all, and if we can satisfy ourselves as to the rate at which those among the poor were able to live who had cottages of their own, we may be assured that the rest did not live worse at their master's tables. Wheat, the price of which necessarily varied, averaged in the middle of the fourteenth century ten- pence the bushel ; '■ barley averaging at the same time three shillings the quarter. With wheat the fluctua- tion was excessive ; a table of its possible variations describes it as ranging from eighteenpence the quarter to twenty shillings ; the average, however, being six and eightpence.^ When the price was above this smn, the merchants might import to bring it down ; ' when it was below this price, the farmers were allowed to ex- port to the foreign markets.* The same scale, with a scarcely appreciable tendency to rise, continued to hold until the disturbance in the value of the currency. In the twelve years from 155^^ ^ ^5^2, although once before harvest wheat rose to the extraordinary price of forty-five shillings a quarter, it fell immediately after to five shillings and four.' Six and eightpence con- tinued to be considered in parliament as the average ; ' and on the whole it seems to have been maintained for that time with little variation.'' 1 25 Ed. III. cap. r. ' Statutes of the Realm, 70I. i. p. 199. 2 3 Ed. IV. cap. 2. * 10 Hen. VI. cap. 2, 5 Stow's Chronicle. ' Statutes of Philip and Mary. ' From 1565 to 1575 there was REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. I. Beef and pork were a halfpenny a pound — mutton, was three farthings. They were fixed at these prices by the 3rd of the 24th of Hen. YIII. But the Act was unpopular both with buyers and with sellers. The old practice had been to sell in the gross, and under that arrangement the rates had been generally lower. Stow says, ^ ' It was this year enacted that butchers should sell their beef and mutton by weight — beef for a halfpenny the pound, and mutton for three farthings ; which being devised for the great commodity of the realm (as it was thought), hath proTed far otherwise : for at that time fat oxen were sold for six and twenty shillings and eightpence the piece ; fat wethers for three shillings and fourpence the piece ; fat calves at a like price ; and fat lambs for twelvepence. The butchers of London sold penny pieces of beef for the relief of the poor-^every piece two pound and a half, sometimes a rapid and violent rise in the prices of all kinds of grain. AVheat stood at four and .five times its earlier rates; and in 1576, when Harrison wrote, was entirely beyond the reach of the labouring classes. ' The poor in some shires,' he says, ' are en- forced to content themselves with rye or barley, yea, and in time of dearth, many with bread made either of peas, beans, or oats, or of all to- gether and some acorns among, of which scourge the poorest do soonest taste, sith they are Ifeast able to pro- vide themselves of better. I will not say that this extremity is oft so well seen in time of plenty as of dearth, but if I should I could easily bring my trial. For, albeit that there be much more ground eared now almost in every place than hath been of late years, yet such » price of corn continues in each towu and market, that the artificer and poor labouring man is not able to reach to it, but is driven to content himself with beans, peas, oats, tares, and lentils.'— Haeeison, p. 283. The condition of the labourer was at this period deteriorating rapidly. The causes will be described in the pro- gress of this history. ' ChronMe, p. 568. ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTUR Y. 23 three pound for a penny ; and thirteen and sometimes,- fourteen of these pieces for twelvepence ; mutton eight- pence the quarter, and an hundred weight of beef for four shillings and eightpence.' The Act was repealed in consequence of the complaints against it,^ hut the, prices never fell again to what they had been, although beef sold in the gross could still be had for a halfpenny a pound in 1 570.^ Other articles of food were in the same proportion. The best pig or goose in a country market could be bought for fourpence ; a good capon for threepence or fourpence ; a chicken for a penny ; a hen for twopence.' 1 33 Hen. VIII. cap. 11. The change in the prices of such articles commenced in the beginning of the reign of Edward VI., and continued till the close of the century. A dis- cussion upon the subject, written in 1581, by Mr Edward Stafford, and containing the clearest detailed ac- count of the alteration, is printed in the Sarleian Miscellany, vol. ix. p. 139, &c. 2 Leland, Itin., voL Ti. p. 17. In large households beef used to be Baited in great quantities for winter consumption. The art of fatting cattle in the stall was imperfectly understood, and the loss of substance in the destruction of fibre by salt was less than in the falling 'off of flesh on the failure of fresh grass. The Northumberland Household Book describes the storing of salted pro- vision for the earl's establishment at Michaelmas; and men now living can remember the array of salting tubs in old-fashioned country houses. So long as pigs, poultry, and other articles of food, however, remained cheap and abundant, the salt diet could not, as Hume imagines, have been carried to an extent injurious to health ; and fresh meat, beef as well as mutton, was undoubtedly sold in all markets the whole year, round in the reign of Henry VIII., and sold at a uniform price, which it could not have been if there had been so much difficulty in procuring it. Latimer (Letters, p. 412), writ- ing to Cromwell on Christm^ Eve, 1538, speaks of his winter stock of ' beeves ' and muttons as a thing of course. 3 Stakpobd's Discourse on the State of the Secdm. It is to be un- derstood, however, that these rates applied only to articles of ordinary consumption. Capons fatted for the 24 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. I. , Strong beer, sucli as we now buy for eigbteenpence a gallon, was then a penny a gallon ; ' and table-beer dinners of the London companies ■were sometimes provided at a shilling apiece. Fresh fish was also extra- vagantly dear, and when two days a Vfeek were observed strictly as fast- ing days, it hecoraes a curious ques- tion to know how the supply was kept up. The inland counties were dependent entirely on ponds and rivers. Londo^i was provided either from the Thames or from the coast of Sussex. An officer of the Fish- mongers' Company resided at each of the Cinque Ports, whose busi- ness it was to buy the fish whole- sale from the boats and to forward it on horseback. Three hundred horses were kept for this service at Rye alone. And when an adventur- ous fisherman, taking advantage of a fair wind, sailed up the Thames with his catch and sold it first hand at London Bridge, the innovation ■was considered dangerous, and the Mayor of Eye petitioned against it. Salmon, sturgeon, porpoise, roach, dace, flounders, eels, &c., were caught in considerable quanti- ties in the Thames, below London Bridge, and further up, pike and trout. The fishermen had great nets that stretched all across Limehouse- reach four fathoms deep. Fresh fish, however, remained the luxury of the rich, and the poor were left to the salt cod, ling, and herring brought in annually by the Iceland fleet. Fresh herrings sold for five or six a penny in the time of Henry VIIL, and were never cheaper. Fresh salmon five and six shillings apiece. Eoach, dace, and flounders, from two to four shillings a hundred. Pike and barbel varied with their length. The barbel a foot long sold for fivepence, and twopence was added for each additional inch : a pike a foot long sold for sixteen pence, and increased a penny an inch. — Guildhall MS. Journals 12, 13. 14. IS- 1 'When the brewer buyeth a quarter of malt for two shillings, then he shall sell a gallon of the best ale for two farthings ; when he buy- eth a quarter malt for four shillings, the gallon shall be four farthings, and so forth . . . and that hb sell a quart of ale upon his table for a far- thing.' — Assize of Brewers ; from a MS. in Balliol College, Oxford. By an order of the Lord Mayor and Council of the City of London, in September, 1529, the price of a kilderkin of single beer was fixed at a shilling, the kilderkin of double beer at two shillings ; but this included the cask ; and the London brewei-s replied with a re- monstrance saying that the casks were often destroyed or made away with, and that an allowance had to be made for bad debts. 'Your be- seechers,' they said, ' have many city debtors, for many of them which ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 25 less than a halfpenny. French and German wines were eightpence the gallon. Spanish and Portuguese wines a shilling. This was the highest price at which the hest wines might be sold; and if there was any fault in quality or quantity, the dealers forfeited four times the amount.' Rent, another important consider- ation, cannot he fixed so accuratelj', for parliament did not interfere with it. Here, however, we are not with- out very tolerable information. 'My father,' says Latimer,' ' was a yeoman, and had no lands of his own ; only he had a. farm of three or four pounds hy the year at the uttermost, and hereupon he tilled so much as kept half-a-dozen men. He had walk for a hundred sheep. have taken much beer into their houses suddenly goeth to the sanc- tuary, some keep their houses — some purchase the king's protection, and some, when they die, be reckoned poor, and of no value, and many of your said beseechers be for the most part against such debtors remediless and suffer great losses.' They offered to supply their cus- tomers with sixteen gallon casks of single beer for eleven pence, and the same quantity of double beer for a shilling, the cask included. And this offer was accepted. The corporation, however, re- turned two years after to their ori- ginal order. — ■ Guildhall Itecords, MS. Journal 13, pp. 210, 236. » 28 Hen. VIII. cap. 14. The prices assessed, being a maximum, applied to the best wines of each class. In 153 1, the mayor and corporation ' did straitly charge and command that all such persons as sold "wines by retail within the city and liberties of the same, should from henceforth sell two gallons of the best red -n-ine for eightpence, and not above; the gallon of the best white wine for eightpence, and not above ; the pottle, quart, and pint after the same rate, upon pain of imprisonment.* The quality of the wine sold was looked into from time to time, and when found tainted, or unwhole- some, ' according to the antient customs of the city,' the heads of the vessels were broken up, and the wines in them put forth open into the kennels, in example of all other offenders.— ffwWAaZi MS. Journals 12 and 13. 2 Sermons, p. loi. 26 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [cH. i. and my mother milked thirty kine. He was able, and did find the king a harness with himself and his horse. I remember that I buckled on his harness when he went to Blackheath field. He kept me to school, or else I had not been able to have preached before the King's Majesty now. He married my sisters with five pounds, or twenty nobles, each, having brought them up in godliness and fear of God. He kept hospitality for his poor neighbours, and some alms he gave to the poor ; and all this he did of the said farm.' If ' three or four pounds at the uttermost ' was the rent of a farm yielding such results, the rent of labourers' cottages is not likely to have been consider- able.' Some uncertaiaty is unavoidable in all calculations of the present nature; yet, after making the utmost allowances for errors, we may conclude from such a table of prices that a penny, in terms of the labourers necessities, must have been nearly equal in the reign of Henry VIII. to the present shilling. For a penny, at the time of which I write, the labourer could buy as much bread, beef, beer, and wine — ^he could do as much towards finding lodging for himself and his family- — as the labourer of the nineteenth century can for a shilling. I do not see that this admits of question. Turning, then, to the table of wages, it will be easy to ascertain ' See Haekison, p. 318. At 1 or a hundred. The price of produce the beginning of the century farms kept pace with the rent. The large let for four pounds a year, which in farmers prospered; the poor forfeited 1576 had been raised to forty, fifty, their tenures. ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTUR Y. 27 iiis position. By the 3rd of the 6th of Henry VIII. it was enacted that master carpenters, masons, bricklayers, tylers, plumbers, glaziers, joiners, and other employers of such skilled workmen, should give to each of their journeymen, if no meat or drink was allowed, sixpence a day for the half year, fivepence a day for the other half; or fivepence-halfpenny for the yearly average. The common labourers were to receive fourpence a day for half the year ; for the remaining half, threepence.' 1 The wages were fixed at a maximum, showing that labour was scarce, and that its natural tend- ency was towards a higher rate of remuneration. Persons not pos- sessed of other means of subsistence were punishable if they refused to work at the statutable rate of pay- ment; and a clause in the Act of Hen. VIII. directed that where the practice had been ^ to give lower wages, lower wages should be taken. This provision was owing to a differ- ence in the value of money in differ- ent parts of England. The price of bread at Stratford, for instance, was permanently twenty-five per cent. below the price in Loudon. (Assize of Bread in England : BaUiol MS.) The statute, therefore, may be taken as a guide sufficiently conclusive as to the practical scale. It is of course uncertain how far work was constant. The ascending tenddnuy of wages is an evidence, so far as it goes, iu the labourer's favour ; and the proportion between the Wiiges of the household farm servdnt anJ those of the day labo.irer, which famishes a further guide, was much the same as at present. By the same statute of Henry VIII. the common servant of husbandry, who was boarded and lodged at his master's house, received i6s. 8;^. a year in money, with 45. for his clothes ; while the wages of the out- door labourer, siipposing his work constant, would have been 5?. a year. Among ourselves, on an average of different counties, the labourer's wages are 25^. to 30Z. a year, supposing his work constant. The farm servant, unless in the neighbourhood of large towns, re- ceives about 61., or from that to 81. Where meat and drink was allowed it was calculated at 2^. a day, or is. zd. a week. In the household of the Earl of Northum- berland the allowance was zyid. Here, again, we observe an appruach to modern proportiojis. 'Ihe esti- mated cost of the board and lodging of a man servant in an English gen- tleman's family is now about 2^1. a year. 28 RFJGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. I, In the harvest months they were allowed to work by the piece, and might earn considerably more ; ' so that, in fact (and this was the rate at which their wages were usually estimated), the day labourer, if in full employ- ment, received on an average fourpence a day for the whole year. Allowing a deduction of one day in a fortnight for a saint's day or a holiday, he received, therefore, steadily and regularly, if well-conducted, an equivalent of something near to twenty shillings a week, the wages at present paid in English colonies : and this is far from being a full account of his advantages. Except in rare instances, the agricultural labourer held land in connection with his house, while in most parishes, if not in all, there Tvere large ranges of com- mon and unenclosed forest land, which furnished his fuel to him gratis, where pigs might range, and ducks and geese ; where, if he could afford a cow, he was in no danger of being iinable to feed it ; and so important was this privilege considered, that when the commons began to be largely enclosed, parliament insisted that the working man should not be without some piece of ground on which he could employ his own and his family's industry.^ By the 7th of the 3 1 st of Elizabeth, ' Mowers, for instance, were paid 'id. a day. — Frivy [Purse Ex- penses of Henry VIII. 2 In 1581 the agricultural la- bourer, as he now exists, was only beginning to appear. ' There be such in the realm,' says Stafford, ' as live only by the labour of their hands and the profit which they can make upon the commons.' — Staf- ffOKu's Discourse. This novel class had been called into being by the general raising of rents, and the wholesale evictions of the smaller tenantry which followed the Ee- formation. The progress of the causes which led to the change can be traced from the beginning of the ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 29 it was ordered that no cottage should be built for resi- dence without four acres of land at lowest being attached to it for the sole use of the occupants of such cottage. It wOl, perhaps, be supposed that such comparative prosperity of labour was the result of the condition of the market in which it was sold ; that the demand for labour was large and ihe supply limited ; and that the state of England in the sixteenth century was analogous to that of Australia or Canada at the present time. And so long as we confine our view to the question of wages alone, it is undoubted that legislation was in favour of the employer. The Wages Act of Henry VIII. was unpopular with the labourers, and was held to deprive them of an opportunity of making better terms for themselves.' But we shall fall into extreme cent'iry. Harrison says he knew 'old men who, comparing things present with things past, spoke of two things grown to he very grievous — to wit, the enhancing of rents, and the daily oppression of copyholders, whose lords seek to bring their poor tenants almost into plain servitude and misery, daily devising new means and seeking up all the old, how to cut them shorter and shorter ; doubling, trebling, and now and then seven times increasing their fines; driving them also for every trifle to lose and forfeit their tenures, by whom the greatest part of the realm doth stand and is main- tained, to the end they may fleece them yet more : which is a lament- able hearing.' — Description of Eng- land, p. 318. ' Hall, p. 581. Nor was the Act in fact ob- served even in London itself, or towards workmen employed by the Government. In 1538, the Cor- poration of London, 'for certain reasonable and necessary consider- ations,' assessed the wages of com- mon labourers at "jd. and Zd. the day, classing them with carpenters and masons. — Guildhall MS. Jour- nal 14, fol. 10. Labourers em- ployed on Government works in the reign of Hen. VIII. never received less than 6d. a day, and frequently more. — Clironicles of Calais, p. 197, &c. Sixpence a day is the usual REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. I, error if we translate into the language of modern poli- tical economy the social features of a state of things which in no wa}^ corresponded to our own. There was this essential difference, that labour was not looked upon as a market commodity ; the Grovernment (whether ■wisely or not, I do not presume to determine) attempt- ing to portion out the rights of the various classes of society by the rule, not of economy, but of equity. Statesmen did not care for the accumulation of capital ; they desired to see the physical well-being of all classes of the commonwealth maintained at the highest degree which the producing power of the country admitted ; and population and production remaining stationary, they were able to do it. This was their object, and they were supported in it by a powerful and efficient majority of the nation. On the one side parliament interfered to protect employers against their labourers ; but it was equally determined that employers should not be allowed to abuse their opportunities ; and this directly appears from the 4th of the 5th of Elizabeth, by which, on the most trifling appearance of a depreci- sura entered as the wages of a day's labour in the innumerable lists of accounts in the Record Office. And td. a day again was the lowest pay of the common soldier, not only on exceptional service in the field, but when regularly employed in garrison duty. Those who doubt whether this was really the practice, may easily satisfy themselves by referring to the accounts of the expenses of Berwick, or of Dover, Deal, or Wal- mer Castles, to be found in the Eecord Office in great numbers. The daily wages of the soldier are among the very best criteria for de- termining the average value of the unskilled labourer's work. No Go- vernment gives higher wages than it is compelled to give by the market rate. ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. ation in the ciirrency, it was declared that the labour- ing man could no longer live on the wages assigned to him by the Act of Henry ; and a sHding scale was instituted by which, for the future, wages should be adjusted to the price of food.' The same conclusion may be gathered also, indi- rectly, from other Acts, interfering imperiously with the rights of property where a disposition showed itself to exercise them selfishly. The city merchants, as I have said, were becoming landowners ; and some of them attempted to apply the rules of trade to the management of landed estates. While wages were ruled so high, it answered better as a speculation to con- vert arable land into pasture ; but the law immediately stepped in to prevent a proceeding which it regarded as petty treason to the commonwealth. Self-protection is the first law of life ; and the country relying for its defence on an able-bodied population, evenly distri- buted, ready at any moment to be called into action, either against foreign invasion or civil disturbance, it could not permit the owners of land to pursue for their own benefit a course of action which threatened to weaken its garrisons. It is not often that we are able to test the wisdom of legislation by specific results so clearly as in the present instance. The first attempts of the kind which I have described were made in the Isle of Wight, early in the reign of Henry VII. Lying ' The wages of the day labourer in Loadon, under this Act of Eliza- beth, were fixed at 9. Heronshaws, 4000. Fesants, 200. Partridges, 500. Woodcocks, 400. Plovers, 400. Curlews, 100. Quails, 100. Egrets, 1000. Bees, 200. Harfs, bucks, and roes, 400 and odd. Pasties of venison, cold, 4000. Pasties of venison, hot, 1506. Dishes of jelly, pasted, 1000. Plain dishes of jelly, 4000. Cold tarts, baken, 4000. i Cold custards, 4000. Custards, hot, 2000. Pikes, 300. Breams, 300. Seals, 8. Porpoises, 4. ' Latiiiek's Sermmis, p. 64. * Statutes of the Eealm, I Ed. VI. cap. 12. 48 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. i. expression of a temper which was rapidly spreading, and which gave occasion, among other things, to the follow- ing reflection in Erasmus. ' Oh, strange vicissitudes of human things,' exclaims he. ' Heretofore the heart of learning was among such as professed religion. Now, while they for the most part give themselves up, ventri luxui pecuniceque, the love of learning is gone from them to secular princes, the court and the nobility. May we not justly be ashamed of ourselves? The feasts of priests and divines are drowned in wine, are filled with scurrilous jests, sound with intemperate noise and tumult, flow with spiteful slanders and defamation of others ; while at princes' tables modest disputations are held concerning things which make for learning and piety.' A letter to Thomas Cromwell from his son's tutor will not be without interest on this subject ; Cromwell was likely to have been unusually careful in his chil- dren's training, and we need not suppose that all boys were brought up as prudently. Sir Peter Carew, for instance, being a boy at about the same time, and giving trouble at the High School at Exeter, was led home to his father's house at Ottery, coupled between two fox- hounds.' Yet the education of Gregory Cromwell is probably not far above what many young men of the middle and higher ranks were beginning to receive. Henry Dowes was the tutor's name, beyond which fact 1 know nothing of him. His letter is as follows : — ' Hookek's Life of sir Feter Carew. ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 49 ' After that it pleased your mastership to give me in charge, not only to give diligent attendance upon Master Gregory, but also to instruct him vdth good let- ters, honest manners, pastyme of instruments, and such other qualities as should be for him meet and convenient, pleaseth it you to understand that for the accomplish- ment thereof I have endeavoured myself by all ways possible to excogitate how I might most profit him. In which behalf, through his diligence, the success is such as I trust shall be to your good contentation and plea- sure, and to his no small profit. But for cause the summer was spent in the service of the wild gods, [and] it is so much to be regarded after what fashion j'outh is brought up, in which time that that is learned for the most part will not be wholly forgotten in the older years, I think it my duty to ascertain your mastership how he spendeth his time. And fii'st after he hath heard mass he taketh a lecture of a dialogue of Erasmus' CoU loquies, called Pietas Puerilis, wherein is described a very picture of one that should be virtuously brought up ; and for cause it is so necessary for him, I do not only cause him to read it over, but also to practise the precepts of the same. After this he exerciseth his hand in ■writing one or two hours, and readeth upon Fabyan s Chronicle as long. The residue of the day he doth spend upon the lute and virginals. "When he rideth, as he doth very oft, I teU him by the way some history of the Romans or the Greeks, which I cause him to rehearse again in a tale. For his recreation he useth to hawk and hunt and shoot in his long bow, which frameth and VOL. I. 4 so REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. I. Bucceedeth so well with liira that he seemeth to be there- unto given by nature." I have spoken of the organization of the country I population, I have now to speak of that of the towns, of the trading classes and manufacturing classes, the regulations respecting which are no less remarkable and no less iUi^strative of the national character. If the tendency of trade to assume at last a form of mere self- interest be irresistible, if political economy represent the laws to which in the end it is forced to submit itself, the nation spared no efforts, either of art or policy, to defer to the last moment the unwelcome conclusion. The names and shadows linger about London of cer- tain ancient societies, the members of which may stiU occasionally be seen in quaint gilt barges pursuing their own difficult way among the swarming steamers ; when on certain days, the traditions concerning which are fast dying out of memory, the Fishmongers' Company, the Goldsmiths' Company, the Mercers' Company, make procession down the river for civic feastings at Green- wich or Blackwall. The stately tokens of ancient hon- our stUl belong to them, and the remnants of ancient wealth and patronage and power. Their charters may be read by curious antiquaries, and the bills of fare of their ancient entertainments. But for what purpose they were called into being, what there was in these associations of common trades to surround with gilded ' In a subsequent letter he is described as learning French, ety- mology, casting of accounts, playing at weapons, and other such exer- cises.— Ellis, third series, vol. i. p. 342-3- ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTUR Y. 5' insignia, and how they came to be possessed of broad lands and Church preferments, few people now care to think or to inquire. Trade and traders have no dignity any more in the eyes of any one, except what money lends to them; and these outward symbols scarcely rouse even a passing feeling of curiosity. And yet these companies were once something more than names. They are all which now remain of a vast organization which once penetrated the entire trading life of England — an organization set on foot to realize that most necessary, if most difficult, condition of commercial excellence under which man should deal faithfuUy with his brother, and all wares offered for sale, of whatever kind, should honestly be what they pretend to be.' I spoke of the military principle which directed the distribution and the arrangements of land. The analogy will best ex- plain a state of things in which every occupation was treated as the division of an army ; regiments being quartered in every town, each with its own self-elected officers, whose duty was to exercise authority over all persons professing the business to which they belonged ; who were to see that no person undertook to supply articles which he had not been educated to manufacture ; ' It has been objected tbat inas- much as the Statute Book gives evidence of extensive practices of adulteration, the guild system was useless, nay, it has been even said that it was the cause of the evil. Cessante causa cessat effectus ; — when the companies lost their au- thority, the adulteration ought to have ceased, which in the face of recent exposures wUl be scarcely maintained. It would be as reason- able to say that the police are useless because we have still burglars and pickpockets among us. 52 KEIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. I. who were to determine the prices at which such articles ought justly to be sold ; above all, who were to take care that the common people really bought at shops and stalls what they supposed themselves to be buying ; that cloth put up for sale was true cloth, of true texture and full weight ; that leather was sound and well tanned ; wine pure, measures honest ; flour unmixed with devil's dust ; — who were generally to look to it that in all con- tracts between man and man for the supply of man's necessities, what we call honesty of dealing should be truly and faithfully observed.' An organization for this purpose did once really exist in England,^ really trying ' Throughout the old legislation, morality went along Trith politics and economics, and formed the life and spirit of them. The fruiterers in the streets were proliibited from selling plums and apples, because the apprentices played dice with them for their wares, or because the tempt- ation induced children and servants to steal money to buy. When parlia- ment came to be held regularly in London, an Order of Council fixed the rates which the hotel-keeper might charge for dinners. Messes were served for four at twopence per head ; the bill of fare pro vidiug bread, iish, salt and fresh, two courses of meat, ale, with fire and candles. And the care of the Government did not cease with their meals, and in an anxiety that neither the burgesses nor their servants should be led into iiii, stringent orders were issued against street-Walkers coming near their quarters. — Guildhall MS. Journals 12 and 15. The sanitary regulations for the city arc peculiarly interesting. The scavengers, constables, and officers of the wards were ordered, ' on pain of death,' to see all streets and yards kept clear of dung and rubbish and all other filthy and corrupt things. Carts went round every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday, to cai-ry off the litter from the houses, and on each of those days twelve buckets of water were drawn for ' every person,' and used in cleaning their rooms and passages. Particular pains were taken to keep the Thames clean, and at the mouth of every sewer or watercourse there was a strong iron grating two feet deep. — Guildhall MS. Jour- nal 15. 2 And not in England alone, hut throughout Europe. E.VGLANDIN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 53 to do the -work wHcli it was intended to do, as lialf tlie pages of our early statutes witness. In London, as the metropolis, a central council sat for every branch of trade, and this council was in communication with the Chancellor and the Crown. It was composed of the highest and most respectable members of the profession, and its office was to determine prices, fix wages, arrange the rules of apprenticeship, and discuss all details con- nected with the business on which legislation might be required. Further, this council received the reports of the searchers — high officers taken from their own body, whose business was to inspect, iu company with the lord mayor or some other city dignitary, the shops of the respective traders; to receive complaints, and to ex- amine into them. In each provincial town local coun- cils sat ia connection with the municipal authorities, who fulfilled in these places the same duties ; and their reports being forwarded to the central body, and con- sidered by them, representations on all necessary mat- ters were then made to the privy council ; and by the privy council, if requisite, were submitted to parliament. If these representations were judged to require legis- lative interference, the statutes which were passed in consequence were returned through the Chancellor to the mayors of the various towns and cities, by whom they were proclaimed as law. No person was allowed to open a trade or to commence a manufacture, either in London or the provinces, imless he had first served his apprenticeship ; unless, he could prove to the satis- faction of the authorities that he was competent in his 54 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. i. craft ; and unless he submitted as a matter of course to their supervision. The legislature had undertaken not to let that indispensable task go wholly unattempted, of distributing the various functions of society by the rule of capacity ; of compelling every man to do his duty in an honest following of his proper calling, secur- ing to him that he in his turn should not be injured by his neighbour's misdoings. The State further promising for itself that all able- bodied men should be found ia work/ and not allowing any man to work at a business for which he was unfit, insisted as its natural right that children should not be allowed to grow up in idleness, to be returned at mature age upon its hands. Every child, so far as possible, was to be trained up in some business or calling,^ ' idle- ness being the mother of all sin,' and the essential duty of every man beiag to provide honestly for himself and his family. The educative theory, for such it was, was simple but effective : it was based on the single prin- ciple that, next to the knowledge of a man's duty to God, and as a means towards doing that duty, the first condition of a worthy Kfe was the ability to maiatain it in iadependence. Varieties of inapplicable knowledge might be good, but they were not essential ; such know- ledge might be left to the leisure of after years, or it might be dispensed with without vital injury. Ability to labour could not be dispensed with, and this, there- fore, the State felt it to be its own duty to see provided ; • 27 Hen. VIII. cap. 25. 2 Ibid. ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 55 SO reaching, I cannot but think, the heart of the whole matter. The children of those who could aflford the email entrance fees were apprenticed to trades, the rest were apprenticed to agriculture ; and if children were foimd growing up idle, and their fathers or their friends failed to prove that they were able to secure them an ultimate maintenance, the mayors in towns and the magistrates in the country had authority to take possession of such children, and apprentice them as they saw fit, that when they grew up 'they might not be driven ' by want or incapacity i to dishonest courses.' ' 'Such is an outline of the organization of English society under the Plantagenets and Tudors. A detail of the working of the trade laws would be beyond my present purpose. It is obvious that such laws could be enforced only under circumstances when production and population remained (as I said before) nearly stationary ; and it would be madness to attempt to apply them to the changed condition of the present. It would be weU if some competent person would make these laws the subject of a special treatise. I will run the risk, however, of wearying the reader with two or three illustrative statutes, which I have chosen, not as being more significant than many others, but as speci- mens merely of the discipline under which, for cen- turies, the trade and manufactures of England contrived to move ; showing on one aide the good which the ' 27 Hen. VIII. cap. 25. S6 ' REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [cH. i. system effected, on the other the inevitable evils under which it finally sank. The first which I shall quote concerns simply the sale of specific goods and the means by which trades- men were prevented from enhancing prices. The Act is the 6th of the 34th of Henry VIII., and concerns the sale of wines, the statute prices of which I- have already mentioned. 'Because,' says this Act, 'that divers merchants inhabiting within the city of London have of late not only presumed to bargain and sell in gross to divers of the King's subjects great quantities of wines of Gascony, Guienne, and French wines, some for five pounds per tonne, some for more and some for less, and so after the rate of excessive prices contrary to the efiect of a good, and laudable statute lately made in this present Parlia- ment ; that is to say, contrary to and .above the prices thereof set by the Right Honourable the Lord Chancel- lor, Lord Treasurer, Lord President of the King's most honourable Council, Lord Privy Seal, and the two Chief Justices of either bench, whereby they be fallen into the penalties limited by the said statute; as by due proof made by examination taken is well known — but also having in their hands great abundance of wine, by them acquired and bought to be sold, obsti- nately and maliciously, since their said attemptate and defaults proved, have refused to bargain and sell to many of the King's subjects any of their said wines remaining and being in their hands ; purposing and intending thereby their own sii)gnlar and unreasonable ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. S7 lucres and profits, to have larger and higher prices of their said wines, to be set according to their insatiable appetites and minds ; it is therefore ordained and enacted, by authority of this present Parliament, that every merchant now having, or which shall hereafter have, wines to be sold, and refusing to seR or deliver, or not selling aaid delivering any of the said wines for ready money therefore to be paid, according to the price or prices thereof being set, shall forfeit and lose the value of the wine so required to be bought For due execution of which provision, and for the relief of the King's subjects, it shall be lawful to aU and singular justices of the peace, mayors, bailifis, and other head officers in shires, cities, boroughs, towns, &c., at the request of any person to whom the said merchant or merchants have refused to sell, to enter into the cellars and other places where such wines shall lie or be, and to sell and deliver the same wine or wines desired to be bought to the person or persons requiring to buy the same ; taking of the buyer of the wine so sold to the use and satisfaction of the proprietor afore- said, according to the prices determined by the law.' The next which I select is the eleventh of the second and third of Philip and Mary ; and falling in the midst of the smoke of the Smithfield fires, and the cruelties of that melancholy time, it shines like a fair gleam of humanity, which wiU not lose anything of its lustre because the evils against which it contends have in OUT times, also, furnished matter for sorrow and calamity — calamity which we unhappily have been S8 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. i. unable even to attempt to remedy. It is termed 'An Act touching Weavers,' and runs : ' Forasmuch, as the weavers of this realm have, aa well at this present Parliament as at divers other times, complained that the rich and wealthy clothiers do in many ways oppress them — some by setting up and keeping in their houses divers looms, and keeping and maintaining them by journeymen and persons un- skilful, to the decay of a great number of artificers which were brought up in the said science of weaving, with their families and their households — some by en- grossing of looms into their hands and possession, and letting them out at such unreasonable rents, as the poor artificers are not able to maintain themselves, much less to maintain their wives, families, and children — some also by giving much less wages and hire for weaving and workmanship than in times past they did, whereby they are enforced utterly to forsake their art and occu- pation wherein they have been brought up ; It is, therefore, for remedy of the premises, and for the avoiding of a great number of inconveniences which may grow if in time it be not foreseen, ordained and enacted by authority of this present Parliament, that no person using the feat or mystery of cloth-making, and dwelling out of a city, borough, market-town, or corpor- ate town, shall keep, or retain, or have in his or their houses or possession, any more than one woollen loom at a time; nor shall by any means, directly or indi- rectly, receive or take any manner of profit, gain, or commodity, by letting or setting any loom, or any house wherein any loom is or shall be used or occupied, ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 59 ■which, shall be together by him set or let, upon pain of forfeiture for every week that any person shall do the contrary to the tenor and true meaning hereof, twenty shillings.^ A provision then follows, limiting weavers living in towns to two looms — the plain intention being to pre- vent the cloth manufacture from falling into the power of large capitalists employing ' hands ; ' and to enable as many persons as possible to earn all in their own homes their own separate independent living. I sup- pose that the Parliament was aware that by pursuing this policy the cost of production was something increased; that cloth was thus made dearer than it would have been if trade had been left to follow its own course. It considered, however, that the loss was compensated to the nation by retaining its people in the condition not of ' hands,' but of men ; by rendering them independent of masters, who only sought to make their own advantage at the expense of labour; and enabling them to continue to maintain themselves in manly freedom. The weak point of all such provisions did not lie, I think, in the economic aspect of them, but in a far deeper difficulty. The details of trade legis- lation, it is obvious, could only be determined by persons professionally conversant with those details ; and the indispensable condition of success with such legislation ia, that it be conducted under the highest sense of the obligations of honesty. No laws are of any service which are above the working level of public morality ; and the deeper they are carried down into life, the larger become the opportunities of evasion. That the 6o REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. i. system succeeded for centuries is evident from, the organization of the companies remaining so long in its vitality ; but the efficiency of this organization for the maintenance of fair dealing could exist only so long as the companies themselves — their wardens and their other officials, who alone, qimque in sua arte, were competent to judge what was right and what was wrong — could be trusted, at the same time being interested parties, to give a disinterested judgment. The largeness of the power inevitably committed to the councils was at once a temptation and an opportunity to abuse those powers ; and slowly through the statute book we find the traces of the poison as it crept in and in. Already in the 24th of Henry VIII., we meet with complaints in the leather trade of the fraudulent conduct of the searchers, whose duty was to affix their seal upon leather ascer- tained to be sound, before it was exposed for sale, ' which mark or print, for corruption and lucre, is commonly set and put by such as take upon them the search and sealing, as well upon leather insufficiently tanned, as upon leather well tanned, to the great deceit of the buyers thereof.' About the same time, the ' craft wardens ' of the various fellowships, ' out of sinister mind and purpose,' were levying excessive fees on the admission of apprentices ; and when parliament inter- fered to bring them to order, they 'compassed and practised by cautiU and subtle means to delude the good and wholesome statutes passed for remedy.' ' The old ■ 22 Hen. VIII. cap. 4; 28 Hen. VIII. ( ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 6i proverb, Q«w custocliat cusiodes, had begun to verify itself, and tte symptom was a fatal one. These evils, for the first half of the century, remained within compass ; but as we pass on we find them increasing steadily. In the 7th and the 8th of Elizabeth, there are indications of the truck system ; and towards her later years, the multiplying statutes and growing complaints and diffi- culties show plainly that the companies had lost their healthy vitality, and, with other relics of feudalism, were fast taking themselves away. There were no longer tradesmen to be found in sufficient numbers who were possessed of the necessary probity ; and we mar, perhaps, in part connect the phenomenon with the deep melancholy which in those years settled down on Elizabeth herself. For, indeed, a change was coming upon the world, the meaning and direction of which even still is hidden from us, a change from era to era. The paths trodden by the footsteps of ages were broken up ; old things were passing away, and the faith and the life of ten centuries were dissolving like a dream. Chivalry was dying ; the abbey and the castle were soon together to crumble into ruins ; and all the forms, desires, beliefs, convictions of the old world were passing away, never to return. A new continent had risen up beyond the western sea. The floor of heaven, inlaid with stars, had sunk back into an infinite abyss of immeasurable space ; and the firm earth itself, unfixed from its foundations, was seen to be but a small atom in the awful vastness of the universe. In the fabric of habit in which they 62 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. i. had SO laboriously built for tbemselves, mankind were to remain no longer. And now it is all gone-^like an unsubstantial pageant faded; and between us and the old English there lies a gulf of mystery which the prose of the historian wiU never adequately bridge. They can- not come to us, and our imagination can but feebly penetrate to them. Only among the aisles of the cathedral, only as we gaze upon their silent figures sleeping on their tombs, some faint conceptions float before us of what these men were when they were alive ; and perhaps in the sound of church bells, that peculiar creation of mediaeval age, which falls upon the ear Kke the echo of a vanished world. The transition out of this old state is what in this book I have undertaken to relate. As yet there were uneasy workings below the surface; but the crust was unbroken, and the nation remained outwardly un- changed as it had been for centuries. I have still some few features to add to my description. Nothing, I think, proves more surely the mutual confidence which held together the Government and the people, than the fact that all classes were armed. Every man, as I have already said, was a soldier ; and every man was ready equipped at all times with the arms which corresponded to his rank. By the great Statute of Winchester,* which was repeated and expanded on many occasions in the after reigns, it was enacted, ' that * Statut. Winton., 13 Edw. I. cap. 6. ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 63 every man have harness in his house to keep the peace after the antient assise — that is to say, every man between fifteen years of age and sixty years shall be assessed and sworn to armour according to the quantity of his lands and goods — that is, to wit, for fifteen pounds lands and forty marks goods, a hauberke, a helmet of iron, a sword, a dagger, and a horse. For ten pounds of lands and twenty marks goods, a hau- berke, a helmet, a sword, and a dagger. For five pounds lands, a doublet, a helmet of iron, a sword, and a dagger. For forty shillings lands, a sword, a bow and arrows, and a dagger. And all others that may shall have bows and arrows. Review of armour shall be made every year two times, by two constables for every hundred and franchise thereunto appointed ; and the constables shall present, to justices assigned for that purpose, such defaults as they do find.' As the archery was more developed, and the bow became the peculiar weapon of the English, regular practice was ordered, and shooting became at once the drill and the amusement of the people. Every hamlet had its pair of butts ; and on Sundays and holidays ^ all able-bodied men were required to appear in the field, to employ their leisure hours ' as valyant Englishmen ought to do,' 'utterly leaving the play at the bowls, quoits, dice, kails, and other unthrifty games ; ' magis- trates, mayors, and baiUfis being responsible for their obedience, under penalty, if these officers neglected ' 12 Eich. II. cap. 6 ; 11 Hen. IV. cap. 4. 64 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [ra. i. their duty, of a fine of twenty shillings for each offence. On the same days, the tilt-yard at the hall or castle was thrown open, and the ypung men of rank amused themselves with similar exercises. Fighting, or mock fighting — and the imitation was not unlike the reality — was at once the highest enjoyment and the noblest accomplishment of all ranks in the State ; and over that most terrible of human occupations they had flung the enchanted halo of chivalry, decorating it with all the fairest graces, and consecrating it with the most heroic aspirations. The chivalry, with much else, was often perhaps something ideal. In the wars of the Roses it had turned into mere savage ferocity ; and in forty years of carnage the fighting propensities had glutted them- selves. A reaction followed, and in the early years of Henry VIII. the statutes were growing obsolete, and the ' unlawful games ' rising again into favour. The younger nobles, or some among them, were shrinking from the tilt-yard, and were backward on occasions even when required for war. Lord Surrey, when waiting on the Border, expecting the Duke of Albany to invade the northern counties, in 1523, complained of the grow- ing ' slowness ' of the young lords ' to be at such jour- neys,'^ and of their 'inclination to dancing, carding, and dicing.' The people had followed the example, and were falling out of archery practice, exchanging it for similar amusements. Henry VIII., in his earlier days ' Ellis's Original Letters, first series, vol. i. p. 226. ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 65 an Englishman after the old type, set himself resolutely to oppose these downward tendencies, and to brace again the slackened sinews of the nation. In his own person he was the best rider, the best lance, and the best archer in England ; and while a boy he was dreaming of fresh Agincourts, and even of fresh crusades. In 151 1, when he had been king only three years, parlia- ment re-enacted the Winchester Statute, with new and remarkable provisions ; and twice subsequently in the course of his reign he returned back upon the subject, insisting upon it with increasing stringency.- The lan- guage of the Act of 151 1 is not a little striking. ' The King's Highness,' so the words run, 'calling to his gracious remembrance that by the feats and exercise of the subjects of his realm in shooting in long bows, there had continually grown and been within the same great numbers and multitudes of good archers, which hath not only defended the realm and the subjects thereof against the cruel malice and dangers of their enemies in times heretofore past, but also, with little numbers and puissance in regard of their opposites, have done many notable acts and discomfitures of war against the infidels and others; and furthermore re- duced divers regions and countries to their due obey- sance, to the great honour, fame, and surety of this realm and subjects, and to the terrible dread and fear of all strange nations, anything to attempt or do to the hurt or damage of them : Yet nevertheless that archery and shooting in long bows is but little used, but daily does minish and decay, and abate more and more ; for 66 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. i. that mucli part of the commonalty and poor people of this realm, whereby of old time the great number and substance of archers had grown and multiplied, be not of power nor ability to buy them long bows of yew to exercise shooting in the same, and to sustain the con- tinual charge thereof ; and also beciuse, by means and occasions of customable usage of tennis play, bowles, claish, and other unlawful games, prohibited by many good and beneficent statutes, much impoverishment hath ensued : Wherefore, the King's Highness, of his great wisdom and providence, and also for zeal to the public weal, surety, and defence of this his realm, and the antient fame in this behalf to be revived, by the assent of his Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and his Commons in this present Parliament assembled, hath enacted and established that the Statute of Winchester for archers be put in due execution ; and over that, that every man being the King's subject, not lame, decrepit, or maimed, being within the age of sixty years, except spiritual men, justices of the one bench and of the other, justices of the assize, and barons of the exchequer, do use and exercise shooting in long bows, and also do have a bow and arrows ready continually in his house, to use himself in shooting. And that every man having a man child or men children in his house, shall provid.e for all such, being of the age of seven years and above, and till they shall come to the age of seventeen years, a bow and two shafts, to learn them and bring them up in shooting ; and after such young men shall come to the age of seventeen years, every of them shall provide ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTUR Y. 67 and have a bow and four arrows continually for himself, at his proper costs and charges, or else of the gift and provision of his friends, and shall use the same as afore is rehearsed.' Other provisions are added, designed to suppress the games complained of, and to place the bows more within the reach of the poor, by cheapening the prices of them. The same statute^ (and if this be a proof that it had imperfectly succeeded, it is a proof also of Henry's con- fidence in the general attachment of his subjects) was re-enacted thirty years later, at the crisis of the Re- formation, when the Northern counties were fermenting in a half-suppressed rebellion, and the Catholics at home and abroad were intriguing to bring about a revolution. In this subsequent edition of it ^ some par- ticulars are added which demand notice. In the direc- tions to the villages for the maintaining each ' a pair of buttes,' it is ordered that no person above the age of twenty-four shall sh-oot with the light flight arrow at a distance under two hundred and twenty yards. Up to two hundred and twenty yards, therefore, the heavy War arrow was used, and this is to be taken as the eiFective range for fighting purposes of the old archery.^ No ' It lias been stated again and again tliat the policy of Henry the Eighth was to make the Crown despotic by destroying the remnants of the feudal power of the nobility. How is such a theory to be recon- ciled with statutes the only object . of which was the arming and train- ing of the country population, whose natural leaders were the peers, knights, and gentlemen ? '^ 33 Hen. VIII. cap. 9. s From my experience of modern archery I found difficulty in belieT- ing that these figures were accurately given. Few living men could bend 68 REIGN' OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. I. measures could have been invented more effective tlian this vigorous arming to repress the self-seeking tenden- cies in the mercantile classes which I have mentioned as beginning to show themselves. Capital supported by force may make its own terms with labour; but capital lying between a king on one side resolved to prevent oppression, and a people on the other side in fuU condition to resist, felt even prudence dictate moderation, and reserved itself for a more convenient season. Looking, therefore, at the state of England as a whole, I cannot doubt that under Henry the body of the people were prosperous, well-fed, loyal, and con- tented. In all points of material comfort they were as well off as they had ever been before ; better off than they have ever been in later times. Their amusements, as prescribed by statute, con- sisted in training themselves as soldiers. In the pro- hibitions of the statutes we see also what their amuse- ments were inclined to be. But besides 'the bowles the lightest arrow 220 yards, even with the greatest elevation, and for effective use it must be delivered nearly point blank. A passage in 'S.qHaVH'seY) iDescriptimn of Britain, however, prevents me from doubting that the words of the statute are cor- rect. In his own time, he says that the strength of the English archers had so notoriously declined that the French soldiers were in the habit of disrespectfully turning their backs, at long range, ' bidding them shoot,' wt|ereas, says Holinshed, ' had the archers been what they were wont to be, these fellows would have had their breeches nailed unto their buttocks.' In an order for bow- staves, in the reigu of Henry the Eighth, I find this direction ; ' Each bowstave ought to be three fingers thick and squared, and seven feet long ; to be got up well polished and without knots.' — Butler to Bullinger : Zurich Letters. ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 69 and the claish,' field sports, fishing, shooting, hunting, were the deh'ght of every one, and although the forest laws were terrible, they served only to enhance the excitement by danger. Then, as now, no English peasant could be convinced that there was any moral crime in appropriating the wild game. It was an offence against statute law, but no offence against natural law ; and it was rather a trial of skUl between the noble who sought to monopolize a right which seemed to be common to all, and those who would succeed, if they could, in securing their own share of it. The Robin Hood ballads reflect the popular feeling and breathe the warm genial spirit of the old greenwood adventurers. If deer-stealing was a sin, it was more than compensated by the risk of the penalty to which those who failed submitted, when no other choice was left. They did not always submit, as the old northern poem shows of Aiam Bell, Clym of the Clough, and William of Cloudiske, with its most immoral moral ; yet I suppose there was never pedant who could resist the spell of those ringing lines, or refuse with all his heart to wish the rogues success, and confusion to the honest men. But the English peasantry had pleasures of less ambiguous propriety, and less likely to mislead our sympathies. The chroniclers have given us many accounts of the masques and plays which were acted in the Court, or in the castles of the noblemen. Such pageants were but the most splendid expression of a taste which was national and universal. As in ancient 70 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. i. Greece, generations before the rise of the great dramas of Athens, itinerant companies wandered from village to village, carrying their stage furniture in their little carts, and acted in their booths and tents the grand stories of the mythology ; so in England the mystery players haunted the wakes and fairs, and in barns or taverns, taprooms, or in the farmhouse kitchen, played at saints and angels, and transacted on their petty stage the drama of the Christian faith. To us, who can mea- sure the effect of such scenes only by the impression which they would now produce upon ourselves, these exhibitions can seem but unspeakably profane ; they were not profane when tendered in simplicity, and received as they were given. They were no more pro- fane than those quaint monastic illuminations which formed the germ of Italian art ; and as out of the illu- minations arose those paintings which remain unap- proached and unapproachable in their excellence, so out of the mystery plays arose the English drama, represented in its final completeness by the creations of a poet who, it now begins to be supposed, stands alone among mankind. We allow ourselves to think of Shakspeare or of Raphael or of Phidias, as having accomplished their work by the power of their own individual genius ; but greatness like theirs is never more than the highest degree of an excellence which prevails widely round it, and forms the environment in which it grows. No single mind in single contact with the facts of nature could have created out of itself a Pallas, a Madonna, or a Lear ; such vast conceptions ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 71 are the growth of ages, the creations of a nation's spirit ; and artist and poet, filled full with the power of that spirit, have but given them form, and nothing more than form. Nor would the form itself have been attainable by any isolated talent. No genius can dis- pense with experience ; the aberrations of power, un- guided or ill-guided, are ever in proportion to its intensity, and life is not long enough to recover from inevitable mistakes. Noble conceptions already exist- ing, and a noble school of execution which will launch mind and hand at once upon their true courses, are indispensable to transcendent excellence ; and Shak- speare's plays were as much the offspring of the long generations who had pioneered his road for him, as the discoveries of Newton were the offspring of those of Copernicus. No great general ever arose out of a nation of cowards ; no great statesman or philosopher out of a nation of fools ; no great artist out of a nation of materialists ; no great dramatist except when the drama was the passion of the people. Acting was the especial amusement of the English, from the palace to the village green. It was the result and expression of their power over them- selves, and power over circumstances. They were troubled with no subjective speculations ; no social problems vexed them with which they were unable to deal ; and in the exuberance of vigour and spirits they were able, in the strict and literal sense of the word, to play with the materials of life. The mystery plays came first ; next the popular legends ; and then the 72 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. I. great figures of Englisli history came out upon the stage, or stories from Greek and Roman writers ; or sometimes it was an extemporized allegory. Shakspeare himself has left us many pictures of the village drama. Doubtless he had seen many a Bottom in the old Warwickshire hamlets ; many a Sir Nathaniel playing ' Alissander/ and finding himself ' a little o'erparted.' He had been with Snug the joiner. Quince the car- penter, and Flute the bellows-mender, when a boy, we will not question, and acted with them, and written their parts for them ; had gone up with them in the winter's evenings to the Lucys' HaE. before the sad trouble with the deer-stealing ; and afterwards, when he came to London and found his way into great society, he had not failed to see Polonius burlesquing Caesar on the stage, as in his proper person Polonius burlesqued Sir William Cecil. The strolling playei's in Samlet might be met at every country wake or festival ; it was the direction in which the especial genius of the people delighted to revel. As I desire in this chapter not only to relate what were the habits of the people, but to illustrate them also, within such compass as I can allow myself, I shall transcribe out of Hall ' a description of a play which was acted by the boys of St Paul's School, in 1527, at Greenwich, adding some particulars, not mentioned by Hall, from another source.^ It is a good instance of the fantastic splendour with which ex- ' Page 735, quarto edition. 2 The Personages, Dresses, and Properties of a Mystery Play, acted at Greenwich, by command of Henry Vllt.— JJo«sfi"oMse MS. ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 73 liibitions of this kind were got up, and it possesses also a melancholy interest of another kind, as showing how little the wisest among us can foresee our own actions, or assure ourselves that the convictions of to-day will alike be the convictions of to-morrow. The occasion was the despatch of a French embassy to England, when Europe was outraged by the Duke of Bourbon's capture of Eome, when the children of Francis I. were prisoners in Spain, and Henry, with the full energy, of his fiery nature, was flinging himself into a quarrel with Charles V. as the champion of the Holy See. At the conclusion of a magnificent supper ' the King led the ambassadors into the great chamber of disguisings ; and in the end of the same chamber was a fountain, and on one side was a hawthorne tree, all of silk, with white flowers, and on the other side was a mulberry tree full of fair berries, all of silk. On the top of the hawthorne were the arms of England, com- passed with the collar of the order '■ of St Michael, and in the top of the mulberry tree stood the arms of France within a garter. The fountain was all of white marble, graven and chased ; the bases of the same were balls of gold, supported by ramping beasts wound in leaves of gold. In the first work were gargoylles of gold, fiercely faced with spouts running. The second receit of this fountain was environed with winged serpents, all of gold, which griped it; and on the ' Hall says ' collar of tlie garter of St Michael,' whicli, however, 1 venture to correct. 74 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [ch. i. summit of the same was a fair lady', out of whose breasts ran abundantly water of mtirvellous delicious savour. About this fountain were benches of rosemary, fretted in braydcs laid on gold, all the sides set with roses, on branches as they were growing about this fountain. On the benches sat eight fair ladies in strange attire, and so richly apparelled in cL ith of gold, embroidered and cut over silver, that I cannot express November the cunning workmanship thereof. Then when '5^7- the King and Queen were set, there was played before them, by children, in the Latin tongues, a man- ner of tragedy, the eifect whereof was that the Pope was in captivity and the Church brought under foot. Where- upon St Peter appeared and put the cardinal (Wolsey) in authority to bring the Pope to his liberty, and to set up the Church again. And so the cardinal made inter- cession with the Kings of England and France that they took part together, and by their means the Pope was delivered. Then in came the French King's children, and complained to the cardinal how the Emperour kept them as hostages, and would not come to reasonable point with their father, whereupon they desired the cardinal to help for their deliverance ; which wrought so with the King his master and the French King that he brought the Emperour to a peace, and caused the two young princes to be delivered.' So far Hall relates the scene, but there was more in the play than he remembered or cared to notice, and I am able to complete this curious picture of a pageant once really and truly a living spectacle in the old palace at ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 75 Greenwich, by an inventory of the dresses worn by the boys and a list of the dramatis personce. The school-boys of St Paul's were taken down the river with the master in six boats, at the cost of a shilling a boat — the cost of the dresses and the other expenses amounting in all to sixty-one shillings. The characters were — An orator in apparel of cloth of gold. Religio, Ecclesia, Veritas, like three widows, . ■ . Nov. 1527. in garments of silk, and suits of lawn and Cyprus. Heresy and False Interpretation, like sisters of Bohemia, apparelled in silk of divers colours. The heretic Luther, like a party friar, in russet damask and black taffety. Luther's wife, like a frow of Spiers in Almayn, in red silk. Peter, Paul, and James, in habits of white sarsnet, and three red mantles, and lace of silver and damask, and pelisses of scarlet. A Cardinal in his apparel. Two Sergeants in rich apparel. The Dolphin and his brother in coats of velvet em- broidered with gold, and capes of satin bound with velvet. A Messenger in tinsel satin. Six men in gowns of grey sarsnet. Six women in gowns of crimson velvet. War, in rich cloth of gold and feathers, armed. Three Almeyns, in apparel all cut and holed in silk. Lady Peace in lady's apparel white and rich. 76 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [ch. i. Lady Quietness and Dame Tranquillity richly beseen in lady's apparel. It is a strange world. This was in Novem- °^' '^■'°' bar, 1527. In November, 1530, but three brief years after, Wolsey lay dying in misery, a disgraced man, at Leicester Abbey ; ' the Pope's Holiness ' was fast becoming in English eyes plain Bishop of Rome, held guilty towards this realm of unnumbered enormi- ties, and all England was sweeping with immeasurable velocity, towards the heretic Luther. So history re- peats the lesson to us, not to boast ourselves of the morrow, for we know not what a day may bring forth. Before I conclude this survey, it remains for me to say something of the position of the poor, and of the measures which were taken for the solution of that most difficult of all problems, the distinguishing the truly deserving from the worthless' and the vagabond. The subject is one to which in the progress of this work I shall have more than one occasion to return ; but inasmuch as a sentimental opinion prevails that an increase of poverty and the consequent enactment of poor-laws was the result of the suppression of the religious houses, and that adequate relief had been previously furnished by these establishments, it is necessary to say a few words for the removal of an impression which is as near as possible the reverse of the truth. I do not doubt that for many centuries these houses fulfilled honestly the intentions with which they were established ; but as early as the reign ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 77 of Richard II. it was found necessary to provide some other means for the support of the aged and impotent ; the monasteries not only having then begun to neglect their duty, but by the appropriation of benefices hav- ing actually deprived the parishes of their local and in- dependent means of charity.^ Licenses to beg were at that time granted to deserving persons ; and it is noticeable that this measure was in a few years followed by the petition to Henry IV. for the secularization of ecclesiastical propertJ^'' Thus early in our history had the regular clergy forgotten the nature of their mission, and the object for which the administration of the nation's charities had been committed to them. Thus early, while their houses were the nurseries of dis- honest mendicancy,' they had surrendered to lay com- passion, those who ought to have been their especial care. I shall unhappily have occasion hereafter to illustrate these matters in detail. I mention them in this place only in order to dissipate at once a foolish dream. At the opening of the sixteenth century, before the suppression of the monasteries had suggested itself in a practical form, paiiperism was a state question of great difficulty, and as such I have at present to consider it. For the able-bodied vagrant, it is well known that the old English laws had no mercy. When wages are low, and population has outgrown the work which can ' Rich. II. 12, cap. 7, 8, 9; Rich. II. 15, cap. 6. " Lcmaclouine MS. I, fol. 26. Injunctions to the Monasteries : Bubnjst's Collect, pp. 77-8. 78 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. i. be provided for it, idleness may be involuntary and in- nocent ; at a time when all industrious men could main- tain themselves in comfort and prosperity, ' when a fair day's wages for a fair day's work ' was really and truly the law of the land, it was presumed that if strong capa- ble men preferred to wander about the country, and live upon the labour of others, mendicancy was not the only crime of which they were likely to be guilty ; while idleness itself was justly looked upon as a high offence and misdemeanour. The penalty of God's laws against idleness, as expressed in the system of nature, was starvation ; and it was held intolerable that any man should be allowed to escape a diyine judgment bj'' beg- ging under false pretences, and robbing others of their honest earnings. In a country also the boast of which was its open- handed hospitality, it was necessary to take care that hospitality was not brought to discredit by abuse ; and when every door was freely opened to a request for a meal or a night's lodging, there was an imperative duty to keep a strict eye on whatever persons were on the move. We shall therefore be prepared to find ' sturdy and valiant beggars ' treated with summary justice as criminals of a high order ; the right of a Grovernment so to treat them being proportioned to the facilities with which the honestly disposed can maintain them- selves. It might have been expected, on the other hand, that when wages were so high, and work so constant, labourers would have been left to themselves to make ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 79 provision against sickness and old age. To modern ways of thinking on these subjects, there would have seemed no hardship in so leaving them ; and their suf- ferings, if they had suffered, would have appeared but as a deserved retribution. This, however, was not the temper of earlier times. Charity has ever been the especial virtue of Catholic States, and the aged and the impotent were always held to be the legitimate objects of it. Men who had worked hard while they were able to work were treated like decayed soldiers, as the dis- charged pensionaries of society ; they were held entitled to wear out their age (under restrictions) at the expense of others ; and so readily did society acquiesce in this aspect of its obligations, that on the failure of the monasteries to do their duty, it was still sufficient to leave such persons to voluntary liberality, and legisla- tion had to interfere only to direct such liberality into its legitimate channels. In the 33rd of Edw. III. cap. 7, a prohibition was issued against giving alms to 'valiant beggars,' and this proving inadequate, and charity being still given indiscriminately, in the twelfth year of Richard II. the system of Kcenses was introduced, and a pair of stocks was erected by order in every town or village, to 'justify' persons begging unpermitted. The monasteries growing more and more careless, the number of paupers continued to multiply, and this method received successive expansions, till at length, when the Reformation was concluded, it terminated, after many changes of form, in the famous Act of Elizabeth. We can thus trace our poor law in the 8o REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. i. whole course of its growth, and into two stages through which it passed I must enter with some minuteness. The 1 2th of the aand of Henry VIII., and the 25th of the 27th, are so remarkable in their tone, and so rich in their detail, as to furnish a complete exposition of Eng- lish thought at that time upon the subject ; while the second of these two Acts, and probably the first also, has a further interest for us, as being the composition of Henry himself, and the most finished which he has left to us.' ' Whereas,' says the former of these two Acts, ' in all places throughout this realm, of England, vagabonds and beggars have of long time increased, and daily do increase in great and excessive numbers, by the oc- casion of idleness, mother and root of allvices ; where- by hath insurged and sprung, and daily insurgeth and epringeth, continual thefts, murders, and other heinous offences and great enormities, to the high displeasure of God, the inquietation and damage of the King's people, and to the marvellous disturbance of the com- mon weal of this realm ; and whereas, strait statutes and ordinances have been before this time devised and made, as well by the King our sovereign lord, as also by divers his most noble progenitors, Kings of England, for the most necessary and due reformation of the premises : yet that notwithstanding, the same nimiber of vagabonds and beggars be not seen in any part to be diminished, but rather daily augmented and increased into great ' Letter of Thomas Dorset to the Mayor of Plymouth ; Suppression of the Monasteries, p. 36. ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 8i routs or companies, as evidently and manifestly it doth and may appear : Be it therefore enacted by the King our sovereign lord, and by the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and the Commons, in this present Parliament assembled, that the justices of the peace of all and singular the shires of England within the limits of their commission, and all other justices of the peace, mayors, sheriffs, bailiffs, and other officers of every city, borough, or franchise, shall from time to time, as often as need shall require, make diligent search and inquiry of all aged, poor, and impotent persons, which live, or of necessity be compelled to live, by alms of the charity of the people ; and such search made, the said officers, every of them, within the limits of their authoiities, shall have power, at their discretions, to enable to beg within such limits as they shall appoint, such of the said impotent persons as they shall think convenient ; and to give in commandment to every such impotent beggar (by them enabled) that none of them shall beg without the limits so appointed to them. And further, they shall deliver to every such person so enabled a let- ter containing the name of that person, witnessing that he is authorized to beg, and the limits within which he is appointed to beg, the same letter to be sealed with the seal of the hundred, rape, wapentake, city, or borough, and subscribed with the name of one of the said justices or officers aforesaid. And if any such im- potent person do beg in any other place than within such limits, then the justices of peace, and all other the King's officers and ministers, shall by their discretions 82 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. i. punish all such persons by imprisonment in the stocks, by the space of two days and two nights, giving them only bread and water.' Further, * If any such impotent person be found begging without a license, at the discretion of the jus- tices of the peace, he shall be stripped naked from the middle upwards, and whipped within the town in which he be found, or within some other town, as it shall seem good. Or if it be not convenient so to punish him, he shall be set in the stocks by the space of three days and three nights.' Such were the restrictions under which impotency was allowed support. Though not in itself treated as an offence, and though its right to maintenance by so- ciety was not denied, it was not indulged, as we may see, with unnecessary encouragement. The Act then pro- • ceeds to deal with the genuine vagrant. ' And be it further enacted, that if any person or persons, being whole and mighty ia body and able to labour, be taken in begging in any part of this realm ; and if any man or woman, being whole and mighty in body, having no land, nor master, nor using any lawful merchandry, craft, or mystery whereby he might get his living, be vagrant, and can give none account how he doth lawftJly get his living, then it shall be lawful to the constables and all other king's oflS.cers, ministers, and subjects of every town, parish, and hamlet, to arrest the said vagabonds and idle persons, and bring them to any justice of the peace of the same shire or liberty, or else to the high constable of the hundred ; and the jus- ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 83 tice of the peace, high, constable, or other oflficer, shall cause such idle person so to him brought, to be had to the next market town or other place, and there to be tied to the end of a cart, naked, and be beaten with whips throughout the same town till his body be bloody by reason of such whipping ; and after such punishment of whipping had, the person so punished shall be en- joined upon his oath to return forthwith without delay, in the next and straight way, to the place where he was born, or where he last dwelled before the same punish- ment, by the space of three years ; and then put himself to labour Kke a true man ought to do ; and after that done, every such person so punished and ordered shall have a letter, sealed with the seal of the hundred, rape, or wapentake, witnessing that he hath been punished according to this estatute, and containing the day and place of his punishment, and the place whereunto he is limited to go, and by what time he is limited to come thither : for that within that time, showing the said letter, he may lawfully beg by the way, and otherwLse not ; and if he do not accomplish the order to him ap- pointed by the said letter, then to be eftsoons taken and whipped ; and so often as there be fault found in him, to be whipped till he has his body put to labour for his living, or otherwise truly get his living, so long as he is able to do so/ Then follow the penalties against the justices of the peace, constables, and all officers who neglect to arrest such persons ; and a singularly curious catalogue is added of certain forms of ' sturdy mendicancy,' which. REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. I. if unspecified, might have been passed over as exempt, but to which Henry had no intention of conceding further license. It seems as if, in framing the Act, he had Simon Fish's petition before him, and was com- mencing at last the rough remedy of the cart's-tail, which Fish had dared to recommend for a very obdurate evil.^' The friars of the mendicant orders were toler- ated for a few years longer ; but many other spiritual persons may have suffered seriously under the provisions of the present statute. ' Be it further enacted,' the Act continues, ' that scholars of the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, that go about begging, not being authorized under the seal of the said Universities, by the commissary, chan- cellor, or vice-chancellor of the same ; and that all and singular shipmen pretending losses of their ships and goods, going about the country begging without sufii- cient authority, shall be punished and ordered in man- ner and form as is above rehearsed of strong beggars ; und that all proctors and pardoners, and all other idle persons going about in counties or abiding in any town, city, or borough, some of them using ^divers subtle, crafty, and unlawful games and plays, and some of them ' ' Divers of your noble predeces-- sors, kings of this realm, have given lands to monasteries, to give a cer- tuia sum of money yearly to the poor people, whereof for the ancienty of the time they never give one penny. Wherefore, if your Grace will build to your poor bedemen a sure hospital tliat shall never fail, take from them these things. . . . Tie the holy idle thieves to the cart to be whipped, naked, till they fall to labour, that they by their importunate begging take not away the alms that the good charitable people would give unto us sore, impotent, miserable people, your bedemen.' — Fish's Supplica- tion : FoxE, vol. iv. p. 664. ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 85 feigning themselves to liave knowledge in physick, phj^snamye, and palmistry, or other crafty science, whereby they bear the people in hand that they can tell their destinies, dreams, and fortunes, and such other like fantastical imaginations, to the great deceit of the King's subjects, shall, upon examination had before two justices of the peace, if by provable witness th6y be found guilty of such deceits, be punished by whipping at two days together, after the manner before rehearsed. And if they eftsoons offend in the same or any like of- fence, to be scourged two days, and the third day to be put upon the pillory, from nine o'clock till eleven the forenoon of the same day, and to have the right ear cut off; and if they offend the third time, to have like pun- ishment with whipping and the pillory, and to have the other ear cut off.' It would scarcely have been expected that this Act would have failed for want of severity in its penalties; yet five years later, for this and for some other reasons, it was thought desirable to expand the provisions of it, en- hancing the penalties at the same time to a degree which has given a bloody name in the history of English law to the statutes of Henry VIII. Of this expanded statute ' we have positive evidence, as I said, that Henry was himself the author. The merit of it, or the guilt of it — if guilt there be — originated with him alone. The early clauses contain practical amendments of an undoubtedly salutary kind. The Act of 1531 had been ' 27 Hen. VIII. cap. 25. 86 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. I. defective in ttat no specified means had been assigned for finding vagrants in labour, which, with men of broken character, was not immediately easy- The smaller monasteries having been suppressed in the in- terval, and sufficient funds being thus placed at the dis- posal of the Government, public works ^ were set on foot throughout the kingdom, and this difficulty was obviated. Another impprtant alteration was a restriction upon private charity. Private persons were forbidden, under heavy penalties, to give money to beggars, whether deserving or undeserving. The poor of each parish might call at houses within the boundaries for broken meats ; but this was the limit of personal almsgiving ; and the money which men might be disposed to offer was to be collected by the churchwardens on Sundays and holidays in the churches. The parish priest was to keep an account of receipts and of expenditure, and relief was administered with some approach to modern formalities. A further excellent but severe enactment empowered the parish officers to take up all idle children above the age of five years, ' and appoint them to masters of husbandry or other craft or labour to be taught ; ' and if any child should refuse the service to which he was appointed, or run away ' without cause reasonable being shown for it,' he might be publicly whipped with rods, at the discretion of the justice of the peace before whom he was brought. ' Roads, harbours, embankments, fortifications at Dover and at Ber- wick, &c. — Stkype's Memorials, vol. i. p. 326 and 419 ; and see cap. 14 of this work. ENGLAND IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 87 So far, no complaint .can be urged against these provisions : they display only that severe but true humanity, which, in offering fair and liberal main- tenance for aU who will consent to be honest, insists, not unjustly, that its offer shall be accepted, and that the resources of charity shall not be trifled away. On the clause, howeverj which gave to the Act its especial and distinguishing character, there will be large differ- ence of opinion. ' The sturdy vagabond ' who by the earlier statute was condemned on his second offence to lose the whole or a part of his right ear, was condemned by the amended Act, if found a third time offending, with the mark upon him of his mutilation, ' to suffer pains and execution of death, as a felon and as an enemy of the commonwealth.' So the letter stands. For an able-bodied man to be caught a third time begging was held a crime deserving death, and the sentence was intended, on fit occasions, to be executed. The poor man's advantages, which I have estimated at so high & rate, were not purchased without drawbacks. He might not change his master at his will, or wander from place to place. He might not keep his children at his home unless he could answer for their time. If out of employment, preferring to be idle, he might be demanded for work by any master of the ' craft ' to which he belonged, and compelled to work whether he would or no. If caught begging once, being neither aged nor infirm, he was whipped at the cart's tail. If caught a second time, his ear was slit, or bored through with a hot iron. If caught a third time, being thereby REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. I, proved to be of no use upon .this earth., but to live upon it only to his own hurt and to that of others, he suffered death as a felon. So the law of England remained for sixty years. First drawn by Henry, it continued unre- pealed through the reigns of Edward and of Mary, subsisting, therefore, with the deliberate approval of both the great parties between whom the country was divided. Eeconsidered under Elizabeth, the same law was again formally passed ; and it was, therefore, the expressed conviction of the English nation, that it was better for a man not to live at all than to live a pro- fitless and worthless life. The vagabond was a sore spot upon the commonwealth, to be healed by wholesome discipKne if the gangrene was not incurable ; to be cut away with the knife if the milder treatment of the cartwhip failed to be of profit.' A measure so extreme in its severity was partly dictated by policy. The state of the country was criti- cal ; and the danger from questionable persons travers- ing it unexamined and uncontrolled was greater than at ordinary times. But in point of justice, as well as of prudence, it harmonized with the iron temper of the age, and it answered well for the government of a fierce ' It is to be remembered that the criminal law was checked on one side by the sanctuary system, on the other by the practice of benefit of clergy. Habit was too strong for legislation, and these privileges con- tinued to protect criminals long after they were abolished by statute. There is abundant evidence that the execution of justice was as lax in practice as it was severe in theory. See cap. i6 of this work, where the subject is discussed at length. In a note wiU be found an account of the legend that 72, 21 Hen. VIII. cap. 13. ^ Roy's Satire against tlie Clergy, written about 1528, is so plain. I02 REIGN OF HENRY THE 'EIGHTH. [CH. 2. is; I know him well. But now I think I see you listening and hearkening that I should name him. There is one that passeth all the others, and is the most diligent prelate and preacher in all England. And will ye know who it is ? I will tell you. It is the devil. Among all the pack of them that have cure, the devil shall go for my money, for he appHeth his business. Therefore, ye unpreaching prelates, learn of the devil to be diligent in your office. If ye wUl not learn of God, for shame learn of the devil.' -^ spoken, and goes bo directly to the point of the matter, that it is difficult to find a presentable extract. The following lines on the bishops are among the most moderate in the poem: — ' What are the bishops diyines— Yea, they can best skill of wines Better than of divinity ; Lawyers are they of experience, And in cases against conscience They are parfet by practice. To forge excommunications. For tythes iiud decimations Is their continual exercise. As for preaching they take no care, They would rather see a course at a hare ; Kather than to make a sermon To follow the chase of wild deer, Passing the time with jolly cheer. Among them all is common To play at the cards and dice ; Some of them are nothing nice Both at hazard and momcbance ; They drink in golden howls The blood of poor simple souls Perishing for lack of sustenance. Their hungry cures they never teach. Nor will suffer none other to preach,' &c. ' Latimer's Sermons, pp. 70, 71, THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 103 Under such circTimstances, we need not be surprised to find the clergy sunk low in the respect of the English people. Sternly intolerant of each other's faults, the laity were not likely to be iadulgent to the vices of men who ought to have set an example of purity ; and from time to time, during the first quarter of the century, there were explosions of temper which might have served as a warning if any sense or judgment had been left to profit by it. In 1514 a London merchant was committed to the Lollards' Tower for refusing to submit to an unjust exaction of mortuary ; ^ and a few days after was found dead in his cell. An inquest was held upon the body, when a verdict of wilful murder was returned against the chancellor of the Bishop of London ; and so intense was the feeling of the city, that the Bishop applied to Wolsey for a special jury to be chosen on the trial. ' For assured I am,' he said, ' that if my chancellor be tried by any twelve men in London, they be so mali- ciously set in favorem, hwreticm praritatis, that they will cast and condemn any clerk, though he were as inno- cent as Abel.' ^ Fish's famous pamphlet also shows the spirit which was seething ; and though we may make some allowance for angry rhetoric, his words have the clear ring of honesty in them ; and he spoke of what he had seen and knew. The monks, he tells the King, 'be they that have made a hundred thousand idle ' A peculiarly hateful form of clerical impost, the priests claiming the last dress worn in life by persons brought to them for burial. ' ritz James to Wolsey, Foxe, vol. iv. p. 196. I04 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. 1528. dissolute women in your realm, who would have gotten their living honestly in the sweat of their faces had not tlieir superfluous riches allured them to lust and idle- ness. These be they that when they have drawn men's wives to such incontinency, spend away their husbands' goods, make the women to run away from their hus- bands, bringing both man, wife, and children to idle- ness, theft, and beggary. Tea, who is able to number the great broad bottomless ocean sea full of evils that this mischievous generation may bring upon us if un- punished ? ' ' Copies of this book were strewed about the London streets ; "Wolsey issued a prohibition against it, with the effect which such prohibitions usually have. Means were found to bring it under the eyes of Henry himself; and the manner in which it was received by him is full of significance, and betrays that the facts of the age were already telling on his understanding. He was always easy of access and easy of manner ; and the story, although it rests on Foxe's authority, has in- ternal marks of authenticity. ■' One Master Edmund Moddis, being with the King in talk of religion, and of the new books that were come from beyond the seas, said that if it might please his Highness to pardon him, and such as he would bring to his Grace, he should see such a book as it was a marvel ^ Supplication of the Beggars; FoxE, vol. iv. p. 661. The glimpses into the condition of the monasteries which had been obtained in the im- perfect visitation of Morton, bear out the pamphleteer too completely. See chapter x. of this work. THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 105 to hear of. The King demanded who they were ? He said ' Two of your merchants — George Elliot and George Robinson.' The King appointed a time to speak with them. When they came before his presence in a privy closet, he demanded what they had to say or to show him. One of them said that there was a book come to their hands which they had there to show his Grace. When he saw it he demanded if any of them could read it. ' Yea,' said George Elliot, ' if it please your Grace to hear it.' ' I thought so,' said the King ; ' if need were, thou couldst say it without book.' ' The whole book being read out, the King made a long pause, and then said, ' If a man should pull down an old stone wall, and should begin at the lower part, the upper part thereof might chance to fall upon his head.' Then he took the book, and put it in his desk, and commanded them, on their allegiance, that they should not tell any man that he had seen it.'^ Symptoms such as these boded ill for a self-reform of the Church, and it was further imperilled by the dif- ficulty which it is not easy to believe that Wolsey had forgotten. Ifo measures would be of efficacy which spared the religious houses, and they would be equally useless unless the bishops, as well as the inferior clergy, were comprehended in the scheme of amendment. But neither with monks nor bishops could Wolsey interfere except by a commission from the Pope, and the laws were unrepealed which forbade English subjects, under ' FoxE, vol. iv. p. 658. lofr REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. Z. the severest penalties, to accept or exercise witHn the realm an authority which they had received from the Holy See. Morton had gone beyond the limits of the Statute of Provisors in receiving powers from Pope In- nocent to visit the monasteries. But Morton had stopped short with inquiry and admonition. Wolsey, who was in earnest with the work, had desired and obtained a fuU commission as legate, but he could only make use of it at his peril. The statute slumbered, but it still existed.* He was exposing not himself only, but all persons, lay and clerical, who might recognize his legacy, to a Premunire ; and he knew well that Henry's con- nivance, or even expressed permission, could not avail him if his conduct was challenged. He cou.ld not ven- ture to appeal to Parliament. Parliament was the last authority whose jurisdiction a churchman would acknow- ledge in the concerns of the clergy; and his project must sooner or later have sunk, like those of his two predecessors, under its own internal difficulties, even if the accident had not arisen which brought the dispute to a special issue in its most vital point, and which, fostered by Wolsey for his own purposes, precipitated his ruin. It is never more difficult to judge equitably the actions of public men than when private as well as general motives have been allowed to influence them, ' 13 Eic. II. Btat. ii. c. 2 ; 2 Hen. IV. o. 3 ; 9 Hen. IV. u. 8. Lingard is mistaken in saying that the Crown had power to dispense with these statutes. A dispensing power was indeed granted by the I2th of the 7th of Eic. II. But by the 2nd of the 13th of the same reign, the king is expressly and by name placed under the same prohibi- tions as all other persons. THE FALL OF WOLSF.Y. 107 or when their actions may admit of being represented as resulting from personal inclination, as well as from national policy. In Ufe, as we actually experience it, motives slide one into the other, and the most careful analysis will fail adequately to sift them. In history, from the effort to make our conceptions distinct, we pronounce upon these intricate matters with unhesitat- ing certainty, and we lose sight of truth in the desire to make it truer than itself. The difficulty is further complicated by the different points of view which are chosen by contemporaries and by posterity. Where motives are mixed, men all naturally dwell most on those which approach nearest to themselves : contem- poraries whose interests are at stake overlook what is personal in consideration of what is to them of broader moment ; posterity, unable to realize political embar- rassments which have ceased to concern them, concen- trate their attention on such features of the story as touch their own sympathies, and attend exclusively to the private and personal passions of the men and women whose character they are considering. These natural, and to some extent inevitable tend- encies, explain the difference with which the divorce between Henry VIII. and Catherine of Arragon has been regarded by the English nation in the sixteenth and in the nineteenth centuries. In the former, not only did the Parliament profess to desire it, urge it, and further it, but we are told by a contemporary^ that ' all indifferent and discreet persons' judged that it was ' Hall, p. 784. io8 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. right and necessary. In the latter, perhaps, there is not one of ourselves who has not been taught to look upon it as an act of enormous wickedness. In the six- teenth century. Queen Catherine was an obstacle to the estabKshment of the kingdom, an incentive to treason- able hopes. In the nineteenth, she is an outraged and injured wife, the victim of a false husband's fickle appe- tite. The story is a long and painful one, and on its personal side need not concern us here further than as it illustrates the private character of Henry. Into the public bearing of it I must enter at some length, in order to explain the interest with which the nation threw itself into the question, and to remove the scandal with which, had nothing been at stake beyond the in- clinations of a profligate monarch, weaiy of his queen, the complaisance on such a subject of the Lords and Commons of England would have coloured the entire complexion of the Reformation. The succession to the throne, although determined in theory by the ordinary law of primogeniture, was nevertheless subject to repeated arbitrary changes. The rmcertainty of the rule was acknowledged and deplored by the Parliament,^ and there was no order of which the nation, with any unity of sentiment, compelled the ob- servance. Ah opinion prevailed — ^not, I believe, trace- able to statute, but admitted by custom, and having the force of statute in the prejudices of the nation — that no stranger bom out of the realm could inherit.^ Although ' 25 Hen. VIII. c. 22. 2 28 Hen. VIII. c. 24. Speeck of Sir Ealph Sadler in Parliament, Sadler Papers, vol. iii. p. 323. THE FALL OF WOLSE Y. 109 the descent in the female line was not formally denied, no Queen Regnant had ever, in fact, sat npon the throne.^ Even Henry VII. refused to strengthen his title by advancing the claims of his wife : and the un- certainty of the laws of marriage, and the innumerable refinements of the Romish canon law, which affected the legitimacy of children,^ furnished, in connection with the further ambiguities of clerical dispensations, per- petual pretexts, whenever pretexts were needed, for a breach of allegiance. So long, indeed, as the character of the nation remained essentially military, it could as little tolerate an incapable king as an army in a danger- ous campaign can bear with an inefficient commander ; ' Nor -was tlie theory distinctly admitted, or the claim of the house of York would have been unques- tionable. » 25 Hen. Vni. c. 22. Draft of the Dispensation to be granted to Henry Vlir. Eolh Borne MS. It has been asserted by a writer in the Tablet that there is no instance in the whole of English history where the ambiguity of the marriage law led to a dispute of title. This was not the opinion of those who re- membered the wars of the fifteenth century. 'Eccens in quorundam vestrorum auimis adhuc est illius cruend temporis memoria,' said Henry VIII. in a. speech in council, ' quod a Eicardo tertio cum avi nostri materniEdwardi quarti statum in controTersiam YocSsset ejusque heredes regno atque vita privSsset Ulatum est.' — Wilkins's Coneiliu, vol. iii. p. 714. Eichard claimed the crown on the ground that a pre- contract rendered his brother's mar- riage invalid, and Henry VII. tacitly allenved the same doubt to continue. The language of the 22nd of the 25th of Hen. VIII. is so clear as to require no additional elucidation ; but another distinct evidence of the belief of the time upon the subject is in one of the papers laid before Pope Clement. ' Constat, in ipso regno quam plurima gravissima hella saepe ex- orta, confingentes ex justis et legiti- mis nuptiis quorundam Anglise re- gum procreates illegitimos fore propter aliquod consanguinitatis vel affinitatis confictum impedimentum et propterea inhabiles esse ad regni successionem.* — HoIU Souse MS. ; "WiLKiss's Concilia, vol. iii. p. 707. no REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. z. and whatever might be the theory of the title, when the sceptre was held by the infirm hand of an Edward II., a Eichard II., or a Henry VI., the difficulty resolved itself by force, and it was wrenched by a stronger arm from a grasp too feeble to retain it. The consent of the nation was avowed, even in the authoritative lan- guage of a statute,' as essential to the legitimacj^ of a sovereign's title ; and Sir Thomas More, on examination by the Solicitor-General, declared as his opinion that Parliament had power to depose kings if it so pleased.'' So many uncertainties on a point so vital had occasioned fearful episodes in English history ; the most fearful of them, which had traced its character in blood in the private records of every English family, having been the long struggle of the preceding century, from which the nation was still suffering, and had but recovered sufficiently to be conscious of what it had endured. It had decimated itself for a question which involved no principle and led to no result, and perhaps the history of the world may be searched in vain for any parallel to a quarrel at once so desperate and so unmeaning. This very unmeaning character of the dispute in- creased the difficulty of ending it. In wars of conquest or of principle, when something definite is at stake, the victory is either won, or it is lost ; the conduct of indi- vidual men, at all events, is overruled by considerations external to themselves which admit of being weighed ' 28 Hen. VI I r. c. 24. ' Appendix 2 to the Third Report of the Deputy-Keeper of the FuUie Records, p. 241. THE FALL OF WOLSEY. in and calculated. In a war of succession, where the great families were divided in their allegiance, and supported the rival claimants in evenly balanced numbers, the in- veteracy of the conflict increased with its duration, and propagated itself from generation to generation. Every family was in blood feud with its neighbour ; and chil- dren, as they grew to manhood, inherited the duty of revenging their fathers' dea;ths. No effort of imagination can reproduce to us the state of this country in the fatal years which intervened be- tween the first rising of the Duke of York and the battle of Bosworth ; and experience too truly convinced Henry VII. that the war had ceased only from general exhaustion, and not because there was no will to con- tiaue it. The first Tudor breathed an atmosphere of suspended insurrection, and only when we remember the probable effect upon his mind of the constant dread of an explosion, can we excuse or understand, in a prince not generally cruel, the execution of the Earl of War- wick. The danger of a bloody revolution may present an act of arbitrary or cowardly tyranny in the light of a public duty. Fifty years of settled government, however, had not been without their effects. The country had collected itself ; the feuds of the families had been chastened, if they had not been subdued ; while the increase of wealth and material prosperity had brought out into obvious prominence those advantages of peace which a hot- spirited people, antecedent to experience, had not an- ticipated, and had not been able to appreciate. They 112 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. were better fed, better cared for, more justly governed than they had ever been before ; and though abundance of unruly tempers remained, yet the wiser portion of the nation, looking back from their new vantage-ground, were able to recognize the past in its true hatefulness. Thenceforward a war of succession was the predominat- ing terror with English statesmen, and the safe estab- . lishment of the reigning family bore a degree of import- ance which it is possible that their fears exaggerated, yet which in fact was the determining principle of their action. It was therefore with no little anxiety that the council of Henry VIII. perceived his male children, on whom their hopes were centered, either born dead, or dying one after another within a few days of their birth, as if his family were under a blight. When the Queen had advanced to an age which precluded hope of further offspring, and the heir presumptive was an iniirm girl, the unpromising prospect became yet more alarming. The life of the Princess Mary was precarious, for her aealth was weak from her childhood. If she lived, her accession would be a temptation to insurrection ; if she did not live, and the King had no other children, a civil war was inevitable. At present such a difficulty would be disposed of by an immediate and simple reference to the collateral branches of the royal family ; the crown would descend with even more facility than the property of an intestate to the next of kin. At that time, if the rule had been recognized, it would only have increased the difficulty, for the next heir in blood was James of THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 113 Scotland ; and, gravely as statesmen desired the union of the two countries, iu the existing mood of the people, the very stones in London streets, it was said,^ would rise up against a King of Scotland who claimed to enter England as sovereign. Even the Parliament itself de- clared in formal language that they would resist any attempt on the part of the Scottish King ' to the utter- most of their power.' ^ As little, however, as the English would have admit- ted James's claims, would James himself have acknow- ledged their right to reject them. He would have pleaded the sacred right of inheritance, refusing utterly the imaginary law which disentitled him : he would have pressed his title with all Scotland to back him, and probably with the open support of France. Centuries of humiliation remained unrevenged, which both France and Scotland had endured at English hands. It was not likely that they would waste an opportunity thrust upon them by Providence. The country might, it is true, have encountered this danger, serious as it would have been, if there had been hope that it would itself have agreed to any other choice. England had many times fought successfully against the same odds, and would have cared little for a renewal of the struggle, if united in itself : but the prospect on this side, also, was fatally discouraging. The elements of the old factions were dormant but still smouldering. Throughout Henry's reign a White Rose agitation had been secretly ' Sadler Papers, vol. iii. p. 323. » 28 Hen. VIII. c. 24. 114 REIGN OF HKNRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. fermenting ; witliout open success, and wittout chance of success 80 long as Henry lived, but formidable in a bigh degree if opportunity to strike should offer itself. Eichard de la Pole, the representative of this party, had been killed at Pavia, but his loss had rather strength- ened their cause than weakened it, for by his long exile he was unknown in England; his personal character was without energy ; while he made place for the leader- ship of a far more powerful spirit in the sister of the murdered Earl of Warwick, the Countess of Salisbury, mother of Reginald Pole. This lady had inherited, in no common degree, the fierce nature of the Plantagenets ; born to command, she had rallied round her the Courte- nays, the Nevilles, and all the powerful kindred of Richard the King Maker, her grandfather. Her Plan- tagenet descent was purer than the King's ; and if Mary died and Henry left no other issue, half England was likely to declare either for one of her sons, or for the Marquis of Exeter, the grandson of Edward IV.^ In 1515, when Giustiniani,^ the Venetian ambassa- dor, was at the Court, the Dukes of Buckingham, of Suffolk, and of Norfolk, were also mentioned to him as having each of them hopes of the crown. Buckingham, meddling prematurely in the dangerous game, had lost his life for it ; but in his death he had strengthened the chance of Norfolk, who had married his daughter. Suffolk was Henry's brother-in-law ; ' chivalrous, popu- 1 See vol. iii. of this work, chap. XT. ' Tour Years at the Court of Senry the Eighth,yo[. ii. pp. 315-16. ^ Sir Charles Brandon, created Duke of Suffolk, and married to THE FALL OF WOLSEY. "S lar, and the ablest soldier of his day ; and Lady Margaret Lennox, also, daughter of the Queen of Scotland by her second marriage, would not have wanted supporters, and early became an object of intrigue. Indeed, as she had been born in England, it was held in Parliament that she stood next in order to the Princess Mary.* Many of these claims were likely to be advanced if Henry died leaving a daughter to succeed him. They would all iaevitably be advanced if he died childless ; and no great political sagacity was req^uired to foresee the probable fate of the country if such a moment was chosen for a French and Scottish invasion. The very worst dis- asters might be too surely looked for, and the hope of escape, precarious at the best, hung upon the frail thread of a single Hfe. We may therefore imagine the dismay with which the nation saw this last hope failing them — and faiHng them even in a manner more dan- gerous than if it had failed by death ; for it did but add another doubt when already there were too many. In order to detach France from Scotland, and secure, if possible, its support for the claims of the prin- cess, it had been proposed to marry the Princess Mary tc a son of the French king. The negotiations were con- ducted through the Bishop of Tarb6s,^and at the first con- ference the Bishop raised a question in the name of his 1527- Mary Tudor, widow of Louis XII. 1 28 Hen. VIII. c. 24. * The treaty was in progress from Dec. 24, 1526, to Marcli 2, 1527 [LoED Hekbekt, pp. 80, 81], and daring this time the difficulty was raised. The earliest intimation which I find of an intended divorce was in June, 1527, at which time Wolsey was privately consulting the bishops. — State Papej"*, vol. i. p. 189. ii6 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. z. Government, on the validity of the Papal dispensation granted by Julius the Second, to legalize the marriage from which she was sprung. The abortive marriage scheme perished in its birth, but the doubt which had been raised could not perish with it. Doubt on such a subject once mooted might not be left unresolved, even if the raising it thus publicly had not itself destroyed the frail chance of an undisputed succession. If the re- lations of Henry with Queen Catherine had been of a cordial kind, it is possible that he would have been con- tented with resentment ; that he would have refused to reconsider a question which touched his honour and his conscience ; and, united with Parliament, would have endeavoured to bear down all difficulties with a high hand. This at least he might have himself attempted. Whether the Parliament, with so precarious a future before them, would have consented, is less easy to say. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the interests of the nation pointed out another road, which Henry had no unwill- ingness to enter. On the death of Prince Arthur, five months after his marriage, Henry VII. and the father of the princess alike desired that the bond between their families thus broken should be re-united ; and, as soon as it became clear that Catherine had not been left pregnant (a point which, tacitly at least, she allowed to be considered uncertain at the time of her husband's decease), it was proposed that she should be transferred, with the in- heritance of the crown, to the new heir. A dispensation THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 117 was reluctantly granted by the Pope,^ and reluctantly accepted by the English ministry. The Prince of Wales, who was no more than twelve years old at the time, was under the age at which he could legally sue for such an object ; and a portion of the English council, the Arch- bishop of Canterbury among them, were unsatisfied,^ both with the marriage itself, and with the adequacy of the forms observed in a matter of so dubious an import. The betrothal took place at the urgency of Ferdinand. In the year following Henry VII. became suddenly ill ; Queen Elizabeth died ; and, superstition working on the previous hesitation, misfortune was construed into an indication of the displeasure of Heaven. The intention was renounced, and the prince, as soon as he had com- pleted his fourteenth year, was invited and required to disown, by a formal act, the obligations contracted in his name.' Again there was a change. The King lived on. ' It was for some time delayed ; ond tlie Tapal agent -was instructed to inform Ferdinand that a marriage Tv'liicli was at yariance a jure et laiidabilibuB moribus coald not be permitted nisi maturo consUio et necessitatis causS.. — Minute of a brief of Julius the Second, dated March 13, 1504, Rolls JSotise MS. ' LoED Hekbert, p. 114. 3 LoKD Hebbekt, p. 117, Ken- nett's edition. The act itself is printed in Bubnet's Collectanea, vol. iv. (Nares' edition) pp. 5, 6. It is dated June 27, 1505. Dr Lin- gard endeavours to explain away the renunciation as a form. The language of Moryson, however, leaves no doubt either of its causes or its meaning. 'Non multo post sponsalia contrahuntur,' he says, ' Henrico plus minus tredecim annos jam nato. Sed rerum non recte in- ceptarum successus infelioior homines non prorsus oscitantes plerumque docet quid recte gestum quid per- peram, quid factum superi volunt quid infectum. Nimirum Henricus Septimus nullS. oegritudinis pro- spect^ caus^ repente in deteriorem valetudinem prolapsus est, nee un- qr.am potuit affectum corpus pristi- ii8 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. the alarm yielded to the temptations of covetousness. Had he restored Catheriae to her father he must have restored with her the portion of her dowry which had heen already received ; he must have relinquished the prospect of the moiety which had yet to be received. The negotiation was renewed. Henry VII. lived to sign the receipts for the first instalment of the second pay-- ment ; ' and on his death, notwithstanding much general murmuring/ the young Henry, then a boy of eighteen, proceeded to carry out his father's idtimate intentions. The princess-dowager, notwithstanding what had passed, was still on her side willing ; — and the difference of age (she was six years older than Henry) seeming of little moment when both were comparatively young, they were married. For many years all went weU ; opposition was silenced by the succes.s which seemed to have followed, and the original scruples were forgotten. Though the num statum recuperare. Uxor in aliud ex alio malum regina omnium laudatissima non multo post morbo periit. Quid mirum si Eex tot irati numinis indiciis admonitus cceperit cogitare rem male illis succedere qui vellent hoc nomine cum Dei legibus litem instituere ut diutius cum ho- mine amicitiam gerere possent. Quid deinceps egit ? Quid aliud quam quod decuit Christianisaimum regem ? Filium ad se accersiri jubet. Ac- cersitiir. Adest, adsunt et multi nobilissimi homines. Rex filium regno natum hortatur ut secura una cum doctissimis ao optimis viris cogitavit nefarium esse putare leges Dei leges Dei non esse cum papa Tolet. Non ita longS oratione usus filium patri obsequentissimum a sententii nuUo negotio abduxit. Sponsaliacontracta infirmantnr, pon- tificiseque auctorilatisbeueficio palam ronunciatum est. Adest publicus tabellio — fit instrumentum. Rerum gestarum testes rogati sigilla ap- ponunt. Postrerao filius patri fidem se illam uxorem nunquam ductu- rum.' — Apomaxis Rioakdi Moey- SINI. Printed by Bertbelet, 1537. ^ See LiNGAED, sixth, edition, vol. iv. p. 164. * Hall, p. 507. THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 119 marriage was dictated by political conTenience, Henry was faithful, so far as we know, with but one exception, to his wife's bed — no slight honour to him, if he is measured by the average royal standard in such matters ; and, if his sons had lived to grow up around his throne, there is no reason to believe that the peace of his married Hfe would have been interrupted, or that, whatever might have been his private feeKngs, he would have appeared in the world's eye other than acquiescent in his condition. But his sons had not lived ; years passed on, bring- ing with them premature births, children born dead, or dying after a few days or hours,^ and the disappoint- ment was intense in proportion to the interests which were at issue. The especial penalty denounced against ' He married Catherine, June 3, 1509. Eariy in the spring of 15 10 she miscarried. — Four Years at the Court of Senry the Eighth, vol. i. p. 83. Jan. I, 1511. A prince was born, who died Feb. 22. — Hall. Not. 1513. Another prince was bom, who died immediately. — LlN- 6ABD, Tol. VI. p. 290. Dec. 1514. Badoer, the Venetian ambassador, wrote that the Queen Lad been delivered of a still-born male child, to the great grief of the whole nation. May 3, 1515. The Queen was supposed to he pregnant. If the supposition was right she must have miscarried. — Fo'wr Tears at the Court of Henry the Eighth, vol. i. p. 81. Feb. 18, 1516. The Princess Mary was born. July 3, 1518, 'The Queen declared herself quick with child,' (Pace to "Wolsey : State Papers, voL i. p. 2,) and again miscarried. These misfortunes we are able to trace accidentally through casual letters, and it is probable that these were not all. Henry's own words upon the subject are very striking : — 'All such issue male as I have received of the Qaeen died incon- tinent after they were bom, so that I doubt the punishment of God in that behalf. Thus being troubled in waves of a scmpulous conscience, and partly in despair of any issue male by her, it drove me at last to consider the estate of this realm, and the danger it stood in for lack of issue male to succeed me in this im- perial dignity." — Cavendish, p. 220. REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. the marriage ■with a brother's wife^ had been all but literally enforced ; and the King found himself growing to middle life and his Queen passing beyond it with his prayers unheard, and no hope any longei; that they might be heard. The disparity of age also was more perceptible as time went by, while Catherine's constitu- tion was affected by her misfortunes, and differences arose on which there is no occasion to dwell in these pages — differences which in themselves reflected no dis- credit either on the husband or the wife, but which were sufiicient to extinguish between two infirm human beings an affection that had rested only upon mutual esteem, but had not assumed the character of love. The circumstances in which Catherine was placed were of a kind which no sensitive woman could have endured without impatience and mortification ; but her conduct, however natural, only widened the breach which personal repugnance and radical opposition of character had already made too wide. So far Henry and she were alike that both had imperious tempers, and both were indomitably obstinate ; but Henry was hot and impetuous, Catherine was cold and self-contained — Henry saw his duty through his wishes ; Catherine, in her strong Castilian austerity, measured her steps by the letter of the law ; the more her husband withdrew from her, the more she insisted upon her relation to ' ' If a man shall take his brother's wife' it is an unclean thing. He hath uncovered his brother's nakedness. They shall be childless.' — Levitieus xx. 21. It ought to b« remembered, that if the present law of England be right, the party in favour of the divorce was right. Tim FALL OF WOLSEY. 121 him as his wife ; and continued with fixed purpose and immovable countenance * to share his table and his bed long after she was aware of his dislike for her. If the validity of so unfortunate a connection had never been questioned, or if no national iaterests had been dependent on the continuance or the abolition of it, these discomforts were not too great to have been endured in silence. They may or they may not have been stimulated by any latent inclination on the part of the King for another woman. The name of Anne Boleyn appears early in connection with the King's restiveness ; and even if the King was largely in- fluenced by personal feeling, when we remember the tenor of his early life we need not think that he would have been unequal to the restraint which ordinary per- sons in similar circumstances are able to impose on their caprices. The legates spoke no more than the truth when they wrote to the Pope, saying that ' it was mere madness to suppose that the King would act as he was doing merely out of dislike of the Queen, or out of inclination for another person ; he was not a man whom harsh manners and an unpleasant disposition [duri mo- res et injumnda consuetudo) could so far provoke; nor could any sane man believe him to be so infirm of cha- racter that sensual allurements would have led him to dissolve a connection in which he had passed the flower of youth without stain or blemish, and in which he had borne himself in his trial so reverently and honour- ' Letters of the Bishop of Bayonne, Leqeaud, toI. iii. 122 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. ably.' ^ I consider this entirely true in a sense which no great knowledge of human nature is required to un- derstand. The King's private dissatisfaction was great: if this had been all, howeverj it would have been extin- guished or endured; but the interests of the nation, imperilled as they were by the maintenance of the marriage, entitled him to regard his position under another aspect. Even if the marriage in itself had never been questioned, he might justly have desired the dissolution of it; and when he recalled the circum- stances under which it was contracted, the hesitation of the council, the reluctance of the Pope, the alarms and vacillation of his father, we may readily perceive how scruples of conscience must have arisen in a soil well prepared to receive them — how the loss of his children must have appeared as a judicial sentence on a violation of the Divine law. The divorce presented itself to him as a moral obligation, when national advantage com- bined with superstition to encourage what he secretly desired ; and if he persuaded himself that those public reasons, without which, in truth and fact, he would not have stirred, were those that alone were influencing him, the self-deceit was of a kind with which the ex- perience of most men wiU probably have made them too famiKar. In those rare cases where inclination coincides with right, we cannot be surprised if mankind should mislead themselves with the belief that the dis- interested motives weigh more with them than the personal, ' Legates to the Pope, printed in Buknet's Collectanea, p. 40. THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 123 A remarkable and very candid account of Henry's feelings is furnished by himself in one of the many papers of instructions ' which he forwarded to his secre- tary at Eome. Hypocrisy was not among his faults, and in detailing the arguments which were to be laid before the Pope he has exhibited a more complete reve- lation of what was passing in himself — and indirectly of his own nature in its strength and weakness — than he perhaps imagined while he wrote. The despatch is long and perplexed ; the style that of a man who saw his end clearly, and was vexed with the intricate and dishonest trifling with which his way was impeded, and which nevertheless he was struggling to tolerate. The secretary was to say, ' that the King's Highness having above all other things his intent and mind ever founded upon such respect unto Almighty God as to a Christian and Catholic prince doth appertain, knowing the fra- gility and uncertainty of all earthly things, and how displeasant unto God, how much dangerous to the soul, how dishonourable and damageable to the world it were to prefer vain and transitory things unto those that be perfect and certain, hath in this cause,, doubt, and matter of matrimony, whereupon depend so high and manifold consequences of greatest importance, always cast from his conceit the darkness and blundering confu- sion of falsity, and specially hath had and put before his eyes the light and shining brightness of truth ; upon which foundation as a most sure base for perpetual tran- ' State Papers, vol. vii. p. 117. 121 REIGN OF HEN,RY THE EIGHTH. [cii. 2. <5uilllty of his conscience his Highness hath expressly re- solved and determined with himself to build and estab- lish all his acts, deeds, and cogitations touching this matter ; without Crod did build the house, in vain they laboured that went about to buUd it ; and all actions grounded upon that immovable fundament of truth must needs therein be firm, sound, whole, perfect, and worthy of a Christian man ; which if truth were put apart, they could not for the same reason be but evil, vain,s]ippery, uncertain, and in nowise permanent or en- durable.' He then laboured to urge on the Pope the duty of straightforward dealing ; and dwelt in words which have a sad interest for us (when we consider the manner iu which the subject of them has been dealt with) on the judgment bar, not of God only, but of human posterity, at which his conduct would be ultimately tried. ' The causes of private persons dark and doubtful be sometimes,' the King said, ' pretermitted and passed over as things more meet at some seasons to be dissimuled than by continual strife and plea to nourish contro- versies. Yet since all people have their eyes conject upon princes, whose acts and doings not only be ob- served ia the mouths of them that now do live, but also remain in such perpetual memory to our posterity [so that] the evil, if any there be, cannot but appear and come to light, there is no reason for toleration, no place for dissimulation; but [there is reason] more deeply, highly, End profoundly to penetrate and search for the truth, so that the same may vanquish and overcome, and 1527.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 125 all guilt, craft, and falsehood clearly be extirpate and reject.' I am anticipating the progress of the story in making these quotations ; for the main burden of the despatch concerns a forged document which had been introduced by the Eoman lawyers to embarrass the process, and of which I shall by-and-by have to speak directly ; but I have desired to illustrate the spirit in which Henry en- tered upon the general question — assuredly a more calm and rational one than historians have usually represented it to be. In dealing with the obstacle which had been raised, he displayed a most efficient mastery over him- self, although he did not conclude without touching the pith of the matter with telling clearness. The secretary was to take some opportunity of speaking to the Pope privately ; and of warning him, ' as of himself,' that there was no hope that the King would give way : he was to ' say plainly to his Holiness that the King's desire and intent convolare ad secundas niiptias non patitur nega- tivum ; and whatsoever should be found ■ of bull, brief, or otherwise, his Highness found his conscience so in- quieted, his succession in such danger, and his most royal person in such perplexity for things unknown and not to be spoken, that other remedy there was not but his Grace to come by one way or other, and specially at his hands, if it might be, to the desired end ; and that all concertation to the contrary should be vain and frus- trate.' So peremptory a conviction and so determined a pur- pose were of no sudden growth, and had been probably 126 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. maturing vn his mind for years, when the gangrene was torn open by the Bishop of Tarbes, and accident pre- •cipitated his resolution. The momentous consequences involved, and the reluctance to encounter a probable quarrel with the Emperor, might have long kept him silent, except for some extraneous casualty; but the tree being thus rudely shaken, the ripe fruit fell. The capture of Rome occurring almost at the same moment, Wolsey caught the opportunity to break the Spanish alliance ; and the prospect of a divorce was grasped at by him as a lever by which to throw the weight of Eng- lish power and influence into the Papal scale, to commit Henry definitely to the Catholic cause. Like his accept- ance of legatine authority, the expedient was a desperate one, and if it failed it was ruinous. The nation at that time was sincerely attached to Spain. The alliance with the house of Burgundy was of old date ; the commercial intercourse with Flanders was enormous, Flanders, in fact, absorbing all the English exports ; and as many as 15,000 Flemings were settled in London. Charles him- self was personally popular ; he had been the ally of England in the late French war ; and when in his sup- posed character of leader of the anti-papal party in Europe he allowed a Lutheran army "to desecrate Rome, he had won the sympathy of aU the latent discontent which was fermenting in the population. France^ on the other hand, was as cordially hated as Spain was beloved. A state of war with France was the normal condition of England ; and the re-conquest of it the universal dream from the cottage to the castle. Henry IS27-] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 127 himself, early in his reign, had shared in this delusive amhition ; and but three years before the sack of Bome, when the Duke of Suffolk led an army into Normandy, Wolsey's purposed tardiness in sending reinforcements had alone saved Paris.' There could be no doubt, therefore, that a breach with the Emperor would in a high degree be unwelcome to the country. The King, and probably such members of the council as were aware of his feelings, shrank from offering an open affront to the Spanish people, and anxious as they were for a settlement of the succession, perhaps trusted that advantage might be taken of some political contingency for a private arrangement ; that Catherine might be induced by Charles himself to retire privately, and sacrifice herself, of her free will, to the interests of the two countries. This, however, is no more than conjecture ; I think it probable, because so many English statesmen were in favour at once of the divorce and of the Spanish alliance — two objects which, only on some such hypothesis, were compatible. The fact cannot be ascertained, however, because the divorce itself was not discussed at the council table until "Wolsey had induced the King to change his policy by the hope of immediate relief. Wolsey has revealed to us fully his own objects in a letter to Sir Gregory Cassalis, his agent at Rome. He shared with half Europe in an impression that the Em- peror's Italian campaigns were designed to further the ^letters of the Bishop of Bayonne, Lbgband, vol. iii. ; Hall, 669. 128 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. ^. Eeformation ; and of this central delusion he formed the key-stone of his conduct. 'First condoling with his Holiness,' he wrote, ' on the unhappy position in which, with the college of the most reverend cardinals, he is placed,^ you shall tell him how, day and night, I am revolving by what means or contrivance I may bring comfort to the Church of Christ, and raise the fallen state of our most Holy Lord. I care not what it may cost me, whether of expense or trouble ; nay, though I have to shed my blood, or give my life for it, assuredly so long as life remains to me for this I will labour. And now let me mention the great and mar- vellous effects which have been wrought by my instru- mentality on the mind of my most excellent master the King, whom I have persuaded to unite himself with his Holiness in heart and soul. I urged innumerable reasons to induce him to part him from the Emperor, to whom he clung with much tenacity. The most ef- fective of them all was the constancy with which I, assured him of the good-will and affection which were felt for him by his Holiness, and the certainty that his Holiness would furnish proof of his friendship in coit* ceding his said Majesty's requests, in such form, as the Church's treasure and the authority of the Vicar of Christ shall permit, or so far as that authority extends or may extend. I have undertaken, moreover, for all these things in their utmost latitude, pledging my salvation, my faith, my honour and soul upon them. I ' Tlify were shut up in the Castle of St Angelo. 1527.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 129 have said that his demands shall be granted amply and fully, without scruple, without room or occasion being left for after-retractation; and the King's Majesty, tin consequence, believing on these my solemn asseverations that the Pope's Holiness is really and indeed well in- clined towards him, accepting what is spoken by me as spoken by the legate of the Apostolic See, and therefore, as in the name of his Holiness, has determined to run the risk which I have pressed upon him ; he wiU spare no labour or expense, he will disregard the wishes of his subjects, and the private interest of his Realm, to attach himself cordially and constantly to the Holy See.' ^ These were the words of a man who loved England well, but who loved Rome better ; and "Wolsey has re- ceived but scanty justice from Catholic writers, since he sacrificed himself for the Catholic cause. His scheme was bold and well laid, being weak only in that it was confessedly in contradiction to the instincts and genius of the nation, by which, and by which alone, in the long run, either this or any other country has been suc- cessfully governed. And yet he might well be forgiven if he ventured on an unpopular course in the belief that the event would justify him ; and that, in uniting with France to support the Pope, he was not only consulting the true interest of England, but was doing what Eng- land actually desired, although blindly aiming at her object by other means. The French wars, however traditionally popular, were fertile only in glory. The ' State Tapera, toI. vii. pp. 18, 19. 9 130 REIGN OF BENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. rivalry of the two countries was a splendid foUy, wast- ing the best blood of botb countries for an impracticable chimera ; and though there was impatience of ecclesi- astical misrule, though there was jealousy of foreign interference, and general irritation with the state of the Church, yet the mass of the people hated Protestantism even worse than they hated the Pope, the clergy, and the consistory courts. They believed — and "Wolsey was, perhaps, the only leading member of the privy council, except Archbishop "Warham, who was not under the same delusion — that it was possible for a national Church to separate itself from the unity of Christendom, and at the same time to crash or prevent innovation of doctrine ; that faith in the sacramental system could still be maintained, though the priesthood by whom those mysteries were dispensed should minister in gilded chains. This was the English historical theory handed down from William Rufus, the second Henry, and the Edwards ; yet it was and is a mere phantasm, a thing of words and paper fictions, as Wolsey saw it to be. Wolsey knew well that an ecclesiastical revolt implied, as a certainty, innovation of doctrine ; that plain men could not and would not continue to reverence the office of the priesthood, when the priests were treated . as the paid officials of an earthly authority higher than their own. He was not to be blamed if he took the people at their word ; if he believed that, in their doctrinal con- servatism, they knew and meant what they were saying : and the reaction which took place under Queen Mary, when the Anglican system had been tried and failed, 1527] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. and the alternative was seen to be absolute between a union with. Rome or a forfeiture of Catholic orthodoxy, prove after all that he was wiser than in the immediate event he seemed to be ; that if his poKcy had succeeded, and if, strengthened by success, he had introduced into the Church those reforms which he had promised and desired,^ he would have satisfied the substantial wishes of the majority of the nation. Like other men of genius, Wolsey also combined practical sagacity with an unmeasured power of hoping. As difficulties gathered round him, he encountered them with the increasing magnificence of his schemes ; and after thirty years' experience of public life, he was as sanguine as a boy. Armed with this little lever of the divorce, he saw himself, in imagination, the rebuilder of the Catholic faith and the deliverer of Europe. The King being remarried, and the succession settled, he would purge the Church of England, and convert the monasteries into intellectual garrisons of pious and learned men, occupying the land from end to end. The feuds with France should cease for ever, and, united in a holy cause, the two countries shoidd restore the Papacy, put down the German heresies, depose the Emperor, and establish in his place some faithful servant of the Church. Then Europe once more at peace, the hordes of the Crescent, which were threatening to settle ' The fallest account of "Wolsey's intentions on Church reform will be found in a letter addressed to him hy Fox, the old blind Bishop of Win- chester, in 1528. The letter is printed in Steype's Memorials JEeeJes., toI. i. Appendix 10. 132 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. tlie quarrels of Christians in tlie "West as they had settled them in the East — by the extinction of Christianity itself, — were to be hurled back into their proper bar- barism.^ These magnificent visions fell from him in conversations with the Bishop of Bayonne, and may be gathered from hints and fragments of his corre- spondence. Extravagant as they seem, the prospect of realizing them was, humanly speaking, neither chime- rical nor even improbable. He had but made the common mistake of men of the world who are the repre- sentatives of an old order of things at the time when that order is doomed and dying. He could not read the signs of the times, and confounded the barrenness of death with the barrenness of a winter which might be followed by a new spring and summer. He beUeved that the old life-tree of Catholicism, which in fact was but cumbering the ground, might bloom again in its old beauty. The thing which he called heresy was the fire of Almighty God, which no politic congregation of princes, no state machinery, though it were never so ' Letters of the Bishop of Bay- onne, Leorand, vol. iii. It is not wacommon to find splendid imagin- ations of this kind haunting states- men of the 1 6th century ; and the recaptare of Constantinople always formed a feature in the picture. A Flan for the Reformation of Ireland, drawn up in 1515, contains the fol- lowing curious passage ; ' The pro- phecy is, that the King of England shall put this land of Ireland into such order that the wars of the land, whereof groweth the vicesofthesame. shaU cease for ever ; and after that God shall give such grace and fortune to the same King that he shall with the army of England and of Ireland suhdue the realm of France to his oheysance for ever, and shall rescue the Greeks, and recover the great city of Constantinople, and shall vanquish the Turks and win the Holy Cross and the Holy Land, and shaU die Emperor of Home, and eternal hlisse shall he his end.' — State Papers, vol, ii. pp. 30, 31. 1527.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 133 active, coiold trample out ; and as in the early years of Christianity the meanest slave who was thrown to the wild beasts for his presence at the forbidden mysteries of the gospel, saw deeper, in the divine power of his faith, into the future even of this earthly world than the sagest of his imperial persecutors, so a truer political prophet than Wolsey would have been found in the most ignorant of those poor men, for whom his myrmidons were searching in the purlieus of London, who were risking death and torture in disseminating the pernicious volumes of the English Testament. If we look at the matter, however, from a more earthly point of view, the causes which immediately defeated Wolsey's policy were not such as human fore- sight could have anticipated. We ourselves, surveying the various parties in Europe with the light of our knowledge of the actual sequel, are perhaps able to un- derstand their real relations ; but if in 1527 a political astrologer had foretold that within two years of that time the Pope and the Emperor who had imprisoned him would be cordial allies, that the positions of England and Spain toward the Papacy would be diametrically reversed, and that the two countries were on the point of taking their posts, which they would ever afterwards maintain, as the champions respectively of the opposite principles to those which at that time they seemed to represent, the prophecy would have been held scarcely less insane than a prophecy six or even three years before the event, that in the year 1854 England would be united with an Emperor Napoleon for the preserv- ation of European order. 134 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH, 2. Henry, then, in the spring of the year 1527, defin- itively breaking the Spanish alliance, formed a league with Francis I., the avowed object of which was the expulsion of the Imperialists from Italy ; with a further intention — if it could be carried into effect — of avenging the outrage offered to Europe in the Pope's imprison- ment, by declaring vacant the Imperial throne. Simul- taneously with the congress at Amiens where the terms of the alliance were arranged, confidential persons were despatched into Italy to obtain an interview — ^if possible — ^with the Pope, and formally laying before him the circumstances of the King's position, to request him to make use of his powers to provide a remedy. It is notice- able that at the outset of the negotiation the King did not fully trust "Wolsey. The latter had suggested, as the simplest method of proceeding, that the Pope should extend his authority as legate, granting him plenary power to act as English vicegerent so long as Eome was occupied by the Emperor's troops. Henry, not wholly satisfied that he was acquainted with his miaister's full intentions in desiring so large a capacity, sent his own secretary, unknown to Wolsey, with his own private propositions — requestiag simply a dispensation to take a second wife, his formet marriage being allowed to stand with no definite sen- tence passed upon it ; or, if that were impossible, leaving the Pope to choose his own method, and settle the ques- tion in the manner least difficult and least offensive.' 1 Xnight to Henry : State Papers, vol. tu. pp, 2, 3. 1527.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 135 "Wolsey, however, soon satisfied the King that he had no sinister intentions. By the middle of the winter we find the private messenger associated openly with Sir Gregory Cassalis, the agent of the minister's communi- cations ;* and a series of formal demands were presented jointly by these two persons ia the names of Henry and the legate ; which, though taking many forms, resolved themselves substantially into one. The Pope was required to make use of his dispensing power to enable the King of England to marry a wife who could bear him children, and thus provide some better se- curity than already existed for the succession to the throne. This demand could not be considered as in itself unreason- able ; and if personal feeling was combined with other motives to induce Henry to press it, personal feeling did not affect the general bearing of the question. The King's desire was publicly urged on public grounds, and thus, and thus only, the Pope was at Kberty to consider it. The marriages of princes have ever been affected by other considerations than those which influence such relations between private persons. Princes may not, as 'unvalued persons' may, 'carve for themselves;' they pay the penalty of their high place, in submitting their affections to the welfare of the State ; and the same causes which regulate the formation of these ties must be allowed to influence the continuance of them. The case which was submitted to the Pope was one of those for which his very power of dispensing had been vested 1 'Wolsey to Cassalis : State Papers, vol. xii. p. 26. 136 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. in him ; and being, as he called himself, the Father of Christendom, the nation thought themselves entitled to call upon him to make use of that power. A resource of the kind must exist somewhere — the relation between princes and subjects indispensably requiring it. It had been vested in the Bishop of E-ome, because it had been presumed that the sanctity of his office would secure an impartial exercise of his authority. And unless he could have shown (which he never attempted to show) that the circiunstances of the succession were not so precarious as to call for his interference, it would seem that the express contingency had arisen which was con- templated in the constitution of the canon law ; ^ and that where a provision had been made by the Church of which he was the earthly head, for difficulties of this precise description, the Pope was under an obligation either to make the required concessions in virtue of his faculty, or, if he found himself unable to make those concessions, to offer some distinct explanation of his re- fusal. I speak of the question as nakedly poKtical. I am not considering the private injuries of which Cathe- rine had so deep a right to complain, nor the compli- cations subsequently raised on the original validity of the first marriage. A poKtical difficulty, onwhicb alone ' The dispensing power of the Popes was not formally limited. Ac- cording to the Eoman lawyers, a faculty lay with them of granting extraordinary dispensations in cases where dispensations would not be usually admissihle — which faculty was to be used, however, dummodo causa cogat urgentissima ne regnum aliquod funditus pereat ; the Pope's business being to decide on the question of urgency. — Sir Gregory Cassalis to Henry VIII., Dtc. 26, 1532. Molls House MS. IS27.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 137 he was bound to give sentence, was laid before the Pope in his judicial capacity, in the name of the nation ; and the painful features which the process afterwards as- sumed are due wholly to his original weakness and vacillation. Deeply, however, as we must aU deplore the scandal and suffering which were occasioned by the dispute, it was in a high degree fortunate, that at the crisis of pub- lic dissatisfaction in England with the condition of the Church, especially in the conduct of its courts of justice, a cause should have arisen which tested the whole ques- tion of Church authority in its highest form ; where the dispute between the laity and the ecclesiastics was re- presented in a process in which the Pope sat as judge ; in which the King was the appellant, and the most vital interests of the nation were at stake upon the issue. It wa.s no accident which connected a suit for divorce with the reformation of religion. The ecclesiastical juris- diction was upon its trial, and the future relations of Church and State depended upon the Pope's conduct in a matter which no technical skill was required to decide, but only the moral virtues of probity and courage. The time had been when the clergy feared only to be unjust, and when the functions of judges might safely be en- trusted to them. The small iniquities of the consistory courts had shaken the popular faith in the continued operation of such a fear ; and the experience of an Alexander VI., a Julius II., and a Leo X. had induced a suspicion that even in the highest quarters justice had ceased to be much considered. It remained for Clement •138 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [fcH. 1. VII. to disabuse men of tlieii: alarms, or by confirming tliem to forfeit for ever the supremacy of his order in England. Nor can it be said for him that the case was pne in which it was unusually difficult to be virtuous. Justice, wounded dignity, and the interests of the See pointed aKke to the same coxirse. Queen Catherine's relationship to the Emperor could not have recommended her to the tenderness of the Pope, and the policy of as- senting to an act which would infallibly alienate Henry from Charles, and therefore attach him to the Roman interests, did not require the eloquence of "Wolsey to make it intelligible. If, because he was ia the Em- peror's power, he therefore feared the personal conse- quences to himself, his cowardice of itself disqualified him to sit as a judge. It does not fall within my present purpose to detail the first stages of the proceedings which followed. In substance they are well known to all readers of English history, and may be understood without difficulty as soon as we possess the clue to the conduct of Wolsey. I shall, however, in a few pages briefly epitomize what At the outset of the negotiation, the Pope, although he would take no positive steps, was aU, in words, which he was expected to be. Neither he nor the cardinals refused to acknowledge the dangers which threatened the country. He discussed freely the position of the different parties, the probabilities of a disputed suc- cession, and the various claimants who would present themselves, if the King died without an heir of undis- 1328.] TBE FALL OF WOLSEY. 139 puted legitimacy.* Gardiner writes to Wol- 1527-8. sey,'^ ' "We did evea more inculcate what speed ^'^'°- '■ and celerity the thing required, and what danger it was to the realm to have this matter hang in suspense. His Holiness confessed the same, and thereupon began to reckon what divers titles might be pretended 1528. by the King of Scots and others, and granted ^^""^ 3o- that, without an heir male, with provision to be made by consent of the State for his succession, and unless that wh^t shall be done herein be established in such fashion as nothing may hereafter be objected thereto, the realm was Hke to come to dissolution.' In stronger language the Cardinal- Governor of Bo- logna declared that ' he knew the gyze of England as well as few men did, and if the King should die without heirs male, he was sure it would cost two hundred thou- sand men's lives. Wherefore he thought, supposing his Grace should have no more children by the Queen, and that by taking of another wife he might have heirs male, the bringing to pass that matter, and by that to avoid the mischiefs afore written, he thought would deserve Heaven.'^ Whatever doubt there might be, therefore, whether the original marriage with Catherine was legal, it was imiversally admitted that there was none about the national desirableness of the dissolution of it ; and if the Pope had been free to judge only by the merits of the case, it is impossible to doubt that he ' Knight and Cassalis to 'Wolsey : Buknet's Collect., p. iz. * Stbtpe's Memorials, -vol. i., Appendix, p. 66. ' Sir F. Bryan and Peter Vannes to Henry ; State Papers, vol. vii. p. 144. 140 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. would have cut the knot, either by granting a dispens- ation to Henry to marry a second wife — his first being formally, though not judicially, separated from him — or in some other way.^ But the Emperor was ' a lion in his path ; ' the question of strength between the French and the Spaniards remained undecided,' and Cle- ment would come to no decision until he was assured of the power of the allies to protect him from the con- sequences. Accordingly he said and unsaid, sighed, sobbed, beat his breast, shuffled, implored, threatened ; " in all ways he endeavoured to escape from his dilemma, to say yes and to say no, to do nothing, to oifend no one, and above all to gain time, with the weak man's hope that ' something might happen ' to extricate him. Em- bassy followed embassy from England, each using lan- guage more threatening than its predecessor. The thing, it was said, must be done, and should be done. If it was not done by the Pope it would be done at home in some other way, and the Pope must take the con- sequences.' Wolsey warned him passionately of the ' Stkype's Memorials, 'Appen- dix, Tol. i. p. 100. 2 Stbtpe's Memorials, Appen- dix, vol. i. pp. 105-6; Buenet's Collectanea, p. 13. ' Wolsey to the Pope, Buknet's Collectanea, p. 16 : Vereor quod tamen neqneo tacere, ne Eegia Ma- jestas, humano divinoque jure quod habet ex omni Christianitate suis his actionibus adjunctum freta, post- quam viderit sedis ApostoliciB gra- tiam et Christi in terris Vicarii clementiam despeiatam Ceesaris in- tuitu, in CUJU9 manu neutiquam est tarn sanctos conatus repiimere, ea tunc moliatur, ea suae causae per- quirat remedia, quae non solum huie Regno eed etiam aliis Christianis prinoipibus oocaBionem subministra- rent sedis Apostolicae auctoritatem et jurisdictionem imminuendi et vilipendendi. IS2S.] THE FALL VF WOLSEY. 141 rising storm,^ a storm which would be so terrible when it burst ' that it would be better to die than to live.' The Pope was strangely unable to believe that the danger could be real, being misled perhaps by other information from the friends of Queen Catherine, and by an over- confidence in the attachment of the people to the Em- peror. He acted throughout in a manner natural to a timid amiable man, who foxmd himself in circumstances to which he was imequal ; and as long as we look at him merely as a man we can pity his embarrassment. He forgot, however, that only because he was supposed to be more than a man had kings and emperors con- sented to plead at his judgment-seat — a fact of which Stephen Gardiner, then Wolsey's secretary, thought it well to remind him in the following striking language : 'Unless,' said the future Bishop of Winchester in the council, at the close of a weary day of unprofitable debating, ' unless some other resolution be taken than I perceive you intend to make, hereupon shall be gathered a marvellous opinion of your Holiness, of the college of cardinals, and of the authority of this See. The King's Highness, and the nobles of the realm who shall be made privy to this, shall needs think that your Holiness and these most reverend and learned councillors either will not answer in this cause, or cannot answer. If you will • Bdknet's Collectanea, p. 20. Wolsey to John Cassalis : ' If his Holyness, which God forbid, shall shew himself unwilling to listen to the King's demands, to rae assuredly it will be but grief to liye longer, for the innumerable evils which I fore- see will then follow. One only sure reraedv remains to prevent the worst calamities. If that be neglected, there is nothing before xis but uni- versal and inevitable ruin.' 142 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. ,21 not, if you do not choose to point out the way to an err- ing man, the care of whom is by God committed to you^ they will say, ' Oh race of men most ungrateful, and of your proper office most oblivious ! You who should be simple as doves are full of aU deceit, and craft, and dis* sembling. If the King's cause be good, we require that you pronounce it good. If it be bad, why wiU. you not say that it is bad, so to hinder a prince to whom you are so much bounden from longer continuing with it ? We ask nothing of you but justice, which the King so loves and values, that whatever sinister things others may say or think of him, he will follow that with all his heart ; that, and nothing else, whether it be for the marriage or against the marriage.' 'But if the King's Majesty,' continued Gardiner, hitting the very point of the difficulty, ' if the King's Majesty and the nobility of England, being persuaded of your good will to answer if you can do so, shall be brought to doubt of your ability, they will be forced to a harder conclusion respecting this See — namely, that God has taken from it the key of knowledge ; and they wiU begin to give better ear to that opinion of some persons to which they have as yet refused to listen, that those Papal laws which neither the Pope himself nor his council can interpret, deserve only to be committed to the flames.' ' I desired his Holiness,' he adds, ' to pon- der well this matter.' * Clement was no hero, but in his worst embarrass- ' Gardiner and Foi to Wolsey : Stkype's JlfewomZs, toI. i. Appendix, p. 92. IS28.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 143 ments his wit never failed him. He answered that he was not learned, and ' to speak truths albeit there was a saying in the canon law, that Pontifex habet omnia jura in scrinio pectoris (the Pope has aU laws locked within his breast), yet God had never given him the key to open that lock.' He was but ' seeking pretexts ' for delay, as Gardiner saw, till the issue of the Italian campaign of the French in the summer of 1528 was decided. He had been liberated, or had been allowed to escape from Rome, in the fear that if detained longer he might nominate a vicegerent ; and was residing at an old ruined castle at Orvieto, waiting upon events, leaving the Holy City stUl occupied by the Priuce of Orange. In the preceding autumn, immediately after the con- gress at Amiens, M. de Lautrec, accompanied by several English noblemen, had led an army across the Alps. He had defeated the Imperialists in the north of Italy in several minor engagements; and in January his success appeared so probable that the Pope took better heart, and told Sir Gregory Cassalis, that if the French would only approach near enough to enable hiTn to plead compulsion, he would grant a commission to Wolsey!, with plenary power to conclude the cause.^ De Lautrec, ' His Holiness being yet in cap- tivity, as he esteemed himself to he, so long as the Almayns and Span- iards continue in Italy, he thought if he should grant this commission that he should have the Emperour his perpetual enemy -without any hope of reconciliation. Notwith- standing he was content rather to put himself in evident ruin, and utter undoing, than the King or your Grace shall suspect any point of in- gratitude in him ; heartily desiring with sighs and tears that the King and your Grace, which have heeu always fast and good to him, will not now suddenly precipitate him for ever : which should be done if im- '44 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. however, foiled in his desire to bring the Imperialists to a decisive engagement, wasted his time and strength in ineffectual petty sieges ; and finally, ia the summer, on the unhealthy plains of Naples, a disaster more fatal in its consequences than the battle of Pavia, closed the prospects of the French to the south of the Alps ; and with them all Wolsey's hopes of realizing his dream. Struck down, not by a visible enemy, but by the silent hand of fever, the French general himself, his English friends, and aU his army melted away from off the earth. The Pope had been wise ia time. He had committed himself in words and intentions ; but he had done no- thing which he could not recall. He obtained his pardon from the Emperor by promising to offend no more ; and from that moment never again entertained any real thought of concession. Acting under explicit directions, mediately on receiving the com- mission your Grace should hegiu process. lie intendeth to save all upright thus. If M. de Lautreo ■would set forwards, ■which he saith daily that he ■will do, hut yet he doth not, at his coming the Pope's Holiness may have good colour to Bay, ' He was required of the com- mission by the ambassador of Eng- land, and denying the same, he was eftsoons required by M. de Lautreo to grant the said commission, inas- much as it was but a letter of justice.' And by this colour he would cover the matter so that it might appear unto the Emperour that the Pope did it not as he that would gladly do displeasure unto the Emperour, but as an indifferent judge, that could not nor might deny justice, specially being required by such personages ; and immediately he would despatch a commission bearing date after the time that M. de Lautrec had been with him or was nigh unto him. The Pope most instantly beseecheth your Grace to be a mean that the King's Highness may accept this in a good part, and that he will take patience for this little time, which, as it is supposed, will be but short. —Knight to Wolsey and the King, Jan. I, 1527-8: Burnet Collections, 12. 13- 1528.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 145 lie made it his object thenceforward to delay and to procrastinate. Charles had no desire to press matters to extremities. War had not yet been declared^ against him by Henry ; nor was he anxious himself to precipi- tate a quarrel from, which, if possible, he would gladly escape. He had a powerful party in England, which it was unwise to alienate by hasty, injudicious measures ; and he could gain all which he himself desired by a simple policy of obstruction. His object was merely to protract the negotiation and prevent a decision, in the hope either that Henry would be wearied into acqiii- escence, or that Catherine herself would retire of her own accord, or, finally, that some happy accident might occur to termiaate the difficulty. It is, indeed, much 1 Such at least was the ultimate conclusion of a curious discussion. When the French herald declared •war, the English herald accompanied him into the Emperor's presence, and when his companion had concluded, followed up his words with an inti- mation that unless the French de- mands were complied with, England would unite to enforce them. The Emperor replied to Francis with defiance. To the English herald he expressed a hope that peace on that side would still he maintained. For the moment the two countries were uncertain whether they were at war or not. The Spanish amhassador in London did not know, and the Court could not tell him. The English ambassador in Spain did not leave his post, but he was placed under VOL. I. surveillance. An embargo on Spanish and English property was laid respectively in the ports of the two kingdoms ; and the merchants and residents were placed under ar- rest. Alarmed by the .outcry in London, the King hastily concluded a truce with the Eegent of the Netherlands, the language of which implied a state of war; but when peace was concluded between France and Spain, Eugland appeared only as a contracting party, not as a principal, and in 1542 it was decided that the antecedent treaties between England and the empire continued in force. See Lokd Herbert; HOLINSHED ; State Papers, vols. vii. viii. and ix. ; with the treaties in RiMEK, vol. vi. part 2. 10 146 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. to the tonour of Charles V. that he resolved to support the Queen. She had thrown herself on his protection ; but princes in such matters consider prudence more than feeling, and he could gain nothing by defending her : while, both for himself and 'for the Church, he risked the loss of much. He over-rated the strength of his English connection, and mistook the English charac- ter ; but he was not blind to the hazard which he was incurring, and would have welcomed an escape from the dilemma perhaps as warmly as Henry would have wel- comed it himself. The Pope, who well knew his feelings, told Gardiner, 'It would be for the wealth of Christendom if the Queen were in her grave ; and he thoughit the Emperor would be thereof most glad of all ; ' saying, also, ' that he thought like as the Emperor had destroyed the temporalities of the Church, so should she be the destruction of the spiritualities.' ^ In the summer of 1538, before the disaster at Naples, Cardinal Campeggio had left Rome on his way to Eng- land, where he was to hear the cause in conjunction with Wolsey. An initial measure of this obvious kind it had been impossible to refuse ; and the pretexts under which it was for many months delayed, were exhausted before the Pope's xiltimate course had been made clear to him. But Campeggio was instructed to protract his journey to its utmost length, giving time for the campaign to decide itself. He loitered into the autumn, under the exciise of gout and other convenient accidents, until the news ' Gardiner to the King : Buknet's Collectanea, p. 426. 1528.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 147 reached liim of De Lautrec's death, wliicli took place on the 2ist of August; and then at length proceeding, he betrayed to Francis I., on passing through Paris, that he had no intention of allowing judgment to be passed upon the cause.^ Even "Wolsey was beguininff to Auffust 21 tremble at what he had attempted, and was doubtful of success." The seeming relief came in time, for Henry's patience was fast running out. He had been over-persuaded into a course which he had never cordially approved. The majority of the . council, especially the Duke of Norfolk and the Duke of Suffolk, were tradition- ally Imperial, and he himself might well doubt whether he might not have foimd a nearer road out of his difficult- ies by adhering to Charles. Charles, after all, was not ruining the Papacy, and had no intention of ruining it ; and his lightest word weighed more at the Court of Rome than the dubious threats and prayers of France. The Bishop of Bayonne, resident French ambassador in Lon- don, whos* remarkable letters transport us back into the very midst of that unquiet and stormy scene, tells us plainly that the French alliance was hated by the country, that the nobility were all for the Emperor, and that among the commons the loudest discontent was openly expressed against Wolsey from the danger of the interruption of the trade with Flanders. Flemish ships had been de- tained in London, and English ships in retaliation had been arrested in the Zealand ports ; corn was unusually dear, and the expected supplies from Spain and Germany ' Duke of Suffolk to Henry the Eightli : State Papers, vol. Tii. p. 183. ' Ibid. 148 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. were cut off; ' while the derangement of the woollen trade, from the reluctance of the merchants to venture purchases, was causing distress all over the country, and Wolsey had been driven to the most arbitrary measures to prevent open disturbance.^ He had set his hopes upon the chance of a single cast which he would not be- lieve could fail him, but on each fresh delay he was compelled to feel his declining credit, and the Bishop of Bayonne wrote, on the 30th of August, 1528, that the Cardinal was in bad spirits, and had told him in confid- ence, that ' if he could only see the divorce arranged, the King remarried, the succession settled, and the laws and the manners and customs of the country reformed, he would retire from the world and would serve God the remaiader of his days.'^ To these few trifles he ' Hall, p. 744. * When the clothiers of Essex, Kent, Wiltshire, Suffolk, and other shires -which are cloth-making, brought cloths to London to be sold, as they were wont, few merchants or none bought any cloth at all. 'Wlien the clothiers lacked sale, then they put from them their spinners, carders, tuckers, and such others that lived by clothworking, which caused the people greatly to murmur, and specially in Suffolk, for if the Duke of Norfolk had not wisely appeased them, no doubt but they had fallen to some rioting. When the King's council was ad\ertised of the incon- venience, the Cardinal sent for a great number of the merchants of London, and to them said, ' Sirs, the King is informed that you use not yourselves like merchants, but like graziers and artificers; for where the clothiers do daily bring cloths to the market for your ease, to their great cost, and then be ready to sell them, you of your wilfulness will not buy them, as you have been accustomed to do. What manner of men be you ? ' said the Cardinal. ' I tell you that the King straitly commaudeth you to buy their cloths as beforetime you have been accustomed to do, upon pain of his high displeasure.' — Hall, p. 746. = Legrand, vol. iii. p. 157. By manners and customs he was refer- ring clearly to his intended reform- ation of the Church. See the let- ter of Fox, Bishop of Winchester IS28.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 149 would be contented to confine himself — only to these ; he was past sixty, he was weary of the world, and his health was breaking, and he would limit his hopes to the execution of a work for which centuries imper- fectly sufficed. It seemed as if he measured his stature by the lengthening shadow, as his sun made haste to its setting. Symptoms of misgiving may be observed in the many anxious letters which he wrote while Campeg- gio was so long upon his road ; and the Bishop of Bay- onne, whose less interested eyes could see more deeply into the game, warned him throughout that the Pope was playing him false.' Only in a revulsion from violent despondency could such a man as Wolsey have allowed himself, on the mere arrival of the legate, and after a few soft words from him, to write in the following strain to Sir Gregory Cassalis : — 'You cannot beUeve the exultation with October 4. which at length I find myself successful in the object for which these many years, with aU my industry, I have laboured. At length I have found means to bind my most excellent sovereign and this glorious realm to the holy Roman See in. faith and obedience for ever. Henceforth will this people become the m.ost sure pillar of support to bear up the sacred fabric of the Church. Henceforth, in recompense for that enduring feKcity which he has se- cured to it, our most Holy Lord has aU England at his devotion. In brief time will this noble land make its grateful acknowledgments to his clemency at once for (Stbtpe'8 JIf«)«ona&, vol. ii. p. 25), in which "Wolsey's intentions are dwelt upon at length. ' Legkand, vol. iii. pp. 136,-7. ISO REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGBTH. [CH. 2. the preservation of the most just, most wise, most excel- lent of princes, and for the secure establislnnent of the realm and the protection of the royal succession.' ' This letter "was dated on the fourth of Oc- tober, and was written in the hope that the Pope had collected his courage, and that the legate had brought powers to proceed to judgment. In a few days the prospect was again clouded, and Wolsey was once more in despair.^ Campeggio had brought with him instructions if possible to arrange a compromise, — or if a compromise was impossible, to make the best use of his ingenuity, and do nothing and allow nothing to be done. In one of two ways, howe-ver, it was hoped that he might effect a peaceful solution. He urged the King to give way and to pro- ceed no further ; and this failing, as he was prepared to find, he urged the same thing upon the Queen.' He invited Catherine, or he was directed to invite her, in the Pope's name,* for the sake of the general interests of Christendom, to take the vows and enter what was called religio laxa, a state in which she might live unen- cumbered by obligations except the easy one of chastity, and free from all other restrictions either of habit, diet, or order. The proposal was "Wolsey's, and was formed when he found the limited nature of Campeggio's in- structions;^ but it was adopted by the latter; and I cannot but think (though I have no proof of it) that it ' State Papers, vol. yii. pp. 96,-7. 2 Wolsey to Cassalis : Ibid. p. 100. ' State Papers, vol. vii. pp. 106,-7. * Itid. p. 113'. ' Ibid. vii. p. 113. 1528.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 151 was not adopted without tlie knowledge of the Emperor. Whatever were his own iaterests, Charles V. gave Catherine his unwavering support : he made it his duty to maintain her in the ignominious position in which she was placed, and submitted his own conduct to be guided by her wishes. It cannot be doubted, however, from the Pope's words, and also from the circumstances of the case, that if she coidd have prevailed upon herself to yield, it would have relieved him from a painful em- barrassment. As a prince, he must have felt the sub- stantial justice of Henry's demand, and in refusing to allow the Pope to pass a judicial sentence of divorce, he could not but have known that he was compromising the position of the Holy See : while Catherine herself, on the other hand, if she had yielded, would have retired without a stain ; no opinion would have been pronounced upon her marriage ; the legitimacy of the Princess Mary would have been left without impeachment ; and her right to the succession, in the event of no male heir fol- lowing from any new connection which the King might form, would have been readily secured to her by Act of Parliament. It may be asked why she did not yield, and it is difficult to answer the question. She was not a person who would have been disturbed by the loss of a few Court vanities. Her situation as Henry's wife could not have had many charms for her, nor can it be thought that she retained a personal affection for him. If she had loved him she would have suffered too deeply in the struggle to have continued to resist, and the cloist«r woidd- have seemed a paradise. Or if the cloister 152 REIGiV OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. liad appeared too sad a shelter for her, she might have gone back to the gardens of the Alhambra, where she had played as a child, carrying with her the affectionate remembrance of every English heart, and welcomed by her own people as an injured saint. Nor again can we suppose that the possible injury of her daughter's pros- pects from the birth of a prince by another marriage could have seemed of so vast moinent to her. Those prospects were already more than endangered, and would have been rather improved than brought into further peril. It is not for us to dictate the conduct which a woman smarting imder injuries so cruel ought to have pursued. She had a right to choose the course which seemed the best to herself, and England especially could not claim of a stranger that readiness to sacrifice herself which it might have demanded and exacted of one of its own children. We may regret, however, what we are unable to censure ; and the most refined ingenuity coidd scarcely have invented a more unfortunate answer than that which the Queen returned to the legate's request. She seems to have said that she was ready to take vows of chastity if the King would do the same. It does not appear whe- ther the request was formally made, or whether it was merely suggested to her in private conversation. That she told the legates, however, what her ansvrer woidd be, appears certaia from the following passage, sadly indicat- ing the 'devices of policy ' to which in this unhappy busi- ness honourable men allowed themselves to be driven : — ' Forasmuch as it is like that the Queen shall make I52S.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 153 marvellous difficulty, and in nowise be conformable to enter religion^ or take vows of chastity, but that to induce her thereunto, there must be ways and means of high policy used, and all things possible devised to en- courage her to the same ; wherein per case she shall resolve that she iu no wise will condescend so to do, unless that the Bling's Highness also do the semblabli for his part ; the King's said orators shall therefore in like wise ripe and instruct themselves by their secret learned council in the Court of Rome, if, for so great a benefit to ensue unto the King's succession, realm, and subjects, with the quiet of his conscience, his Grace should promise so to enter religion on vows of chastity for his part, only thereby to conduce the Queen there- unto, whether in that case the Pope's Holiness may dispense with the King's Highness for the same promise, oath, or vow, discharging his Grace clearly of the same.'* The explanation of the Queen's conduct lies probably in regions into which it is neither easy nor well to penetrate ; in regions of outraged delicacy and wounded pride, in a vast drama of passion which had been enacted behiad the scenes. From the significant hints which are let fall of the original cause of the estrangement, it was of a kind more difficult to endure than the ordinary trial of married women, the transfer of a husband's affection to some fairer face ; and a wife whom so painful a misfortune had failed to crush would ' I Take the veil. 2 Instruction to the Ambassadors at Eome : State Fapers, vol. vii. p 1^6. 154 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. be likely to have been moved by it to a deeper and more bitter indignation even, because wbile she could not blame herself, she knew not whom she might rightly al- low herself to blame. And if this were so, the Kiag is not likely to have allayed the storm when at length, putting faith ia Wolsey's promises, he allowed himself openly to regard another person as his future wife, establishing her in the palace at Greenwich under the same roof with the Queen, with reception-rooms, and royal state, and a posi- tion openly acknowledged,^ the gay Court and courtiers forsaking the gloomy dignity of the actual wife for the gaudy splendour of her brilliant rival. Tamer blood than that which flowed in the veins of a princess of Castile would have boiled under these indignities ; and we have little reason to be surprised if policy and pru- dence were alike forgotten by Catherine in the bitterness of the draught which was forced upon her, and if her own personal wrongs outweighed the interests of the world. Henry hatl proceeded to the last xmjustifiable extremity as soon as the character of Campeggio's mis- sion had been made clear to him, as if to demonstrate to all the world that he was determined to persevere at all costs and hazards.^ Taking the management of the negotiation into his own keeping, he sent Sir Francis Bryan, the cousin of Anne Boleyn, to the Pope, to an- nounce that what he required must be done, and to declare peremptorily, no more with covert hints, but with open menace, that in default of help from Rome, ' Letters oftM Siahop of JBayotme, Legrand, toI. iii. ^ Legband, vol. iii. p. 231. IS28.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 155 lie would lay the matter before Parliament, to be settled at home by the laws of his own coimtry. Meanwhile, the Emperor, who had hitherto conducted himself with the greatest address, had fallen into his first error. He had retreated skilfully out of the em- barrassment in which the Pope's imprisonment iavolYed him, and mingling authority and dictation with kind- ness and deference, he had won over the Holy See to his devotion, and neutralized the danger to which the al- liance of France and England threatened to expose him. His correspondence with the latter country assured him of the unpopularity of the course which had been pursued by the Cardinal ; he was aware of the obstruction of trade which it had caused, and of the general displeasure felt by the people at the breach of an old friendship ; while the league with France in behalf of the Roman Church had been barren of results, and was made ridiculous by the obvious preference of the Pope for the enemy from whom it was formed to deliver him. If Charles had understood the English temper, therefore, and had known how to avail himself of the opportunity, events might have run in a very different channel. But he was not aware of the earnestness with which the people were bent upon securing the succession, nor of their loyal attach- ment to Henry. He supposed that disapproval of the course followed by Wolsey to obtain the divorce implied an aversion to it altogether ; and trusting to his interest in the privy council, and to his commercial connection with the city, he had attempted to meet menace with menace ; he had replied to the language addressed by i=;(5 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. Henry to tte Pope witli an attempt to feel the pulse of English disaffection, and he opened a correspondence with the Earl of Desmond for an Irish revolt.^ The opportunity for a movement of this kind had not yet arrived. There was in England, at least, as yet no wide disaffection ; but there was a chance of serious out- breaks ; and Henry instantly threw himself upon the nation. He summoned the peers by circular to London, and calling a general meeting composed of the nobility, the privy council, the lord mayor, and the great merchants of the city, he laid before them a specific detail of his objects in desiring the divorce ; ' Nov. 8. ' Instruoion pava Goazalo Fer- nandez que se envoie a Ireland al Conde de Desmond, 1529.— MS. Archives at Brussels.— yA« Filgrim, note I, p. 169. ' Henrici regis ootavi de repudi- anda doming, Catherina oratio Idibus Noveinbris habita 1528. Veneranda et chara notis prse- sulum procerum atque consiliariorum cotors quos communis reipublicae atque regni nostri administrandi cura conjunxit : Hand vos latet diving nos Providently viginti jam ferme annis banc nostram patriam tanta felicitate rexisse ut in illi ab bostilibus incursionibus tuta semper interea fuerit et nos in bis bellis quae susoepimus victores semper evasimus ; ct quanquam in eo glori&i jure pos- sumus, majorem tranquillitatem opes et honores prioribus hue usque duc- tis socculis, nunquam subditis a majoribus parentibusque nostris An- glic regibus quam a nobis provenisse, tamen quando cum hac gloria in mentera una venit ac concurrit mor- tis cogitatio, veremur ne nobis sine prole legitime decedentibus majorem ex morte nostra patiamini calami- tatem quam ex vitS, fructum ac emo- lumentum percepistis. Eecens enira in quoniudam vestrorum animis adbuc est illius cruenti temporis memoria quod a Eicardo tertio cum avi nostri materni Edwardi Quarti statum in controversiam vocasset ej usque heredes regno atque vit^ priv^set illatum est. Turn ex his- toriis notae sunt illoe dirae strages quae a clarissimis Angliae gentibus Eboracensi atque Lancastrensi, dum inter se de regno et ifflperio multis sevis contenderent, populo evenerunt. Ac illae ex justis nuptiis inter Hen- ricum Septimum et dominam Eli- zabetbam clarissimos nostros paren- tes contractis in nobis inde legitimS 1528.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 157 and informed them of the nature of the measures which had been taken.* This, the French ambassador informs ^ Hall. Letters of the Bishop of Bayonne, Legrand, vol. iii. natil sobole sopitee tandem desierunt. Si Tero quod absit, regalis ex nostris nuptiis stirps quae jure deinceps regnare possit non nascatur, hoc regniiin civilibus atque intestinis se Tersabit tumultibus aut in extero- rum dominationem atque potestatem veniet. Nam quanqaam forma atque venustate singalari, quae magno nobis solatio fuit flliam Dominam Mariam ex nobilissima fcemin^ Do- mina Catberina procreavimus, tamen a piis atque eruditis theologis nuper accepimus quia earn quas Arturi fratris nostri conjux ante fuerat uxorem duximus nostras nuptias jure divino esse vetitas, partumque inde editum non posse censeri legitimum. Id quod eo vehementius nos angit et exoruciat, quod cum superiori anno legates ad conciliandas inter Au- reliensem ducem et filiam nostram Mariam nuptias ad Franciscum Gallorum regem misissemus, a quo- dam ejus consiliario responsum est, ' antequam de hujusmodi nuptiis agatum inquirendum esse prius an Maria fuerit filia nostra legitima ; constat enim,' inquit, 'qnod ex doming Catberina, fratris sui vidu^, cujusmodi nuptia; jure divino inter- dictae snnt, suscepta est.' Quae oratio quanto metu ac borrore ani- mum nostrum turbaverit quia res ipsa aeternte tam animi quam cor- poris salutis periculum in se continet, et quam perplexis cogitationibus conscientiam occupat, tos quibus et capitis aut fortunae ac multo magis animarum jactura immineret, reme- dium nioi adbibere velitis, ignorare non posse arbitror. Haso una res — quod Deo teste et in Eegis oraculo affirraamos — nos impulit ut per legates dootissimorum per totum orbem Christianum theologorum sententias exquireremus et Eoraani Pontificis legatum "verum atque asquum judicium de tanta causa laturum ut tranquilU deinceps et integr^ couscieutia inconjugio licito vivere possimus accerseremus. lu quo si ex saeris litteris hoc quo viginti jam fere annis gavisi sumus matrimonium jure divino pennissum esse manifeste liquidoque constabit, non modo ob conscientiae tranquil- litatem, verum etiam ob amabiles mores virtutesque quibus regina praedita et ornata est, nihil optatius nibilque jucundius accidere nobis potest. Nam praeterquam quod regali atque nobili genere prognata est, tanta praeterea comitate et obse- quio conjugali tum cseteris animi morumque ornamentis quae nobi- litatem illustrant omnes foemiuas bis viginti annis sic mibi anteire •visa est ut si a conjugio liber essem ac solutus, si jure divino liceret, banc solam prae caeteris foeminis stabili mihi jure ao fcedere matrimoniali REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. US, gave wide satisfaction and served mucli to allay the disquiet; but so great was the indignation against Wolsey, that disturbances in London were every day anticipated; and at one time the danger appeared so threatening, that an order of council was issued com- manding all strangers to leave the city, and a general search was 'instituted for arms.' The strangers aimed at were the Flemings, whose numbers made them formidable, and who were, perhaps, supposed to be ready to act under instructions from abroad. The cloud, however, cleared away ; the order was not en- forced ; and the propitious moment for treason had not yet arrived. The Emperor had felt so confident that, in the autumn of 1538, he had boasted that, 'before the winter was over, he would fling Henry from his throne by the hands of his own subjects.' The words had been repeated to Wolsey, who mentioned them conjungerem. Si vero in hoc judicio matrimonium nostrum jure divino prohibitum, ideoque ab initio nullum iriitumque fuisse pronuncietur, in- folix hie mens casus multis lacrimis lugendus ac deplorandus erit. Non raodo quod a tamillustris et amabilis muUeris consuetudine et consortio divertendum sit, sed multo magis quod specie ad similitudinem veri conjugii decepti in amplexibus plus- quara fornicariis tam multos annos trivimus nulla legitime prognatS nobis sobole, quae, nobis mortuis, hujus inclyti regni hereditatem ca- HiB nostrse curse istajque soli- citudines sunt quse mentem atque conscientiam nostram dies noctesque torquent et excruoiant, quibus au- ferendis et profligandia remedium ex hao legatione et judicio opportunum quserimus. Ideoque vos quorum yirtuti atque fidei multum attribui- mus rogamus ut certum atque genu- inum nostrum de bac re sensum quern ex nostro sermone percepistis populo declaretis : eumque excitetis ut noMscum una oraret ut ad con- soientiae nostrse pacem atque tran- quillitatem in hoc judicio Veritas multis jam annis tenebris involuta tandem patefiat. — ^Wilkins'b Con- cilia, vol. iii. p. 714. ' Leqrand, vol. iii. 1528.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 159 openly at Hs table before more than a hundred gentle- men. A person present exclaimed, 'That speech has lost the Emperor more than a hundred thousand hearts among us ; ' ' an expression which reveals at once the strength and the weakness of the imperial party. Eng- land might have its own opinions of the policy of the government, but it was in no humour to tolerate trea- son, and the first hint of revolt was followed by an instant recoil. The discovery of more successful in- trigues in Scotland and Ireland completed the destruc- tion of Charles's influence ; ' and the result of these ill- judged and premature efforts was merely to unite the nation ia their determination to prosecute the divorce. Thus were the various parties in the vast struggle which was about to commence gravitating into their places ; and mistake combiaed with policy to place them in their true positions. Wolsey, in submitting 'the King's matter ' to the Pope, had brought to issue the question whether the Papal authority should be any longer recog- nized in England ; and he had secured the ruin of that authority by the steps through which he hoped to establish it ; while Charles, by his unwise endeavours to foment a rebellion, severed with his own hands the links of a friend- ship which would have been seriously embarrassing if it had continued. By him, also, was dealt the concluding stroke in this first act of the drama; and though we may grant bJTn credit for the ingenuity of his contriv- ance, he can claim it only at the expense of his probity. ' Legrand, Tol. iii. pp. 232,-3. 2 State Tapers, vol. vii. p. 120 ; Ibid. p. 186. i6o REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. The Pope, when the commission was appointed for the trial of the cause in England, had given a promise in writ- ingthat the commission should not be revoked. It seemed, therefore, that the legates would be compelled, in spite of themselves, to pronounce sentence; and that the settlement of the question, in one form or other, could not long be delayed. At the pressure of the crisis in the winter of 1538-9, a document was produced alleged to have been found in Spain, which furnished a pretext for a recall of the engagement, and opening new questions, indefinite and inexhaustible, rendered the passing of a sentence in England impossible. Unhappily, the weight of the King's claim (however it had been rested on its true merits in conversation and in letters) had, by the perverse ingenuity of the lawyers, been laid on certain informalities and defects in the original bull of dispens- ation, which had been granted by Julius II. for the mar- riage of Henry and Catherine. At the moment when the legates' court was about to be opened, a copy of a brief was brought forward, bearing the same date as the bull, exactly meeting the objection. The authenticity of this brief was open, on its own merits, to grave do\ibt ; and suspicion becomes certainty when we find it was dropped out of the controversy so soon as the immediate object was gained for which it was produced. But the legates' hands were instantly tied by it. The ' previous question ' of authenticity had necessarily to be tried before they could take another step ; and the ' original ' of the brief being in the hands of the Emperor, who refused to send it into England, but offered to send it to Rome, the 1528-9.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 161 cause was virtually transferred to Rome, where Henry, as lie knew, was unlikely to consent to plead, or where lie could liimself rule the decision. He had made a stroke o£ political finesse, which answered not only the purpose that he immediately intended, but answered, also, the purpose that he did not intend — of dealing the hardest blow which it had yet received to the supremacy of the Holy See. The spring of 1539 was wasted in fruitless ^"7 28- efibrts to obtain the brief. At length, in May, the pro- ceedings were commenced ; but they were commenced only in form, and were never more than an illusion. Catherine had been instructed in the course which she was to pursue. She appealed from the judgment of the legates to that of the Pope ; and the Pope, with the plea of the new feature which had arisen in the case, declared that he could not refuse to revoke his promise. Having consented to the production of the brief, he had in fact no alternative ; nor does it appear what he could have urged in excuse of himself. He may have suspected the forgery ; nay, it is certain that in England he was believed to be privy to it ; but he coidd not ignore an important feature of necessary evidence, especially when pressed upon him by the Emperor ; and it was in fact no more than an absurdity to admit the authority of a Papal commission, and to refuse to permit an appeal from it to the Pope in person. We may thank Clement for dispelling a chimera by a simple act of cansistencJ^ The power of the See of Rome in England was a con- stitutional fiction, acknowledged only on condition that VOL. 1. 11 i63 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. it would consent to be inert. So long as a legates' court sat in London, men were aUe to conceal from theniselves the fact of a foreign jurisdiction, and to feel that, substantially, their national independence was re- spected. When the fiction aspired to become a reality, but one consequence was possible. If Henry himself would have stooped to plead at a foreign tribunal, the spirit of the nation would not have permitted him to in- flict so great a dishonour on the free majesty of England. So fell Wolsey's great scheme, and with it fell the last real chance of maintaining the Pope's authority in England under any fotm. The people were smarting under the long humiliation of the delay, and Ul endured to see the interests of England submitted, as they vir- tually were, to the arbitration of a foreign prince. The Emperor, not the Pope, was the true judge who sat to decide the quarrel ; and their angry jealousy refused to tolerate longer a national dishonour. - ' The great men of the reahn,' wrote the legates, ' are storming in bitter wrath at our procrastination. Lords and commons alike complaia that they are made to ex- pect at the hands of strangers things of vital moment to themselves and their fortunes. And many persons here who would desire to see the Pope's authority in this country diminished or annulled, are speaking in lan- guage which we cannot repeat without horror.' And when, being in such a mood, they were mocked, after two weary years of negotiation, by the opening of ' Subnet's Collectanea, p. 41. IS29-] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 163 a fresh, vista of diflttoulties, wlieii they were informed that the further hearing of the cause was transferred to Italy, even Wolsey, with certain ruin before him, rose in protest before such a dream of shame. He was no more the Roman legate, but the English minister. ' If the advocation be passe^d,' he wrote to J"ly 27- Cassalis,^ ' or shall now at any time hereafter pass, with citation of the King in person, or by proctor, to the court of Rome, or with any clause of interdiction or excommu- nication, vel cum invocatione brackii sceciilaris, whereby the King should be precluded from takiag his advantage otherwise, the dignity and prerogative royal of the King's crown, whereunto all the nobles and subjects of this realm will adhere and stick unto the death, may not toler- ate nor suffer that the same be obeyed. And to say the truth, in so doiag the Pope should not only show himself the King's enemy, but also as much as in him is, provoke all other princes and people to be the semblable. Nor shall it ever be seen that the King's cause shall be ven tUated or decided in any place out of his own realm , but that if his Grace should come at any time to the Court of Rome, he icould do the same toith such a main and army royal as should he formidable to the Pope and all Italy.'''' ' State Papers, vol. vii. p. 193. ^ The Emperor could as little trust Clement as the English, and to the last moment could not tell how he would act. ' II me semhle,' wrote Inigo di Mendoza to Charles on the 17th of June, 1529, — ' 11 me semble que Sa Saintete differe autant qu'il peut ce qu'auparavant il ayoit promis, et je Drains qu'il n'ait ordonne aux legatz ce qui jusques a present avoit reste en suspensqu'ils precedent par la premiere commission. Ce qui faisant Totre Majeste peut tenir la Eeiue autant que condamne.' — MS. Archives at Brussels, The sort of influence to which the 164 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. Wolsey, howeTer, failed in Ms protest ; tlie advoca- tion was passed, Campeggio left England, and lie was lost. A crisis had arrived, and a revolution of policy- was inevitable. From the accession of Henry VII., the country had been governed by a succession of ecclesi- astical ministers, who being priests as well as statesmen, were essentially conservative ; and whose efforts in a posi- tion of constantly increasing difficulty had been directed towards resisting the changing tendencies of the age, and either evading a reformation of the Church while they admitted its necessity, or retaining the conduct of it in their own hands, while they were giving evidence of their inability to accompKsh the work. It was now over ; the ablest representative of this party, in a last desperate effort to retain power, had decisively failed. Writs were issued for a Parliament when the legates' de- parture was determined, and the consequences were inevitable. Wolsey had known too well the un- Sept. 25. See of Rome was amenable appears in another letter to the Emperor, •written from Eorae itself on the 4th of October. The Pope and cardinals, it is to be remembered, were claim- ing to be considered the supreme court of appeal in Christendom. ' Si je ne m' abuse tous ou la pluspart du Saint College sont plus afifectionuez ^ vostre dite Majestfe que a autre Prince Chrestien : de vous escrire, Sire, particuliferement toutes leurs responses seroit chose trop longue. Tant y a que elles sont telles quevotreMajeste araisondoibt grandement se contenter d'icelles. . . Seulement diray derechef a vostre Majesty, et me souvient I'avoir diet plusieurs fois, qu'il est en vostre Majeste gaigner et entre- tenir perpetuellement ce college en vostre devotion en distribuant seule- ment entre les pvincipaulx d'eulx en pensions et benefices la somrae de vingt mille ducas, I'ung mille, 1' autre deulx ou trois mille. Et est c«cy chose, Sire, que plus vous touche que ^ autre Prince Chrestien pour les affaires que vostre Majeste a jour- nellement S, despesoher en ceste court.' — M. de Praet to Charles V. August 5th, 1529. MS. Ibid. IS29-] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 165 popiilarity of his foreign policy, to venture on calling a Parliament himself. He relied on success as an ultimate justification ; and inasmuch as success had not followed, he was obliged to bear the necessary fate of a minister who, in a free country, had thwarted the popular will, and whom fortune deserted in the struggle. The bar- riers which his single hand had upheld suddenly gave way, the torrent had free course, and he himself was the first to be swept away. In modern language, we should describe what took place as a change of ministry, the Government being transferred to an opposition, who had been irritated by long depression under the hands of men whom they despised, and who were borne into power by an irresistible force in a moment of excitement and danger. The King, who had been persuaded against his better judgment to accept Wolsey's schemes, ad- mitted the rising spirit without reluctance, contented to moderate its action, but no longer obstructing or per- mitting it to be obstructed. Like all great English statesmen, he was constitutionally conservative, but he had the tact to perceive the conditions under which, in critical times, conservatism is possible ; and although he continued to endure for himself the trifling of the Papacy, he would not, for the sake of the Pope's interest, delay further the investigation of the complaints of the people agaiast the Church ; while in the future prose- cution of his own cause, he resolved to take no steps ex- cept with the- consent of the legislature, and in a ques- tion of national moment, to consult only the nation's wishes. l66 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. The new ministry teld a middle place between the moving party in the Commons and the expelled ecclesias- tics, the principal members of it being the chief repre- sentatives of the old aristocracy, who had been Wolsey's fiercest opponents, but who were disinclined by constitu- tion and sympathy from sweeping measures. An attempt was made, indeed, to conciliate the more old-fashioned of the churchmen, by an offer of the seals to Warham, Arch- bishop of Canterbury, probably because he originally opposed the marriage between the King and his sister- in-law, and because it was hoped that his objections re- mained unaltered. Warham, however, as we shall see, had changed his mind : he declined, on the plea of age, and the office of chancellor was given to Sir Thomas More, perhaps the person least disaffected to the clergy who could have been found among the leading laymen. The substance of power was vested in the Dukes of Nor- folk and Suffolk, the great soldier-nobles of the age, and Sir William Pitz-WiUiam, lord admiral ; to all of whom the ecclesiastical domination had been most intolerable, while they had each of them brilliantly distinguished themselves in the wars with France and Scotland. Ac- cording to the French ambassador, we must add one more minister, supreme, if we may trust him, above them all. ' The Duke of Norfolk,' he writes, ' is made presidisnt of the council, the Duke of Suffolk vice-president, and above them both is Mistress Anne ; ' ^ this last addition to the council being one which boded little good to the in- ' Legband, vol. iii. p. 377. I529-] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 167 terests of the See that had so long detained her in ex- pectation. So confident were the destructive party of the temper of the approaching Parliament, and of the irresist- ible pressure of the times, that the general burden of conversation at the dinner-tables in the great 1 . T 1 1 • • October. houses m liondon was an exulting expectation of a dissolution of the Church establishment, and a con- fiscation of ecclesiastical property; the King himself being the only obstacle which was feared by them. ' These noble lords imagine,' continues the same writer, ' that the Cardinal once dead or ruined, they will incon- tinently plunder the Church, and strip it of all its wealth,' adding that there was no occasion for biTn to write this in cipher, for it was everywhere openly spoken of.* Movements, nevertheless, which are pregnant with vital change, are slow ia assuming their essential direc- tion, even after the stir has commenced. Circumstances do not immediately open themselves ; the point of vision alters gradually; and fragments of old opinions, and prepossessions, and prejudices remain interfused with the new, even in the clearest minds, and cannot at a moment be shaken off. Only the xmwise change sud- denly; and we can never too often remind ourselves, when we see men stepping forward with uncertainty and hesitation over a road, where to us, who know the actual future, ail seems so plain, that the road looked different to the actors themselves, who were beset with imagin- ations of the past, and to whom the gloom of the future Legkand, vol. ill. p. 374. l68 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. \cA. 2. appeared thronged witli phantoms of possible contin- gencies. The hasty expectations of the noble lords were checked by Henry's prudence ; and though parties were rapidly arranging themselves, there was still confusion. The city, though disiucHned to the Pope and the Church, continued to retain an incHnation for the Emperor ; and the Pope had friends among Wolsey's enemies, who, by his OYerthrow, were pressed forward iato prominence, and divided the victory with the reformers. The pre- sence of Sir Thomas More iu the council was a guaran- tee that no exaggerated measures agaiust the Church would be permitted so long as he held the seals ; and Henry, perhaps, was anxious to leave room for concilia- tion, which he hoped that the Pope would desire as much as himself, so soon as the meeting of Parliament had convinced him. that the mutinous disposition of the na- tion had not been overstated by his own and Wolsey's letters. The impression conceived two years before of the hostile relations between the Pope and Charles had not yet been wholly effaced ; and even as late as September, 1539, after the closing of the legates' court, in the very heat of the public irritation, there were persons who believed that when Clement met his Imperial captor face to face, and the interview had taken place which had been arranged for the ensuing January, his eyes would be opened, and that he would fall back upon England.' At the same time, the incongruities in the constitution of • Leokand, vol. iii. p. 355. 1529.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 169 tlie coimcil became so early apparent, that their agree- ment was thought impossible, and Wolsey's return to power was discussed openly as a probability ' — a result which Anne Boleyn, who, better than any other person, knew the Eiag's feelings, never ceased to fear, till, a year after his disgrace, the welcome news were brought to her that he had sunk into his long rest, where the sick load of office and of obloquy would gall his back no more. There was a third party in the country, unconsidered as yet, who had a part to play in the historical drama : a party which, indeed, if any one had known it, was the most important of all ; the only one which, in a true, high sense, was of importance at all ; and for the sake of which, little as it then appeared to be so, the whole work was to be done — composed at that time merely of poor men, poor cobblers, weavers, carpenters, trade appren- tices, and humble artisans, men of low birth and low estate, who might be seen at night stealing along the lanes and alleys of London, carrying with them some pre- cious load of books which it was death to possess ; and giv- ing their lives gladly, if it must be so, for the brief tenure of so dear a treasure. These men, for the present, were likely to fare ill from the new ministry. They were the disturbers of order, the anarchists, the men disfigured pravitate heretica, by monstrous doctrines, and conse- quently by monstrous lives — ^who railed at authorities, and dared to read New Testaments with their own eyes — who, consequently, by their excesses and extrava- 1 Legrand, vol. iii. p. 355. 170 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. gances, brought discredit upon liberal opinions, and wbonj moderate liberals (as tbey always hare done, and always will do while human nature remains itself) held it ne- cessary for their credit's sake to persecute, that a cen- sorious world might learn to make no confusion between true wisdom and the folly which seemed to resemble it. The Protestants had not loYcd Wolsey, and they had no reason to love him ; but it was better to bear a fagot of dry sticks in a procession when the punishment was eymboKc, than, lashed fast to a stake in Smithfield, amidst piles of the same fagots kindled into actual flames, to sink iato a heap of blackened dust and ashes ; and before a year had passed, they would gladly have ac- cepted again the hated Cardinal, to escape from the phi- losophic mercies of Sir Thomas More. The niimber of English Protestants at this time it is difficidt to conject- ure. The importance of such men is not to be measured by counting heads. In 1526, they were organized into a society, calling themselves 'the Christian brother- hood,' ^ with a central committee sitting in London; with subscribed fimds, regularly audited, for the pur- chase of Testaments and tracts ; and with paid agents, who travelled up and down the country to distribute them. Some of the poorer clergy belonged to the so- ciety ; " and among the city merchants there were many well inclined to it, and who, perhaps, attended its meet- ings ' by night, secretly, for fear of the Jews.' But, as ' Memorandum relating to the Society of Christian Brethren. Rolls Mouse MS. ' Dalabeb's narrative, printed in Foxe, vol. iv. Seeley's Ed. 1529.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 171 a rule, ' property and influence ' continued to Hold aloof in the usual haughty style, and the pioneers of the new opinions had yet to win their way along a scorched and blackened path of suffering, before the State would con- sent to acknowledge them. We think bitterly of these things, and yet we are but quarrelling with what is in- evitable from, the constitution of the world. Kew doc- trines ever gain readiest hearing among the common people; not only because the interests of the higher classes are usually in some degree connected with the maintenance of existing institutions ; but because ignor- ance is itself a protection against the many consider- ations which embarrass the judgment of the educated. The value of a doctrine cannot be determined on its own apparent merits by men whose habits of mind are settled in other forms ; while men of experience know well that out of the thousands of theories which rise in the fertile soil below them, it is but one here and one there which grows to maturity ; and the precarious chances of pos- sible vitality, where the opposite probabilities are so enormous, oblige them to discourage and repress opinions which threaten to disturb established order, or which, by the rules of existing beliefs, imperil the souls of those who entertain them. Persecution has ceased among ourselves, because we do not any more believe that want of theoretic orthodoxy in matters of faith is necessarily fraught with the tremendous consequences which once were supposed to be attached to it. If, however, a school of Thugs were to rise among us, making murder a re- ligious service ; if they gained proselytes, and the prose- 172 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. lytes put their teaching in execution, we should speedily begin again to persecute opinion. What teachers of Thuggism ■would appear to ourselves, the teachers of heresy actually appeared to Sir Thomas More, only being as much more hateful as the eternal death of the soul is more terrible than the single and momentary separation of it from the body. There is, I think, no just ground on which to condemn conscientious Catholics on the score of persecution, except only this : that as we are now convinced of the injustice of the persecuting laws, so among those who believed them to be just, there were some who were led by an instinctive protest of human feeling to be lenient in the execution of those laws ; while others of harder nature and more narrow sympathies enforced them without reluctance, and even with exultation. The heart, when it is rightly consti- tuted, corrects the foUy of the head; and wise good men, even though they entertain no conscious misgiving as to the soundness of their theories, may be delivered from the worst consequences of those theories, by trust- ing their more genial instincts. And thus, and thus only, are we justified in censuring those whose names figure largely in the persecuting lists. Their defence is Impregnable to logic. "We blame them for the absence of that humanity which is deeper than logic, and which should have taught them to refuse the conclusions of their speculative creed. Such, then, was the state of parties in the autumn of 1529. The old conservatives, the political ecclesiastics, had ceased to exist, and the clergy as a body were para- lyzed by corruption. There remained — 1529.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 173 The English party who had succeeded to power, and who were bent upon a secular revolt. The Papal party, composed of theoretic theologians, like Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, and represented on the council by Sir Thomas More And both of these were united in their aversion to the third party, that of the doctrinal Protestants, who were etiU. called heretics. These three substantially divided what was sound in England ; the first composed of the mass of the people, representing the principles of prudence, justice, good sense, and the working faculties of social life : the two last sharing between them the higher qualities of noble- ness, enthusiasm, self-devotion ; but in their faith being without discretion, and in their pietj' without imderstand- iag. The problem of the Reformation was to reunite vir- tues which coidd be separated only to their mutual con- fusion ; and to work out among them such inadequate reconciliation as the wilfulness of human nature would allow. Before I close this chapter, which is intended as a general introduction, I have to say something of two pro- minent persons whose character antecedent to the actions in which we are to find them engaged it is desirable that we shoidd understand ; I mean Henry VIII. himself, and the lady whom he had selected to fiU. the place from which Catherine of Arragon was to be deposed. If Henry VIII. had died previous to the first agita- tion of the divorce, his loss would have been deplored as one of the heaviest misfortunes which had ever befallen the coxmtry ; and he would have left a name which would 174 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. liaye taken its place in history by the side of that of the Black Prince or of the conqueror of Agincourt. Left at the most trying age, with his character imformed, with the means at his disposal of gratifying every inclination, and married by his ministers when a boy to an unattract- ive woman far his senior, he had lived for thirty-six years almost without blame, and bore through England the reputation of an upright and virtuous King. Nature had been prodigal to him of her rarest gifts. In person he is said to have resembled his grandfather, Edward IV., who was the handsomest man in Europe. His form and bearing were princely ; and amidst the easy freedom of his address, his manner remained majestic. No knight in England could match him in the tournament except the Duke of Suffolk : he drew with ease as strong a bow as was borne by any yeoman of his guard ; and these powers were sustained in unfailing vigour by a temper- ate habit and by constant exercise. Of his intellectual ability we are not left to judge from the suspicious pane- gyrics of his contemporaries. His state papers and let- ters may be placed by the side of those of Wolsey or of Cromwell, and they lose nothing in the comparison. Though they are broadly different, the perception is equally clear, the expression equally powerful, and they breathe throughout an irresistible vigour of purpose. In addition to this he had a fine musical taste, carefully cul- tivated ; he spoke and wrote in four languages ; and his Imowledge of a multitude of other subjects, with which his versatile ability made him conversant, would have formed the reputation of any ordinary man. He was I529-] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. I7S among tlie best physicians of his age ; he was his own engiaeer, inventing improvements in artillery, and new constructions in. ship-huilding ; and this not with the condescending incapacity of a royal amateur, hut with thorough workmanlike understanding. His reading was vast, especially in theology, which has been ridiculously ascribed by Lord Herbert to his father's intention of edn- cating him. for the Archbishopric of Canterbury ; as if the scientific mastery of such a subject could have been acquired by a boy of twelve years of age, for he was no more when he became Prince of Wales. He must have studied theology with the full maturity of his intellect ; and he had a fixed and perhaps unfortunate interest in the subject itself.^ ' All authorities agree in the early account of Henry, and his letters provide abundant proof that it is not exaggerated. The following description of him in the despatches of the Venetian ambassador shows the effect which he produced on strangers in 1515 : — 'Assuredly, most serene piince, from what we have seen of him, and iu conformity, moreover, with the report made to us by others, this most serene King is not only very ex- pert in arms and of great valour and mostexcellent in his personal endow- ments, but is likewise so gifted and adorned with mental accomplish- ments of every sort, that we believe him to have few equals in the world. He speaks English, French, Latin, understands Italian well ; plays al- most on every instrument ; sings and composes fairly ; is prudent, and sage, and free from every vice.' — Four Years at the Court of Henry VIIL vol. i. p. 76. Four years later, the same writer adds, — ' The King speaks good French, Latin, and Spanish; is very reli- gious ; hears three masses a day when he hunts, and sometimes five on other days ; he hears the ofBce every day in the Queen's chamber — that is to say, vespers and complins.' —Ibid. vol. ii. p. 312. William Thomas, who must have seen him, says, ' Of personage he was one of the goodliest men that lived in his time; being high of stature, in manner more than a man, and proportionable 176 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. lu all directions of human activity Henry displayed natural powers of the highest order, at the highest stretch of industrious culture. He was 'attentive,' as it is called, ' to his religious duties,' being present at the services in chapel two or three times a day with unfail- iag regularity, and showing to outward appearance a real sense of religious obligation in the energy and purity of his life. In private he was good-humoured and good- natured. His letters to his secretaries, though never undignified, are simple, easy, and unrestrained ; and the letters written by them to hiTn are similarly plain and businesslike, as if the writers knew that the person whom they were addressing disliked compliments, and chose to be treated as a man. Again, from their correspond- ence with one another, when they describe interviews with him, we gather the same pleasant impression. He seems to have been always kind, always considerate ; in- quiring into their private concerns with genuine interest, and winning, as a consequence, their warm and unaf- fected attachment. in all his memliers unto that height ; of countenance he was most ami- ahle ; courteous and benign in gesture unto all persons, and specially unto strangers; seldom or neyer offended with anything ; and of so constant a nature in himself that I believe few can say that ever he changed his cheer for any novelty how contrary or sudden so ever it were. Prudent he was in council and forecasting ; most liberal in rewarding his faithful servants, and even unto his enemies, as it behoveth a prince to be. He was learned in all sciences, and had the gift of many tongues. He was a perfect theologian, a good philoso- pher, and a strong man at arms, a jeweller, a perfect builder as well of fortresses as of pleasant palaces,, and from one to another there was no necessary kind of knowledge, from a king's degree to a carter's, but he had an honest sight in it.'— TAe Pilgrim, p. 78. IS29-] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 177 As a ruler lie had been eminently popular. AU his wars liad been successful. He had the splendid tastes in which the EngHsh people most delighted, and he had substantially-acted out his own theory of his duty which was expressed in the following words : — ' Scripture taketh princes to be, as it were, fathers " and nurses to their subjects, and by Scripture it appear- eth that it appertaineth unto the office of princes to see that right religion and true doctrine be maintained and taught, and that their subjects may be well ruled and governed by good and just laws ; and to provide and care for them that aU things necessary for them may be plenteous ; and that the people and commonweal may increase ; and to defend them from oppression and in- vasion, as well within the realm as without ; and to see that justice be administered unto them indifferently ; and to hear benignly all their complaints ; and to show towards them, although they offend, fatherly pity. And, finally, so to correct them that be evil, that they had yet rather save them than lose them if it were not for re- spect of justice, and maintenance of peace and good order in the commonweal.' ^ These principles do really appear to have determined Henry's conduct in his earlier years. Hie social ad- ministration we have partially seen in the previous chapter. He had more than once been tried with in- surrection, which he had soothed down without blood- ' Exposition of the Commandmepts, set forth by Eoyal authority, 1536. This treatise was drawn up by the bishops, and submitted to, and revised by, the King., VOL. I. 12 178 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [cil. 2. slied, and exting^shed in forgiveness ; and London long recollected the great scene whicli followed ' evil May- day,' 15 1 7, wlien tlie apprentices were brought down to Westminster Hall to receive their pardons. There had been a dangerous riot in the streets, which might have provoked a mild Government to severity ; hut the King contented himself with punishing the five ringleaders, and four hundred other prisoners, after being paraded down the streets in white shirts with halters round their necks, were dismissed with an admonition, Wolsey weep- ing as he pronounced it.^ It is certain that if, as I said, he had died before the divorce was mooted, Henry VIII., Hke that Roman Em- peror said by Tacitus to have been consensu omnium dignus imperii nisi imperasset, would have been con- sidered by posterity as formed by Providence for the conduct of the Reformation, and his loss would have been deplored as a perpetual calamity. We must allow him, therefore, the benefit of his past career, and be careful to remember it, when intejpreting his later actions. Not many men would have borne themselves through the same trials with the same integrity ; but the circumstances of those trials had not tested the true defects in his moral constitution. Like all princes of the Plantagenet blood, he was a person of a jnost intense and imperious will. His impulses, in general nobly directed, had never known contradiction ; and late in life, when his character was formed, he was forced into ' Sagudino's Summary. Four Tears at the Court of Henry VIII., vol. ii. p. 75. 1529.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 179 collision witli difficulties with, which, the experience of discipline had not fitted him. to contend. Education had done much for him, but his nature required more correction than his position had permitted, whilst un- broken prosperity and early independence of control had been his most serious misfortune. He had capacity, if his training had been equal to it, to be one of the greatest of men. With all his faults about him, he was still perhaps the greatest of his contemporaries; and the man best able of aU Hving Englishmen to govem England, had been set to do it by the conditions of his birth. The other person whose previous history we have to ascertain is one, the tragedy of whose fate has blotted the remembrance of her sins — if her sins were, indeed, and in reality, more than imaginary. Forgetting all else in sljiame and sorrow, posterity has made piteous repar- ation for her death in the tenderness with which it has touched her reputation ; and with the general instincts of justice, we have refused to qualify our indignation at the wrong which she experienced, by admitting either stain or shadow on her fame. It has been with Anne Boleyn as it has been with Catherine of Arragon — ^both are regarded as the victims of a tyranny which Catho- lics and Protestants unite to remember with horror ; and each has taken the place of a martyred saint in the hagi- ology of the respective creeds. Catholic writers have, indeed, ill repaid, in their treatment of Anne, the admir- ation with which the mother of Queen Mary has been remembered in the Church of England; but the in- rSo REIGN OF HENRV^ THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. vectives wMch they have heaped upon her have defeated their object by their extravagance. It has been believed that matter failed them to sustain a just accusation, when they condescended to outrageous slander. Inasmuch, however, as some natural explanation can usually be given of the actions of human beings in this world without supposing them to have been possessed by ex- traordinary wickedness, and if we are to hold Anne Boleyn entirely free from faidt, we place not the King only, but the privy council, the judges, the Lords and Commons, and the two Houses of Convocation, in a po- sition fatal to their honoiir and degrading to ordinary humanity ; we cannot without inquiry acqiuesce in so painful a conclusion. The English nation also, as well as she, deserves justice at our hands ; and it must not be thought uncharitable if we look with some scrutiny at the career of a person who, except for the catastrophe with which it was closed, would not so readily have ob- tained forgiveness for having admitted the addresses of the King, or for having received the homage of the Court as its future sovereign, while the King's wife, her mis- tress, as yet resided under the same roof, with the title and the position of Queen, and while the question was still undecided of the validity of the first marriage. If in that alone she was to blame, her fault was, indeed, revenged a thousandfold, — and yet no lady of true deli- cacy would have accepted such a position ; and feeling for Queen Catherine should have restrained her, if she was careless of respect for herself. It must, therefore, be permitted me, out of such few hints and scattered 1529.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY': i8i notices as remain, to collect such information as may be trusted respectiag her early life before her appearance upon the great stage. These hints are but slight, siace I shall not even mention the scandals of Sanders, any more than I shall mention the panegyrics of Foxe ; stories which, as far as I can learn, have no support in evidence, and rest on no stronger foundation than the credulity of passion. Anne Boleyn was the second daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, a gentleman of noble family, though moderate fortune ; ^ who, by a marriage with the daughter of the Duke of Norfolk, was brought into connection with the highest blood iu the realm. The year of her birth has not been certainly ascertaiaed, but she is supposed to have been seven years old^ in 15 14, when she accom- panied the Princess Mary into France, on the marriage of that lady with Louis XII. Louis dying a few months subsequently, the princess married Sir Charles Brandon, afterwards created Duke of Suffolk, and returned to England. Anne Boleyn did not return with her ; she remained ia Paris to become accomplished ia the graces and elegancies, if she was not contaminated by the vices, of that Court, which, even in those days of royal licen- tiousness, enjoyed an undesirable pre-eminence iu profli- gacy. In the French capital she could not have failed to see, to hear, and to become familiar with occurrences ■ ' The tmtli is, when I married my wife, I had hut fifty pounds to live on for me and my wife so long as my father lived, and yet she brought me forth every year a child.' — Earl of Wiltshire to Cromwell : Ellis, third series, vol. iii. pp. 22,-3. 2 BuKNET, vol. i. p, 69. l82 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [cH. 2. witli wticli no young girl can be brouglit in contact witli impunity, and this poisonous atmosphere she con- tinued to breathe for nine years. She came back to England in 1535, to be maid of honour to Queen Cathe- rine, and to be distinguished at the Court, by general consent, for her talents, her accomplishments, and her beauty. Her portraits, though all professedly by Holbein, or copied from pictures by him, are singularly unlike each other. The profile in the picture which is best known is pretty, innocent, and piquant, though rather insignificant : there are other pictures, however, in which we see a face more powerful, though less prepos- sessLQg. In these the features are full and languid. The eyes are large ; but the expression, though remarkable, is not pleasing, and indicates cimning more than thought, passion more than feeling; whUe the heavy lips and massive chin wear a look of sensuality which is not to be mistaken. Possibly all are lilie the original, but re- presented her under different circumstances, or at dif- ferent periods of her life. Previous to her engagement with the King, she was the object of fleeting attentions from the young noblemen about the Court. Lord Percy, eldest son of Lord Northumberland, as we all know, was said to have been engaged to her. He was in the house- hold of Cardinal Wolsey ; and Cavendish, who was with him there, teUs a long romantic story of the affair, which, if his account be true, was ultimately interrupted by Lord Northumberland himself. The story is not with- out its difliculties, since Lord Percy had been contracted, several years previously, to a daughter of the Earl of 1529.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 183 Shrewsbury,^ -whom lie afterwards married, and by the law he coTild not have formed a second engagement so long as the first was undissolved. And again, he him- self, when subsequently examined before the privy coun- cil, denied solemnly on his oath that any contract of the kind had existed.^ At the same time, we cannot sup* pose Cavendish to have invented so circumstantial a nar- rative, and Percy would not have been examined if there had been no reason for suspicion. Something, therefore, probably had passed between him. and the young maid of honour, though we cannot now conjecture of what nature ; and we can infer only that it was not openly to her discredit, or she would not have obtaiued the posi- tion which cost her so dear. She herself confessed sub- sequently, before Archbishop Cranmer, to a connection of some kind into which she had entered before her ac- quaintance with Henry. No evidence survives which will explain, to what she referred, for the Act of Parlia- ment which mentions the fact furnishes no details.' But it was of a kind which made her marriage with the King- illegal, and illegitimatized the offspring of it ; and it has been supposed, therefore, that, in spite of Lord Percy's denial, he had really engaged himself to her, and was afraid to acknowledge it.* This supposition, ' Thomas Allen to the Earl of Shrewshury : Lodge's Illustrations, vol. i. p. 20. ' Earl of Northumberland to Cromwell : printed by Lobd Hkb- BEET and by Burnet. , s 28 Hen. VIII. cap. 7. ' Since these words were writ- ten, I have discovered among the Archives of Simancas what may per- haps be some clue to the mj'stery, in an epitome of a letter written to Charles V. from London in Kay, 1536 :— i84 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. however, is not easy to reconcile witli the language of the Act, which speaks of the circumstance, whatever it was, as only ' recently known ; ' nor could a contract with Percy have invalidated her marriage with the Kiag, when Percy having been pre-contracted to another per- son, it would have been itself invalid. A light is thrown upon the subject by a letter found among Cromwell's papers, addressed by some unknown person to a Mr Melton, also ujiknown, but written obviously when ' Mistress Anne ' was a yoimg lady about the Court, and before she had been the object of any open attention from Henry. ' Mr Melton. — This shaU be to advertise you that Mistress Anne is changed from that she was at when we three were last together. Wherefore I pray you that ye be no devil's sakke, but according to the truth ever justify, as ye shall make answer before God ; and do not suffer her in my absence to be married to any other man. I must go to my master, wheresoever he be, for the Lord Privy Seal desireth much to speak with me, whom if I should speak with in my master's absence, ' His Majesty has letters from England of the 1 1 th of May, with certain news that the paramour of the King of England, who called herself Queen, has hcen thrown into the Tower of London for adultery. The partner of her guilt was an oi'ganist of the Privy Chamher, who is in the Tower as well. An officer of the King's wardrobe has been arrested also for the same offence with her, and one of her brothers for having been privy to her offences without revealing them. They say, too, that if the adultery had not been discovered, the King was' de- termined to put her away, having been informed by competent wit- nesses that she was married and had consummated her marriage nine years before, with the Earl of ITorth- umberland. ' 1529-] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 185 it would cause me to lose my head ; and yet I know my- self as true a m^an to my prince as livetli, wtom. (as my friend informeth me) I have offended grievously in my words, ^o more to you, but to liave me commended unto Mistress Anne, and bid ber remember ber promise, wbicb none can loose, but God only, to wbom I sball daily during my life commend ber.' ^ The letter must fiimisb its own interpretation ; for it receives little from any otber quarter. Being in tbe possession of Cromwell, bowever, it bad perbaps been forwarded to biTin at tbe time of Queen Anne's trial, and may bave tbus occasioned tbe investigation wbicb led to tbe anntdling of ber marriage. From tbe account wbicb was written of ber by tbe g^ndson of Sir Tbomas Wyatt tbe poet, we stOl gatber tbe impression (in spite of tbe admiring sympatby witb wbicb Wyatt writes) of a person witb wbom young men took liberties,^ bowever sbe migbt seem to forbid tbem. In ber diet sbe was an epicure, fond of dainty and deli- cate eating, and not always contented if sbe did not ob- tain wbat sbe desired. When tbe King's attentions towards ber became first marked, Tbomas Heneage, afterwards lord cbamberlain, wrote to Wolsey, tbat be bad one nigbt been ' commanded down witb a disb for Mistress Anne for supper ; ' adding tbat sbe caused bim ' to sup witb ber, and sbe wisbed sbe bad some of Wei- Bey's good meat, as carps, sbrimps, and otbers.'^ And ' Ellis, third series, vol. ii. p. 131. • 'Wyatt's Memorials, printed in Singer's Cavendish, p. 420. 5 Etjjs, third series, toI. ii. p. 132. iSS REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. this was not said in jest, since Heneage related it as a liint to Wolsey, that he might know what to do, if he wished to please her. In the same letter he suggested to the Cardinal that she Was a little displeased at not haying receiTed a token or present from him ; she was afraid she was forgotten, he said, and ' the lady, her mother, desired him to send unto his Grace, and desire his Grace to bestow a morsel of tunny upon her.' Wolsey made her presents also at times of a more valuable character, as we find her acknowledging in language of exagger- ated gratitude ;' and, perhaps, the most painful feature in all her earlier history lies in the contrast between the servility with which she addressed the Cardinal so long as he was in power, and the bitterness with which the Bishop of Bayonne (and, in fact, all contemporary witnesses) tells us, that she pressed upon his decline. Wolsey himself spoke of her under the title of 'the night-crow,'^ as the person to whom he owed all which was most cruel in his treatment ; as ' the enemy that never slept, but studied and continually imagined, both sleepiQg and waking, his utter destruction.'^ Taking these things together, and there is nothing ' Ellis, first series, toI. i. p. 135. 'My Lord, in my most humblest wise that my poor heart can think, I do thank your Grace for your kind letter, and for your rich and goodly present ; the which I shall never be able to deserve without your great help ; of the which I have hitherto had so great plenty, that all the days of my life I am most bound of all creatures, next to the King's Grace, to love and serve your Grace. Of the which I beseech you never to doubt that ever I shall vary from this thought as long as any breath is in my body.' '^ C.VVENDISH: Life of Wolset/, p. 316. Singer's edition. 5 Cavendish, pp. 364,-5. 1529.] THE FALL OF WOLSEY. 187 to be placed beside tbem of a definitely pleasing kind, except beauty and accomplisliments, we form, witli the assistance of ber pictures, a tolerable conception of tbis lady : a conception of ber as a woman not iadeed ques- tionable, but as one wbose antecedents migbt lead con- sistently to a future eitber of evil or of good ; and wbose cbaracter removes tbe surprise wbicb we migbt be in- cbned to feel at tbe position witb respect to Queen Catberine in wbicb sbe consented to be placed. A barsb critic would describe ber, on tbis evidence, as a self-in- dulgent coquette, iadifferent to tbe obligations of grati- tude, and sometbing careless of tbe trutb. From tbe letter referring to ber, preserved by Cromwell, it appears tbat sbe bad broken a definite promise at a time wben sucb promises were legally blading, and tbat sbe bad really done so was confirmed by ber subsequent confes- sion. Tbe breacb of sucb promises by a woman wbo could not be expected to understand tbe grounds on wbicb tbe law beld tbem to be sacred, impKes no more tban levity, and levity of tbis kind bas been found com- patible witb many bigb qualities. Levity, bowever, it does undoubtedly imply, and tbe symptom, if a ligbt one, must be allowed tbe weigbt wbicb is due to it. It is a miserable duty to be compelled to searcb for tbese indications of human infirmities ; above all wben they are tbe infirmities of a lady wbose faults, let tbem have been what they would, were so fearfullj'' and terri- bly expiated ; and, if there were nothing else at issue but poor questions of petty scandal, it were better far tbat they perished in forgetfulness, and passed away out i88 REIGN. OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 2. of mind and memory for ever. The fortunes of Anne Boleyn were uniappily linked with, those of men to whom the greatest work ever yet accomplished in this country was committed ; and the characters of a king of England, and of the three estates of the realm, are compromised in the treatment which she received from them. iSg CHAPTER III. THE PARLIAMENT OF 1 529. NO EnglisTiTnan can look back uninterested on tlie meeting of the Parliament of 1529. The era at which, it assembled is the most memorable in the history of this country, and the work which it accomplished before its dissolution was of larger moment politically and spiritually than the achievements of the Long Parliament itself. Eor nearly seven years it continued surrounded by intrigue, confusion, and at length con- spiracy, presiding over a people from whom the forms and habits by which they had moved for centuries were falKng like the shell of a chrysalis. While beset with enemies within the reahn and without, it effected a re- volution which severed England from the Papacy, yet it preserved peace unbroken and prevented anarchy from breaking bounds ; and although its hands are not pure from spot, and red stains rest on them which posterity have bitterly and long remembered ; yet if we consider the changes which it carried through, and if we think of the price which was paid by other nations for victory in the same struggle, we shall acknowledge that the records rgo REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [ch. 3. of tlie -world contain no instance of suet, a triumph, bought at a cost so slight and tarnished by blemishes so trifliag. The letters of the French ambassador^ describe to us the gatheriag of the members into London, and the hum of expectation sounding louder and louder as the day of the opening approached. In order that we may see distinctly what London felt on this occasion, that we may understand in detail the nature of those questions with which Parliament was immediately to deal, we will glance at some of the proceedings which had taken place in the Bishop's Consistory Courts during the few pre- ceding years. The duties of the officials of these courts resembled in theory the duties of the censors under the Roman Republic. In the middle ages, a lofty effort had been made to overpass the common limitations of govern- ment, to introduce punishment for sins as well as crimes, and to visit with temporal penalties the breach of the moral law. The punishment best adapted for such offences was some outward expression of the disapproval with which good men regard acts of sin ; some open dis- grace; some spiritual censure; some suspension of com- munion with the Church, accompanied by other conse- quences practically iaconvenient, to be continued until the offender had made reparation, or had openly repented, or had given confirmed proof of amendment. The admin- istration of such a discipline fell, as a matter of course, to the clergy. The clergy were the guardians of mo- ' Zettera of the Bishop of Bayonne, LESiiAKD, vol. iii. pp. 368, 378, &o. 1529.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 191 rality ; tteir characters were a claim to confidence, their duties gave them opportunities of obserTation which no other men cotdd possess ; while their priestly office gave solemn weight to their sentences. Thus arose through- out Europe a system of spiritual surTeillance over the habits and conduct of every man, extending from the cottage to the castle, taking note of aU wrong dealing, of all oppression of man by man, of all licentiousness and profligacy, and representiug upon earth, in the principles by which it was guided, the laws of the great tribunal of Almighty God. Such was the origin of the Church courts, perhaps the greatest institutions ever yet devised by man. But to aim at these high ideals is as perilous as it is noble ; and weapons which may be safely trusted in the hands of saints become fatal implements of mischief when saints have ceased to wield them. For a time, we need not doubt, the practice corresponded to the intention. Had it not been so, the conception would have taken no root, and would have been extinguished at its birth. But a system which has once established itself in the respect of mankind will be tolerated long after it has forfeited its claim to endurance, as the name of a great man remains honoured though borne by worthless de- scendants ; and the Consistory courts had continued into the sixteenth century with unrestricted jurisdiction, al- though they had been for generations merely perennially flowing foimtains, feeding the ecclesiastical exchequer. The moral conduct of every English man and woman remained subject to them. Each private person was 192 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. liable to be called in question for every action of bis life; and an elaborate network of canon law perpetually grow-- ing, enveloped tbe wbole surface of society. But between tbe original design and tbe degenerate counterfeit tbere was tbis vital difference, — tbat tbe censures were no longer spiritual. Tbey were commuted in various grada- tions for pecuniary fines, and eacb offence against moral- ity was rated at its specific money value in tbe episcopal tables. Suspension and excommunication remained as ultimate penalties ; but tbey were resorted to only to compel unwilliag culprits to accept tbe alternative. Tbe misdemeanours of wbicb tbe courts took cogniz- ance' were 'offences against cbastity,' 'beresy,' or 'mat- ter sounding tbereunto,' ' witcbcraft,' 'drunkenness,' • scandal/ ' defamation,' ' impatient words,' ' broken pro- raises,' ' untrutb,' ' absence from cburcb,' ' spealdng evil of saints,' ' non-payment of offeriags,' and otber delia- quencies incapable of legal definition; matters, aU of tbem, . on wbicb it was well, if possible, to keep men from going wrong ; but offering wide opportunities for injustice ; wbile all cbarges, wbetber well founded or Ul, met witb ready acceptance in courts wbere innocence and guilt alike contributed to tbe revenue.^ ' Mortuary claims ' were anotber fertile matter for prosecution ; and probate duties and legacy duties ; and a furtber lucrative occupation was tbe punisbment of persons wbo complaia- ed against tbe constitutions of tbe courts tbemselves ; to ' See Hale's Criminal Causes from the Secords of the Consistory Court of London. ' Petition of the Commons, infra, p. 208, &c. 1529] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 193 complain against the justice of tlie courts being to com- plain against the Church, and to complain against the Church being heresy. To answer accusations on such subjects as these, men were liable to be summoned, at the win of the officials, to the metropolitan courts of the archbishops, himdreds of miles from their homes.' No expenses were allowed ; and if the charges were without foundation, it was rare that costs could be re- covered. Innocent or guilty, the accused parties were equally bound to appear.' If they failed, they were suspended for contempt. If after receiving notice of their suspension, they did not appear, they were ex- communicated ; and no proof of the groundlessness of the original charge availed to relieve them from their sentence, till they had paid for their deliverance. "Well did the Church lawyers understand how to make their work productive. Excommunication seems but a light thing when there are many communions. It was no light thing when it was equivalent to outlawry ; when the person excommunicated might be seized and imprisoned at the will of the ordinary ; when he was cut off from all holy offices ; when no one niight speak to him, trade with him, or show him the most trivial courtesy ; and when his friends, if they dared to assist him, were subject to the same penalties. In the Register of the Bishop of London' there is more than one ia- 1 Eeply of the Ordinaries to the petition of the Commons, infta, p. 223, &c. 2 Petition of the Commons. 23 Hen. VIII. c. 9. ^ Hale's Criminal Causes, p. 4. VOL. I. 13 194 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH, [CH. 3. stance to be found of suspension and excommunication for the simple crime of ofi'ering shelter to an excom- miinicated neighbour; and thus offence begot offence, guilt spread like a contagion through the influence qf natural humanity, and a single refusal of obedience to a frivolous citation might involve entire families in misery and ruin. The people might have endured better to submit to so enormous a tyranny, if the conduct of the clergy themselves had given them a title to respect, or if equal justice had been distributed to lay and spiritual offend- ers. ' Benefit of clergy,' unhappily, as at this time in- terpreted, was little else than a privilege to commit sins with impunity. The grossest moral profligacy in a priest was passed over with indifference ; and so far from exacting obedience in her ministers to a higher standard than she required of ordinary persons, the Church ex- tended her limits under fictitious pretexts as a sanctuary for lettered villany. Every person who could read was claimed by prescriptive usage as a clerk, and shielded under her protecting mantle ; nor was any clerk amen- able for the worst crimes to the secular jurisdiction, imtil he had been first tried and degraded by the eccle- siastical judges. So far was this preposterous exemp- tion carried, that previous to the passing of the first of the 33rd of Henry the Eighth,^ those who were within the degrees might commit murder with impunity, the forms which it was necessary to observe in degrading a ' An Act that no person committing murder, felony, or treason should be admitted to his clergy under the degree of sub-deacon. IS29] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 195 priest or deacon being so complicated as to amount to absolute protection.^ Am.ong the clergy, properly so called, however, the prevailing offence was not crime, but licentiousness. A doubt has recently crept in among our historians as to the credibility of the extreme language in which the contemporary writers spoke upon this painful topic. It will scarcely be supposed that the picture has been over- drawn in the act books of the Consistory courts ; and as we see it there it is almost too deplorable for belief, as well in its own intrinsic hideousness as ia the un- conscious connivance of the authorities. Brothels were kept in London for the especial use of priests ; ^ the ' confessional ' was abused in the most open and abomin- ' In May, 1528, the evil had hecome so intolerable, that "Wolsey drew the Pope's attention to it. Priests, he said, both secular and regular, were in the habit of com- mitting atrocious crimes, for which, if not in orders, they would have been promptly executed ; and the laity were scandalized to see such persons not only not degraded, but escaping with complete impunity. Clement something altered the law of degradation in consequence of this representation, but quite inade- quately. — Hymek, vol. vi. part a, p. 96. 2 Thomas Cowper et ejus uxor Margarita pronubse horriblles, et instigant mulieres ad fornicandum cum qnibuscunque laicis, religiosis, fratribus minoribus, et nisi fomicant in domo sua ipsi diffamabunt nisi voluerint dare eis ad voluntatem eorum ; et vir est prouuba uxori, et vult relinquere eam apud fratres minores pro peccatis habendis. — Hale, Criminal Causes, p. 9. Joanna Cutting communis pro- nuba at praesertim inter presbyteros fratres monachos et canonicos et etiam inter Thomam Peise et quan- dam Agnetam, &c. — Hale, Criminal Causes, p. 28. See also Ibid. pp. 15, Z2, 23, 39. &«• In the first instance the parties accused ' made their purgation ' and were dismissed. The exquisite cor- ruption of the courts, instead of ia- viting evidence and sifting accusa- tions, allowed accused persons to support their own pleas of not guilty 196 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. aUe manner.^ Cases occurred of the same frightful pro- fanity in the service of the mass, which at Rome startled Luther into Protestantism ; ^ and acts of incest between nuns and monks were too frequently exposed to allow us to regard the detected instances as exceptions.' It may be said that the proceedings upon these charges by producing four witnesses, not to disprove the charges, but to swear that they believed the charges un- true. This was called ' purgation.' Clergy, it seems, were sometimes allowed to purge themselves simply on their own word. — Hale, p. 22 ; and see the Preamble of the ist of the 23rd of Henry VIII. ' Complaints of iniquities arising from confession were laid before Parliament as early as 1394. ' Auricularis confessio quae dici- tur tam necessaria ad salvationem hominis, cum fiotS, potestate abso- lutionis exaltat superbiam sacerdo- tum, et dat illis opportunitatem secretarum sermocinationum quas nos nolumus dicere, quia domini et dotninse attestantur quod pro timore confessorum suorum non audent dicere veritatem ; et in tempore confessionis est opportunum tempus procationis id est of wowing et a- liarum seoretarum conventionum ad peccata mortalia. Ipsi dicunt quod sunt commissarii Dei ad judicandum de omui peccato perdonandum et mundandum quemcunque eis placu- erint. Dicunt quod habent claves coeli ^t inferni et possunt excommu- nicare et benedioere Ugare et solvere in voluntatem corum ; in tantum quod pro bussello vel 12 denariis volunt vendere benedictionem coeli per chartam et clausulam de war- ranti^ sigillatS, sigillo communi. Ista conclusio sic est in usu quod non eget probatione aliqua.' — Ex- tract from a Petition presented to Parliament: 'WiLKiNS,vol.iii. p.22i. This remarkable paper ends with the following lines : — ' Plangunt Anglorum gentes cri- men Sodomorum Paulus fert horum sunt idola causa malorum Surgunt ingrati Giezitse Simone nati Nomine praslati hoc defensare parati Qui rages estis populis quicunque prajestis Qualiter his gestis gladios pro- hibere potestis.' See also Hale, p. 42, where an abominable instance is mentioned, and a still worse in the Suppression of the Monasteries, pp. 45 — 50. ' Hale, p. 12. ' Hale, pp. 75, 83 ; Suppression of the Monasteries, p. 47. IS29] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 197 prove at least that efforts were made to repress them. The bishops must have the benefit of the plea, and the two foUowing instances ■will show how far it wiU. avail their cause. In the Records of the London Court I find a certaiu Thomas Wyseman, priest, summoned for for- nication and incontinency. He was enjoined for pen- ance, that on the succeeding Sunday, while high mass was singing, he should offer at each of the altars ia the Church of St Bartholomew a candle of wax, value one penny, saying therewith five Paternosters, five Ave Marys, and five Credos. On the foUowiag Friday he was to offer a candle of the same price before the cruci- fix, standing barefooted, and one before the image of our Lady of Grace. This penance accomplished, he appeared agaia at the court and compounded for absolution, pay- ing six shillings and eightpence.' An exposure too common to attract notice, and a fine of six and eightpence, was held sufficient penalty for a mortal sin. Even this, however, was a severe sentence compared with the sentence passed upon another priest who con- fessed to incest with the prioress of Kilbourn. The offender was condemned to bear a cross in a procession in his parish church, and was excused his remaining guilt for three shillings and fourpence.^ I might multiply such instances indefinitely; but there is no occasion for me to stain my pages with them.' ' Suppression of the Monasteries, p. 80. " Hale, p. S3. ' I have been taunted 'with my inability to prodace more eviilence. For the present I will mention two 198 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. An inactive imagination may readily picture to itself the indignation likely to have been felt by a high- minded people, when they were forced to submit their lives, their habits, their most intimate conversations and opinions, to a censorship conducted by clergy of such a character ; when the offences of these clergy themselves ■were passed over with such indifferent carelessness. Men began to ask themselves who and what these per- sons were who retained the privileges of saints,^ and additional instances only, and per- haps I shall not be invited to swell the list further. 1. In the State Paper Office is a report to (h-omwell by Adam Bcken- shaw, one of his diocesan visitors, in which I find this passage : — ' There be knights and divers gentlemen in the diocese of Chester ■who do keep concubines and do yearly compound with the officials for a small sum without monition to leave their naughty living.' 2. In another report I find also the following : — ' The names of such persons as be permitted to live in adultery and fornication fur money : — ' The Vicar of Ledbury. The Vicar of llrasmyll. The Vicar of How. The Vicar of Cloune. The Parson of 'Wentnor. The Parson of Rjsbury. The Parson of Plowden. The Dean of Pountsbury. The Parson of Stratton. Sir Matthew of Montgomery. , priest. Sir of LauvangCi Sir John Brayle. Sir Morris of Clone. Sir Adam of Clone. Sir Pierce of Norbury^ Sir Gryffon ap Egmond, Sir John Orkelcy. Sir John of Mynton. Sir John Reynolds. Sir Morjis of Knighton, Hugh Davis. Cadwallader ap Gern. Edward ap i\Ieyrick, ■With many others of the diocese of Hereford.' The originals of both these documents are in the State Paper Office. There are copies in the Bodleian Library. — MS. Tanner, 105. ' Skelton gives us aspecimen of the popular criticisms : — ' Thus 1, Colin Clout, As I go about. And wondering as I walk, I hear the people talk : Men say for silver and gold Mitres are bought and sold : IS29] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 199 were incapatle of tlie most ordinary duties; and for many years before tlie burst of the Eeformation the coming storm was gathering. Priests were hooted, or ' knocked down into the kennel,' ^ as they walked along A straw for Goddys ciirse, What are they the worse ? 'What care the clergy though Gill sweat, Or Jack of the Noke ? The poor people they yoke With sumners and citacions, And excommunications. Ahout churches and markets The bishop on his carpets At home so It doth sit. This is a fearful fit, To hear the people jangle. How wearily they wrangle ! ' But Doctor HuUatua Parum litteratus, Dominus Doctoratus At the broad gate-house. Doctor Daupatus And bachelor iiacheleratus, Drunken as a mouse At the ale-huuse, Taketh his pillion and his cap At the good ale-tap, For lack of good wine. As wise as llubin Swine, Under a notary's sign, Was made a divine ; As wise as Waltham's calf, Must preach in Goddys half ; In the pulpit solemnly ; More meet in a pillory ; For by St Hilary He can nothing smatter Of logic nor school matter. ' Such temporal war and bate As now is made of late Against holy church estate, Or to maintain good quarrels ; The laymen call them barrels Full of gluttony and of hypo- crisy. That counterfeits and paints As they were very saints. ' By sweet St Marke, '1 his is a wondrous warke, That the people talk this. Somewhat tliere is amiss. The devil cannot stop their mouths, But they will talk of such un- couths All that ever they ken Against spiritual meu.' I am unable to quote more than a few lines from Boy's Satire. At the close of a lo ig paragraph of de- tails an advocate of the clergy ventures to say that the bad among them are a minority. His friend answers : — 'Make the company great or small, Among a thousand find thou shall Scant one chaste of body or mind.' Answer of the Bishops to the Commons' Petition: Soils Souse MS. REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. the streets — women refused to receive the holy bread frora hands which they thovight polluted, ^ and the ap- pearance of an apparitor of the courts to serve a process or a citation in a private house was a signal for instant explosion. Yiolent words were the least which these oiEcials had to fear, and they were fortunate if they escaped so lightly. A stranger had died in a house in St Dunstan's belonging to a certain John Fleming, and an apparitor had been sent ' to seal his chamber and his goods,' that the Church might not lose her dues. John Fleming drove hini out, saying loudly unto him, ' Thou shalt seale no door here ; go thy way, thou stynkyng knave, ye are but knaves and brybours everych one of you.' ^ Thomas Banister, of St Mary "Wolechurch, when a process was served upon him, ' did threaten to slay the apparitor.' ' Thou horson knave,' he said to him, ' without thou tell me who set thee awork to summon me to the court, by Goddis woundes, and by this gold, I shall brake thy head.' ^ A ' waiter, at the sign of the Cock,' fell in trouble for saying that 'the sight of a priest did make him. sick,' also, ' that he would go sixty miles to indict a priest,' saying also in the presence of many — ' horsyn priests, they shall be indicted as many as come to my handling.'* Often the officers found threats convert themselves into acts. The apparitor of the Bishop of London went with a citation into the shop ' Joanna Leman notatur officio quod non vcnit ad eoclesiara paro- chialem; et dicit se nolle aooipere panem benedictum a manibus rec- toris ; et vocavit enm preste.' — Hai.e, p. 99. 'horsyn " Hale, p. 63. 3 Ibid. p. 98. ' Ibid. p. 38. 1529] THE PARLIAMENT OF 152^. 2of of a mercer of St Bride's, Henry Clitheroe by name. ' Who does cite me ? ' asked the mercer. ' Marry, that do I,' answered the apparitor, ' if thou wilt anything with it ; ' whereupon, as the apparitor deposeth, the said Henry Clitheroe did hiirl at him from off his finger that instrument of his art called the ' thymmelle,' and he, the apparitor, drawing his sword, ' the said Henry did snatch up his virga, AngHce, his yard, and did pursue the apparitor into the public streets, and after multiply- ing of many blows did break the head of the said ap- paritor.' ^ These are light matters, but they were straws upon the stream ; and such a scene as this which follows reveals the principles on which the courts awarded their judgment. One Richard Hunt was summoned for cer- tain articles implying contempt, and for vilipending his lordship's jurisdiction. Being examined, he confessed to the words following : ' That all false matters were bolstered and clokyd in this court of Paul's Cheyne ; moreover he called the apparitor, "Wilham Middleton, false knave in the fuU court, and his father's dettes, said he, by means of his mother-in-law and master commis- sary, were not payd ; and this he would abide by, that he had now in this place said no more but truth.' Being called on to answer further, he said he would not, and his lordship did therefore excommunicate him.^ From 80 brief an entry we cannot tell on which side the justice lay ; but at least we can measure the equity of a tribunal which punished complaints against itself with excom- 1 HAtE, p. 67. ^ Iliid. p. 100. 202 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. muni cation, and dismissed the confessed incest of a priest with a fine of a few shillings. Such then were the English Consistory courts. I have selected but a few instances from the proceedings of a single one of them. If we are to Tinderstand the weight with which the system pressed upon the people, we must multiply the proceedings at St Paul's by the number of the English dioceses ; the nmnber of dioceses by the ntunber of archdeaconries ; we must remember- that in proportion to the distance from London the abuse must have increased indefinitely from the absence of even partial surveillance ; we must remember that appeals were permitted only from one ecclesiastical court to another ; from the archdeacon's court to that of the bishop of the diocese, from that of the bishop to the Court of Arches ; that any language of impatience or re- sistance furnished suspicion of heresy, and that the only security therefore was submission. We can then ima~ gine what England must , have been with an arch- deacon's commissary sitting constantly in every town ; exercising an undefined jurisdiction over general moral- ity ; and every court swarming with petty lawyers who lived upon the fees which they could extract. Such a system for the admiuistration of justice was perhaps never tolerated before in any coimtry. But the time of reckoning at length was arrived ; slowly the hand had crawled along the dial plate ; slowly as if the event would never come : and wrong was heaped, on wrong ; and oppression cried, and it seemed as if no ear had heard its voice ; till the measure of the circle was 1529] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 203 at length, fulfilled, the finger touched the hour, and as the strokes of the great hammer rang out above the nation, in an instant the mighty fabric of iniquity was shivered iuto ruins. Wolsey had dreamed that it might still stand, self- reformed as he hoped to see it ; but iu his dread lest any hands but those of friends should touch the work, he had ' prolonged its sickly days,' w^ting for the convenient season which was not to be ; he had put off the meetiag of Parliament, knowing that if Parliament were once assembled, he would be unable to resist the pressure which wovild be brought to bear \i,pon him ; and in the impatient minds of the people he had identified himself w-ith the evils which he alone for the few last years had hindered from falling. At length he had fallen himself, and his disgrace was celebrated iu London with enthusiastic rejoicing as the inauguration of the new era. On the eighteenth of October, 1539, „ , ° J October 18. Wolsey delivered up the seals. He was ordered to retire to Esher ; and, ' at the takiag of his barge, "^ Cavendish saw no. less than a thousand boats full of men and women of the city of London, ' wafieting up and down in Thames,' to see him sent, as they expected, to the Tower.^ A fortnight later the same crowd was per- haps agaiu assembled on a wiser occasion, and with truer reason for exultation, to see the King coming up in his barge from Greenwich to open Parliament. ' According to the summons,' says Hall, ^"o^- 3- 'the Kiug of England began his high Court of Parliament ' Cavendish, life of Wolsey, p. 251. 204 REJG.V OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. the third day of November, on which day he came by water to his palace of Bridewell, and there he and his nobles put on their robes of Parliament, and so came to the Black Friar Church, where a mass of the Holy Ghost was solemnly sung by the King's chaplain ; and after the mass, the Kiag, with aU his Lords and Commons which were summ^oned to appear on that day, came into the Parliament. The Kiag sate on his throne or seat royal, and Sir Thomas More, his chancellor, standing on the right hand of the King, made an eloquent oration, set- ting forth the causes why at that time the Kiag so had summoned them.' '^ ' Like as a good shepherd,' More said, ' which not only keepeth and attendeth well his sheep, but also foreseeth and provideth for aU things which either may be hurt- ful or noysome to his flock ; so the King, which is the shepherd, ruler, and governor of his realm, vigilantly foreseeing things to come, considers how that divers laws, before this time made, are now, by long continuance of time and mutation of things, become very insufficient and imperfect ; and also, by the frail condition of man, divers new enormities are sprung amongst the people, for the which no law is yet made to reform the same. For this cause the King at this time has summoned his high Court of Parliament ; and I liken the Kiag to a shepherd or herdsman, because if a prince be compared to his riches, he is but a rich man ; if a prince be compared to his hon- our, he is but an honourable man ; but compare him to Hall, p. 764. 1529.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 205 the multitude of his people, and the number of his flock, then he is a ruler, a governor of might and puissance ; so that his people maketh him a prince, as of the multitude of sheep cometh the name of a shepherd. ' And as you see that amongst a great flock of sheep some be rotten and faulty, which the good shepherd send- eth from the good sheep ; so the great wether which is of late fallen, as you all know, so craftily, so scabedly, yea, so untruly juggled with the King, that all men must needs guess that he thought in himself, either the King had no wit to perceive his crafty doings, or else that he would not see nor know them.. ' But he was deceived, for his , Grace's sight was so quick and penetrable that he saw him; yea, and saw through him, both within and without ; and according to his desert he hath had a gentle correction, which small punishment the King wiU not to be an example to other ofienders; but clearly declareth that whosoever hereafter shall make like attempt, or shall commit like offence, shall not escape with like punishment. ' And because you of the Commons House be a gross multitude, and cannot all speak at one time, the King's pleasure is, that you resort to the Nether House, and then amongst yourselves, according to the old and an- tient custom, choose an able person to be your coimnon mouth and speaker.' ' The invective against ' the great wether ' was not perhaps the portion of the speech to which the audience 1 Hall, p. 764. 2o6 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. listened with least interest. In the minds of contem- poraries, principles are identified with persons, who fonn, as it were, the focus on which the passions concentrate. At present we may consent to forget "VVolsey, and fix, our attention on the more permanently essential matter — the reform of the laws. The world was changing; how swiftly, how completely, no living person knew ; — but a confusion no longer tolerable was a patent fact to all men ; and with a wise instinct it was resolved that the grievances of the nation, which had accumulated through centuries, should be submitted to a complete ventilation, without reserve, check, or secrecy. For this purpose it was essential that the Houses should not be interfered with, that they shoidd be allowed full liberty to express their wishes and to act upon them. Accordingly, the practice then usual with ministers, of undertaking the direction of the proceed- ings, was clearly on this occasion foregone. In the House of Commons then, as much as now, there was in theory unrestricted liberty of discussion, and free right for any member to originate whatever motion he pleased. ^The discussions in the English Parliament,' wrote Henry himself to the Pope, ' are free and unrestricted ; the Crown has no power to limit their debates or to con- troul the votes of the members. They determine everv- thing for themselves, as the interests of the common- wealth require.' ^ But so long as confidence existed between the Crown and the people, these rights were in ^ State Papers, vol. yu. p. 361. IS29-] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 207 great measure surrendered. The ministers prepared the business which was to be transacted ; and the temper of the Houses was usually so well understood, that, except when there was a demand for money, it was rare that a measure was proposed the acceptance of which was doubtful, or the nature of which would provoke debate. So little jealousy, indeed, was in quiet times entertained of the power of the Crown, and so little was a residence in London to the taste of the burgesses and the country gentlemen, that not only were their expenses defrayed by a considerable salary, but it was found necessary to forbid them absenting themselves from their duties by a positive enactment, "^ In the composition of the House of Commons, how- ever, which had now assembled, no symptoms appeared of such indifference. The election had taken place in the midst of great and general excitement; and the members chosen, if we may judge from their acts and their petitions, were men of that broad resolved temper, who only ia times of popular effervescence are called forward into prominence. It would have probably been unsafe for the Crown to attempt dictation or repression at such a time, if it had desired to do so. Under the actual circumstances, its iaterest was to encourage the fullest expression of public feeling. The proceedings were commenced with a formal ' act of accusation ' against the clergy, which was sub- mitted to the King ia the name of the Commons of Eng- 1 6 Hen. VIII. cap. 16. 3o8 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3i land, and contained a summary of the wrongs of whicli tHe people complained. This remarkable document must have been drawn up before the opening of Parlia-< ment, and must have been presented in the first week of the session, — probably on the first day on which the House met to transact business.^ There is appearance of haste in the composition, little order being observed in the catalogue of grievances ; but inasmuch as it con- tains the germ of all the Acts which were framed in the following years for the reform of the Church, and is in fact the most complete exhibition which we possess of the working of the Church system at the time when it ceased to be any more tolerable, I have thought it well to insert it uncurtailed. Although the fact of the pre- sentation of this petition has been well known, it has not been accurately described by any of our historians, none of them appearing to have seen more than incorrect and imperfect epitomes of it.^ Not. 3. 'to the king our sovereign lord. In most humble wise show unto your Highness and your most prudent wisdom your faithful, loving, and most obedient servants the Commons in this your present Parliament assembled ; that of late, as well through new fantastical and erroneous opinions grown ' The session lasted six weeks only, and several of the subjects of the petition were disposed of in the course of it, as we shall see. ' The MS. from which I have transcribed this copy is itself imper- fect, as will be seen in the .' reply of the bishops,' which supplies several omitted articles. See p. 226 et seq. It is in the Eolls House. 1529.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 209 by occasion of frantic seditious tooks compUed, im- printed, published, and made in the EngKsh tongue, contrary and against the very true Catholic and Christian faith ; as also by the extreme and uncharitable behaviour and dealing of divers ordinaries, their commissaries and sumners, which have heretofore had, and yet have the examination in and upon the said errours and heretical opinions ; much discord, variance, and debate hath risen, and more and more daily is like to increase and ensue amongst the universal sort of your said subjects, as well spiritual as temporal, each against the other — in most uncharitable manner, to the great inquietation, vexation, and breach of your peace within this your most Catholic Eeahn: The special particular griefs whereof, which most principally concern your Commons and lay subjects, and which are, as they undoubtedly suppose, the very chief foimtains, occasions, and causes that daily breedeth and nourisheth the said seditious factions, deadly hatred, and most uncharitable part taking, of either part of said subjects spiritual and temporal against the other, foUow- ingly do ensue. — I. First the prelates and spiritual ordinaries of this your most excellent Realm of England, and the clergy of the same, have in their convocations heretofore made or caused to be made, and also daily do make many and divers fashions of laws, constitutions, and ordi- nances ; without your knowledge or most Eoyal assent, and without the assent and consent of any of your lay subjects ; imto the which laws your said lay subjects VOL. I. 14 210 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. have not only heretofore been and daily be constrained to obey, in their bodies, goods, and possessions; but have also been compelled to incur daily into the censures of the same, and been continually put to importable charges and expenses, against all equity, right, and good conscience. And yet your said hu\nble subjects ne their predecessors could ever be privy to the said laws ; ne any of the said laws have been declared unto them ia the English tongue, or otherwise published, by know- ledge whereof they might have eschewed the penalties, dangers, or censures of the same ; which laws so made your said most humble and obedient servants, under the supportation of your Majesty, suppose to be not only to the diminution and derogation of your imperial jurisdic- tion and prerogative royal, but also to the great preju- dice, inquietation, and damage of your said subjects. II. Also now of late there hath been devised by the Most Reverend Father in Grod, William, Archbishop of Canterbury, that in the courts which he calleth his Courts of the Arches and Audience, shall only be ten proctors at his deputation, which be sworn to preserve and promote the only jurisdiction of his said courts ; by reason whereof, if any of your lay subjects should have any lawful cause against the judges of the said courts, or any doctors or proctors of the same, or any of their friends and adherents, they can ne may in nowise have indifferent counsel : and also all the causes depending in any of the said courts may by the confederacy of the said few proctors be in such wise tracted and delayed, as your subjects suing in the same shall be put to import- 1529] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 211 able charges, costs, and expense. And furtlier, in case that any matter there being preferred should touch your crown, your regal jurisdiction, and prerogative Royal, yet the same shall not be disclosed by any of the said proctors for fear of the loss of their offices. Your most obedient subjects do therefore, under protection of your Majesty, suppose that your Highness should have the nomination of some convenient number of proctors to be always attendant upon the said Courts of Arches and Audience, there to be sworn to the preferment of your jurisdiction and prerogative, and to the expedition of the causes of your lay subjects repairing and suing to the same. III. And also many of your said most hvimble and obedient subjects, and specially those that he of the poorest sort, within this your Realm, be daily convented and called before the said spiritual ordinaries, their com- missaries and substitutes, ex officio; sometimes, at the pleasure of the said ordinaries, for malice without any cause ; and sometimes at the only promotion and accuse- ment of their summoners and apparitors, being light and undiscreet persons ; without any lawful cause of accusation, or credible fame proved against them, and without any presentment in the visitation : and your said poor subjects be thus inquieted, disturbed, vexed, troubled, and put to excessive and importable charges for them to bear — and many times be suspended and ex- communicate for small and light causes upon the only certificate of the proctors of the adversaries, made under a feigned seal which every proctor hath in his keeping ; 212 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. ■vrliereas the party suspended or excommunicate many times never had any warning ; and yet when he shall be absolved, if it be out of court, he shall be compelled to pay to his own proctor twenty^ j)e»cey to the proctor which is agaiQst him other twenty pence, and twenty pence to the scribe, besides a privy reward that the judge shall have, to the great impoverishing of your said poor lay subjects. IV. Also your said most humble and obedient serv- ants find themselves grieved with the great and excess- ive fees taken ia the said spiritual courts, and especially in the said Courts of the Arches and Audience ; where they take for every citation two shillings and sixpence ; for every inhibition sis shiUings and eightpence; for every proxy sixteen pence ; for every certificate sixteen pence ; for every libel three shillings and fourpence ; for every answer for every Hbel three shiUings and fourpence ; for every act, if it be but two words accord- ing to the register, fourpence ; for every personal cita- tion or decree three shillings and fourpence ; for every sentence or judgment, to the judge twenty-six shillings and eightpence ; for every testament upon such sentence or judgment twenty-six shOlings and eightpence; for every significavit twelve shillings ; for every commission to examine witnesses twelve shillings, which charges be thought importable to be borne by your said subjects, and very necessary to be reformed. V. And also the said prelates and ordinaries daily do ' The penny, as I have shown, equalled, in terms of a poor man's necessities, a shilling. See chap. i. 'S29-] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. permit and suffer the parsons, vicars, curates, parish priests, and other spiritual persons having cure of souls •nithin this your Eeahn, to exact and take of j'our humble servants divers sums of money for the sacra- ments and sacramentals of Holy Church, sometimes de- nying the same without they be first paid^ the said sums of money, which sacraments and sacramentals your said most humble and obedient subjects, under protec- tion of your Highness, do suppose and think ought to be in most reverend, charitable, and godly wise freely ministered unto them at all times requisite, without de- nial, or exaction of any manner sums of money to be demanded or asked for the same. VI. And also in the spiritual courts of the said pre- lates and ordinaries there be limited and appointed so many judges, scribes, apparitors, summoners, appraysers, and other ministers for the approbation of Testaments, which covet so much their own private lucres, and the satisfection and appetites of the said prelates and ordin- aries, that when any of your said loving subjects do repair to any of the said courts for the probate of any Testaments, they do in such wise make so long delays, or excessively do take of them so large fees and rewards for the same as is importable for them to bear, directly against all justice, law, equity, and good conscience. ' See instances in Hale : p. 62, Omnium Sanciarum in muro.- — M. Golielmus Edward curatus notator officio quod recusat ministrare sacra- menta ecclesiastica segrotantibns nisi prius habitis peconiis pro suo la- bore : p. 64, St Mary Magdalen. — Curatus notatur officio propter quod recusavit solemnizare matrimonium qnousque habet pro hujusmodi so- lemnizatione, 3«. %d. ; and see pp. 52. 75- 214 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. Therefore your most humble and obedient subjects do, under your gracious correction and supportation, sup- pose it were very necessary tbat tlie said ordinaries in their deputation of judges should be bound to appoiut and assign such discreet, gracious, and honest persons, having sufficient learning, wit, discretion, and under- standing ; and also being endowed with such spiritual promotion, stipend, and salary ; as they being judges in their said courts might and may minister to every per- son repairing to the same, justice — ^without taking any manner of fee or reward for any m^anner of sentence or judgment to be given before them. VII. And also divers spiritual persons being pre- sented as well by your Highness as others within this yoTir Realm to divers benefices or other spiritual pro- motions, the said ordinaries and their ministers do not only take of them for their letters of institution and in- duction many large sums of money and rewards ; but also do pact and covenant with the same, taking sure bonds for their iudemnity to answer to the said ordin- aries, for the firstfruits of their said benefices after their institution — so as they, being once presented or pro- moted, as aforesaid, are by the said ordinaries very im- charitably handled, to their no little hindrance and im- poverishment ; which your said subjects suppose not only to be against aU laws, right, and good conscience, but also to be simony, and contrary to the laws of God. VIII. And also the said spiritual ordinaries do daily confer and give sundry benefices unto certain young folks, calling them their nephews or kinsfolk, being in their 1529.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 215 minority and witMn age, not apt ne able to serve the cure of any such benefice : whereby the said ordinaries do keep and detain the fruits and profits of the same benefices in their own hands, and thereby accumulate to themselves right great and large sums of money and yearly profits, to the most pernicious example of your said lay subjects — and so the cures and promotions given unto such infants be only employed to the enriching of the said ordinaries ; and the poor silly souls of your people, which should be taught in the parishes given as aforesaid, for lack of good curates [be left] to perish without doctrine or any good teaching. IX. Also, a great number of holydays now at this present time, with very small devotion, be solemnized and kept throughout this your Eeahn, upon the which many great, abominable, and execrable vices, idle and wanton sports, be used and exercised, which holydays, if it nay stand with yoiir Grace's pleasure, and specially such as fall in the harvest, might, by your Majesty, with the advice of your most honourable council, pre- lates, arid ordinaries, be made fewer in number ; and those that shall be hereafter ordaiaed to stand and con- tinue, might and may be the more devoutly, religiously, and reverendly observed, to the laud of Almighty God, and to the iacrease of your high honour and favour. X. And furthermore the said spiritual ordinaries, theii? commissaries and substitutes, sometimes for their own pleasure, sometimes by the sinister procurement of other spiritual persons, use to make out process against divers of your said subjects, and thereby compel them 2i6 REIGN OF HFiNRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. to appear before themselves, to answer at a certain day and place to such articles as hy them shall be, ex officio, then proposed ; and that secretly and not in open places ; ^ arid forthwith upon their appearance, without any de- claration made or showed, commit and send them to' ward, sometimes for [half] a year, sometimes for a whole year or more, before they may in. anywise knoY either the cause of their imprisonment or the name of their accuser ;^ and finally after their great costs aid charges therein, when all is examined and nothing can be proved against them, but they clearly innocent fqi" any fault or crime that can be laid imto them, they l)e again set at large without any recompence or amends in. that behalf to be towards them adjudged. XI. And also if percase upon the said process ^nd appearance any party be upon the said matter, cause, or examination, brought forth and named, either as wrty or witness, and then upon the proof and trial ther^f be not able to prove and verify the said accusation and tes- timony against the party accused, then the person so accused is for the more part without any remedy for his charges and wrongful vexation to be towards him. ad- judged and recovered. XII. Also upon the examination of the said accusa- ^ I give many instances of this practice in my sixth chapter. It was a direct breach of the statute of Henry IV., 'which insists on all ex- aminations for heresy being con- ducted in open court. ' The dioces- an and his commissaries,' says that Act, 'shall openly and judicially proceed against persons arrestet.' — 2 Hen. IV. c. 15. ^ Again breaking the statue of Hen. IV., whicb limited the pffiod of imprisonment previous to piblio trial to three months. — 2 Hen J IV. c. 15. 1529.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 217 tion, if heresy be ordinarily laid unto the charge of the parties so accused, then the said ordinaries or their ministers used to put to them such subtle interrogato- ries, concerning the high mysteries of our faith, as are able quickly to trap a simple unlearned, or yet a weU- witted layman without learning, and bring them by such sinister introductions soon to their own confusion. And further, if there chance any heresy to be by such subtle policy, by any person confessed in words, and yet never committed neither in thought nor deed, then put they, without further favour, the said person either to make his purgation, and so thereby to lose his honesty and credence for ever ; or else as some simple silly soul [may do], the said person may stand precisely to the testimony of his own well-known conscience, rather than confess his innocent truth in that behalf [to be other than he knows it to be], and so be utterly destroyed. And if it fortune the said party so accused to deny the said accusation, and to put his adversaries to prove the same as being untrue, forged and imagined against him, then for the most part such witnesses as are brought forth for the salne, be they but two in rnunber, never so sore diffamed, of little truth or credence, they shall be allowed and enabled, only by discretion of the said ordin- aries, their commissaries or substitutes ; and thereupon sufficient cause be found to proceed to judgment, to de- liver the party so accused either to secular hands after abjuration,^ without remedy ; or afore if he submit him- • To be disposed of at Smithfield. Abjuration was allowed once. For a second offence there was no forgiveness. 2i8 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. self, as best happeneth., he stall have to make his purga- tion and bear a faggot, to his extreme shame and undoing. In consideration of all these things, most gracious Sovereign Lord, and forasmuch as there is at this pre- sent time, and by a few years past hath been outrageous violence on the one part and much default and lack of patient sufferance, charity, and good will on the other part ; and consequently a marvellous disorder [hath en- sued] of the godly quiet, peace, and tranquillity in which this your Eeahn heretofore, ever hitherto, has been through your politic wisdom, most honourable fame, and catholic faith inviolably preserved ; it may there- fore, most benign Sovereign Lord, like your excellent goodness for the tender and universally indifferent zeal, benign love and favour which your Highness beareth towards both the said parties, that the said articles (if they shall be by your most clear and perfect judgment, thought any instrument of the said disorders and fac- tions), being deeply and weightily, after your accustomed ways and manner, searched and considered ; graciously to provide (aU. violence on both sides utterly and clearly set apart) some such necessary and behovefiil remedies as may effectually reconcile and bring in perpetual unity, your said subjects, spiritual and temporal ; and for the establishment thereof, to make and ordain on both sides such strait laws agaiast transgressors and offenders as shall be too heavy, dangerous, and weighty for them, or any of them, to bear, suffer, and sustaia. Whereunto your said Commons most humbly and entirely beseech your Grace, as the only Head, Sove- 1529.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 219 reign Lord and Protector of both tlie said parties, in whom and by -whom, the only and sole redress, reform- ation, and remedy herein absolutely resteth [of your goodness to consent]. By occasion whereof all your Commons in their conscience surely account that, beside the marvellous fervent love that your Highness shall thereby engender in their hearts towards your Grace, ye shall do the most princely feat, and show the most honourable and charitable precedent and mirrour that ever did sovereign lord upon his subjects ; and there- withal merit and deserve of our merciful God eternal bliss — ^whose goodness grant your Grace ia goodly, princely, and honourable estate long to reign, prosper, and continue as the Sovereign Lord over all your said most humble and obedient servants/^ But little comment need be added in explanation of this petition, which, though drawn with evident haste, is no less remarkable for temper and good feeling, than for the masterly clearness with which the evils com- plained of are laid bare. Historians wiU be careful for the future how they swell the charges against Wolsey with quoting the lamentations of Archbishop "Warham, when his Court of Arches was for a while superseded by the Legate's Court, and causes lingering before his commissaries were summarily despatched at a higher tribimal.^ The Archbishop professed, indeed, that he derived no personal advantage from his courts, ' and as ' Petition of the Commons : eloquent in his outcries upon this SMls Souse MS, subject. ' See Stbype, EceUs. Memori- ^ Answer of the Bishops, p 223, ala, vol, i. p. 191-2, -who is -very &c. REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. we have only the popular impression to the contrary to set against his 'word, we must believe him ; yet it was of small moment to the laity who were pillaged, whether the spoils taken from them filled the coffers of the master, or those of his followers and friends. When we consider, also, the significant allusion ^ to the yoimg folks whom the bishops called their nephews, we cease, to wonder at their lenient dealing with the poor priests who had sunk under the temptations of frail humanity ; and stUl less can we wonder at the rough handling which was soon found necessary to bring back these high dignitaries to a better mind. The House of Commons, in casting their grievances into the form of a petition, showed that they had no desire to thrust forward of themselves violent measures of reform; they sought rather to explain firmly and decisively what the coimtry required. /The Kiag, select- ing out of the many points noticed those which seemed most immediately pressing, referred them, back to the Parliament, with a direction to draw up such enactments as ia their own judgment would furnish effective relief In the mean time he submitted the petition itself to the consideration of the bishops, requiring their immediate answer to the charges against them, and accompanied this request with a further important requisition. The ' Explanations are not easy ; but the foUowmg passage may sug- gest the meaning of the House of Commons : — 'The holy Father Prior of Maiden Cradley hath hut six children, and but one daughter mar- ried yet of the goods of the monas- tery ; trusting shortly to marry the rest.' — Dr Leyton to Cromwell: Sttppression of the Monaiteriei, p. 58. 1529.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 221 legislative authority of Convocation lay at tlie root of the evils which were most complained of. The bishops and clergy held themselves independent of either Crown or Parliament, passing canons by their own irresponsible and unchecked will, irrespective of the laws of the land, and sometimes in direct violation of them ; and to these canons the laity were amenable without being made ac- quainted with their provisions, learning them only in the iafliction of penalties for their unintended breach. The King required that thenceforward the Convocation should consent to place itself in the position of Parliament, and that his own consent should be required and received before any law passed by Convocation should have the force of statute.* Little notion, indeed, could the bishops have pos- sessed of the position in which they were standing. It seemed as if they literally believed that the promise of perpetuity which Christ had made to his Church was a charm which would hold them free in the quiet course of their injustice ; or else, under the blinding influence of custom, they did not really know that any injustice adhered to them. They could see in themselves only the ideal virtues of their saintly oJBB.ce, and not the vices of their fragile humanity ; they believed that they were stni holy, still spotless, stiU immacidate, and therefore that no danger might come near them. It cannot have been but that, before the minds of such men as Warham and Fisher, some visions of a future must at times have Eeply of the Bishops, infra. 222 REZGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. floated, which hung so plainly before the eyes of Wol- sey and of Sir Thomas More.^ They could not have been wholly deaf to the storm in Germany ; and they must have heard something of the growls of smothered anger which for years had been audible at home, to all who had ears to hear.^ Yet if any such thoughts at times did cross their imagination, they were thrust aside as an uneasy dream, to be shaken off like a nightmare, or with the coward's consolation, ' It will last my time.' If the bishops ever felt an uneasy moment, there is no trace of uneasiness in the answer which they sent in to. the King, and which now, when we read it with the light which is thrown back out of the succeeding years, seems like the composition of mere lunacy. Perhaps they had confidence in the support of Henry. In their courts they were in the habit of identifying an attack upon themselves with an attack upon the doctrines of the Church ; and reading the King's feelings in their own, they may have considered themselves safe under the protection of a sovereign who had broken a lance with Luther, and had called himself the Pope's champion. Perhaps they thought that they had bound him to them- selves by a declaration which they had all signed in the preceding summer in favour of the divorce.^ Perhaps they were but steeped in the dulness of official lethargy. The defence is long, wearying the patience to read it ; ' Cavendish, Life of Wohey, p. 390. Moke's Life of More, p. 109. 2 Populus diu oblatrans. Pox to Wolsey. Stbype, Lcel. Mem., vol. i. Appendix, p. 27. 2 Rymer, vol. Ti. part 2, p. 119. 1529.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 223 ■wearying the imagination to invent excuses for the falsehoods which it contains. Yet it is well to see all men in the light in which they see themselves ; and justice requires that we allow the bishops the benefit of their own reply. It was couched in the following words : * — ' After our most humble wise, with our most bounden duty of honour and reverence to your excellent Majesty, endued from^ God with incomparable wisdom and good- ness. Please it the same to understand that we, your orators and daily bounden bedemen, have read and pe- rused a certain supplication which the Comm.ons of your Grace's honourable Parliament now assembled have offered unto your Highness, and by your Grace's com- mandment delivered imto us, that we should make an- swer thereunto. "We have, as the time hath served, made this answer following, beseeching your Grace's indifferent benignity graciously to hear the same. 'And first for that discord, variance, and debate which, in the preface of the said supplication, they do allege to have risen among your Grace's subjects, spirit- ual and temporal, occasioned, as they say, by the un- charitable behaviour and demeanour of divers ordinaries: to this we, the ordinaries, answer, assuring your Majesty that in our hearts there is no such discord or variance on our part against our brethren in God and ghostly chil- dren your subjects, as is induced in this preface ; but ' The ansTrer of the Ordinaries to the supplication of the worshipful the Commons of the Lower House of Parliament oflfered to our Sovereign Lord the King's most nohle Grace.— JSo/fe Home MS. 224 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. our daily prayer is and shall be that aU. peace and con- cord may increase among your Grace's true subjects our said children, whom God be our witness we love, have loved, and shall love ever with hearty affection ; never intending any hurt ne harm towards any of them in soul or body; ne have we ever enterprised anything against them of trouble, vexation, or displeasure; but only have, with all charity, exercised the spiritual juris- diction of the Church, as we are bound of duty, upon certain evil-disposed persons infected with the pestilent poison of heresy. And to have peace with such had been against the Gospel of our Saviour Christ, wherein he saith, Non veni mittere pacem sed gladiiim. Where- fore, forasmuch as we know well that there be as well- disposed and weU-conscienced men of your Grace's Com- mons in no small number assembled, as ever we knew at any time in Parliament ; and with that consider how on our part there is given no such occasion why the whole number of the spirituality and clergy should be thus noted unto your Highness ; we himibling oux hearts to God and remitting the judgment of this our inquietation to Him, and trusting, as his Scripture teacheth, that if we love him above all, omnia cooperabuntur in bonum, shall endeavour to declare to your Highness the inno- cency of us, your poor orators. ' And where, after the general preface of the same supplication, your Grace's Commons descend to special particular griefs, and first to those divers fashions of laws concerning temporal things, whereon, as they say, the clergy in their Convocation have made and daily do 1529.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 225 make divers laws, to their great trouble and iaquietation, ■whicL. said laws be sometimes repugnant to the statutes of your Realm, with, many other complaiats thereupon : ^ To this we say, that forasmuch as we repute and take our authority of making of laws to be grounded upon the Scriptures of God and the determination of Holy Church, which must be the rule and square to try the justice and righteousness of all laws, as well spiritual ai temporal, we verily trust that in such laws as have been made by us, or by our predecessors, the same being sin- cerely interpreted, and after the meaning of the makers, there shall be found nothing contained in them but such as may be well justified by the said rule and square. And if it shall otherwise appear, as it is our duty whereunto we shall always most diligently apply ourselves to re- form our ordinances to God's commission, and to conform our statutes to the determination of Scripture and Holy Church ; so we hope in God, and shall daily pray for the same, that your Sighness will, if there appear cause why, with the assent of your people, temper your Grace's laws accordingly; whereby shall ensue a most sure and hearty conjunction and agreement ; God being lapis angularis. 'And as concerning the requiring of your High- ness's royal assent to the authorizing of such laws as have been made by our predecessors, or shall be made by us, in such points and articles as we have authority to rule and order ; we knowing your Highness's wis- dom, virtue, and learning, nothing doubt but that the • The terms of the seteral articles of complaint are repeated verbally from the petition. I condense them to spare recapitulation. VOL. I. 15 i?6 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. same perceivetli how the granting thereunto dependeth not upon our will and liberty, and that ice may not sub- mit the execution of our charges and duty certainly pre- scribed to us by God to your Highness' s assent ; although, indeed, the same is most worthy for your m.ost pruicely and excellent virtues, not only to give your royal assent, but also to devise and command what we should for good order or manners by statutes and laws provide ia the Church. Nevertheless, we considering we may not so nor ia such sort restraia the doing of our office ia the feeding and ruliag of Christ's people, we most humbly desire your Grace (as the same hath done heretofore) to show your Grace's mind and opinion unto us, which we shall most gladly hear and follow if it shall please God to iaspire us so to do ; and with aU humility we there- fore beseech your Grace, following the steps of your most noble progenitors, to maintain and defend such laws and ordinances as we, according to our calling and by the authority of God, shaU. for his honour make to the edification of virtue and the maiataioing of Christ's faith, whereof your Highness is defender in name, and hath been hitherto iadeed a special protector. ' Furthermore, where there be found in the said sup- plication, with mention of your Grace's person, other griefs that some of the said laws extend to the goods and possessions of your said lay subjects, declariag the trans- gressors not only to fall under the terrible censure of excommunication, but also under the detestable crime of heresy : ' To this we answer that we remember no such, and 1529.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 227 yet if there be any such, it is but according to the com- mon law of the Church, and also to your Grace's law, which detennine and decree that every person spiritual or temporal condemned of heresy shall forfeit his move- ables or immoveables to your Highness, or to the lord spiritual or temporal that by law hath right to them.' Other statutes we remember none that toucheth lands or goods. If there be, it were good that they were brought forth to be weighed and pondered accordingly. ' Item as touching the second principal article of the said supplication, where they say that divers and many of your Grace's obedient subjects, and especially they that be of the poorest sort, be daily called before us or before our substitutes ex officio ; sometimes at the plea- sure of us, the ordinaries, without any probable cause, and sometimes at the only promotion of our summoner, without any credible fame first proved against them, and without presentment in the visitation or lawful ac- cusation : ' On this we desire your high wisdom and learning to consider that albeit in the ordering of Christ's people, your Grace's subjects, God of His spiritual goodness assisteth His Church, and inspifeth by the Holy Ghost as we verily trust such rules and laws as tend to the wealth of his elect folk ; yet upon considerations to man unknown, his infinite wisdom leaveth or permitteth men to walk in their infirmity and frailty ; so that we cannot ne will arrogantly presume of ourselves, as though being ' 2 Heu. lY. cap. 15 ; 2 Hen. V. cap. 7. 228 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. in name spiritual men, we were also in all our acts and doings clean and Yoid from all temporal affections and carnality of this world, or ttat tlie laws of the Church made for spiritual and ghostly purpose he not sometim.e applied to worldly intent. This we ought and do lament, as becometh us, very sore. Nevertheless, as the evil deeds of men be the mere defaults of those particular men, and not of the whole order of the clergy, nor of the law wholesomely by them made; our request and petition shall be with all humility and reverence ; that laws well made be not therefore called evil be- cause by all men and at all tim.es they be not well ex- ecuted ; and that in such defaults as shall appear such distribution may be used wt unusquisque onus suumportet, and remedy be found to reform the offenders ; unto the which your Highness shall perceive as great towardness in your said orators as can be required upon declaration of particulars. And other answer than this cannot be made in the name of your whole clergy, for though in multis qffendimus omnes, as St James saith, yet not 'in omnibus offendimus omnes ; ' and the whole number can neither justify ne condemn particular acts to them un- known but thus. He that calleth a man ex officio for correction of sin, doeth- well. He that calleth men for pleasure or vexation, doeth evil. Snmmoners should be honest men. If they offend in their office, they should be pimished. To prove first [their faults] before men be called, is not necessary. He that is called according to the laws ex officio or otherwise, cannot complain. He that is otherwise ordered should have bv reason con- 1529.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 229 venient recompence and so fortli ; that is well to be allowed, and misdemeanour wlien it appeareth to be re- proved. \ Item where they say in the same article that upon their appearance ex officio at the only pleasure of the ordinaries, they be committed to prison without bail or mainprize ; and there they lie some half a year or more before they come to their deKverance ; to this we answer, — 'That we use no prison before conviction but for sure custody, and only of such as be suspected of heresy, in which crime, thanked be God, there hath fallen no such notable person in our time, or of such quaKties, as hath given occasion of any sinister suspicion to be conceived of malice or hatred to his person other than the heiaousuess of their crime deserveth. Truth it is that certain apo- states, friars, monks, lewd priests, bankrupt merchants, vagabonds, and lewd idle fellows of corrupt intent, have embraced the abominable and erroneous opinions lately sprung in Germany ; and by them some have been se- duced in simplicity and ignorance. Against these, if judgment has been exercised according to the laws of the Church, and conformably to the laws of this realm, we be without blame. If we have been too remiss and slack, we shall gladly do our duty from henceforth. If any man hath been, under pretence of this [crime], par- ticularly offended, it were pity to suffer any man to be wronged; and thus it ought to be^ and otherwise we cannot answer, no man's special case being declared in the said petition. 230 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. ' Item where they say further that they so appear- ing ex officio, be condemned to answer to many gubtle questions by the which a simple, unlearned, or else a weU-witted layman without learning sometimes is, and commonly may be trapped and induced iato peril of open penance to their shame, or else [forced] to redeem their penance for money, as is commonly used ; to this we answer that we should not use subtlety, for we should do aU things plainly and openly ; and if we do other- wise, we do amiss. "We ought not to ask questions, but after the capacities of the man. Christ hath defended his true doctrine and faith in his Catholic Church from aU subtlety, and so preserved good men in the same, as they haye not (blessed be God) been vexed, inquieted, or troubled in Christ's Church. Thereupon evil men fall in danger by their own subtlety ; we protest afore God we have neither known, read, nor heard of any one man damaged or prejudiced by spiritual jurisdiction in this behalf, neither in this realm nor any other, but only by his own deserts. Such is the goodness of God in maintaining the cause of his Catholic faith. ' Item where they say they be compelled to do open penance, or else redeem the same for money ; as for pen- ance, we answer it consisteth in the arbitre of a judge who ought to enjoin such penance as might profit for correction of the fault. Whereupon we disallow that judge's doing who taketh money for penance for lucre or advantage, not regarding the reformation of sin as he ought to do. But when open penance may sometimes work in certain persons more hurt than good, it is com- 1529.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 231 mendable and allowable in that case to punisli by tbe purse, and preserve the fame of the party ; foreseeing always the money be converted in usus pios et eleemosy- nam, and thus we think of the thing, and that the of- fenders should be punished. ' Item where they complain that two witnesses be admitted, be they never so defamed, of little truth or credence, adversaries or enemies to the parties ; yet in many cases they be allowed by the discretion of the ordinaries to put the party defamed, ex officio, to open penance, and then to redemption for money; so that every of your subjects, upon the only will of the ordin- aries or their substitutes, without any accuser, proved fame, or presentment, is or may be infamed, vexed, and troubled, to the peril of their lives, their shames, costs, and expenses : ' To this we reply, tlie Gospel of Christ teacheth us to believe two witnesses ; and as tlie came is, so the judge must esteem the quality of the witness ; and in heresy no exception is necessary to he considered if their tale be likely ; which hath been highly provided lest heretics without jeopardy might else plant their heresies in lewd and light persons, and taking exception to the ieitnesses, take boldness to con- , tinue their folly. This is the universal law of Christen- dom, and hath universally done good. Of any injury done to any man thereby we know not. ' Item where they say it is not intended by them to take away from us our authority to correct and punish sins, and especially the detestable crime of heresy : ' To this we answer, in the prosecuting heretics we 232' REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3.- regard our duty and office wliereunto we be called, and if God will discharge us thereof, or cease that plague universal, as, by directing the hearts of priuces, and specially the heart of your Highness (laud and thanks be unto Him), His goodness doth commence and begia to do, we should and shall haye great cause to rejoice ; as being our authority thereia costly, dangerous, fuU of/ trouble and business, without any fruit, pleasure, or com- modity worldly, but a continued conflict and Texatiou with pertiaacity, wilfulness, foUy, and ignorance, where- upon foUoweth their bodily and ghostly destruction, to our great sorrow. "■ Item where they desire that by assent of your High- ness (if the laws heretofore made be not sufficient for the repression of heresy) more dreadful and terrible laws may be made; this we think is undoubtedly a more charitable request than as we trust necessary, consider- , ing that by the aid of your Highness, and the paias of • your Grace's statutes freely executed, your reahn may be ia short time clean purged from the few small dregs that do remain, if any do remain. ' Item where they desire some reasonable declaration may be made to your people, how they may, if they wiU, avoid the peril of heresy. No better declaration, we say, can be made than is already by our Saviour Christ, the, Apostles, and the determination of the Church, which if they keep, they shall not fail to eschew heresy. ' Item where they desire that some charitable fashion may be devised by your wisdom for the calling of any of your siubjects before us, that it shall not stand in the 1529.]" THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 233 only mil and pleasure of the ordinaries at their own im- agiaation, without lawful accusation by honest witness, according to your law ; to this we say that a better pro- vision cannot be devised than is already devised by the clergy in our opiaion ; and if any default appear in the execution, it shall be amended on declaration of the par- ticulars, and the same proved. ' Item where they say that your subjects be cited out of the diocese which they dwell in, and many times be suspended and excommunicate for light causes upon the only certificate devised by the proctors, and that all your subjects find themselves grieved with the excessive fees taken in the spiritual courts : ' To this article, for because it concerneth specially the spiritual courts of me the Archbishop of Canterbury, please it your Grace to understand that about twelve months past I reformed certain things objected here ; and now within, these ten weeks I reformed many other things in m.y said courts, as I suppose is not imknowi imto your Grace's Comm.ons ; and some of the fees of the officers of my courts I have brought down to halves, some to the third part, and some whoUy taken away and extincted ; and yet it is objected to me as though I had taken no manner of reformation therein. Nevertheless I shall not cease yet ; but in such things as I shall see your Commons most offended I wUl set redress accord- ingly, so as, I trust, they wHl be contented in that behalf. And I, the said archbishop, beseech your Grace to con- sider what service the doctors in civil law, which have had their practice in my courts, have done your Grace i34 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. concerning treaties, truces, confederations, and leagues devised and concluded with outward princes ; and that without such learned men in civil law your Grace could not have been so conveniently served as at all times you have been, which thing, perhaps, when such learned men shall fail, will appear more evident than it doth now. The decay whereof grieveth me to foresee, not so greatly for any cause concerning the pleasure or profit of myself, being a man spent, and at the poiat to depart this world, and having no penny of any advantage by my said courts, but principally for the good love which I bear to the honour of your Grace and of your reabn. And albeit there is, by the assent of the Lords Temporal and the Commons of your Parliament, an Act passed thereupon already, the matter depending before your Majesty by way of supplication offered to your Highness by your said Commons ; ^ yet, forasmuch as we your Grace's humble chaplains, the Archbishops of Canter- bury and York, be bounden by oath to be intercessors %x the rights of our churches ; and forasmuch as the spiritual prelates of the clergy, being of your Grace's Parliament, consented to the said Act for divers great causes moving their conscience, we your Grace's said chaplains show unto your Highness that it hath apper- tained to the Archbishops of Canterbury and York for the space of four hundred years or thereabouts to have spiritual jurisdiction over aU your Grace's subjects dwell- ' An Act that no person shall be cited out of the diocese in -which he dwells, except in certain cases. It received the Eoyal assent two years- later. See 23 Hen. YIII. cap. 9. 1529.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 235 ing witliiii tlie provinces ; and to have authority to call before them, not only in spiritual causes devolved to them by way of appeal, but also by way of querimony and complaint; which right and privilege pertaineth not only to the persons of the said archbishops, but also to the pre-eminences of their churches. Insomuch that when the archbishop of either of the sees dieth, the said privileges do not only remain to his successor (by which he is named Legatus natus), but also in the mean time of vacation the same privilege resteth in the churches of Canterbury and York; and is executed by the prior, dean and chapter of the said churches ; and so the said Act is directly against the liberty and privileges of the churches of Canterbury and York; and what dangers be to them which study and labour to take away the liberties and privileges of the Church, whoso will read the general councils of Christendom and the canons of the fathers of the Catholic Church ordaiued ia that be- half, shall soon perceive. And further, we think verily that our churches, to which the said privileges were granted, can give no cause why the Pope himself (whose predecessors granted that privilege) or any other (the honour of your Grace ever except) may justly take away the same privileges so lawfully prescribed from our churches, though we [ourselves] had greatly offended, abusLQg the said privileges. But when in our persons we trust we have given no cause why to lose that privi- lege, we beseech your Grace of your goodness and abso- lute power to set such orders in this behalf as we may enjoy our privileges lawfully admitted so long. 236 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. ' Item where they complain that there is exacted and demanded in divers parishes of this your realm, other manner of tythes than hath been accustomed to be paid this hundred years past ; and in some parts of this your realm there is exacted double tythes, that is to say, threepence, or twopence-halfpenny, for one acre, over and beside the tythe for the increase of cattle that pas- tureth the same : ' To this we say, that tythes being due by God's law, be so duly paid (thanked be God), by aU good men, as there needeth not exaction in the most parts of this your Grace's realm. As for double tythes, they cannot be maintained due for one increase ; whether in any place they be unduly exacted in fact we know not. This we Imow in learning, that neither a hundred years, nor seven hundred of non-payment, may debar -the right of God's law. The manner of payment, and person unto whom to pay, may be in time altered, but the duty cannot by any means be taken away. ' Item where they say that when a mortuary is due, curates sometimes, before they will demand it, will briag citation for it ; and then will not receive the mortuaries tUl they may have such costs as they say they have laid out for the suit of the same ; when, indeed, if they would first have charitably demanded it, they needed not to' have sued for the same, for it should have been paid with good will : ' "We answer that curates thus offending, if they were known, ought to be punished, but who thus doeth we know not. I529-] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 237 ' Item where they say that divers spiritual persons being presented to benefices within this your realm, we and our ministers do take of them great sums of money and reward; we reply that this is a particular abuse, and he that taketh reward doeth not well ; and if any penny be exacted above the accustomed rate and after convenient proportion, it is not well done. But ia tak- ing the usual fee for the sealing, writing, and register- ing the letters, which is very moderate, we cannot think it to be reputed as any offence ; neither have we heard any priests in our days complain of any excess therein. ' And where they say in the same article that such as be presented be delayed without reasonable cause, to the intent that we the ordinaries may have the profit of the benefice during the vacation, unless they will pact and convent with us by temporal bonds, whereof some bonds contain that we should have part of the profit of the said benefice, which your said subjects suppose to be not only against right and conscience, but also seemeth to be simony, and contrary to the laws of God : ' To this we do say that a delay without reasonable cause, and for a lucrative intent, is detestable in spiritual men, and the doers cannot eschew pimishment: but otherwise a delay is sometimes expedient to examine the clerk, and sometimes necessary when the title is in vari- ance. All other bargains and covenants being contrary to the law ought to be punished, as the quality is of the offence more or less, as simony or inordinate covetousness. ' Item where they say that we give benefices to our nephews and kinsfolk, being in young age or infants, 238 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. whereby tHe cure is not substantially looked iato, nor the parishioners taught as they should he ; we reply to this that the thing which is not lawful in others is in spiritual men more detestable. Benefices should be dis- posed of not secundum carnem et sanguinem, sed secundum merita. And when there is a default it is not authorized by the clergy as good, but reproved ; whereupon ia this the clergy is not to be blamed, but the default as it. may appear must be laid to particular men. ' And where they say that we take the profit of such benefices for the time of the minority of our said kins- folk, if it be done to our own use and profit it is not well ; if [it he bestowed to the bringing up and use of the same parties, or applied to the maiutenance of the Church and God's service, or distributed among the poor, we do not see but that it may be allowed. ' Item where they say that divers and many spiritual persons, not contented with the convenient livings and , promotions of the Church, daily iutromit and exercise themselves in secular offices and rooms, as stewards, re- ceivers, auditors, bailiffs, and other temporal occupations, withdrawing themselves from ..the good contemplative lives that they have professed, not only to the damage but also to the perilous example of your loving and obedient subjects ; to this we your bedesmen answer that beneficed men may lawfully be stewards and receivers to their own bishops, as it evidently appeareth in the laws of the Church ; and we by the same laws ought to have no other. And as for priests to be auditors and bailiffs, we know none such. IS29] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 239 ' And wliere, finally, they, in the conclusion of their supplication, do repeat and say that forasmuch as there is at this present time, and hy a few years past hath been much misdemeanour and violence upon the one part, and much default and lack of patience, charity, and good will on the other part ; and marvellous discord in consequence of the quiet, peace, and tranquillity ia which this your realm hath been ever hitherto preserved through your politic wisdom : ' To the first part as touching such discord as is re- ported, and also the misdemeanour which is imputed to us and our doings, we trust we have sufficiently answered the same, humbly beseeching your Grace so to esteem and weigh such answer with their supplication as shall be thought good and expedient by your high wisdom. Furthermore we ascertain your Grace as touching the violence which they seem to lay to our charge, albeit divers of the clergy of this your realm have sundry times been rigorously handled, and toith much violence entreated hy certain ill-disposed and seditious persons of the lay fee, have been injured in their bodies, thrown down in the kennel in the open streets at mid-day, even here within your city, and elsewhere, to the great rebuke and disquietness of the clergy of your realm, the great danger of the souls of the said misdoers, and perilous example of your subjects. Yet we think verily, and do affirm the same, that no violence hath been so used on our behalf towards your said lay subjects in any case ; \mless they esteem this to be violence that we do use as well for the health of their souls as for the discharge of our duties, in taking. 240 REIGN OF HENR Y THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. examining, and punishing heretics according to the law : wherein we doubt not hut that your Grace, and divers of your Grrace's subjects, do understand well what chari- table entreaty we have used with such as have been be- fore us for the same cause of heresy ; and what means we have devised and studied for safeguard specially of their souls ; and that charitably, as God be our judge, und without violence as [far as] we could possibly ilevise. In execution whereof, and also of the laws of the Church for repression of sin, and also for re- formation of mislivers, it hath been to our great comfort ' that your Grace hath herein of your goodness, assisted and aided us in this behalf for the zeal and love which your Grace bfeareth to God's Church and to His minis- ters ; specially in defence of His faith whereof your Grace only and most worthily amongst all Christian princes beareth the title and name. And for that marvellous discord and grudge among your subjects as is reported in the supplication of your Commons, we beseech your Majesty, all the premises considered, to repress those that be misdoers ; protesting in our behalf that we ourselves have no grudge nor displeasure towards your lay sub- jects our ghostly children. "We intreat your Grace of year accustomed goodness to us your bedemen to con- tinue our chief protector, defender, and aider in and for the execution of our office and duty ; specially touching repression of heresj', reformation of sin, and due be- haviour and order of aU your Grace's subjects, spiritual and temporal ; which (no doubt thereof) shall be much to the pleasure of God, great comfort to men's Souls, 1529.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1329. 241 quietness and unity of all your realm ; and, as we think, most principally to the great comfort of your Grace's Majesty. Which we beseech lowly upon our knees, so entirely as we can, to be the author of unity, charity, and concord as above, for whose preservation we do and shall contiaually pray to Almighty God long to reign and prosper in most honourable estate to his pleasure.' This was the bishops' defence ; the best which, imder the circumstances, they considered themselves capable of making. The House of Commons had stated their com- plaints in the form of special notorious facts ; the bishops replied with urging the theory of their position, and supposed that they could relieve the ecclesiastical system from the faults of its ministers, by laying the sole blame on the unworthiness of individual persons. The degen- erate representatives of a once noble institution could not perhaps be expected to admit their degeneracy, and confess themselves, as they reaUy were, collectively in- competent ; yet the defence which they brought forward would have been valid only so long as the blemishes were the rare exceptions in the working of an institu- tion which was stiU generally beneficent. It was no defence at aU when the faults had become the rule, and when there was no security in the system itself for the selection of worth and capacity to exercise its functions. The clergy, as I have already said, claimed the privileges of saints, while their conduct fell below the standard of that of ordinary men ; and the position taken in this answer was tenable only on the hypothesis which it, in fact, deliberately asserted, that the judicial authority of VOL. I. 16 242 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. ^ [CH. 3. the Church had been coimnitted to it by God Himself; and that no misconduct of its ministers in detail could forfeit their claims or justify resistance to them; There is something touching in the bishops' evi- dently sincere unconsciousness that there could be real room for blame. Warham, who had been Archbishop of Canterbury thirty years, took credit to himself for the re- forms which, under the pressure of public opinion, he had introduced, ia the last few weeks or months ; and did not know that in doiag so he had passed sentence on a life of neglect. In the opinion of the entire bench no in- famy, however notorious, could shake the testimony of a witness ia a case of heresy ; no cruelty was unjust when there was suspicion of so horrible a crime ; while the appointment of minors to church benefices (not to press more closely the edge of the accusation) they admitted while they affected to deny it ; since they were not ashamed to defend the appropriation of the proceeds of benefices occupied by such persons, if laid out on the education and maiatenance of the minors'themselves. Yet these things were as nothing in comparison with the powers claimed for Convocation; and the prelates of the later years of Henry's reign must have looked back with strange sensations at the language which their pre- decessors had so simply addressed to him. If the canons which Convocation might think good to enact were not consistent with the laws of the realm, ' his Majesty ' was desired to produce the wished-for uniformity by altering the laws of the realm ; and although the bishops might not submit their laws to his Majesty's 1529.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 243" approval, they ■would be happy, they told him, to con- sider such suggestions as he might think proper to make. The spirit of the Plantagenets must have slumbered long before such words as these could have been ad- dressed to an English sovereign, and little did the bishops dream that these light words were the spell which would burst the charm, and bid that spirit wake again in all its power and terror. The House of Commons in the mean time had not been idle. To them the questions at issue were unen- cumbered with theoretic difficidties. Enormous abuses had been long ripe for dissolution, and there was no oc- casion to waste time in unnecessary debates. At such a time, with a House practically unanimous, business could be rapidly transacted, the more rapidly indeed in propor- tion to its importance. In six weeks, for so long only the session lasted, the astonished Church authorities saw bill after bill hurried up before the Lords, by which successively the pleasant fountains of their incomes woidd be dried up to flow no longer ; or would flow only in shallow rivulets along .the beds of the once abundant torrents. The jurisdiction of the spiritual courts was not immediately curtailed, and the authority which was in future to be permitted to Convocation lay over for further consideration, to be dealt with in another man- ner. But probate duties and legacy duties, hitherto as- sessed at discretion, were dwarfed into fixed proportions,^' ' 21 Hen. VIII. cap. 5. An Act concerning fines and suras of money to be taken by the ministers of bisbops and otber ordinaries of holy Cburcb for the probate of testa- . ments. 244 REIGN OF HENRY TBE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. not to touch the poorer laity any more, and bearing even upon wealth with a reserved and gentle hand. Mortuaries were shorn of their luxuriance ; when effects were small, no mortuary should be required; when large, the clergy should content themselves with a mo- dest share. No velvet cloaks should be stripped any more from strangers' bodies to save them from a rector's grasp ;^ no shameful battles with apparitors shoidd dis- turb any more the recent rest of the dead.^ Such sums as the law would permit should be paid thenceforward in the form of decent funeral fees for householders dying in their own parishes, and there the exactions should terminate.^ The carelessness of the bishops in the discharge of their most immediate duties obliged the legislature to trespass also in the proviaces purely spiritual, and un- dertake the discipline of the clergy. The Commons had complained in their petition that the clergy, instead of ' Hale, Precedenta, p. 86. « Ibid. » 21 Hen. YIII. cap. 6. An Act concerning the taking of mor- tuaries, or demanding, receiving, or claiming the same. In Scotland the usual mortuary was a cow and the uppermost cloth or counterpane on the bed in which the death took place. A bishop reprimanding a suspected clergyman for his leanings toward the Reform- ation, said to him: — ' My joy, Dean Thomas, I am informed that j'e preach the epistle and gospel every Sunday to your parishioners, and that ye take not the cow nor the upmost cloth from your parishioners ; which thing is very prejudicial to the churchmen. And therefore. Dean Thomas, I would ye took your cow and upmost cloth, or else it is too much to preach every Sunday, for in so doing ye may make the people think we should preach likewise,' — Caldekwood, vol. i. p. 126. The bishop had to bum Dean Thomas at last, heing unable to work conviction into him in these matters. 1529.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 24s attending to their duties, were acting as auditors, bai- liffs, stewards, or in other capacities, as laymen; they were engaged in trade also, in farming, in tanning, in brewing, in doing anything but the duties which they were paid for doing ; while they purchased dispensations for non-residence on their benefices ; and of these bene- fices, ia favoured cases, single priests held as many as eight or nine. It was thought unnecessary to wait for the bishops' pleasure to apply a remedy here. If the clergy were unjustly accused of these offences, a law of general prohibition would not touch them. If the be- lief of the House of Commons was well founded, there was no occasion for longer delay. It was therefore en- acted* — ' for the more quiet and Tirtuous increase and maintenance of divine service, the preaching and teach- ing the "Word of God with godly and good example, for the better discharge of cures, the maintenance of hospi- tality, the relief of poor people, the increase of devotion and good opinion of the lay fee towards spiritual per- sons ' — ^that no such persons thenceforward should take any land to farm beyond what was necessary, bond fide, for the support of their own households; that they should not buy merchandise to sell again ; that they should keep no tanneries or brewhouses, or otherwise directly or indirectly trade for gain. Pluralities were not to be permitted with benefices above the yearly value of eight pounds, and residence was made obli- 1 21 Hen. YIII. cap. 13. An Act that no spiritual person shall take farms; or buy and sell for lucre and profit ; or keep tan-houses or breweries. And for pluralities of benefices and for residence. 246 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH.3. gatory under penalty in cases of absence without special reason, of ten pounds for each month of such atsence. The law against pluralities was limited as against ex- isting holders, each of whom, for their natural lives, might continue to hold as many as four benefices. But dispensations, either for non-residence or for the viola- tion of any other provision of the Act, were made penal in a high degree, whether obtained from the bishops or from the Court of Rome. These bills struck hard and struck home. Yet even persons who most disapprove of the Reformation will not at the present time either wonder at their enactment or complain of their severity. They will be desirous rather to disentangle their doctrine from suspicious con- nection, and will not be anxious to compromise their •theology by the defence of unworthy professors of it. The bishops, however, could ill tolerate an inter- ference with the privileges of the ecclesiastical order. The Commons, it was exclaimed, were heretics and schismatics ; '■ the cry was heard everywhere, of Lack of faith. Lack of faith ; and the lay peers being con- stitutionally conservative, and perhaps instinctively ap- prehensive of the infectious tendencies of innovation, it seemed likely for a time that an effective opposition might be raised in the Upper House. The clergy com- manded an actual majority in that House from their own body, which they might employ if they dared; and although they were not likely to venture alone on so ' Hall, p. 767. IS29.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 247 bold a measure, yet a partial support from the other memhers was a sufficient encouragement. The aged Bi- shop of Rochester was made the spokesman of the eccle- siastics on this occasion. ' My Lords,' he said, ' you see daily what bills come hither from the Commons House, and all is to the destruction of the Church. For God's sake see what a realm the kingdom of Bohemia was ; and when the Church went down, then fell the glory of that kingdom. Now with the Commons is nothing but Down with the Church, and all this meseemeth is for lack of faith only.' ^ ' In result,' says HaU, ' the Acts were sore debated; the Lords Spiritual would in no wise consent, and committees of the two Houses sat continually for discussion.' The spiritualty defended themselves by prescription and usage, to which a Gray's Inn lawyer something insolently answered, on one occasion, ' the usage hath ever been of thieves to rob on Shooter's Hill, ergo, it is lawful.' ' With this answer,' continues Hall, 'the spiritual men were sore offended because their doings were called robberies, but the tem- poral men stood by their sayings, insomuch that the said gentleman declared to the Archbishop of Canter- bury, that both the exaction of probates of testaments and the taking of mortuaries were open robbery and thefts.' At length, people out of doors growing impatient, and dangerous symptoms threatening to show themselves, the King summoned a meeting in the Star-chamber ' Hall, p. 766. 248 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. between eiglit members of botb Houses. Tbe lay peers, after some discussion, conclusively gave way ; and tbe bisbops, left witbout support, were obliged to yield. Tbey signified tbeir unwilling consent, and tbe bUls, • somewbat qualified,' were tbe next day agreed to — ' to tbe great rejoicing of tbe lay people, and tbe great dis- pleasure of tbe spiritual persons.' ' Nor were tbe House of Conmions contented witb tbe substance of victory. Tbe reply to tbeir petition bad perbaps by tbat time been made known to tbem, and at any rate tbey bad been accused of sympathy witb beresy, and tbey would not submit to tbe bateful cbarge witbout exacting revenge. Tbe more clamorous of tbe clergy out of doors were punisbed probably by tbe stocks ; from among tbeir opponents ia tbe Upper House, Fisber was selected for especial and signal bumiliation. Tbe words of wbicb be bad made use were truer tban tbe Commons knew ; perbaps tbe latent trutb of tbem was tbe secret cause of tbe paiu wbicb tbey inflicted ; but tbe special anxiety of tbe Englisb reformers was to disconnect tbemselves, witb marked empbasis, from tbe movement in Germany, and tbey determined to compel {be offend- iag bisbop to witbdraw bis words. Tbey sent tbe speaker. Sir Tbomas Audeley, to tbe King, wbo ' very eloquently declared wbat disbonour it was to bis Majesty and tbe realm, tbat tbey wbicb were elected for tbe wisest men in tbe sbires, cities, and borougbs witbin tbe realm of England, sbould be de- ' Hail, p. 767. 1539.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 249 clared in so noble a presence to lack faith.' It was equivalent to saying ' that they were infidels, and no Christians — as ill as Turks and Saracens.' Wherefore he ' most humbly besought the King's Highness to call the said bishop before him, and to cause hiTn to speak more discreetly of such a number as was in the Commons House." Henry consented to their request, it is likely with no great difficulty, and availed himseK of the op- portunity to read a lesson much needed to the remainder of the bench. He sent for Fisher, and with bi'm for the Archbishop of Canterbury, and for six other bishops. The speaker's message was laid before them, and they were asked what they had to say. It would have been well for the weak trembling old men if they could have repeated what they believed and had maintaiaed their right to believe it. Bold conduct is ever the most safe ; it is fatal only when there is courage but for the first step, and fails when a second is required to support it. But they were forsaken in their hour of calamity, not by courage only, but by prudence, by judgment, by conscience itself. The Bishop of Rochester stooped to an equivocation too transparent to deceive any one ; he said that ' he meant only the doings of the Bohemians were for lack of faith, and not the doings of the Commons House ' — ' which saying was confirmed by the bishops present.' The King allowed the excuse, and the bishops were dismissed ; but they were dismissed into ignominy, and thenceforward, in all Henry's dealings with them, ,1 ^AI.Ii, p. 766. 250 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. they were treated witli contemptuous disrespect. For Fisher himself we must feel only sorrow. After seventy.- six years of a useful and honourable life, which he might have hoped to close in a quiet haven, he was launched suddenly upon stormy waters, to which he was too brave to yield, which he was too timid to contend agaiast ; and the frail vessel drifting where the waves drove it, was soon piteously to perish. Thus triumphant on every side, the Parlia- ment, in the middle of December, closed its session, and lay England celebrated its exploits as a national victory. ' The King removed to Grreenwich, and there kept his Christmas with the Queen with great tri- umph, with great plenty of viands, and disguisings, and interludes, to the great rejoicing of his people ;'' the members of the House of Commons, we may well believe, foUowiag the royal example ia town and' country, and being the little heroes of the day. Only the bishops carried home sad hearts within them, to mourn over the perils.of the Church and the impending end of all things ; Fisher, unhappily for himself, to listen to the wailuigs of the Nun of Kent, and to totter slowly into treason. Here, for the present, leaving the clergy to meditate on their future, and reconsider the wisdom of their an- swer to the King respecting the ecclesiastical jurisdiction (a point on which they were not the less certain to be pressed, because the, process upon it was temporarily suspended), we must turn to the more painful matter Hall, p. 768, IS29] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 251 wMch. for a time longer ran parallel with, the domestic reformation, and as yet was unable to unite with it. After the departure of Campeggio, the further hearing of the divorce cause had been advoked to Rome, where it was impossible for Henry to consent to plead; while the appearance of the supposed brief had opened avenues of new difficulty which left no hope of a decision within the limits of an ordinary lifetime. Henry was stiU, how- ever, extremely reluctant ^ to proceed to extremities, and appeal to the Parliament. He had threatened that he would tolerate no delay, and Wolsey had evidently ex- pected that he would not. Queen Catherine's alarm had gone so far, that in. the autumn she had procured an iaj unction from the Pope, which had been posted ia the churches of Flanders, menacing the Kiag with spiritual censures if he took any further steps.^ Even this she ' So reluctant was he, that at one time he had resolved, rather than-oompromise the unity of Christ- endom, to give way. "When the dis- position of the Court of Rome was no longer douhtful, 'his difficul- tatibus permotus, cum in hoc statu res essent, dixerunt qui ejus verba exceperunt, post profundam secum de universe negotio deliberationem et mentis agitationem, tandem in hsec verba prorupisse, se primum tentS^se illud divortium persuasum ecclesiam Eomanam hoc idem pro- baturum — quod si ita iUa abhorreret ab ilia sententia ut nuUo modo per- mittendum censeret se nolle cum e^ contendere neque ampUus in illo negotio progredi.' Pole, on whose authority we receive these words, says that they were heard with almost unanimous satisfaction at the council board. The moment of hesitation was, it is almost certain, at the crisis which preceded or attended Wolsey's fall. It endured but for three days, and was dispelled by the influence of Cromwell, who tempted both the King and Parliament into their fatal revolt. — POLI Apologia ad Carolmn, ' Legbaito, vol, iii. p. 446. The censures were threatened in the first brief, but the menace was with- drawn under the impression that it was not needed. 252 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. feared that he would disregard, and in March, 1529-30, a second inhibition was issued at her request, couched ia still stronger language."- But these measures were need- less, or at least premature. Henry expected that the display of temper in the country in the late session would produce an effect hoth on the Pope and on the Emperor ; and proposing to send an embassy to re- monstrate jointly with them on the occasion of the Emperor's coronation, which was to take place in the spring at Bologna, he had recourse in the mean time to an expedient which, though blemished in the execution, was itself reasonable and prudent. Among the many technical questions which had been raised upon the divorce, the most serious was on the validity of the original dispensation ; a question not only on the sufficiency of the form the defects of which the brief had been invented to remedy ; but on the more comprehensive uncertainty whether Pope Julius had not exceeded his powers altogether in granting a dispens- ation where there was so close affinity. No one sup- posed that the Pope could permit a brother to marry a sister ; a dispensation granted in such a case would be ipao facto void. — Was not the dispensation similarly void which permitted the marriage of a brother's widow? The advantage which Henry expected from raising this difficulty was the transfer of judgment from the partial tribunal of Clement to a broader court. The Pope • Legband, vol. iii. p. 446. Tlie second brief is dated March 7, and declares that the King, if he proceeds, shall incur ipso facto the greater excommunication ; that the kingdom will fall under an interdioti 1529-30.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 253 could not, of course, adjudicate on tlie extent of his own powers ; especially as he always declared himself to be ignorant of the law ; and the decision of so general a question rested either with a general councU, or must be determined by the consent of Christendom, obtained in some other manner. If such general consent declared against the Pope, the cause was Tirtually terminated. If there was some approach to a consent against him, or even if there was general imcertainty, Henry had a legal pretext for declining his jurisdiction, and appealing to a council. Thomas Cranmer, then a doctor of divinity at Cam- bridge,^ is said to have been the person who suggested this ingenious expedient, and to have advised the King, as the simplest means of carrying it out, to consult in detail the universities and learned men throughout Europe. His notorious activity in collecting the opinions may have easily connected him with the origination of the plan, which probably occurred to many other persons as well as to biTn ; but whoever was the first adviser, it was immediately acted upon, and English agents were despatched into Germany, Italy, and France, carrying with them all means of persuasion, intellectual, moral, and material, which promised to be of most cogent po- tency with lawyers' convictions. This matter was in full activity when the Earl of Wiltshire, Aime Boleyn's father, with Cranmer, the Bishop of London, and Edward Lee, afterwards Arch- ' Cranmer was bom in 1489, and was thus forty years old when he first emerged into eminence. 254- REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. Bishop of York, was despatched to Bologna to lay Henry's remonstrances before the Emperor, who was come at last in person to enjoy his miserable triumph, and receive from the Pope the Imperial crown. Sir Nicholas Carew who had been sent forward a few weeks previously, described in piteous language the state to which Italy had been reduced by him. Passing through Pavia, the English emissary saw the children crying about the streets for bread, and dying of himger ; the grapes in midwinter rotting on the vines, because there was no one to gather them; and for fifty miles scarcely a single creature, man or woman, in the fields. ' They say,' added Carew, ' and the Pope also showed us the same, that the whole people of that country, with divers other plaoes in ItaKa, with war, famine, and pestilence, are utterly dead and gone.' -^ Such had been the combined work of the vanity of Francis and the cold selfishness of Charles ; and now the latter had arrived amidst the ruins which he had made, to receive his crown from the hands of a Pope who was true to Italy, if false to all the world besides, and whom, but two years before, he had imprisoned and disgraced. We think of Clement as the creature of the Emperor, and such substantially he allowed himself to be; but his obedience was the obedience of fear to a master whom he hated, and the Bishop of Tarbes, who was present at the coronation, and stood at his side through the cere- mony, saw him trembling under his robes Feb. 24. . . ^. with emotion, and heard him. sigh bitterly.^ ' State Papers, vol. vii. p. 226. ' Je croy qu'il ne feist en sa vie ceremonie qui luy touohast si prds du 1S29-30.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 2SS Very unwillingly, we may be assured, he was compelled to act his vacillating part to England, and England, at this distance of time, maj^ forgive him for faults to which she owes her freedom, and need not refuse hiTn some tri- bute of sympathy in his sorrows. Fallen on evd times, which greater wisdom and greater courage than had for many a century been found in the successors of St Peter woidd have failed to encounter successfully, Clement YII. remained, with all his cowardice, a true Italian ; his errors were the errors of his age and nation, and were softened by the presence, in more than usual measure, of Italian genius and grace. Benvenuto Cellini, who describes his character with much minuteness, has left us a picture of a hot-tempered, but genuine and kind-hearted man, whose taste was ele- gant, and whose wit, from the playful spirit with which it was pervaded, and from a certain tendency to innocent levity, approached to humour. He was liable to violent bursts of feeling ; and his inability to control himself, his gesticulations, his exclamations, and his tears, all re- present to us a person who was an indifferent master of the tricks of dissimulation to which he was reduced, and whose weakness entitles him to pity, if not to re- spect. The Papacy had fallen to him at the crisis of its deepest degradation. It existed as a politically organ- ized institution, which it was convenient to maintain, but coenr, ne dont je pense qu'il luy doiTe advenir moins du bien. Car aucunes fois qu*il pensoit qu'on ne le regardast, il faisoit de si grands soupirs que pour pesante que fust sa chappe, il la faisoit bransler a bon escient. — Lettre deM.de Cframont, Eceque de Tories. Legkand, vol. iii. p. 386. 2S6 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. from wliieh tlie private hearts of all men liad fallen away ; and it depended for its very life upon tlie support which the Courts of Europe would condescend to extend to it. Among these G-ovemments, therefore, distracted as they were hy mutual hostility, the Pope was compelled to make his choice ; and the fatality of his position con- demned him to quarrel with the only prince on whom, at the outset of these complications, he had a right to depend. In 151a, France had been on the point of declaring her religious independence ; and as late as 1525, Francis entertained thoughts of offeriag the patriarchate to Wol- sey.^ Charles V., postponing his religious devotion for the leisure of old age, had reserved the choice of his party, to watch events and to wait upon opportunity; while, from his singular position, he wielded in one hand the power of Catholic Spain, in the other that of Protestant Germany, ready to strike with either, as oc- casion or necessity recommended. If his Spaniards had annexed the New "World to the Papacy, his German lanzknechts had stormed the Holy City, murdered cardi- nals, and outraged the Pope's person : while both Charles and Francis, alike caring exclusively for their private interests, had allowed the Turks to overrun Hungary, to conquer Rhodes, and to collect an armament at Constan- tinople so formidahle as to threaten Italy itself, and the ' Ellis, Third, Series, vol. ii. p. 98. ' In the letters showed us by M. de Buclans from the Emperor, of the which mention was made in ciphers, it was written in terms that the French king would oifer unto your Grace the papalite of France vel Patriarchate, for the French men would no more obey the Church of Kome.' —Lee to Wolsey. 1529-30] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. , 257 very Christian faitli. Henry alone had shown hitherto a true feeling for religion ; Henry had made war with Louis XII. solely ia the Pope's quarrel ; Henry had broken an old alliance with the Emperor to revenge the capture of Rome, and had won Francis hack to his allegiance. To Henry, if to any one, the Roman bishop had a right to look with confidence. But the power of England was far off, and could not reach to Rome. Francis had been baffled and defeated, his armies de- stroyed, his political influence in the Peninsula annihil- ated. The practical choice which remained to Clement lay only, as it seeined, between the Emperor and mar- tyrdom ; and having, perhaps, a desire for the nobler alternative, yet being without the power to choose it, his wishes and his conduct, his words to private persons and his open actions before the world, were in perpetual con- tradiction. He submitted while his heart revolted ; and while at Charles's dictation he was threatening Henry with excommunication if he proceeded further with his divorce, he was able at that very time to say, in confid- ence, to the Bishop of Tarbes,, that he would be well contented if the King of England would marry on his own responsibility, availing himself of any means which he might possess among his own people, so only that he himself was not committed to a consent or the privileges of the Papacy were not trenched upon.^ ' A ce qu'il m'en a declare des fois plus de trois en secret, il seroit content que le dit mariagp fust ja faict, ou par dispense du Logat d'Auglcterre ou autrement ; mais que ce ne fust par son autorite, in vor.. I. 17 aussi diminuaut sa puissance, quant aux dispenses, et limitation de droict divin. — DcQhiffrcment de Lsttres de M. de Ta)-4es.— Legrand, vol. iii. p. 408. 258 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH [C]i. 3. Two years later, when the course which the Pope would really pursue under such circumstances was of smaller importance, Henry gave him an opportunity of proYiag the sincerity of this language ; and the result was such as he expected it to be. As yet, however, he had not relinquished the hope of succeeding by a more open course. In March, 1529-30, the English ambassadors ap- peared at Bologna. Their instructions were honest, manly, and straightforward. They were directed to ex- plain, ah initio, the grounds of the King's proceedings, and to appeal to the Emperor's understanding of the obligations of princes. Full restitution was to be offered of Catherine's dowry, and the Earl of Wiltshire was provided with letters of credit adequate to the amount.^ If these proposals were not accepted, they were to assume a more peremptory tone, and threaten the alienation of England ; and if menaces were equally ineffectual, they were to declare that Henry, having done all which lay within his power to effect his purpose with the goodwill of his friends, siace he could not do as he would, must now do as he could, and discharge his conscience. If the Emperor should pretend that he would ' abide the law, and would defer to the Pope,' they were to say, ' that the sacking of Rome by the Spaniards and Germans had so discouraged the Pope and cardinals, that they feared for body and goods,' and had ceased to be free agents ; and concluding finally that the King would fear God rather ' Leghant, -vol. iii. p. 408. IS-9-30-] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 259 tliaii man, and would rely on comfort from tlie Sayiour against those who abused their authority, they were then to withdraw.^ The tone of the directions was not san- guine, and the political complications of Europe, on which the Emperor's reply must more or less have de- pended, were too involved to allow us to trace the iaflu- ences which were likely to have weighed with him. There seems no prima facie reason, however, why the attempt might not have been successful. The revolu- tionary intrigues in England had decisively failed, and the natural sympathy of princes, and a desire to detach Henry from Francis, must have combined to recommend a return of the old cordiality which had so long existed between the sovereigns of England and Flanders. But whatever was the cause, the openiag interview assured the Earl of Wiltshire that he had nothing to look for. He was received with distant courtesy ; but Charles ob- jected even to hearing him read his instructions, as an interested party.^ The Earl replied that he stood there, not as the father of the Queen's rival, but as the repre- sentative of his sovereign; but the objection declared the attitude which Charles was resolved to maintain, and which, ia feet, he maintained throughout. ' The Emperor, ' wrote Lord Wiltshire to Henry, ' is stiffly bent against your Grace's matter, and is most earnest in it ; while the Pope is led by the Emperor, and neither will nor dare displease him.'^ From that quarter, so long as parties ' ktate Papers, vol. vii. p. 230. ' The Bishop of Tartes to the King of France. Legkand, vol. iii. p. 401. ' State Papers, vol. vii. p. 234. 25o REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. remained in their existing attitude, there was no hope. It seems to have heen hinted, indeed, that if war hroke out agaia between Charles and Francis, something might be done as the price of Henry's surrendering the French 1530. alliance;' but the suggestion, if it was made, J™i> 12- -vvas probably ironical ; and as Charles was un- questionably acting against his interest in rejecting the English overtures, it is fair to give him credit for having acted, on this one occasion of his life, upon generous motives. A respectful compliment was paid to his con- duct by Henry himself in the reproaches which he ad- dressed to the Pope.^ So terminated the first and the last commxmication on this subject which Henry attempted with Charles V. The ambassadors remained but a few days at Bologna, and then discharged their commission and returned. The Pope, however, had played his part with remarkable skill, and by finessing dexterously behind the scenes, had contrived to prevent the precipitation of a rupture with himself. His simple and single wish was to gain time, trusting to accident or Providence to deliver him from his dilemma. On the one hand, he yielded to the Emperor in refusing to consent to Henry's demand ; on the other, he availed himself of all the intricacies of the case to parry Catherine's demand for a judgment in her favour. • Stale Tapers, toI. vii. p. 235. ^ We demand, a service of you wliicli it is your duty to concede ; and your first thought is lest you •Bhould offend the Emperor. We do not blame him. That in such a matter he should be influenced by natural aiTection is intelligible and laudable. But for that very reason we decline to submit to so partial a judgment.— Henry VIII. to tlie Pope: BuKNET's CoUeclanea,'^. c^y.. 1529-30.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 261 He even seemed to part with the Emperor on doubtful terms. ' The latter,' said the Bishop of Tarhes/ ' before leaving Bologna, desired his Holiness to place two car- dinals' hats at his disposal, to enable him to reward certain services.' His HoHness ventured to refuse. During his imprisonment, he said he had been compelled to nominate several persons for that o£B.ce whose conduct had been a disgrace to their rank ; and when the Emperor denied his orders, the Pope declared that he had seen them. The cardinals' hats would be granted only when they were deserved, 'when the Lutherans in- Germany had been reduced to obedience, and Hungary had been recovered from the Turks.' If this was actiag, it was skilfully managed, and it deceived the eyes of the French ambassador. StiU. further to gratify Henry, the Pope made a public declaration with respect to the dispute which had arisen on the extent of his authority, desiriag, or professing to desire, that all persons whatever throughout Italy should be free to express their opimons without fear of incurring his displeasure. This declaration, had it been honestly meant, would have been creditable to Clement's courage : unfortunately for his reputation, his outward and his secret actions seldom corresponded, and the Emperor's agents were observed to use very dissimilar language in his name. The double policy, nevertheless, was still followed to secure delay. Delay was his sole aim, — either that Catherine's death, or his own, or Henry's, or some ' Legeand, Tol. iii. p. 394. 262 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [cH. 3. relenting in one or other of the two princes ■vvho held their minatory arms extended over him, might spare himself and the Church the calamity of a decision. Per to the Church any decision was fatal. If he declared for Charles, England would fall from it ; if for Henry, Ger- many and Flanders were lost irrecoverably, and Spain itself might foUow. His one hope was to procrastinate ; and in this policy of hesitation for two more years he succeeded, till at length the patience of Henry and of England was worn out, and all was ended. When the Emperor required sentence to be passed, he pretended to be about to yield ; and at the last moment, some technical difficulty ever interfered to make a decision impossible. When Henry was cited to appear at Rome, a point of law was raised upon the privilege of kings, threatening to open into other points of law, and so to midtiply to infinity. The Pope, indeed, finding his own ends so well answered by evasion, imagined that it would answer equally those of the English nation, and he declared to Henry's secretary that ' if the King of England would send a mandate ad totam causam, then if his Highness would, there might be given so many delays by reason of matters which his Highness might lay in, and the remissorials that his Grace might ask, ad partes, that peradventure in ten years or longer a sentence should not be given.' * In point of worldly prudence, his con- duct was unexceptionably wise ; but something beyond worldly prudence was demanded of a tribunal which claimed to be inspired by the Holy Ghost. ' State Papers, ■vol. vii. p. 317. 1530.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 263 The dreary details of the negotiatiSns I have no intention of pursuing. They are of no iaterest to any one, — a miserable tissue of insincerity on one side, and hesitating uncertaiaty on the other. There is no occa- sion for us to weary ourselves with the ineffectual efforts to postpone an issue which was sooner or later iaevitable. I may not pass over in similar silence another un- pleasant episode ia this business, — the execution of Cran- mer's project for collecting the sentiments of Europe on the Pope's dispensing power. The details of this trans- action are not wearyiag only, but scandalous ; and while the substantial justice of Henry's cause is a reason for deploring the means to which he allowed himself to be driven in pursuing it, we may not permit ourselves either to palliate those means or to conceal them. The project seemed a simple one, and likely to be effective and use- ful. Unhappily, the appeal was still to ecclesiastics, to a body of men who were characterized throughout Europe by a imiversal absence of integrity, who were iacapable of pronoim.ciag an honest judgment, and who courted intimidation and bribery by the readiness with which they submitted to be influenced by them. Corruption was resorted to on all sides with the most lavish un- scrupulousness, and the result arrived at was general dis- credit to all parties, and a conclusion which added but one more circle to the labyrinth of perplexities. Croke,"^ a Doctors' Commons lawyer, who was employed ia Italy, described the state of feeliag in the peninsula as gener- ally ia Henry's favour ; and he said that he coidd have ' For Croke's Mission, see Buenet, vol. i. p. 144 e. 264 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [cH. 3. secured an all tut universal consent, except for the secret intrigues of the Spanish agents, and their open direct menaces, when intrigue was insufficient. He complained bitterly of the treachery of the Italians who were in the English pay ; the two Cassalis, Pallavicino, and Ghi- nucci, the Bishop of Worcester. These men, he said, were betraying Henry when they were pretending to serve him, and were playing secretly into the hands of the Emperor.^ His private despatches were intercepted, or the contents of them by some means were discovered ; for the persons whom he named as inclining against the Papal claims, became marked at once for persecution. One of them, a Carmelite friar, was simunoned before the Cardinal Governor of Bologna, and threatened with death ; ^ and a certain Father Omnibow, a Yenetian who had been in active co-operation with Dr Croke, wrote himself to Henry, informing him in a very graphic man- ner of the treatment to which, by some treachery, he had been exposed. Croke and Onmibow were sitting one morning in the latter's cell, ' when there entered upon them the Emperor's great ambassador, acconipanied with many gentlemen of Spain, and demanded of the Father how he durst be so bold to take upon him to intermeddle in so great and weighty a matter, the which did not only lessen and enervate the Pope*8 authority, but was noyful and odious to all Realms Christened." Onmibow being a man of some ' State Papers, vol. vii. p. 241. ' Friar Pallavicino to the Bishop of Bath. EoUs House MS. •> Croke and Onmibow to the King. Holla Souse MS. I530.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 265 influence in Yenice, the ambassador ■warned liim on peril of his life to deal no further with such things : there was not the slightest chance that the King of England could obtain a decision in his fayour, because the question had been placed in the hands of six cardi- nals who were all devoted to the Emperor : the Pope, it was sternly added, had been made aware of his conduct, and was exceedingly displeased, and the general '^ of his order had at the same time issued an injunction, warning all members to desist at their peril from intercourse with the English agents. The Spanish party held themselves justified in resorting to intimidation to defend themselves against English money ; the English may have excused their use of money as a defence against Spanish intimida- tion; and each probably had recourse to their several methods prior to experience of the proceedings of their adversaries, from a certain expectation of what those pro- ceedings would be. Substantially, the opposite ma- noeuvres neutralized each other, and in Catholic countries, opinions on the real point at issue seem to have been equally balanced. The Lutheran divines, from their old suspicion of Henry, were more decided in their opposition to him. 'The Italian Protestants,' wrote Croke to the King, 'be utterly against your Highness m. this cause, and have letted as much as with their power and malice they 1 Generalis magister nostri or- dinis mandaTit omnibus suse reli- gionis professoribus, ut nullus audeat de auctoritate Pontifiois quicquam loqui. Denique Orator Caesareus in talia verba prorupit, quibus facile co""no7i ut me a Pontifice vocari studeat et tunctimendum essetsaluti mese. Father Omnibow to Henry VIII. Rolls Souse MS. 266 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. July. could or might.' ^ In Germany Dr Barnes and Cranmer found the same experience. Luther himself had not forgotten his early passage at arms with the English Defender of the Faith, and was coldly hostile; the German theologians, although they expressed them- selves with reserve and caution, saw no reason to court the anger of Charles by meddling in a quarrel in which they had no iaterest ; they revenged the studied slight which had been passed by Henry on themselves, with a pardonable indifference to the English ecclesiastical revolt. If, however, in Germany and Italy the balance of unjust interference lay on the Imperial side, it was more than adequately compensated by the answering pressure which was brought to bear ia England and in France on the opposite side. Under the allied sovereigns, the royal authority was openly exercised to compel such expres- sions of sentiment as the Courts of London and Paris de- sired ; and the measures which were taken oblige us more, than ever to regret the inventive efforts of Cranmer's genius. For, ia fact, these manoeuvres, even if honestly executed, were all unrealities. The question at issue was one of domestic English politics, and the meta- morphosis of it into a question of ecclesiastical law was a mere delusion. The discussion was transferred to a false ground, and however the Kiag may have chosen June 12. ■ Burnet's Collect.., p. 50. Bur- net labours to prove that on Henry's side there was no bribery, and that the Emperor was the only offender ; an examination of many MS. letters from Croke and other agents in Italy leads me to believe that, although the Emperor only had recourse to intimidation, because he alone was able to practise it, the bribery was equally shared between both parties. iS3a.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 267 to deceive timself, was not being tried upon its real merits. A complicated diffictdty vitally affecting the interests of a great nation, was laid for solution before a body of persons incompetent to understand or decide it, and the laity, with, the alternative before them of civil war, and the returning miseries of the preceding century, could brook no judgment which did not answer to their wishes. The French King, contemptuously indifferent to justice, submitted to be guided by his interest ; feeling it necessary for his safety to fan the quarrel between Henry and the Emj)eror, he resolved to encourage what- ever measures would make the breach between them irreparable. The reconciliation of Herod and Pontius Pilate ^ was the subject of his worst alarm ; and a slight exercise of ecclesiastical tyranny was but a moderate price by which to ensure himself against so dangerous a possibility. Accordingly, at the beginning of June, the Univer- sity of Paris was instructed by royal letters to pronounce an opinion on the extent to which the Pope might grant dispensations for marriage withia the forbidden degrees. The letters were presented by the grand master, and the latter ia his address to the faculty, maiataiaed at the outset an appearance of impartiality. The doctors were ' Legbasd, vol. iii. p. 458. The Grand Master to the King of Prance : — De 1' autre part, adventure, il n'est moina a craindre, que le Eoy d'Angleterre, irrite de trop longues dissimulations, trouvast moyen de parveuir a ses intentions du con- sentement de I'Empereur, et que par I'advenement d'un tiers sejissent amis Kerode et Filate. SC- REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. required to decide according to their conscience, having the fear of Grod before their eyes ; and no open effort was ventured to dictate the judgment which was to be delivered. The majority of the doctors understood their duty and their position, and a speedy resolution was antici- pated, when a certain Dr Beda, an energetic Ultramon- tane, commenced an opposition. He said that, on a question which touched the power of the Pope, they were not at liberty to pronounce an opinion without the permission of his Holiness himself; and that the deliber- ation ought not to go forward till they had applied for that permission and had received it. This view was supported by the Spanish and Italian party in the University. The debate grew warm, and at length the meeting broke iip in confusion without coming to a resolution. Beda, when remonstrated with on the course which he was pursuing, did not hesitate to say that he had the secret approbation of his prince ; that, however Francis might disguise from the world his real opinions, in his heart he only desired to see the Pope victorious. An assertion so confident was readily believed, nor is it likely that Beda ventured to make it without some foundation. But being spoken of openly it became a matter of general conversation, and reaching the ears of the English ambassador, it was met with instant and angry remonstrance. ' The ambassador,' wrote the grand master to Francis, ' has been to me in great displeasure, and has told me roundly that his master is trifled with by us. "We give him words in plenty to keep his beak i'S30.] THE PARLIAMENT-OF 1529. 269 in tlie water ; but it is very plain that we are playing false, and that no honesty is intended. Nor are his words altogether without reason ; for many persons de- clare openly that nothing will be done. If the alliance of England, therefore, appear of importance to your Highness, it would be well for you to write to the Dean of the Faculty, directing him to close an impertinent discussion, and require an answer to the question asked as quickly as possible.' ^ The tone of this letter proves, with sufficient clearness, the true feelings of the French Government ; but at the moment the alternative sug- gested by the grand m.aster might not be ventured. Francis could not affi)rd to quarrel with England, or to be on less than cordial terms with it, and for a time at least his brother sovereigns must continue to be at enmity. The negotiations for the recovery of the French princes out of their Spanish prison, were on the point of conclusion ; and, as Francis was insolvent, Henry had consented to become security for the money demanded for their deliverance. Beda had, moreover, injured his cause by attacking the Gallican liberties ; and as this was a point on which the Government was naturally sensitive, some tolerable excuse was furnished for the lesson which it was thought proper to administer to the offending doctor. On the seventeenth of June, i^jqc, there- fore, Francis wrote as follows to the President of the Parliament of Paris : — 1 Legkand, vol. iii. p. 467, dc. 270 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. ' We have learnt, to our great displeasure, that one Beda, an Imperialist, has dared to raise an agitation among the theologians, dissuading them from giving their voices on the cause of the King of England. — On receipt of this letter, therefore, you shall cause the said Beda to appear before you, and you shall show him the grievous anger which he has given us cause to entertain towards him. And further 3'ou shall declare to him, laying these our present writings before his eyes that he may not doubt the truth of what you say, that if he does not instantly repair the fault which he has com- mitted, he shall be punished in such sort as that he shaU remember henceforth what it is for a person of his quality to meddle in the affairs of princes. If he venture to remonstrate ; if he allege that it is matter of conscience, and that before proceeding to pronounce an opinion it is necessary to cormnunicate with the Pope ; in our ilame you shall forbid him to hold any such com- munication : and he and aU who abet him, and all per- sons whatsoever, not only who shall themselves dare to consult the Pope on this matter, but who shall so much as entertain the proposal of consulting him, shall be dealt with in such a manner as shall be an example to all the world. The liberties of the Gallican Church are touched, and the independence of our theological council, and there is no privilege belonging to this realm on which we are more peremptorily determined to insist.' ' The haughty missive, a copy of which was sent to ' Letter from the King of France to the President of the Parliament of Paris. IMls Souse MS. 153°] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 271 England,^ produced the desired effect. The doctors be- came ohedient and convinced, and the required declara- tion of opioion in Henry's favour, was drawn up in the most ample manner. They made a last desperate effort to escape from the po.sition in which they were placed when the seal of the university was to he affixed to the decision ; but the resistance was hopeless, the authorities were inexorable, and they submitted. It is not a Kttle singular that the English political agent employed on this occasion, and to whose lot it fell to communicate the result to the King, was Reginald Pole. He it was, who behind the scenes, and assisting to work the machinery of the intrigue, first there, perhaps, contracted his dis- gust with the cause on which he was embarked. There learning to hate the ill with which he was forced imme- diately into contact, he lost sight of the greater iU to which it was opposed ; and in the recoil commenced the first steps of a career, which brought his mother to the scaffold, which overspread all England with an atmo- sphere of treason and suspicion, and which terminated at last, after years of exile, rebellion, and falsehood, in a brief victory of blood and shame. So ever does wrong action beget its own retribution, punishing itself by it- self, and wrecking the instruments by which it works. The letter which Pole wrote from Paris to Henry will not be Tminteresting. It revealed his distaste for his occupation, though prudence held him silent as to his deeper feelings. ' Letter from Reginald Tole to Henry VIII. Rolls Souse MS. 2^^ REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [ch. 3. ' Please it your Highness to be advertised, tliat the determination and conclusion of the divines in this Uni- versity was achieved and finished according to your desired purpose, upon Saturday last past. The sealing of the same has been put off unto this day, nor never could be obtaiaed before for any soliciting on our parts which were your agents here, which never ceased to labour, all that lay in us, for the expedition of it, both with the privy president and with all such as we thought might in any part aid us therein. But what di£B.culties and stops hath been, to let the obtaining of the seal of the University, notwithstandiag the conclusion passed and agreed unto by the more part of the faculty, by reason of such oppositions as the adversary part hath made to embezzle the determination that it should not take effect nor go forth ia that same form as it was con- cluded, it may please your Grace to be advertised by this bearer, Master Fox ; who, with his prudence, diligence, and great exercise in the cause, hath most holp to resist aU these crafts, and to bring the matter to that poiat as your most desired purpose hath been to have it. He hath indeed acted according to that hope which I had of him at the beginning and first breaking of the matter amongst the faculty here, when I, somewhat fearing and fore- seeing such contentions, altercations, and em- July. peschements as by most likelihood might en- sue, did give your Grace advertisement, how necessary I thought it was to have Master Fox's presence. And whereas I was informed by Master Fox how it standeth with your Grace's pleasure, considering my fervent de- IS30.1 THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 273 sire thereon, that, your motion once achieved and brought to a final conclusion in this UniTersity, I should repair to your presence, your Grace could not grant me at this time a petition more comfortable imto me. And so, making what convenient speed I may, my trust is shortly to wait upon your Highness. Thus Jesu preserve your most noble Grace to his pleasure, and your most comfort and honour. Written at Paris, the seventh day of July, by your Grace's most humble and faithful servant, Reginald Pole.' * "We must speak of this transaction as it deserves, and call it wholly bad, unjust, and inexcusable. Yet we need not deceive ourselves into supposing that the oppo- sition which was crushed so roughly was based on any principle of real honesty. In Italy, intrigue was used against intimidation. In France intimidation was used against intrigue; and the absence of rectitude in the parties whom it was necessary to influence, provoked and justified the contempt with which they were treated. The conduct of the English Universities on the same occasion was precisely what their later characters woidd have led us respectively to expect from them. At Ox- ford the heads of houses and the senior doctors and masters submitted their consciences to State dictation, without opposition, and, as it seemed, without reluct- ance. Henry was wholly satisfied that the right was on his own side ; he was so convinced of it, that an opposi- tion to his wishes among his own subjects, he could at- ' Pole to Henry VIII. HolU Souse MS. 18 274 REIGN' OF HENRY- THE EIGHTH. [JCH. 3. tribute only to disloyalty or to some otber ^iwortby feeling ; and tli,erefore, wliile he directed, tKe Convoca- tion, ' giving no credenae to sinister persuasions, to gho'w and declare their just and true learning in liis cause,' lie wa,a aj)le to dwell upon the answer which he expected from them, as a plain matter of duty ; and. obviously as not admitting of any uncertaiaty whatever^ ' We wiH and command you,' he said, ' thgit ye, not leaning to wilful and sinister opinions of your own several minds, considering that we be your sovereign liege lord [and] totally giving your time, mind, and affections to the true overtures of divine learning in this behalf, do show and declare your true and just learning in the said cause, like as ye will abide by : whereia ye shall not only please Almighty God, but also us your Hege lord:. And we, for your so doing, shall be to you and to our University there so good and gracious a lord for the same, as ye shall perceive it well done in your well fortune to come. And in' case you do not uprightly, according to divine learning, handle yourselves herein, ye may be assured that we, not without great cause, shall 80 quickly and sharply look to your unnatural misdemeanour herein, that it shall not be to your quiet- nesa and ease hereafter.' * The admonitory clauses were sufficiently clear ; they were scarcely needed, however, by the older members of the University. An enlarged experience of the world which years, at Oxford as well as elsewhere, had not failed to bring with them, a just ap- ' SCBNET, Collfctfinea, p. 429. J53o] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 275 prehension of tlie condition of the kingdom, and a sense of the obligations of subjects in times of political diiE- cnlty, sufficed to reconcile the heads of the colleges to obedience; and threats were not required where it is unlikely that a thought of hesitation was entertained. But there was a class of residents which appears to be perennial in that University, composed out of the younger masters ; a class of men who, defective aKke in age, in wisdom, or in knowledge, were distinguished by a species of theoretic High Church fanaticism ; who, un- til they received their natural correction from advancing age, required from time to time to be protected against their own extravagance by some form of external pres- sure. These were the persons whom the King was ad- dressing in his more severe language, and it was not without reason that he had recourse to it. In order to avoid difficulty, and to secure a swift and convenient resolution, it was proposed that both at Ox- ford and Cambridge the Universities should be repre- sented by a committee composed of the heads of houses, the proctors, and the graduates in divinity and law : that this committee should agree upon the form of a reply ; and that the University seal should then be affixed with- out further discussion. This proposition was plausible as well as prudent, for it might be supposed reasonably that young half-educated students were incapable of forming a judgment on an intricate point of law ; and. to admit their votes was equivalent to allowing judg- ment to be gfiven by party feeling. The masters who were to be thus excluded refused however to entertain 276 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. this view of their incapacity. The question whether the committee should be appointed was referred to Con- vocation, where, having the advantage of numbers, they coerced the entire proceedings : and some of them ' ex- pressing themselves in a very forward manner ' to the royal commissioners,^ and the heads of houses being embarrassed, and not well knowing what to do, the King found it necessary again to interpose. He was im willing, as he said, to violate the constitution of the University by open interference, ' considering it to exist under grant and charter from the Crown as a body politic, in the ruling whereof in things to be done in the name of the whole, the number of private suffrages doth prevail.' ' He was loth, too,' he added, ' to show his displeasure, whereof he had so great cause ministered unto him, unto the whole in general, whereas the fault perchance consisted and remained in light and wilful heads,' and he trusted that it might suffice if the mas- ters of the colleges used their private influence and au- thority ^ in overcoming the opposition. For the effecting of^this purpose, however, and in order to lend weight to their persuasion, he assisted the Convocation towards a Conclusion with the following characteristic missive : — ' To our trusty and well-beloved the heads of houses, doctors, and proctors of our University of Oxford : ' Trusty and well-beloved, we greet you well ; and of late being informed, to our no little marvel and ' State Papers, vol. i. p. 377. ' Subnet's Collectanea, p. 430; State Papers, vol. i. p. 378. I530.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 277 discontentation, that a great part of the youth of that our University, with contentious and factious manner daily combining together, neither regarding their duty to us their sovereign lord, nor yet conforming them- selves to the opinions and orders of the virtuous, wise, sage, and profound learned men of that University, wil- fully do stick upon the opinion to have a great number of regents and non-regents to be associate unto the doc- tors, proctors, and bachelors of diviaity for the deter- mination of our question ; which we believe hath not been often seen, that such a number of right small learn- ing in regard to the other should be joined with so famous a sort, or ui a manner stay their seniors in so weighty a cause. And forasmuch as this, we think, should be no small dishonovtr to our University there, but most especially to you the seniors and rulers of the same ; and as also, we assure you, this their unnatural and unkind demeanour is not only right much to our displeasure, but much to be marvelled of, upon what ground and occasion they, being our mere subjects, should show themselves more Tmkind and wiliul in this matter than all other universities, both in this and all other regions do : we, trusting ia the dexterity and wisdom of you and other the said discreet and substan- tial learned men of that University, be in perfect hope that you will conduce and frame the said young persons unto order and conformity as it becometh you to do. Whereof we be desirous to hear with incontinent dili- gence ; and doubt you not we shall regard the demean- our of every one of the University according to their 278 REIGN OF HEXRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. merits and deserts. And if the youth of the tTniversity will play masteries as they begin to do, we doutt not but they shall well perceive that non est bonum irritare crabrones.^ ' Given under our hand and seal, at our Castle of Windsor. 'Henry R'^ It is scarcely necessary to say, that, armed with this letter, the heads of houses subdued the recalcitrance of the overhasty ' youth ; ' and Oxford duly answered as she was required to answer. The proceedings at Cambridge were not very dis- similar ; but Cambridge being distingidshed by greater openness and largeness of mind on this as on the other momentous subjects of the day than the sister University, was able to preserve a more manly bearing, and escape direct humiliation. Cranmer had written a book upon, the divorce in the preceding year, which, as coming from a well-known Cambridge man, had occasioned a careful ventilation of the question there; the resident masters had been divided by it into factions nearly equal in number, though unharmoniously composed. The heads of houses, as at Oxford, were inclined to the King, but they were embarrassed and divided by the presence on the same side of the suspected liberals, the party of Shaxton, Latimer, and Cranmer himself. The agitation of many months had rendered all members of ' It is not f ood to stir a hornet's nest. ' Buhnet's Collectanea, p. 431. 1530] THE PARLIAMENT OF rsag. 279 tlie UniYersity, yoimg and old, so well acquainted (as they supposed) with the bearings of the difficulty, that they naturally resisted, as at the other University, the demand that their power shoidd be delegated to a com- mittee ; and the Cambridge Convocation, as well as that of Oxford, threw out this resolution when it was first proposed to them. A king's letter having made thent more amenable, a list of the intended committee W£« drawn out, which, containing Latimer's name, occasioned a fresh storm. But the number in the senate house being nearly divided, 'the labour of certain friends turned the scale ; the vote passed, and the committee was allowed, on condition that the question should be argued publicly in the presence of the whole University. Finally, judgment was obtained on the King's side, though in a less absolute form than he had required, and the commissioners did not think it prudent to press fbf a more extreme conclusion. They had been desired ts pronounce that the Pope had no power to permit a man to marry his brother's widow. They consented only to say that a marriage within those degrees was contrary to the divine law ; but the question of the Pope's power was left unapproached.^ It will not be uninteresting to follow this judgment a further step, to the delivery of it into the hands of thfe King, wher-e it will introduce us to a Sunday at Windsor Castle three centuries ago. We shall find present there, as a significant symptom of the time, Hugh Latirder, ' CuENET's Collectanea, p. 48. zS) REIGN OF HENRY TBE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. appointed fresMy select preacher in the royal chapel, but already obnoxious to English orthodoxy, on account of his Cambridge sermons. These sermons, it had been said, contained many things good and profitable, 'on sin, and godliness, and virtue,' but much also which was disrespectM to established beliefs, the preacher being clearly opposed to ' candles and pilgrimages,' and ' call- ing men unto the works that God commanded in his Holy Scripture, aU dreams and unprofitable glosses set aside and utterly despised.' The 'preacher had, there- fore, been cited before consistory courts and interdicted by bishops, ' swarms of friars and doctors flocking against Master Latimer on every side.' ^ This also was to be noted about him, that he was one of the most fearless men who ever Hved. Like John Knox, whom he much resembled, in whatever presence he might be, whether of poor or rich, of laymen or priests, of bishops or kings, he ever' spoke out boldly from his pulpit what he thought, directly if necessary to particular persons whom he saw before bim respecting their own actions. Even Henry himself he did not spare where he saw occasion for blame ; and Henry, of whom it was said that he never was mistaken in a man — ^loving a man ^ where he could find him with aU his heart — ^had, notwithstanding, chosen this Latimer as one of his own chaplains. The unwilHng bearer of the Cambridge judgment ' Preface to Latimer's Sermons. Parker Society's edition, p. 3. ' ' King Hairy loved a man,' was an Eiigli>li pro-verb to the close of the century. See Sir Kobert Xaunton's Fragmeiita Regalia, London, 1641. p. 14. I530.] T^E PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 281 was Dr Buckmaster, tlie vice-chancellor, who, in a letter to a friend, describes his reception at the royal castle. ' To the right worshipful Dr Edmonds, vicar of Al- borne, in "Wiltshire, my duty remembered, — ' I heartily commend me mito you, and I let you un- derstand that yesterday week, being Sunday at after- noon, I came to Windsor, and also to part of Mr Lati- mer's sermon ; and after the end of the same I spake with Mr Secretary [Cromwell], and also with Mr Provost ; and so after evensong I delivered our letters in the Chamber of Presence, all the Court beholding. The Eong, with Mr Secretary, did there read them ; and did then give me thanks and talked with me a good while. He much lauded our wisdom and good convey- ance in the matter, with the great quietness ia the same. He showed me also what he had in his hands for our University, according to that which Mr Secretary did express unto us, and so he departed from me. But by and by he greatly praised Mr Latimer's sermon ; and in so praisiag said on this wise : ' This displeaseth greatly Mr Vice- Chancellor yonder ; yon same,' said he to the Duke of Norfolk, ' is Mr Vice-Chancellor of Cam- bridge,' and so pointed unto me. Then he spake secretly unto the said Diike, which, after the King's departure, came unto me and welcomed me, saying, among other things, the King would speak with me on the next day. And here is the first act. On the next day I waited until it was dinner time ; and so at the last Dr Butts [king's physician] came unto me, and brought a re- ward, twenty nobles, for me, and five marks for the junior 282 REIG.V OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 3. proctor ■whioL. was witli me, saying that I should take that for a resolute answer, and that I might depart from the Court when I would. Then came Mr ProTOst, and when I had shewed hiTn of the answer, he said I should *peak with the Kiag after dinner for all that, and so he Brought me iato a privy place where after dinner he Irould have me wait. I came thither and he both ; and by one of the clock the King entered ia. It was in a gallery. There were Mr Secretary, Mr Provost, Mt Latimer, Mr Proctor, and I, and no more. The King then talked with us until six of the clock. I assure you he was scarce contented with Mr Secretary and Mr Provost, that this was not also determined, an PapA fossit dispensare. I made the best, and confirmed the same that they had shewed his Grace before ; and how it would never have been so obtaiaed. He opened his mind, saying he would have it determined after Easter, and of the same was counselled awhile. ' Much other commimication we had, which were too long here to recite. Then his Highness departed, cast- ing a little holy water of the Court ; and I shortly aftet took my leave of Mr Secretary and Mr Provost, with whom I did not drink, nor yet was bidden, and on the morrow departed from thence, thinking more than I did say, and being glad that I was out of the Court, where many men, as I did both hear and perceive, did wondet at me. And here shall Le an end for this time of this fe,ble. ' All the world almost crieth out of Cambridge fot this act, and specially on me ; but I must bear it as well I530-] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 283 as I may. I have lost a benefice by it, wbicb I shoiild bave bad ■witbin these ten days; for there bath one fallen in Mr Throgmorton's^ gift which be bath faith- fully promised unto me many a time, but now his mind is turned and alienate from me. If ye go to Court after Easter I pray you have me in remembrance. Mr Lati- mer preacheth still, — quod semuli ejus graviter ferunt. ' Thus fare you well. Your own to bis power, 'William Buckmaster.^ 'Cambridge, Monday after Easter, 1530.' It does not appear that Cambridge was pressed fur- ther, and we may, therefore, allow it to have acquitted itself creditably. If we sum up the results of Cran- mer's measure as a ■ndiole, it may be said that opinions bad been given by about half Europe directly or indi- rectly unfavourable to the Papal claims ; and that, there- fore, the King bad furnished himself with a legal pre- text for deeUning the jurisdiction of the court of Rome, and appealing to a general council. Objections to the manner in which the opinions had been gained could be answered by recriminations equally just; and in the technical aspect of the question a step bad certainly been gained. It will be thought, nevertheless, on wider grounds, that the measure was a mistake ; that it would have been far better if the legal labyrinth bad never been entered, and if the divorce bad been claimed only ' Sir George Throgmorton, who distinguished himself by hia opposi- tion to -the Beformation in the House of Commons. See vol. ii. Ap- pendix. ' BufiNET's Colled., p. 429. 284 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. \qxi. 3. upon those considerations of policy for wMcli it had been first demanded, and whicli formed the true justifi- cation of it. Not only might a shameful chapter of scandal have been spared out of the world's history, but the point on which the battle was being fought lay be- side the real issue. Europe was shaken with intrigue, hundreds of books were written, and tens of thousands of tongues were busy for twelve months weaving logical subtleties, and all for nothing. The truth was left un- spoken because it was not convenient to speak it, and all parties agreed to persuade themselves and accept one another's persuasions, that they meant something which they did not mean. Beyond doubt the theological diffi- culty really affected the King. We cannot read his own book^ upon it without a convictioB. that his arguments were honestly urged, that his misgivings were real, and that he meant every word which he said. Yet it is clear at the same time that these misgivings would not have been satisfied, if aU the wisdom of the world — Pope, cardinals, councils, and aU. the learned faculties together — ^had declared against him, the true secret of the mat- ter lying deeper, understood and appreciated by all the chief parties concerned, and by the English laity, whose interests were at stake ; but in all these barren disput- ings ignored as if it had no existence. It was perhaps less easy than it seems to have fol- lowed the main road. The by-ways often promise best at first entrance into them, and Henry's peculiar temper ' A Glasae of Truth. I530.] THE PARLIAMENT OF 1529. 285 never allowed him to believe beforehand that a track which he had chosen could lead to any conclusion except that to which he had arranged that it shotdd lead. "With an intellect endlessly fertile in finding reasons to justify what he desired, he could see no justice on any side but his own, or understand that it was possible to disagree with him except from folly or Hl-feeHng. Starting always with a foregone conclusion, he arrived of course where he wished to arrive. His ' Grlasse of Truth ' is a very picture of his mind. ' If the marshall of the host bids us do anything,' he said, ' shall we do it if it be against the great captain ? Again, if the great captain bid us do anything, and the king or the emperor com- mandeth us to do another, dost thou doubt that we must obey the commandment of the king or emperor, and con- temn the commandment of the great captaia ? Therefore if the kin g or the emperor bid one thing, and God another, we must obey Grod, and contemn and not regard neither king nor emperor.' And, therefore, he argued, ' we are not to obey the Pope, when the Pope commands what is unlawful.' * These were but many words to prove what the Pope would not have questioned; and either they concluded nothing or the conclusion was assumed. We cannot but think that among the many misfor- tunes of Henry's life his theological training was the greatest ; and that directly or iudirectly it was the parent of all the rest. If ia this unhappy business he had trusted only to his instincts as an English statesman ; if he had • Glaaae of Truth, p. 144. 286 REIGM OP HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH.J. been contented himself with the truth, and had pressed ao arguments except those which in the secrets of his heart had weight with him, he would have spared hia own memory a mountain of undeserved reproach, and have spared historians their weary labour through these barren deserts of unreality. 287 CHAPTER IV. CHURCH AND STATE. T H K authorities of the Church, after the lesson which they had received from the Parliament in its first session, were now allowed a respite of two years, during which they might re-consider the complaints of the people, and consult among themselves upon the conduct which they would pursue with respect to those com- plaints. They availed themselves of their interval of repose in a manner little calculated to recover the esteem which they had forfeited, or to induce the legislature fiirther to stay their hand. Instead of reforming their own fe.ults, they spent the time in making use of their yetimcurtailed powers of persecution ; and they wreaked the bitterness of their resentment upon the unfortunate heretics, who paid with their blood at the stake for the diminished revenues and blighted dignities of their spiritual lords and superiors. During the later years of "Wolsey's administration, the Protestants, though threatened and imprisoned, had escaped the most cruel consequences of their faith. "Wolsey had been a warm- hearted and genuine man, and although he had believed 288 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. as earnestly as his brother bisli(^s, that Protestantism was a pernicious thing, destructive alike to the institu- tions of the country and to the souls of mankind, his memory can be reproached with nothing worse than assiduous but humane efforts for the repression of it. In the three years which followed his dismissal, a far more bloody page was written in the history of the reformers ; and tinder the combined auspices of Sir Thomas More's fanaticism, and the spleen of the angry clergy, the stake re-commenced its hateful activity. This portion of my subject requires a full and detailed treatment ; I reserve the account of it, therefore, for a separate chapter, and proceed for the present with the progress of the secular changes. Although, as I said, no further legislative measures were immediately contemplated against the clergy, yet they were not permitted to forget the alteration in their position which had followed upon Wolsey's fall ; and as they had shown, in the unfortunate document which they had submitted to the King, so great a difficulty in com- prehending the nature of that alteration, it was necessary clearly and distinctly to enforce it upon them. Until that moment they had virtually held the supreme power in the State. The nobility, crippled by the wars of the Roses, had sunk into the second place ; the Commons were disorganized, or incapable of a definite policy ; and the chief offices of the Government had fallen as a matter of course to the only persons who for the moment were competent to hold them.. The jealousy of ecclesiastical encroachments, which had shown itself so bitterly under iS3o] CHURCH AND STATE. 289 the Plantagenets, had heen superseded from the acces- sion of Henry VII. by a policy of studied conciliation, and the position of Wolsey had but symbolized the position of his order. But Wolsey was now gone, and the ecclesiastics who had shared his greatness while they envied it, were compelled to participate also in his change of fortune. This great minister, after the failure of a discreditable effort to fasten upon him a charge of high treason, — a charge which, vindictively pressed through the House of Lords, was wisely rejected by the Commons, — had been prosecuted with greater justice for a breach of the law, ia having exercised the authority of papal legate within the realm of England. His policy had broken down : he had united against him in a common exaspera- tion all orders in the State, secular and spiritual ; and the possible consequences of his adventurous transgression had fallen upon him. The ParKaments of Edward I., Edward III., Richard II., and Henry IV. had by a series of statutes pronounced illegal aU presentations by the Pope to any office or dignity in the Anglican Church, under penalty of a premunire ; the provisions of these Acts extending not only to the persons themselves who accepted office under such conditions, but comprehending equally whoever acknowledged their authority, 'their executors, procurators, fautors, maintainers, and re- ceivers.' ^ The importance attached to these laws was to be seen readily in the frequent re-enactment of them. ' 35 Ed. I. ; 25 Ed. Ill stat. 4; stat. 5, cap. 22 ; 27 Ed. III. stat. 13 Kic. II. stat. 2. cap. 2 ; 16 Kic. II. cap. 5 ; 9 Hen. IV. cap. 8. VOL. I. 19 igo REiGtf OF HENRY TffS EIGHTH. [CH. 4. trith language of increasing vehemence ; and although the primary object was to neutralize the supposed right of the Pope to present to English benefices, and although the office of Papal legate is not especially named in any one of the prohibitory clauses, yet so acute a canonist as Wolsey could not have been ignorant that it was com- prehended imder the general denunciation. The 5th of the 1 6th of Richard II. was in fact explicitly universal in its language, and dwelt especially on the importance of prohibiting the exercise of any species of jurisdiction which could encroach on the royal authority. He had therefore consciously violated a law on his own respon- sibility, which he knew to exist, but which he perhaps trusted had fallen into desuetude, and would not again be revived. It cannot be denied that in doing so, being at the time the highest law officer of the realm, he had committed a grave offence, and was justly liable to the full penalties of the broken statute. He had re- ceived the royal permission, but it was a plea which could not have availed him, and he did not attempt to urge it.^ The contingency of a possible violation of the ' Cavendish, p. 276. Gardiner has left some notice- able remarks on this subject. ' ■Whether,' he says, ' a king may command against a common law or an act of parliament, there is never a judge or other man in the realm ought to know more by expe- rience of that the laws have said than I. ' First, my Lord Cardinal, that obtained his legacy by oiir late Sovereign Lord's requirements at Rome, yet, because it was against the laws of the realm, the judges concluded the offence of premunire, which matter I bare away, and took it for a law of the realm, because the lawyers said so, but my reason digested it not. The lawyers, for confirmation of their doings, broBght in the case of Lord Tiptoft. Au IS30-] CHURCH AND. STATE. 291 law by the King himself had been expressly foreseen and provided against in the Act under which he was prose- cuted/ and being himself the King's legal adviser, it earl he was, and learned in the civil laws, who being chancellor, hecause in execution of the King's command- ment he offended the laws of the realm, suffered on Tower Hill. They brought in examples of many judges that had fines set on their heads in like oases for transgres- sion of laws by the King's com- mandment, and this I learned in that case. ' Since that time being of the council, when many proclamations were devised against the carriers out of corn, when it came to punish the offender, the judges would answer it might not be by the law, because the Act of Parliament gave liberty, wheat being under a price. Where- upon at last followed the Act of Proclamations, in the passing where- of were many large words spoken.' After mentioning other eases, he goes on : — ' I reasoned onoe in the Parlia- ment House, where there was free speech without danger, and the Lord Audely, to satisfy me, because I was in some secret estimation, as he knew, ' Thou art a good fellow, Bishop,' quoth he; 'look at the Act of Supremacy, and there the King's doings be restrained to spiritual jurisdiction; and in an- other act no spiritual law shall have place contrary to a common law, or an act of parliament. And this | were not,' quoth he, 'you bishops would enter in with the King, and by means of his supremacy order the laws as ye listed. But we will pro- vide,' quoth he, ' that the premunire' shall never go off your heads.' This I bare away then, and held my peace.' — Gardiner to the Protector Somerset: MS. KarUian, 417. ' 13 Exc. II. Stat. ■/., cap. 2. Et si le Eoi envoie par lettre ou en autre maniere a la Courte du Eome al eicitacion dascune person, parount que la contrarie de cest estatut soit fait touchant asoune dignite de Sainte Eglise, si celuy qui fait tiel eicitacion soit Prelate de Sainte Eglise, paie an Roy le value de ses temporalitees dun an. The petition of Parliament which occasioned the statute is even more emphatic : Per- veuz tout foitz que par nuUe traite ou composition a faire entre le §einte Pere le Pape et notre Seig- neur le Roy que riens soit fait a contraire en prejudice de cest Esta- tute a faire. Et si ascune Seigneur Espirituel ou Temporel ou ascune persone quiconque de qu'elle con- dition qu'il soit, enforme, ensence ou excite le Roi ou ses heirs, I'anien- tiser, adnuUer ou repeller cest Es- tatut a faire, et de ceo soit atteint par due proces du loy que le Seig- neur Espirituel eit la peyne sus dite, &c. — Hulls of Parliament, Eic. 11. 13- 292 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. was liis duty to have kept his sovereign * informed of the true nature of the statute. He had neglected this, his immediate obligation, in pursuit of the interests of the Church, and when Henry's eyes were opened, he did not consider himself called upon to interfere. to shield his minister from the penalties which he had incurred, nor is it likely that in the face of the irritation of the country he could have done so if he had desired. It was felt, indeed, that the long services of Wolsey, and his generally admirahle administration, might fairly save him (especially under the circumstances of the case) from extremity of punishment ; and if he had been allowed to remain unmolested in the afSuent retirement which was at first conceded to him, his treatment would not have caused the stain which we have now to la- ment on the conduct of the administration which suc- ceeded his fall. He indeed himself believed that the final attack upon him was due to no influence of rival statesmen, but to the hatred of Anne Boleyn ; and per- haps he was not mistaken. This, however, is a matter which does not concern us here, and I need not pursue it. It is enough that he had violated the law of Eng- ' Even further, as chancellor, the particular duty had been assigned to him of watching over the observ- ance of the Act. Et le chanceller que pur le temps serra a quelle heure que pleint a luy ou a conseill le Boy soit fait d'ascunes des articles sus ditz par iscune persone que pleindre soy voudra granta briefs sur le oas ou commissions a faire au covenables persones, d'oicr et terminer les ditz articles sur peyne do perdre son office et jamais estre mys en office le Eoy et perdre mille livres a lever a I'oeps le £oy si de ce soit atteint par du proces. — Rolls of Parliament , Ric. II. 13. 1530.] CHURCH AND STATE. 293 land, openly and knowingly, and on the revival of the national policy by which that law had been enacted, he reaped the consequences in his own person. It will be a question whether we can equally approve of the enlarged application of the statute which immedi- ately followed. The gmlt of Wolsey did not rest with himself; it extended to all who had recognized him in his capacity of legate ; to the archbishops and bishops, to the two Houses of Convocation, to the Privy Council, to the Lords and Commons, and indirectly to the nation itself. It was obvious that such a state of things was not contemplated by the Act under which he was tried, and where in point of law all persons were equally guilty, in equity they were equally innocent ; the circumstances of the case, therefore, rendered necessary a general par- don, which was immediately drawn out. The Govern- ment, however, while granting absolution to the nation, determined to make some exceptions in their lenity ; and harsh as their resolution appeared, it is not difficult to conjecture the reasons which induced them to form it. The higher clergy had been encouraged by "Wolsey's po- sition to commit those excessive acts of despotism which had created so deep animosity among the people. The overthrow of the last ecclesiastical minister was an op- portunity to teach them that the privileges which they had abused were at an end ; and as the lesson was sp difficult for them to learn, the letter of the law which they had broken was put in force to quicken their per- ceptions. They were to be punished indirectly for their other evil doings, and forced to surrender some portion 394 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4.. December. of the Tumumbered exactions wtich they had extorted from the helplessness of their flocks. In pursuance of this resolution, therefore, official notice "was issued in December, 1530, that the clergy lay all under a premimire, and that the Crown intended to prosecute. Convocation was to meet in the middle of January, and this comforting fact was communicated to the bishops in order to divert their at- tention to subjects which might profitably occupy their deliberations. The Church legislature had sat in the pre- ceding year contemporaneously with the sitting of Parlia- ment, at the time when their privileges were being discussed, and when their conduct had been so angrily challenged : but these matters had not disturbed their placid equanimity : and while the bishops were compos- ing their answer to the House of Commons, Convocation had been engaged ia debating the most promisiag means of persecuting heretics and preventiag the circulation of the Bible.' The session had contiaued iato the spring of 1529-30, when the King had been prevailed upon to grant an order in coimcil prohibiting Tyndale's Testa- ment, in the preface of which the clergy were spoken of disrespectfully.^ His consent had been obtained with 1 BuKNET, Tol. iii. p. 77. See a summary of the acts of this ConTo- catioa in a sermon of Latimer's preached before the two Houses in 1536. Latimek's Sermons, p. 45. 2 The King, considering what good might come of reading of the New Testament and following the same ; and what evil might come of the reading of the same if it were evil translated, and not followed ; came into the Star Chamber the five-and-twentieth day of May ; and then communed with his council and the prelates concerning the cause. And after long debating, it was alleged that the translations of Tyn- i dal and Joy were not truly trans- 1530- 1 ■] CHURCH AND STA TE. 295 great difiS.culty, on the representation of tlie bishops that the translation was faulty, and on their iindertaking themselves to supply the place of it with a corrected version. But ia obtaining the order, they supposed themselves to have gained a victory ; and their triumph was celebrated in St Paul's Churchyard with an auto da fe, over which the Bishop of London consented to pre- side; when such New Testaments as the diligence of the apparitors could discover, were solemnly burned. From occupation such as this a not unwholesome distraction was furnished by the intimation of the pre- munire ; and that it might produce its due effect, it was accompanied with the further iaformation that the clergy of the province of Canterbury would receive their pardon only upon pajrment of a hundred thousand pounds — a very considerable fine, amounting to more than a million of our money. Eighteen thousand pounds was required simultaneously from the province of York ; and the whole sum was to be paid in instalments spread over a period of five years.^ The demand was serious, but the clergy had no alternative but to submit or to risk the chances of the law ; and feehng that, with the people so unfavourably disposed towards them, they had no lated, and also that in them were prologues and prefaces that sounded unto heresy, and railed against the bishops uncharitably. "Wherefore all such books were prohibited, and commandment given by the King to the bishops, that they, calling to them the best learned men of the Universities, should cause a new translation to be made, so that the , people should not be ignorant of the law of God.— Hai.l, p. 771. And see Wakham's Register for the years 1529 — 1531. MS. Lambeth. ' 22 Hen. VIII. cap. 15. 296 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [en. 4. chance of a more equitable construction of their po- sition, they consented with a tolerable grace, the Upper House of ConTocation first, the Lower following. Their debates upon the subject have not been preserved. It was probably difficult to persuade them that they were treated with anything but the most exquisite injustice ; since Wolsey's legatine faculties had been the object of their general dread ; and if he had remained in power, the religious orders would have been exposed to a searching visitation in virtue of these faculties, from which they could have promised themselves but little advantage. But their punishment, if tyrannical in form, was equitable in substance, and we can reconcile ourselves without difficulty to an act of judicial confis- cation. The money, however, was not the only concession which the threat of the premunire gave opportunity to extort ; and it is creditable to the clergy that the de- mand which they showed most desire to resist was not that which most touched their personal interests. In the preamble of the subsidy bill, under which they were to levy their ransom, they were required by the council to designate the King by the famous title which gave occasion for such momentous consequences, of ' Protec- tor and only Supreme Head of the Church and Clergy of England.' * It is not very easy to see what February. ° ,.,„,.. Henry proposed to hunself by requiring this designation, at so early a stage in the movement. The ' BURHET, Tol. iii. p. 78. I530-1-] CHURCH AND STATE. 297 breach with, the Pope was still distant, and he was pre- pared to make many sacrifices before he ■would even seri- ously contemplate a step which he so little desired. It may have been designed as a reply to the Papal censures : it may have been to g^ve effect to his own menaces, which Clement to the last beKeved to be no more than words ; ^ or perhaps (and this is the most likely) he desired by some emphatic act, to make his clergy understand the relation in which thenceforward they were to be placed towards the temporal authority. It is certain only that this title was not intended to imply what it implied when, four years later, it was conferred by Act of Parliament, and when virtually England was severed by it from the Roman communion. But whatever may have been the King's motive, he was serious in requiring that the title should be granted to him. Only by acknowledging Henry as Head of the Church should the clergy receive their pardon, and the longer they hesitated, the more peremptorily he insisted on their obedience. The clergy had defied the lion, and the lion held them in his g^asp ; and they could but struggle helplessly, supplicate and submit. Archbishop "Warham, just drawing his life to a close, presided for the last time in the miserable scene, imagining that the clouds were gathering for the storms of the latter day, and that Antichrist was coming in his power. There had been a debate of three days, whether they should or should not consent, when, on the 9th of ' State Fapera, vol. lii. 457. 298 REIGN' OF HENR Y THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. February, a deputation of the judges appeared in Convocation, to ask whether the Houses were agreed, and to inform them finally that the King had de- termined to allow no qualifications. The clergy begged for one more day, and the following morning the bishops held a private meeting among themselves, to discuss some plan to turn aside the blow. They desired to see Crom- well, to learn, perhaps, if there was a chance of melting the hard heart of Henry ; and after an interview with the minister which could not have been encouraging, they sent two of their nimiber, the Bishops of Exeter and Liacoln, to attempt the unpromising task. It was in vain ; the miserable old men were obliged to return with the answer that the King would not see them — they had seen only the judges, who had assured them, in simple language, that the pardon was not to be settled until the supremacy was admitted. The answer was com- mimicated to the House, and again ' debated.' Submis- sion was against the consciences of the imhappy clergy; to obey their consciences involved forfeiture of property; and naturally in such a dilemma they found resolution difficult. They attempted another appeal, suggesting that eight of their number should hold a conference with the privy council, and 'discover, if they might, some possible expedient.' But Henry replied, as before, that he would have a clear answer, ' yes, or no.' They might say, ' yes,' and their pardon was ready. They might say ' no ' — and accept the premunire and its penalties. And now, what should the clergy have done ? No very great courage was required to answer, 'This thing is '530-I-] CHURCH AND STATE. 299 wrong ; it is against God's will, and therefore it must not be, whether premunire come or do not come.' They might haTC said it, and if they coiild have dared this little act of courage, victory was in their hands. "With the cause against them so doubtful, their very attitude would have commanded back the. sympathies of half the nation, and the King's threats would have exploded as an empty sound. But Henry knew the persons with whom he had to deal — forlorn shadows, decked in the trappings of dignity — who only by some such rough method could be brought to a knowledge of themselves. ' Shrink to the clergy ' — I find in a State paper of the time — ' Shrink to the clergy, and they be lions ; lay their faults roundly and charitably to them, and they be as sheep, and will lightly be reformed, for their consciences will not suffer them to resist.' ^ They hesitated for another night. The day ^^- i°- following, the Archbishop submitted the clause contain- ing the title to the Upper House, with a saving para- graph, which, as Burnet sententiously observes, the nature of things did reqtiire to be supposed.^ ' Ecclesiaj et cleri AngHoani,' so it ran, ' singularem protectorem, et unicima et supremum Dominum, et quantum per legem Christi Ucet, etiam supremum caput ipsius Majestatem agnoscimus — ^We recognize the King's Majesty to be our only sovereign lord, the singular protector of the Church and clergy of England, and as far as is allowed by the law of Christ, also as our Supreme Head.' The ' Memoranda relating to the Clergy : S.olh Some MS. ' BuBNET, vol. iii. p. 80. 300 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. words were read aloud by the Archbisliop, and were re- ceived in silence. ' Do you assent ? ' he asked. The House remained speechless. ' WhoeTer is silent seems to consent,' the Archbishop said. A voice answered out of the crowd, ' Then are we all silent.' They separated for a few hours to collect themselves. In the afternoon sitting they discussed the sufficiency of the subterfuge ; and at length agreeing that it saved their consciences, the clause was finally passed, the Bishop of Rochester, among the rest, giving his unwilling ac- quiescence. So for the present terminated this grave matter. The pardon was immediately submitted to Parliament, where it was embodied in a statute;^ and this act of dubious justice accomplished, the Convocation was al- lowed to return to its usual occupations, and continue the prosecutions of the heretics. The House of Commons, during their second session, had confined themselves meanwhile to secular business. They had been concerned chiefly with regulations af- ' The King's Highness, having always tender eyes with mercy and pity and compassion towards his spiritual subjects, minding of his high goodness and great benignity so always to impart the same unto them, as justice being duly admin- istered, all rigour bo excluded ; and the great benevolent minds of his said subjects [having been] largely and many times approved towards his Highness, and specially in their Convocation and Synod now pre- sently being in the Chapter House of Westminster, his Highness, of his said benignity and high liberality, in consideration that the said Convo- cation has given and granted unto him a subsidy of one hundred thou- sand pounds, is content to grant his general pardon to the clergy and the province of Canterbury, for all offences against the statute and pre- munire.— 22 Hen. VIII. cap. 15. »S30-i-] CHURCH AND STATE. 301 fecting trade and labour ; and tlie proceedings on tlie premunire being thougtt for the time to press suflB.- ciently on the clergy, they deferred the further prose- cution of their own complaints till the following year. Two measures, however, highly characteristic of the age, must not be passed over, one of which concerned a matter that must have added heavily to the troubles of the Bishop of Rochester at a time when he was in no need of any addition to his burdens. Fisher was the only one among the prelates for whom it is possible to feel respect. He was weak, superstitious, pedantical 5 towards the Protestants he was even cruel ; but he was a singlehearted man, who lived in honest fear of evil, so far as he understood what evil was ; and he alone could rise above the menaces of worldly suffering, imder which his brethren on the bench sank so Feb. 18. ■ rapidly into meekness and submission. We can therefore afford to compassionate him in the unexpected calamity by which he was overtaken, and which must have tried his failing spirit in no common manner. He lived, while his duties required his presence in London, at a house in Lambeth, and being a hospitable person, he opened his doors at the dinner hour for the poor of the neighbourhood. Shortly after the matter which I have just related, many of these people who were dependent on his bounty were reported to have become alarmingly ill, and several gentlemen of the household sickened also in the same sudden and startling manner. One of these gentlemen died, and a poor woman also died ; and it was discovered on inquiry that XEIGN' OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [cii. 4. the yeast which had been used in various dishes had been poisoned. The guilty person was the cook, a ciertaia Richard Rouse ; and inasmuch as all crimes might be presumed to have had motives, and the motive in the present instance was imdiscoA^erable, it was con- jectured by Queen Catherine's friends that he had been bribed by Anne Boleyn, or by some one of her party, to remove out of the vray the most influential of the Eng- lish opponents of the divorce.' The story was possibly ■without foimdation, although it is not unlikely that Fisher himself believed it. The shock of such an occur- rence may well have unsettled his powers of reasoning, and at all times he was a person whose better judgment was easily harassed into incapacity. The origin of the crime, however, is of less importance than the effect of the discovery upon the nation, in whom horror of the action itself absorbed every other feeling. Murder of ' this kind was new in England. , Ready as the people ever were with sword or lance — incurably given as they were to fighting in the best ordered times — an English- man was accustomed to face his enemy, man to man, in the open day ; and the Italian crime (as it was called) of poisoning had not till recent years been heard of.^ Even revenge and passion recognized their oviTi laws of honour and fair play ; and the cowardly ferocity which would work its vengeance in the, dark, and practise de- struction by wholesale to implicate one hated person in ' Bdenet, vol. i. p. 185. ^ An instance is reported in the Chronicle of the Grey Friars ten years previously. The punishment was the same as that which was sta- tutably enacted in the case of Rouse, , 1 530- 1 1 CHWi CH AND STA TE. 303 the catastropHe, was a new feature of criminality. Oc- ciirring in a time so excited, when all minds were on the stretch, and imaginations were feverish with fancies, it appeared like a frightful portent, some prodigy of nature, or enormous new birth of wickedness, not to be received or passed by as a common incident, and not to be dealt with by the process of ordinary law. Parliament under- took the investigation, making it the occasion, when the evidence was completed, of a special statute, so remark- able that I quote it in its detail and wording. The English were a stern people — a people knowing little of compassion where no lawful ground existed for it ; but they were possessed of an awful and solemn horror of evil things, — a feeling which, in proportion as it exists, inevitably and necessarily issues in tempers of iron. The stern man is ever the most tender when good re- mains amidst evU, and is still contending with it ; but we purchase compassion for utter wickedness only by doubting in our hearts whether wickedness is more than misfortune. ' The King's royal Majesty,' says the 9th of the 22nd of Henry VIII., ' calling to his most blessed remem- brance that the making of good and wholesome laws, and due execution of the same against the offenders thereof, is the only cause that good obedience and order hath been preserved in this realm ; and his Highness having most tender zeal for the same, considering that man's life above aU things is chiefly to be favoured, and voluntary murders most highly to be detested and ab- horred; and specially all kinds of murders by poisoning, 304 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [ch. 4. which in this realm hitherto, our Lord be thahked, hath been most rare and seldom committed or practised : and now, in the time of this present Parliament, that is to say, on the eighteenth day of February, in the twenty- second year of his most victorious reign, one Richard Rouse, late of Rochester, in the count}'' of Kent, cook, otherwise called Richard Cook, of his most wicked and damnable disposition, did cast a certain venom or poison into a vessel replenished with yeast or barm, standing in the kitchen of the reverend father in God, John Bishop of Rochester, at his place in Lambeth Marsh ; with which yeast or barm, and other things convenient, porridge or gruel was forthwith made for his family there being ; whereby not only the number of seventeen persons of his said family, which did eat of that porridge, were mortaUy infected or poisoned, and one of them, that is to say, Bennet Curwan, gentleman, is thereof deceased ; but also certain poor people which resorted to the said bishop's place, and were there charitably fed with the remains of the said porridge and other victuals, were in like wise infected ; and one poor woman of them, that is to say, Alice Tryppitt, widow, is also thereof now deceased: Our said sovereign lord the King, of his blessed disposition inwardly abhorring aU such abominable ofiences, because that in manner no person can live in surety out of danger of death by that means, if practices thereof should not be eschewed, hath ordained and enacted by authority of this present Parliament, that the said poisoning be adjudged and deemed as high treason ; and that the said Richard, for I530-I.] CHURCH AND STATE. 305 the said murder and poisoning of the said two persons, shall stand and he attainted of high treason. 'And hecause that detestahle offence, now newly practised and committed, reqnireth condign punishment for the same, it is ordained and enacted by authority of this present Parliament, that the said Hichard House shall be therefore boiled to death, without having any advantage of his clergy; and that from henceforth every wilfiil murder of any person or persons hereafter to be committed or done by means or way of poisoning, shall be reputed, deemed, and judged in the law to be high treason ; and that all and every person or persons which shall hereafter be indicted and condemned by order of the law of such treason, shall not be admitted to the benefit of his or their clergy, but shall be immedi- ately after such attainder or condemnation, committed to execution of death by boiling for the same/ The sentence was carried into effect ^ in Smithfield, 'on the tenebra Wednesday following, to the terrible example of all others.' The spectacle of a living human being boiled to death, was really witnessed three hundred years ago by the London citizens, within the walls of that old cattle-market ; an example terrible indeed, the significance of which is not easily to be exhausted. For the poisoners of the soul there was the stake,^ for the just men. I suppose, however, that, if the right persons could have heen detected, even the stake itself would not have heen too tremendous a pen- alty for the destroying of human souls 20 ^ Hall, p. 781. ' Most shocking when the wrong persons were made the victims ; and because clerical officials were alto- gether incapable of detecting the right persons, the memory of the practice has become abhorrent to all VOL. I. 3o6 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. poisoners of tlie body, the boiling cauldron, — tbe two most fearful punisbments for tbe most fearful of crim.es. Tbe stake at wbicb tbe beretic suffered was an inberited institution descending tbrougb tbe usage of centuries ; tbe poisoner's cauldron was tbe fresb expression of tbe judgment of tb« Englisb nation on a noTel enormity ; and I baye called attention to it because tbe tempfer wbicb tbis Act exbibits is tbe key to all wbicb bas seemed most dark and cruel in tbe rougb years wbicb followed ; a temper wbicb would keep no terms witb evil, or witb anytbing wbicb, rigbtly or wrongly, was beliered to be evil, but dreadfully and inexorably burried out tbe penalties of it. Following tbe statute against poisoning, tbere stands ' an Act for tbe banisbment out of tbe country of divers outlandisb and vagabond people called Egyptians ; ' ^ and attacbed to it anotber of analogous import, ' for tbe repression of beggars and vagabonds,' tbe number of wbom, it was alleged, was increasing greatly tbrougb- out tbe coimtry, and mucb crime and otber inconveni- ences were said to bave been occasioned by tbem. We may regatd tbese two measures, if we please, as a result of tbe energetic and reforming spirit in tbe Pa:rliament, wbicb was dragging into prominence all forms of ex- isting disorders, and devising remedies for tbose dis- orders. But tbey indicate sometbing more tban tbis : tbey point to tbe growtb of a disturbed and restless dis- position, tbe interruption of industry, and otber symp ' 22 Heu. VIII. cap. 10. I53I-] CHURCH AND STATE. 307 toms of approaching social confusion ; and at the same time they show us the Governnient conscious of the mo- mentous nature of the struggle into ■which it was launch- ed ; and with timely energy bracing up the sinews of the nation for its approaching trial. The Act against the gipsies, especially, illustrates one of the most remark- able features of the times. The air was impregnated with superstition; in a half-consciousness of the im- pending changes, aU men were listening with wide ears to rumours and prophecies and fantastic foreshadow- ings of the future ; and fanaticism, half deceiving and half itseK deceived, was grasping the lever of the po- pular excitement to work out its own ends.* The power which had ruled the hearts of mankind for ten centuries was shaking suddenly to its foundation. The Infallible guidance of the Church was failing ; its light gone out, or pronounced to be but a mere deceitful ignis fatuus ; ^nd men found themselves wandering in darkness, un- knowing where to turn or what to think or believe. It was easy to clamour against the spiritual courts. From men smarting under the barefaced oppression of that in- iquitous jurisdiction, the immediate outcry rose without ulterior thought; but unexpectedly the frail edifice of the Church itself threatened under the attack to crumble into ruins ; and many gentle hearts began to tremble and recoil when they saw what was likely to follow on ' See a very curious pampUet on this subject, by Sib Fbancis Pai.- GR AVE. It is called The Confessions of JRichard Sis/up, Robert Seymour, and Sir Edward Neville, before the Frivy Council, toueking Prophecie, Ne- cromancy, and Treaswre-trove. 3o8 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. their light beginnings. It "was true that the measures as yet taken by the Parliament and the Crown professed to be directed, not to the overthrow of the Church, but to the re-estabHshment of its strength. But the exult- ing triumph of the Protestants, the promotion of Lati- mer to a royal chaplaiacy, the quarrel with the Papacy, and a dim but sure perception of the direction in which the stream was flowing, foretold to earnest Catholics a widely different issue ; and the simplest of them knew better than the Court knew, that they were drifting from the sure moorings of the faith into the broad ocean of imcertainty. There seems, indeed, to be in re- ligious men, whatever be their creed, and however limit- ed their intellectual power, a prophetic faculty of in- sight into the true bearings of outward things, ^an insight which puts to shame the sagacity of statesmen, and claims for the sons of God, and only for them, the wisdom even of the world. Those only read the world's future truly who have faith in principle, as opposed to faith in human dexterity; who feel that in human things there lies really and truly a spiritual nature, a spiritual connection, a spiritual tendency, which the wis- dom of the serpent cannot alter, and scarcely can affect. Excitement, nevertheless, is no guarantee for the understanding ; and these instincts, powerful as they are, may be found often in minds wild and chaotic, which, although they vaguely foresee the future, yet have no power of sound judgment, and know not what they fore- see, or how wisely to estimate it. Their wisdom, if we may so use the word, combines crudely with any form of 1S3I] CHURCH AND STATE. 309 superstition or fanaticism. Thus in England, at the time of whicli we are speaking, Catholics and Protestants had alike their horoscope of the impending changes, each nearer to the truth than the methodical calculations of the statesmen; yet their foresight did not affect their convictions, or alter the temper of their hearts. They foresaw the same catastrophe, yet their faith stiU. coloured the character of it. To the one it was the advent of Antichrist, to the other the inauguration of the millen- niimi. The truest-hearted men on all sides were deserted by their understandings at the moment when their under- standings were the most deeply needed : and they saw the realities which were round them transfigured into phantoms through the mists of their hopes and fears. The present was significant only as it seemed ia labour with some gigantic issue, and the events of the outer world flew from lip to lip, taking as they passed every shape most wild and fantastical. Until ' the King's mat- ter ' was decided, there was no censorship upon speech, and all tongues ran freely on the great subjects of the day. Every parish pulpit rang with the divorce, or with the perils of the Catholic faith ; at every village ale-house, the talk was of St Peter's keys, the sacrament, or of the Pope's supremacy, or of the poiats in which a priest dif- fered from a la3anan. Ostlers quarrelled over such ques- tions as they groomed their masters' horses ; old women mourned across the village shopboards of the evil days which were come or coming ; while every kind of strang- est superstition, fairy stories and witch stories, stories of saints and stories of devils, were woven in and out and 310 REIGN OF HENRY THE klGHTW [CH. 4. to and fro, like quaint, bewildering arabesques, in tlie tissue of the general imagination.^ These were the forces which were working on the- surface of the English mind ; while underneath, availing themselves skilfully of the excitement, the agents of the disaffected among the clergy, or the friars mendicant, who to a man were devoted to the Pope and to Queen Catherine, passed up and down the country, denouncing the divorce, foretelliag ruin, disaster, and the wrath of God; and mingling with their prophecies more than dubious language on the near destruction or deposition of a prince who was opposing God and Heaven. The soil was manured by treason, and the sowers made haste to use their opportunity. Thus especially was there danger in those wanderiag encampments of ' outlandish people,' whose habits rendered them the ready-made missionaries of sedition ; whose swarthy features might hide a Spanish heart, and who in telling fortunes might readily dictate policy.^ Under the disguise of gipsies, the emissaries of the Emperor or the Pope might pass im- suspected from the Land's End to Berwick-upon-Tweed, penetrating the secrets of families, tying the links of the ' Miscellaneous Depositions on the State of the Country : UolU Souse MS. 2 See the Preamble of the Bill against conjurations, witchoraft, sor- ceries, and enchantments. — 33 Hen. VIII. cap. 8. Also ' the Bill touching Pro- phecies upon Arms and Badges.' — 33 Hen. Vlil. cap. 14. A similar edict espelled the gipsies from Germany. At the Diet of Spires, June 10, 1544. Statutum est ne vagahundum hominum genus quos Tulgo, Sarace- nos Tocant per Germaniam oherrare sinatur, usu enim eompertum est eos exploraiorea etproditores esse. — State Papers, vol. ix. p. 705. 1531-1 CHURCH AND STATE. 311 Catholic organization: and ia the later years of the struggle, as the iatrigues became more determined and a closer connection was established between the Conti- nental powers and the disaffected English, it became necessary to increase the penalty against these irregu- lar wanderers from banishment to death. As yet, how- ever, the milder punishment was held sufficient, and even this was imperfectly enforced.^ The tendencies to treasoa were still incipient — ^they were tendencies only, which had as yet shown themselves in no decisive acts ; the future was uncertain, the action of the Government doubtful. The aim was rather to calm, down the excite- ment of the people, and to extingxdsh with as little vio- lence as possible the means by which it was fed. Ominous symptoms of eccentric agitation, however, began to take shape in the confusion. A preacher, call- ing himself the favourite of the Virgiu Mary, had started up at Edinburgh, professiag miraculous powers of abstinence icoxa. food. This man was sent by James V. to Rome, where, after having been examined by Cle- ment, and having sufficiently proved his mission, he was furnished with a priest's habit and a certificate under leaden seal.^ Thus equipped he went a pilgrimage ta Jerusalem, and loaded himself with palm-leaves and with stones from the pillar at which Christ was scourged ; and from thence making his way to England, he ap- peared at Paul's Cross an evident saint and apostle, ' Ellis, first series, toI. ii. p. loi. ' Bulla pro Johanna Scot, qui sine cibo et potu per centum et sex dies vixerat. — Eymeb, toL tI. part 2, p. 176. 312 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. cursing tlie King and his divorce, denounciag his apo- stasy, and threatening the anger of Heaven. He was arrested and thrown into prison, where he remaiaed, as it was believed, fifty days without food, or fed in secret by the Virgin. At the close of the time the Govern- ment thought it prudent to send him back to Scotland, without further punishment.^ Another more famous prophetess was then in the zenith of her reputation — the celebrated Nun of Kent — . whose ceU at Canterbury, for some three years,' was the Delphic shrine of the Catholic oracle, from which the orders of Heaven were communicated even to the Pope himself. This singular woman seems for a time to have held in her hand the balance of the for times of England. By the Papal party she was universally believed to be inspired. Wolsey believed it, Warhara believed it, the bishops believed it. Queen Catherine beKeved it, Sir Thomas More's philosophy was no pro- tection to him against the same delusion ; and finally, she herself believed the world, when she found the world believed in her. Her story is a psychological curiosity ; and, interwoven as it was with the underplots of the time, we cannot observe it too accurately. In the year 1525, there lived in the parish of Ald- ington, in Kent, a certain Thomas Cobb, baUiff or stew- ard to the Archbishop of Canterbury, who possessed an estate there. Among the servants of this Thomas Cobb was a country girl called Elizabeth Barton — a decent Buchanan, History of Scoiland, vol. ii. p. 156. I53I-] CHURCH AND STATE. 31J person, so far as we can learn, but of mere ordinary character, and until that year having shown nothing unusual in her temperament. She was then attacked, however, by some internal disease ; and after many months of suffering, she was reduced into that abnormal and singular condition, in which she exhibited the phe- nomena known to modern wonder-seekers as those of somnambulism or clairvoyance. The scientific value of such phenomena is still undetermined, but that they are not purely imaginary is generally agreed. In the histories of aU countries and of all times, we are familiar with accounts of young women of bad health and irri- table nerves, who have exhibited at recurring periods certain unusual powers ; and these exhibitions have had especial attraction for superstitious persons, whether they have believed in God, or in the devil, or ia neither. A further feature also uniform in such cases, has been that a small element of truth may furnish a substructure for a considerable edifice of falsehood ; human credulity being always an insatiable faculty, and its powers being imlimited when once the path of ordinary experience has been transcended. "We have seen in our own time to what excesses occurrences of this kind may tempt the belief, even when defended with the armour of science. In the sixteenth century, when demoniacal possession was the explanation usually received even of ordinary insanity, we can well believe that the temptation must have been great to recognize supernatural agency in a manifest- ation far more uncommon ; and that the difficulty of retaining the judgment in a position of equipoise must 314 REIGN- OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [qh. 4. hare been, very great not only to the spectators but still more to the subject of the phenomenon herself. To sus- tain ourselves continuously under the influence, of reason, even when our faculties are, preserved in their natural balance, is a task too hard for most of us. We cannot easUy make too great allowance for the moral derange- ment likely to follow, when a weak girl suddenly found herself possessed of powers which she was unable to understand. Bearing this in mind, for it ia only just that we should do so, we continue the story. This Elizabeth Barton, then, ' in the trances, of which she had divers and many,'^ consequent upon her illness, told wondrously things done and said in other places whereat she was neither herself present, nor yet had heard no report thereof.' To simple-minded people who believed in Romanism and the legends of the saints, the natural explanation of such a marvel was, that she must be possessed either by the Holy Ghost or by the devil. The Archbishop's bailiff, not feeling himself able to decide in a case of so much gravity, called in the ad- vice of the parish priest, one Richard Masters ; and to- gether they observed carefully all that fell from her. The girl had been well disposed, as the priest probably knew. She had been brought up religiously ; and her mind running upon what was most familiar to it, ' she §pake words of marvellous holyness in rebuke of sin and vice ; ' ^ or, as another account says, ' she spake very godly certain things concerning the seven deadly sins ' Zefter of ArehhinJiop Cramner. — Ellis, second series, vol. iL p- 314. ^ Statutes of the Realm. 25 Hen. VIII. cap. 12. 1 531] CHURCH AND STATE. 315 and the Ten Commandments.' * This seemed satisfactory as to the source of the inspiration. It was clearly not a devil that spoke words against sin, and therefore, as there was no second alternative, it was plain that God had visited her. Her powers were assiiredly from heaven ; and it was plain, also, by a natural sequence of reasoning, that she held some divine commission, of which her clairvoyance was the miracle in attest- ation. An occurrence of such moment was not to be kept concealed in the parish of Aldington. The priest mounted his horse, and rode to Lambeth with the news to the Archbishop of Canterbury ; and the story having lost nothing of its marvel by the way,^ the Archbishop, who was fast sinking into dotage, instead of ordering a care- ful inquiry, and appointing some competent person to conduct it, listened with greedy interest; he assured Father Richard that ' the speeches which she had spoken came of God ; and bidding him keep him diligent account of all her utterances, directed him to inform her in his name that she was not to refuse or hide the goodness and works of God.' Cobb, the bailiff, being encouraged by such high authority, would not keep any longer in his kitchen a prophetess with the Archbishop's imprima- tur upon her ; and as soon as the girl was sufficiently recovered from her illness to leave her bed, he caused her to sit at his own mess with his mistress and the par- ' Extracts from a Narrative containing an Account of Elizabeth Barton : Molls Souse MS. ' Statutes of the Sealm. 3i6 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. son.^ The story spread rapidly through the country ; in- quisitive foolish people came about her to try her skill with questions ; and her illness, as she subsequently con- fessed, having then left her, and as only her reputation was remaining, she bethought herself whether it might not be possible to preserve it a little longer. ' Perceiv- ing herself to be much made of, to be magnified and much set by, by reason of trifling words spoken unad- visedly by idleness of her brain, she conceived in her mind that having so good success, and furthermore irom so small an occasion and nothing to be esteemed, she might adventure further to enterprise and essay what she could do, being in good advisement and remem- brance.' ^ Her fits no longer recurred naturally, but she was able to reproduce either the reality or the ap- pearance of them ; and she continued to improvise her oracles with such ability as she coxdd command, and with tolerable success. In this undertaking she was speedily provided with an efficient coadjutor. The Catholic Church had for some time been unproductive of miracles, and as heresy was raising its head and attracting converts, so oppor- tune an occurrence was not to be allowed to sleep. The Archbishop sent his comptroller to the Prior of Christ Church at Canterbury, with directions that two monks whom he especially named, Doctor Bocking, the ceUarer, and Dan William Hadley, should go to Aldington to observe.' At first, not knowing what was before them, I Rolls House MS. « Ibid. ' Suppression of the Monasteries, p. 19. I53I-] CHURCH AND STATE. 317 both, prior and monks were unwilling to meddle with, the matter.^ They submitted, however, ' from the obedi- ence which they owed unto their lord ; ' and they had soon reason to approve the correctness of the Arch- bishop's judgment. Bocking, selected no doubt from previous knowledge of his qualities, was a man devoted to his order, and not over- scrupulous as to the means by which he furthered the interests of it. With instinctive perception he discovered material in Elizabeth Barton too rich to be permitted to waste itself in a country village. Perhaps he partially himself believed in her, but he was more anxioiis to ensure the belief of others, and he therefore set himself to assist her inspiration towards more effective utterance. Conversing with her in her intervals of quiet, he discovered that she was wholly ignorant, and improvided with any stock of mental or imaginative furniture ; and that consequently her pro- phecies were without body, and too indefinite to be theologically available. This defect he remedied by instructing her in the Catholic legends, and by acquaint- ing her with the revelations of St Brigitt and St Cathe- rine of Sienna.^ In these women she found an enlarged reflection of herself; the details of their visions enriched her imagery ; and being provided with these fair ex- amples, she was able to shape herself into fuller re- semblance with the traditionary model of the saints. As she became more proficient, Father Bocking ex- ' Suppression of the Monasteries, p. 19. 2 rroceedings connected with Elizabeth Barton : Soils Souse M8, 31 8 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [ch. 4. tended his lessons to the Protestant controversy, initiat- ing his pupil into the mysteries of justification, sacra- mental grace, and the power of the keys. The ready damsel redelivered his instructions to the world in her moments of possession ; and the world discovered a fresh miracle in the inspired wisdom of the untaught peasant. Lists of these pregnant sayings were forwarded* regu- larly to the Archbishop, which stiU possibly lie moulder- ing in the Lambeth library, to be discovered by curious antiquaries. It is idle to inquire how far she was yet conscious of her falsehood. Conscious wilful deception lies far down the road in a course of this kind ; and supported by the assurance of an archbishop, she was in all likelLhood deep in lying before she actually knew it. Fanaticism and deceit are strangely near relations to each other, and the deceiver is often the person first de- ceived, and the last who is aware of the imposture. The instructions of the Father had "made her ac- quainted with many stories of miraculous cures. The Catholic saints followed the type of the apostles, and to heal diseases by supernatural means was a more orthodox form of credential than clairvoyance or second sight. Being now cured of her real disorder, yet able to coun- terfeit the appearance of it, she could find no difiB.culty in arranging in her own case a miracle of the established kind, and so striking an incident would answer a further end. In the parish was a chapel of the Virgin, which was a place of pUgrimage ; the pilgrims added some- 25 H«n. VIII. cap. 12. IS3I-] CHURCH AND STATE. 319 thing to the income of the priest ; and if, by a fresh demonstration of the Virgin's presence at the favoured spot, the numher of these pilgrims coidd he increased, they would add more. For both reasons, therefore, the miracle was desired ; and the priest and the monk were agreed that any means were justifiable which would en- courage the devotion of the people.*^ Accordingly, the girl announced, in one of her trances, that ' she would never take health of her body till such time as she had visited the image of our Lady' in that chapel. The Virgin had herself appeared to her, she said, and had fixed a day for her appearance there, and had promised that on her obedience she would present herself in per- son and take away her disorder.^ The day came ; and as (under the circumstances) there was no danger of failure, the holy fathers had collected a vast concourse of people to witness the marvel. The girl was conducted to the chapel by a procession of more than two thousand persons, headed by the monk, the clergyman, and many other religious persons, the whole multitude ' singiag the litany and saying divers psalms and orations by the way.' ' And when she was brought thither' and laid before the image of our Lady, her face was wonderfully dis- figured, her tongue hanging out, and her eyes being in a manner plucked out and laid upon her cheeks, and so greatly deformed. There was then heard a voice speak- ing within her belly, as it had been in a tonne, her lips • 25 Hen. VIII. cap. 12. ' Ibid. • Cranma's Letter, Ellis, third series, vol. iii. p. 315. 320 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. not greatly moving : she all that while continuing by the space of three hours or more in a trance. The which voice, when it told of anything of the joys of heaven, spake so sweetly and so heavenly, that every man was ravished with the hearing thereof; and con- trarywise, when it told anything of hell, it spake so hor- rihly and terribly, that it put the hearers in a great fear. It spake also many things for the confirmation of pil- grimages and trentals, hearing of masses and confession, and many other such thiags. And after she had lyen there a long time, she came to herself again, and was perfectly whole. So this miracle was finished and so- lemnly sung ; and a book was written of aU the whole story thereof, and put into print ; which ever since that time was commonly sold, and went abroad among the people.' The miracle successfully accomplished, the residence at .Aldington was no longer adapted for an acknow- ledged and favoured saint. The Virgin informed her that she was to leave the baUifiT and devote herself to her exclusive service. She was to be Sister Elizabeth, and her especial favourite ; and Father Booking was to be her spiritual father. The Priory of St Sepulchre's, Canterbury, was chosen for the place of her profession ; and as soon as she was established ia her cell, she be- came a recognized priestess or prophetess, alternately communicating revelations, or indulging the curiosity of foolish persons, and for both services consenting to be paid. The Church had by this time spread her reputation through England. The book of her oracles. IS3I.] CHURCH AND STATE. 321 whicli extended soon to a considerable volume, was shown by Arcbbishop "Warliam to tbe King, who sent it to Sir Thomas More, desiring him to look at it. More's good sense had not yet forsaken him ; he pronounced it ' a right poor production, such as any simple woman might speak of her own wit ; ' ' and Henry himself ' esteemed the matter as light as it afterwards proved lewd.' But the world were less critical censors : the saintly halo was round her head, and her most trivial words caught the reflection of the glory, and seemed divine. ' Divers and many, as well great men of the realm as mean men, and many learned men, but specially many religious men, had great confidence in her, and often resorted to her.' ^ They ' consulted her much as to the wiU of God touching the heresies and schisms in the realm ; ' and when the dispute arose between the bishops and the House of Commons, they asked her what judgment there was in heaven ' on the taking away the liberties of the Church ; ' to which questions her answers, being dictated by her confessor, were all which the most eager Churchman could desire. Her position becoming more and more determined, the eccentric periods of her earlier visions subsided into regidarity. Once a fort- night she was taken up into heaven into the presence of God and the saints, with heavenly lights, heavenly voices, heavenly melodies and joys. The place of ascent was usually the priory chapel, to which it was essential, therefore, that she should have continual access : and More to Croimrell : Bubnet's Collectanea, p. 350. 2 25 Hen. VIII. cap. 12. 21 322 REIGN, OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. she was allowed, in consequence, to pass tte dormitory door when she pleased — a privilege of which the Statute uncharitably hints that she availed herself for a less respectable purpose. But whatever was her secret con- duct, her outward behaviour was in full keeping with her language and profession. She related many start- ling stories, not always of the most decent kind, of the attempts which the devil made to lead her astray. The devil and the angels were in fact alternate visitors to her cell, and the former, on one occasion, burnt a mark upon her hand, which she exhibited publicly, and to which the monks were in the habit of appealing, when there were any signs of scepticism in the visitors to the priory. On the occasion of these infernal visits, ' great stinking smokes ' were seen to issue from her chamber, ' savouring grievously through all the dorture ; ' with which, however, it was suspected subsequently that a paper of brimstone and assafoetida, found among her property after her arrest, had been in some way con- nected. We smile at these stories, looking back at them with eyes enlightened by scientific scepticism ; but they furnished matter for something else than smiles when the accounts of them could be exhibited by the clergy as a living proof of the credibility of the Aurea Legenda, — when the subject of them coxdd be held up as a witness, accredited by miracles, to the truth of the old faith, a living evidence to shame the incredulity of the Protestant sectaries. She became a figure of great and siagular significance ; a ' wise woman,' to whom persons of the highest rank were not ashamed to have recourse to IS3I-] CHURCH AMD STA TE. 323 inquire of her the wiH of God, and to ask the benefit of her intercessory prayers, for which also they did not fail to pay at a rate commensurate with their credulity. "^ This position the Nun of Kent, as she was now called, had achieved for herself, when the divorce question was first agitated. The monks at the Canterbury priory, of course, eagerly espoused the side of the Queen, and the Nun's services were at once in active requisition. Ab- surd as the stories of her revelations may seem to us, she had already given evidence that she was no vulgar im- postor, and in the dangerous career on which she now entered, she conducted herself with the utmost skill and audacity. Far from imitating the hesitation of the Pope and the bishops, she issued boldly, ' in the name and by the authority of God,' a solemn prohibition against the King; threatening that, if he divorced his wife, he should not 'reign a month, but should die a villain's death.'' Burdened with this message, she forced herself into the ^ Confessions of Elizabeth Bar- ton : Rolls Souse MS. Sir Thomas More gave her a double ducat to pray for him and his. Bdknet's Collectanea, p. 352. Moryson, in his Apomaxis, declares that she had » regular understanding with the confessors at the Priory. When penitents came to confess, they were detained while a priest conveyed what they had acknowledged to the Nun; and when afterwards they were admitted to her presence, she amazed them with repeating their own confessions. 2 The said Elizabeth subtilly and craftily conceiving the opinion and mind of the said Edward Book- ing, willing to please him, revealed and showed unto the said Edward that God was highly displeased with our said sovereign lord the King for this matter ; and in ease he de- sisted not from his proceeding in the said divorce and separation, but pur- sued the same and married again, that then within one month after such marriage, he should no longer bo King of this realm ; and in the reputation of Almighty God he 324 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. presence of Henry himself;* and when she failed to produce an effect upon Henry's obdurate scepticism, she turned to the hesitating ecclesiastics, and roused their flagging spirits. The Archbishop bent under her de- nunciations, and at her earnest request introduced her to Wolsey, then tottering on the edge of ruin.^ He, too, in his confusion and perplexity, was frightened, and doubted. She made herself known to the Papal ambas- sadors, and through them she took upon herself to threaten Clement,' assuming, in virtue of her divine should not be a king one day , nor one hour, and that he should die a villain's death. Saying further, that there was a root with three branches, and till they were plucked up it should never be merry in England : interpreting the root to be the late Lord Cardinal, and the first branch to be the King our Sovereign lord, the second the Duke of Norfolk, the third the Duke of Suffolk. — 25 Hen. VIII. cap. 12. ^ Eevelations of Elizabeth Bar- ton : Molls House MS. In the epit- ome of the book of her Revelations it is stated that there was a story in it ' of an angel that appeared, and bade the Nun go unto the King, that infidel prince of England, and say that I command him to amend his life, and that he leave three things which he loveth and ponder- eth upon, i.e., that he take none of the Pope's right nor patrimony from him ; the second, that he destroy all these new folks of opinion and the works of their new learning; the third, that if he married and took Anne to wife, the vengeance of God should plague him ; and as she sayth she shewed this unto the King.' — Paper on the Nun of Kent : MS. Cotton. Cleopatra, E 4. '^ Ellis, third series, vol.ii. p. 137. Warham had promised to marry Henry to Anne Boleyn. The Nun frightened him into a refusal by a pretended message from an angel. — MS. ibid. 2 The Nun bath practised with two of the Pope's ambassadors within this realm, and hath sent to the Pope that if he did not his duty in reformation of kings, God would destroy him at a certain day which he had appointed. By reason where- of it is supposed that the Pope hath showed himself so double and so deoeivable to the King's Grace in his great cause of marriage as he hath done, contrary to all truth, just- ice and equity; As likewise the late Cardinal of England, and the Arch- IS3I-] CHURCH AND STA TE. 32s commission, an authority above all principalities and powers. If it were likely that she could have heard the story of the Maid of Orleans, it might be supposed that her imagination tempted her to play again a similar career on an English stage, and that she fancied herself the destined saviour of the Church of Christ, as the Maid had been the saviour of France. It would indeed be a libel on the fair fame of Joan of Arc, if she were to be compared to a confessed im- postor ; but Joan of Arc might have been the reality which the If un attempted to counterfeit ; and the history of the true heroine might have suggested easily to the imitator the outline of her part. A revolution had been effected in Europe by a somnambulist peasant girl ; another peasant girl, a somnambulist also, might have seen in the achievement which had been already accom- .plished, an earnest of what might be done by herself. While we call the Nun, too, an impostor, we are bound to believe that she first imposed upon herself, and that her wildest adventures into falsehood were compatible with a belief that she was reaUy and truly inspired. Nothing short of such a conviction would have enabled her to play a part among kings and queens, and so many of the ablest statesmen of that most able age. Nothing else could have tempted her, on the failure of bishop of Canterbury, being very well-minded to further and set at an end the marriage which the King's Grace now enjoyeth, according to their spiritual duty, were prevented by the false revelations of the said Nun. And that the said Bishop of Canterbury was so minded may be proved by divers which knew then his towardness. — Narrative of the Proceedings of Elizabeth Barton: Molls Souse MS. 326 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. ]ier prophecies, into the desperate career of treason into which we are soon to see her launched. Her proceedings were known partially, but partially only, to the King ; and the King seems to have been the only person whose understanding was proof against her influence. To him she appeared nothing worse than an excited fanatic, and he allowed her to go her own way, as the best escapement of a frenzy. Until Parlia- ment had declared it illegal to discuss the marriage question further, he interfered with no one, and there- fore not with her. If her own word was to be taken, he even showed her much personal kindness, having ofiered to make her an abbess, which is difficult to be- lieve, especially as she said that she had refused his offer. She stated also that at the time of Lord Wilt- shire's mission to the Emperor, the Countess of Wilt- shire endeavoured to persuade her to accept a place at the Court, as a companion to Anne ; which again is un- supported by other evidence, and sounds improbable.* But it is plain, that until she was found to be meditat- ing treason, she experienced no treatment from the Government of which she had cause to complain ; and thus for the present we may leave her pursuing her machinations with the Canterbury friars, and return to the Parliament. The second session had been longer than the first ; it had commenced on the i6th of January, and March 30. . , . '' contmued ior ten weeks. On the 30th of ' Note of the Eevelations of Elizabeth Barton ; UmIU House MS. 'S3I.] CHURCH AND STATE. 327 March, whicli was to be its last day, Sir Thomas More came dovm to the House of Comm.ons, and there read aloud to the members the decision of the various univer- sities on the Papal power, and the judgment of European learning on the general question of the King's divorce. The country, he said, was much disturbed, and the Kiag desired them each to report what they had heard in. their several counties and towns, ' in order that all men might perceive that he had not attempted this matter of his own will or pleasure, as some strangers reported, but only for the discharge of his conscience and surety of the succession of his realm.' ' This appears to have been the first time that the subject was mentioned before Parlia- ment, and the occasion was reasonably and sensibly chosen. The clergy having possession of the pulpits, had used their opportunity to spread a false impression where the ignorance of the people would allow them to venture the experiment; the King having resolved to faU. back upon the support of his subjects, naturally desired the assistance of the country gentlemen and the nobles to counteract the efforts of disaffection, and provided them with accurate information in the simplest manner which he could have chosen. But the desire expressed by Henry was no more than an unnecessary form, for, as a body, the educated laity were as earnestly bent upon the divorce as the Bang himself could be, and might have been trusted to use all m:ans by which to further it. The Parliament was ' Hall, .p. 780. 328 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. prorogued, but the Lords, shortly after the separation, united with such of the Commons as remained in London, to give a proof of their feeling by a voluntary address to the Pope. The meaning of this movement was not to be mistaken. On one side, the Nun of Kent was threatening Clement, speaking, perhaps, the feelings of the clergy and of all the women in England ; on the other side, the Parliament thought well to threaten him, speaking for the great body of English men, for all per- sons of substance and property, who desired above all things peace and order and a secured succession. The language of this remarkable document ^ was as follows : — ' To the Most Holy Lord our Lord and Father in Christ, Clement, by Divine Providence, the seventh of that name, we desire perpetual hap- piness in our Lord Jesus Christ. ' Most blessed Father, albeit the cause concerning the July 13. ' Rtmer, vol. vi. p. 160. We are left to collateral evidence to fix the place of this petition, the official transcriber having contented him- self with the substance, and omitted the date. The original, as appears from the Pope's reply (Lokd Hek- BEKT, p. 145), bore the date of July 1 3 ; and unless a mistake was made in transcribing the papal brief, this w^as July, 1530. I have ventured to assume a mistake, and to place the petition in the following year, be- cause the judgment of the univer- sities, to which it refers, was not completed till the winter of 1530; they were not read in parliament till March 30, 1531 ; and it seems unlikely that a petition of so great moment would have been presented on an incomplete case, or before the additional support of the House of Commons had been secured. I am far from satisfied, however, that I am right in making the change. The petition must have been drawn up (though it need not have been presented) in 1530; since it bears the signature of Wolsey, who died in the November of that year. 1531-] CHURCH AND STATE. 329 marriage of the most inTincible prince, our sovereign lord, the King of England and of France, Defender of the Faith, and Lord of Ireland, does for sundry great and iveighty reasons require and demand the aid of your Holiness, that it may be brought to that brief end and determination which we with so great and earnest desire have expected, and which we have been contented hitherto to expect, though so far vainly, at your Holi- ness's hands ; we have been unable, nevertheless, to keep longer silence herein, seeing that this kingdom and the affairs of it are brought into so high peril through the unseasonable delay of sentence. His Majestj'-, who is our head, and by consequence the life of us all, and we through him as subject members by a just union an- nexed to the head, have with great earnestness entreated your Holiness for judgment; we have however entreated in vain : we are by the greatness of our grief therefore forced separately and distinctly by these our letters most htimbly to demand a speedy determination. There ought, indeed, to have been no need of this request on our part. The justice of the cause itself, approved to be just by the sentence of so many learned men, by the suffrage of the most famous universities in England, France, and Italy, should have sufficed alone to have induced your Holiness to confirm the sentence given by others ; especi- ally when the interests of a king and kingdom are at stake, which in so many waj's have deserved well of the apostolic see. This we say ought to have been motive sufficient with you, without need of petition on our part ; and if we had added our entreaties it should have been 330 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4, but as men yielding to a causeless anxiety, and wasting words for wHcli there was no occasion. Since, however, neither the merit of the cause nor the recollection of the benefits which you have received, nor the assiduous and diligent supplications of our prince, have availed any- thing with your Holiness ; since we cannot obtain from you what it is your duty as a father to grant ; the load of oiir grief, increased as it is beyond measure by the remembrance of the past miseries and calamities which have befallen this nation, makes vocal every member of oiir commonwealth, and compels us by word and letter to utter our complaints. 'For what a misfortune is this, — that a sentence which our own two universities, which the University of Paris, and many other universities in France, which m^en of the highest learning and probity everywhere, at home and abroad, are ready to defend with word and pen, that such sentence, we say; cannot be obtained from the apostolic see by a prince to whom that see owes its present existence. Amidst the attacks of so many and so powerful enemies, the King of England ever has stood by that see with sword and pen, with voice and with authority. Yet he alone is to reap no benefit from his labours. He has saved the Papacy from ruin, that others might enjoy the fruits of the life which he has preserved for it. "We see not what answer can be made to this ; and meanwhile we perceive a flood of miseries impend- ing over the commonwealth, threatening to bring back iipon us the ancient controversy on the succession, which had been extinguished only with so much blood and I53I] CHURCH AND STATE. 331 slaughter. We have now a King most eminent for his Tirtues, and reigning by nnchallenged. title, who will secure assured tranquillity to the realm if he leave a son born of his body to succeed him. The sole hope that such a son may be born to him lies iu the being foimd for him some lawful marriage iato which he may enter ; and to such marriage the only obstacle lies with your Holiness. It cannot be until you shall confirm the sentence of so many learned men on the character of his former connection. This if you will not do, if you who ought to be our father have determined to leave us as orphans, and to treat us as castaways, we shall interpret such conduct to mean only that we are left to caro for ourselves, and to seek our rem^edy elsewhere. We do not desire to be driven to this extremity, and therefore we beseech your HoHness without further delay to assist his Majesty's just and reasonable desires. We entreat you to confirm the judgment of these learned men ; and for the sake of that love and fatherly afiecticn which your ofiice requires you to show towards us, not to close your bowels of compassion against us, your most dutiful, most loving, most obedient children. The cause of his Majesty is the cause of each of ourselves ; the head can- not sufier, but the members must bear a part. We have aU. our common share in the pain and in the injury ; and as the remedy is wholly in the power of your Holi- ness, so does the duty of your fatherly office require you to administer it. If, however, your Holiness will not do this, or if you choose longer to delay to do it, our condi- tion hitherto will have been so much the more wretched. 332 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. that we have so long laboured fruitlessly and in vain. But it will not be wholly irremediable ; extreme reme- dies are ever harsh of application ; but he that is sick will by any means be rid of his distemper ; and there is hope in the exchange of miseries, when, if we cannot obtain what is good, we may obtain a lesser evil, and trust that time may enable us to endure it. ' These things we beseech your Holiness, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to consider with your- self. You profess that on earth you are His vicar; Endeavour, then, to show yourself so to be, by pro- nouncing your sentence to the glory and praise of God, and giving your sanction to that truth which has been examined, approved, and after much deliberation con- iirmed, by the most learned men of all nations. AVe meanwhile will pray the all- good God, whom we know by most sure testimony to be truth itself, that He will deign so to inform and direct the counsels of your Holi- ness, that we obtaining by your authority what is holj^ just, and true, may be spared from seeking it by other more painful methods.' Thus was the great crisis steadily maturing itself, and the cause by this petition was made to rest upon its proper merits. The justification of the demand for the divorce was the danger of civil war ; and into civil war the nation had no intention of permitting themselves to be drifted by Papal imbecility. Whatever was the origin of Henry's resolution, it was acted out with calm- ness, and justified by sober reason ; and backed by the good sense of his lay subjects, he proceeded bravely, in 'S3I-] CHURCH AND STATE. 333 spite of excommunication, interdict, and the Nun of Kent, towards the object which his country's interests, as well as his own, required. It would have been well if his private behaviour as a man had been as unobjectionable as his conduct as a sovereign. Hitherto he had remained under the same roof with Queen Catherine, but with that indelicacy which was the singular blemish on his character, he had maintained her rival in the same household with the state of a princess,^ and needlessly wounded feelings which he was bound to have spared to the utmost which his duty permitted. The circumstances of the case, if they were known to us, though they could never excuse such a proceeding, might perhaps partially palliate it. Catherine was harsh and offensive, and it was by her own determination, and not by Henry's desire, that she was unprovided with an establishment elsewhere. There lay, moreover, as I have said, behind the scenes a whole drama of contention and bitterness, which now is happily concealed from us ; but which being concealed, leaves us without the clue to these paiaful doings. Indelicate, however, the position given to Anne Boleyn could not but be ; and, if it was indelicate in Henry to grant ' Mademoiselle de Boleyn est venue ; et 'a le Eoy logee en fort beau logis ; et qu'il a faict bien ac- coustrer tout aupres du sien. Et luy est la cour faicte ordinairement tous les jours plus grosse que de long temps elle ne fut faicte a la Eoyne. Je crois bien qu'on veult accontumer par les petie ce peuple i I'endurer, afin que quand ivendra ^ donner les grands coups, il ne les trouve si es- trange. Toutefois il demeure tons jours endurcy, et croy bien qu'il feroit plus qu'il ne faict si plus il avoit de puissance ; mais grand ordre se donne par tout. — Bishop of Bay- onne to the Grand Master: Le- GBAND, Yol. iii. p. 231. 334 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. such a. position, what shall we say of the lady who con- sented, in the presence of her soyereign and mistress, to wear such ignominious splendour ? But in these most offensive relations there was hence- forth to be a change. In June, 153 ^j ^^^ months after the prorogation of Parliament, a deputation of the privy council went to the apartments of Catherine at Greenwich, and laying before her the papers which had been read by Sir Thomas More to the two Houses, demanded formally, whether, for the sake of the country, and for the quiet of the Kiag's conscience, she would withdraw her appeal to Rome, and submit to an arbitration ia the kingdom. It was, probably, but an official request, proposed without expectation that she would yield. After rejecting a similar entreaty from the Pope himself, she was not likely, inflexible as she had ever been, to yield when the Pope had admitted her appeal, and the Emperor, victorious through Europe, had pro- mised her support. She refused, of course, like herself, proudly, resolutely, gallantly, and not without the scorn which she was entitled to feel. The nation had no claims upon her, and 'for the King's conscience,' she answered, ' I pray God send his Grace good quiet therein, and tell him I say I am his lawful wife, and to him lawfully married ; and in that point I will abide till the Court of Rome, which was privy to the begin- ning, hath made thereof a determination and a final ending.'^ The learned councillors retired with their ' IIall, p. 781. IS3I-] CHURCH AND STATE. 335 July. answer. A more passive resistance would have been more dignified ; but Catherine was a queen, and a queen she chose to be ; and in defence of her own high honour, and of her daughter's, by no act of hers would she abate one tittle of her dignity, or cease to assert her claim to it. Her reply, however, appears to have been anticipatedj and the request was only preparatory to ulterior mea- sures. For the sake of public decency, and certainly in no unkind spirit towards herself, a retirement from the Court was now to be forced upon her. At Midsummer she accompanied the King to Windsor ; in the middle of July he left her there, and never saw her again. She was removed to the More, a house in Hertfordshire, which had been originally built by George Neville, Archbishop of York, and had belonged to Wol- sey, who had maintained it with his usual splendour.^ Once more an attempt was made to persuade her to submit ; but with no better result, and a formal estab- lishment was then provided for her at Ampthill, a largo place belonging to Henry not far from Dunstable. There at least she was her own mistress, surrounded by her own friends, who were true to her" as Queen, and she attracted to her side from all parts of England those whom sympathy or policy attached to her cause. The Court, though keeping a partial surveillance over her, did not dare to restrict her liberty ; and as the mea- sures against the Church became more stringent, and a " It seems to have been his faTourite place of retirement. The garJens and fishponds were peculiarly elaborate and beautiful. — Sir John Russell to Cromwell: MS. State Taper Office. 335 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. IcH. 4. separation from tlie Papacy more nearly imminent, she became the nucleus of a powerful political party. Her injuries had deprived the King and the nation of a right to complain of her conduct.. She owed nothing to Eng- land. Her allegiance, politically, was to Spaiu ; spirit- ually she was the subject of the Pope ; and this dubious position gave her an advantage which she was not slow to perceive. Rapidly every one rallied to her who ad- hered to the old faith, and to whom the measures of the Government appeared a sacrilege. Through herself, or through her secretaries and confessors, a correspondence was conducted which brought the Courts of the con- tinent into connection with the various disaffected parties in England, with the Nun of Kent and her friars, with the Poles, the Nevilles, the Courtenays, and all the re- maining faction of the White Rose. And so first the great party of sedition began to shape itself, which for sixty years, except in the shortlived interlude of its triumph under Catherine's daughter, held the nation on the edge of civil war. We shall see this faction slowly and steadilj' organizing itself, starting from scattered and small beginnings, till at length it overspread all Eng- land and Ireland and Scotland, exploding from time to time in abortive insurrections, yet ever held in check by the tact and firmness of the Government, and by the in- herent loyalty of the English to the land of their birth. There was a proverb then current that ' the treasons of England should never cease.'* It was perhaps fortunate ' Also it is a proverb of old date—' The pride of France, the treason of 1 531] CHURCH AND STATE. 337 that the Papal cause was the cause of a foreign power, and could only be defended by a betrayal of the inde- pendence of the country. In Scotland and Ireland the insurrectionists were more successful, being supported in either instance by the national feeling. But the strength of Scotland had been broken at Flodden ; and Ireland, though hating 'the Saxons' with her whole heart, was far off and divided. The true danger was at home ; and when the extent and nature of it is fairly Itnown and weighed, we shall understand better what is called the ' tyranny ' of Henry'VIII. and of Elizabeth ; and rather admire the judgment than condemn the resolution which steered the country safe among those dangerous shoals. Elizabeth's position is more familiar to us, and is more reasonably appreciated because the danger was more palpable. Henry has been hardly judged because he trampled down the smouldering fire, and never allowed it to assume the form which would have justified him with the foolish and the unthinking. Once "and once only the flame blazed out ; but it was checked on the instant, and therefore it has been slighted and forgotten. But with despatches before his eyes, in which Charles V, was offering James of Scotland the hand of the Princess Mary, with the title for himself of Prince of England and Duke of York ^ — with Ireland, England, and the war of Ireland, shall never have end.' — State Papers, vol. ii. p. II. ' There was a secret ambassador with the Scots King from the Em- perour, who had long communicated with the King alone in his privy chamber. Andafter the ambassador's departure the King, coming out into his outer chamber, said to his chan- cellor and the Earl Bothwell, ' My lords, how much are we boanden VOL. I 22 338 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. as Tve shall speedily see it, in flame from end to end, and Dublin castle tte one spot left within the island on ■which the banner of St George still floated — with a corps of friars in hair shirts and chaias, who are also soon to be introduced to us, and an inspired prophetess at their head preaching rebellion in the name of God — with his daughter and his daughter's mother in league against him, some forty thousand clergy to be coerced into honest dealing, and the succession to the crown floating in uncertainty; — finally, with excommunication hanging over himself, and at length falling, and his deposition pronounced, — ^Henry, we may be sure, had no easy time of it, and po common work to accomplish; and all these things ought to be present before our minds, as they were present before his mind, if we would see him as he was, and judge him as we would be judged ourselves. Leaving disaflection to mature itself, we return to the struggle between the House of Commons and the bishops, which recommenced ia the following winter; first pausing to notice a clerical iaterlude of some illus- trative importance which took place ia the close of the summer. The clergy, as we saw, were relieved of their premunire on engaging to pay 118,000 pounds within imto the Emperoiir that in the matter conceruing our style, which so long he hath set about for our honour, that shall be by him dis- cussed oa Easter day, and that we may lawfully write ourself Prince of England and Duke of York." To which the chancellor said, ' I pray God the Pope confirm the same.' The Scots King answered, ' Let the Emperour alone.'— Earl of North- umberland to Henry VIII. : State Papers, vol. iv. p. 599. 1531.] CHURCH AND STATE. 339 five years. They were pimislied for their general offences ; the formal offence for which they were con- demned heing one which could not fairly be considered an offence at all. When they came to discuss therefore the manner in which the money was to be levied, they naturally quarrelled among themselves as to where the burden of the fine should fairly rest, and a little scene has been preserved to us by HaU, through which, with momentary distinctness, we can look in upon those poor men in their perplexity. The bishops had settled among themselves that each diocese should make its own ar- rangements ; and some of these great persons intended to spare their own shoulders to the utmost decent ex- tremity. With this object, Stokesley, Bishop of London, who was just then very busy burning heretics, and there- fore in bad odour with the people, resolved to call a meeting of five or six of his clergy, on whom he coidd depend ; and passing quietly with their assistance such resolutions as seemed convenient, to avoid in this way the more doubtful expedient of a large assembly. The necessary intimations were given, and the meet- ing was to be held on the ist of September, in the Chapter-house^of St Paul's. The Bishop arrived at the time appointed, but unhappily for his hopes, not only the chosen six, but with them six hun- dred of the clergy of Middlesex, accompanied by a mob of the London citizens, all gathered in a crowd at the Chapter-house door, and clamouring to be admitted. The Bishop, trusting in the strength of the chains and bolts, and still hoping to manage the affair officially. 340 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [cm. 4. Bent out a list of persons who might be allowed to take part in the proceedings, and these with difiictdty made their way to the entrance. A rush was made hy the others as they were going ia, and there was a scuffle, which ended for the moment in the victory of the officials; but the triumph was of brief duration; the excluded clergy were now encouraged by the people ; they returned vigorously to the attack, broke down the doors, ' struck the Bishop's officers over the face,' and the whole crowd, priests and laity, rushed together, stofmiag and shouting, into the Chapter-house. The scene may be easily imagined; dust flying, gowns torn, heads broken, well-fed faces in the hot September weather steaming with anger and exertion, and every voice in loudest outcry. At length the clamour was partially subdued, and the Bishop, beautifully equal to the emer- gency, arose bland and persuasive. ' My brethren,' he said, ' I marvel not a little why ye be so heady. Ye know not what shall be said to you, therefore I pray you keep silence, and hear me patiently. My friends, ye all know that we be men, frail of con- dition and no angels ; and by frailty and lack of wisdom we have misdemeaned ourselves towards the King our sovereign lord and his laws ; so that all we of the clergy were in premunire, by reason whereof all our promotions, lands, goods, and chattels were to him forfeit, and our bodies ready to be imprisoned. Yet his Grace, moved with pity and compassion, demanded of us what we could say why he should not extend his laws upon us. *Then the fathers of the clergy humbly besought IS3I-] CHURCH AND STATE. 341 his Grace for mercy, to whom he answered he was ever inclined to mercy. Then for all our great offences we had but little penance ; for when he might, by the rigour of his laws, have taken all our livelihoods, he was con- tented with one hundred thousand pounds, to be paid in five years. And though this sum may be more than we may easily bear, yet, by the rigour of his law, we should have borne the whole burden ; whereupon, my brethren, I charitably exhort you to bear your parts of your livelihood and salary towards payment of this sum granted.'^ The ingenuity of this address deserved all praise ; but the beauty of the form was insufficient to disguise the inconclusiveness of the reasoning. It confessed an offence which the hearers knew to be none ; the true , provocation which had led to the penalty — ^the unjust , extortion of the High Church officials — was ignored. ; The crowd laughed and hooted. The clergy fiercely tightened their purse-striags, and the Bishop was heard out with hardly restraiaed indignation. ' My lord,' it was shortly answered by one of them,. ' twenty nobles a year is but a bare liviag for a priest. Victual and all else is now so dear that poverty enforceth us to say nay. Besides that, my lord, we never meddled with the Car- dinal's faculties. Let the bishops and abbots which have offended pay.' Loud clamour followed and shouts of applause. The Bishop's officers gave the priests high , words. The priests threw back the taunts as they came ; 1 Hall, p. 783. 342 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH.'4, and the London citizens, delighting in the scandalous, quarrel, hounded on the opposition. From words they passed to blows ; the bedeU and vergers tried to keep order, but 'were buffeted and stricken,'^ and the meet- ing broke up in wild uproar and confusion. For this matter five of the lay crowd and fifteen London curates were sent to the Tower by Sir Thomas More ; but the undignified manoeuvre had failed, and the fruit of it was but fresh disgrace. United, the clergy might have defied the King and the Parliament ; but in the race of selfish- ness the bishops and high dignitaries had cared only for their own advantage. They had left the poorer mem- bers of their order with no interest in common with that of their superiors, beyond the shield which the courts consented to extend over moral delinquency ; and in the hour of danger they found themselves left naked and alone to bear the storm as they were able. This incident, and it was perhaps but one of manj'^, is not likely to have softened the disposition of the Com- mons, or induced them to entertain more respectfully the bishops' own estimate of their privileges. The Convo- cation and the Parliament met simultaneously, on the 15th of January, and the conflict, which had been for two years in abeyance, recommenced. The initial measure was taken by Convocation, and this body showed a spirit still unsubdued, and a resolution to fight in their own feebly tyrannical manner to the last. A gentleman in Gloucestershire had lately died, by name ' ' The Bishop was brought in desperation of his life.' — B.0IU Mouse MS., Seconfl scries, 532. This paper confirms Hall's account in every point. IS3I-2-] CHURCH AND STATE. 343 Tracy. In his last testament he had bequeathed his soul to God through the mercies of Christ, declining the me- diatorial offices of the saints, and leaving no money to he expended in masses.^ Such notorious heresy could not be passed over with impunity, and the first step of the assembled clergy^ was to issue a commission to raise the body and burn it. Their audacity displaj'ed at once the power which they possessed, and the temper in which they were disposed to use it. The Archbishop of Can- terbury seems to have been responsible for this mon- • strous order, which unfortunately was carried into execution before Henry had time to interfere.^ It was the last act of the kind, however, in which he was per- mitted to indulge, and the legislature made haste to take away such authority from hands so incompetent to use it. From their debates upon burning the dead Tracy, Convocation were proceeding to discuss the possibility of burning the living Latimer,* when they were re- called to their senses by a summons to prepare some more reasonable answer than that which the bishops had made for them on their privilege of making laws. Twenty more years of work were to be lived by Latimer before they were to burn him, and their own delinquen- cies were for the present of a more pressing nature. The House of Commons at the same time proceeded to ' Hall, p. 796. ' BuKNET, vol. iii. p. 115. ' Warliam was however fined 300/. for it. — Hall, 796. A letter of Eicliard Tracy, son of the dead man, is in the MS. State Faper Office, first series, vol. iv. He says the King's Majesty had committed the investigation of the matter to Crom- well. • LAtimeb's Sermons, p. 46. 344' REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. frame necessary bills on tte other points of their com- plaint. The first act upon the roll recalls the Constitutions of Clarendon and the famous quarrel between Becket and the Crown. When Catholicism was a living belief, when ordained priests were held really and truly to possess those awful powers which the mystery of tran- substantiation assigns to them, they were acknowledged by cormnon consent to be an order apart from the rest of mankind, and being spiritual men, to be amenable only to spiritual jurisdiction^ It was not intended that, if they committed crimes, they should escape the retri- butive consequences of those crimes : ofiienders against the law might (originally at least) be degraded, if the bishops thought good, and stripped of their commission be delivered thus to the secular arm. But the more appropriate punishment for such persons was of a more awful kind, proportioned to the magnitude of the fault ; and was conveyed or held to be conveyed in the inflic- tion of the spiritual death of excommunication. Ex- communication was, in real earnest, the death of the soul, at a time when communion with the Church was the only means by which the soul could be made par- taker of the divine life ; and it was a noble thing to believe that there was something worse for a man than legal penalties on his person or on his mortal body ; it was beautiful to recognize in an active living form, that the heaviest ill which could befall a man was to be cut off from God. But it is only for periods that humanity can endiire the atmosphere of these high altitudes of 1532.1 CHURCH AND STATE. 34J morality. The early Christians attempted a comm.uiiity of goods, but they were unequal to it for more than a generation. The discipline of CathoKcism. was assisted by superstition, — it remaiaed vigorous for many hun- dreds of years, but it languished at last ; and although there was so great yirtue in a living idea, that its forms preserved the reverence of mankind unabated, even when in their effect and working they had become as evil as they once were noble ; yet reverence and endur- ance were at length exhausted, and these forms were to submit to alteration in conformity with the altered nature of the persons whom they affected. I have already alluded to the abuse of ' benefit of clergy ; ' ^ we have arrived at the first of those many steps by which at length it was finally put away, — a step which did not, however, as yet approach the heart of the evil, but touched only its extreme outworks. The clergy had monopolized the learning of the middle ages, and few persons external to their body being able to read or write, their privileges became co-extensive, as I above stated, with these acquirements. The exemption from secular jurisdiction, which they obtained in virtue of their sacred character, had been used as a protection in villany for every scoundrel who could write his name. Under this plea, felons of the worst kind might claim, tiU. this time, to be taken out of the hands of the law judges, and to be tried at the bishops' tribunals ; and at these tribunals, such a motistrous solecism had Catholi- ' Chap. iii. 346 KEIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH [CH. 4. cism become, the payment of money was ever -welcomed as the ready expiation of crime. To prevent the escape of the Bishop of Rochester's cook, who was a ' clerk,' Parliament had specially interfered, and sentenced him without trial, by attainder. They now passed a general Act, remarkable alike in what it provided as in what, for the present, it omitted to provide.^ The preamble re- lated the nature of the evil which was to be remedied, and the historical position of it. It dwelt upon the as- surances which had been given again, and again by the ordinaries that their privileges should not be abused ; but these promises had been broken as often as they had been made ; so that ' continually manifest thieves and murderers, indicted and found guilty of their mis- deeds by good and substantial inquests, and afterwards, by the usages of the common lawes of the land, delivered to the ordinaries as clerks convict, were speedily and hastily delivered and set at large by the ministers of the said ordinaries for corruption and lucre ; or else because the ordinaries enclaiming such offenders by the liberties of the Church would in no wise take the charges in safe keeping of them, but did suffer them to make their pur- gation by such as nothing knew of their misdeeds, and by such fraud did annul! and make void the good and provable trial which was used against such offenders by the King's law; to the pernicious example, increase, and courage of such offenders, if the King's Highness by his authority royal put not speedy remedy thereto.' 23 Hen. VIII. cap. I. 1532] CHURCH AND STATE. 34? To provide such necessary remedy, it was enacted that thenceforward no person under the degree of subdeacon, if guilty of felony, should he allowed to plead ' his clergy ' any more, hut should be proceeded against by the ordinary law. So far it was possible to go — an enormous step if we think of what the evil had been ; and ia such matters to make a beginnitfg was the true difficulty — ^it was the logical premise from which the conclusion could not choose but follow. Yet such was the mystical sacred- ness which clung 'about the ordained clergy, that their patent profligacy had not yet destroyed it — a priest might still commit a murder, and the profane hand of the law might not reach him. The measure, however, if imperfect, was excellent in its degree ; and when this had been accomplished, the House proceeded next to deal with the Arches Court — the one enormous grievance of the time. The petition of the Commons has already exhibited the condition of this institution ; but the Act by which the power of it was limited added more than one particular to what had been previously stated, and the first twenty Unes of the statute which was now passed ^ may be recommended to the consideration of the modern censors of the Reform- ation. The framer of the resolution was no bad friend to the bishops, if they had possessed the faculty of know- ing who their true friends were, for the statement' of complaint was limited, mUd, and moderate. Again, as with the ' benefit of clergy,' the real ground for surprise ' 23 Hen. Till. cap. 9. 348- REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. is that any fraction of a system so indefensible stould have been permitted to continue. The courts were no- thing else but the vicious sources of unjust revenue ; and with the opportunity so fairly offered, it is strange indeed that they were not swept utterly away. But sweeping measures have never found favour in England. There has ever been in English legislation, even when most reforming, that temperate spirit of equity which has refused to visit the sins of centuries upon a single generation. The statute limited its accusations to the points which it was designed to correct, and touched these with a hand firmly gentle. ' Whereas great numbers of the King's subjects,' says the preamble, ' as well men, wives, servants, or others dwelling in divers dioceses of the realm of Eng- land and Wales, heretofore have been at many times called by citations and other processes compidsory to appear in the Arches, Audience, and other high Courts of the archbishops of this reahn, far from and out of the dioceses where such persons are inhabitant and dwell- ing ; and many times to answer to surmised and feigned causes and matters, which have been sued more for vex- ation and malice than from any just cause of suit ; and when certificate hath been made by the sum Tiers, appari- tors, or any such light litterate persons, that the party against whom such citations have been awarded hath been, cited or simimoned ; and thereupon the same party so certified to be cited or summoned hath not appeared according to the certificate, the same party therefore hath been excommunicated, or, at the least, suspended IS32] CHURCH AND STATE. 349 from all divine service ; and thereupon, before that' he or she could be absolved, hath been compelled, not only to pay the fees of the court whereunto he or she was 80 called, amounting to the sum of two shillings, or twenty pence at the least ; but also to pay to the sumner, for every mile distant from the place where he or she then dwelled unto the same court whereunto he or she was summoned to appear, twopence ; to the great charge and impoverishment of the King's subjects, and to the great occasion of misbehaviour of wives, wo- men, and servants, and to the great impairment and diminution of their good names and honesties — be it enacted- ' We ask what? — looking with impatience for some large measure to follow these solemn accusa- tions; and we find Parliament contenting itself with forbidding the bishops, under heavy penalties, to cite any man out of his own diocese, except for specified causes (heresy being one of them), and with limiting the fees which were to be taken by the officers of the courts.^ It could hardly be said that in this Parliament there was any bitter spirit against the Ohurch. This Act only showed mild forbearance and complacent endurance of all tolerable evil. Another, serious matter was dealt with in the same moderate temper. The Mortmain Act had prohibited the Church corporations from further absorbing the lands ; 1 Be it further enacted that no archbishop or hishop, official, com- missary, or any other minister, having spiritual jurisdiction, shall ask, demand, or receive of any of the King's subjects any sum or sums of money for the seal of any citizen, but only threepence sterling. — 23 Hen. VIII. cap. 9. 35° REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. but tie Mortmain Act was evaded in detail, the clergy using their influence to induce persons on their death- beds to leave estates to provide a priest for ever ' to sing for their souls.' The arrangement was convenient pos- sibly for both parties, or if not for both, certainly for one ; but to tie up lands for ever for a special service was not to the advantage of the country; and it was held unjust to allow a man a perpetual power over the disposition of property to atone for the iniquities of his life. But the privilege was not abolished altogether ; it was submitted only to reasonable limitation. Men might still burden their lands to find a priest for twenty years. After twenty years the lands were to relapse for the service of the living, and sianers were expected in equity to bear the consequence in their own persons of such offences as remained after that time imexpiated.* Thus, in two sessions, the most flagrant of the abuses first complaiued of were in a fair way of being remedied. The exorbitant charges for mortuaries, probate duties, legacy duties, the illegal exactions for the sacraments, the worst injustices of the ecclesiastical courts, the non- residence, pluralities, neglect of cures, the secular occu- pations, and extravagant privileges of the clergy, were either terminated or brought within boimds. There re- mained yet to be disposed of the legislative power of the Convocation and the tyrannical prosecutions for heresy. ' 23 Hen. VIII. cap. 10. — By a separate clause all covenants to de- fraud the purposes of this Act were declared void, and the Act itself was to be interpreted ' as beneficially as might be, to the destruction and utter avoiding of such uses, intents, and purposes.' 1532.] CHURCH AND STATE. 351 The last of these was not yet ripe for settlement ; the former was under reconsideration by the Convocation itseK, which at length was arriving at a truer conception of its position ; and this question was not therefore to be dealt with by the legislature. One more important measure, however, was passed by Parliament before it separated, and it is noticeable as the first step which was taken in the momentous direction of a breach with the See of Rome. A prac- tice had existed for some hundreds of years in all the churches of Europe, that bishops and archbishops, on presentation to their sees, should transmit to the Pope, on receiving their bulls of investment, one year's in- come from their new preferments. It was called the payment of annates, or firstfruits, and had originated in the time of the Crusades, as a means of providing a fund for the holy wars. Once established, it had settled into custom,^ and was one of the chief resources of the Papal revenue. From England alone, as much as 160,000 pounds had been paid out of the country in fifty years ; ^ and the impost was alike oppressive to individuals and injurious to the State. Men were ap- pointed to bishoprics frequently at an advanced age, and dying, as they often did, within two or three years of their nomination, their elevation had sometimes in- volved their families and friends in debt and embarrass- ' Annates or firstfruits were first suffered to be taken within the realm for the only defence of Christian people against infidels ; and now they be claimed and demanded as 1 mere duty only for lucre, against all right and conscience. — 23 Hen, VIII. cap. 20. 2 23 Hen. VIII. cap. 20. 352 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. ment ; ^ while the annual export of so nmch bullion was a serious evil at a time when the precious metals formed the only currency, and were so difficult to ob- tain. Before a quarrel with the Court of Rome had been thought of as a possible contingency, the King had laboured with the Pope to terminate the system by some equitable composition; and subsequently cessation of payment had been mentioned more than once in connec- tion with the threats of a separation. The Pope had made light of these threats, belieying them to be no more than words ; there was an opportunity, therefore, of proving that the English Government was really in earnest, in a manner which would touch him in a point where he was naturally sensitive, and would show him at the same time that he could not wholly count on the attachment even of the clergy themselves. For, in fact, the Church itself was fast disintegrating, and the allegi- ance even of the bishops and the secular clergy to Rome had begun to waver : they had a stronger faith in their own privileges than in the union of Christendom ; and if they could purchase the continuance of the former at the price of a quarrel with the Pope, some among them were not disinclined to venture the alternative. The Bishop of Rochester held aloof from such tendencies, and Warham, though he signed the address of the House of Lords to the Pope, regretted the weakness to ' It hath happened many times by occasion of death unto arch- bishops or bishops newly promoted within two or three years after their consecration, that their frienda by whom they have been bolpen to make payment have been utterly im- done and impoverishoJ. — 23 Henry VIII. cap. 20. 1532] CHURCH AND STATE. . 353 whioli lie had yielded : but in the other prelates there was little seriousness of conviction ; and the constitu- tion of the bench had been affected also by the prefer- ment of Gardiner and Edward Lee to two of the sees made vacant by the death of Wolsey. Both these men had been active agents in the prosecution of the divorce ; and Gardiner, followed at a distance by the other, had shaped out, as the Pope grew more intractable, the famous notion that the English Church could and should subsist as a separate communion, independent of foreign control, self governed, self organized, and at the same time adhering without variation to Catholic doctrine. This principle (if we may so abuse the word) shot rapidly into popularity : a party formed about it strong in Parliament, strong in Convocation, strong out of doors among the country gentlemen and the higher clergy — a respectable, wealthy, powerful body, trading upon a solecism, but not the less, therefore, devoted to its maintenance, and, in their artificial horror of being identified with heresy, the most relentless persecutors of the Protestants. This party, unreal as they were, and influential perhaps in virtue of their unreahty, be- came for the moment the arbiters of the Church of Eng- land ; and the bishops belonging to it, and each rising ecclesiastic who hoped to be a bishop, welcomed the resistance of the annates as an opportunity for a demon- stration of their strength. On this question, with a fair show of justice, they could at once relieve themselves of a burden which pressed upon their purses, and, as they supposed, gratify the King. The conservatives were VOL. 1. 23 354 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. still numerically the strongest, and for a time remained in their allegiance to the Papacy/ but their convictions were too feeble to resist the influence brought to bear upon them, and when Parlianient re-assembled after the Easter recess, the two Houses of ConTocation presented an address to the Crown for the abolition of the impost, and with it of all other exactions, direct and indirect — • the indulgences, dispensations, delegacies, and the thou- sand similar forms and processes by which the privileges of the Church of England were abridged for the benefit of the Church of Rome, and weighty injury of purse inflicted both on the clergy and the laity.^ That they contemplated a conclusive revolt from Rome as a consequence of the refusal to pay annates, appears positively ia the close of their address : ' May it please your Grace,' they concluded, after detailing their occa- sions for complaint, — ' may it please your Grace to cause ' M. de la Pom&roy lo Cardinal Tournon. 'London, March 23, 1531-2. ' My Lord, — I sent two letters to your lordship on the 20th of this month. Since that day Parliament has been prorogued, and will not meet again till after Easter. ' It has been determined that the Pope's Holiness shall receive no more annates, and the collector's office is to be abolished. Every- thing ia turning against the Holy See, but the King has shown no little skill , the Lords and Commons have left the final decision of the question at his personal pleasure, and the Pope is to understand that if he will do nothing for the King, the King has the means of making him suffer. The clergy in Convo- cation have consented to nothing, nor will they, till they know the pleasure of their master the Holy Father ; but the other estates being agreed, the refusal of the clergy is treated as of no consequence. ' Many other rights and privi- leges of the Church are abolished also, too numerous to mention.' — MS. Bibliot. Imper. Paris. ' Strype, Eccl$s. Mem., vol. i. part 2, p. 158. 1 532-1 CHURCH AND STATE. 355 the said unjust exactions to cease, and to be foredone for ever by Act of your high Court of Parliament ; and in case the Pope will make process against this realm for the attaining those annates, or else ■wUl retain bishops' bulls tOl the annates be paid ; forasmuch as the exaction of the said annates is against the law of God and the Pope's own laws, forbidding the buying or seUing of spiritual gifts or promotions ; and forasmuch as all good Christian men be more bound to obey God than any man ; and forasmuch as St Paul willeth us to withdraw from all such as walk inordinately ; may it please your High- ness to ordain in this present Parliament that the obedi- ence of your Highness and of the people be withdrawn from the See of Rome.' "^ It was perhaps cruel to compel the clergy to be the first to mention separation — or the language may have been fui-nished by the Erastian party in the Church, who hoped to please the King by it, and save the annates for themselves ; but there was no intention, if the battle was reaUy to be fought, of decorating the clergy with the spoils. The bUl was passed, but passed condition- ally, leaving power to the Crown if the Pope would consent to a compromise of settling the question by a composition. There was a Papal party in the House of Commons whose opposition had perhaps to be con- sidered,^ and the annates were left suspended before Clement at once as a menace and a bribe. ' Steype, Eecles. Mem., vol. i. part 2, p. 158. ' Sir George Throgmorton, Sir William Esses, Sir John Giffard, Sir Marmaduke Constable, with many others, spoke and voted in op- 3S6 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. ' ' Forasmucli/ concluded the statute, ' as tlie King's Highness and this his high Court of Parliament neither have nor do intend in this or any other like cause any manner of extremity or yiolence, before gentle courtesy and friendly -ways and means be first approved and at- tempted, and without a very great urgent cause and occasion given to the contrary ; but principally coveting to disbxirden this realm, of the said great exactions and intolerable charges of annates and firstfruits : [the said Court of Parliament] has therefore thought convenient to commit the final order and determination of the premises unto the King's Highness, so that if it maj' seem to his high wisdom and most prudent discretion meet to move the Pope's Holiness and the Court of Rome, amicably, charitably, and reasonably, to com- pound either to extinct the said annates, or by some friendly, loving, and tolerable composition to moderate the same in such way as may be by this his realm easily borne and sustained, then those ways of composition once taken shall stand in the strength, force, and effect of a law.' ' , The business of the session was closing. It remained to receive the reply of Convocation on the limitation of its powers. The Convocation, presuming, perhaps, upon position to tte Government. They had a sort of clnb at the Queen's Head by Temple Bar, where they held discussions in secret, ' and when we did commence,' said Throgmor- ton, ' we did bid the servants of the house go out, and likewise our own servants, because we thought it not convenient that they should hear us speak of such matters.' — Throgmor- ton to the King : MS. State Taper Office. ' 23 Hen. VIII. cap. 20. IS32.] CHURCH AND STATE. 357 its concessions on the annates question, and untamed by the premunire, had framed their answer in the same spirit which had been previously exhibited by the bishops. They had re-asserted their claims as resting on divine authority, and had declined to acknowledge the right of any secular power to restrain or meddle with them.^ The second answer, as may be supposed, fared no better than the first. It was returned with a per- emptory demand for submission; and taught by ex- perience the uselessness of further opposition, the clergy with a bad grace complied. The form was again drawn by the bishops, and it is amusing to trace the workings of their humble spirit in their reluctant descent from their high estate. They still laboured to protect their dignity in the terms of their concession : — 'As concerning such constitutions and ordinances provincial,' they wrote, ' as shall be made hereafter by your most hiunble subjects, we having our special trust and confidence in your most excellent wisdom, your princely goodness, and fervent zeal for the promotion of God's honour and Christian rehgion, and specially in your incomparable learning far exceeding in our judg- ment the learning of all other kings and princes that we have read of; and not doubting but that the same should still continue and daily increase in your Majesty ; do offer and promise here unto the same, that from hence- ' Printed' in Strype, Eceles. Mem., vol. i. p. 201. Strype, know- ing nothing of the first answer, and perceiving in the second an allusion to one preceding, has supposed that this answer followed the third and last, and was in fact a retractation of it. All obscurity is removed when the three replies are arrangedin their legitimate order. 358 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4.. forth we shall forbear to enact, promulge, or put in execution any such constitutions and ordinances so by us to be made in time coming, unless your Highness by your Royal assent shaU license us to make, promulge, and execute such constitutions, and the same so made be approved by your Highness's authority. 'And whereas your Highness's most honourable Commons do pretend that divers of the constitutions provincial, which have been heretofore enacted, be not only much prejudicial to your Highness's prerogative royal, but be also overmuch onerous to your said Com- m^ons, we, your most hmuble servants, for the consider- ation before said, be contented to refer all the said consti- tutions to the judgment of your Grace only. And what- soever of the same shall finally be found prejudicial and overmuch onerous as is pretended, we offer and promise your Highness to moderate or utterly to abrogate and annul the same, according to the judgment of your Grace. Saving to us always such liberties and immu- nities of this Church of England as hath been granted unto the same by the goodness and benignity of your Highness and of others your most noble progenitors ; with such constitutions provincial as do stand with the laws of Almighty God and of your realm, heretofore made, which we most humbly beseech your Grace to ratify and approve by your most Royal assent for the better execution of the same in times to come.' ^ The acknowledgment appeared to be complete, and ' Stbtpe, Hceles. Mem., y I. i. p. 199, &c. I532-] CHURCH AND STATE. 355 miglit perhaps have been accepted without minute ex- amination, except for the imprudent acuteness of the Lower House of Convocation. As it passed through their hands, they discovered — what had no doubt been intended as a loophole for future evasion — that the grounds which were alleged to excxise the submission were the virtues of the reigning Kiag : and therefore, as they sagaciously argued, the submission must only re- main in force for his life. They introduced a limitation to that effect. Some further paltry dabbling was also attempted with the phraseology : and at length, impa- tient with such dishonest trifling, and weary of a dis- cussion in which they had resolved to allow but one conclusion, the King and the legislature thought it well to interfere with a high hand, and cut short such un- profitable folly. The language of the bishops was con- verted into an Act of Parliament ; a mixed commission was appointed to revise the canon law, and the clergy with a few brief strokes were reduced for ever into their fit position of subjects.^ Thus with a moderate hand this great revolution was effected, and, to outward ap- pearance, with offence to none except the sufferers, whose misuse of power when they possessed it deprived them of all sympathy in their fall. But no change of so vast a kind can be other than a stone of stumbHng to those many persons for whom the beaten ways of Hfe alone are tolerable, and who, when these ways are broken, are bewildered and lost. Ee- 23 Henry VIII. cap. 20. 36o REIGN OF HE.VRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 4. ligion, when laen are under its influence at all, so ab- sorbs their senses, and so pervades all their associations, that no faults in the ministers of it can divest their per- sons of reverence ; and just and necessary as all these alterations were, many a pious and noble heart Tvas wounded, many a man was asking himself in his per- plexity where things would end, and still more sadly, where, if these quarrels deepened, would lie his owii duty. I^ow the Nun of Kent grew louder in her Cas- sandra wailings. Now the mendicant friars moxmted the pulpits exclaiming sacrilege ; bold men, who feared nothing that men could do to them, and who dared in the King's own presence, and in his own chapel, to de- nounce him by name.^ The sacred associations of twelve centuries were tumbling into ruin ; and hot and angry as men had been before the work began, the hearts of numbers sank in them when they ' saw what was done ; ' and they fell away slowly to doubt, disaffection, distrust, and at last treason. The first outward symptom of importance pointing in this direction, was the resignation of the seals by Sir Thomas More.^ More had not been an illiberal man ; ' Stow, p. 562. ^ ' In connection with the An- nates Act, the question of appeals to Eome had heen discussed in the present ses-ion. Sir George Throg- morton liad spoken on the Papal side, and in his suhsequent confes- sion he mentioned a remarkahle in- terview which ho hadhadwithMore. ' After I had reasoned to the Bill of Appeals,' he said, ' Sir Thomas More, then heing chancel- lor, sent for me to come and speak withhim in the Parliament chamher. And when I came to him he was in a little chamber within the Parlia- ment chamber, where, as I remember, stood an altar, or a thing like unto an altar, whereupon he did lean, and, as I do think, the same time the 1 532-] CHURCH AND STATE. 361 wlieii lie wrote tlie Utopia, he seemed even to be in ad- vance of his time. None could see the rogue's face under the cowl clearer than he, or the proud bad heart under the scarlet hat ; and few men had ventured to speak their thoughts more boldly. But there was in More a want of confidence in human natiu'e, a scorn of the follies of his fellow-creatures which, as he became more earnestly religious, narrowed and hardened his convictions, and transformed the genial philosopher into the merciless bigot. ' Heresy ' was naturally hateful to him ; his mind was too clear and genuine to allow him to deceive himself with the delusions of Anglicanism ; and as he saw the inevitable tendency of the Reforma- tion to lead ultimately to a change of doctrine, he at- tached himself with increasing determination to the cause of the Pppe and of the old faith. As if with an instinctive prescience of what would follow from it, he had from the first been opposed to the divorce ; and he had not concealed his feeling from the King at the time when the latter had pressed the seals on his unwilling acceptance. In consenting to become Chancellor, he had yielded only to Henry's entreaties ; he had held his office for two years and a half — and it would have been weU for his memory if he had been constant in his re- Bishop of Bath was talking with him. And then he said this to me, ] am very glad to hear the good re- port that goeth of you, and that ye he so good a Catholic man as ye be. And if ye do continue in the same way that ye begin, and be not afraid to say your conscience, ye shall deserve great reward of God, and thanks of the King's Grace at length, and much worship to yourself.'^ Throgmorton to the Eing : MS. State Paper Office. 352 RE:GiV of henry Tim EIGHTH. [CH. 4. fusal — for in his ineffectual struggles against the. stream, he had attempted to counterpoise the attack upon the Church by destroying the unhappy Protestants. At the close of the session, however, the acts of which we have just described, he felt that he must no longer countenance, by remaining in an office so near to the Crown, measures which he so intensely disapproved and deplored ; it was time for him to retire from a world not moving to his mind ; and in the fair tranquillity of his family prepare himself for the evil days which he fore- saw. In May, 1$"^,, he petitioned for per- mission to resign, resting his request unob- trusively on failing health ; and Henry sadly consented to lose his services. Parallel to More's retirement, and though less im- portant, yet still noticeable, is a proceeding of old Arch- bishop Warham under the same trying circumstances. In the days of his prosperity, Warham had never reached to greatness as a man. He had been a great ecclesiastic, successful, dignified, important, but without those highest qualities which command r§spect or interest. The iniquities of Warham's spiritual courts were greatei;*than those of any other in England. He had not made them what they were. They grew by their own proper corruption ; and he was no more re- sponsible for them than every man is responsible for the continuance of an evil by which he profits, and which he has power to remedy. "We must look upon him as the leader of the bishops in their opposition to the re- form ; and he was the probable author of the famous answer to the Commons' petition, which led to such I532.J CHURCH AND STATE. 363 momentous consequences.* These consequences lie had lived partially to see. Powerless to struggle against the stream, he had seen swept away one by one those gigan- tic privileges to which he had asserted for his order a claim divinely sanctioned ; and he withdrew himself, heartbroken, into his palace at Lambeth, and there en- tered his solemn protest against all which had been done. Too ill to write, and trembling on the edge of the grave, he dictated to his notaries from his bed these not unaf- fecting words : — ' In the name of God, Amen. We, William, by Divine Providence Archbishop of Canterbury, Primate of all England, Legate of the Apostolic See, hereby publicly and expressly do protest for ourselves and for our Holy Metropolitan Church of Canterbury, that to any statute passed or hereafter to be passed in this pre- sent Parliament, begun the third of November, 1529, and continued until this present time ; in so far as such statute or statutes be in derogation of the Pope of Rome or the Apostolic See, or be to the hurt, prejudice, or limitation of the powers of the Church, or shall tend to the subverting, enervating, derogating from, or dimin- ishing the laws, customs, privileges, prerogatives, pre- eminence of liberties of our Metropolitan Church of Can- terbury ; we neither will, nor intend, nor with clear conscience are able to consent to the same, but by these writings we do dissent from, refuse, and contradict them.' ^ Thus formally having delivered his soul, he laid himself down and died. ' In part of it he speaks in his own person. Vide supra, cap. 3. * BcKNET's Collectanea, p. 435. 364 CHAPTER V. MARRIAGE OF HENRY AND ANNE BOLEYN. ALTHOUGH in tte question of tlie divorce the King had interfered despotically to control the judgment of the Universities, he had made no attempt, as we have seen, to check the tongues of the clergy. Nor if he had desired to check them, is it likely that at the present stage of proceedings he could have succeeded. No law had as yet been passed which made a crime of a differ- ence of opinion on the Pope's dispensing powers ; and so long as no definitive sentence had been pronounced, everyone had free liberty to think and speak, as he pleased. So great, indeed, was the anxiety to disprove Catherine's assertion that England was a locus suspectus, and therefore that the cause could not be equitably tried there, that even in the distribution of patronage there was an ostentatious display of impartiality. Not only had Sir Thomas More been made chancellor, although emphatically on Catherine's side ; but Cuthbert Tunstal, who had been her counsel, was promoted to the See of Durham. The Nun of Xent, if her word was to be be- 1532] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 365 lieved, had been offered an abbey,' and that Henry per- mitted language to pass unnoticed of the most uncon- trolled violence, appears from a multitude of informa- tions which were forwarded to the Grovernment from all parts of the country. But while imposing no restraint on the expression of opinion, the council were careful to keep themselves well informed of the opinions which were expressed, and an instrument was ready made to their hands, which placed them in easy possession of what they desired. Among the many abominable prac- tices which had been iatroduced by the ecclesiastical courts, not the least hateful was the system of espionage with which they had saturated English society ; en- couragiag servants to be spies on their masters, children on their parents, neighbours on their neighbours, invit- iag every one who heard language spoken anywhere of doubtful allegiance to the Church, to report the words to the nearest official, as an occasion of iustant process. It is not without a feeliag of satisfaction, that we find this detestable invention recoiling upon the heads of its authors. Those who had so long suffered imder it, found an opportunity ia the turning tide, of revenging them- selves on their oppressors ; and the country was covered with a ready-made army of spies, who, with ears ever open, were on the watch for impatient or disaffected language in their clerical superiors^ and furnished steady reports of such language to Cromwell.^ ' Note of the Eevelations of Eli- 1 Tudor princes and tlieir ministers zabeth Barton : Rolls House MS. carried out the spy system to an ' It has been thought that the i iniquitous extent, — that it was the J 56 REIGN OF HEMRY THE EIGHTH. [cii. 5- Specimens of these informations will throw curious light on the feeHngs of a portion at least of the people. great instrument of their Machiavel- lian policy, introduced by Cromwell, and afterwards developed by Cecil and Walsingham. That both Crom- well and Walsingham availed them- selves of secret information, is unquestionable, —as I think it is also unquestionable that they would have betrayed the interests of their country if they had neglected to do so. Nothing, in fact, except their skill in fighting treason with its own. weapons, saved England from a repetition of the wars of the Roses, envenomed with the additional fury of religious fanaticism. But the agents of Cromwell, at least, were all volunteers ; — their services were rather checked than encouraged; and when I am told, by high authority, that in those times an accusation was equivalent to a sentence of death, I am compelled to lay so sweeping a charge of injustice by the side of a document which forces me to demur to it. ' In the reign of the Tudors,' says a very eminent writer, ' the committal, arraignment, conviction, and execution of any state prisoner accused or suspected, or unckr sus- picion of leing suspected of high treason, were only the regular terms in the series of judicial proceedings.' This is scarcely to be reconciled with the loth of the 37th of Hon. A^II., which shows no desire to welcome accusations, or exaggerated readi- ness to listen to them. ' Whereas,' says that Act, ' divers malicious and evil-disposed persons, of their perverse, cruel, and malicious intents, minding the utter undoing of some persons to whom they have and do bear malice, hatred, and evil will, have of late most devilishly practised and devised divers writings, wherein hath been comprised that the same persons to whom they bear malice should speak traitorous words against the King's Majesty, Ms crown and . dignity, or commit divers heinous and detestable treasons against the King's Highness, where, in very deed, the persons so accused never spake nor committed any such of- fence; by reason whereof divers of the King's true, faithful, and loving subjects have been put in fear and dread of their lives and of the loss and forfeiture of their lands and chattels— for reformation hereof, be it enacted, that if any person or persons, of what estate, degree, or condition he or they shall be, shall at any time hereafter devise, make, or write, or cause to be made any manner of writing comprising that any person has spoken, committed, or done any offence or offences which now by the laws of this realm be made treason, or that hereafter shall be made treason, and do not sub- scribe, or cause to be subscribed, his true name to the said writing, and within twelve days next after ensuing do not personally come before the IS32.] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 367 The Englisli license of speecli, if not recognized to the same extent as it is at present, was certainly as fully practised. On the return of the Abbot of "Whitby from the Convocation at York in the summer of 1532, when the premimire money was voted, the following conversa- tion was reported as having been overheard ia the abbey. The prior of the convent asked the abbot what the news were. ' What news ? ' said the abbot, ' evil news. The King is ruled by a common Anne Boleyn, who has made all the spiritualty to be beggared, and the temporalty also. Further he told the prior of a sermon that he had heard in York, in which it was said, when a great wiad rose in the west we should hear news. And he asked what that was ; and he said a great man told him at York, and if he Imew as much as three in England he would tell what the news were. And he said who were they ? and he said -the Duke of If orfolk, the Earl of Wiltshire, and the common Anne Boleyn.' ^ The dates of these papers cannot always be deter- mined ; this which follows, probably, is something later, but it shows the general temper in which the clergy King or his council, and affirm the contents of the said writings to be true, and do as much, as in him shall be for the approvement of the same, that then all and every person or persons offending as aforesaid, shall be deemed and adjudged a felon or felons ; and being lawfully convicted of such offence, after the laws of the realm, shall suffer pains of death and loss and forfeiture of lands, goods, and chattels, withoiit benefit of clor^jy or privilege of sanctuary to be ad- mitted or allowed in that behalf.' ' Accusation brought by Kobcrt 'Wodehouse, Prior of Whitby, again't the Abbot, for slanderous words against Anno Boleyu ; Uolls House MS. 368 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. "were disposed to meet the measures of tlie Government. ' Robert Legate, friar of Furness, deposetli tliat tlie monks had a prophecy among them, that ' in England shall be slain the decorate rose in his mother's beUy,' and this they interpret of his Majesty, saying that his Majesty shall die by the hands of priests ; for the Church is the mother, and the Church shall slay his Grace, The said Robert maintaineth that he hath heard the monks often say this. Also, it is said among them that the King's Grace was not the right heir to the crown ; for that his Grace's father came in by no Kne, but by the sword. Also, that no secular knave should be head of the Church ; also that the abbot did know of these treasons, and had made no report thereof.' ^ Nor was it only in the remote abbeys of the North that such dangerous language was ventured. The pul- pit of St Paul's rang Sunday after Sunday with the polemics of the divorce ; and if ' the holy water of the court ' made the higher clergy cringing and cowardly, the rank and file, even in London itself, showed a bold English front, and spoke out their thoughts with entire recklessness. Among the preachers on Catherine's side. Father Forest, famous afterward in Catholic martvr- ologies, began to distinguish himself. Forest was warden of a convent of Observants at Greenwich attached to the royal chapel, and having been Catherine's confessor, remained, with the majority of the friars, faithful to her 1 Deposition of Robert Legate concerning the Language of the Monks of Furness: Soils Souse MS. IS32-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 369 interests, and fearless in the assertion of them. From their connection with the palace, the intercourse of these monks with the royal household was considerable ; their position gave them influence, and Anne Boleyn tried the power of her charms, if possible, to gaia them over. She had' succeeded with a few of the weaker brothers, but she was unable (and her inability speaks remarkably for Henry's endurance of opposition through the early stages of the controversy) to protect those whose serv- ices she had won from the anger of their superiors. One monk in whom she was interested the warden im- prisoned,^ another there was an eflbrt to expel,^ because he was ready to preach on her side ; and Forest himself preached a violent sermon at Paul's Cross, attacking CromweU and indirectly the Kiug.^ He was sent for to the Court, and the persecuted brothers expected their triumph ; but he returned, as one of them wrote bitterly to Cromwell, having been received with respect and favour, as if, after all, the enmity of a brave man found more honour at the Court than the complacency of cow- ardice. Father Forest, says this letter, has been with the King. ' He says he spake with the King for half an hour and more, and was well retained by his Grace ; and the King's Grace did send biTn a great piece of beef from his own table ; and also he met with my Lord of ' Ellis, third series, toI. ii. p. 254. ' Father Forest hath lahoured divers manner of ways to expulse Father Laurence out of the convent, and his chief cause is, hecause he VOL. J. 24 knoweth that Father Laurence will preach the King's matter whenso- ever it shall please his Grace to com- mand him. — Ibid. p. 250. ' Ibid. p. 251. 370 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5, ]!^orfoIk, and te says he took Mm in Ms arms and bade him welconie.' ' Forest, unfortunately for himself, misconstrued for- bearance into fear, and went his way at last, through treason and perjury, to the stake. In the mean time the Observants were left ia possession of the royal chapel, the weak brother died in prison, and the King, when at Grreen- wich, contiaued to attend service, submitting to listen, as long as submission was possible, to the admonitions which the friars used the opportunity to deliver to him. In these more courteous days we can form little con- ception of the license which preachers in the sixteenth century allowed themselves, or the language which per- sons in high authority were often obliged to bear. Lati- mer spoke as freely to Henry VIII. of neglected duties, as to the peasants in his Wiltshire parish. St Ambrose did not rebuke the Emperor Theodosius more haughtily than John Knox lectured Queen Mary and her ministers on the vanities of Holyrood ; and Catholic priests, it seems, were not afraid to display even louder disre- spect. On Sunday, the first of May, 153 a, the pul- pit at Greenwich^ was occupied by Father Peto, afterwards Cardinal Peto, famous through Europe as a Catholic iacendiary; but at this time an undistinguished brother of the Observants convent. His sermon had been upon the story of Ahab and Naboth, and his text had been. ' Lyst to Cromwell. Ellib,, third series, vol. ii. p. 255. Stetpe, &cks. Memor., vol. i. Appendix, No. 47. ' See vol. iv. Appendix. 1532.] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 371 ' Where the dogs licked the blood of ITaboth, even there shall they lick thy blood, king.' Henry, the Court, and most likely Anne Boleyn herself, were present ; the first of May being the great holy-day of the English year, and always observed at Greenwich with peculiar splen- dour. The preacher had dilated at length upon the crimes and the fall of Ahab, and had drawn the portrait in aU its magnificent wickedness. He had described the scene in the court of heaven, and spoken of the lying prophets who had mocked the monarch's hopes before the fatal battle. At the end, he turned directly to Henry, and assuming to himself the mission of Micaiah, he closed his address in the following audacious words : — ' And now, king,' he said, ' hear what I say to thee. I am that Micaiah whom thou wilt hate, because I must tell thee truly that this marriage is unlawful, and I know that I shall eat the bread of aiHiction and drink the waters of sorrow, yet because the Lord hath put it in my mouth I must speak it. There are other preachers, yea too many, which preach and persuade thee otherwise, feeding thy folly and frail affections upon hopes of their own worldly promotion ; and by that means they betray thy soul, thy honour, and thy posterity ; to obtain fat benefices, to become rich abbots and bishops, and I know not what. These I say are the four hundred prophets who, in the spirit of lying, seek to deceive thee. Take heed lest thou, being seduced, find Ahab's punishment, who had his blood licked up by the dogs.' Henry must have been compelled to Ksten to many such invectives. He left the chapel without noticing 372 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [cH. 5. what had passed ; and in the course of the week Peto ■went down from Greenwich to attend a provincial council at Canterbury, and perhaps to communicate with the Nun of Kent. Meantime a certain Dr Kirwan was com- missioned to preach on the other side of the question the following Sunday, Kirwan was one of those men of whom the preacher spoke prophetically, since hy the present and similar services he made his way to the archbishopric of Dublin and the bishopric of Oxford, and accepting the Erastian theory of a Christian's duty, followed Edward VI. into heresy, and Mary into Popery and persecution. He re- garded himself as an official of the State religion ; and his highest conception of evil ia a Christian was disobedience to the reigning authority. We may therefore conceive easily the burden of his sermon in the royal chapel. 'He most sharply reprehended Peto,' calling him foul names, ' dog, slanderer, base beggarly friar, rebel, and traitor,' saying 'that no subject should speak so audaciouslj' to his prince : ' he ' commended ' Henry's intended marriage, ' thereby to establish his seed in his seat for ever ; ' and having won, as he supposed, his facile victory, he proceeded with his peroration, addressing his absent antagonist. ' I speak to thee, Peto,' he ex- claimed, ' to thee, Peto, which makest thyself Micaiah, that thou may est speak evil of kings ; but now art not to be found, being fled for fear and shame, as unable to answer my argument.' In the royal chapel at Green- wich there was more reality than decorum. A voice out of the rood-loft cut short the eloquent declamation. 32.] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 373 ' Grood sir,' it said, ' you know Father Peto is gone to Canterbury to a provincial council, and not fled for fear of you ; for to-morrow he will return agaia. In the mean time I am here as another Micaiah, and will lay down my life to prove those things true which he hath taught. And to this combat I challenge thee; thee, Kirwan, I say, who art one of the four hundred into whom the spirit of lying is entered, and thou seekest by adultery to establish the succession, betraying thy King for thy own vaia glory iato endless perdition.' A scene of confusion followed, which was allayed at last by the Kiag himself, who rose from his seat and commanded silence. It was thought that the limit of permissible Kcense had been transcended, and the following day Peto and Elstowe, the other speaker, were summoned before the council to receive a repri- mand. Lord Essex told them they deserved to be sewn iato a sack and thrown into the Thames. 'Threaten such thiags to rich and daiaty folk, which have their hope in this world,' answered Elstowe, gallantly, 'we fear them not ; with thanks to God we know the way to heaven to be as ready by water as by land.' * Men of siich metal might be broken, but they could not be bent. The two offenders were hopelessly unrepentant and im- practicable, and it was found necessary to banish them. They retired to Antwerp, where we find them the fol- I Stow's Annals, p. 562. This expression passed into a proverb, although the words were first spoken by a poor friar ; they were the last which the good Sir Humfrey Gilbert was heard to utter before his ship went down. 374 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. lowing year busy procuring copies of the Bishop of Rochester's book against the King, which was broadly disseminated on the continent, and secretly transmittiag them into England ; in close correspondence also with Fisher himself, with Sir Thomas More, and for the ill fortune of their friends, with the Court at Brussels, be- tween which and the English Catholics the intercourse was dangerously growing.' The Greenwich friars, with their warden, went also a bad way. The death of the persecuted brother was attended with circumstances in a high degree suspicious.^ Henry ordered an inquiry, which did not terminate in any actual exposure ; but a cloud hung over the convent, ' yaHn;han to Cromwell : State Tapers, vol. vii. p. 489-90. ' I learn that this book was first drawn by the Bishop of Eoohester, and so being drawn, was by the said Bishop afterwards delivered in England to two Spaniards, being secular and laymen. They receiving his first draught, either by themselves or some other Spaniards, altered and perfinished fte same into the form that it now is ; Peto and one Friar Elstowe of Canterbury, being {he only men that have and do take upon themselves to be conveyers of the same books into England, and conveyers of all other things into and out of England. If privy search be made, and shortly, peradventure in the house of the same Bishop shall be found his first copy. Master More hath sent oftentimes and lately books unto Peto, in Antwerp — as his book of the confutation of Tj-n- dal, and of Prith's opinion of the sacrament, with divers other books. I can no further learn of More's practices, but if you consider this well, you may perchance espy his craft. Peto laboureth busylier than a bee in the setting forth of this book. He never ceasetb running to and from the Court here. The King never had in his realm traitors like his friars— [Vaugban wrote ' clergy.' The word in the original is dashed through, and 'friars' is substituted, whether by Cromwell or by himself in an afterthought, I do not know] —and so I have always said, and yet do. Let his Grace look well about him, for they seek to devour him. They have blinded his Grace.' '^ Ellis, third series, vol. ii. p. 262, &c. 1532.] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 375 whicli refused to be dispelled ; the -warden was deposed, and soon after it was found necessary to dissolve tlie order. If the English monks had shared as a body the character of the Greenwich Observants, of the Carthu- sians of London and Richmond, and of some other establishments, — which may easily be numbered, — the resistance which they might have offered to the Govern- ment, with the sympathy which it would have com- manded, would have formed an obstacle to the Reform- ation that no power could have overcome. It was time, however, for the dissolution of the monasteries, when the few among them, which on other grounds might have claimed a right to survive, were driven by their very virtues into treason. The majority perished of their proper worthlessness ; the few remaining con- trived to make their existence incompatible with the safety of the State. Leaving for the present these disorders to mature themselves, I m.ust now return to the weary chapter of European diplomacy, to trace the tortuous course of popes and princes, duping one another with false hopes ; saying what thej' did not mean, and meaning what they did not say. It is a very Slough of Despond, through which we must plunge desperately as we may ; and we can cheer ourselves iu this dismal region only by the know- ledge that, although we are now approaching the spot where the mire is deepest, the hard ground is imme- diately beyond. We shall, perhaps, be able most readily to compre- 376 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. hend tlie position of the various parties in Europe, by placing them before us as they stood severally in the summer of 1533, and defining briefly the object wliicli each was pursuing. Henry only, among the great powers, laid his con- duct open to the world, declaring truly what he desired, and seeking it by open means. He was determined to proceed with the divorce, and he was determined also to continue the Reformation of the English Church. If consistently with these two objects he could avoid a rupture with the Pope, he was sincerely anxious to avoid it. He was ready to make great efforts, to risk great sacrifices, to do anything short of surrendering what he considered of vital moment, to remain upon good terms with the See of Rome. If his efforts failed, and a quarrel was inevitable, he desired to seciire him- self by a close maintenance of the French alliance ; and having induced Francis to urge compliance upon the Pope by a threat of separation if he refused, to prevail on him, in the event of the Pope's continu.ed obstinacy, to put his threat in execution, and unite with England in a common schism. All this is plain and straightfor- ward — Henry concealed nothing, and, in fact, had no- thing to conceal. In his threats, his promises, and his entreaties, we feel entire certainty that he was speaking his real thoughts. The Emperor's position, also, though not equally simple, is intelligible, and commands our respect. Al- though if he had consented to sacrifice his aimt, he might have spared himself serious embarrassment ; al- IS32-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 377 thougli both by tbe Pope and by the consistory such, a resolution would probably have been welcomed witb. passionate thankfulness ; yet at all hazards Charles was determined to make her his first object, even with the risk of convulsing Europe. At the same time his position was encumbered with difficulty. The Turks were press- ing upon biTn in Hungary and in the Mediterranean ; his relations with Francis — fortunately for the prospects of the Reformation — were those of inveterate hostility ; while in Germany he had been driven to m.ake terms with the Protestant princes ; he had offended the Pope by promising them a general coimcil, in which the Lutheran divines shoidd be represented ; and the Pope, taught by recent experience, was made to fear that these symptoms of favour towards heresy, might convert them- selves into open support. With Francis the prevailing feeling was rivalry with the Emperor, combined with an eager desire to recover his influence in Italy, and to restore France to the position in Europe which had been lost by the defeat of Pavia, and the failure of Lautrec at Naples. This was his first object, to which every other was subsidiary. He was disiaclined to a rupture with the Pope; but the possibility of such a rupture had been long contemplated by French statesmen. It was a contingency which the Pope feared : — which the hopes of Henry pictured as more likely than it was — and Francis, like his rivals in the European system, held the menace of it extended over the chair of St Peter, to coerce its iinhappy occu- pant into compliance with his wishes. With respect to 378 REIGN OF HENRY 7VIE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. Henry's divorce, tis conduct to tte University of Paris, and his assurances repeated voluntarily on many oc- casions, show that he was sincerely desirous to forward it. He did not care for Henry, or for England, or for the cause itself; he desired only to make the breach between Henry and Charles irreparable ; to make it impossible for ever that ' his two great rivals ' should become friends together ; and by iaducing the Pope to consent to the English demand, to detach the Court of Eome conclusively from the Imperial interests. The two princes who disputed the supremacy of Europe, were intriguing one against the other, each de- siring to constitute himself the champion of the Church ; and to compel the Church to accept his services, by the threat of passing over to her enemies. By a dexterous use of the cards which were in his hands, the King of France proposed to secure one of two alterna- tives. Either he would form a league between himself, Henry, and the Pope, against the Emperor, of which the divorce, and the consent to it, which he would extort from Clement, should be the cement ; or, if this failed him, he would avail himself of the vantage-ground which was given to him by the English alliance to ob- tain such concessions for himself at the Emperor's ex- pense as the Pope could be raduced to make, and the Emperor to tolerate. Such, in so far as I can unravel the web of the di- plomatic correspondence, appear to have been the open positions and the secret purposes of the great European powers. iSSa.] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 379 There remains the fourth figure upon the board, the Pope himself, labouring with such laeans as were at his disposal to watch over the interests of the Church, and to neutralize the destructive ambition of the princes, by playing upon their respective selfishnesses. On the central question, that of the divorce, his position was briefly this. Both the Emperor and Henry pressed for a decision. If he decided for Henry, he lost Germany ; if he decided for Catherine, while Henry was supported by Francis, France and England threatened both to fall from him. It was therefore necessary for him to induce the Emperor to consent to delay, while he worked upon the King of France ; and, if France and England could once be separated, he trusted that Henry woiild yield in despair. This most subtle and difficult poKcy reveals itself in the transactions open and secret of the ensuing years. It was followed with a dexterity as extraor- dinary as its unscnipulousness, and with all but perfect success. That it failed at all, in the ordinary sense of failure, was due to the accidental delay of a courier ; and Clement, while he succeeded iu preserving the alle- giance of France to the !Roman See, succeeded also — and this is no small thiag to have accomplished — ^in weaving the most curious tissue of falsehood which will be met with even ia the fertile pages of Italian subtlety. With this general understanding of the relation be- tween the great parties ia the drama, let us look to their exact position in the summer of 1533. Charles was engaged iu repeUing an invasion of the Turks, Vidth an anarchical Germany in his rear, seeth- 38o REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. s ing with fanatical Anabaptists, and clamouring for a general council. Henry and Francis liad been called upon to furnisb a contingent against Solyman, and bad declined to act with tbe Emperor. They had undertaken to concert their own measures between themselves, if it proved necessary for them to move; and in the mean time Cardi- nal Grammont and Cardinal Toumon were sent by Francis to Rome, to inform Clement that unless he gave a verdict in Henry's favour, the Kings of France and England, being une mesme chose, woidd pursue some poKcy with respect to him,' to which he would regret ' The wishes of the French Court had heen expressed emphatically to, Clement in the preceding January. Original copies of the two following letters are in the Bibliotheque Im- perial at Paris : — TJie Cardinal of Lorraine to Cardinal at Some. 'Paris, Jan, 8, 1531-2. ' EiOHT Revekend Father AND Lord in Christ. — After our most humble commendations — The King of England complains loudly that his cause is not remanded into his own country; he says that it cannot he equitably dealt with at Borne, where he cannot be present. He himself, the Queen, and the other witnesses, are not to be drag- ged into Italy to give their evidence ; and the suits of the sovereigns of England and France have always hitherto been determined in their respective countries. ' Nevertheless, by no entreaty can we prevail on the Pope to nom- inate impartial judges who will de- cide the question in England. ' The King's personal indigna- tion is not the only evil which has to be feared. When these pro- ceedings are known among the peo- ple, there will, perhaps, be a revolt, and the Apostolic See may receive an injury which will not afterwards be easily remedied. ' I have explained these things more at length to his Holiness, as my duty requires. Your affection towards him, my lord, I am assured is no less than mine. I beseech you, therefore, use your best en- deavours with his Holiness, that the King of England may no longer have occasion to exclaim against him. In so doing you will gratify the Most Christian King, and you will follow the course most honourable IS32-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEVN. 381 that he had compelled them to have recourse. So far their instructions were avowed and open. A private to yourself and most favourable to the quiet of Christendom, ' IVom Abbeville.' Francis the First to Pope Clement the Seventh. 'Paris, Jan. 10, 1531-2. ' Most Holt Father,— You are not ignorant what our good brother and ally the King of Eng- land demands at your hands. He requires that 'the cognizance of his marriage be remanded to his own realm, and that he be no further pressed to pursue the process at Some. The place is inconvenient from its distance, and there are other good and reasonable objections which he assures us that he has urged upon your Holiness's consideration. 'Most Holy Father, we have written several times to you, especi- ally of late from St Cloud, and after- wards from Chantilly, in our good brother's behalf ; and we have fur- ther entreated you, through our ambassador residing at your Court, to put an end to this business as nearly according to the wishes of our said good brother as is compat- ible with the honour of Almighty God. We have made this request of you as well for the affection and close alliance which exist between ourselves and our brother, as for the filial love and duty with which we both in common regard your Holiness. ' Seeing, nevertheless. Most Holy Father, that the aifair in question is still far from settlement, and know- ing our good brother to be displeased and dissatisfied, we fear that some great scandal and inconvenience may arise at last which may cause the diminution of your Holiness's au- thority. There is no longer that ready obedience to the Holy See in England which was offered to your predecessors ; and yet your Holi- ness persists in citing my good brother the King of England to plead his cause before you in Rome. Surely it is not without cause that he calls such treatment of him un- reasonable. We have ourselves ex- amined into the law in this matter, and we are assured that your Holi- ness's claim is unjust and contrary to the privilege of kings. For a sovereign to leave his realm and plead as a suitor in Rome, is a thing wholly impossible,* and there- fore, Holy Father, we have thought good to address you once more in this matter. Bear with us, we en- treat you. Consider our words, and recall to your memory what by letter and through our ministers we have urged upon yon. Look promptly to our brother's matter, and so act that your Holiness may be seen to value * Chose beaucoup plus impossible que possible. 3S2 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. S. message revealed the secret means by wliicli tlie Pope might escape from, his dilemm.a ; the cardinals were to negotiate a marriage between the Duke of Orleans and the Pope's niece (afterwards so infamously famous), Catherine de Medicis. The marriage, as Francis repre- sented it to Henry, was beneath the dignity of a prince of France, he had consented to it, as he professed, only for Henry's sake ; '■ but the Pope had made it palatable by a secret article in the engagement, for the grant of the duchy of Milan as the lady's dowry. Henry, threatened as we have seen with domestic disturbance, and with further danger on the side of Scotland, which Charles had succeeded in agitating, con- cluded, on the 33rd of June, a league, offensive and defensive, with Francis, the latter engaging to send a fleet into the Channel, and to land 15,000 troops in England if the Emperor should attempt an invasion from the sea.^ For the better consolidation of this league, and to consult upon the measures which they would pursue on the great questions at issue in Christendom, and lastly to -come to a final understanding on the di- vorce, it was agreed further that in the autumn the two kings should meet at Calais. The conditions of the interview were sjtiU unarranged on the a and of July, June 23. and esteem our friendship. What you do for him, or what you do against him, we shall take it as done to ourselTce. ' Holy Father, we will pray the Son of God to pardon and long pre- serve your Holiness to rule and go- vern our Holy Mother the Church. — Fbancis.' ' State Papers, vol. vii. p. 428. Legrand, vol. iii. * LoED Herbert, p. i6a Eymee, vol. vi. part ii. p. 171. I532-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLE YN. 383 when tte Bishop of Paris, who remained ambassador at the English Court, wrote to Montmorency to suggest that Anne Boleyii should he invited to accompany the King of England on this occasion, and that she should he received in state. The letter was dated from Ampt- hill, to which Henry had escaped for a while from his Greenwich friars and other troubles, and where the Kiag was staying a few weeks before the house was given up to Queen Catherine. Anne Boleyn was with him ; she now, as a matter of course, attended him everywhere. Intending her, as he did, to be the mother of the futui'e heir to his crown, he preserved what is technically called her honour unimpeached and unim- paired. In all other respects she occupied the position and received the homage due to the actual wife of the English sovereign ; and in this capacity it was the de- sire of Henry that she should be acknowledged by a foreign prince. The Bishop's letter on this occasion is sing^arly in- teresting and descriptive. The Court were out hunting, he said, every day ; and while the King was pursuing the heat of the chase, he and Mademoiselle Anne were posted together, each with a crossbow, at the point to which the deer was to be driven. The young lady, in order that the appearance of her reverend cavalier might correspond with his occupation, had made him a present of a hunting cap and frock, a horn and a grey- hoimd. Her invitation to Calais he pressed with great earnestness, and suggested that Marguerite de Yalois, the Queen of Navarre, should be brought down to enter- 384 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. s. tain her. The Queen of France, being a Spaniard, would hot, he thought, he welcome : ' the sight of a Spanish dress beiag as hateful in the King of England's eyes as the devil himself.' In other respects the re- ception shoidd he as magnificent as possible, ' and I be- seech you,' he concluded, ' keep out of the Court deux sortes de gens, the Imperialists, and the wits and mockers ; the English can endure neither of them.' ' Through the tone of this language the contempt is easily visible with which the affair was regarded in the French Court. But for Francis to receive in public the rival of Queen Catherine, to admit her into his family. ^ Francis seems to have desired that the intention of the interview should he kept secret. Henry found this impossihle. ' Monseigneur,' \vrote the Bishop of Paris to the Grand Master, ' quant a tenir la chose secrette comnie vous le de- mandez, il est mal aise; combien que ce Roy fust bien de cest advis, sinoB qu'il le treuve impossible ; car a cause de ces provisions et choses, qu'il fault falre en ce Koy- aulme, incontinent sera sceu a Lon- dres, et de la par tout le monde. Pourquoy ne faictes vostre compte qu'on le puisse tenir secret. ' Monseigneur, je scjay veritable- nient et de bon lieu que le plus grant plaisir que le Roy pourroit faire au Roy son frere et a Madame Anne, c'est que le dit seigneur m'escripre que je requiere le Roy son dit frere qu'il veuille mener la diete Dame Anne avec luy a Callais pom- la veoir et pour la festoyer, afin qu'ils ne demeurrent ensembles sans oompagnie de dames, pour ce que les bonnes cheres en sont tons jours meilleures : mais il fauldroit que en pareil le Roy menast la Royne de Navarre i Boulogne, pour festoyer le Roy d'Angleterre. ' Quant a la Royne pour rien ce Roy ne vouldroit qu'elle vint : II hait cest habillement a, I'EspagnoUe, tant qu'il luy eemble veoir un diable. II desireroit qu'E pleust au Roy mener a Boulogne, messeigneurs ses enfans pour les veoir. ' Surtout je vous prie que vous ostez de la court deux sort«s de gens, ceulx qui sont imperiaulx, s'aucuns en y a, et ceux qui ont la reputation d'estre mocqueurs et gaudisseurs, car c'ost bicn la chose en ce monde autanthiaie deceste nation.' — Bishop of Pai is to the Grand Master -. Le- GEASD, vol. iii. pp. sss, 556. «532] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 38s and to bring his sister from Paris to entertain her, was to declare in the face of Europe, in a manner which would leave no doubt of his sincerity, that he intended to countenance Henry. With this view only was the reception of Anne desired by the King .of England ; with this view it was recommended by the Bishop, and assented to by the French Court. Nor was this the only proof which Francis was prepared to give, that he was in earnest. He had promised to distribute forty thousand crowns at Rome, in bribing cardinals to give their voices for Henry in the consistory, with other possible benefactions.^ He had further volunteered his good offices with the Court of Scotland, where matters were growing serious, and where his influence could be used to great advantage. ' Sir Gregory Cassalis to Henry VIII. : Bdenet's Collectanea, p. 433. Valdeeiistimaljani necessarium earn hoc Principe (t. «., Francis) agere nt duobus Cardinalibns daret in mandatis ut ante omnes Cardinalis de Monte meminissent, eique pen- gionem annaam saltern trlum miUinm aareoram ex qnadraginta millibus qme mihi diserat Telle in Cardinales distribnere, assignaret. Et Rex qni- dem bsec etiam scribi ad duos Car- dinales jnssit secretario Vitandri. Quicum ego postmodo super iis pensionibns sennonem habui, cog- noviqae sic in animo Begem habere ntdno Cardinales cnm Bomse fiierint, ndeant, qni potissimam digni h^c Begi^ BJnt liberalitate ; in eosque quam quid in Begno Galliae ecclesi- TOL. I. asticum -vacare contigerit ex meritis uniuscuj usque pensiones conferantur. Tunc autem nihil in promptu haberi quod Cardinal! de Monte dari possit — verum Begio nomine illi de futuro esse promittendum quod mihi certe summopere displicuit ; et secretario Vitandri non reticui ostendens polli- citationes hnjusmodi centies jam CardinaU de Monte factas fuisse ; et modo si iterura fiant nihil effecturas nisi ut illius viri quasi nlcera per- tractent; id quod Vitandris verum esse fatebatur pollicitusque est se, quura Bex a venatu rediisset velle ei suadere ut Cardinalem de Monte aliqui presenti pensione prosequa- tur ; qua quidem tibi nihil conduci- bilios ant opportunius fieri possit. 25 386 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. The ability of James the Fifth to injure Henry happily fell short of his inclination, but encouraged by secret promises from Clement and from the Emperor, he was waiting his opportunity to cross the Border with an army ; and in the mean time he was feeding with effici- ent support a rebellion in Ireland. Of what was occur-> ring at this time in that perennially miserable country I shall speak in a separate chapter. It is here sufficient to mention, that on the 23rd of August, Henry received information that McConnell of the Isles, after receiving knighthood from James, had been despatched into Ulster with four thousand men,* and was followed by Mackane with seven thousand more on the 3rd of Sep- tember.^ Peace with England nominally continued; but the Kers, the Humes, the Scotts of Buccleugh, the advanced guard of the Marches, were nightly making forays across the Border, and open hostilities appeared to be on the point of explosion.' If war was to foUow, Henry was prepared for it. He had a powerful force at Berwick, and in Scotland itseK a large party were secretly attached to the English interests. The clan of Douglas, with their adherents, were even prepared for open revolt, and open transfer of allegiance.* But, al- ' State Fapers, vol. iv. p. 612. ' Ibid. p. 616. ' The State Papers contain a piteous picture of tliia business, the hereditary feuds of centuries bursting out on the first symptoms of ill-will between the two Governments, with fire and devastation, — State Papara, vol. iv. p. 620-644, * If the said Earl of Angus do make unto us oath of allegiance, and recognizes us as Supreme Lord of Scotland, and as his prince and sovereign, we then, the said Earl doing the premises, by these presents bind ourself to pay yearly to the said Earl the sum of one thousand pounds sterling.— Henry VIII. to the Earl 1532] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 387 thougt, Scottish nobles miglit be gained over, and Scot- tish armies might be defeated in the field, Scotland itself, as the experience of centuries had proYed, could never be conquered. The policy of the Tudors had been to abstain from aggression, till time should have soothed down the inherited animosity between the two countries; and Henry was unwilling to be forced into extremities which might revive the bitter memories of Flodden. The North- ern counties also, in spite of their Border prejudices, were the stronghold of the Papal party, and it was doubt- ful how far their allegiance could be counted upon in the event of an invasion sanctioned by the Pope. The hands of the English Government were already full without any superadded embarrassment, and the ofiered ■ . • /. m T October. m.ediation of Francis was gratefully welcomed. These were the circumstances imder which the second great interview was to take place between Francis the First and Henry of England.' Twelve years had passed of Angus : State Fapers, vol. iv. p. 615. ' A letter of Queen Catherine to the Emperor, written on the oc- casion of this visit, will be read with interest : — 'High and Mighty Loed,— Although your Majesty is occupied with your own affairs and with your preparations against the Turk, I cannot, ncTerthelesa, refrain from troubling you with mine, which per- haps in substance and in the sight of God are of equal importance. Your Majesty knows well, that God hears those who do him serrice, and no greater service can be done than to procure an end in this business. It does not concern only ourselves — it concerns equally all who fear God. None can measure the woes which will fall on Christendom, if his Holiness will not act in it and act promptly. The signs are all around us in new printed books full of lies and dishonesty — in the resolution to proceed with the cause here in Eng- land — in the interview of these two princes, where the King, my lord, is coveringbimself with infamy through the companion which he takes with hini. The coimtry is full of terror 388 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [en. 5. since their last meeting, and the experience whicli those years had brought to both of them, had probably subdued their inclination for splendid pageantry. Neyertheless, and scandal ; any evil may be looked for if notliing be done, and inasmuch as our only hope is in God's mercy, and in the favour of your Majesty, for the discharge of my conscience, I must let you know the strait in which I am placed. ' I implore your Highness for the servioe of God, that you urge his Holiness to be prompt in bringing the cause to a conclusion. The longer the delay the harder the remedy will be. ' The particulars of what is pass- ing here are so shocking, so outrage- ous against Almighty God, they touch 60 nearly the honour of my lord and husband, that for the loYe I bear him, and for the good that I desire for him, I would not have your Highness kiiow of them from me. Your ambassador will inform you of all.' — Queen Catherine to Charles V. September i8.— MS. Simancas. The Emperor, who was at Man- tua, was disturbed at the meeting at Boulogne, on political grounds as well as personal. On the 24th of October he wrote to his sister, at Brussels. Charles the Fifth to the Segent Mary. Mantua, October 16, 1532. I found your packets on arriving here, with the ambassadors' letters from France and England. The ambassadors will themselves have informed you of the intended con- ference of the kings. The results will malie themselves felt ere long. We must be on our guard, and I highly approve of your precautions for the protection of the frontiers. As to the report that the King of England means to take the oppor- tunity of the meeting to marry Anne Boleyn, I can hardly believe that he will be so blind as to do so, or that the King of France will lend him- self to the other's sensuality. At all events, however, I have written to my ministers at Home, and I have instructed them to lay a complaint before the Pope, that, while the process is yet pending, in contempt of the authority of the Church, the King of England is scandalously bringing over the said Anne with him, as if she were his wife. His Holiness and the Apostolic See will be the more inclined to do us justice, and to provide as the case shall require. Should the King indeed venture the marriage — as I cannot think he will — I have desired his Holiness not only not to sanction such conduct openly, but not to pass it byin silence. I have demanded that severe and fit- ting sentence be passed at once on an act so wicked and so derogatory to the Apostolic See. — The Pilgrim, p. 89. 1532] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 389 ia honour of the occasion, some faint revival was at- tempted of the magnificence of the Field of the Cloth of Gold. Anne Boleyn was invited duly ; and the Queen of Navarre, as the Bishop of Paris recommended, came down to Boulogne to receive her. The French princes came also to thank Henry in person for their deliverance out of their Spanish prison ; and he too, on his side, brought with him his young Marcellus, the Duke of Rich- mond, his only son — illegitimate unfortunately — but whose beauty and noble promise were at once his father's misery and pride ; giving point to his bitterness at the loss of his sons by Catherine ; quickening his hopes of what might be, and deepening his discontent with that which was. If this boy had Hved, he would have been named to follow Edward the Sixth in the succession, and would have been King of England ; ^ but he too passed away ' There can be little doubt of this. He was the child of the only intrigue of Henry VIII. of which any credible evidence exists. His mother was Elizabeth, daughter of Sir John Blunt, an accomplished and most interesting person ; and the offspring of the connection, one boy only, was brought up with the care and the state of ^ prince. Henry Fitz Eoy, as he was called, was bom in 1519, and when six years old was created Earl of Nottingham and Buke of Eichmond and Somerset, the title of the King's father. In 1527, before the commence- ment of the disturbance on the divorce, Henry endeavoured to ne- gotiate a marriage for him with a princess of the imperial blood ; and in the first overtures gave an inti- mation which could not be mistaken, of his intention, if possible, to place him in the line of the succession. After speaking of the desire which was felt by the King of England for some connection in marriage of the Houses of England and Spain, the ambassadors charged with the ne- gotiation were to say to Charles, that— ' His Highness can be content to bestow the Duke of Eichmond and Somerset (who is near of his blood, and of excellent qualities, and is already furnished to keep the state of a great prince, and yet may be easily iy the King's means exalted to 39° REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5- in the flower of Ms loveliness, one more evidence of the blight which reisted upon the stem of the Tudors. The English Court was entertained by Francis at Boulogne. The French Court was received in return at Calais by the EngHsh. The outward description of the scene, the magnificent train of the princes, the tourna- ments, the feasts, the dances, wiQ be found minutely given in the pages of Hall, and need not be repeated higher things) to some noble princess of his near bloocl.' — Ellis, third series, vol. ii. p. 121. He was a gallant, high-spirited hoy. A letter is extant from him to AVolsey, written when he was nine years old, begging the cardinal to intercede with the King, 'for an harness to exercise myself in arms according to my erudition in the Commentaries of Cajsar.' — Ibid. p. 119. He was brought up with Lord Surrey, who has left a beautiful ac- count of their boyhood at Windsor — their tournaments, their hunts, their young .lores, and passionate friend- ship. Richmond married Surrey's sister, but died the year after, when only seventeen ; and Surrey revisit- ing "Windsor, recalls his image among the scenes which they had enjoyed together, in the most interesting of all his poems. He speaks of The secret grove, which oft we made resound Of pleasant plaint and of our ladies' praise ; Eecording oft what grace each one had found. What hope of speed, what dread of long delays. The wild forest ; the clothed holts with green ; With reins availed, and swift y-breathed horse, With cry of hounds, and merry blasts between. Where we did chase the fearful hart of force. The void walls eke that harboured us each night, AVherewith, alas ! reviveth in my breast The sweet accord, such sleeps as yet delight The pleasant dream, the quiet bed of rest ; The secret thoughts imparted with such trust, The wanton talk, the divers change of play. The friendship sworn, each promise kept so just. Wherewith we past the winter nights away. 1532.] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 391 here. To Hall, indeed, the outward life of men, their exploits in war, and their pageantries in. peace, alone had meaning or interest; and the back-stairs secrets of Yatican diplomacy, the questioniags of opinion, and all the brood of mental sicknesses then beginning to dis- tract the world, were but impertinent interferences with the true business of existence. But the healthy objective- ness of an old English chronicler is no longer possible for us ; we may envy where we cannot imitate ; and our business is with such features of the story as are of mo- ment to ourselyes. The political questions which were to be debated at the conference, were three ; the Turkish Invasion, the General Council, and King Henry's divorce. On the first, it was decided that there was no im- mediate occasion for France and England to move. Solyman's retreat from Vienna had relieved Europe from present peril ; and the enormous losses which he had suffered, might prevent him from repeating the experiment. If the danger became again imminent, however, the two kings agreed to take the field in per- son the following year at the head of eighty thousand men. On the second point they came to no conclusion, but resolved only to act in common. On the third and most important, they parted with a belief that they understood each other; but their memories, or the memory of one of them, proved subse- quently treacherous ; and we can only extract what passed between them out of their mutual recriminations. 392 REIGN OF HENR Y THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5; It was determined certainly that at tlie earliest con- venient moment, a meeting slioidd take place between the Pope and Francis ; and that at this meeting Francis should urge in person concession to Henry's demands. If the Pope professed himself unatle to risk the dis- pleasure of the Emperor, it should be suggested that he might return to Ayignon, where he would be secure under the protection of France and England. If he was still reluctant, and persisted in asserting his right to compel Henry to plead before him at Eome, or if he followed up his citations by inhibitions, suspensions, ex- communications, or other form of censure, Francis de- clared that he would support Henry to the last, whether against the Pope himself or against any prince or poten- tate who might attempt to enforce the sentence. On this point the promises of the King of France were most profuse and decided ; and although it was not expressly stated in words, Henry seems to have persuaded himself that, if the Pope pressed matters to extremities, Francis had engaged further that the two countries should pur- sue a common course, and unite in a common schism. The two princes did in fact agree, that if the general coimcil which they desired was refused, they would sum- mon provincial councils on their own authority. Each of them perhaps interpreted their engagements by their own wishes or interests.^ ' Compare Lord Heebert with A Paper of Instructions to Lord Eochfort on his Mission to Paris : State Fapers, vol. yii. p. 427, &c. ; and A Bemonstrance of Francis I. to Henry VIIX. : Legrand, vol. iii. p. 571, &c. It would be curious to know whether Francis ever actu-., aUy wrote to the Pope a letter of which Henry sent him a draft. If IS32-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN: 393 We may further believe, since it was affirmed by Henry, and not denied by Francis, tbat the latter advised Henry to bring the dispute to a close, by a measure from ■which he could not recede ; that he recommended him to act on the general opinion of Europe that his marriage with Queen Catherine was nidi, and at once upon his return to England to make Anne Boleyn his wife.* So far the account is clear. This advice was certainly given, and as certainly Francis undertook to support Henry through all the consequences in which the mar- riage might involve him. But a league for mutual de- fence fell short of what Henry desired, and feU short also of what Francis, by the warmth of his manner, had in- duced Henry for the moment to believe that he meant. he did, there are expressions con- tained in it which amount to a threat of separation. In case the Pope was ohstinate Francis was to say, ' Lors force seroit de pourvoir audict affaire, par autres voyes et fa^ons, qui pent etre, ne vous seroint jjneres agreable.' — State Papers, vol. viL p. 436. ' A nostre derniere entrevue sur la fratcmelle et familiere communi- cation que nous eusmes ensemble de noz affaires venant aux nostres, Luy declarasmes comme a tord et injust- ment nous estions affligcz, dilayez, et fort ingratement manniez et troublez, en nostre dicte grande et pesante matiere de marriage par la particuliere affection de Tempereur et du pape. Lesquelz sembloient par leurs longucs retardations de nostre dicte matiere ne sercher autre chose, sinon par longue attente et laps de temps, nous frustrer mali- cieusement du propoz, qui plus nous induict a poursuivir et mettre avant la dicte matiere ; c'est davoir mas- culine succession et posterite en laqaelle nous etablirons (Dieu von- lant) le quiet repoz et tranquiUite de notre royaulme et dominion. Son fraternel, plain, et cntier advis (et a bref dire le meilleuir qui pour- roit estre) fut tel ; il nous conseilla de ne dilayer ne protractor le temps plus longuement, mais en touto celerite proceder effectuellement a a laccomplisment et consummation de nostre marriage. — Henry A^IITi to Eochfort : State Papers, vol. Tii. p. 428-9. 394 REIGJSr OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. It is probable tbat tbe latter pressed upon bim engage- ments wbicb be avoided by taking refuge in general pro- fessions ; and no sooner bad Henry returned to England, tban eitber misgivings occurred to bim as to tbe substan- tial results of tbe interview, or be was anxious to make tbe Frencb King commit bimself more definitely. He sent to bim to beg tbat be would eitber write out, or dictate and sign, tbe expressions wbicb be bad used; professiag to wisb it only for tbe comfort wbicb be would derive from tbe continual presence of sucb refresbiag words — ^but surely for some deeper reason.' Francis bad perbaps said more tban be meant ; Henry supposed bim to bave meant more tban be said. Yet some promise was made, wbicb was not afterwards observed ; and Francis aclaiowledged some engagement in an apology wbicb be offered for tbe breacb of it. He asserted, in defence of bimself, tbat be bad added a etipidation wbicb Henry passed over in silence, — tbat ' The extent of Francis's engage- ments, as Henry represents them, was this : — He had promised qu'eu icelle nostre dicte cause jamais ne nous abandonneroit qnelque chose que sen ensuyst ; ainsi de tout son pouToir I'establiroit, supporteroit, aideroit et maintiendroit notre hon droict, et le droict de la posterite et succession qui sen pourroit ensuyr ; et a tons ceuiz qui y vouldroyent mettre trouble, empeschement, en- combrance, ou y procurer deshon- neur, vitupere, ou infraction, il seroit enemy et adversaire de tout son pou- voir, de quelconque estat qu'il soit fust pape ou empereur, — avecque plusieurs autres consolatives paroles. This he wished Francis to commit to paper. Car autant de fois, que les verrions, he says, qui seroit tons les jours, nous ne pourrions, si non les liscent,imagiueret reduire a notre souvenanoe la bonne grace facunde et geste, dont il les nous pronon9ait, et estimer estre comme face a face, parlans aveeque luy. — State JPapera, vol. vii. p. 437. Evidently language of so wide a kind might admit of many interpretations. 1532.] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 393 no steps slioiild be taken towards anniilling the marriage ■ffitli Catherine in the English law courts until the effect had heen seen of his interview with the Pope, provided the Pope on his side remained similarly inactive.^ What- ever it was which he had bound himself to do, this con- dition, if made at all, could be reconciled only with his advice that Henry should marry Anne Boleyn without further delay, on the supposition that the interview in question was to take place immediately ; for the natural consequences of the second marriage woxdd involve, as a matter of course, some speedy legal declaration with respect to the first. And when on various pretexts the Pope postponed the meeting, and on the other part of his suggestion Henry had acted within a few months of his return from Calais, it became impossible that such a condition could be observed. It availed for a formal excuse ; but Francis vainly endeavoured to disguise his own infirmity of purpose behind the language of a ne- gotiation which conveyed, when it was iised, a meaning widely different. The conference was concluded on the ist of Novem- ber, but the Court was detained at Calais for a fur- ther fortnight by violent gales in the Channel. In the excited state of public feeling, events in them- selves ordinary asstmied a preternatural significance. The friends of Queen Catherine, to whom the meeting between the kings was of so disastrous augury, and the nation generally, which an accident to Henry at such a time would have plunged into a chaos of confusion, alike ' Legrand, vol. iii. p. 571, &c. 396 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. watched the storm with anxious agitation ; on the King's return to London, Te Deums were offered ia the churches, as if for his deKverance from some extreme and imminent peril. The Nun of Kent on this great occasion was admitted to conferences with angels. She denounced the meeting, under celestial instruction, as a conspiracy against Heaven. The King, she said, but for her interposition, would have proceeded, while at Calais, to his impious marriage ; ' and God was so angry with him, that he was not permitted to profane with his un- holy eyes the blessed sacrament. ' It was written in her revelations,' says the statute of her attainder, ' that '' Note of the Eevelations of Eliz. Barton : HolU Souse MS. Sup- pression of the Monasteries, p. 1 7. The intention was really perhaps what the Nun said. An agent of the Government at Brussels, who was watching the conference, re- ported on the 12th of Novemher : — ' The King of England did really cross with the intention of marrying ; but, happily for the Emperor, the ceremony is postponed. Of other secrets, my informant has learned thus much. They have resolved to demand as the portion of the Queen of France, Artois, Tournay, and part of Burgundy. They have also sent two Cardinals to Eome to require the Pope to relinquish the tenths, which they have begun to levy for them- selves. If his Holiness refuse, the King of England will simply appro- priate them throughout his domin- ions. Captain heard this from the King's proctor at Rome, who has been with him at Calais, and from an Italian named Jeronymo, whom the Lady Anne has roughly handled for managing her business badly. She trusted that she would have been married in September. ' The proctor told her the Pope delayed sentence for fear of the Em- peror. The two Kings, when they heard this, despatched the cardinals to quicken his movements ; and the demand for the tenths is thought to have been invented to frighten him. ' They are afraid that the Em- peror may force his Holiness into giving sentence before the cardinals arrive. Jeronymo has been there- fore sent forvvard by post to give him notice of their approach, and to require him to mate no decision till they have spoken with him.'— 27»e Pilgrim, p. 89. 1S32-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 397 when the Bang's Grace was at Calais, and his Majesty and the French King were hearing mass in the church of Our Lady, that God was so displeased with the King's Highness, that his Grace saw not at that time the blessed sacrament ia the form of bread, for it was taken away from the priest, being at mass, by an angel, and was ministered to the said Elizabeth, there being pre- sent and invisible, and suddenly conveyed and rapt thence again into the nunnery where she was professed.' ^ She had an interview with Henry on his return through Canterbury, to try the effect of her Cassandra presence on his fears ; ^ but if he stiU delayed his mar- riage, it was probably neither because he was frightened by her denunciations, nor from alarm at the usual oc- currence of an equinoctial storm. Many motives com- bined to dissuade him from further hesitation. Six years of trifling must have convinced him that by de- cisive action alone he could force the Pope to a conclu- sion. He was growing old, and the exigencies of the succession, rendered doubly pressing by the long agita- tion, required immediate resolution. He was himself satisfied that he was at liberty to marry whom he pleased and when he pleased, his relationship to Catherine, ac- cording to his recent convictions, being such as had rendered his connection with her from the beginning invalid and void. His own inclinations and the in- terests of the nation pointed to the same course. The King of France had advised it. Even the Pope him- ' 25 Hen. VIII. cap. 12. ' £evelatioiis of Eliz. Barton : Molls Smse MS. 398 REIGX OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [gh. 5. self, at the outset of the discussion, had advised it also. ' Marry freely,' the Pope had said ; ' fear nothing, and all shall be arranged as you desire.' He had forborne to take the Pope at his word ; he had hoped that the justice of his demands might open a less violent way to him ; and he had shrunk from a step which might throw even a causeless shadow over the legitimacy of the off- spriag for which he longed. The case was now changed ; no other alternative seemed to be open to his choice, and it was necessary to bring the matter to- a close once and for aU. But Henry, as he said himself, was past the age when passion or appetite would be likely to move him, and having waited so many years, he could afford to wait a little longer, tiU. the eifects of the Calais confer- ences upon the Pope should have had time to show themselves. In December, Clement was to meet the Emperor at Bologna. In the month following, it might be hoped that he would meet Francis at Marseilles or Avignon, and from their interview would be seen con- clusively the future attitude of the Papal and Imperial Courts. Experience of the past forbade anything like sangiiiae expectation; yet it was not impossible that the Pope might be compelled at last to yield the re- quired concessionsi The terms of Henry's imderstand- ing with Prancis were not perhaps made public, but he was allowed to dictate the language which the French cardinals were to make use of in the consistory ; ' and Ltoit Papers, vol. yii. pp. 435, 468. 1532] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 399 the reception of Anne Boleyn by the French King was equivalent to the most emphatic declaration that if the censures of the Church were attempted in defence of Catheriae, the enforcement of them would be resisted by the combined arms of France and England. And the Pope did in fact feel himself in a dilemma from which all his address was required to extricate him. He had no support from his conscience, for he knew that he was acting imjustly ia refusing the di- vorce ; while to risk the Emperor's anger, which was the only honest course before him, was perha,ps for that very reason impossible. He fell back upon his Italian cun- ning, and it did not fail him in his need. But his con- duct, though creditable to his ingenuity, reflects less pleasantly on his character; and when it is traced through all its windings, few reasonable persons wUl thiak that they have need to blush at the causes which led to the last breach between England and the Papacy. From the time of Catheriae's appeal and the retire- ment of Campeggio, Clement, with rare exceptions, had maintained an attitude of impassive reserve. He had allowed judgment to be delayed on various pretexts, because vintil that time delay had answeredhis purposes sufficiently. But to the English agents he had been studiously cold, not condescending even to hold out hopes to them that concession might be possible. Some little time before the meeting at Calais, however, a change was observed in the language both of the Pope himself and of the consistory. The cardinals were visibly afraid of the position which had been taken by 400 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH [CH. .5. the French King; questions supposed to be closed were once more admitted to debate in a manner which seemed to show that their resolution was wavering ; and one day, at the close of a long argument, the following curi- ous conversation took place between some person (Sir Gregory Cassalis, apparently), who reported it to Henry, and Clement himself. ' I had desired a private inter- view with his Holiness,' says the writer, ' intending to use all my endeavours to persuade him to satisfy your Majesty. But although I did my best, I could obtain nothing from him ; he had an answer for everything Avhich I advanced, and it was in vain that I laboured to remove his difficulties. At length, however, in reply to something which I had proposed, he said shortly, — Multo minus scandalosum fuisset dispensare cum ma- j estate vestra super duabus uxoribus, quam ea cedere quae ego petebam. It icoitld have created less scandal to have granted your Majesty a dispensation to have two wives tJian to concede ivhat I was then demanding. As I did not know how far this alternative would be pleasing to your Ma- jesty, I endeavoured to divert him from it, and to lead him back to what I had been previously saying. He was silent for a while, and then, paying no regard to my interruption, he continued to speak of the "two wives," admitting however that thei'e were difficidties in the way of such an arrangement, principally it seemed because the Emperor would refuse his consent from the possible injury which it might create to his cousin's prospects of the succession. I replied, that as to the succession, I coiild not see what right the Emperor had I532-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLE YN. 401 to a voice upon the matter. If some lawful means could be discovered by which your Majesty could furnish your- self with male offspring, the Emperor could no more justly complain than if the Queen were to die and the prospects of the princess were iaterfered with by a second marriage of an ordinary kiad. To this the Pope made no answer. I cannot teU. what your Majesty wUl think, nor how far this suggestion of the Pope would be pleasing to your Majesty. Nor indeed can I feel sure, in consequence of what he said about the Emperor, that he actually would grant the dispensation of which he spoke. I have thought it right, however, to inform ■ you of what passed.' ' This letter is undated, but it was written, as appears from internal evidence, some time in the year 1533.^ ' Letter from , containing an account of an interview with his Holiness : Rolls Souse MS. ' The proposal was originally the King's (see chapter 2), but it had been dropped because one of the conditions of it had been Catherine's ' entrance into relision.' The Pope, however, had not lost sight of the alternative, as one of which, in case of extremity, he might avail himself; aad, in 1530, in a short interval of relaxation, he had definitely offered the King a dispensation to have two wives, at the instigation, curiously, of the Imperialists. The following letter Avas written on that occasion to the King by Sir Gregory Cassa- lis:— Screnissime et potentissirae do- VUL. 1. mine rex, domine mi supreme bu- millima commeudatione premissa, salutem et felicitatem. Supcrioribus diebus Pontifei secreto, veluti rem quam magni faceret, mihi proposuit conditionem hujusmodi ; conccdi posse vestrse majestati, ut iaaa ux- ores habeat ; cui dixi nolle me pro- vinciam suscipere ek de re scribendi, ob earn caiisara quod ignorarem au inde vestrae conscientise satisfieri posset quam vestra majestas im- primis exonerare cupit. Cur au- tem sic responderem, illud in causa fuit, quod ex certo loco, nude quic CiBsariani moliantur aucupari soleo exploratum certumque habebam Cse- sarianos illud ipsum quaerere et pro- curare, Quem vero ad finem id quaerant pro certo exprimere nori 26 402 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. The Pope's language was ambiguous, and the writer did not allow himself to derive from it any fayourable augury ; but the tone in which the suggestions had been made was by many degrees more favourable than had been heard for a very long time in the quarter from which they came, and the symptoms which it promised of a change of feeling were more than confirmed in the following winter. Charles was to be at Bologna in the middle of De- cember, where he was to discuss with Clement the situ- ation of Europe, and in particidar of Germany, with the desirableness of fulfilling the engagements into w,hich he had entered for a general council. This Was the avowed object of the meeting. But, however important the question of holding a council was becoming, it was not immediately pressing ; and we cannot doubt that the disquiet occasioned by the alliance of England and France was the cause that the con- ference was held at so inconvenient a season. The Pope left Rome on the 18th of November, having in his train a person who afterwards earned for himself a dark name in English history, Dr Bonner, then a famous canon lawyer attached to the embassy. The journey in the ausim. Id oerte totum vestrse pru- dentise considerandum relinquo. £t quamvis dixerim Pontifioi, nihil me de eo scripturum, nolui tameu ma- jestati vestrse hoc retioere ; quae sciai omni me industri^ laborSsse in lis quae nobis mandat exequendis et cum Anoonitano qui me familiariter uti solet, omnia sum conatus. Ce omnibus autem me ad communes literas rejicio. Optime valeat vestra majestas. — Eomse die xfiii. Sep- tembris, 1530. Claiissimi vestrai Majestatis, Humillimus servus, Gbboobids Cassalis. — Lord Hebbert, p. 140. 1532.] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 403 wild weatlier was extremely miserable; and Bonner, whose style was as graphic as it was coarse, sent home a humorous account of it to Cromwell.' Three wretched weeks the party were upon the road, plunging through mire and water. They reached Bologna on the 8th of December, where," four days after them, arrived Charles V. It is important, as we shall presently see, to ob- serve the dates of these movements. I shall have to compare with them the successive issues of several curi- ous documents. On the 12th of December the Pope and the Emperor met at Bologna ; on the 24th Dr Bennet, Henry's able secretary, who had been despatch- ed from England to be present at the conference, wrote to report the result of his observations. He had been admitted to repeated interviews with the Pope, as well before as after the Emperor's arrival ; and the language which the former made use of could only be understood, and was of course intended to be understood, as express- ing the attitude in which he was placing himself to- wards the Imperial faction. Bennet's letter was as fol- lows : — ' I have been sundry and many times with the Pope, as well afore the coming of the Emperour as sythen, yet I have not at any time found his Holiness more tractable or prepense to show gratuity unto your Highness than now of late, — insomuch that he hath more freely opened his mind than he was accustomed, and said also that he would speak with me frankly without any observance or ' State Papers, vol. yii. p. 394, &o. 404 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. respect at all. At vrliicli time I greatly lamented tliat (your Highness' s cause being so just) no means could be found and taken to satisfy your Highness therein ; and I said also that I doubted not but that (if his Holi- ness would) -ways might be found by his wisdom, now at the Emperour's being with him, to satisfy your High- ness ; and that done, his Holiness should not only have your Highness in as much or more friendship than he hath had heretofore, but also procure thereby that thing which his Holiness hath chiefly desired, which is, as he hath said, a universal concord among the princes of Christendom. His Holiness answered, that he would it had cost him a joint of his hand that such a way might be excogitate ; and he said also, that the best thing which he coidd see to be done therein at this present, for a preparation to that purpose, was the .thing which is con- tained in the first part of the cipher.* Speaking of the ' The obtaining the opinion in writing of the late Cardinal of An- cona, and submitting it to the Em- peror. This minister, the most aged as well as the most influential member of the conclave, had latterly been supposed to be inclined to ad- vise a conciliatory policy towards England ; and his judgment was of 80 much weight that it was thought likely that the Emperor would have been unable to resist the publication of it, if it was given against him. At the critical moment of the Bo- logna interview this cardinal un- fortunately died : ho bad left his ecutiments, however, in the hands of his nephew, the Cardinal of Ea- venna, who, knowing the value of his legacy, was disposed to make a market of it. It was a knavish piece of business. The English ambas- sadors offered 3000 ducats ; Charles bid them out of the field with a promise of Church benefices to the extent of 6000 ducats ; he did not know precisely the terms of the judgment, or even on which side it inclined, but in either case the pur- chase was of equal importance to him, either to produce it or to sup- press it. The French and English ambassadors then combined, and bid again with Church benefices in the 1532] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 40s justness of your cause, lie called to his remembrance the thing which he told me two years past ; which was, that the opinion of the lawyers was more certain, favourahle, and helping to your cause than the opinion of the divines ) for he said that, as far as he could perceive, the lawyers, though they held quod Papa possit dispensare in this case, yet they commonly do agree quod hoc fieri deheat ex maxima cau^a, adhibita causae cognitione, which is this case doth not appear ; and he said, that \a come to the truth herein he had used aU diligence pos- sible, and inquired the opinion of learned men, being of fame and indifierency both in the Court here and in other places. And his Holiness promised me that he would hereia use all good policy and dexterity to imprint the same in the Emperour's head ; which done, he reckoneth many things to be invented that may be pleasant and profitable to your Highness ; adding yet that this is not to be done with a fury, but with leisure and as occasion shall serve, lest if he should otherwise do, he should let and hinder that good effect which peradventure might ensue thereby.' ^ This letter has all the character of truth about it. two countries, of equal value with those offered by Charles, with a promise of the next English bishopric which fell vacant, and the original 3000 ducats as an initiatory fee. There was a dilEculty in the transac- tion, for the cardinal would not part with the paper tUl he had received the ducats, and the ambassadors would not pay the ducats till they had possession of the paper. The Italian, however, proved an over- match for his antagonists. He got his money, and the judgment was not produced after all. — State Papers, vol. vii. pp. 397-8, 464. BtTENET, vol. iii. p. 108. ' Eennet to Henry VIII. Decem- ber 24: Slate Papers, vol. vii. p. 402. .406 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. The secretary had no interest in deceiving Henry, and it is quite certain that, whether honestly or not, the Pope had led him to believe that his sympathies were again on the English side, and that he was using his best endeavours to subdue the Emperor's opposition. On the 36th of December, two days later. Sir Gregory Cassahs, who had -also followed the Papal Court to Bologna, wrote to the same effect. He, too, had been with the Pope, who had been very open and confidential with him. The Emperor, the Pope said, had complained of the delay in the process, but he had assured him that it was impossible for the consistory to do" more than it had done. The opinion of the theologians was on the v/hole against the Papal power of dispensation in cases of so close relationship ; of the canon lawyers part agreed with the theologians, and those who differed from them were satisfied that such a power might not be exercised .unless there were most urgent cause, unless, that is, the safety of a kingdom were dependent upon it. Such occasion he had declared that he could not find to have existed for the dispensation granted by his prede- cessor. The Emperor had replied that there had been such occasion: the dispensation had been granted to prevent war between Spain and England; and that otherwise great calamities would have befallen both countries. But this was manifestly untrue ; and his Holiness said that he had answered. It was a pity, then, that these causes had not been submitted at the time, as the reason for the demand, which it was clear that they had not been ; as the case stood, it was impossible for 1532.] MARRIAGE WITH AA^NE BOLEYN. 407 him. to proceed further. Upon which he added, 'Se vidisse Ccesarem obstupefactum.' 'I write the words,' contiaued Sir Gregory, ' exactly as the Pope related them to me. "Whether, he really spoke in this way, I cannot tell ; of this, however, I am sure, that on the day of our conTcrsation he had taken the blessed sacrament. He assured me further, that he had laboured to iaduce the Emperor to permit him to satisfy your Majesty. I recommended him that when next the Emperor spoke with him upon the subject, he should enter at greater length on the question of justice, and that some other person should be .present at the conference, that there might be no room left for suspicion.' "^ The manner of Clement was so imlilce what Cassalis had been in the habit of witnessiag in him, that he was unable, as we see, wholly to persuade himself that the change was sincere : the letter, however, was despatched to England, and was followed iti a few days by Bonner, who brought with hioi the result of the Pope's good will in the form of definite propositions — instructions of simi- lar purport having been forwarded at the same time to the Papal nuncio in England. The Pope, so Henrj' was informed, was now really well disposed to do what was required ; he had urged upon the Emperor the necessit j' of concessions, and the cause might be settled in one of two ways, to either of which he was himself ready to consent. Catherine had appealed against judgment • Sir Gregory Cassalis to the King : Rolls Souse MS., endorsed by Henry, Litterse in Pontificis dicta declaratorise quae maxime causam nostram probant. 4o8 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. tcH. 5. Dec. 26. being passed in England, as a place which was not in- different. Henry had refused to allow his cause to be heard anywhere but ia his own realm; pleading first his privilege as a sovereign prince ; and secondly, his exemption as an Englishman.^ The Pope, with appear- ance of openness, now suggested that Henry should either ' send a mandate requiring the remission of his cause to an indifferent place, in which case he would himself surrender his claim, to have it tried in the courts at Rome, and would appoint a legate and two auditors to hear the trial elsewhere ; ' or else, a truce of three or four years being concluded between England, France, and Spain, the Pope would ' with all celerity indict a general council, to which he would ab- solutely and wholly remit the consideration of the ques- tion.' ^ Both proposals carried on their front a show of fair dealing, and if honestly proffered, were an evidence that something more might at length be hoped than words. But the true obstacle to a settlement lay, as had been long evident, rather in the want of an honest will, than ia legal difficulties or uncertainty as to the justice of the cause ; and while neither of the alterna- tives as they stood were admissible or immediately desir- able, there were many other roads, if the-point of honesty were once made good, which would lead more readily to ' There was a tradition (it can- not he called more), that no English- man could be compelled against his ■will to plead at a foreign tribunal. 'Ne Angli extra Angliara litigare January. cogantur.' ' Henry VIII. to the Ambas- sadors with the Pope : Rolls Home MS. 1532-3.] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLBYN: 409 the desired end. Once for all Henry could not consent to plead out of England ; while an appeal to a council ■would occupy more time than the condition of the country could conveniently allow. But the offer had been courteously made ; it had been accompanied with language which might be sincere : and the King replied with grace, and almost with cordiality; not wholly giving Clement his confidence, but expressing a hope that he might soon be no longer justified in withholding it. He was im.able, he said, to accept the first condition, because it was contrary to his coronation oath ; 'it so highly touched the prerogative royal of the realm, that though he were minded to do it, yet must he abstain without the assent of the court of Parliament, which he thought verily would never condescend to it.' ^ The other suggestion he did not absolutely reject, but the gathering of a council was too serious a matter to be precipitated, and the situation of Christendom presented many obstacles to a measure which would be useless imless it were carried through by all thei great powers in a spirit of cordial unanimity. He trusted therefore that if the Pope's intentions were really such as he pre- tended to entertain, he would find some method more convenient of proving his sincerity. It was happy for Henry that experience had taught him to be distrustful. Events proved too clearly that Clement's assumed alteration of tone was no more than a manoeuvre designed to entice him to withdraw from Henry VIII. to the Ambassadors with the Pope : Rails Hotise MS. 410 [REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. the position ia which he had entrenched himself, and to induce him to acknowledge that he was amenable to an earthly authority exterior to his own realm.^ In his offer to refer the cause to a general council, he proved that he was insincere, when in the following year he refused to allow a council to be a valid tribunal for the trial of it. The course which he would have followed if the second alternative had been accepted, may be conjectured from the measures which, as I shall pre- sently show, he was at this very moment secretly pur- suing. Henry, however, had happily resolved that he would be trifled with no further ; he felt instinctively that only action would cut the net in which he was en- tangled ; and he would not hesitate any longer to take a step which, ia one way or another, must bring the weary question to a close. If the Pope meant well, he would welcome a resolution which made further procras- tination impossible ; if he did not mean well, he could not be permitted to dally further with the interests of the English nation. "Within a few days, therefore, of Bonner's return from Bologna, he took the final step from which there was no retreat, and ' somewhere about St Paid's day,' ^ Anne Boleyn received the prize for Jan. 25. ' So at least the English Go- Ternment was at last convinced, as appears in the circular to the clergy, printed in Buenet's Collectanea, p. 447, &c. I try to helieve, however, that the Pope's conduct was rather weak than treacherous. ' So at least Cranmer says ; hut he was not present, nor was he at the time informed that it was to tali.6 place.— Ei.Lis, first series, vol. ii. p. 32. The belief, however, generally was, that the marriage took place in November ; and though Cranmer's evidence is very strong, his lan- guage is too vague to he decisive. »S32-3] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 411 wMch slie had thirsted seven long years, in the hand of the King of England. The ceremony was private. No authentic details are known either of the scene of it or the circumstances under which it took place ; hut it is said to have been performed by the able Rowland Lee, Bishop of Lichfield, summoned up for the purpose from the Welsh ^larches, of which he was warden. It was done, however — in one way or other finally done — -the cast was thrown, and a match was laid to the train which now at length could explode the spell of intrigue, and set Henry and England free. We have arrived at a point from which the issue of the labyrinth is clearly \isible. The course of it has been verj'' dreary ; and brought in contact as we ha^•e been with so much which is painful, so much which is discreditable to all parties concerned, we may perhaps have lost our sense of the broad bearings of the question in indiscriminate disgust. It will be well, therefore, to pause for a moment to recapitulate those features of the story which are the main indications of its character, and may serve to guide our judgment in the censure which we shall pass. It may be admitted, or it ought to be admitted, that if Henry VIII. had been contented to rest his demand for a divorce merely on the interests of the kingdom, if he had forborne, while his request was pending, to afiront the princess who had for many years been his companion and his queen ; if he had shown her that respect which her high character gave her a right to demand, and which her situation as a stranger ought to have made it im- 412 . REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. possible to him to refuse ; his conduct would have been liable to no imputation, and our sympathies would without reserve have been on his side. He could not have been expected to love a person to whom he had been married as a boy for political convenience, merely because she was his wife ; especially when she was many years his senior in age, disagreeable ia her person, and by the consciousness of it embittered in her temper. His king- dom demanded the security of a stable succession ; his conscience, it may not be doubted, was seriously agitated by the loss of his children ; and looking upon it as the sentence of Heaven upon a connection, the legaKty of which had from the first been violently disputed, he be- lieved that he had been living in incest, and that his misfortimes were the consequence of it. Under these circumstances he had a full right to apply for a divorce.* The causa urgentissima of the canon law for which, by the Pope's own showing, the dispensing powers had been granted to him, had arisen ia an extreme form ; and M'hen the vital interests of England were sacrificed to the will of a foreign prince, su£B.cient reason had arisen for the nation to decline submission to so emphatic in- justice, and to seek within itself its own remedies for its ' Individual interests have to yield necessarily and justly to the interests of a nation, provided the conduct or the sacrifice which the nation requires is not sinful. That there would have been any siu on Queen Catherine's part if she had consented to n. separation from the King, was never pretended ; and although it is a difficult and delicate matter to decide how far unwilling persons may be compelled to do what they ought to have done with- out compulsion, yet the will of a single man or woman cannot be al- lowed to constitute ilself an irre- movable obstacle to a great national good. IS32-3-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 413 own necessities. These considerations must be allowed all their weiglit ; and except for ttem, it is not to be supposed tbat Henry would have permitted private dis- taste or iaclination to iaduce bim to create a scandal in Europe. In his conduct, bowever, as in tbat of most men, good was chequered witb evil, and siQcerity with self-deception. Personal feeliag can be traced from the first, holding a subsidiary, indeed, but still an ia- fluential place, among his motives ; and exactly so far as he was influenced by it, his course was wrong, as tbe consequence miserably proved. The position which, ia his wife's presence, he assigned to another woman, however he may have persuaded himself that Catherine had no claim to be considered his wife, admits neither 'of excuse nor of palliation; and he ought never to have shared his throne with a person who consented to occupy that position. He was blind to the coarse- ness of Anne Boleyn, because, in spite of his chival- ry, his genius, his accomplishments, in his relations with women he was without deKcacy himself. He directed, or attempted to direct, his conduct by the broad rules of what he thought to be just ; and in the wide margin of uncertain ground where rules of action cannot be prescribed, and where men must guide them- selves by consideration for the feelings of others, he — so far as women were concerned — was altogether or ahno&t a stranger. Such consideration is a virtue which can be learned only in the society of equals, where necessity obliges men to practise it. Henry had been a king from his boyhood ; he had been surrounded by courtiers 414 REIGN' OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [ctr. 5, who had anticipated all his desires ; and exposed as he was to an ordeal from which no human being could have escaped uninjured, we have more cause, after all, to ad- mire him for those excellences which he conquered for himself, than to hlame the defects which he retaiaed. But if in his private relations the King was hasty and careless, towards the Pope, to whom we must now return, he exhausted all resources of forbearance : and although, when separation from Rome was at length forced upon him, he then permitted no half measures, and swept iato his new career with the strength of irresistible will, it was not till he had shown resolution no less great ia the en- durance of indignity ; and of the three great powers ia Europe, the prince who was compelled to break the unity of the Catholic Church, was evidently the only one who was capable of real sacrifices to preserve it unbroken. Clement comprehended his reluctance, but presumed too far upon it ; and if there was sia in the ' great schism ' of the Reformation, the guilt must rest where it is due. We have now to show the reverse side of the transactions at Bologna, and explain what a person wearing the title of his Holiness, in virtue of his supposed sanctity, had been secretly doing. In January, 1532, some little time before his convers- ation with Sir Gregory Cassalis, on the subject of the two wives, the Pope had composed a pastoral letter to Henry, which had never been issued. From its con- tents it would seem to have been written on the receipt of an indignant remonstrance of Queen Catherine, in which she had complaiaed of her desertion by I532-3-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE B'OLEYN. 415 lier husband, and of the public position which had been given to her rival. She had supposed (and it was the natural mistake of an embittered and injured wo- man) that Anne Boleyn had been placed in possession of the rights of an actual, and not only of an intended wife ; and the Pope, accepting her account of the situation, had written to implore the King to abstain, so long as the cause remained undetermined, from creating so great a scandal in Christendom, and to restore his late queen to her place at his side. This letter, as it was originally written, was one of Clement's happiest compositions.' He abstaiaed in it from using any expression which could be construed into a threat : he appealed to Henry's honourable character, which no blot had hitherto stained ; and dwelling upon the general confusion of the Christian world, he urged with temperate earnestness the ill effects which would be produced by so open a defiance of the injunctions of the Holy See in a person of so high a po- sition. So far all was well. Henry had deserved that such a letter should be written to him ; and the Pope was more than justified in writing it. The letter, how- ever, if it was sent, produced no effect, and on the 15th of Kovember, three days before Clement's departure to Bologna, where he pretended (we must not forget) that he considered Henry substantially right; he added a postscript, in a tone not contrasting only with his words to the ambassadors, but with the language of the brief itseE It is printed by Lohd Hekbeht, and in Legband, vol. iii. 4i6 REIGN OF HENRY THE •EIGHTH. [ch. 5. Again urging Henry's delinquencies, iis separation from his 'wife, and the scandal of his connection with another person, he commanded him, imder penalty of excommunication, within one month of the receipt of those injunctions, to restore the Queen to her place, and to abstain thenceforward from all intercourse with Anne Boleyn pending the issue of the trial. ' Otherwise,' the Pope continued, ' when the said term shall have elapsed, we pronounce thee, Henry King of England, and the said Anne, to be ipso facto excommunicate, and com- mand all men to shun and avoid your presence ; and al- though our mind shrinks from allowing such a thought of your Serenity, although by ourselves and by our au- ditory of the Rota an inhibition has been already issued against you ; although the act of which you are suspected be in itself forbidden by all laws human and divine, yet the reports which are brought to us do so move us, that once more we do inhibit you from dissolving your mar- riage with the aforesaid -Catherine, or from continuing process, in your own courts, of divorce from her. And we do also hereby warn you, that you presume not to contract any new marriage with the said or with any other woman ; we declare such marriage, if you still at- tempt it, to be vain and of none effect, and so to be re- garded by all persons in obedience to the Apostolic See.' ' An inhibitory mandate was a natural consequence of the conference of Calais, provided that the Pope intended to proceed openly and uprightly; and if it had been 1 Leskand, vol. iii. p. 558, &c. 1532-3-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 417 sent upon tlie spot, Henry could liave complained of nothing worse than of an honourable opposition to his wishes. But the mystery was not yet exhausted. The postscript was not issued, it was not spoken of; it was carried secretly to Bologna, and it bears at its foot a further date of the a3rd of Decfember, the very time, that is to say, at which the Pope was representing him- self to Bennet as occupied only in devising the best means of satisfying Henry, and to Sir Gregory Cassalis, as so convinced of the justice of the English demands, that he had ventured in defence of them to the edge of rupture with the Emperor. It might be urged that he was sincere both in his brief and in his conversation ; that he believed that a verdict ought to be given, and woidd at last be given, against the original marriage, and that therefore he was the more anxious to prevent unnecessary scandal. Yet a menace of excommunication, couched in so haughty a tone, could have been honestly reconciled with his other ■conduct, only by his following a course with respect to it which he did not follow — by informing the ambassadors openly of what he had done, and transmitting his letter through their hands to Henry himself. This he might have done ; and though the issue of such a document at such a time woidd have been open to question, it might nevertheless have been defended. His Holiness, however, did nothing of the kind. No hint was let fall of the ex- istence of any minatory brief; he sustained his pretence of good win, tUl there was no longer any occa- sion for him to counterfeit; and two months VOL. I. 27 4i8 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. later it suddenly appeared on the doors of tie churclies in Flanders. Henry at first believed it to be a forgery. One forged brief bad already been produced by tbe Imperialists in tbe course of tbeir transactions, and be imagined that this was anotber ; even bis past experience of Clement bad not prepared bim for tbis last venture of efirontery ; be wrote to Bennet, enclosing a copy, and requiring bim to ascertain if it were really genuine.* Tbe Pope could not deny bis band, tbougb tbe ex- posure, and tbe strange irregular character of tbe brief itself, troubled bim, and Bonner, wbo was again at tbe Papal Court, said tbat ' be was in manner asbamed, and in great perplexity wbat be migbt do therein.' His conduct wUl be variously interpreted, and to at- tempt to analyze tbe motives of a double-minded man is always a hazardous experiment ; but a comparison of date, tbe character of Clement himself, tbe circumstances in which be was placed, and the retrospective evidence from after events, points almost necessarily to but one ' Ye may show unto his Holi- ness that ye have heard from a Mend of yours in Flanders lately, that there hath been set up certain writ- ings from the See Apostolic, in de- rogation both of justice and of the affection lately showed by his Holi- ness unto us ; which thing ye may say ye can hardly believe to be true, hut that ye reckon them rather to be counterfeited. For if it should be tru^, it is a thing too far out of the wa;y, specially considering that yo\i and other our ambassadors be there, and have heard nothing of the matter. We send a copy of these writings unto you, which copy we wiU in no wise that ye shall show to any person which might think that ye had any knowledge from us nor any of our council, marrelling greatly if the same hath proceeded indeed from the Pope ; [and] will- ing you expressly not to show that ye had it of us. — State Papers, vol. vii. p. 421. ' State Papers, vol. vii. p. 454, I532-3-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 419 interpretation. It is scarcely disputable ttat, frightened at the reception of Anne Boleyn in France, the Pope found it necessary to pretend for a time an altered dis- position towards Henry ; and that the Emperor, unable to feel wholly confident that a person who was false to others was true to himself, had exacted the brief from him as a guarantee for his good faith ; Charles, on his side, reserving the publication until Francis had been gained over, and until Clement was screened against the danger which he so justly feared, from the consequences of the interview at Calais. That then there was duplicity of some kind cannot be denied; and if not designed to effect this object, this object in fact it answered. While Clement was talking smoothly to Benuet and Cassalis, secret overtures were advanced at Paris for a meeting at Nice between the Pope, the Emperor, and the King of France, from which Henxy was to be excluded.* The Emperor made haste with concessions to Francis, which but a few months before would have seemed impossible. He withdrew his army out of Lombardy, and left Italy free ; he consented to the marriage which he had so earnestly opposed be- tween Catherine de Medici and the Duke of Orleans, agreeing also, it is probable, to the contingency of the Duchy of Milan becoming ultimately her dowry. And Francis having coquetted with the proposal for the Nice meeting,* not indeed accepting, but not absolutely re- February. ' Sir John Wallop to Henry : State Fapera, vol. vii. p. 422. '^ Francis represented himself to Henry as having refused with a species of bravado. ' He told me,' says Sir John Wallop, ' that he had 420 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. jecting it, Charles consented also to waiTe Ms objections to the interview between Francis and the Pope, on which he had looked hitherto with so much suspicion ; provided that the Pope would hear in mind some mysterious and unknown communication which had passed at Bologna.'^ Thus was Francis won. He cared only, as the Pope had seen, for his own interests ; and from this time he drew away, hy imperceptible degrees, from his engage- ments to England. He did not stoop to dishonour or treacherous betrayal of confidence, for with all his faults he was, in the technical acceptation of that misused announced previously that lie would consent to no such interview, unless your Highness were also comprised in the same ; and if it were so con- descended that your Highness and he should he then together, yet you two should go after such a sort and with such power that you would not care whether the Pope and Emperor would have peace or else coups de baston.' — Wallop to Henry, from Paris, Feb. 22. But this was scarcely a complete account of the transaction ; it was an account only of so much of it as the French King was pleased to communicate. The Emperor was urgent for a council. The Pope, feeling the difficulty either of excluding or admitting the Protestant representatives, was afraid of consenting to it, and equally afraid of refusing. The meeting proposed to Francis was for the discussion of this difficulty; and Francis, in re- turn, proposed that the great Powers, Henry included, should hold an in- terview, and arrange beforehand the conclusions at which the council should arrive. This, naive sugges- tion was waived hy Charles, appar- ently on grounds of religion. — Lokd Herbert, Kennet's Edit. p. 167. 1 The Emperor's answer touch- ing this interview is come, and is, in effect, that if the Pope shall judge the said interview to be for the wealth and quietness of Christendom, he will not be seen to dissuade his Holiness from the same ; but he desired him to remember what he showed to his Holiness when he was with the same, at what time his Holiness offered himself for the commonwealth to go to any place to speak with the French King. — Bennet to Henry VIII. ; State Fapers, vol. vii. p. 464. IS32-3-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 421 term, a gentleman. He declined only to maintain tlie attitude which, if lie had persisted ia it, would have compelled the Pope to yield ; and although he con- tinued honestly to urge him to make concessions, he no longer affected to make them the price of preserving France in allegiance to the Holy See. Nor need we re- gret that Francis shrank from a resolution which Henry had no right to require of him. To have united with France in a common schism at the crisis of the Reform- ation would have only embarrassed the free motions of England ; and two nations whose interests and whose tendencies were essentially opposite, might not submit to be linked together by the artificial interests of their princes. The populace of England were unconsciously on the rapid road to Protestantism. The populace of France were fanatically Catholic. England was- to go her way through a golden era of EKzabeth to CromweU, the Puritans, and a Protestant republic ; a republic to be perpetuated, if not in England herself, yet among her great children beyond the sea. France was to go her way through Bartholomew massacres and wars of the League to a polished Louis the Magnificent, and thence to the bloody Medea's cauldron of Revolution, out of which she was to rise as now we know her. No common road could have been foimd for such destinies as these ; and the French prince followed the direction of his wiser instincts when he preferred a quiet arrangement with the Pope, in virtue of which his Church should be se- cured by treaty the liberties which she desired, to a doubtfiil struggle for a freedom which his people neither 422 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. s. wislied nor approved. The interests of the nation were in fact his own. He could ill afford to forsake a religion which allowed Tiim so pleasantly to compound for his amatory indulgences by the estrapade ^ and a zeal for orthodoxy. It became e-vident to Henry early in the spriag that he was left substantially alone. His marriage had been kept secret with the iatention that it should be diYulged by the King of France to the Pope when he met him at Marseilles ; and as the Pope had pretended an anxietj' that either the King of England should be present ia person at that interview, or should be represented by an ambassador of adequate rank, a train had been equipped for the occasion, the most magnificent which England could furnish. Time, meanwhile, passed on ; the meet- ing, which was to have taken place first ia January, and then ia April, was delayed tOl October, and in the interval the Papal brief had appeared in Flanders ; the Queen's pregnancy could not admit of concealment ; and the evident proof which appeared that France was no longer to be depended upon, convinced the English Government that they had nothing to hope for from abroad, and that Henry's best resources were to be foimd, where in fact they had always been, in the strength and affection of his own people. ' The estrapade was an infemal machine introduced by Francis into Paris for the better correction of ■heresy. The offender was slung by a chain oyer a fire, and by means of a crane was dipped up and down into the flame, the torture being thus prolonged for an indefinite time. Francis was occasionally pre- sent in person at these exhibitions, the executioner waiting his arrival before commencing the spectacle. I532-3-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 423 From this choking atmosphere, therefore, we now turn back to England and the English Parliament ; and the change is from darkness to light, from death to life. Here was no wavering, no uncertaiaty, no smiling faces with false hearts behind them ; but the steady purpose of resolute men, who slowly, and with ever opening vision, bore the nation forward to the fair future which was already dawning. Parliament met at the beginning of Febru- ary, a few days after the King's marriage, which, however, still remained a secret. It is, I thiak, no slight evidence of the calmness with which the statesmen of the day proceeded with their work, that in a session so momentous, in. a session in which the decisive blow was to be struck of the most serious revolution through which the country as yet had pass- ed, they should have first settled themselves calmly down to transact what was then the ordinary busi- ness of legislation, the struggle with the vital evils of society. The first nine statutes which were passed in this session were economic acts to protect the public against the frauds of money-making tradesmen ; to pro- vide that shoes and boots should be made of honest leather ; that food should be sold at fair prices, that mer- chants should part with their goods at fair profits ; to compel, or as far as the legislature was able to do it, to endeavour to compel all classes of persons to be true men; to deal honestly with each other, ia that high Quixotic sense of honesty which requires good subjects at aU times and under all circumstances to consider the iaterests of the 424 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. coTnmonvealtli as more important than their own. I have already spoken of this economic legislation, and I need not dwell now upon details of it : March. although Tinder some aspects it may be thought that more which is truly valuable in English history lies in these unobtrusive statutes than in all our noisy wars, reformations, and revolutions. The history of this as of all other nations (or so much of it as there is occasion for any of us to know), is the history of the battles which it has fought and won with evil; not with political evil merely, or spiritual evil, but with all m.anifestations whatsoever of the devil's power. And to have beaten back, or even to have struggled against and stemmed in ever so small a degree, those be- settiug basenesses of human nature, now held so invinci- ble that the influences of them are assumed as the fun- damental axioms of economic science; this appears to me a greater victory than Agincourt, a grander triumph of wisdom and faith and courage than even the English constitution or the English liturgy. Such a history, however, lies beside the purpose which I may here per- mit myself ; and the two Acts with which the session closed, alone in this place require our attention. The first of these is one of the many ' Acts of Apparel,' which are to be found in the early volumes of the statute book. The meaniag of these laws becomes intelligible when we reflect upon the condition of the people. The English were an organized nation of soldiers ; they form- ed an army perpetually ready for the field, where the degrees were determiaed by social position; and the 1532-3] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 42$ dresses prescribed to the various orders of society were the gjraduated imiforms which indicated the rank of the ■wearers. When every man was a soldier, and every gen- tleman was an officer, the same causes existed for mark- ing, by costume, the distinctions of authority, which lead to the answering differences in the modem regiments. The changing condition of the country at the time of the Reformation, the growth of a middle class, with no landed possessions, yet made wealthy by trade or other industry, had tended necessarily to introduce con- fusion ; and the policy of this reign, which was never more markedly operative than during the most critical periods of it, was to reinvigorate the discipline of the feudal system ; and pending the growth of what might better suit the ag^, pending the great struggle in which the nation was engaged, to hold every man at his post. The statute specifies its object, and the motives with which it was passed. 'Whereas,' says the preamble, 'divers laws, ordi- nances, and statutes have been with great deliberation and advice provided and estabKshed for the necessary repressing and avoiding the inordinate excess daily more and more used in the sumptuous and costly array and apparel accustomably worn in this realm, whereof hath ensued, and daily do chance, such sundry high and notable inconveniences as be to the great and notorious detriment of the commonweal, the subversion of politic order in knowledge and distinction of people according to their pre-eminence and degrees, to the utter impoverishment and undoing of many light and inexpert persons inclined ij26 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. to pride, the mother of all vices : Be it enacted,' ' — ^but I need not enter into the particxilars of the uniforms worn by the nobles and gentlemen of the Court of Henry VIII. ; the temper, not the detail, is of import- ance ; and of the wisdom or unwisdom of such enact- ments, we who Kve in a changed age shoxdd be cautious of formiag a hasty opinion. The ends which the old legis- lation proposed to itself, have ia latter ages been resigned as impracticable. "We are therefore no longer adequate judges how far those ends may in other times have been attaiaable, and we can still less judge of the means through which the attainment of them was sought. The second Act of which I have to speak is open to no such ambiguity ; it remains among the i.&''^ which are and will be of perpetual moment in our national history. The conduct of the Pope had forced upon the Parliament the reconsideration of the character of his supremacy ; and when the question had once been asked, in the existing state of feeling but one answer to it was possible. The authority of the Church over the State, the supreme kingship of Christ, and cojisequently of him who was held to be Christ's vicar, above all worldly sovereignties, was an established reality of medifeval Europe. The princes had with difficulty preserved their jurisdiction in matters purely secular ; while in matters spiritual, and in that vast section of hum.an affairs in which the spiritual and the secular glide one into the ' 24 Hen. VIII. cap, 13. IS32-3-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 427 other, they had been compelled — all such of them as lay within the pale of the Latia commuiuon — to acknow- ledge a power superior to their own. To the popes was the ultimate appeal in all causes of which the spiritual courts had cognizance. Their jurisdiction had been extended by an unwaveriag pursuit of a single policy, and their constancy in the twelfth century was rewarded by absolute victory. In England, however, the field was no sooner won than it was again disputed, and the civil government gave way at last only when the danger seemed to have ceased. So long as the Papacy was feared, so long as the successors of St Peter held a sword which could inflict ssnsible wounds, and enforce obedience by penalties, the English kings had resisted both the theory and the application. While the Pope was dangerous he was dreaded and opposed. When age had withered his arm, and the feeble lightniags flickered in harmless ia- significance, they consented to withdraw their watchful- ness, and his supremacy was silentlyallowed as an inno- cent superstition. It existed as some other iastitutions exist at the present day, with a merely nominal authority ; with a tacit understanding, that the power which it was permitted to retain should be exerted only in con- formity with the national will. Under these conditions the Tudor princes became loyal subjects to the Holy See, and so they would have willingly remained, had not Clement, in an evil hour for himself, forgotten the terms of the compact. He laid upon a legal fiction a strain which his predecessors, in their palmiest days, would have feared to attempt ; and ' 428 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. the nation, after grave remonstrance, wMcli was only received with insults, exorcised the chimera with a few resolute words for ever. The Parliament, in asserting the freedom of England, carefully chose their language. They did not pass a new law, but they passed an Act declaratory merely of the law which already existed, and which they were vindicating against illegal en- croachment. 'Whereas,' says the Statute of Appeals, ' hy divers sundry old authentic histories and chronicles, it is manifestly declared and expressed that this realm of England is an empire, and so hath heen accepted ia the world ; governed by one supreme head and kiag, having the dignity and royal estate of the imperial crown of the same ; unto whom a body politic compact of all sorts and degrees of people, divided in terms by names of spiritualty and temporalty, be bound and ought to bear, next to God, a natural and hiunble obedience : he beiag also institute and furnished by the goodness and suffer- ance of Almighty God with plenary, whole, and entire power, pre-eminence and authority, prerogative and jurisdiction, to render and yield justice and final deter- mination to all manner of folk resident or subject withia this his reahn, without restraint or provocation to any foreign prince or potentate of the world : th-e body spiritual whereof haviag power when any cause of the law divine happened to come in question, or of spiritual learning, [such cause beiag] declared, interpret, and shewed by that part of the body politic called the spiritualty, now usually called the English Church j 1533-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLRYN. 429 (wliich. also hatli been reported and also found of tHat sort, ttat both for knowledge, integrity, and sufficiency of numbers, it bath been always thought to be, and is also at this hour, sufficient and meet of itself, without the interfering of any exterior person or per- sons, to declare and determine all such doubts, and to administer all such offices and duties, as to the ad- ministration of their rooms spiritual doth appertain) : and the laws temporal, for trial of property of lands and goods, and for the conservation of the people of this realm ia unity and peace, haviag been and yet be- ing administered, adjudged, and executed by sundry judges and admiaisters of the said body politic called the temporalty : and seeing that both these authorities and jurisdictions do conjoin together for the due ad- ministration of justice, the one to help the other : and whereas the King's m.ost noble progenitors, and the nobility and commons of this said realm at divers and sundry Parliaments, as well in the time of King Edward I., Edward III., Eichard II., Henry IV., and other noble kings of this realm, made sundry ordinances, laws, and provisions for the conservation of the prerogatives, liberties, and pre-eminences of the imperial crown of this realm, and of the jurisdiction spiritual and temporal of the same, to keep it from the annoyance as well of the See of Rome as from the authority of other foreign potentates attempting the diminution or violation there- of, as often as from time to time any such annoyance or attempt might be known or espied : and notwithstand- 430 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. ing tlie said good statutes and ordinances, and since the making thereof, divers inconveniences and dangers not provided for plainly by the said statutes, have risen and sprung by reason of appeals sued out of this realm to the See of Rome, in causes testamentary, causes of ma- trimony and divorce, right of tithes, oblations, and ob- ventions, not only to the great inquietation, vexation, trouble, costs, and charges of the King's Highness, and many of his subjects and residents in this his realm ; but also to the delay and let of the speedy determination of the said causes, for so much as parties appealing to the said court of Rome most commonly do the same for the delay of justice ; and forasmuch as the great dis- tance of way is so far out of this realm, so that the ne- cessary proofs, nor the true knowledge of the causes, can neither there be so well known, nor the witnesses so well examiaed there as w;ithia this realm, so that the parties grieved by means of the said appeals be most times without remedy ; in consideration hereof, aU tes- tamentary and matrimonial causes, and all suits for tithes, oblations, and obventions, shall henceforth be ad- judged in the spiritual and temporal courts within the realm, without regard to any process of foreign jurisdic- tion, or any inhibition, excommunication, or interdict. Persons procuring processes, inhibitions, appeals, or citations from the court of Rome, as well as their fautors, comforters, counsellors, aiders, and abettors, all and every of them shall incur the penalties of premunire ; and in all such cases as have hitherto admitted of ap- peal to Rome, the appeals shall be from the Archdeacon's IS33-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 431 court to the Bisliop's court, from the Bishop's court to that of the Archbishop, and no further.'^ The Act was carried through Parliament in Fehruary, but again, as with the Annates BOl, the King delayed his sanction till the post could reach and return from the Vatican. The Bishop of Bayonne wrote that there was hope that Clement might yet give way, and en- treated that the King would send an ' excusator,' a per- son formally empowered to protest for biTn that he could not by the laws of England plead at a foreign tribunal ; and that with this imperfect recognition of his authority the Pope would be satisfied. ChastiHon, the French ambassador, had an interview with the King, to communicate the Bishop's message. 'The morning after,' Chastillon wrote, 'his Majesty sent for me and desired me to repeat my words before the council. I obeyed ; but the majority declared that there was nothing in them to act upon, and that the King must not put himself in subjection. His Majesty himself, too, I found less warm than in his preceding conversation. I begged the coimcil to be patient. I said everything that I could think of Kkely to weigh with the King. I promised biTn a sentence from our Holy Father declaring his first marriage null, his present marriage good. I urged him on all grounds, public and private, to avoid a rupture with the Holy See. Such a sentence, I said, would be the best security for the Queen, and the safest guarantee for the unopposed suc- 1 24 Hen. VIII. cap. 12. 432 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. j. cession of her offspring. If tlie marriage was confirmed by the Holy Father's authority, the Queen's enemies would lose the only ground where they could make a stand. The peace of the realm was now menaced. The Emperor talked loudly and made large preparations. Let the King be allied with France, and through France with the Holy See, and the Emperor coidd do him no harm. Thus I said my proposals were for the benefit of the reahn of his Majesty, and of the children who might be born to him. The King woiild act more pru- dently both for his own iuterest, and for the interest of his children, in securing himself, than in running a risk of creating universal confusion ; and, besides, he owed something to the King his brother, who had worked so long and so hard for him. ' After some further conversation, his Majesty took me aside into a garden, where he told me that for him- self he agreed in what I had said ; but he begged me to keep his confidence secret. He fears, I think, to appear to condescend too easily. 'He will not, however, publish the Acts of Parliament tiU he sees what is done at Rome. The vast sums of money which used to be sent out of the country will go no longer ; but in other respects he will be glad to return to good terms. He will send the excusator when he hears again from M. de Paris ; and for myself, I think, that although the whole country is in a blaze against the Pope, yet with the good will and assistance of the King, the Holy Father will be reinstated in the greater part of his prerogatives.' IS33-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYiT. 433 But tlieliope that the Pope would yield proved again delusive. Henry wrote to hiTn Imnself in the spirit of his conversation with ChastiUon. His letter was presented by Cardinal Toumon, and Clement said all that could be said in acknowledgment without making the one vital concession. But whenever it was put before biTn that the cause must be heard and decided in Eng- land and in no other place, he talked in the old language, of imcertainty and impossibilities ; ' and Henry learning at the same time that a correspondence was going for- ward between Clement and Francis, with the secrets of which he was not made acquainted, went forward upon his own way. April brought with it the certainty that the expected concessions were delusive. Anne Boleyn's pregnancy made further delay impossible. M. d'Inteville, who had succeeded ChastiUon as French ambassador, once more attempted to interfere, but in vain. Henry told him he. could not help himself, the Pope forced binn to the course which he was pursuing, by the answer which he had been pleased to issue ; and he could only encounter enmity with its own weapons. ' The Arch- bishop,' d'Inteville wrote to Francis, ' will try the ques- tion, and will give judgment. I entreated the King to wait till the conference at Mce, but he would not con- sent. I prayed biTn to keep the sentence secret tiU. the Pope had seen your Majesty ; he replied it was impos- sible.' ■" ' State Fapert, vol. Tii. p. 441. ' D'Inteville to Francis the First: MS. Bibliotheque Imperiale, Paris. — Pilgrim, p. 92. VOL. I. 28 434 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH [CH. j. Thus the statute became law wliich transferred to the English courts of law the power so long claimed and exercised by the Roman See. There are two aspects under which it may be regarded, as there were two objects for which it was passed. Considered as a national Act, few persons will now deny that it was as just in itself as it was politically desirable. If the Pope had no jurisdiction over English subjects, it was well that he should be known to have none ; if he had, it was equally well that such jurisdiction should cease. The question was not of communion between the English and Roman Churches, which might or might not continue, but which this Act would not affect. The Pope might still retain his rights of episcopal precedency, whatever those might be, with all the privileges attached to it. The Parha- ment merely declared that he possessed no right of in- terference in domestic disputes affecting persons and property. But the Act had a special as well as a national bear- ing, and here it is less easy to arrive at a just conclusion. It destroyed the validity of Queen Catherine's appeal ; it placed a legal power in the hands of the English judges to proceed to pass sentence upon the divorce; and it is open to the censure which we ever feel entitled to pass upon a measure enacted to meet the particidar position of a particular person. Wlien embarrassments have arisen from unforeseen causes, we have a right to legislate to prevent a repetition of those embarrassments. Our instincts tell us that no legislation should be re- trospective, and should affect only positions which have 1533] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 435 been entered into witli a full knowledge at the time of the condition of the laws. The statute endeavours to avoid the difficulty by its declaratory form ; but again this is imsatisfactory ; for that the Pope possessed some authority was substan- tially acknowledged in every application which was made to him. ; and when Catherine had married under a Papal dispensation, it was a strange thing to turn upon her, and to say, not only that the dispensation in the particidar instance had been imlawfully granted, but that the Pope had no jurisdiction in the matter by the laws of the land which she had entered. On the other hand, throughout the entire negotia- tions King Henry and his ministers had insisted jea- lously on the English privileges. They had declared from the first that they might, if they so pleased, fall back upon their own laws. In desiring that the cause might be heard by a Papal legate in England, they had represented themselves rather as condescending to a form than acknowledging a right; and they had, in fact, in allowing the opening of Campeggio's court, fallen, all of them, even Henry himself, under the penalties of the statutes of provisors. The validity of Catherine's appeal they had always consistently denied. If the Papal jurisdiction was to be admitted at all, it could only be through a minister sitting as judge within the realm of England ; and the maxim, ' Ne AngH extra AngKam litigare cogantur,' was insisted upon as the absolute privilege of every English subject. Yet, jf we allow full weight to these considerations, 436 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [ch. 5. a feeling of painful uncertainty continues to cling to us ; and in ordinary cases to be uncertain on such a point is to Le in reality certain. The state of the law could not have been clear, or the Statute of Appeals would not have been required ; and explain it as we may, it was in fact passed for a special cause against a special person ; and that person a woman. How far the Parliament was justified by the ex- tremity of the case is a further question, which it is equally difficidt to answer. The alternative, as I have repeatedly said, was an all but inevitable civil war, on the death of the King ; and practically, when statesmen are entrusted with the fortunes of an empire, the respon- sibility is too heavy to allow them to consider other interests. Salus populi suprema lex, ever has been and ever will be the substantial canon of policy with public men, and morality is bound to hesitate before it censures them. There are some acts of injustice which no national interest can excuse, however great in itself that interest may be, or however certain to be attained by the means proposed. Yet Government, in its easiest tax, trenches to a certain extent on natural right and natural freedom; and trenches farther and further iii proportion to the emergency with which it has to deal. How far it may go in this direction, or whether Henry VIII. and his Parliament went too far, is an intricate problem ;. their best justification is an exceptive clause introduced into the Act, which was intended obviously ' to give Queen Catherine the utmost advantage which =^vias consistent with the liberties of the reakn. 'In I533-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 437 case/ says the concluding paragraph, ' of any cause, or matter, or contention now depending for the causes be- fore rehearsed, or that hereafter shall come into conten- tion for any of the same causes in any of the foresaid courts, which hath, doth, shall, or may touch the King, his heirs or successors, kings of this realm; in all or every such case or cases the party grieved as aforesaid shall or may appeal from any of the said courts of this realm, to the spiritual prelates and other ahbots and priors of the Upper House, assembled and convocate by the King's writ in Convocation ' ^ If Catherine's cause was as just as Catholics and English high churchmen are agreed to consider it, the English Church might have saved her. If Catherine herself had thought first or chiefly of justice, she would not perhaps have accepted the arbitration of the English Convocation; but long years before she would have been in a cloister. Thus it is that while we regret, we are unable to blame; and we cannot wish undone an act, to have shrunk from which might have spared a single heart, but might have wrecked the English nation. "We in- crease our pity for Catherine because she was a princess. "We measure the mag^tude of the evils which human beings endure by their position in the scale of society ; and misfortunes which private persons would be ex- pected to bear without excessive complaining, furnish matter for the lamentation of ages when they touch the sacred head which has been circled with a diadem. Let ' 24 Hen. VIII. cap. I2. 438 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. it be so. Let us compensate tte Queen's sorrows with unstinted sympathy ; but let us not trifle with history, by confusing a political necessity with a moral crime. The English Parliament, then, had taken up the gauntlet which the Pope had flung to it with trembling fingers : and there remained nothing but for the Arch- bishop of Canterbury to make use of the power of which by law he was now possessed. And the time was press- ing, for the new Queen was enceinte, and further con- cealment was not to be thought of. The delay of the interview between the Pope and Francis, and the change in the demeanour of the latter, which had become pal- pably evident, discharged Henry of all promises by which he might have bound himself; and to hesitate before the menaces of the Pope's brief would have been fatal. The Act of Appeals being passed, Convocation was the authority to which the power of determining un- settled points of spiritual law seemed to have lapsed. In the month of April, therefore, Cranmer, now Archbishop of Canterbury,^ submitted to it the April. ' He had been selected as 'War- ham's successor, and had been conse- crated on the 30th of March, 1533. On the occasion of the ceremony when the usual oath to the Pope was presented to him, he took it with a declaration that his first duty and first obedience was to the Crown and laws of his own country. It is idle trifling to build up, as too many writers have attempted to do, a charge of insincerity upon an action which was forced upon him by the existing relation between England and Rome. The Act of Appeals was the law of the land. The separation from communion with the Papacy was it contingency which there was still a hope might be avoided. Such a protest as Cranmer made was therefore the easiest solution of the difficulty. See it in Stbype'b Cran- mer, Appendix, p. 683. IS330 MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOI.EYN. 439- two questions, on tlie resolution of wMch the sentence wMch. he was to pass was dependent. The first had been already answered separately by the bench of bishops and by the universities, and had been agitated from end to end of Europe — was it law- ful to marry the widow of a brother dying without issue, but having consummated his marriage; and was the Levitical prohibition of such a marriage grounded on a divine law, with which the Pope could not dispense, or on a canon law of which a dispensation was permissible?' The Pope had declared himself unable to answer ; but he had allowed that the general opinion was against the power of dispensing,^ and there could be Kttle doubt, therefore, of the reply of the English Convocation, or at least of the Upper House. Fisher attempted an op- position ; but wholly without effect. The question was one in which the interests of the higher clergy were not concerned, and they were therefore left to the dominion of their ordinary understandings. Out of two hundred and sixty-three votes, nineteen only were in the Pope's favour.' The Lower House was less unanimous, as might have been expected, and as had been experienced before ; the opposition spirit of the English clergy being usually then, as much as now, in the ratio of their poverty. But there too the nature of the case compelled an over- '■ BoENET, vol. iii. pp. 122-3. I Cassalis to the same: Rolls House. ' Bennet to Henry Till. State MS. Papers, vol. vii.p. 402. Sir Gregory | ' Buknet, vol. iii. p. 123. 440 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. whelming majority.* It was decided by botli Houses that Pope Julius, ia granting a license for the marriage of Henry and Catherine, had exceeded his authority, and that this marriage was therefore, ah initio, void. The other question to he decided was one of fact; whether the marriage of Catherine with Prince Arthur had or had not been consummated, a matter which the Catholic divines conceived to be of paramount import- ance, but which to few persons at the present day will seem of any importance whatsoever. We cannot even read the evidence which was produced without a sens- ation of disgust, although in those broader and less con- scious ages the indelicacy was less obviously perceptible. And we may console ourselves with the hope that the discussion was not so wounding as might have been ex- pected to the feelings of Queen Catherine, since at all official interviews, with aU classes of persons, at aU times and in all places, she appeared herself to court the subject.^ There is no occasion in this place to foUow her example. It is enough that Ferdinand, at the time of her first marriage, satisfied himself, after curious in- quiry, that he might hope for a grandchild ; and that the fact of the consummation was asserted in the treaty between England and Spain, which preceded the mar- riage with Henry, and in the supposed brief of Pope Julius which permitted it.^ "We cannot in consequence ' Bdrnet, Tol. i. p. 2 to. '^ See State Papers, vol. i. pp. 415. 420, &c. ' BuEXET's Colleotanm, p. 22. It is very singular that in the original Bull of Julius, the expression is ' forsan oonsummavissetis ; ' while in the hrief, which, if it was genuine, 1533-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 441 be surprised that the Convocation accepted the conclu- sion -which was sanctioned by so high authority, and we rather wonder at the persistency of Catherine's denials. With respect to this vote, therefore, we need notice no- thing except that Dr Clerk, Bishop of Bath and WeUs,^ was one of an exceedingly small minority, who were inclined to believe that the denial might be true, and this Bishop was one of the four who were associated with Cranmer when he sat at Dunstable for the trial of the cause. The ground being thus opened, and all preparations being completed, the Archbishop composed a formal let- ter to the King, in which he dwelt upon the uncertain prospects of the succession, and the danger of leaving a question which closely affected it so long xmsettled. He expatiated at length on the general anxiety which was felt throughout the realm, and requested permission to employ the powers attached to his office to bring it to some conclusion. The recent alterations had rendered the Archbishop something doubtful of the nature of his position ; he was diffident and unwilling to offend ; and not clearly knowing in the exercise of the new authority which had been granted to him, whether the extension of his power was accompanied with a parallel extension of liberty in making use of it, he wrote two copies of this letter, with slight variations of language, that the King miight select between them the one which ho would offi- •vras written the same day, and which, if forged, was forged by Catherine's friends, there is no foisan. The fact is stated ahsolntely. ' LoBD Hebbebt, p. 163. Bub- set, vol. iii. p. 123. 442 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH fcH. J. cially recognize. Both these copies are extant; both were written the same day from the same place ; both were folded, sealed, and sent. It seems, therefore, that neither was Cranmer furnished beforehand with a draught of what he was to write ; nor was his first letter sent back to him corrected. He must have acted by his own judgment ; and a comparison of the two letters is singu- lar and iastructive. In the first he spoke of his office and duty in language, chastened indeed and modest, but stiU. language of independence; and while he declared his unwillingness to ' enterprise any part of that office ' with- out his Grace's favour obtained, and pleasure therein first known, he implied nevertheless that his request was rather of courtesy than of obligation, and had arisen rather from a sense of moral propriety than because he might not legally enter on the exercise of his duty without the permission of the Crown.^ The moderate gleam of freedom vanishes in the other copy imder a few pithy changes, as if Cranmer instinctively felt the revolution which had taken place in the relations of Church and State. "Where in the first letter he asked for his Grace's favour, in the second he asked for his Grace's favour and license — where in the first he requested to know his Grace's pleasure as to his proceeding, in the second he desired his Most Excellent Majesty to license him to proceed. The burden of both tetters was the same, but the introduction of the little word license changed all. It implied a hesitating belief Stale rapers, vol. i. pp. 390, 391. IS33-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 443 that tlie spiritual judges miglit perhaps thenceforward be on a footing with the temporal judges and the magis- trates; that under the new constitution they were to understand that they held their offices not directly under God as they had hitherto pretended, hut under God through the Crown. The answer of Henry iadicated that he had perceived the Archbishop's uncertaiaty ; and that he was desirous by the emphatic distinctness of his own language to spare him a future recurrence of it. He accepted the deferential version of the petition ; but even Cranmer's anticipation of what might be required of him had not reached the reality. ' In running through the preamble, the Kiag flung iato the tone of it a character of stiU deeper humility ; ' and he conceded the desired license in the following imperial style. ' In consideration of these things,' — i.e. of the grounds urged by the Arch- bishop for the petition — ' albeit we beiug your King and Sovereign, do recognize no superior on earth but only God, and not being subject to the laws of any earthly creature ; yet because ye be under us, by God's calling and ours, the most principal minister of our spiritual jurisdiction within this our Realm, who we think as- suredly is so in the fear of God, and love towards the observance of his laws, to the which laws, we as a Chris- ' Ye therefore duly recognizing that it beoometh you not, being our subject, to enterprise any part of your said office in so weighty and great a cause pertaining to us being your prince and sovereign, without our license obtained so to do ; and therefore in your most humble wise ye supplicate us to grant unto you our license to proceed. — State Papera, toI. i. p. 392. 444 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5; tian King have always heretofore, and shall ever most obediently submit ourself, we will not therefore refuse (our pre-eminence, power, and authority to us and to our successors in this behalf nevertheless saved) your humble request, offer, and towardness — that is, to mean to make an end according to the will and pleasure of Almighty God in our said great cause of matrimony, which hath so long depended undetermined, to our great and grievous unquietness and burden of our conscience. Wherefore we, incliniag to your humble petition, by these our letters sealed with our seal, and signed with our sign manual, do license you to proceed in the said cause, and the examination and final determination of the same ; not doubting but that ye wiU have God and the justice of the said cause only before your eyes, and not to regard any earthly or worldly affection therein ; for assuredly the thing which we most covet in the world, is so to proceed in all our acts and doings as may be the most acceptable to the pleasure of Almighty God our Creator, to the wealth and honour of us, our suc- cessors and posterity, and the surety of our Beahn, and subjects within the same.' ^ The vision of ecclesiastical independence, if Cranmer had indulged in it, must have faded utterly before his eyes on receiving this letter. As clergy who committed felony were no longer exempted from the penalties of their crimes ; so henceforward the courts of the clei:gy were to fall into conformity with the secular tribunals. 1 SiaU Fapers, toI. i. p. 392. 1S33-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE SOLE YN. 445 The temporal prerogatives of ecclesiastics as a body wliose authority over the laity was countervailed with no reciprocal obligation, existed no longer. This is what the language of the King implied. The difficulty which the persons whom he was addressing experienced in realizing the change in their position, obliged him to be something emphatic ia his assertion of it; and it might be imagiaed at first sight, that in insisting on his superiority to the officers of the spiritual courts, he claimed a right to dictate their sentences. But to ven- ture such a supposition would be to mistake the nature of English sovereignty and the spirit of the change. The supreme authority in England was the law ; and the King no more possessed, or claimed, a power of control- ling the judgment of the bishops or their ministers, than he could interfere with the jurisdiction of the jiidges of the bench. All persons in. authority, whether in Church or State, held their offices thenceforth by similar teniire ; but the rule of the proceedings in each remained alike the law of the land, which Henry had no more thought of superseding by his own will than the most constitu- tional of modem princes. The closing sentences of his reply to Cranmer are striking, and it is difficult to believe that he did not mean what he was saying. From the first step ia the process to the last, he maintained consistently that his only object was to do what was right. He was tho- rouglily persuaded that the course which he was pursu- ing was sanctioned by justice — and persons who are satis- fied that he was entitled to feel such persuasion, need not 446 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. refuse Him the merit of sincerity, because (to use tiie language wMcli CromTrell used at the fatal crisis of his life ') ' It may be ■well that they who medelle in many matters are not able to answer for them all.' Cramner, then, being fortified with this May 10. . . T 1 • • 1 1 • 1 -r.- n permission, and takmg with him the -Bishops of London, "Winchester, Lincoln, and Bath and "Wells (the latter perhaps having been chosen in consequence of his late conduct in the Convocation, to give show of fairness to the proceeding), went down to Dunstable and opened his court there. The queen was at Ampthill, six miles distant, having entered on her sad tenancy, it would seem, as soon as the place had been evacuated by the gaudy hunting party of the preceding summer. The cause being undecided, and her title being therefore un- certain, she was called by the safe name of ' the Lady Catherine,' and under this designation she was served with a citation from the Archbishop to appear before him on Saturday, the loth of May. The bearers of the summons were Sir Francis Bryan (an unfortunate choice, for he was cousin of the new queen, and insolent in his manner and bearing). Sir Thomas Gage, and Lord Vaux. She received them like herself with imperial sorrow. They delivered their message ; she announced that she refused utterly to acknowledge the competency of the tribunal before which she was called ; the court was a mockery ; the Archbishop was a shadow.^ She would ' Cromwell to the King on his Committal to the Tower : Burnet, Collectanea, p. 500. ' So at least she called him a few days later. — State Papers, vol. i. p. 420. "We have no details of her 1 533-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEm. 447 neither appear before him ia person, nor commission any one to appear on her behalf. The court had but one course before it — she was pronounced contumacious, and the trial went forward. !tfone of her household were tempted even by curiosity to be present. ' There came not so much as a servant of hers to Dunstable, save such as were brought in as witnesses ; ' some of them having been required to give evidence in the re-examination which was thoiight neces- sary as to the nature of the relation of their mistress with her first boy husband. As soon as this disgustiag question had been sufficiently investigated, nothing re- mained but to pronounce judgment. The marriage with the King was declared to have been null and void from the beginning, and on the 23rd of May, the Archbishop sent to London the welcome news that the long matter was at an end.^ May 23. •words when she was summoned; tut only a general account of them. — State Tapers, vol. i. p. 394-5. ' The words of the sentence may he interesting: — 'In the name of God, Amen. We, Thomas, hy Divine permission Archhishop of Canter- bury, Primate of all England, and Legate of the Apostolic See, in a certain cause of inquiry of and con- cerning the validity of the marriage contractcdand consummated between the most potent and most illustrious Prince, our Sovereign Lord, Henry VIII., by the grace of God King of England and France, Defender of the Faith, and Lord of Ireland, and the most serene Princess, Catherine, daughter of his Jlost Catholic Majesty, Ferdinand, King of Spain, of glorious memory, we proceeding according to law and justice in the said cause which has been brought judicially before us in virtue of our office, and which for some time has lain under examination, as it still is, being not yet finally determined and decided; having first seen all the articles and pleas which have been exhibited and set forth of her part, together with the answers made thereto on the part of the most il- lustrious and powerful Prince, Henry VIII.; having likewise seen and 448 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. It was over — over at last; yet so over, that the conclusion could but appear to the losing party a fresh diligently inspected the informations and depositions of many noblemen and other witnesses of unsuspected veracity exhibited in the said cause ; having also seen and in like manner carefully considered not only the censures and decrees of the most famous universities of almost the ■whole Christian world, but likewise the opinions and determinations both of the most eminent divines and ci- vilians, as also the resolutions and conclusions of the clergy of both Provinces of England in Convoca- tion assembled, and many other wholesome instructions and doc- trines which have been given in and laid before us concerning the said marriage ; having further seen and in like manner inspected all the treaties and leagues of peace and amity on this account entered upon and concluded between Henry VII., of immortal fame, late King of Eng- land, aijd the said Ferdinand, of glorious memory, late King of Spain; having besides seen and most carefully weighed all and every of the acts, debates, letters, pro- cesses, instruments, writs, argu- ments, and all other things which have passed and been transacted in the said cause at any time ; in all which thus seen and inspected, our most exact care in examining, and our most mature deliberation in weighing them hath by us been used, and all other things have been observed by us, which of right in this matter were to be observed; furthermore, the said most illus- trious Prince, Henry VIII., in the forementioned cause, by his proper Proctor having appeared before us, but the said most serene Lady Cathe- rine in contempt absenting herself (whose absence we pray that the Divine presence may compensate) [cujus absentia Bivin^ repleatur prsesentij. Lord Herbert translates it, ' whose absence may the Divine presence attend,' missing, I think, the point of the Archbishop's paren- thesis], by and with the advice of the most learned in the law, and of per- sons of most eminent skill in divinity whom we have consulted in the premises, we have found it our duty to proceed to give bur final decree andsentence in the said cause, which, accordingly, we do in this manner. ' Because by acts, warrants, de- ductions, propositions, exhibitions, allegations, proofs and confessions, articles drawn up, answers of wit- nesses, depositions, informations, in- struments, arguments, letters, writs, censures, determinations of pro- fessors, opinions, councils, assertions, aiBrmations, treaties, and leagues of peace, processes, and other matters in the said cause, as is above men- tioned, before us laid, had, done, exhibited, and respectively produced, as also frpm the same and sundry other reasons, causes, and consider- JS33-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 449 injustice. To those wto were concerned in bringing it to pass, to the King himself, to the nation, to Europe, to every one who heard of it at the time, it must have appeared, as it appears now to us who read the story of it, if a necessity, yet a most unwelcome and unsatisfying one. That the King remained imeasy is evident from the efforts which he continued to make, or which he al- lowed to be made, notwithstanding the brief of the 23rd of December, to gain the sanction of the Pope. That the nation was uneasy, we should not require the evidence of history to tell us. 'There was much murmuring in England,' says HaU, ' and it was thought by the unwise ations, manifold arguments, and Tarious kinds of proof of the greatest evidence, strength, and validity, of which in the said cause we have fully and clearly informed ourselves, we find, and with undeniable evi- dence and plainness see, that the marriage contracted and consum- mated, as is aforesaid, between the said most illustrious Prince, Henry VIII., and the most serene Lady Catherine, was and is null and in- valid, and that'it was contracted and consummated contrary to the law of God : therefore, we, Thomas, Arch- bishop, Primate, and Legate afore- said, having first called upon the name of Christ for direction herein, and having God altogether before our eyes, do pronounce sentence, and declare for the invalidity of the said marriage, decreeing that the said pretended marriage always was and still is. null and invalid ; that it was. contracted and consummated con- VOL. I. trary to the will and law of God, that it is of no force or obligation, but that it always wanted, and stiU wants, the strength and sanction of law ; and therefore we sentence that it is not lawful for the said most illustrious Prince, Henry VII I. , and the said most serene Lady Catherine, to remain in the said pretended mar- riage ; and we do separate and divorce them one from the other, inasmuch as they contracted and consummated the said pretended marriage de facto, and not de jure ; and that they so separated and divorced are absolutely free from all marriage bond with regard to the foresaid pretended marriage, we pro- nounce, and declare by this our de- finitive sentence and final decree, which we now give, and by the tenour of these present writings do publish. May 23rd, 1533.'— Bns- ket's Colleetama, p. 68, and Loed Herbert. 29 430 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. that the Bishop of Rome woiild. curse all Englishmen ; that the Emperor and he would destroy all the people.' And those who had no such fears, and whose judgment in the main approved of what had been done, were scan- dalized at the presentation to them at the instant of the publication of the divorce, of a new queen, four m.onth3 advanced in pregnancy. This also was a misfortune which had arisen out of the chain of duplicities, a fresh accident swelling a complication which was already sufficiently entangled. It had been occasioned by steps, which, at the moment at which they were ventured, prudence seemed to justify ; but we the more regret it, because, in comparison with the interests which were at issue, the few months of additional delay were iniinitely unimportant. Kevertheless, we have reason to be thankful that the thing, weU or ill, was over ; seven years of endurance were enough for the English nation, and may be sup- posed to have gained even for Henry a character for patience. In some way, too, it is needless to say, the thing must have ended. The life of none of us is long enough to allow us to squander so large a section of it struggling in the meshes of a law-suit ; and although, there may be a difference of opinion on the wisdom of having first entered upon ground of such a kind, few thinldng persons can suggest any other method in which either the nation or the King could have extricated themselves. Meanwhile, it was resolved that such spots and blemishes as hung about the transaction should be forgotten in the splendour of the coronation. If there 1533-]' MARRIA GE WITH. ANNE BOLE YN. 45 1 was scandal in the condition of tlie Queen, yet under another aspect that condition was matter of congratula- tion to a people so eager for an heir ; and Henry may have thought that the sight for the first time in pubHc of so beautiful a creature, surrounded by the most mag- nificent pageant which London had witnessed since the unknown day on which the first stone of it was laid, and bearing in her bosom the long-hoped-for inheritor of the English Crown, might induce a chivalrous nation to for- get what it was the interest of no loyal subject to re- member longer, and to offer her an English welcome to the throne. In anticipation of the timely close of the May 19. proceedings at Dunstable, notice had been given in the city early in May, that preparations should be made for the coronation on the first of the following month. Queen Anne was at Greenwich, but, according to custom, the few preceding days were to be spent at the Tower ; and on the 19th of May, she was conducted thither in state by the lord maj'-or and the city com- panies, with one of those splendid exhibitions upon the water which in. the days when the silver Thames de- served its name, and the sun could shine down upon it out of the blue summer sky, were spectacles scarcely rivalled in gorgeousness by the world- famoua wedding, of the Adriatic. The river was crowded with boats, the banks and the ships in the pool swarmed with people ; and fifty great barges formed the procession, all blazing with gold and banners. The Queen herself was in her own barge, close to that of the lord mayor; and in 452' REIGN OF HE^mY THE EIGHTH. [CH.rS- keeping with the fantastic genius of the time, she was preceded up the water by ' a foyst or wafter full of ord- nance, in which was a great dragon continually moving and casting wildfire, and round about the foyst' stood,' terrible monsters and wild men, casting fire and making hideous noise.' ' So, with trumpets blowing, cannon, pealing, the Tower guns answering the guns of the ships, iu a blaze of fireworks and splendour, Anne Boleyn was borne along to the great archway of the Tower, where the King was waiting on the stairs to receive her. 1, ,., And now let us suppose eleven days to May 31. ^^ •' have elapsed, the welcome news to have ar-, rived at length from Dunstable, and the fair summer morning of life dawning in treacherous beauty after the long night of expectation. No bridal ceremonial had been possible ; the marriage had been huddled over like a stolen love-match, and the "marriage feast had been eaten in vexation and disappointment. . These past mor- tifications were to be atoned for by a coronation pageant which the art and the wealth of the richest city in Europe should be poxired out in the most lavish pro- fusion to adorn. On the morning of the 31 st of May, the families of the London citizens were stirring early in aU; houses. From Temple Bar to the Tower, the streets were fresh strewed with gravel, the footpaths were railed off along the whole distance, and occupied on one side by the guilds, their workmen, and apprentices, on the other by Hall. .tS33] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYif. 453 the city constables and officials in their gaudy uniforms, ' with their staves in hand for to cause the people to keep good room and order.' ' CornhiU and Gracechurch- street had dressed their fronts in scarlet and crimson, ia arras and tapestry, and the rich carpet- work from Persia and the East. Cheapside, to outshine her rivals, was draped even more splendidly in cloth of gold, and tissue, and velvet. The sheriffs were pacing up and down on their great Flemish horses, hung with liveries, and all the windows were thronged with ladies crowding to see the procession pass. At length the Tower guns opened, the grim gates rolled back, and under the archway in the bright May sunshine, the long column began slowly to defile. Two States only permitted their representatives to grace the scene with their presence — Venice and France. It was, perhaps, to make the most of this iso- lated countenance, that the French ambassador's train formed the van of the cavalcade. Tw«lve French knights came riding foremost in surcoats of blue velvet with sleeves of yellow sOk, their horses trapped in blue, with white crosses powdered on their hangiugs. After them followed a troop of EngKsh gentlemen, two and two, and then the Knights of the Bath, ' in gowns of violet, with hoods purfled with miniver Kke doctors.' Next, perhaps at a little interval, the abbots passed on, mitred, in their robes ; the barons followed in crimson velvet, the bishops then, and then the earls and marquises, the dresses of each order increasing in elaborate gorgeousness. All ' Hall. 454 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. these rode on in pairs. Then came alone Audeley, lord chancellor, and behind him. the Venetian ambassador and the Archbishop of York ; the Archbishop of Canter- bury, and Du Bellay, Bishop of Bayonne and of Paris, not now with bugle and hunting-frock, but solemn with stole and crozier. Next, the lord mayor, with the city mace in hand, and Garter ia his coat of arms ; and then Lord William Howard, the Duke of Norfolk's brother. Marshal of England. The, officers of the Queen's household succeeded the marshal ia scarlet and gold, and the yan of the procession was closed by ihe Duke of Suffolk, as high constable, with his silver wand. It is no easy matter to picture to ourselves the blazing trail of splendour which ia such a pageant must have drawn along the London streets, — those streets which now we knbw so black and smoke-grimed, them- selves then radiant 'with masses of colour, gold, and crimson, and violet. Yet there it was, and there the Bun could shine upon it, and tens of thousands of eyes were gaziag on the scene out of the crowded lattices. Glorious as the spectacle was, perhaps, however, it passed unheeded. Those eyes were watching all for another object, which now drew near. In an open space behind the constable there was seen approaching ' a white chariot,' drawn by two palfreys in white damask which swept the ground, a golden canopy borne above it making music with silver beUs : and in the chariot sat the observed of all observers, the beautiful occasion of all this glittering homage ; fortune's plaything of the hour, the Queen of England — queen at last — borne IS33-1 MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 455 along upon the waves of tlu§ sea of glory, breathing the perfmned incense of greatness which she had risked her fair name, her deKcacy, her honour, her self-respect, to win ; and she had won it. There she sat, dressed in white tissue rohes, her fair hair flowing loose over her shoulders, and her temples circled with a light coronet of gold and dia- monds — ^most beautiful — ^loveliest — ^most favoured per- haps, as she seemed at that hour, of aU England's daughters. Alas ! ' withia the hoUow round ' of that coronet — Kept death his court, and there the antick sat, Scoffing her state and grinning at her pomp. Allowing lier a little breath, a little scene To monarchize, he feared, and kill with looks. Infusing her with self and vain conceit, As if the flesh which walled ahout her life Were hrass impregnable ; and humoured thus, Bored through her castle walls ; and farewell, Queen. Fatal gift of greatness ! so dangerous ever ! so more than dangerous in those tremendous times when the fountains are broken loose of the great deeps of thought ; and nations are in the throes of revolution; — when ancient order and law and tradition are splitting in the social earthquake ; and as the opposing forces wrestle to and fro, those unhappy ones who stand out above the crowd become the symbols of the struggle, and fall the victims of its alternating fortunes. And what if into an unsteady heart and brain, intoxicated with splendovu', the outward chaos should find its way, convertiag the poor sUly soul iato an image of the same confusion, — ^Lf 456 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. conscience shoiild be deposed from her high, place, and the Pandora hox he broken loose of passions and sen- sualities and follies ; and at length there be nothing left of all which man or woman ought to value, save hope of God's forgiveness. Three short years have yet to pass, and again, on a summer morning. Queen Anne Boleyn will leave the Tower of London — ^not radiant then with beauty on a gay errand of coronation, but a poor wandering ghost, on a sad tragic errand, from which she will never more return, passing away out of an earth where she may stay no longer, into a presence where, nevertheless, we know that all is well — for all of us — and therefore for her. But let us not cloud her shortlived sunshine with the shadow of the future. She went on in her loveliness, the peeresses following in their carriages, with the royal guard in their rear. In Fenchurch-street she was met by the children of the city schools ; and at the corner of Gracechurch-street a masterpiece had been prepared of the pseudo- classic art, then so fashionable, by the merchants of the Styll-yard. A Mount Parnassus had been constructed, and a Helicon fountain upon it playing into a basin with four jets of Rhenish wine. On the top of the mountain sat Apollo with Calliope at his feet, and on either side the remaining Muses, holding lutes or harps, and singing each of them some ' posy ' or epigram in praise of the Queen, which was presented, after it had been sung, written in letters of gold. From Gracechurch-street, the procession passed to LeadenhaU, where there was a spectacle in better taste, 1533-] WATiRlAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 457 of tlie old English. Catholic kind, quaint perhaps and forced, but truly and even beautifully emblematic. There ■was again a 'Kttle mountain,' which was hung with red and white roses ; a gold ring was placed on the summit, on which, as the Queen appeared, a white falcon was made to ' descend as out of the sky ' — ' and then incon- tinent came down an angel with great melody, and set a close crown of gold upon the falcon's head ; and in the same pageant sat Saiat Anne with aU her issue beneath her ; and Mary Cleophas with her four children, of the which children one made a goodly oration to the Queen, of the fruitfulness of St Anne, trusting that like fruit should come of her.' ^ With such ' pretty conceits,' at that time the honest tokens of an English welcome, the new Queen was re- ceived by the citizens of London. These scenes must be multiplied by the niunber of the streets, where some fresh fancy met her at every turn. To preserve the festivities from flagging, every fountain and conduit within the walls ran all day with wine; the beUs of every steeple were ringing; children lay in wait with songs, and ladies with posies, in which all the resources of fantastic extravagance were exhausted ; and thus in an unbroken triumph — and to outward appearance re- ceived with the warmest affection — she passed under Temple Bar, down the Strand by Charing Cross to West- 1 Hall, p. 801. Hall was most likely an eye-witness, and may be thoroughly trusted in these descrip test him, which sometimes happens, by independent contemporary ac- counts, he proves faithful in the tions. 'WTieneTer we are able to I most minute particulars. 458 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. minster Hall. The King was not with her throughout the day ; nor did he intend to be with her iu any part of the ceremony. She was to reign without a rival, the undisputed sovereign of the hour. Saturday heing passed in showing herself to the people, she retired for the night to ' the King's manour house at Westminster,' where she slept. On the follow- ing morning, between eight and nine o'clock, she returned to the Hall, where the lord mayor, the city council, and the peers were again assembled, and took her place on the high dais at the top of the stairs under the cloth of state; while the bishops, the abbots, and the monks of the Abbey formed in the area. A railed way had been laid with carpets across Palace Yard and the Sanctuary to the Abbey gates, and when all was ready, preceded by the peers in their robes of Parliament, the Knights of the Garter in the dress of the order, she swept out under her canopy, the bishops and the monks ' solemnly singing.' The train was borne by the old Duchess of Norfolk her aiint, the Bishops of London and "Winchester on either side ' bearing up the lappets of her robe.' The Earl of Oxford carried the crown on its cushion immediately before her. She was dressed in purple velvet furred with ermine, her hair escaping loose, as she usually wore it, imder a wreath of diamonds. On entering the Abbey, she was led to the coronation chair, where she sat while the train fell into their places, and the preliminaries of the ceremonial were despatched. Then she was conducted up to the high altar, and anointed IS33-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 459 Queen of England, and she received from the hands of Cranmer, fresh come in haste from Dunstable, with the last words of his sentence upon Catherine scarcely silent upon his lips, the golden sceptre, and St Edward's crown. Did any twinge of remorse, any pang of painful re- collection, pierce at that moment the incense of glory which she was inhaling ? Did any vision flit across her of a sad mourning figure which once had stood where she was standing, now desolate, neglected, siaking into the darkening twilight of a life cut short by sorrow ? Who can tell ? At such a time, that figure would have weighed heavily upon a noble mind, and a wise mind would have been taught by the thought of it, that al- though Hfe be fleeting as a dream, it is long enough to experience strange vicissitudes of fortune. But Anne Boleyn was not noble and was not wise, — too probably she felt nothing but the delicious, all-absorbing, aU-in- toxicating present, and if that plain, suffering face pre- sented itself to her memory at all, we may fear that it was rather as a foil to her own surpassing loveliness. Two years later, she was able to exult over Catherine's death; she is not likely to have thought of her with gentler feelings in the first glow and flush of triumph. We may now leave these scenes. They concluded in the usual English style, with a banquet in the great hall, and with all outward signs of enjoyment and pleasure. There must have been but few persons present however who did not feel that the sunshine of such a day might not last for ever, and that over so dubious a marriage no •45o REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [cii. 5. EngKslmian. could exult with more than half a heart. It is foolish to hlame lightly actions which arise in the midst of circumstances which are and can be but imper- fectly known ; and there may have been political reasons which made so much pomp desirable. Anne Boleyn had been the subject of public conversation for seven years, and Henry, no doubt, desired to present his jewel to them in the rarest and choicest setting. Yet to our eyes, seeing, perhaps, by the Kght of what followed, a m.ore modest introduction would have appeared more suited to the doubtful nature of her position. At any rate we escape from this scene of splendour very gladly as from something unseasonable. It would have been well for Henry VIII. if he had lived iu a world in which women could have been dispensed with ; 80 ni, in all his relations with them, he succeeded. With men he could speak the right word, he coidd do the right thiag ; with women he seemed to be under a fatal necessity of mistake. It was now necessary, however, after this public step, to communicate in form to the Emperor the divorce and the new marriage. The King was assured of the recti- tude of the motives on which he had himself acted, and he knew at the same time that he had challenged the hostihty of the Papal world. Yet he did not desire a quarrel if there were means of avoiding it ; and more than once he had shown respect for the opposition which he had met with from Charles, as dictated by honour- able care for the interests of his kinswoman. He there- fore, in the truest language which wUl be met with in 'S33-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 461L the whole long series of the correspondence, composed a despatch for his ambassador at Brussels, and expressed, himself in a tone of honest sorrow for the injury which he had been compelled to commit. Neither June. the coercion which the Emperor had exerted over the Pope, nor his intrigues with his subjects in Ire^ land and England, could deprive the nephew of Cathe- rine of his right to a courteous explanation ; and Henry directed Doctor Nicholas Hawkins in making his com- munication ' to use only gentle words ; ' to express a hope that Charles would not think only of his own honour, but would remember public justice ; and that a friendship of long standing, which the interests of the subjects of both countries were concerned so strongly in maintaining, might not be broken. The instructions are too interesting to be passed over with a general de- scription. After stating the grounds on which Henry had proceeded, and which Charles thoroughly under- stood, Hawkins was directed to continue thus : — ' The King of England is not ignorant what respecr is due unto the world. How much he hath laboured and travailed therein he hath sufficiently declared and showed in his acts and proceedings. If he had contemned the order and process of the world, or the friendship and amity of your Majesty, he needed not to have sent so often to the Pope and to you both, nor continued and spent his time in delays. He might have done what he has done now, had it so liked him, with as little difficulty as now, if without such respect he would have followed his pleasure.' 462 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. j: The minister was then, to touch the Pope's behaviour and Henry's forbearance, and after that to say : — ' Going forward in that way his Highness saw that he could come to no conclusion ; and he was therefore compelled to step right forth out of the maze, and so to quiet himself at last. And is it not time to have an end in seven years ? It is not to be asked nor ques- tioned whether the matter hath been determined after the common fashion, but whether it hath in it common justice, truth, and equity. For observation of the com- mon order, his Grace hath done what lay in him. En- forced by necessity he hath found the true order which he hath in substance followed with effect, and hath done as becometh him. He doubteth not but your Majesty, remembering his cause from the beginning hitherto, will of yourself consider and think, that among mortal men nothing should be immortal ; and suits must once have an end, si possis recte, si non quocunque modo. If his Highness cannot as he would, then must he do as he may ; and he that hatli a journey to be perfected must, if he cannot go one way, essay another. For his matter with the Pope, he shall deal with him apart. Your Majesty he taketh for his friend, and as to a friend he openeth these matters to you, trusting to find your Majesty no less friendly than he hath done heretofore.'' If courtesy obliged Henry to express a con- fidence in the stability of the relations between iimself and Charles, which it was impossible that he ' FOXE, vol. f.T). III. 'S33-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 463 could have felt, yet in other respects this letter has the most pleasant merit of honesty. Hawkins was so much overcome by 'the sweetness of it/ that 'he nothing doubted if that the Emperor read the same, by God's grace he should he utterly persuaded ; ' and although in this expectation he was a little over sanguine, as in calmer moments he would have acknowledged, yet plain speech is never without its value ; and Charles himself, after he had tried other expedients, and they had not succeeded with him, found it more prudent to acquiesce in what could no longer be altered, and to return to cordiality. For the present he remained under the impression that by the great body of the English the divorce was looked upon with coldness and even with displeasure, that the King was supported only by the complacency of a few courtiers, and that the nation were prepared to compel him to undo the wrong which had been in- flicted upon Catherine and the princess. So he was assured by the Spanish party in England ; so all the disaffected assured him, who were perhaps themselves deceived. He had secured Ireland, and Scotland also in 80 far as James's promisies could secure it ; ^ and he was not disposed to surrender for the present so promising a game till he had tried his strength and proved his weak- ness. He replied coldly to Hawkins, ' That for the King of England's amity he would be glad thereof, so the said King would do works according. The matter ' Xorthnmberland to Henry VIII. : State Fapeis, toI. iv. pp. 598-9. 4^4 REIGN' OF HENRY THE EIGHTH.. [cii. J. was none of his; but the lady, whose rights had been violated, was his aunt and an orphan, and that he must see for her, and for her daughter his cousin.' ^ The scarcely ambiguous answer was something soft- ened the following day ; perhaps only, however, because it was too plain a betrayal of his .intentions. He com- municated at once with Catheriae, and Henry speedily learnt the nature of the advice which he had given to her. After the coronation had passed oflF so splendidly, when no disturbance had risen, no voice had been raised for her or for her daughter, the poor Queen's spirit for the moment had sunk; she had thought of leaving the country, and flyiag with the Princess Marj^ to Spain. The Emperor sent to urge her to remain ij, little longer, guaranteeing her, if she could command het patience, an ample reparation for her injuries. Whatever might appear upon the surface, the new queen, he was assured, was little loved by the people, and * they were ready to join with any prince who would espouse her quarrel.' ^ All classes, he said, were agreed in one common feeling of displeasure. They were afraid of a change of religion ; they were afraid of the wreck of their commerce ; and the whole country was fast ripening towards insurrection. The points on which he relied as the occasion of the disaffection betrayed the sources of his information. He was in correspondence with the regular clergy through Peto at Antwerp, and through his Flemish subjects with merchants of London. ' Hawkins to Henry VIII. ; State Papers, vol. vii. p. 488. ' UUKNET, vol. iii. p. 115. IS33-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 465, Among both, these classes, as well as among the White Rose nobles, he had powerful adherents ; and it could not have been forgotten in the Courts, either of London or Brussels, that within the memory of living men, a small band of exiles, equipped by a Duke of Burgundy, had landed at a Yorkshire village, and in a month had revolutionized the kingdom. In the eyes of Charles there was no reason why an attempt which had succeeded once might not succeed again imder circumstances seemingly of far fairer pro- mise. The strength of a party of insurrection is a power which official statesmen never justly comprehend. It depends upon moral influences, which they are profes- sionally incapable of appreciating. They are able com- placently to ignore the existence of substantial disaffec- tion though all society may be undermined ; they can build their hopes, when it suits their convenience, on the idle trifling of superficial discontent. In the present instance there was some excuse for the mistake. That in England there really existed an active. and organized opposition, prepared, when opportunity offered, to try the chances of rebellion, was no delusion of persons who measured facts by their desires ; it was an ascertained peril of serious magnitude, which might be seriously calculated upon ; and if the experiment was tried, reason- able men might fairly be divided in opinion on the, result to be expected. In the mean time the Government had been obliged to follow up the coronation of the new Queen by an act which the situation of the kingdom explained and ex- TOL. 1. 30 465 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. euseJ ; but wHcli, if Catherine had been no more than a private person, would have been wanton cruelty. Among the people she stiU. bore her royal title ; but the name of queen, so long as she was permitted to retain it, was an allowed witness against the legality of the sentence at Dunstable. There could not be ' two queens' in England,^ and one or other must retire from the de- signation. A proclamation was therefore issued by the council, declaring, that in consequence of the final proofs that the Lady Catherine had never been lawfully married to the King, she was to bear thenceforward the title which she had received after the death of her first husband, and be called the Princess Dowager. Harsh as this measure was, she had left no alternative to the Government by which to escape the enforcement of it, by her refusal to consent to any form of compromise. If she was queen, Anne Boleyn was not queen. If she was queen, the Princess Mary remained heir to the crown, and the expected offspring of Anne would be illegitimate. If the question had been merely of names, to have moved it would have been unworthy and wicked; but where .respect for private feeling was incompatible with the steps which a nation felt necessary in order to secure it- self against civil convulsions, private feeling was com- pelled not unjustly to submit to injury. Mary, though stiU a girl, had inherited both her father's will and her mother's obstinacy. She was in correspondence, as we have seen, with the Nun of Kent, and aware at least, if State Tapers, vol. i. p. 398. »S33] MARRIAGE V/ITB ANNE BOLEYN. 467 she was not further implicated in it, of a conspi.iicy to- place lier on the throne. Charles was engaged in 1he same designs; and it will not be pretended that Ca- therine was left without information of what was going forward, or that her own conduct was uninfluenced hy policy. These intrigues it was positively necessary to stifle, and it was impossible to leave a pretext of which so powerful a use might be made in the hands of a party whose object was not only to secure to the princess her right to succeed her father, but to compel him by arms either to acknowledge it, or submit to be deposed.^ Our sympathies are naturally on the side of the weak and the unsuccessful. State considerations lose their force after the lapse of centuries, when no interests of our own are any longer in jeopardy ; and we feel for the great sufferers of history only in their individual capacity, without recalling or caring for the political exigencies to which tihey were sacrificed. It is an error of disguised selfishness, the counterpart of the carelessness with which in our own age, when we are ourselves constituents of an interested public, we ignore what it is inconvenient to remember. Thus, therefore, on one hot Midsiunmer Simday in this year 1533, the people gathering to church in every parish through the English counties, read, . July 24. nailed upon the doors, a paper signed Henry R., setting forth that the Lady Catherine of Spain, here- tofore called Queen of England, was not to be called by ' Papers relating to the Jfun of Kent : B.olls Mouse MS. 468 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH, [CH. 5. tliat title any more, but was to be called Princess Dowager, and so to be held and esteemed. The pro- clamation, we may suppose, was read with varying com- ments ; of the reception of it ia the northern counties, the following information was forwarded to the Crown. The Earl of Derby, lord-lieutenant of Yorkshire, wrote to inform the council that he had arrested a certain ' lewd and naughty priest,' James Harrison by name, on the charge of having spoken unfitting and slanderous words of his Highness and the Queen's Grace. He had taken the examinations of several witnesses, which he had sent with his letter, and which were to the following eifect : — Richard Clark deposeth that the said James Harrison reading the proclamation, said that Queen Catherine was queen, Nan Bullen should not be queen, nor the King should be no king but on his bearing. William Dalton deposeth, that in his hearing the above-named James said, I will take none for queen but Queen Catherine — who the devil made Nan Bullen, that hoore, queen? I will never take her for queen — and he the said William answered, ' Hold thy peace, thou wot'st not what thou sayest — ^but that thou art a priest I should punish thee, that others should take ex- ample.' Richard Sumner and John Clayton depose, that they came in company with the said James from July. Perbalt to Eccleston, when the said James did say, 'This is a marvellous world — the King will put down the order of priests and destroy the saci'ament, IS33] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYISt. 469 but he cannot reign long, for York mil be in London hastily.' 1 Here was the later growth of the spirit which we saw a few months previously in the monks of Furness. The mutteriQgs of discontent had developed into plain open treason, confident of success, and scarcely caring to con- ceal itself — and Yorkshire was preparing for rebellion and ' the Pilgrunage of Grrace.' There is another quarter also into which we must follow the proclamation, and watch the effect of the Royal order in a scene were it is well that we should for a few moments rest. Catherine was stiU at AmpthHl, surrounded by her own attendants, who formed an inner circle, shielding her retirement against impertinent curiosity. She rarely or never allowed herself to be seen ; Lord Mountjoy, with an official retinue, was in attendance in the house ; but the occupation was not a pleasant one, and he was as wiUing to respect the Queen's seclusion as she to remain secluded. Injunctions arrived however from the Court at the end of June, which com- pelled him. to request an interview ; a deputation of the privy council had come down to inform the ex-queen of the orders of the Government, and to desire that they might be put in force in her own family. Aware pro- bably of the nature of the communication which was to be made to her, she refused repeatedly to admit them to her presence. At length, however, she nerved herself for the effi)rt, and on the 3rd of July ' Ellis, first series, vol. iL p. 43. 470 REIG.V OF HENR Y THE EIGHTH. [cii. 5. Mountjoy and the state, commissioners were informed that she was ready to receive them. As they entered her room she was lying on a sofa. She had a had cough, and she had hurt her foot with a pin, and was unable to stand or walk. Her attendants were all present by her own desire ; she was glad to see aroxmd her some sympathizing human faces, to enable her to endure the cold hard eyes of the officials of the council. She inquired whether the message was to be de- livered in writing or by word of mouth. They replied that they had brought with them in- structions which they were to read, and that they were further charged with a message which was to be de- livered verbally. She desired that they would read their written despatch. It was addressed to the Princess Dowager, and she at once excepted to the name. She was not Princess Dowager, she said, but Queen, and the King's true wife. She came to the King a clear maid for any bodQy knowledge of Prince Arthur ; she had borne him lawful issue and no bastard, and therefore queen she was, and queen she would be while she lived. The commissioners were prepared for the objection, and continued, without replying, to read. The paper contained a statement of worn-out unrealities ; the old story of the judgment of the Universities and the learned men, the sentence of Convocation, and of the Houses of Parliament ; and, finally, the fact of substantial import- Ance, that the King, acting as he believed according to the laws of God, had married the Lady Anne Boleyn, 1533-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 471 who was now his lawful wife, and anointed Queen of England. Oh yes, she answered when they had done, we know that, and ' we know ths authority by which it has been done— 7-more by power than justice.' The King's learned men were learned heretics ; the honest learning was for her. As for the seals of the Universities there were strange stories about the way in which they had been obtained. The Universities and the Parliament had done what the King bade them ; and they had gone against their consciences in doing it ; but it was of no importance to her — she was in the hands of the Pope, who was God's Vicar, and she acknowledged no other judge. The commissioners informed her of the decision of the council that she was no longer to bear the title of Queen. It stood, they said, neither with the laws of Grod nor man, nor with the King's honour, to have two queens named within the realm ; and in fact, there was but one Queen, the King's lawful wife, to whom he was now married. She replied shortly that she was the King's lawful Queen, and none other. There was little hope in her manner that anything which could be said would move her ; but her visitors were ordered to try her to the uttermost. The King, they continued, was surprised that she could be so disobedient ; and not only that she was dis- obedient herself, but that she allowed and encouraged her servants in the same conduct. 47* REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. She was ready to obey the King, she answered, when she could do so without disobeying God ; but she could not damn her soul even for him. Her servants, she said, must do the best they could ; they were standing round her as she was speaking ; and she turned to them with an apology, and a hope that they would pardon her. She would hinder her cause, she said, and put her soul in danger, if on their account she were to relinquish her name, and she could not do it. The deputation next attempted her on her worldly side. If she would obey, they informed her that she would be allowed not only her jointure as Princess Dow- ager and her own private fortime, but all the settlements which had been made upon her on her marriage with the King. She ' passed not upon possessions, in regard of this matter,' she replied. It touched her conscience, and no Worldly considerations were of the slightest moment. In disobeying the King, they said, seeing that she \vas none other than his subject, she might give cause for dissension and disturbance, and she might lose the favour of the people. She ' trusted not,' she replied — she ' never minded it, lior would" she ' — she ' desired only to save her right ; and if she should lose the favour of the people in defend- ing that right, yet she trusted to go to heaven cum fama et infami^.' Promises and persuasions being imavailing, they tried threats. She was told that if she persisted in so obstinate a course, the King would be obliged to make >33o] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 473 known to the world tlie offers wHcL. he had made to her, and the ill reception which they had met with — and then he would perhaps withdraw those offers, and con- ceive some e\dl opinions of high displeasure towards her. She answered that there was no manner of offers- neither of lands nor goods that she had respect unto va. comparison of her cause — and as to the loss of the King's affection, she trusted to Grod, to whom she would daily pray for him. The learned council might as well have reasoned with the winds, or threatened the waves of the sea. But they were not yet weary, and their next effort was as foolish as it was imgenerous. They suggested, ' that if she did reserve the name of queen, it was thought that she would do it of a vaia desire and appetite of glory ; and further, she might be an occasion that the King would withdraw his love from her most dear daughter the Lady Priacess, which should chiefly move her, if iione other cause did.' They must have known Kttle of Catheriae, if they thought she could be iafluenced by childish vanity. It Was for no vaia glory that she cared, she answered proudly; she was the King's true wife, and her con- science forbade her to call herself otherwise ; the princess was his true begotten chUd ; and as God hath given her to them, so for her part she would render her again ; neither for daughter, family, nor possessions, would she yield in her cause ; and she made a solemn protestation, ^ calling on every one present to bear witness to what she said, that the King's wife she was, and such she would 474 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. S- take herself to be, and that she would never surrender the name of queen till the Pope had decided that she must bear it no longer. So ended the Erst interview. Catherine, before the commissioners left her, desired to have a copy of the pro- posals which they had brought, that she might translate and send them to Rome. They returned with them the next day, when she requested to see the report which they intended to send to the council of the preceding conversation. It was placed in her hands ; and as she read it and found there the name of Princess Dowager, she took a pen and dashed out the words, the mark of which indignant ink- stroke may now be seen in the letter from which this account is taken."^ With the ac- curacy of the rest she appeared to be satisfied — only when she foimd again their poor suggestion that she was influenced by vanity, she broke out with a bursj; of passionate indignation. ' I would rather be a poor beggar's wife,' she said, ' and be sure of heaven, than queen of all the world, and stand in doubt thereof by reason of my own consent. I stick not so for vain glory, but be- cause I know myself the King's true wife — and while you call me the King's subject, I was his subject while he took me for his wife. * But if he take me not for his wife, I came not into this rea'm as merchandise, nor to be married to any merchant ; nor do I continue in the same but as his lawful wife, and not as a subject to live Cotton MS Otho X., p. 199. State Papers, vol. i. p. 397. I533-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 475 under his dominion otherwise. I have always demeaned myself well and truly towards the King — and if it can be proved that either in writing- to the Pope or any other, I have either stirred or procured anything against his Grace, or have been the means to any person to make any motion which might be prejudicial to his Grace or to his realm, I am content to suffer for it. I have done England little good, and I should be sorry to do it any harm. But if I should agree to your motions and per- suasions, I should slander myself, and confess to have been the Kiag's harlot for twenty-four years. The cause, I cannot tell by what subtle means, has been de- termiued here within the King's realm, before a man of his own making, the Bishop of Canterbury, no person iadifferent I think in that behalf; and for the indiffer- ence of the place, I think the place had been more in- different to have been judged in hell ; for no truth can be suffered here, whereas the devils themselves I suppose do tremble to see the truth in this cause so sore op- pressed.' ' Most noble, spirited, and like a queen. Yet she woidd never have been brought to this extremity, and she would have shown a truer nobleness, if four years before she could have yielded at the Pope's entreaty on the first terms which were proposed to her. Those terms would have required no humiliating confessions ; they would have involved no sentence on her marriage nor touched her daughter's legitimacy. She would have Slate Papers, vol. i. p 404. 475 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [Ch. 5. broken no law of Grod, nor seemed to break it. She was required only to forget her own interests ; and she would not forget them, though all the world should be wrecked by her refusal. She denied that she was concerned in ' motions prejudicial to the King or to the realm,' but she must have placed her own interpretation on the words, and would have considered excommunication and interdict a salutary discipline to the King and Parlia- ment. She knew that this sentence was imminent, that in its minor form it had already fallen ; and she knew that her nephew and her friends in England were plotting to give effect to the decree. But we may pass over this. It is not for an English writer to dwell upon those proceedings of Catherine of Arragon, which English re- morse has honourably insisted on forgetting. Her in- juries, inevitable as they were, and forced upon her in great measure by her own wilfulness, remain among the saddest spots in the pages of our history. One other brief incident remains to be noticed here, to bring up before the imagination the features of this momentous summer. It is contained in the postscript of a letter of Cranmer to Hawkins the ambassador in Germany ; and the manner in which the story is told is no less suggestive than the story itself. The inmiediate present, however awful its import, win ever seem common and familiar to those who live and breathe in the midst of it. In the days of the September massacre at Paris, the theatres were open as usual ; men ate, and drank, and laughed, and cried, and went about their common work, unconscious that those IS33-J MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 477 days which were passing by them, so much like other days, would remain the iies nefasti, accursed ia the memory of mankind for ever.* Nothiag is terrible, no- thing is sublime in human things, so long as they are before our eyes. The great man has so much in com- mon with men ia general, the routiae of daily life, in periods the most remarkable ia history, contains so much that is unvaryiag, that it is only when time has done its work, and' all which was unimportant has ceased to be remembered, that such men and such times stand out ia their true significance. It might have been thought that to a person like Cranmer, the court at Dunstable, the coronation of the new Queen, the past out of which these thiags had risen, and the futvire which they threatened to involve, would have seemed at least seri- ous ; and that engaged as he had been as a chief actor, ia a matter which, if it had done nothing else, had broken the heart of a high-born lady whom once he had honoured as his queen, he would have been either silent about his exploits, or if he had spoken of them, would have spoken not without some show of emotion. "We look for a symptom of feeling, but we do not find it. When the coronation festivities were concluded he wrote to his friend an account of what had beea done by him- self and others in the light gossiping tone of easiest con- tent; as if he were describiag the common incidents of a common day. It is disappointing, and not wholly to be approved of. Still less can we approve of the passage with which he concludes his letter. ' Other news we have i;ione notable, but that one 478 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 5. Fritli, wMch was in the Tower in prison,' was appointed by the King's Grace to be examined before me, my Lord of London, my Lord of Winchester, my Lord of Suffolk, my Lord Chancellor, and my Lord of Wiltshire ; whose opinion was so notably erroneous that we could not dispatch him, but were fain to leave him to the de- termination of his ordinary, which is the Bishop of Lon- don. His said opinion is of such nature, that he thought it not necessary to be believed as an article of our faith that there is the very corporeal presence of Christ within the host and sacrament of the altar ; and holdeth on this point much after the opinion of CEcolampadius. 'And surely I myseK sent for him three or four times to persuade him to leave that imagination. But for all that we could do therein, he would not apply to any counsel. Notwithstanding now he is at a final end with all examinations ; for my Lord of London hath given sentence, and delivered him to the secular power, when he looketh every day to go unto the fire. And there is also condemned with him. one Andrew a tailor for the self-same opinion ; and thus fare you well.' ^ These victims went as they were sentenced, dismissed to their martyr's crowns at Smithfield, as Queen Anne ' Cromwell had endeavoured to save Frith, or at least had been in- terested for him. Sir Edmund "Wal- siugham, writing to him about the prisoners in the Tower, says : — ' Two of them wear irons, and Frith wear- eth none Although he lacketh irons, he lacketh not wit nor pleasant tongue. His learning passeth my judgment. Sir, as ye said, it were great pity to lose him if he may be reconciled.' —"Walsingham to Crom- well : MS. State Paper Office, second series, vol. xlvi. ''■ Ei.Lis, first series, vol. ii. p. 40. IS33-] MARRIAGE WITH ANNE BOLEYN. 479 Boleyn but a few days before bad received ber golden crown at tbe altar of "Westminster Abbey. Twenty years later anotber fire was blazing under tbe walls of Oxford ; and tbe band wbicb was now writing tbese ligbt lines was blackeniag in tbe flames of it, paying tbere tbe penalty of tbe same ' imagination ' for wbicb Fritb and tbe poor London tailor were witb sucb cool indifference condemned. It is affecting to know tbat Fritb's writ- ings were tbe instruments of Cranmer's conversion ; and tbe fatbers of tbe Anglican Cbnrcb bave left a monument of tbeir sorrow for tbe sbedding of tbis in- nocent blood in tbe order of tbe Communion Service, wbicb closes witb tbe very words on wbicb tbe primate, witb bis brotber bisbops, bad sat in judgment.^ ' 'The natural body and blood of our Saviour Christ are in Heaven, and not here, it being against the truth of Christ's natural body to be at one time in more places' than one.' The argument and the words in which it is expressed were Frith's. — See FoxE, vol. v. p. 6. 4^0 CHAPTER VI. THE PKOTESTANTS. WHERE cliaiLges are about to take place of great and enduring moment, a kind of prologue, on a small scale, sometimes anticipates tlie true openiag of the drama ; like the first drops which give notice of the coming storm, or as if the shadows of the reality were projected forwards into the future, and imitated ia 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 century, confused, imperfect, disproportioned, to outward appearance barren of resiilts ; yet containing a representative of each one of the mixed forces by which that great change was vl- timately effected, 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 involuntarily, by attacks on the sacramental system and the Catholic faith, — while innovation ia doctriae was accompanied also with the tendency which characterized the extreme THE PROTESTANTS. 481 development of tte later Protestants — towards political republicanism, the fifth monarchy, and conmiunity of goods. Some account of this movement must be given in this place, although it can be but a sketch only. ' LoUardry "^ has a history of its own ; but it forms no proper part of the history of the Reformation. It was a separate phenomenon, provoked by the same causes which produced their true fruit at a later period ; but it formed no portion of the stem on which those fruits ul- timately 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 from their first failure, the people stamped their hatred of heterodoxy into their language ; and in the word miscreant, misbe- liever, as the synonjrm of the worst species of reprobate, they left an indelible record of the popular estimate of the followers of John Wycliffe. The Lollard story opens with the disputes between the Crown and the See of Rome on the presentation to English benefices. For the hundred and fifty years which succeeded the Conquest, the right of nominating the archbishops, the bishops, and the mitred abbots, had been claimed and exercised by the Crown. On the pass- ing of the Great Charter, the Church had recovered its liberties, and the privilege of free election had been con- ceded by a special clause to the clergy. The practice ' The origin of th e word Lollards has been always a disputed question. I conceive it to be from Lolium. They were the ' tares ' in the corn of Catholicism. 31 482 REIGN' OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. wMcli tlien became estabKshed 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 conge d'^lire. The application was a form ; the consent ■was invariatle. A bishop was then elected hy a majority of suffrages ; his name was subniitted to the metropolitan, and by him to the Pope. If the Pope signified his approval, the election was complete ; con- secration followed; and the bishop having been furn- ished with his biJls of investiture, was presented to the Kiag, and from him received ' the, temporalities ' of his see. The mode in which the great abbots were chosen was precisely similar ; the superiors of the orders to which the abbeys belonged were the channels of commxmication with the Pope, in the place of the archbishops ; but the elections in themselves were free, and were conducted in the same manner. The smaller church benefices, the small monasteries or parish churches, were ia the hands of private patrons, lay or ecclesiastical ; but in the case of each institution a reference was admitted, or was sup- posed 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 presimied that his sacred o£B.ce would forbid him to abuse, but which, however, if he so imfottunately pleased, he might abuse at his dis- cretion. He had absolute power over every nomination to an English benefice ; he might refuse his consent till such adequate reasons, material or spiritual, as he con- sidered sufiicient to induce him. to acquiesce, had been submitted to his consideration. In the case of nomina- 1306-7.] THE PROTESTANTS. 483 tions to the religious Houses, the superiors of the various orders residing abroad had equal facilities for obstruct- iveness ; and the consequence of so large a confidence in the purity of the higher orders of the Church became visible in an Act of Parliament which it was found neces- sary to pass iu 1306-7.^ 'Of late,' says this Act, 'it has come to the knowledge of the King, by the grievous complaiut of the honour- able persons, lords, and other noblemen of his realm, that whereas monasteries, priories, and other religious houses were founded to the honour and glory of God, and the advancement of holy Church, by the King and his progenitors, and by the said noblemen and their ances- tors ; and a very great portion of lands and tenements have been given by them to the said monasteries, pri- ories, and religious houses, and the religious men serving God in them ; to the intent that clerks and laymen might be admitted in such houses, and that sick and feeble folk might be maintained, hospitality, 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 cer- tain aliens their superiors, as the abbots and priors of the Cistertians, the Premonstrants, the orders of Saint Au- gustine 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, pay- ments, and impositions upon every of the said monaste- 1 35 Ed. I. ; Statutes of Carlisle, cap. 1—4. 4S4 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. ' [ch. 6. ries 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 nimiber of reKgious persons being oppressed by such tallages, payments, and imposi- tions, the service of Grod is diminished, alms are not given to the poor, the sick, and the feeble ; the healths of the living 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 chstritably given to godly uses and to the service of God, is now converted to an evil end, by permission whereof there groweth great scandal to the people.' To provide against a con- tinuance of these abuses, it was enacted that no 're- ligious ' persons should, under any pretence or form, send out of the kingdom any kind of tax, rent, or tal- lage ; and that ' priors aliens ' should not presume to assess any payment, charge, or other 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 general kind might answer the desired end. Lucrative encroach- ments, however, do not yield so easily to treatment; nearly fifty years after it became necessary to re-enact ' 35 Ed. I. cap. 1—4. 1351-2] THE PR02-ESTANTS. 485 the same statute ; and while recapitulating the proYisions of it, the ParKament 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 affiliated so- cieties. Each English benefice had become the fountain of a rivulet which flowed into the Eoman exchequer, or a property to be distributed as the private patronage of the Roman Bishop : and the EngKsh Parliament for the first time found itself in collision with the Father of Christendom. 'The Pope,' says the fourth* of the twenty-fifth of Edward III., ' accroaching to himself the signories of the benefices within the realm of England, doth give and grant the same to ahens which did never dwell in Eng- land, and to cardinals which coidd not dwell here, and to others as well aliens as denizens, whereby manifold in- conveniences have ensued.' ' Not regarding ' the statute of Edward I., he had also continued to present to bishop- rics, abbeys, priories, and other valuable preferments : money in large quantities was carried out of the realm from the proceeds of these offices, and it was necessary to insist emphatically that the Papal nominations 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 Englishman or a stranger. It was therefore decreed that the elections to bishoprics should be free as in time past, that the rights 486 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. of patrons should be preserved, and penalties of impri- sonment, forfeiture, or outlawry, according to the com- plexion of the offence, should he attached to all impetra- tion 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 law was stni defied, or still evaded ; and the struggle continued till the close of the century, the legislature labouring patiently, but ineffectually, to confine with fresh enact- ments their ingenious adversary.^ At length symptoms appeared of an intention on the part of the popes to maiatain their claims with spiritual censures, and the nation was obliged to resolve upon the ' 25 Ed. III. stat. 4. A clause in the preamble of this Act bears a significantly Erastian complexion : come seinte Eglise estoit founde en estat de prelacie deins le roi/aulme Dengleierre par le dii Hoi et ses progenitours, et countes, barons, et nobles de ce Moyaulme et lours ances- tres, pour eux et le poeple enfourmer de la lei Dieu. If the Church of England was held to have been founded not by the successors of the Apostles, , but by the king and the nobles, the claim of Henry VIII. to the supremacy was precisely in the spirit of the constitution. = 38 Ed. III. stet. 2 ; 3 Eic. II. cap. 3; 12 Kio. II. cap. 15; 13 Eic, II. stat. :i. The first. of these Acts contains a paragraph which shifts the blame from the popes themselves to the officials of the Eoman courts. The statute is said to have been enacted en eide et con- fort du. pape qui moult sovent a estee trublez par tieles et semblables clamours et irapetracions, et qui y meist voluntiers covenable remedie, si sa seyntetee estoit sur ces choses enfoumee. I had regarded this passage as a fiction of courtesy lite that of the Long Parliament who levied troops in the name of Charles I. The suspicious omission of the clause, however, in the translation of the statutes which was made in the later years of Henry VIII. justifies an interpretation more favourable to the intentions of the popes. 138990.] THE PROTESTANTS. 487 course whicli, in the event of their resorting to that ex- tremity, it would follow. The lay lords ' and the House of Commons found no difficulty in arriving at a conclu- sion. They passed a fresh penal statute with prohibitions even more emphatically stringent, and decided that ' if any man brought iato this realm any sentence, summons, or excommunication, contrary to the effect of the statute, he should iacur pain of life and members, with forfeiture of goods ; and if any prelate made execution of such sentence, his temporalities should be taken from him, and should abide in the King's hands tiU redress was made.' ^ So bold a measure threatened nothiag 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 milder course. The strength of the opposition to the Papacy lay with the Commons.^ When the session of ParKa- ment was over, a great council was summoned to recon- sider what should be done, and an address was drawn up, and forwarded to Rome, with a request that the then reigning Pope would devise some manner by which the difficulty could be arranged.* Boniface IX. replied with the same want of judgment which .was shown afterwards ' The abbots and bishops de- cently protested. Their protest was read in Parliament and entered on the Rolls. Rot. Pari. iii. [264] quoted by Lingard, who has given a full account of these transactions. " 13 lUc. II. Stat. 2. ' See i6 Ric. II. cap. 5. * This it will be remembered was the course which was afterwards followed by the Parliament under Henry VIII. before abolishing the payment of first-fruits. 488 REIGN OF ITENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6.' on an analogous occasion by Clement VII. He dis- believed the danger ; and daring the Government to per- severe, he granted a prebendal stall at Wells to an Italian 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 two coun- tries. A decision was given in England in favour of the nominee of the King, and the bishops agreeing to support the Crown 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 surrender 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 im- portance of the crisis. Parliament either was sitting at the time when the excommunication was issued, or else it was immediately assembled ; and the Houseof Coiixmons drew up, in the form of a petition to the King, a declara- tion of the circumstances which had occurred. After having stated generally the English law on the present- ation to benefices, ' ITow of late,' they added, ' divers processes be made by his Holiness the Pope, and censures of excommimication upon certain bishops, because they have made execution of the judgments [given in the King's courts], to the open disherison of the crown; 1392 ' Lingard Bays, that ' there were rumours that if the prelates executed the decree of the Jiing's courts, they woukl he excommunicated.' — Vol. iii. p. 172. The language of the Act of Parliament, 16 Ric. II. cap. 5, is explicit that the sentence was pro-- uounced. 1392-3] 1'HE PROTESTANTS. 489 whereby, if remedy be not provided, tlie crown of Eng- land, which hath been so free at all times, that it has been ia 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 regality, and aU his reahn.' The Commons, therefore, on their part, declared, ' That the things so attempted were clearly against the King's crown and his. regality, used and approved of ia the time of all his progenitors, and therefore they and all the liege coimnons of the realm would stand with their said lord the King-, and his said crown, in the cases aforesaid, to live and die.' ^ Whether they made allusion to the Act of 1389 does not appear — a measure passed under protest from one of the estates of the realm was possibly held unequal to meet the emergency — at aU events they would not rely upon it. For after this peremptory assertion of their own opinion, they desired the King, ' and required him in the way of justice,' 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 without reservation that they would support the Crown. The bishops (they were in a diiEculty for which all allowance must be made) gave a cautious, but also a manly answer. They would not affirm, they said, that the Pope had a right to excommunicate them ia such cases, and they 16 Kic. II. cap. 5. ' Ibid. 493 REIG.V OF ff£jVA'V THE EIGHTH. [CH. 0. would not say that lie had not. It was clear, however, that, legal or illegal, such excommunication was against the privileges of the English Crown, and therefore that, on the whole, they would and ought to he with the Crown, loiahnent, like loyal subjects, as they were bound by their allegiance.^ In this unusual and emphatic manner, the three estates agreed that the Pope shoidd be resisted ; and an Act passed ' that all persons suing at the Court of Rome, and obtaining thence any bulls, instruments, sentences of excommunication which touched the Kiag, or were against him, his regality, or his realm, and they which brought the same within the realm, or received the same, or made thereof notification, or any other execution whatever, within the realm or without, they, their notaries, procurators, maiutainers and abettors, fautors and counsellors, should be put out of the King's pro- tection, and their lands and tenements, goods and chat- tels, be forfeited.' The resolute attitude of the country terminated the struggle. Boniface prudently yielded, and for the 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 successfully. The analo- gous liberties of the Church might have followed ; and other channels, too, might have been cut off, through • 16 Eio. II. cap. 5. 1392-3] THE PKOTESTANTS. 491 whicli the Papal exchequer fed itself on English blood. But at this crisis the anti-Roman policy was arrested in its course hy another movement, which turned the cur- rent of suspicion, and frightened back the nation to con- servatism. While the Crown and the Parliament had been en- gaged with the Pope, the undulations of the dispute had penetrated down among the body of the people, and an agitation had been commenced of an analogous kitid against the spiritual authorities at home. The ParKa- ment had lamented that the duties of the religious houses were left unfulfilled, in consequence of the extortions of their superiors abroad. The people, who were equally convinced of the neglect of duty, adopted an iaterpret- ation of the phenomenon less favourable to the clergy, and attributed it to the temptations of worldliness, and the self-indulgence generated by enormous wealth. This form of discontent found its exponent in John Wycliffe, the great forerunner of the Reformation, whose austere figure stands out above the crowd of notables in English history, with an outliae not imlike that of another forerunner of a greater change. The early life of Wyclifie is obscure. Lewis, on the authority of Leland,^ says that he was born near Rich- mond, in Yorkshire. Fuller, though with some hesi- tation, prefers Durham.^ He emerges into distinct 1360. ' Lewis, Lift of Wycliffe. " If such scientia media might be allowed to man, which is beneath certainty and above conjecture, such should I call our persuasion that he was born in Durham. — Fullek's Worthies, Tol. i. p. 479. 492 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. notice in 1360, ten years subsequent to tlie passing of the iirst Statute of Provisors, having then acquired a great Oxford reputation as a lecturer in diviaity, and having earned for himself powerful friends and powerful enemies. He had made his name distiaguished by attacks upon the clergy for their indolence and profligacy : attacks both written and oraUy delivered — those written, we observe, being 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, Archbishop Islip dyiug, 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. nom.inated the ex- warden one of his chaplains imme- diately after, and employed him on an important mission to Bruges, where a conference on the benefice question was to be held with a Papal commission. Other Church preferment was subsequently given to Wyclifie ; but Oxford remained the chief scene of his work. He continued to hold his professorship of divin- ity ; 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 commimicate fresh drawn froni the fountain, held an infiuence which in these days it is as difficult to imagine as, however, it is impossible to overrate. Students from ' The Last Age of the Church was written in 1356. See Lewis, P-3 1360-77.] THE PROTESTANTS. 493 all Europe flocked to tlie feet of a celebrated professor, who became the leader of a party by the mere fact of his position. The burden of Wycliffe's teaching was the exposure of the indolent fictions which passed under the name of reKgion in the established theory of the Church. He was a man of most simple life ; austere in appearance, with bare feet and russet mantle.^ As a soldier of Christ, he saw in his Great Master and his Apostles the patterns whom he was boimd to imitate. By the contagion of example he gathered about him other men who thought as he did ; and gradually, under his captaiacy, these ' poor priests,' as they were called — vowed to poverty because Christ was poor — ^vowed to accept no benefice, lest they should misspend the property of the poor, and because, 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 and of in- dulgences, but of repentance and of the grace of God. They carried with them copies of the Bible which Wycliffe had translated, leaving here and there, as they travelled, their costly treasures, as shining seed points of light ; and they refused to recognize the authority of the bishops, or their right to silence them. If this had been aU, and perhaps if Edward III. had been succeeded by a prince less miserably incapable than his grandson Eichard, Wycliffe might have made good 1 Leland. ' Lewis, p. 287. 494 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. his groimd ; the moTement of the Parliament against the Pope might have united in a common stream with the spiritual move against the Church at home, and the Re- formation have been antedated by a century. He was summoned to answer for himself before the Archbishop of Canterbury in 1377. He appeared in court supported by the presence of John of Gaunt, Dulce of Lancaster, the eldest of Edward's surviving sons, and the authorities were unable to strike him behind so powerful a shield. But the 'poor priests' had other doctrines besides those which they discovered in the Bible, relating to sub- jects with which, as apostles, they would have done bet- ter if they had shrunk from meddhng. The inefficiency of the clergy was occasioned, as Wycliffe thought, by their wealth and by their luxury. He desired to save them from a temptation too heavy for them to bear, and he insisted 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 fell simul- taneously into the weak hands of Richard II., and the consequence was a rapid spread of disorder. In the year which followed Richard's accession, consistory judges were assaulted in their courts, sanctuaries were violated, priests were attacked and ill-treated in church, churchyard, and cathedral, and even while engaged in the mass ; ' the contagion of the growing anarchy seems I Eic. II. cap. 13. 378-81.] THE PROTESTANTS. 495 to have touched even WycKffe himself, and touched him in a point most deeply dangerous. His theory of property, and his study of the character of Christ, had led him to the near confines of Anabaptism. Expanding his views upon the estates of the Church into an axiom, he taught that ' charters of perpetual inherit- ance were impossible ; ' ' that God coidd not give men civil possessions for ever ; ' ' ' that property was founded in grace, and derived from God ; ' and ' seeing that for- feiture was the punishment of treason, and all sin was treason against God, the sinner must consequently 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 princi- ples ; and human legislation may only meddle, with them at its peril. The theory as an abstraction could be re- presented as applying equally to the laity as to the clergy, and the new teaching received a practical comment in 1 38 1, in the invasion of London by Wat, the tyler of Dartford, and 100,000 men, who were to level all ranks, put down the Church, and establish \iniversal libertj'.^ Two priests accompanied the insurgents, not "WycHffe's followers, but the licentious counterfeits of them, who trod inevitably in their footsteps, and were as iaevitablj'' countenanced by their doctrines. The insurrection was • Walsinoham, 206-7, apud LiNGABD. It is to be observed, however, that Wycliffe himself limit- ed his arguments strictly to the property of the clergy. See Mil- MAv's History of Latin Cliriatianity, vol. V. p. 508. " Walsixgham, p. 27s, apud LiNGAED. 496 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. attended with the bloodshed, destruction, and ferocity natural to such outbreaks. The Archbishop of Canter- bury and many gentlemen were murdered ; and a great part of London sacked and burnt. It woiild be absurd to attribute this disaster to "Wycliffe, nor was there any desire to hold him responsible for it ; but it is equally certain that the doctrines which he had taught were in- compatible, at that particular time, with an effective re- pression of the spirit which had caused the explosion. It is equally certain that he had brought discredit on his nobler efforts by ambiguous language on a subject of the utmost difScxilty, and had taught the wiser and better portion of the people to confound heterodoxy of opinion with sedition, anarchy, and disorder. So long as Wycliffe lived, his own lofty character was a guarantee for the conduct of his immediate dis- ciples ; and although his favour had far declined, a party in the State remained attached to him, with suflScient in- fluence to prevent the adoption of extreme measures against the ' poor priests.' In the year following the insurrection, an Act was passed for their repression in the House of 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,' ' engendering discord between the estates of the realm.' The ordi- naries had no power to silence them, and had therefore desired that commissions should be issued to the sheriffs of the various counties, to arrest all such persons, and 1382.] THE PROTESTANTS. 497 confine them, until they ■would 'justify themselves' in the ecclesiastical courts.* Wycliffe petitioned against the hUl, and it was rejected ; not so much perhaps out of tenderness for the reformer, as because the Lower House was excited by the controversy with the Pope ; and being doubtfully disposed towards the clergy, was reluctant to subject the people to a more stringent spiritual control. But Wycliffe himself meanwhile had received a clear intimation of his own declining position. His opposition to the Church authorities, and his efforts at re-invigor- atiag the faith of the country, had led him into doubtful statements on the nature of the eucharist ; he had en- tangled himself in dubious metaphysics on a subject on which no middle course is really possible ; and 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 Duke (not unnaturally under the circimistances) declined to encourage what he could neither approve nor understand ; ^ and Wycliffe, 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 preach again in Oxford, and retired to his living of Lutter- p^j, ^j^ worth, ia Leicestershire, where two years later '384- he died. With him departed aU which was best and |)urest ia the movement which he had commenced. The zeal ' 5 Ric. II. cap. 5. WlLKllss, Concilia, iii. 160 — 167. VOL. I. 32 498 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [c£ 6. of his followers was not extinguislied, but the wisdom was extinguislied which had directed it ; and perhaps the being treated as the enemies of order had itself a tendency to make them what they were belieyed to be. They were left unmolested for the next twenty years, the feebleness of the GrOTemment, the angry complex- ion which had been assumed by the dispute with Rome, and the political anarchy in the closing decade of the century, combining to give them temporary shelter ; but they availed themselves of their opportunity to travel further on the dangerous road on which they had en- tered ; and on the settlement of the country 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 138a, only for more sharp denxmciation, and a more cruel fate ; and Boniface having healed, on his side, the wounds which had been opened, by weU-timed concessions, there was no reason left for leniency. The character of the Lollard teaching was thus described (perhaps in somewhat ex- 1400-1. . aggerated language) in the preamble of the Act of 1401.* ' Divers false and perverse people,' so runs the Act £)e Heretico comburendo, ' of a certain new sect, damnably thinking of the faith of the sacraments of the Church, and of the authority of the same, against the law of God and of the Church, usurping the office of preaching, do perversely and maliciously, in divers places within Se Seretico comburendo. 2 Hen. IV. cap. 15. I40O-I.] TH& PROTESTANTS. 499 tlie realm, pteach and teach divers new doctrines, and wicked erroneous opinions, contrary to tte faith and determination of' Holy Church. And of such sect and wicked doctrines they make unlawful conventicles, they hold and exercise schools, they make and write books, they 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 Majesty, sufficiently correct these said false and perverse people, nor refrain their malice, because they do go from diocese to diocese, 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 aU order and rule, right and rea- son.' Something of these violent accusations is perhaps due to the horror with which false doctrine in matters of faith was looked upon in the CathoKc 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 as religious re- formers ; the revolt against the spiritual authority had encouraged and countenanced a revolt against the secu- lar ; and we cannot be surprised, therefore, that these institutions skould have sympathized with each other. 500 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [ch. 6. and have united to repress a danger wliicli was formid- able to both. The bishops, by this Act, receiyed arbitrary power to arrest and imprison on suspicion, without check or re- straint of law, at their will and pleasure. Prisoners who refused to abjure their errors, who persisted in heresy, or relapsed into it after abjuration,, were sentenced to be burnt at the stake — a dreadful punishment, on the wick- edness of which the world has long been happily agreed. Yet we must remember that those who condemned teachers of heresy to the flames, considered that heresy itself involved everlasting perdition; that they were but faintly imitatiag the severity which orthodoxy still ascribes to Almighty God HimseK. The tide which was thus setting back in favour of the Church did not yet, however, flow freely, and without a check. The Commons consented to sacrifice the heretics, but they stiU cast wistful looks on the lands of the re- ligious houses. On two several occasions, in. 1406, and again in 1410, spoliation was debated in the Lower House, a;nd representations were made upon the subject to the King.' The country, too, continued to be agitated with war and treason ; and when Henry Y. became King, in 141 2, the Church was still uneasy, and the Lollards were as dangerous as ever. Whether by pru- dent conduct they might have secured a repeal of the persecuting Act is uncertain ; it is more likely, from their conduct, that they had made their existence in- Stow, 330, 338 I4t2.j THE PROTESTANTS. 501 compatible with, the security of any tolerable govern- ment. A rum^our having gone abroad that the King intended 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. These papers were traced to Sir John Oldcastle, otherwise called Lord Cobham, a man whose true character is m.ore difficult to distinguish, in the conflict of the evidence which has come down to us about him, than that of almost any noticeable person in history. He was perhaps no worse than a fanatic. He was certainly prepared, if we may trust the words of a royal proclamation (and Henry was personally in- timate with Oldcastle, and otherwise was not likely to have exaggerated the charges against him), he was prepared to venture a rebellion, with the prospect of Mmself becoming the president of some possible Lollard commonwealth.* The King, with swift decisiveness, annihilated the incipient treason. Oldcastle was him- ■ self arrested. He escaped out of the Tower into Scotland ; and while Henry was absent in France he seems to have attempted to organize some kind of Scotch invasion ; but he was soon after again taken on the Welsh Border, tried and executed. An Act which was passed in 1414 de- scribed his proceedings as an ' attempt to destroy the King, and all other manner of estates of the realm, as well spiritual as temporal, and also all manner of poKcy, ' Hat. Pari. iv. 24, 108, apud Likgaru; Eymer, ix. 89, 119, 129, 170. 193 ; MnJlAN, vol. T. p. 520 — 535. 502' REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. and finally tlie laws of the land.' The sedition was held to have originated in heresy, and for the better repres- sion of such mischiefs in time to come, the lord chancellor, the judges, the justices of the peace, the sherifis, mayors, bailiffs, ajid every other officer having government of people, were sworn on entering their office to use their best power and diligence to detect and prosecute all per- sons suspected of so heinous a crime.* Thus perished Wycliffe's labour, — ^not wholly, be- cause his translation of the Bible still remained a rare treasure ; a seed of future life, which woxdd spring again under happier circumstances. But the sect whiph he organized, the special doctrines which he set himself to teach, after a brief blaze of success, sank into darkness ; and no trace remained of LoUardry except the black memory of contempt and hatred with which the heretics of the fourteenth century were remembered by the Eng- lish people, long after the actual Eeformation had becona.e the law of the land.^ ' 2 Hen. V. stat. i, cap. 7. ° There is no better test of the popular opinion of a, man than the character assigned to him on the stage ; and till the close of the six- teenth century Sir John Oldoastle remained the profligate buffoon of English icomedy. AVTiether in life he bore the character so assigiied to him, I am unable to say. The popularity 6f Henry Y., and the splendour of his French wars^ served no doubt to colour all who had op- posed him with a blacker shade than they deserved : but it is almost cer- tain that Shakspeare, though not intending Falstaff as a portrait of Oldcastle, thought of him as he was designing the character; and it is altogether certain that by the Lon- don public Falstaff was supposed to represent Oldcastle. "We can hardly suppose that such an expression as ' my old lad of the castle,' should be accidental; and in the epilogue to the Second Partof Senry the Fourth, when promising to reintroduce Fal- staff once more, Shakspeare says, ' where for anything I know he shall die of the sweat, for Oldcastle died a I4I4-] THE PROTESTANTS. 503 So poor a close to a movement of so fair promise was due partly to the agitated temper of the times ; partly, perhaps, to a want of judgment in Wycliffe ; but chiefly and essentially because it was an iintimely birth. Wyc- liffe saw the eyil ; he did not see the remedy ; and neither in his mind nor in the mind of the world about him, had the problem ripened itself for solution. England woidd 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 smoidder, exploding occasionally in insurrection,^ occasionally blazing up ia nobler form, when some poor seeker for the truth, grop- ing for a vision' of God in the darkness of the years which followed, found his way iuto that high presence through the martyr's fire. But substantially, the na- tion relapsed into obedience — the Church was reprieved for a century. Its fall was delayed tiU the spirit in which it was attacked was winnowed clean of all doubt- ful elements — until Protestantism had recommenced its martyr, and this is not the man.' He had, therefore, certainly heen supposed to J)e 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 re- cords which remain to throw light on the character of this remarkable person with elaborate care and abil- ity, concludes emphatically in his favour. ' Two curious letters of Henry VI. upon the Lollards, written in 1431, are printed in the Arclueologia, voL xxiii. p. 339, &c. 'As God knoweth,' he says of them, 'never would they be subject to his laws nor to man's, but would be loose and free to rob, reve, and dispoil, slay and destroy all men of thrift and worship, as they proposed to have done in our father's days; and of lads and lurdains would make lords.' 504 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. enterprise in a desire, not for a fairer adjustment of the world's good ttings, 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 the partial countenance of a Grovernment which was crossing swords with the Father of Catholic Christen- dom, and menacing the seyerance of England from the imity of the faith, but under a strong dynasty of un- doubted Catholic loyalty, with the entire administrative power, secular as weU as spiritual, in the hands of the episcopate. It sprung up spontaneously, unguided, un- excited, by the vital necessity of its nature, among the masses of the nation. Leaping over a century, I pass to the year T525, at which time, or about which time, a society was enrolled in London caUing itself ' The Association of Christian Brothers.' ^ It was composed of poor men, chiefly tradesmen, artisans, a few, a very few of the clergy ; but it was careftdly 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 harvest had been long ripening. The re- cords of the bishops' courts^ are filled from the begin- ' Proceedings of an organized Society in London called the Chris- tian Brethren, supported by volun- tary contributions, for the dispersion of tracts against the doctrines of the Church : Molls Souse MS. ' Hale's Frecederds. The Lon- don and Lincoln Registers, in FoxE, vol. iv. : and the MS. Eegisters of Archbishops Morton and Warham, at Lambeth. «S2S-] THE PROTESTANTS. 50s ning of the century with accounts of prosecutions for heresy — ^with prosecutions, that is, of men and women to whom the masses, the pUgrimages, the indulgences, the pardons, the effete paraphernalia of the establish- ment, had become intolerable; who had risen up in blind resistance, 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 prison, and victim after victim had been executed with more than necessary cruelty. But it was all in vara : punishment only multiplied offenders, 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 no books, no unity of conviction, only a confused refusal to believe in Hes. Copies of Wycliffe's Bible remained, which parties here and there, under death penalties if detected, met to read ; ^ copies, also, of some of his tracts' were extant ; but they were unprinted transcripts, most rare and precious, which the watchfulness of the police made it impossible to multiply through the press, and ' Knox's History of the Seform- ation in Scotland. ' Also we object to you that divers times, and specially in Eobert Dnrdant's house, of Iver Court, near unto Staines, you erroneously and damnably read in a great book of heresy, all [one] night, certain chapters of the Evangelists, in Eng- lish, containing in them divers er- roneous and damnable opinions and conclusions of heresy, in the presence of divers suspectedpersons. — ^Articles objected against Richard Butler — London Eegister : FoxE, vol. iv. p. 178. » FoxB, vol. iv. p. 176. 5o6 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. whicli remained therefore necessarily in the possession 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 gire them coherency as a party; and so they might have long continued, except for an impulse from some external circimistances. 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 of all Northern Europe. Wherever the Teutonic language was spoken, wherever the Teutonic nature was in the people, there was the same weariness of unreality, the same craving for a higher Hfe. England rather lagged behind than was a leader in the race of discontent. In Grermany, aR classes shared the common feeling; in England it was almost confined to the lowest. But, wherever it existed, it 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 of toleration, and which could be endured no longer. At such times the minds of men are like a train of gimpowder, the isolated grains of which have no relation to 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 explosion. Such a spark was kindled in Ger- many, at Wittenberg, on the 31st of October, 15 17. In the middle of that day Luther's denunciation of In- I5I7-] THE PROTESTANTS. 507 dulgences was fixed against the gate of AH Saints Chnrcli, Wittenberg, and it became, like tbe brazen ser- pent in the mldemess, tbe sign to which the sick spirits throughout the western world looked hopefully and were healed. In all those millions of hearts the words of Luther found an echo, and flew from lip to Hp, from ear to ear. The thing which all were longing for was done, and in two years from that day there was scarcely per- haps a village from the Irish Channel to the Danube in which the name of Luther was not familiar as a word of hope and promise. Then rose a common cry for guid- ance. Books were called for — above all things, the great book of all, the Bible. Luther's inexhaustible fecimdity flowed with a steady stream, and the printing presses in Germany and in the Free Towns of the Netherlands, multiplied Testaments and tracts in hun- dreds of thousands. Printers published at their own expense as Luther wrote. "^ The continent was covered with disfrocked monks who had become the pedlars of these precious wares ; ^ and as the contagion spread, noble young spirits from other countries, eag^r them- selves to fight in God's battle, came to Wittenberg to learn from the champion who had struck the first blow at their great enemy how to use their weapons. ' Stu- dents from all nations came to Wittenberg,' says one, 'to hear Luther and Melancthon. As they came in eight of the town they returned thanks to God with clasped hands ; for from Wittenberg, as heretofore from ' MiCHELET, Life of Lttther, p. 71. '^ Ibid. 3o8 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. Jerusalem, proceeded the light of evangelical truth, to spread thence to the utmost parts of the earth.' ^ Thi- ther came young Patrick Hamilton from Edinburgh, whose ' reek ' was of so much potency, a boy-enthusiast of nature as illustrious as his birth ; and thither came also from England, which is here our chief concern, "Wniiam Tyndal, a man whose history is lost in his work, and whose epitaph is the Reformation. Begin- ning Hfe as a restless Oxford student, he moved thence to Cambridge, thence to Gloucestershire, to be tutor in a knight's family, and there hearing of Luther's doings, and expressing himself with too warm approval to suit the clergy of the neighbourhood/ he was obliged to fly. From Grloucestershire he removed to London, where Outhbert TunstaU had lately been made bishop, and from whom he perhaps looked for countenance in an intention to trans- late the New Testament. Tunstall showed little en- couragement to this enterprise ; but a better friend rose where he was least looked for ; and a London alderman, Humfrey Monmouth by name, hearing the fiery yoimg enthusiast preach on some occasion at St Dunstan's, took him to his home for half a year, and kept him there : where ' the said Tyndal,' as the alderman declared, ' lived like a good priest, studying both night and day ; he would eat but sodden meat, by his good will, nor drink but small single beer ; nor was he ever seen to wear linen about him all the time of his being there.' ^ The half- year being passed, Monmouth gave him ten pounds, ' MiOHELET, Life of Luther, p. 41. 2 'Wood's Athencn Oxonienses. ^ Foxe, vol. iv. p. 618. IS2S-] Tim PROTESTANTS. S09 witli wMcli provision lie went off to Germany; and the alderman, for assisting In'Tti in that business, went to the Tower — escaping, howeyer, we are glad to know, without worse consequences than a short imprisonment. Tyndal saw Luther,' and under his direction translated the Gospels and Epistles. Thence he repaired to Cologne, where he began to print. Being alarmed by threats of seizure, he carried the haK-completed types to Worms, and there an edition of 3000 copies was finished and sent to England. * The suspicious eyes of the Bishops discorered Tyndal's visit, and the result which was to be ex- pected from it. On Dec. 2nd, 1525, Edward I.ee, afterwards Archbishop of York, then king's almoner, and on a mis- sion into Spain, wrote from Bor- deaux to warn Henry. The letter is instructive : ' Please your Highness to under- stand that I am certainly informed as I passed in this country, that an Englishman, your subject, at the solicitation and instance of Luther, with whom he is, hath translated the New Testament into English; and within few days intendeth to return with the same imprinted into England. I need not to advertise your Grace what infection and danger may ensue hereby if it be not with- standed. This is the next way to fulfil your realm with Lutherians. For all Luther's perverse opinions be grounded upon bare words of Scripture, not well taken, ne under- standed, which your Grace hath opened in sundry places of your royal book. All our forefathers, governors of the Church of England, hath with all diligence forbid and eschewed publication of English Bibles, as appeareth in constitutions provincial of the Church of England. Nowe, sire, as God hath endued your Grace with Christian courage to sett forth the standard against the Phil- istines and to vanquish them, so I doubt not hut that he will assist your Grace to prosecute and perform the same — that is, to undertread them that they shall not now lift up their heads ; which they endeavour by means of English Bibles. They know what hurt such books hath done in your realm in times past.' — Edward I^e to Henry VIII. : Ellis, third series, vol. ii. p. 71. Tyndal's visit to Luther has been questioned. Lee's words, however, are positive, and Foxe says no less distinctly, 'He went into Saxony, where he had conference with Luther and other learned men.' Sio; REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. After-wards lie settled at Antwerp, where, under stelter of the liberties of the city, he established a printiag press, and, assisted by Frith, composed a series of books which were to accomplish for the teaching of England what Luther and Melancthon were accomplish- ing for Germany. Such volumes as the people most required were multiplied as fast as the press could pro- duce 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 organ- ized association. It is well to pause and look for a moment at this small band of heroes ; for heroes they were, if ever men deserved the name. Unlike the first reformers who had followed Wyclifie, they had no earthly object, emphatic- ally none ; and equally unlike them, perhaps, because they had no earthly object, they were all, as I have said, poor men — either students, like 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 educated the difference between truth and lies. Wycliffe had royal dukes and noblemen for his sup- porters — 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 1525] THE PROTESTANTS. Sii masses of the people were indifferent to a cause which promised them no material advantage ; and the Com- mons 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 fallen in our time ; ' no chief priest, chief ruler, or learned Pharisee — not one. ' Truth it is that certain apostate friars and monks, lewd priests, bankrupt merchants, vagabonds and lewd idle fellows of corrupt nature, have embraced the abominable and erroneous opinions lately sprung ia Germany, and by them have been some seduced iu simplicity and ignor- ance. Against these, if judgment have been exercised 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 first Protestants in. the eyes of their superiors. On one side was wealth, rank, dignity, the weight of authority, the majority of nimibers, the prestige of centuries ; here too were the phantom legions of superstition and cowardice ; and here were all the worthier influences so pre-eminently 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 en- thusiasts, armed only with truth and fearlessness ; ' weak things of the world,' about to do battle in God's name ; 1 Answer of the BisLops : RoUs Souse MS. See cap. 3. 5 1 2 REIGN OF HENR Y THE EIGHTH. [ch. .6, and it was to be seen whether God or the world was the stronger. They were armed, I say, with the truth. It was that alone which could have given them Tictory in so unequal a struggle. They had returned to the essen- tial fountain of Hfe ; they re-asserted the principle which has lain at the root of all religions, whatever their name or outward form, which once burnt with divine lustre iu 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 opinions ; but the service of holiness, of purity, of obedience to the everlasting laws of duty. When we look through the writings of Latimer, the apostle of the English Reformation, when we read the depositions against the martyrs, and the Ksts of their crimes against the established faith, we find no opposite schemes of doctrine, no ' plans of salvation ; ' no positive system of theology which it was held a duty to beKeve ; these things were of later growth, when it became again necessary to clothe the living spirit in a perishable body. "We find only an efibrt to express again the old exhorta- tion of the Wise Man — ' Will you hear the beginning and the end of the whole matter? Fear God and keep his commandments, 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 I52S-] THE PROTESTANTS. 513 its surface. This, however, has not been given to us ; and perhaps it never ■will be given. As the soiil is clothed in flesh, and only thus is able to perform its functions in this earth, vrhere it is sent to live ; as the thought must find a word before it can pass from mind to mind; so every great truth seeks some body, some outward form, ia which to exhibit its powers. It appears in the world, and men lay hold of it, and represent it to themselves, in histories, in forms of words, in sacramental symbols ; and these things, which in their proper nature are but illustrations, stifien 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 Kfe ; and at once the old struggle begins to repeat itself 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 suggestive. By and by, as the mind passes into other phases, the meaning is forgotten ; the language becomes a dead language ; and the living robe of life becomes a winding-sheet of corruption. The form is represented as everythiag, the spirit as nothing ; obedience is dispensed with ; sin and religion arrange a compromise ; and, outward observ- ances, or technical inward emotions, are converted into jugglers' tricks, by which men are enabled to enjoy their pleasures and escape the penalties of wrong. Then such religion becomes no religion, but a falsehood ; and hon- ourable men turn away from it, and fall back in haste upon the naked elemental life. VOL. I. 33 SH REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. This, as I understaiid it, was the position of the early Protestants. They found the service of God buried ia a system where obedience was dissipated into Buperstition ; where sia 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 ia which, amidst all the trickery of the pardons, pilgrimages, indulgences, — double-faced as these iaventions are — wearing one meaning in the apologies of theologians, and quite another to the multi- tude who live and suffer under their iufluence, — ^one plain fact at least is visible. The people substantially learnt that aU. evils which could touch either their spirits or their bodies, might be escaped by means which resolved themselves, scarcely disguised, iato the payment of moneys. The superstition had Hngered long ; the time had come when it was to pass away. Those in whom some craving lingered for a Christian life turned to the heart of the matter, to the book which told them who Christ was, and what he was ; and iinding there that holy ex- ample 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 figure had once been seen — the object of all love, the pattern of all imitation — thenceforward neither form nor ceremopy should stand between them and their God. 1525.] THE PROTESTANTS. 515 Under much confusion of words and thouglits, con- fiision pardonable in all men, and most of aU 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 aU. men to know and believe. And therefore they were strong ; and therefore they at last conquered. Yet, if we think of it, no comm.on dariag was required in those who would stand out at such a time in defence of such a cause. The bishops might seize them on mere suspicion ; and the evidence of the most abandoned villauis sufficed for their conviction.' By the Act of Henry V., every officer, from the lord chancellor to the parish constable, was sworn to seek them out and destroy them; and both bishops and officials had shown no reluctance to execute their duty. Hunted like wild beasts from hiding-place to hiding- place ; decimated by the stake, with the certainty that however many years they might be reprieved, their own lives would close at last in the same fiery trial ; beset by informers, imprisoned, racked, and scourged; worst of all, haunted by their own infirmities, the flesh shrinking before the dread of a death of agony — thus it was that they struggled on ; earning for themselves martyrdom — for 2527-] THE PROTESTANTS. 525 he had only to improve upon it. He sought out all such young men as were given to Greek, Hebrew, and the polite Latia ;^ and in this visit met with so much encouragement, that the Christmas following he re- turned again, this time bringing with him treasures of forbidden books, imported by ' the Christian Brothers ; ' !New Testaments, tracts and volumes of 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 be identified ; and there he remained for several weeks, unsuspected by the University authorities, tiU. orders were sent by Wolsey to the Dean of Christchurch, for his arrest. Precise information was furnished at the same time respecting himself, his mission in Oxford, and his place of concealment.' The proctors were put upon the scent, and Tuesday, directed to take him : but one of them, Arthur ^®^- 1^' ' ' 1528. Cole, of Magdalen, by name, not from any sym- pathy with Garret's objects, as the sequel proved, but pro- bably from old acquaintance, for they were fellows at the same college, gave him information of his danger, and warned him to escape. His young friends, more alarmed for their com- panion than for themselves, held a meetiag instantly to decide what should be done ; and at this meeting was ' Dr London to Warham : Bolls Souse MS. • Eadley himself was one of the lingers at Christchurch. — Dr Lon- don to 'Warham : Soils Souse MS. ' Dr London to Warham : Sollt Souse MS. 526 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. Anthony Dalaber, an undergraduate of Alban Hall, and one of Clark's pupils, who will now tell the story of what followed. ' The Christmas before that time, I, Anthony Dala- ber, the scholar of Alban HaU., who had 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 occasion offered, it was thought good among the brethren (for so we did not only call one another, but were indeed one to another) that Master G-arret, changing his name, should be sent forth with my letters into Dorsetshire, to my brother, to serve him there for a time, until he might secretly convey hinaself from thence some whither over the sea. According hereunto I wrote my letters in all haste possible unto my brother, for Master Garret to be his curate ; but not declaring what he was indeed, for m.y brother was a rank Papist, and afterwards was the most mortal enemy that ever I had, for the Gospel's sake. 'So on "Wednesday (Feb. i8), in the morn- ing before Shrove- tide, Master Garret departed out of Oxford towards Dorsetshire, with my letter, for his new service.' The most important person being thus, as was sup- posed, safe from immediate danger, Dalaber was at leisure to think a little about himself; and supposing, naturally, that the matter would not end there, and that some change of residence might be of advantage for his 1528.] THE PROTESTANTS. 527 own security, lie moved off from Alban Hall (as under- graduates it seems were then at liberty to do) to Glou- cester College,^ under pretence that he desired to study civil law, for which no facilities 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 Saturday. 'Having set up my things handsomely,' he con- tinues, ' the 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 a very secret place to keep them safe in, because it was so dan- gerous to have any such books. And so, as I was diligently 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 ' On the site of the present Wor- cester College. It lay beyond the walls of the town, and was then some distance from it across the fields. "•' Christchnrch, where Dalaber occasionally sung in the quire. Vide infra. 528 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. yet I held my peace ; and straightway he knofeked again yet more fiercely ; and then I thought this : perad- venture it is somebody that hath need of me ; and there- fore I thought myself bound to do as I would be done unto ; and so, laying my book aside, I came to the door Friday, ^^^ opened it, and there was Master Garret, Feb. 20. as a man amazed, whom I thought to have been with ray brother, and one with him.' Grarret 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 Lincoln, and shut up in a room in the rector's house, where he had been left all day. In the afternoon the rector went to chapel, no one was •tu-ring about the college, and he had taken advantage Saturday ^^ *^® opportunity to slip the ''bolt of the Feb. 21. (Jqqj. and escape. He had a friend at Gloucester College, 'a monk who had bought books of him; ' and Gloucester lying on the outskirts of the town, he had hurried down there as the readiest place of shelter. The monk was out ; and as no time was to be lost. Garret asked the servant on the staircase to show him Dalaber's rooms. As soon as the door was opened, ' he said he was undone, for he was taken.' ' Thus he spake unadvisedly in the presence of the young man, who at once slipped down the stairs,' it was to be feared, on no good errand. ' Then I said to him,' Dalaber goes on, ' alas. Master Garret, by this your uncirciunspect coming here and 1528.] THE PROTESTANTS. 529 speaking so before the young man, you have disclosed yourself and utterly undone me. I asked him why he Avas not in Dorsetshire. 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. "With 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 de- sired me to give hitn a coat with sleeves, if I had any ;, and he told me that he would go into "Wales, and thence convey himself, if he might, into Germany. 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 Icaeeled 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 ia his journey, that he might well escape the danger of all his enemies, to the glory of His Holy Name, if His good pleasure and wiU. so were. And then we embraced and kissed the one the other, the tears so abundantly flowing out from both bur eyes, that we aU bewet both our faces, and scarcely for sorrow could we speak one to another. And so he departed from me, apparelled in my coat, being com- mitted unto the tuition of our Almighty and merciful, Father. ' When he was gone down the stairs from my cham-.' ber, I stralghtways did shut my chamber door, and went into my study ; and taking the New Testament in my VOL. I. S4 i3o ■REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6 hands, kneeled down on my knees, and witli many a deep sigh and salt tear, I did, witli mucli deliberation, read over the tenth chapter of St Matthew'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 1 Some part of whicli let us read with him. ' I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves ; be ye therefore wise as serpents and harm- less as doves. But beware of men, for they will deliver you up to the councils, and they will scourge you in their synagogues ; and ye shall be brought before governors and kings for my sake, for a testimony against them and the Grentiles. But when they deliver you up, take no thought how or what ye shall speak, for it shall be given you in that same hour what ye shall speak ; for it is not ye that speak, but the Spirit of your Father 'which speaketh in you. And the brother shall deliver up the brother to death; and the father the child; and the children shall rise up against their parents, and cause them to be put to death. And ye shall be hated of all men for my name's sake : but he that endurcth to the end shall be saved. ■Whosoever shall confess rae before men, him will I confess also before my Father which is in heaven. Whosoever shall deny me before men, him ■will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven. Think not that I am aime to send peace on earth ; I came not to send peace, but a sword. For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. And a man's foes shall be they of his own household. He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me. He that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. He that talceth not his cross and foUoweth after me is not worthy of me. He that findeth his life shall lose it, and he that loscth his life for my sake shall find it.' 152-.] THE PROTESTANTS. 53I Master Garret's gown and hood, and so, having put on my short gown, and shut my doors, I went towards Frideswide (Christchurch), to speak with that worthy martyr of God, Master Clark. But of purpose I went hy St Mary's church, to go first unto Corpus Christi College, to speak with Diet and TJdal, my faithful brethren and fellows in the Lord. By chance I met hy the way a brother of ours, one Master Eden, fellow 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 were there in their grey amices ; they were almost at Magnificat before I 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 musio were turned into sighing and musing. As I there stood, in Cometh Dr Cottisford,^ the commissary, as fest 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 sitting in his stall, and talked with him, very sorrowfully : what, I know aflt ; but whereof I might and did truly guess. I .' Eector of Lincoln. 532 REIGN OF HENRY TH& EIGHTH. [CH. 6, went aside from the choir door to see and hear more; The commissary and dean came out of the choir, won- derfully troubled as it seemed. About the middle of the church met them Dr London,^ puffing, blustering, and blowing like a hungry and greedy lion seeking his prey. They talked together awhile ; but the commis- sary was much blamed by them, insomuch that he wept for sorrow. ' The doctors departed, and sent abroad their serv- ants 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 escape. Then he sent for one Master Sunmer and Master Bets, fellows and canons there. In the mean time he gave me a very godly exhortation, 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 Sumner and Master Bets came, he caused me to declare again the whole matter to them 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 foimd 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 tliein, where they had provided meat and drink for us before my coming ; and when we had ended, Fitzjames would ' Warden of New College, ' The last prayer. IS28.] THE PROTESTANTS. 533 needs have me to lie that night with him in my old lodging at Alban's Hall. But small rest and little sleep took we both there that night.' The next day, which was Sunday, Dalaber Sunday, rose at five o'clock, and as soon as he could ■^^''- ^^• leave the Hall, hastened off to his rooms at Gloucester. The night had been wet and stormy, and his shoes and stockings were covered with mud. The college gates, when he reached them, were stiU. closed, an unusual thing at that hour ; and he walked up and down under the walls ia the bleak grey morniag, till the clock struck seven, 'much disquieted, his head full of forecasting cares,' but resolved, like a brave man, that come what would, he woTild accuse no one, and declare nothing but Vhat he saw was already known. The gates were at last opened; he went to his rooms, and for some time his key would not turn in the door, the lock having been meddled with. At length he succeeded ia entering, and found everything in confusion, his bed tossed and tum- bled, his study door open, and his clothes strewed about the floor. A monk who occupied the opposite rooms, hearing him return, came to him and said that the com- missary and the two proctors had been there looking for Garret. BUls and swords had been thrust through the bed-straw, and every comer of the room searched for him. Finding nothing, they had. left orders that Dala- ber, as soon as he returned, should appear before the prior of the students. ' This so troubled me,' Dalaber says, ' that I forgot to make clean my hose an4 shoes, and to shift me into 534 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. another gown ; and all bedirted as I was, I went to the said prior's chamter.' The prior asked him where he had slept that night. At Alban's Hall, he answered, with his old hedfellow, Fitzjames. The prior said he did not believe him, and asked if Garret 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 answered,' says Dalaber, 'that I knew not, unless he was gone to Woodstock ; he told me that he would go there, because one of the keepers had promised him a piece of venison to make merry with at Shrovetide. This tale I thought meetest, though it were nothing so.' ' ^ Dr Maitland, who has an in- different opinion of the early Pro- testants, especially on the point of veracity, brings forward this asser- tion of Dalaber as an illustration of what be considers their recklessness. It seems obvious, however, that a, falsehood of this kind is something different in kind from what we commonly mean by unveracity, and has no affinity with it. 1 do not see my way to a conclusion ; but I am satisfied that Dr Maitland's, stric- tures are unjust. If Garret was taken, he was in danger of a crueV death, and his escape could only be made possible by throwing the blood- hounds off the scent. A refusal to answer would not have been suffi- cient; and the general laws by which our . conduct is ordinarily to be directed, cannot be made so uni- versal IB their application as to meet all contingencies. It is a law that we may not strike or kill other men, but occasions rise in which we may innocently do both. I may kill a man in defence of my own life or ray friend's life, or even of my friend's property ; and surely the circumstances which dispense with obedience to one law may "dispense equally with obedience to another. If I may kill a man to prevent him from robbing my friend, why may 1 not deceive a man to save my friend from being barbarously murdered ? It is possible that the highest morality would forbid me to do either. I am unable to see why, if the first be permissible, the second should be a crime. Rahab of Jericho did the same thing which Dalaber did, and on that very ground was placed in the catalogue of saints. 1528.] THE PROTESTANTS. 53S At tMs moment the University beadle entered with two of the commissary's servants, bringing a message to the prior that he should repair at once to Lincohi, tak- ing Dalaber with him. ' I was brought into the chapel,' the latter continues, ' and there I found Dr Cottisford, commissary ; Dr Higdon, Dean of Cardinal's College ; and Dr London, Warden of New College ; standing to- gether at the altar. They called for chairs and sat 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 in- quiries : the clerk of the University, meanwhile, bring- ing 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 persuaded, ' partly by fair 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 of them all took upon him to do it. ' Then he asked me again, by my oath, where Master Garret was, and whither I had conveyed him. I said I had not conveyed him, nor yet wist where he was, nor whither he was gon*, except he was gone to Wood- S3^ REIGN. OF HENR Y THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6; stock, as I had before said. Surely, they said, I brought him some Avhither this m.orning, for they might well perceive by my foul shoes and dirty hosen that I had travelled mth 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 me where I was at evensong. I told them at Frideswide, and that I saw, first, Master Commissary, and then Master Doctor London, come thither to Master Dean. Doctor London and the Dean threatened me that if I would not tell the truth 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 all three together brought me up a long stairs, into a great chamber, over Master Commissary's chamber, wherein stood a great pair of very high stocks. Then Master Commissary asked me for my purse and girdle, and took away my money and my knives ; and then they put my legs into the stocks, and so locked me fast in them, in which I sat, my feet beiag almost as high as my head ; and so they departed, locking fast the door, and leaving me alone. ' When they were all gone, then came into my re- membrance the worthy forewarning and godly declar- ation of that most constant martyr of God, Master John Clark, who, well nigh two years before that, when I did ' A cell in the Tower, the nature of which we need not inquire into. 1528.] THE PROTESTANTS. 537 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 sweet and pleasant to you, because there is no persecution laid on you for it, yet the time will come, and that, perad- venture, shortly, if ye continue to liye 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 ab- horred of the world; your own friends and kinsfolk wiU 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 shame, to the great sorrow of all your friends and kinsfolk. Then will ye wish ye had never known this doctrine ; then wiU. 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 fell down on my knees at his feet, and with tears and sighs be- sought 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 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 Almighty grant you so to do ; and from henceforth for ever, take me for your father, and I will take you for my son in Christ.' ' 53S REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. In these meditations the long Sunday morning wore away. A little before noon the commissary came again to see if his prisoner was more amenable ; finding him, however, still obstinate, he offered him some dinner — a prom.ise which we will hope he fulfilled, for here Dala- ber's own narrative abruptly forsakes us,^ leaving un- completed, at this point, the most vivid picture which remains to us of a fraction of English life in the reign of Henry YIII. If the curtain fell finally on the little group of students, this narrative alone would furnish us with rare insight into the circumstances under which the Protestants fought their way. The story, howfever, can be carried something further, and the strangest incident connected with it remains to be told. Monday, Dalaber breaks off on Sunday at noon. Feb. 23. rpj^g same day, or early the following morning, he was submitted once more to examination : this time, for the discovery of his own offences, and to induce him to give up his confederates. "With respect to the latter he proved ' marvellous obstinate.' ' All that was gotten of him was with much difiiculty ; ' nor would he con- fess to any names as connected with heresy or heretics except that of Clark, which was already known. About himself he was more open. He wrote his 'book of heresy,' that is, his confession of faith, ' with his own 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.^ ' FOXE, vol. V. p. 421. * Dr London to the Bishop of Lincoln : Rolls Some MS. IS2S.] THE PROTESTANTS 539 This offender being thus disposed of, and strict secresy being observed to prevent the spread of alann, a rapid search was set on foot for books in all suspected quarters. The fear of the authorities was that ' the in- fect persons would flee,' and ' convey ' their poison ' away with them.' ^ The officials, once on the scent of heresy, were skilful in running down the game. Xo time was lost, and by Monday evening many of ' the brethren ' had been arrested, their rooms examined, and their forbidden treasures discovered and rifled. Dala- ber's store was found ' hid with marvellous secresy ; ' and in one student's desk a dupKcate of Garret's list — the titles of the volumes with which the first ' Re- ligious Tract Society' set themselves to convert Eng- land. Information of all this was conveyed in haste by Dr liOndon 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 satisfactory. Garret himself was gone — utterly gone. , Dalaber was obstinate, and no clue to the track of the fugitive could be discovered. The police were at fault ; neither bribes nor threats could elicit anything ; and in these desperate circumstances, as he told the Bishop, the three heads of houses conceived that they might strain a point of pro- priety for 80 good a purpose as to prevent the escape of a heretic. Accordingly, after a full report of the points Dr London to the Bishop of Lincoln : Holh Mouse MS. 54° REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. $. of their success, Doctor London -went on to relate the following remarkable proceeding : 'After Master Garret escaped, the commi&sary being in extreme pensiveness, knew no other remedy but this extra- ordinary, and caused a figure to be made by one expert in astronomy — and his judgment doth continually persist vpon this, that he fled in a tawny coat soidh-easticard, and is in the middle of London, and uill 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 astronomer, I thought it ex- pedient and my duty with all speed to ascertain your good lordship of all the premises ; that in time your lordship 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 oarrieth about, might be taken, to the salvation of his soul, opening of many privy heresies, and extinction of the same.' ^ Tuesday, We might much desire to know what the Feb. 24. }3igiiop's sensations were in reading this letter — to know whether it occurred to him that in this na'ive acknowledgment, the Oxford heresy hunters were them- selves confessing to an act of heresy ; and that by the law of the Church, which they were so eager to adminis- ter, they were liable to the same death which they were so zealous to secure for the poor vendors of Testaments, So indeed they really were. Consulting the stars had ' Dr Porman, rector of All Hnl- Iowa, who bad himself been in trouble for heterodoxy. ' Dr London to the Bishop of Lincoln, Feb. 20, 1528 : Holla House MS. 1528.] THE PROTESTANTS. 541 been ruled from immemorial time to be dealing with, the devil ; the penalty of it was the same as for witch- craft ; yet here was a reverend warden of a college con- sidering it his duty to write eagerly of a discovery ob- tained by these forbidden means, to his own diocesan, begging him to communicate with the Cardinal of York and the Bishop of London, that three of the highest Church authorities in England might become participes criminis, by acting on this diabolical information. Meanwhile, the commissary, not wholly relying on the astrologer, but resolving prudently to make use of the more earthly resources which were at his disposal, had sent information of Garret's escape to the corpora- tions of Dover, Eye, Winchester, Southampton, and Bristol, with descriptions 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 harboui-s 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 aist. 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,' ' Now Coketborpe Park, three miles from Stanton Haroourt, and about twelve from Oxford. The TUlage has disappeared. S42 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. whicli he had by some means contrived to procure, he set out again on his forlorn journey, makiag for the nearest sea-port, Bristol, where the police were looldng out to receive him. His choice of Bristol was pecidiarly unlucky. The ' chapman ' of the town was 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 commissary's circular ; and the family connection acting as a spur to his natural . activity, a coast guard had been set before Garret's arrival, to watch for him down the Avon banks, and along the Channel shore for fifteen miles. AH the Friday night ' the mayor, with the aldermen, and twenty of the council, had kept privy watch,' and searched sus- picious houses at Master Wilkyns's instance ; the whole population were on the alert, and when the next after- noon, 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 indefatig- able, had heard that a stranger had been seen in the street ; the police were set upon his track, and he was taken at Bedminster, a suburb on the opposite bank of the Avon, and hurried before a magistrate, where he at once acknowledged his identity. ' Vicar of AH Saints, Bristol, to the Keotor of Lincoln : Rolh Houst US. iS-Sa THE PROTESTANTS. 543 With such happy success were the good Saturday, chapman's efforts rewarded. Yet in this world ^^'°- ^^• there is no light without shadow ; no pleasure without its alloy. In imagination, Master Wilkyns had thought of himself conducting the prisoner in triumph into the streets of Oxford, the hero of the hoiu'. The sour form- ality of the law condemned him. to ill-merited disappoint- ment. Garret had been taken beyond the Kberties of the city ; it was necessary, therefore, to commit him to the county gaol, and he was sent to Ilchester. ' Master "Wilkyns offered himself to be bound to the said justice in three hundred pounds to discharge him of the said Garret, and to see him surely to 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 content himself with the consciousness of his exploit, and the favourable re- port 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 Testaments at Oxford, and therefore hunted down as a mad dog, and a common enemy of mankind. He escaped for the present the heaviest consequences, 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 ' The Yicar of All Saints to the Eector of Lincoln : HolU Souse MS. 544 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTI-T. IcH. 6. should die. In the mean time we return to the Uni- versity, where the authorities were busy trampling out the remains of the conilagration. Two days after his letter respecting the astrologer; the Warden of New College wrote again to the Diocesan, with an account of his further proceedings. He was an efficient inquisitor, and the secrets of the poor under-, graduates had been unravelled to the last thread. Some of ' the brethren ' had confessed ; aU were in prison ; and the doctor desired 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 leniently. Dalaber described him as a roaring lion, and he was a bad man, and came at last to a bad end. But it is plea- sant to find that even he, a mere blustering arrogant official, was not wholly without redeeming points of character ; and as little good will be said for him here- after, the following 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 remembered that he was addressing a person with whom tenderness for heresy was a crime. ' These youths,' he said, ' have not been long con- versant with Master Garret, nor have greatly perused ■ his mischievous books ; and long before Master Garret was taken, divers of them 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 1528.] THE PROTESTANTS. 545 never avoid slander, because my Lord's Grace did send for Master Garret to be taken. I suppose his Grace wUl know of your good lordship everything. Kothing 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 perceive, not greatly infect, but much to blame for read- ing any part of these works.' "■ Doctor London's intercession, if timid, was generous; 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 decision had rested with "Wolsey, it is likely that this view would have been readily 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 stag- gering 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 completeness of his barbarous career. He 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 handled thereafter.' * ' Dr London to the Bishop of Lincoln : Rolls House MS. ' Long extracts from it arc printed in FoxE, vol. iv. ' Another of the brethren, after- wards Bishop of St David's, and one , of the Marian victims. * Bishop of Lincoln to 'Wolsey, 545 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. 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 re- spited, 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 sent to the stake, had he not escaped by dying prematurely of the treatment which he had received in prison.^ His last words only are recorded. He was refused the communion, not per- haps as a special act of cruelty, but because the laws of the Church would not allow the holy thing to be pro- faned by the touch of a heretic. When he was told that it would not be suffered, he said ' crede et manducdsti ' — ' faith is the communion ; ' and so passed away ; a very noble person, so far as the surviving features of his cha- racter will let us judge ; one who, if his manhood had fulfilled the promise of his youth, would have taken no coninion part in the Reformation. The remaining brethren were then dispersed. Some were sent home to their friends — others, Anthony Dala- ber among them, were placed on their trial, and being terrified at their position, recanted, and were sentenced to do penance. Ferrars was brought to Oxford for the March 5, 1527-8 : Soils House MS. : and see Ellis, third series, vol. ii. P- 77- ' Ellis, third series, vol. ii. p. 77- 2 With some others he ' was cast into a prison where the salt-fish lay, through the stink whereof the most part of them were infected ; and the said Clark, heing a tender young man, died in the same prison.' — FoxE, vol. iv. p. 615. 1 528.] THE PROTESTANTS. 547 occasion, and we discern indistinctly (for the mere fact is all whicli 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 ofiending books, in token that they repented and renounced their errors. Thus was Oxford purged of heresy. The state of innocence which Dr London pathetically lamented ' 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 complete image of Wolsey's persecution, as with varying details it was carried out in every town and village from the Tweed to the Land's End. I dwell on the stories of individual suflPering, not to colour the narrative, or to re- awaken 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 Protest- antism is the history of its martyrs. No rival theology, as I have said, had as yet shaped itself into formulas. "We have not to trace any slow-growing elaboration of opinion. Protestantism, before it became an establish- ment, was a refusal to live any longer in a He. It was a faUmg back upon the undefined untheoretic rules of 1 London to 'Warham ; HolU House MS. 548 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. tnitli 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 evidences which were to effect the world's conversion were no cimningly arranged syllogistic 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 admiring reverence. In the concluding years of his administration Wolsey was embarrassed with the divorce. Difficulties were gathering round him, from the failure 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, continued, each in his own diocese, to act with such vigour as they possessed. Their courts were unceasingly occupied with vexatious suits, commenced without reason, and con- ducted without justice. They summoned arbitrarily as suspected offenders whoever had the misfortune to have provoked their dislike; either compelling them to criminate themselves by questions on the intricacies of theology,' or allowing sentence to be passed against Petition of the Commons, cap. 3. IS29-3 THE PROTESTANTS. 549 them on the evidence of abandoned persons, who would not have been admissible as witnesses before the secular tribunals.^ It might have been thought that the clear perception which was shown by the House of Commons of the in- justice with which the trials for heresy were conducted, the disregard, shameless and flagrant, of the provisions of the statutes under which the bishops were enabled to proceed, 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 themselves so signally 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 disposition to be lenient towards those who were really unorthodox. The desire so far was only to check the reckless and random accusations of persons whose offence was to have criticised, not the doctrine, but the moral conduct, of the Church authori- ties. The Protestants, although from the date of the meeting of the^ Parliament and "Wolsey's fall their ulti- mate triumph was certain, gained nothing in its im- mediate consequences. They suffered rather from the eagerness of the political reformers to clear themselves from compKcity with heterodoxy; and the bishops were even taunted with the spiritual dissensions of the ' Ibid. And, as we saw in tlie Bishops' reply, they considered their practice in these respects wholly de- fensible.- cap. 3. -See B,eply of the Bishops, 550 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH.- [CH. 6. rea]^ as an evidence of their indolence and misconduct.^ Language of this kind boded ill for the 'Christian Brethren ; ' and the choice of Wolsey's successor for the office of chancellor soon confirmed their apprehen- sions. "Wolsey had chastised them with whips ; Sir Thomas More would chastise them with scorpions ; and the philosopher 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 spirit of persecution is no peculiar attribute of the pedant, the bigot, or the fanatic, but may co-exist with the fairest graces of the human character. The lives of remarkable men usually illus- trate some emphatic truth. Sir Thomas More may be said to have lived to illustrate the necessary tendencies of Romanism in an honest mind convinced of its truth ; to show that the test of sincerity in a man who professes to regard orthodoxy as an essential of salvation, is not the readiness 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 entering office he was bound to exert himself to the utmost for the sup- pression of heretics •? he was bound, however, equally to obey the conditions under which the law allowed them to be suppressed. Unfortunately for his reputation as a judge, he permitted the hatred of ' that kind of men,' ' Petition of the Commons, cap. 3. 2 2 Hen. V. Stat. i. 1529] THE PROTESTANTS. 531 ■which he did not conceal that he felt, ^ to ohscure his conscience on this important feature of his duty, and tempt him to imitate the worst iaiquities of the bishops. I do not intend in this place to relate the stories of his cruelties in his house at Chelsea,^ which he himself par- tially denied, and which at least we may hope were ex- aggerated. Being obliged to confine myself to specific instances, I choose rather those on which the evidence is not open to question ; and which prove against More, not the zealous execution of a cruel law, for which we may not fairly hold him responsible, but a disregard, in the highest degree censurable, of his obligations as a judge. The Acts under which heretics were liable to punish- ment, were the 15th of the and of Henry lY., and the 1st of the 2nd of Henry Y. By the Act of Henry IV., the bishops were bound to bring ofienders to trial in open court, within three months of their arrest, if there were no lawful impedi- ment. If conviction followed, they might imprison at their discretion. Except under these conditions, they were not at liberty to imprison. By the Act of Henry V., a heretic, if he was first indicted before a secular judge, was to be delivered within ten days (or if possible, a shorter period) to the • He had been ' troublesome to heretics,' he said, and he had ' done it with a little ambition ; ' for ' he so hated this kind of men that he would be the sorest enemy that they could have, if they would not repent.' — Moke's lift of More., p. 21 1 . ' See FoxE, vol. iv. pp. 6S9, 698, 705. SS2 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. bishop, 'to be acquit or convict' by a jury in the spiritual court, and to be dealt with accordingly.' The secular judge might detain a heretic for ten days before delivering him to the bishop. The bishop might detain him. for three months before his trial. Neither the secular judge nor the bishop had power to inflict indefinite imprisonment at will while the trial was delayed ; nor if on the trial the bishop failed in securing a conviction, was he at Kberty 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 difiiculty in observing them himself, and in securing the observance of them by the bishops, at least in cases where he was himself respons- ible for the first committal. It is to be feared that he forgot that he was a judge in his eagerness to be a partisan, and permitted no punctilious legal scruples to interfere with the more important object of ensuring punishment to heretics. The first case which I shall mention is one in which the Bishop of London was principally guilty ; not, 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 instance of the Bishop of London,'^ arrested a citizen of London, Thomas Philips by name, on a charge of heresy. ' 2 Hen. Y. stat. i. ^ John Stokesley. IS29-] THE PROTESTANTS. SS3 The prisoner was surrended in due form to his 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 having used unorthodox expressions on transubstantiation, on purgatory, pilgrimages, and confession. It does not appear whether any witnesses were produced. The vicar-general brought his accusations on the ground of general rumour, and failed to maintain them. Whether there were witnesses or not, neither the particular offences, nor even the fact of the general rumour, could be proved to the satisfaction of the jury. Philips him- self encountered each separate charge with a specific denial, declaring that he neither was, nor ever had been, other than orthodox ; and the result of the trial was, that no conviction could be obtained. The prisoner ' was found so clear from aU manner of infamous slanders and suspicions, that all the people before the said Bishop, shouting in judgment as with one voice, openly wit- nessed his good name and fame, to the great reproof and shame of the said Bishop, if he had not been ashamed to be ashamed.' '^ The case had broken down ; the proceedings were over, and by law the accused per- son was free. But thef law, except when it was on their own side, was of little importance to the Church au- thorities. As they had failed to prove Philips guilty of heresy, they called upon him to confess his guilt by ' Petition of Thomas Philips to the House of Commons : ZolU Eomt MS. 554 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. 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, 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 fail- ure, concluded the process with an arbitrary sentence of excommunication. From this sentence, whether just or unjust, there was then no appeal, except to the Pope. The wretched man, in virtue of it, was no longer under the protection of the law, and was committed to the Tower, where he languished for three years, pro- testing, but protesting fruitlessly, against the tyranny which had crushed him, and clamouring for justice in the deaf ears of pedants who knew not what justice meant. 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, un- thought of ; the victim not of deliberate cruelty, but of that frightfullest portent, folly armed with power. Happily the years of his imprisonment had been years of swift revolution. The House of Commons had be- 1 Petition of Thomas Philips to the House of Commons : Rolls Rome MS. » FoxE, vol. T. pp. 29, 30. I530.] THE PROTESTANTS. 55S come a tribunal wliere oppression -would not any longer cry wholly unheard ; Philips appealed to it for protec- tion, and recovered his liberty.' The weight of guilt in this instance presses essen- tially on Stokesley ; yet a portion of the blame must be borne also by the chancellor, who first placed Philips in Stokesley's hands ; who took part in the illegal private examinations, and who could not have been ignorant of ^ The 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 Loudon should be subpoenaed to meet him. [Pe- tition of Thomas Philips : Holls House JKiS.] The Commons did not venture on so strong a measure ; but a digest of the petition was seat to the Upper House, that the Bishop might have an opportunity of reply. The Lords refused to receive or con- sider the case : they replied that it was too ' frivolous an affair ' for so grave an assembly, and that they could not discuss it. {Lords' Journals, vol. i. p. 66.] A deput- ation of the Commons then waited privately upon the Bishop, and being of course anxious to ascertain whether Philips had given a true version of what had passed, they begged him to give some written explanation of his conduct, which might be read in the Commons' House. ' {Lords' Journals, vol. i. p. 71.] The request was reasonable, and we cannot doubt that, if explanation had been pos- sible, the Bishop would not have failed to offer it ; but he preferred to shield himself behind the judg- ment of the Lords. The Lords, he said, had decided that the matter w.is too frivolous for their own con- sideration : and without their per- mission, he might not set a pre- cedent of responsibility to the Com- mons by answering their questions. This conduct met with the unanimous approval of the Peers. {Lords' Journals, vol. i. p. 71. , Omues proceres tam spirituales qnam temporales una voce dicebant, quod non oonsentaneum fuit aliquem pro- cerum prasdictorum alicui in eo loco responsuruntt] The demand for ex- planation was treated as a breach of privilege, and the Bishop was allowed to remain silent. But the time was passed for conduct of this kind to be allowed to triumph. If the Bishop could not or would not justify him- self, his victim might at least be re- leased fi-om unjust imprisonment. The case was referred to the King : and by the King and the House of Commons Philips was set at liberty. Jj6 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. the prisoner's ultimate fate. If, However, it be thought unjust to charge a good man's memory with an offence in which his part was only secondary, the foHowuig in- iquity was wholly and exclusively his own. I relate the story without comment in the address of the injured person to More's successor.^ ' To the Right Son. the Lord Chancellor of England {Sir T. Audeley) and other of the King's Council. ' In most humble wise showeth unto your goodness your poor bedeman John Field, how that the next morrow 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 bedeman, with certain others, to be brought to his place at Chelsea, and there kept him (after what manner and fashion it were now long to tell), by the space of eighteen days ; ^ and then set him at liberty, binding him to ap- pear 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 imtil Pahn Sunday two years after, [in violation of both the statutes,] kept so close the first quarter that his keeper only might visit him ; and always after closed up ^th those that were handled most straitly ; often searched, sometimes even at mid- night ; besides snares and traps laid to take him in. ' Petition of John Field : Rolls House MS. * Jan. 1529-30. 3 Illegal. See 2 Hen. V. stat. i. MSO.] THE PROTESTANTS. 557 Betwixt Michaelmas and Allhalloween tide next after his coming to prison there was taken from your tede- man a Greek vocabulary, price five shillings ; Saint Cyprian's works, with a book of the same Sir Thomas More's making, named the Supplication of Souk. For what cause it was done he committeth to the judgment of God, that seeth the souls of all persons. The said Palm Sunday, which was also our Lady's day, towards night there came two officers of the Fleet, named George Porter and John Butler, and took your bedeman into a ward alone, and there, after long searching, found his purse hanging at his girdle ; which they took, and shook out the money to the sum of ten shillings, which was sent him to buy such necessaries as he lacked, and deKvered him again his purse, well and truly keeping the money to themselves, as they said, for their fees ; and forthwith carried him from the Fleet (where he lost such poor bedding as he then had, and could never since get it), and delivered him to the Marshalsea, under our gracious sovereign's commandment and Sir Thomas More's. When the Sunday before the Rogation week following, your bedeman fell sick; and the Whitsun Monday was carried out on four men's backs, and de- livered to his friends to be recovered if it so pleased God. At which time the keeper took for your bedeman's fees other ten shillings, when four shillings should have sufficed if he had been delivered in good health. ' Within three weeks it pleased God to set your bede- man on his feet, so that he might walk abroad. Where- of when Sir Thomas More heard (who went out of his 558 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. cliaiicellorsliip about the time your bedeman was carried out of prison), although he had neither word nor deed which he could ever truly lay to your bedeman's charge, yet made he such means by the Bishops of "Winchester and London, as your bedeman heard say, to the Hon. Lord Thomas Duke of Norfolk, that he gave new com- mandment to the keeper of the Marshalsea to attach again your said bedeman ; which thing was speedily done the Sunday three weeks after his deliverance. And so he continued in prison again until Saint Lawrence tide following ; at which time money was given to the keeper, and some things he took which were not given, and then was your bedeman re-delivered through the King's goodness, under sureties bound in a certain sum, that he should appear the first day of the next term following, and then day by day until his dis- mission. And so hath your bedeman been at liberty now twelve months waiting daily from term to term, and nothing laid to his charge as before. ' Wherefore, the premises tenderly considered, and also your said bedeman's great poverty, he most humbly beseecheth your goodness that he may now be clearly discharged ; and if books, money, or other things seem to be taken or kept from him. otherwise than justice would, eftsoons he beseecheth you that ye will com- mand it to be restored. 'As for his long imprisonment, with other griefs thereto appertaining, he looketh not to have recompense of man ; but committeth his whole cause to God, to whom your bedeman shall daily pray, according as he IS30] THE PROTESrANTS. 559 is boimdj that ye may so order and govern the realm that it may be to the honour of God and your heavenly and everlasting reward.' I do not find the result of this petition, but as it ap- peared that Henry had iuterested himself in the story, it is likely to have been successful. We can form but an imperfect judgment on the merits of the case, for we have only the sufferer's ex parte complaint, and More might probably have been able to make some coimter- statement. But the illegal imprisonment cannot be explained away, and cannot be palliated ; and when a judge permits himself to commit an act of arbitrary tyranny, we argue from the known to the unknown, and refuse reasonably to give him credit for equity where he was so little careful of law. Yet a few years of misery ia a prison was but an iu- significant misfortune when compared with the fate under which so many other poor men were at this time overwhelmed. Under Wolsey's chancellorship the stake had been comparatively idle ; he possessed a remarkable power of making recantation easy ; and there is, I be- lieve, no instance in which an accused heretic was brought under his immediate cognizance, where he failed to arrange some terms by which submission was made possible. With Wolsey heresy was an error — ■ with More it was a crime. Soon after the seals changed hands the Smithfield fires recommenced ; and, the chan- cellor acting in concert with them, the bishops resolved to obliterate, in these edifying spectacles, the recollec- tion of their general infirmities. The crime of the S6o REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. offenders varied; — sometimes it was a denial of the cor- poral presence, more often it was a reflection too loud to be endured on the character and habits of the clergy ; but whatever it was, the alternative lay only between abjuration humiliating as ingenuity could make it, or a dreadful death. The "hearts of many failed them in the trial, and of aU the confessors those perhaps do not de- serve the least compassion whose weakness betrayed them, who sank and died broken-hearted. Of these silent sufferers history knows nothing. A few, unable to endure the misery of having, as they supposedj denied their Saviour, returned to the danger from which they had fled, and washed out their fall in martyrdom. Latimer has told us the story of his friend Bibiey — little Bilney, or Saint Bilney,' as he calls him, his com- panion at Cambridge, to whom he owed his own conver- sion. Bilney, after escaping through Wolsey's hands in 1527, was again cited in 1529 before the Bishop of London. Three times he refused to recant. He was offered a fourth and last chance. The temptation was too strong, and he fell. For two years he was hope- lessly 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 ; ' and began to preach in the fields. The journey which he had ' Seventh Sermon before King Edward. First Sermon before the Duchess of Suffolt. 1531] TlfE PROTESTANTS. 561 undertaken was not to be a long one. He was heard to say in a sermon, that of his personal knowledge cer- tain 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 Bihiey's heresy, or formed the ground of his arrest ; he was orthodox on the mass, and also on the power of the keys ; but the secrets of the sacred order were not to be betrayed with impunity. He was seized, and hurried before the Bishop of Norwich ; and being found heterodox on the Papacy and the mediation of the saints, by the Bishop of Nor- wich he was sent to the stake. Another instance of recovered courage, and of mar- tyrdom consequent upon it, is that of James Bainham, a barrister of the Middle Temple. This story is notice- able from a very curious circumstance connected with it. Bainham had challenged suspicion by marrying the widow of Simon Fish, the author of the famous Beggars' Petition, who had died in 1528 ; and, soon after his marriage, was challenged to give an account of his faith. He was charged with denying transubstantiation, with questioning the value of the confessional, and the power of the keys ; and the absence of authoritative Protestant dogma had left his mind free to expand to a yet larger belief. He had ventured to assert, that ' if a Turk, a ' FoxE, vol. iv. p. 649. 36 562 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. Jew, or a Saracen 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 him commenced with a demand that he should give up his books, and also the names of other barristers with whom he was suspected to have held intercourse. He refused ; and in consequence his wife was imprisoned, and he himself was racked in the Tower by order of Sir Thomas More. Enfeebled by suffering, he was then brought before Stokesley, and terrified by the cold mer- ciless eyes of his judge, he gave way, not about his friends, but about himself: he abjured, and was dis- m.issed heartbroken. This was on the seventeenth of February. He was only able to endure his wretched- ness for a month. At the end of it, he appeared, at a secret meeting of the Christian Brothers, in ' a ware- house in Bow Lane,' where he asked forgiveness of God and all the world for what he had done ; and then went out to take again upon his shoulders the heavy burden of the cross. The following Sunday, at the church of St Augus- tine, he rose in his seat with the fatal English Testa- ment in his hand, and ' declared openly, before all the people, with weeping tears, that he had denied God,' praying them all to forgive him, and beware of his weakness ; ' for if I should ilot return to the truth,' he said, ' this Word of God would damn me, body and soul, ' Articles against James Bainham : Foxe, vol. iv. p. 703 1532.] THE PROTESTANTS. 563 at the day of judgment.' And then lie prayed ' every- body rather to die than to do as he did, for he would not feel such a hell again as he did feel for all the world's good.'^ Of course but one event was to be looked for ; he knew it, and himself wrote to the Bishop, teUing him what he had done, l^o mercy was possible : he looked for none, and he found none. Yet perhaps he found what the wise authorities thought to be some act of mercy. They could not grant him pardon in this world upon any terms ; but they would not kiU him till they had made an effort for his soul. He was taken to the Bishop of London's coal cellar at Fulham, the favourite episcopal penance chamber, where he was ironed and put in the stocks ; and there was left for many days, in the chill March weather, to bethink himself. This failing to work con- viction, he was carried to Sir Thomas More's house at Chelsea, where for two nights he was chained to a post and whipped ; thence, again, he was taken back to Fulham for another week of torture ; and finally to the Tower, for a further fortnight, again with ineffectual whippings. The demands of charity were thus satisfied. The pious Bishop and the learned chancellor had exhausted their means of conversion ; they had discharged their consciences ; and the law was allowed to take its course. The prisoner was brought to trial on the 2,0th of April, ' FoxE, vol. iv. p. 70Z. 564 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. April 20, ^^ ^ relapsed heretic. Sentence followed ; and 1532- on the last of the month the drama closed in the usual manner at Smithfield. Before the fire was lighted Bainham made a farewell address to the people, laying his death expressly to More, whom he called his accuser and his judge.* It is unfortunately impossible to learn the feelings with which these dreadful scenes were witnessed by the people. There are stories which show that, in some instances, familiarity had produced the usual effect ; that the martyrdom of saints was at times of no more moment to an English crowd than the execution of ordinary felons — that it was a mere spectacle to the idle, the hardened, and the curious. On the other hand, it is certain that the behaviour of the sufferers was the ar- gument which at last converted the nation ; and an effect which in the end was so powerful with the multi- tude, must have been visible long before in the braver and better natures. The increasing number of prose- cutions in London shows, also, that the leaven was spreading. There were five executions in Smithfield between 1529 and 1533, besides those in the provinces. The prisons were crowded with offenders who had . abjured and were undergoing sentence ; and the list of those who were ' troubled ' in various ways is so exten- sive, 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. W? ' FoxE, vol. 17. p. 705. 1532] THE PROTESTANTS. 565 are left, in this important point, mainly to conjecture ; and if we were better furnished with evidence, the language of ordinary narrative would fail to convey any real notion of perplexed and various emotions. We have glimpses, however, into the inner world of men, here and there of strange interest ; and we must regret that they are so few. A poor boy at Cambridge, John Randall, of Christ's College, a relation of Foxe the martyrologist, destroyed himself in these years in religious desperation ; he was found in his study hanging by his girdle, before an open Bible, with his dead arm and finger stretched pitifuUy towards a passage on predestination.' A story even more remarkable is connected with Cainham's execution. Among the lay ofiicials present at the stake, was ' one Pavier/ town clerk of London. This Pavier was a Catholic fanatic, and as the flames were about to be kindled he burst out into violent and abusive language. The fire blazed up, and the dying sufferer, as the red flickering tongues licked the flesh from off his bones, turned to him and said, ' May God forgive thee, and shew more mercy than thou, angry reviler, shewest to me.' The scene was soon over ; the town clerk went home. A week after, one morning when his wife had gone to mass, he sent all his servants out of his house on one pretext or another, a single girl only being left, and he withdrew to a garret at the top of the house, which he used as an oratory. A large 1 Foxe, vol. iv. p. 694. S66 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. crucifix was on the wall, and the girl haying some question to ask, went to the room, and found him stand- ing before it ' bitterly weeping.' He told her to take his sword, which was rusty, and clean it. She went away, and left him ; when she returned, a little time after, he was hanging from a beam, dead. He was a singular person. Edward Hall, the historian, knew him, and had heard him say, that ' if the King put forth the New Testament in English, he would not live to bear it.'^ And yet he could not bear to see a heretic die. What was it ? Had the meaning of that awful figure hanging on the torturing cross suddenly revealed itself ? Had some inner voice asked him whether, in the prayer for his persecutors with which Christ had parted out of life, there might be some afiinity with words which had lately sounded in his own ears ? God, into whose hands he threw himself, self-condemned in his wretchedness, only knows the agony of that hour. Let the secret rest where it lies, and let us be thankful for ourselves that we live in a changed world. Thus, however, the struggle went forward ; a forlorn hope of saints led the way up the breach, and paved with their bodies a broad road into the new era ; and the nation the meanwhile was unconsciously waiting till the works of the enemy were won, and they could walk safely in and take possession. While men like Bilney and Bainham were teaching with words and writings, there were stout English hearts labouring also on the Hall, p. 806; and see FoxB, vol. iy. p. 705. 1552] THE PROTESTANTS. 567 practical side of tlie same conflict, instilling the same lessons, and meeting for themselves the same conse- quences. Speculative superstition was to he met with speculative denial. Practical idolatry required a rougher method of disenchantment. Every monastery, every parish church, had in those days its special reKos, its special images, its special something, to attract the interest of the people. The reverence for the remains of nohle and pious men, the dresses which they had worn, or the bodies in which their spirits had lived, was in itself a natural and pious emotion ; but it had been petrified into a dogma ; and like every other imaginative feeling which is submitted to that bad process, it had become a falsehood, a mere superstition, a substitute for piety, not a stimulus to it, and a perpetual occasion of fraud. The people brought offerings to the shrines where it was supposed that the rehcs were of greatest potency. The clergy, to secure the offerings, invented the relics, and invented the stories of the wonders which had been worked by them. The greatest exposure of these things took place at the visitation of the religious houses. In the mean time. Bishop Shaxton's unsavoury inventory of what passed under the name of relics in the diocese of Salisbury, will furnish an adequate notion of these objects of pop- ular 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 per- fect knowledge, stinking boots, mucky combes, ragged rochettes, rotten girdles, pyl'd purses, great bullocks' 568 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. horns, locks of hair, and filthy rags, gobbetts of wood, under the name of parcels of the holy cross, and such pelfry beyond estimation.'^ Besides matters of this kind, there were images of the Virgin or of the Saints ; above all, roods or crucifixes, of especial potency, the virtues of which had begun to grow uncertain, however, to sceptical Protestants ; and from doubt to denial, and from denial to passionate hatred, there were but a few brief steps. The most famous of the roods was that of Boxley in Kent, which used to smile and bow, or frown and shake its head, as its worshippers were generous or closehanded. The fortunes and misfortunes of this image I shall by and by have to relate. There was another, however, at Dovercourt, in Suflblk, of scarcely inferior fame. This image was of such power that the door of the church in which it stood was open at all hours to all comers; and no human hand could close it. Dovercourt therefore became a place of great and lu- crative pilgrimage, much resorted to by the neighbours on all occasions of difficulty. Now it happened that within the circuit of a few miles there lived four young men, to whom the virtues of the rood had become greatly questionable. If it could v^ork miracles, it must be capable, so they thought, of protecting its own substance ; and they agreed to apply a practical test which would determine the extent of its abilities. Accordingly (about the time of Bainham's first imprisonment), Robert King of Dedham, Robert ' Instructions ghen by the Bishop of Salisbury : Subnet's Collectanea, V- 493- 1532] THE PROTESTANTS. 569 Debenliam of Eastbergholt, Nicholas Marsh of Dedham, and Robert Gardiner of Dedham, 'their consciences being burdened to see the honour of Almighty God so blasphemed by such an idol,' started off ' on a wondrous goodly night ' in February, with hard frost and a clear full moon, ten miles across the wolds, to the church. The door was open, as the legend declared ; but nothing daunted, they entered bravely, and lifting down the ' idol ' from its shrine, with its coat and shoes, and the store of tapers which were kept for the services, they carried it on their shoulders for a quarter of a mile from the place where it had stood, ' without any resistance of the said idol.' There setting it on the ground, they struck a light, fastened the tapers to the body, and with the help of them, sacrilegiously burnt the image down to a heap of ashes ; the old dry wood ' blazing so brimly,' that it lighted them a full mile of their way home.^ For this night's performance, which, if the devil is the father of lies, was a stroke of honest work against him and his family, the world rewarded these men after the usual fashion. One of them, Robert Gardiner, escaped the search which was made, and disappeared till better times ; the remaining three were swinging in chains six months later on the scene of their exploit. Their fate was perhaps inevitable. Men who dare to be the first in great movements are ever self-immolated victims. But I suppose that it was better for them to be bleaching 1 From a letter of Kobert Gardiner : Foxe, vol. iy. p. 706. 570 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. on their gibUets, than crawling at the feet of a wooden rood, and helie'S'ing it to be God. These were the first Paladins of the Reformation ; the knights who slew the dragons and the enchanters, and made the earth habitable for common flesh and blood. They were rarely, as we have said, men of great ability, still more rarely men of ' wealth and station ; ' but men rather of clear senses and honest hearts. Tyn- dal was a remarkable person, and so Clark and Frith promised to become ; but the two last were cut off be- fore they had found scope to show themselves ; and Tyndal remaining abroad, lay outside the battle which was being fought in England, doing noble work, indeed, and ending as the rest ended, with earning a martyr's crown ; but taking no part in the actual struggle except with his pen. As yet but two men of the highest order of power were on the side of Protestantism — Latimer and Cromwell. Of them we have already said some- thing ; but the time was now fast coming when they were to step forward, pressed by circumstances which could no longer dispense with them, into scenes of far wider activity ; and the present seems a fitting occasion to give some closer account of their history. When the breach with the Pope was made irreparable, and the Papal party at home had assumed an attitude of sus- pended insurrection, the fortunes of the Protestants entered into a new phase. The persecution ceased ; and those who but lately were carrying fagots in the streets, or hiding for their lives, passed at once by a sudden IS32-] THE PROTESTANTS. ' 571 alternation into the sunshine of political favour. The summer was but a brief one, followed soon by returning winter ; but Cromwell and Latimer had together caught the moment as it went by ; and before it was over, a work had been done in England which, when it was accomplished once, was accomplished for ever. The conservative party recovered their power, and abused it as before ; but the chains of the nation were broken, and no craft of kings or priests or statesmen could weld the magic links again. It is a pity that of two persons to whom England owes so deep a debt, we can piece together such scanty biographies. I must attempt, however, to give some outline of the little which is known. The father of Latimer was a solid English yeoman, of Thurcaston, in Leicestershire. ' He had no lands of his own,' but he rented a farm ' of four pounds by the year,' on which ' he tilled so much as kept half a dozen men ; ' ' he had walk for a hundred sheep, and meadow ground for thirty cows.' ^ The world prospered with him ; he was able to save money for his son's education and his daughters' portions ; but he was freehanded and hospitable ; he kept open house for his poor neighbours ; and he was a good citizen, too, for ' he did find the King a liarness with himself and his horse,' ready to do battle for his country, if occasion called. His family were brought up ' in godliness and the fear of the Lord ;' and in all points the old Latimer seems to have been a ' Latimek's Sermons, p. loi. S72 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. worthy, sound, upright man, of the true English mettle. There were several children.^ The Reformer was born about 1490, some iive years after the usurper Richard had been killed at Bosworth. Bosworth being no great distance from Thurcaston, Latimer the father is likely to have been present in the battle, on one side or the other — the right side in those times it was no easy matter to choose — but he became a good servant of the new Government — and the little Hugh, when a boy of seven years old, helped to buckle ^ on his armour for him, ' when he went to Blackheath field.' ^ Being a soldier himself, the old gentleman was careful to give his sons, whatever else he gave them, a sound soldier's training. ' He was diligent,' says Latimer, ' to teach me to shoot with the bow : he taught me how to draw, how to lay my body in the bow — not to draw with strength of arm, as other nations do, but with the strength of the body. I had my bows bought me ac- cording to my age and strength ; as I increased in these, my bows were made bigger and bigger.'* Under this «ducation, and in the wholesome atmosphere of the farm- house, the boy prospered well ; and by and by, showing signs of promise, he was sent to school. When he was fourteen, the promises so far having been fulfilled, his father transferred him to Cambridge.* ' Latimer speaks of sons and daughters. — Sermons, p. loi. 2 Ibid. ' Where the Cornish rebels came to an end in 1497. — Bacon's Eis- tory of Henry the Seventh. • Latimeb's Sermons, p. 197. ' On which occasion, old rela- tions perhaps shook their heads, and made objection to the expense. Some THE PROTESTANTS. 573 He was soon known at the UniveraitT as a sober, hard-working student. At nineteen, he was elected fellow of Clare Hall ; at twenty, he took his degree, and became a student in divinity, when he accepted quietly, like a sensible man, the doctrines which he had been brought up to believe. At the time when Henry VIII. was writing against Luther, Latimer was fleshing his maiden sword in an attack upon Melancthon ; ^ and he remained, he said, till he was thirty, ' in darkness and the shadow of death.' About this time he became ac- quainted with Bilney, whom he calls ' the instrument whereby God called him to knowledge.' In Bilney, doubtless, he found a sound instructor; but a careful reader of his sermons will see traces of a teaching for which he was indebted to no human master. His deep- est knowledge was that which stole upon him uncon- sciously through the experience of Kfe and the world suoli feeling is indicated in the fol- lowing glimpse behind the veil of Latimer's private history : — ' I was once called to one of my kinsfolk,' he says ('it was at that time when I had taken my degree at Cambridge) ; I was called, I say, to one of my kinsfolk which was very sick, and died immediately after my coming. Now, there was an old cousin of mine, which, after the man was dead, gave me a wax candle in my hand, and commanded me to make certain crosses over him that was dead; for she thought the devil should run away by and by. 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, vrith great anger took the candle out of my hand, saying, ' It is pity that thy father spendeth so much money upon thee;' and so she took the candle, and crossed and blessed him ; BO that he was sure enough.' — Latimer's Sermons, 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 against Philip Melancthon and his opinions.' — Latimkb's Sermons, p. 334- 574 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [cii. 6. His words are like the clear impression lof a seal; tlie account and the result of observations, taken first hand, on the condition of the English men and women of his time, in all ranks and classes, from the palace to the prison. He shows large acquaintance with books ; with the Bible, most of all ; with patristic divinity and school divinity ; and history, sacred and profane : but if this had been all, he would not have been the Latimer of the Re- formation, and the Church of England would not, perhaps, have been here to-day. Like the physician, to whom a year of practical experience ina hospital teaches more than a life of closet study, Latimer learnt the mental disorders of his age in the age itself; and the secret of that art no other man, however good, however wise, could have taught him. He was not an echo, but a voice ; and he drew his thoughts fresh from the fountain — from the facts of the era in which God had placed him. He became early famous as a preacher at Cambridge, from the first, ' a seditious fellow,' as a noble lord called him in later life, highly troublesolne to unjust persons in authority. ' None, except the stiff-necked and uncir- cumcised, ever went away from his preaching, it was said, without being affected with high detestation of sin, and moved to all godJiness and virtue.' ^ And, in his audacious simpKcity, he addressed himself always to his individual hearers, giving his words a personal applica- tion, and often addressing men by name. This habit brought him first into difficulty in 1525. He was ' Jewel of Joy, p. 224 et seq. : Parker Society's edition. Latimer's Sermons, p. 3. 1S2S- THE PROTESTANTS. 575 preacliiiig before the University, when the Bishop of Ely came into the church, being curious to hear him. He paused till the Bishop was seated ; and when he 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 un- like those of his auditor. The Bishop complained to Wolsey, who sent for Latimer, and inquired what he had said. Latimer repeated the substance of his sermon ; and other conversation then followed, which showed "Wolsey very clearly the nature of the person with whom he was speaking. No eye saw more rapidly than the Cardinal's the difference* between a true man and an im- postor ; and he replied to the Bishop of Ely's accusations by granting the offender a license to preach in any church in England. ' If the Bishop of Ely cannot abide such doctrine as you have here repeated,' he said, ' you shall preach it to his beard, let him say what he will.' ' Thus fortified, Latimer pursued his way, careless of the University authorities, and probably defiant of them. He was still orthodox in points of theoretic belief. His mind was practical rather than speculative, and he was slow in arriving at conclusions which had no immediate bearing upon action. No charge could be fastened upon him, definitely criminal ; and he was too strong to be crushed by that compendious tyranny which treated as an act of heresy the exposure of. imposture or delin- quency. ' Latimee's Remains, pp. 27—31. 576 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [en. 6. On Wolsey's fall, however, lie would have certainly been silenced: if he had fallen into the hands of Sir Thomas More, he would have perhaps been prematurely sacrificed. But, fortunately, he found a fresh protector in the King. Henry heard of him, sent for him, and, Tvith instinctive recognition of his character, appointed him one of the royal chaplains. He now left Cam- bridge and removed to Windsor, but only to treat his royal patron as freely as he had treated the Cambridge doctors — not with any absence of respect, for he was most respectful, but with that highest respect which dares to speak unwelcome truth where the truth seems to be forgotten. He was made chaplain in 1530 — during the new persecution, for which Henry was re- sponsible by a more than tacit acquiescence. Latimer, with no authority but his own conscience, and the strong certainty that he was on God's side, threw himself between the spoilers and their prey, and wrote to the King, protesting against the injustice which was crush- ing 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 Q-od that your Grace may take heed of the worldly wisdom which is foolishness before God; that you may do that [which] God commandeth, and not that [which] seemeth good in your own sight, with- out the word of God ; that your Grace may be found acceptable in his sight, and one of the members of his Church ; and according to the office that he hath called your Grace unto, you may be found a faithful minister 1530] THE PROTESTANTS. 577 of his gifts, and not a defender of his faith : for he -will not have it defended by man or man's power, but by his ■word only, by the which he hath evermore defended it, and that by a way far above man's power or reason. 'Wherefore, gracious King, remember yourself; have pity upon your soul; and think that the day is even at hand when you shall give account for your office, and of the blood that hath been shed by your sword. In which day, that your Grace may stand steadfastly, and not be ashamed, but be clear and ready in your reckoning, and have (as they say) your quietus est sealed with the blood of our Saviour Christ, which only serveth at that day, is my daily prayer to Him that suffered death for our sins, which also prayeth to his Father for grace for us continually ; to whom be all honour and praise for ever. Amen. The Spirit of God preserve your Grace.'* These words, which conclude an address of almost unexampled grandeur, are unfortunately of no interest to us, except as illustrating the character of the priest who wrote them, and the King to whom they were Written. The hand of the persecutor was not stayed. The rack and the lash and the stake continued to claim their victims. So far it was labour in vain. But the letter remains, to speak for ever for the courage of Latimer ; and to speak something, too, for a prince that could respect the nobleness of the poor yeoman's son, who dared in such a cause to write to him as a man to ' Latimee's Eemains, pp. 308-9. VOL. 1. 37 578 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. a man. To Have written at all in such a strain was as brave a step as was ever deliberately ventured. Like most brave acts, it did not go unrewarded ; for Henry remaine.d ever after, however widely divided from him in opinion, his unshaken friend. In 153 1, the King gave him the Kving of West Kingston, in Wiltshire, where for a time he now retired. Yet it was but a partial rest. He had a special license as a preacher from Cambridge, which continued to him (with the King's express sanction) ^ the powers which he had received from Wolsey. He might preach in any diocese to which he was invited ; and the repose of a country parish could not be long allowed in such stormy times to Latimer. He had bad health, being troubled with headache, pleurisy, colic, stone ; his bodily constitution meeting feebly the demands which he was forced to make upon it.^ But he struggled on, travelling up and down, to London, to Kent, to Bristol, wherever oppor- tunity called him ; marked for destruction by the bishops, if he was betrayed into an imprudent word, and himself living 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 merchants,' iu the beginning of the winter of 153 1 ; and soon aftei ' Latimeb to Sir Edward Bayn- toa : Letters, p. 329. ''■ Letters, p. 323. ' Ho thought of goingf abroad. ' I have trust that God will help me,' he wrote to a friend ; ' if I had not, I think the ocean sea should have divided my Lord of London and me by this day.' — Memains, p. 334- * Latimer' to Sir Edward Bayii- ton. 1531-2] THE PROTESTANTS. 579 Lis return to his living, he was informed that he was to be cited before Stokesley. His friends in the neighbour- hood wrote to him, evidently in great alarm, and more anxious that he might clear himself, than expecting that he would be able to do so ; ^ he himself, indeed, had al- most made up his mind that the end was coming.'' The citation was delayed for a few weeks. It was issued at last, on the loth of January, 1531-2,^ and was served by Sir Walter Hungerford, of Farley.* The oifences with which he was charged were certain ' ex- cesses and irregularities ' not specially defined ; and the practice of the bishops in such cases was not to confine the prosecution to the acts committed ; but to draw up a series of articles, on which it was presumed that the or- thodoxy of the accused person was open to sus- picion, and to question him separately upon each. Latimer was first examined by Stokesley ; subse- quently -at various times by the bishops collectively ; and finally, when certain formulas had been submitted to him. ' See Latimer's two letters to Sir Edward Baynton : Semains, pp. 322—351. - ' As yc say, the matter is weighty, and ought substantially to be looked upon, even as weighty as my life is worth ; but how to look substantially upon it otherwise know not I, than to pray my Lord God, day and night, that, as he hath em- boldened me to preach his truth, so he will strengthen me to suifer for it. ' I pray you pardon me that I write no more distinctly, for my head is [so] out of frame, that it would be too painful for me to write it again. If I be not prevented shortly, I intend to make merry with my parishioners, this Christmas, for all the sorrow, lest perchance I never return to them again ; and I have heard say that a doe is as good in winter as a buck in summer.' — Latimer to Sir Edward Baynton, p. 334- 3 Latimek's Memaina, p. 334. * Ibid. p. 350. 580 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. which he refused to sign, his case was transferred to Convocation. The Convocation, as we know, were then in difficulty with their premunire ; they had consoled themselves in their sorrow with burning the body of Tracy ; and they would gladly have taken further com- fort by burning Latimer.^ He was submitted to the closest cross-questionings, in the hope that he would commit himself. They felt that he was the most dan- gerous person to them in the kingdom, and they labour- ed with unusual patience to ensure his conviction.^ With a common person they would have rapidly suc- ceeded. But Latimer was in no haste to be a martyr ; he would be martyred patiently when the time was come for martyrdom ; but he felt that no one ought ' to con- sent to die,' as long as he could honestly live ; ' and he baffled the episcopal inquisitors with their own weapons. He has left a most cui'ious account of one of his inter- views with them. ' I was once in examination,' he says,^ ' before five or ' ' I pray you, in God's name, what did you, so great fathers, so many, so long season, so oft as- sembled together ? What went you about .' What would ye have brought to pass ? Two things taken away — the one, that ye (which I heard) burned a dead man, — the other, that ye (which I felt) went about to burn one being alive. Take away these two noble acts, and there is nothing else left that ye went about that I know,' &c. &o; — Sermon preached before the Convocation : Latimek's Sermons, p. 46. ° ' My affair bad some bounds assigned to it by him who sent for me up, but is now protracted by in- tricate and wily examinations, as if it would never find a period ; while sometimes one person, sometimes another, ask me questions, without limit and without end.'^-Latimerto the Archbishop of Canterbury : Re- mains, p. 352. 3 Remains, p. 222. • Sermons, p. 294. IS31-2-] THE PROTESTANTS. SSi six bishops, where I had much turmoiling. Every week, thrice, I came to examination,- and many snares and traps were laid to get something. Now, God know- eth, I was ignorant of the law ; but that God gave me answer and wisdom what I should speak. It was God indeed, for else I had never escaped them. At the last, I was brought forth to be examined into a chamber hanged with arras, where I was before wont to be ex- amined, but now, at this time, the chamber was some- what altered : for whereas before 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 the chimney's end. There was among these bishops that examined me one with whom I had been very familiar, and took him for my great friend, an aged man, and he sat next the table end. Then, among all other questions, he put forth one, a very subtle and crafty one, and such one indeed as I could not think so great danger in. And when I would make answer, ' I pray you, Master Latimer,' said he, ' speak out ; I am very thick of hearing, and here be many that sit far off.' I marvelled at this, that I was bidden to speak out, and began to misdeem, and gave an ear to the chimney ; and, sir, there I heard a pen walking in the chimney, behind the cloth. They had appointed one there to write all mine answers ; for they made sure work that I should not start from them : ' The process lasted through January, February, and March. S82 REIGN OF HEmV THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. there was no starting from tliem : God was my good Lord, and gave mo answer; I coiild never else have escaped it. The question was this : ' Master Latimer, do you not think, on your conscience^ that you have been suspected of heresy ? '—a subtle question — a very subtle question. There was no holding of peace would serve. To hold my peace had been to grant myself faulty. To answer was every way full of danger. But God, which hath always given me answer, helped me, or else I could never have escaped it. Ostendite mihi numisma census. Shew me, said he, a penny of the tribute money. They laid snares to destroy him, but he overturneth them in their own traps.' * The bishops, however, were not men who were nice in their adherence to the laws ; and it would have gone ill with Latimer, notwithstanding his dialectic ability. He was excommunicated and imprisoned, and would soon have fallen into worse extremities ; but at the last moment he appealed to the Xing, and the King, who knew his value, would not allow him to be sacrificed. He had refused to subscribe 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 themselves with a general submission, which should be made to the Archbishop, without ex- acting more special acknowledgments. This was the ' Sermons, p. 294. ' He subscribed all except two — one apparently on the power of the Pope, the other I am unable to con- jecture. Compare the Articles them- selves — printed in Latimek's He- mains, p. 466 — with the Sermon before the Convocation. — Sermons, ■ p. 46 ; and BuKNET, vol, iii. p. 116. IS3I-2.] THE PROTESTANTS. 583 reward to Latimer for liis noble letter. He was absolved, and returned to his parish, though snatched as a brand out of the fire. Soon after, the tide turned, and the Reformation entered into a new phase. Such is a brief sketch of the life of Hugh Latimer, to the time when it blended with the broad stream of English history. With respect to the other very great man whom the exigencies of the State called to power simultaneously with him, our information is far less sa- tisfactory. Though our knowledge of Latimer's early story comes to us in fragments only, yet there are certain marks in it by which the outline can be determined with certainty. A cloud rests over the youth and early manhood of Thomas Cromwell, through which, only at intervals, we catch glimpses of authentic facts ; and these few fragments of reality seem rather to belong to a romance than to the actual life of a man. Cromwell, the malleus monachorum, was of good English family, belonging to the Cromwells of Liucoln- shire. One of these, probably a younger brother, moved up to London and conducted an iron-foundry, or other business of that description, at Putney. He married a lady of respectable connections, of whom we know only that she was sister of the wife of a gentleman in Derby- shire, but whose name does not appear.' The old Crom- well dying early, the widow was re-married to a cloth- merchant : and the child of the first husband, who made NicUolas Glossop to Cromwell : Ellis, third smes, vol. ii. p. 237. 584 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. himself so great a name in English story, met with the reputed fortune of a stepson, and became a vagabond in the wide world. The chart of his course -wholly fails us. One day in later life he shook by the hand an old bell-ringer at Sion House before a crowd of courtiers, and told them that ' this man's father had given him many a dinner in his necessities.' And a strange ran- dom account is given by Foxe of his having joined a party in an expedition to Rome to obtain a renewal from the Pope of certain immunities and indulgences for the town of Boston ; a story which derives some kind of credibility from its connection with Lincolnshire, but is full of incoherence and imlikelihood. Following still the popular legend, we find him in the autumn of 1515 a ragged .stripling at the door of Frescobaldi's banking-house in Florence^ begging for help. Fresco- baldi had an establishment in London,* with a large connection there ; and seeing an English face, and seem- ingly an honest one, he asked the boy who and what he was. ' T am, sir,' quoth he, ' of England, and my name is Thomas Cromwell ; rajr father is a poor man, and by occupation a cloth-shearer ; I am strayed from my country, and am, now come into Italy with the camp of Frenchmen that were overthrown at Garigliano, where I was page to a footman, carrying after him his pike and burganet.' Something in the boy's manner was said to have attracted the banker's interest ; he took him into his house, and after keeping him there as long ' ■Where he was known among tlie English of the day as Master Frisliyball. THE PROTESTANTS. ■>% 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 Foxe took it from Bandello, the novelist ; but it is confii-med by, or har- monizes with, a sketch of Cromwell's early life in a letter of Chappuys, the imperial ambassador, to Chan- cellor Granvelle. ' Master Cromwell,' wrote Chappuys in 1535, 'is the son of a poor blacksmith, who lived in a small village four miles from London, and is buried in a common grave in the parish churchyard. In his youth, for some offence, he was imprisoned, and had to leave the country. He went to Flanders, and thence to Rome and other places in Italy.' ^ Eeturning to England, he married the daughter of a woollen-dealer, and became a partner in the business, where he amassed or inherited a considerable fortune.' Circumstances afterwards brought him, while still young, ia contact with Wolsey, who discovered his merit, took him into service, and, in ^525, employed him in the most important work of visiting and breaking up the small monasteries, which the Pope had granted for the foundation of the new colleges. He was engaged with this business for two years, and was so efficient that he obtained an unpleasant notoriety, and complaiats of his conduct found their way to the King. Nothing came ' See Foxe, toI. t. p. 392. - Eustace Chappuys to Chancel- lor Granvelle : MS. Archiv. Brus- sels : Pilgrim, p. 106. 3 See Cromwell's will in an ap- pendix to this chapter. This docu- ment, lately found in the Eolls House, furnishes a clue at last to the connections of the Cromwell family. 586 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. of these complaints, however, and Cromwell remained with the Cardinal till his fall.^ It was then that the truly noble nature which was in him showed itself. He accompanied his master through his dreary confinement at Esher,^ doing all that man could do to soften the outward wretchedness of it ; and at the meeting of Parliament, in which he obtained a seat, he rendered him a still more gallant service. The Lords had passed a biU of impeachment against Wolsey, violent, vindictive, and malevolent. ' Are we to believe Foxe's story that Cromwell was with the Duke of Bourbon at the storming of Eome in May, 1527 .> See Foxe, vol. V. p. 365. He was with Wol- sey in January, 1527. See Ellis, third series, vol. ii. p. 1 1 7. And he was again with him early in 1528. Is it likely that he was in Italy on such an occasion in the interval ? Foxe speaks of it as one of the random exploits of Cromwell's youth, which is obviously untrue ; and the natural impression which we gather is, that he was confusing the Expe- dition of the Duke of Bourbon with some earlier campaign. On the other hand, Foxe's authority was Cranmer, who was likely to know the truth ; and it is not impossible that, in the critical state of Italian politics, the English Government might have desired to have some confidential agent in' the Duke of Bourbon's camp. Cromwell, with his knowledge of Italy and Italian, and his adventurous ability, was a likely man to have been sent on such an employment ; and the story gains additional probability from another legend about him, that he once saved the life of Sir John Russell, in some secret affair at Brtlogna. See Foxe, vol. v. p. 67. Now, although Sir John Russell had been in Italy several times before (he was at the battle of Pavia, and had been em- ployed in various diplomatic mis- sions), 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 mis- sion, in the months preceding the capture of Rome. —State Papers, vol. vi. p. 560, &c. The probabilities may pass for what they are worth till further discovery. - A damp, unfurnished house belonging to Wolsey, where he was ordered to remain till the Govern- ment had determined upon their course towards him. See Caven- I53I-2] THE PROTESTANTS. 5S7 It was to be submitted to the Commons, and Cromwell prepared to attempt an opposition. Cavendish has left a most characteristic description of his leaving Esher at this trying time. A cheerless November eveniag was closing in with rain and storm. "Wolsey was broken down -with sorrow and sickness ; and had been unusually tried by parting with his retinue, whom he had sent home, as unwilling to keep them attached any longer to his fallen fortunes. When they were all gone, ' Mj' lord,' says Cavendish, ' returned to his chamber, lament- ing the departure of his servants, making his moan unto Master Cromwell, who comforted him the best he could, and desired my lord to give him leave to go to London, where he would either make or mar before he came again, which was always his common sajdng. Then after long communication with my lord in secret, he departed, and took his horse and rode to London; at whose departing I was by, whom he bade farewell, and said, ye shall hear shortly of me, and if I speed well I will not fail to be here again within these two days.'' He did speed well. 'After two days he came again with a much pleasanter countenance, and meeting with me before he came to my lord, said unto me, that he had adventured to put in his foot where he trusted shortly to be better regarded or all were done.' He had stopped the progress of the impeachment in the Lower House, a id was answering the articles one by one. In the evening he rode down to Esher for instructions. In the ' Cavendish, pp. 269-70. 533 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [CH. 6. morning he was again at his place in Parliament ; and he conducted the defence so skilfully, that finally he threw out the bill, saved Wolsey, and himself ' grew -into such estimation in every man's opinion, for his honest behaviour in his master's cause, that he was esteemed the most faithfuUest servant, [and] was of all men greatly commended.' ' Henry admired his chivalry, and perhaps his talent. The loss of "VVolsey had left him without any very able man, unless we may consider Sir Thomas More such, upon his council, and he could not calculate on More for support in his anti-Roman policy ; he was glad, there- fore, to avail himself of the service of a man who had given so rare a proof of fidelity, and who had been trained by the ablest statesman of the age.^ To Wolsey Cromwell could render no more service ex- cept as a friend, and his warm friend he remained to the last. He became the King's secretary, representing the Government in the House of Commons, and was at once on the high road to power. If we please we may call him ambitious ; but an ambitious man would scarcely have pursued so refined a policy, or have calculated on the admiration which he gained by adhering to a fallen minister. He did not seek greatness — greatness rather sought him as the man in England most fit to bear it. 1 Cavendish, p. 276. " Cliappuys says, that a quarrel with Sir John Wallop first intro- duced Cromwell to Henry. Crom- well, ' not knowing how else to de- fend himself, contrived with pre- sents and entreaties to obtain an audience of the King, whom he pro- mised to make the richest sovereign that ever reigned in England.' — Chappuys to Granvelle : The Pil- grim, p. 107. THE PROTESTANTS. 589 His business was to prepare the measures wiicli were to be submitted to Parliament by tbe Government. His influence, therefore, grew necessarily with the rapidity with which events were ripening ; and when the con- clusive step was taken, and the King was married, the virtual conduct of the Reformation passed into his hands. His Protestant tendencies were unknown as yet, perhaps, even to his own conscience ; nor to the last could he ar- rive at any certain speculative convictions. He was drawn towards the Protestants as he rose into power by the integrity of his nature, which compelled him to trust only those on the sincerity of whose convictions he could depend. 59° APPENDIX TO CHAPTER VI. WILL OF THOMAS CROMWELL-— 1539. IN the name of God, Ajnen. The 12 th day of July, in the year of our Lord God MCCCCGXXIX., and in the 21st year of the reign of our Sovereign Lord, King Henry VIII., I, Thomas Cromwell, of London, Gentleman, heing whole in body and in good and perfect memory, lauded he the Holy Trinity, make, ordain, and declare this my present testament, containing my last wiU, in manner as following : — First I be- queath my soul to the great God of heaven, my Maker, Creator, and Eedeemer, beseeching the most glorious Virgin and blessed Lady Saint Mary the Virgin and Mother, with all the holy company of heaven, to be mediators and intercessors for me to the Holy Trinity, so that I may be able, when it shall please Al- mighty God to call me out of this miserable world and tran- sitory life, to inherit the kingdom of heaven amongst the number of good Christian people ; and whensoever I shall depart this present life I bequeath my body to be buried where it shall please God to ordain me to die, and to be or- dered after the discretion of mine executors undernamed. And for my goods which our Lord hath lent me in this world, I will shall be ordered and disposed in manner and form as hereafter shall ensue. First I give and bequeath unto my son Gregory Cromwell six hundred threescore sis pounds, thirteen shillings, and fourpence, of lawful money of England, with the which six hundred threescore six pounds, thirteen shillings, and fourpence, I will mine executors undernamed immediately or as soon as they conveniently may after my decease, shall purchase lands, tenements, and hereditaments to the clear IS29 1 WILL OF THOMAS CROMWELL. 591 yearly value of 33Z. 6s. 8d. by the year above all charges and reprises to the use of my said son Gregory, for term of his life ; and after the decease of the said Gregory to the heirs male of his body lawfully to be begotten, and for lack of hcire male of the body of the said Gregory, lawfully begotten, to the heirs general of his body lawfuUy begotten. And for lack of such heirs to the right heirs of me the said Thomas Cromwell, in fee. I will also that immediately and as soon as the said lands, tenements, arid hereditaments shall be so purchased after my death as is aforesaid by mine executors, that the yearly profits thereof shall be whoUy spent and employed in and about the education and finding honestly of my said son Gregory, in virtue, good learning, and manners, until such time as he shall come to the full age of 24 years. During which time I heartily desire and require my said executors to be good unto my said son Gregory, and to see he do lose no time, but to see him virtuously ordered and brought up ac- cording to my trust. Item. I give and bequeath to my said son Gregory, when he shall come to his full age of 24 years, two hundred pounds of lawful English money to order them as our Lord shall give liim grace and discretion, which 200Z. I wiU shall be put in surety to the intent the same may come to his hands at his said age of 24 years. Item. I give and bequeath to my said son Gregory of such household stuff as God hath lent me, three of my best featherbeds mth their bolsters ; 2nd, the best pair of blankets of fustian, my best coverlet of tapestry, and my quilt of yellow Turkey satin ; one pair of my best sheets, four pillows of down, with four pair of the best pillow- beres, four of my best tablecloths, four of my best towels, two dozen of my finest napkins, and two dozen of my other napkins, two garnish of my best vessel, three of my best brass pots, three of my best brass pans, two of my best kettles, two of my best spits, my best joined bed of Flanders work, with the best : and tester, and other the appurtenances thereto be- longing ; 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-gUt, my best salt gilt, my best cup gUt, three of my best goblets ; three other of my goblets parcel-gilt, twelve 592 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [cH. 6. of my Ijest silver spoons, three of my best drinking alepots gilt ; all the which parcels of plate and household stuff I -will shall he safely kept to the use of my said son Gregory till he shall come to his said full age of 24. And all the -which plate, household stuff, napery, and all other the premises, I ■vvill mine executors do put in safe keeping until my said son come to the said years or age of 24. And if he die before the age of 24, then I will all the said plate, vessel, and household stuff shall be sold by mine executors. And the money thereof coming to be given and equally divided amongst my poor kinsfolk, that is to say, amongst the children as well of mine own sisters Elizabeth and Katherine, as of my late wife's sister Joan, wife to John Williamson ; ' and if it happen that aU. the children of my said sisters and sister-in-law do die before the partition be made, and none of them be living, then I will that all the said plate, vessel, and household stuff shall be sold and given to other my poor kinsfolk then being in life, and other poor and indigent people, in deeds of charity for my soul, my father and mother their souls, and aU Chris- tian souls. < [2 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 40Z. toward her finding untU the time that she shall be of lawful age or be married, which 40?. I will shall be delivered to my friend John Cook, one of the six Clerks of the King's Chan- cery, to the intent he may order the same and cause the same to be employed in the best wise he can devise about the vir- tuous 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 so 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 hun- dred marks, and also so much of the said 40Z. as then shall be unspent, to be departed amongst my sisters' children, in manner and form aforesaid. And if it happen my said sister's children then to be all dead, then I will the said 100 marks ' Or Willyams. The words are used indifferently. * The clause englpsed between brackets is struck through. 1529.] WILL OF THOMAS CROMWELL. . 593 and so much, of the said 40?. as shall be unspent, shall be divided siniongst my kinsfolk, such as then shall be in life.] Item. I give and bequeath unto my sister Elizabeth Wellyfed 40Z., three goblets without a cover, a mazer, and a nut. Item, I give and bequeath to my nephew Eichaxd WiUyams [* ser- vant with my Lord Marquess Dorset, 66Z. 13s. 4(Z.], 40Z. ster- ling, my p fourth] best gown, doublet, and jacket. Item. I give and bequeath to my nephew Christopher "Wellyfed 40?., [' 20Z.] my fifth gown, doublet, and jacket. Item. I give and bequeath to my nephew "William Wellyfed the younger 20I., ['40Z.] Item. I give and bequeath to my niece Alice Wellyfed, to her marriage, 20Z. And if it happen her to die before marriage, then I will that the said 20Z. shall remain to her brother Christopher. And if it happen him to die, the same 20Z. to remain to Wm. Wellyfed the younger, his brother. And if it happen them all to die before their lawful age or mar- riage, 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 daughters] to Eichard WUlyams and Walter Wdlyams, my nephews. And if it happen them to die, then I will that all the. said parts shall be distributed in deeds of charity for my soul, my father's and mother's souls, and all Christian souls. Item. I give and bequeath to my mother-in-law Mercy Prior, 40Z. of lawful English money, and her chamber, with certain household stuff ; that is to say, a featherbed, a bolster, two piUows with their beres, sis pair of sheets, a pair of blankets, a garnish of vessel, two pots, two pans, irwo 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 win 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 Kttle salt of silver, a mazer, six silver spoons, and a drinking-pot of silver. And also I charge mine executors to be good unto her during her life. Item. I give and bequeath to my brother-in-law William Wellyfed, 20I., my third gown, jacket, and doublet. Item. I give and bequeath to John WUlyams my brother-in-law, 100 marks, a gown, a doublet, a jacket, a featherbed, a bolster, Struck through. 594 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. [ch. 6. six pair of sheets, two table-clbths, two dozen napkins, two towels, two brass pots, two brass pans, a silver pot, a nut parcel-gut j and to Joan, his wife, 40?. Item. I give and be- queath to Joan WiOyams, their daughter, to her niarriage, lol., and to every other of their children 12Z. 13s. 4^. Item. I bequeath to Walter WUlyams, my nephew, 20Z. 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 WhaUey, my servant, 6Z. 13s. \d. Item. I give and bequeath to Stephen Vaughan, sometime my servant, 100 marks, a gown, jacket, and doublet. Item. I give and bequeath to Page, my servant, otherwise called John De Fount, dl. 13;?. ifi. [ ' Item. I give and bequeath to Elizabeth Gregory, sometime my servant, 20Z., six pair of sheets, a featherbed, a pair of blankets, a coverlet, two table-cloths, one dozen napkins, two brass pots, two pans, two spits.] And also to Thomas Avery, my servant, 6Z. 13s. 4^ ['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 Eoger More, servant of the King's bake- house, 6Z. 13.S. ^d., three yards of satin; and to Maudelyn, his wife, 2)^. 6s. 8cZ.] Item. I give and bequeath to John Horwood, 61. 13s. 4fZ. [ ' 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 40Z. towards her exhibition and finding until such time she shall be of lawful age or be married, which 40Z. I wiU. shall be delivered to my brother-in-law, John WUlyams, to the in- tent he ma'"' order and cause the same to be employed in and about the virtuous education and bringing up of my said daughter, till she shall come to her lawful age or marriage. And if it happen my said daughter to die before she come to her lawful age or marriage, then I will that the said 100 tnarks, and so much of the said 40Z. as shall then be unspent and unemployed about the finding of my said daughter at the day of the death of my said daughter shall remain and be de- livered to Gregory my son, if he then shall happen to be in life ; and if he be dead, then the said 100 marks, and the said Struck through. 1529.] WILL OF THOMAS CROMWELL. S9S residue of the said 40/., to be evenly departed among my grown kinsfolk — that is to say, my sisters' children afore- said.] Item. That the rest of mine apparel before not given or bequeathed in this my testament and last wiU shall be given and equally departed amongst my servants after the order and discretion of mine executors. Item. I wiU 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 Middle- sex, 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 Eliza- beth, the profits of the said farm over and above the yearly rent to be kept to the use of my son Gregory tUl 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 shaU come to the age of 24 years, then I will my said cousin Eichard "WiUyams shaU have the farm with the appTirtenances 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 Eichard, to die before the accomplishment of this my wiU toucliing the said farm, then I will mine executors shall sell the said farm, and the money thereof coming to employ in deeds of charity, to pray for my soul and all Christian souls. Item. I will mine executors 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 after my death, and to give him for the same 61. 13s. 4c?. for his stipend. Item. I give and bequeath towards the maldng of highways in^his realm, where it shall be thought most necessary, 20Z., to be disposed by the discretion of mine executors. Item. I give and bequeath to every the five orders of Friars mthin the City of London, to pray for my soul, 20 shillings. Item. I give and bequeath to 60 poor maidens in marriage, 40Z., that is to say, 13s. 4^. to every of the said poor maidens, to be given and distributed by the discretion of mine executors. 596 REIGN OF HENRY THE EIGHTH.. [cH. 6. Item. I ■will tliat there shall be dealt and given after my de- cease amongst poor people liouseliolders, to pray for my soul, 20?., STich as % mine executors shall be thought most need- ful. Item. I give and bequeath to the poor parishioners of the parish where God shall ordaia me to have my dwelling- place at the time of my death, loZ., to be truly distributed amongst them by the discretion of mine executors. Item. I give and bequeath to my parish church for my tithes for- gotten, 2o shillings. Item. To the poor prisoners of New- gate, Ludgate, King's Bench, and Marshalsea, to be equally distributed amongst them, loZ. Willing, charging, and de- siring mine executors underwritten, that they shall see this my will performed in every point according to my true mean- ing and intent as they will answer to God, and discharge their consciences. The residue of all my goods, chattels, and debts not bequeathed, my funeral and burial performed, which I wUl shall be done without any .earthly pomp, and my debts paid, I wiU shall be sold, and the money thereof coming to be distributed in works of charity and pity, after the good discretion of mine executors undernamed. Whom I make and ordain, Stephen Vaughan, Ealph Sadler, my servants, and John WiUyams my brother-in-law. Praying and desiring the same mine executors to be good unto my son Gregory, and to aU other my poor friends and kinsfolli and servants afore- named in this my testament. And of this my present testa- ment and last will I make Eoger More mine overseer ; ,unto whom and also to every of the other mine executors I give alid bequeath bl. 13s. 4d for their pains to be taken in the execution of this my last wUl and testament, over and above such legacies as herebefore I have bequeathed them in this same testament and will. In witness whereof, to this my present testament and last will I have set to my hand in every leaf contained in this book, the day and year before limited. Thomas Cromwell. Item. I give and bequeath to WiHiam Brabazon, my servant, 20Z, 8«., a gun, a doublet, a jacket, and my second gelding. It. To John Avery, Yeoman of the Bedchamber with the. King's Highness, 6?. 13s. /\d., and a doublet of satin. IS29.] WILL OF THOMAS CROMWELL. 597 It. to Thttrston, my cook, 6Z. 13s. ^d. It. to "WilKam Body, my servant, 6Z. 13s. 4c?. It. to Peter Mewtas, my servant, 6Z. 13s. ^d. It. to Eic. Sleysh, my servant, 6Z. 13s. i^. It. to George Wilkinson, my servant, 6Z. 13s. i^d. It. to my friend, Tkomas Alvard, loZ., and my best gelding. It. to my Mend, Thomas Eush, 10?. It. to my servant, John Hynde, my horsekeeper, 3?. 6s. %d. Item. I will that mine executors shall safely keep the patent of the manor of Ronmey to the use of my son Gregory, and the money growing thereof, till he shall come to his lawful age, to be yearly received to the use of my said son, and the whole revenue thereof coming to be truly paid unto him at such time as he shall come to the age of 24 years. END OF VOL. 1. JOHN CHILDS AKD SON, PRINTERS.