Foxe's Book of Martyrs-- Part  Two

sented to them; for the enemies of Ricci had affirmed the halls in which the ceremonies 
were performed to be temples, and the ceremonies them- selves the sacrifice to 
idols. The sentence was sent over to China, where it was received with great contempt, 
and matters remained in the same state for some time. At length a true representation 
was sent over, explaining that the Chinese customs and ceremonies alluded to were 
entirely free from idolatry, being merely political, and tending only the peace 
and welfare of the empire. The pope finding that he had not weighed the affair 
with due consideration, sought to extricate himself from the difficulty in which 
he had been so precipitately entangled; he therefore referred the affair to the 
inquisition, which immediately reversed the sentence, at the desire of the pope. 
The christian church, notwithstanding these divisions, flourished in China till 
the death of the first Tartar emperor, whose successor was a minor. During the 
minor- ity of the young emperor Cang-hi, the regents and nobles conspired to crush 
the christian religion. The execution of this design was accord- ingly begun with 
expedition, and carried on with severity, so that every christian teacher in China, 
as well as those who professed the faith, were surprised at the suddenness of 
the event. John Adam Schall, a German ecclesiastic, and one of the principals 
of the mission, was thrown into a dungeon in the year 1664, but narrowly escaped 
with his life, being then in the seventy-fourth year of his age. In 1665, the 
ensuing year, the ministers of state publicly and unanimously resolved and decreed 
- That the christian doctrines were false. That they were dangerous to the interest 
of the empire. That they should not be prac- tised under pain of death. The result 
of this decree was a most furious persecution, in which some christians were put 
to death, many ruined, and all in some manner oppressed. Previous to this the 
christians had partially suffered; but the degree being general, persecution now 
spread its ravages over the whole empire wherever its objects were scattered, 
and a single christian convert could be traced. Four years after the young emperor 
was declared of age, and took the reins of government upon himself; and one of 
the first acts of his reign was to stop this perse- cution, though his attachment 
to christianity was more than doubtful. Page 238 ACCOUNT OF PERSECUTION IN 
JAPAN. The first introduction of christianity into the idolatrous empire of 
Japan took place in the year 1552, when some Portuguese missionaries commenced 
their endeavours to make converts to the truth of the gospel, and met with a degree 
of success that amply compensated their labours. They continued to augment the 
number of their proselytes till the year 1616, when being accused of having concerned 
themselves in politics, and formed a plan to subvert the government and dethrone 
the emperor, great jealousies arose and prevailed till 1622, when the court commenced 
a dreadful persecution against both foreign and native Christians. Such was the 
rage of this persecution, that during the first four years upwards of ten thousand 
victims were offered up to the demon of the most cruel superstition that ever 
degraded and oppressed the world. Death was the consequence of a single avowal 
of christianity, and all christian churches were shut up by order of government. 
Many, on a discovery of their religion by spies and informers, suffered martyrdom 
with great heroism. The persecution continued several years, when the remnant 
of the Christians with which Japan abounded, retired to the town and castle of 
Siniabara, in the island of Xinio, where they determined to make a stand, to continue 
in their faith, and to defend themselves to the very last extremity. To this place 
the Japanese army followed them, and laid siege to the fortress. The Christians 
defended themselves with great bravery, and held out against the besiegers three 
months; but were at length compelled to surrender, when men, women, and children, 
were indiscriminately murdered. This event took place on the 12th of April, 1638, 
since which few Christians except the Dutch have been allowed to land in the empire, 
and even they are obliged to conduct themselves with the greatest caution, and 
to carry on their commerce, and especially observe their religion, with the utmost 
About the end of the fifteenth century, some Portuguese missionaries made a voyage 
to Abyssinia, and began to propagate the Roman catholic doctrines among the people 
of that interesting country, many of whom already professed the tenets and ceremonies 
of a purer christianity. Page 239 The priests gained such influence at court, 
that the emperor consented to abolish the established rites of the Ethiopian church, 
and to admit those of Rome; and soon after consented to receive a patriarch from 
the pope, and to acknowledge his supremacy. This innovation, however, did not 
take place without great opposition. Several of the most powerful lords, and a 
majority of the people who professed the primitive chris- tianity, as at first 
established in Abyssinia, took up arms in their defence against the emperor. Thus, 
by the artifices of the court of Rome and its emissaries, the whole empire was 
thrown into commotion, and a war commenced which was carried on through the reign 
of many emperors, and which ceased not for above a century and a half. All this 
time the Roman catholics were strengthened by the power of the court, by means 
of which conjunction the primitive Christians of Abyssinia were severely persecuted, 
and multitudes perished by the hands of their inhuman ene- mies. There is a striking 
contrast between the persecution in Abyssinia and those in Japan, which the careful 
reader will on no account over- look. In Japan they were catholics who were the 
victims of pagan cruel- ty, and suffered under a superstition more gross and cruel 
than their own. But in Abyssinia the catholics were, as in most other instances 
which have been detailed, the aggressors; and a purer class of chris- tians than 
themselves were the sufferers from their malice an policy, their jealousy and 
barbarity. When we witness the unrelenting and almost universal propensity of 
catholics to persecute whatever classes of christians may chance to choose to 
differ from them, we scarcely feel regret that they sometimes are made to drink 
of the bitter cup they force into the hands of others. A general lesson is, however, 
here taught to all - that in proportion as worldly and selfish maxims mingle themselves 
with religion, will that religion be perverted to an engine of mischief and misery 
IN TURKEY. The arch impostor Mahomet in his early career affected to respect 
the Christians. But no sooner was his power established, than he displayed himself 
in his true colours as their determined and sanguinary enemy. This he proved by 
his persecution of them in his life-time, and by commanding that persecution to 
be continued by his deluded followers, Page 240 in his Alcoran, particularly in 
that part entitled, "The Chapter of the Sword." From him the Turks received their 
religion, which they still maintain. Mahomet and his descendants, in the space 
of thirty years, subdued Arabia, Palestine, Phoenicia, Syria, Egypt, and Persia. 
They soon, however, broke into divisions and wars amongst themselves. But the 
princes of the Saracens, assuming the title of sultan, continued their rule over 
Syria, Egypt, and Africa, for the space of about 400 years, when the Saracen king 
of Persia commenced war against the Saracen sultan of Babylon, and the latter 
brought to his aid the Turks. These feeling their own strength, soon turned their 
arms against their masters, and by the valour of Ottomanus, from whom are descended 
the present family who fill the Turkish throne, they soon subdued them and established 
their empire. Constantinople, after having been for many ages an imperial christian 
city, was invested in the year 1453, by the Turks under Maho- met the second, 
the ninth of the Ottoman race, and who, before his death, subdued all Greece. 
His army consisted of 300,000 men, and after a bloody siege of six weeks, it fell 
into the hands of the infidels; and the Turks have, to this day, retained possession 
of it. About fifteen years before this event took place, the city had yielded 
the liberties of its church to the pope of Rome. A manifest want of patriotism 
was evinced in the inhabitants, who, instead of bringing forth their treas- ures 
to the public service and defence of the place, buried them in vast heaps; insomuch 
that when Mahomet, suspecting the case, commanded the earth to be dug up. Finding 
immense hoards, he exclaimed, "How was it that this place lacked ammunition and 
fortification amongst such abun- dance of riches?" The Turks in plundering found 
a crucifix, in the high temple of Sophia, on the head of which they wrote, "This 
is the God of the Christians," and then carried it by the sound of a trumpet round 
the city, and exposed it to the contempt of the soldiers, every one of whom was 
commanded to spit upon it. They no sooner found themselves masters of the city 
than they began to exercise on its inhabitants the most unremitting barbarities, 
destroying them by every method of ingenious cruelty. Three days and nights was 
the city given to spoil, when the soldiers were licensed to commit any enormity. 
The body of the emperor being found among the slain, Mahomet commanded his head 
to be struck on a spear, and carried round the city for the mockery of the soldiers. 
The savage emperor of the Turks, every day before he rose from his dinner, had 
300 nobles slain before his face, and so continued till they were all killed, 
while he gave up the rest of the inhabitants to the brutal lusts of his troops. 
Page 241 About the year 1521, Solyman the first took Belgrade from the Chris- 
tians. Two years after, with a fleet of 450 ships, and an army of 300,000 men, 
he attacked Rhodes, then defended by the knights of Jerusa- lem. These heroes 
resisted the infidels till all their buildings were levelled with the ground, 
their provisions exhausted, and their ammuni- tion spent, when finding no succours 
from Christian princes, they sur- rendered, the siege having lasted about six 
months, in which the Turks suffered prodigiously, no less than 30,000 of them 
having died by a bloody flux. After this Solyman retook Buda from the Christians, 
in which place he let loose the reins of cruelty. The inhabitants were cruelly 
maimed and mutilated; women as well as men suffered the greatest indignity and 
misery, and even children were cast out into the deserts to starve and perish! 
Mad with conquest, Solyman now proceeded westward to Vienna, glutting himself 
with slaughter on his march, and vainly hoping in a short time to lay all Europe 
at his feet, and to banish christianity from the earth. Having pitched his tent 
before the walls of the city, he sent three christian prisoners to terrify the 
citizens with an account of the strength of his army, while many more, whom he 
had taken in his march, he had torn asunder by horses. Happily for the Germans, 
three days only before the arrival of the Turks, the earl palatine Frederic, to 
whom was assigned the defence of Vienna, had entered it with 14,000 chosen veterans, 
besides a considerable body of horse. Solyman sent a summons for the city to surrender; 
but the Germans defying him, he instantly commenced the seige. It has before been 
ob- served that the religion of Mahomet promises to all soldiers who die in battle, 
whatever be their crimes, immediate admission to the joys of paradise. Hence arises 
that fierce temerity they usually display in fighting. They began with a most 
tremendous cannonade, and made many attempts to take the city by assault; but 
the steady valour of the Germans was superior to their enemies. Solyman, filled 
with indignation at this unusual check to his fortune, determined to exert every 
power to effect his project: to this end he planted his ordnance before the king's 
gate, and battered it with such violence that a breach was soon made; whereon 
the Turks, under cover of the smoke, poured in torrents into the city, and the 
soldiers began to give up all for lost. But the officers, with admirable presence 
of mind, causing great acclamations to be made in the city, as if fresh troops 
had just arrived, their garrison was inspired with fresh courage, while the Turks 
being seized with a panic, precipitately fled, and in the rush to escape overthrew 
each other, by which means the city was saved from destruction. Grown desp- erate 
by resistance, Solyman resolved upon another attempt, by undermin- ing the Corinthian 
gate. Accordingly he set his Illyrians to work, who were expert at this mode of 
warfare. They succeeded in reaching under ground to the foundations of the tower; 
but being discovered by the wary citizens, they, with amazing activity and diligence, 
countermined them; and having prepared a train of gunpowder, even to the trenches 
of the enemy, they set fire to it, and by that means rendered abortive their attempts, 
and blew up about 8000 of them, a large majority of whom were destroyed. Foiled 
in every attempt, the courage of the Turkish chief Page 242 degenerated into madness: 
he ordered his men to scale the walls, in which attempt they were destroyed by 
thousands, their very numbers serving to their own defeat, till, at length, the 
valour of his troops fainted; and, dreading the hardihood of their European adversaries, 
they began to refuse obedience. Sickness also seized their camp, and numbers perished 
from famine; for German vigilance had found means to cut off their supplies. Captain 
Rogendorffius, a brave and generous soldier, had in a sally slain about 5000 Turks 
whom he had perceived from the walls estranged from the camp. Foiled in every 
attempt, dispirited in his prospects, Solyman at length, after having lost above 
80,000 men, resolved to abandon his enterprise. He accordingly put his resolve 
in execution, and, sending his baggage before him, proceeded homewards with the 
utmost expedition, thus freeing Europe from the impending terror of universal 
STATES  OF BARBARY. The Georgians are Christians, and being remarkable 
for their beauty, the Turks and Persians strove to enslave them by the most ingenious 
and cruel methods. Instead of taking money for their taxations, they com- pelled 
them to deliver up their children for the following motives:- the females for 
concubines in the seraglios, as maids of honour to sultanas, to be ladies of bashaws, 
or sold to merchants of different nations, who proportioned their price according 
to the beauty of the devoted fair; the boys were taken for mutes and eunuchs in 
seraglio, as clerks in the offices of state, and for soldiers in the army. Westward 
of Georgia is Mingrelia, a country likewise inhabited by Christians, who underwent 
the same persecutions and rigours as the Georgians by the Turks and Persians; 
their children were torn from them, or they were murdered for refusing to consent 
to the sale. In a history like the present it is some relief to find that persecuting 
cruelty was in no age confined to Christians and pagans: the Mahometans, whenever 
they had occasion thus to advance the credit of their prophet, and extend the 
influence of their opinions, did not scruple to adopt every divice and inflict 
every barbarity that depraved minds could stand the chance of turning to a successful 
account. That community which promised the greatest measure of earthly enjoyment, 
as the consummation of its system and the recom- pense of its devotees, with a 
malignant consistency strove to inflict the greatest sum of earthly misery on 
such as would not yield to their power, or dared to controvert their licentious 
creed. In no part of the globe are Christians so hated, or treated with such severity, 
as at Algiers. The conduct of the Algerines towards them is marked with extreme 
perfidy and cruelty. By paying a most exorbitant fine, some are allowed the title 
of free Christians: these are permitted to dress in the fashion of their respective 
countries; but the christian slaves are obliged to wear a coarse grey suit, a 
seaman's cap, and often a more marked and degrading badge of slavery. The following 
are the various Page 243 punishments exercised towards them: If they join any 
of the natives in open rebellion, they are strangled with a bow-string, or hanged 
on an iron hook. If they speak against Mahomet, they must become Mahometans, or 
be impaled alive. If they profess Christianity, after having changed to the Mahometan 
persuasion, they are roasted alive, or thrown from the city walls, and caught 
upon large sharp hooks, on which they hang till they expire. If they kill a Turk 
they are burnt. If ever they attempt to escape and are retaken, they suffer death 
in the following manner, which is equally singular and brutal: the criminal is 
hung naked on a high gallows by two hooks, the one fastened through the palm of 
one hand, and the other through the sole of the opposite foot, where he is left 
till death relieves him. Other punishment for crimes committed by the Chris- tians 
are left to the discretion of the judges, who usually decree tortures the most 
barbarous. At Tunis, if a Christian is caught in attempting to escape, his limbs 
are all broken; and if he slay his master, he is fastened to the tail of a horse, 
and dragged about the streets till he expires. Fez and Morocco conjointly form 
an empire, and are the most considerable of the Barbary States. There Christian 
slaves are treated with the greatest rigour; the rich have exorbitant ransoms 
imposed upon them; the poor are hard worked and half starved, and sometimes they 
are murdered by royal command or by their task-masters' barbarity. These cruelties, 
however, have long diminished, and after the example of Algiers, will no doubt 
soon cease, even without European interference. SECTION II.  ACCOUNT 
OF PERSECUTIONS IN CALABRIA. About the 14th century, a great many Waldenses 
of Pragela and Dauphiny emigrated to Calabria, where, having received permission 
to settle in some waste lands, they soon, by industrious cultivation, converted 
several wild and barren spots into beauty and fertility. The nobles of Calabria 
were highly pleased with their new vassals and tenants, finding them honest, quiet, 
and industrious; but the priests, filled with jeal- ousy, soon exhibited several 
negative complaints against them, charging them with not being Roman catholics, 
not making any of their boys priests, not creating any of their girls nuns, not 
going to mass, not giving wax tapers to the altars as offerings, not going on 
pilgrimages, and not bowing to images. To these accusations the Calabrian lords 
replied, that the people were extremely harmless, giving no offence to the Roman 
catholics, but cheerfully paying tithes to the priests, whose revenues were considerably 
increased by their coming into the country, and who, consequently, ought to be 
the very last persons to make a complaint. Page 244 The Calabrian priesthood being 
thus silenced, things went on peaceably for a few years, during which the Waldenses 
formed themselves into two corporate towns, annexing several villages to their 
jurisdiction. At length they sent to Geneva for two clergymen, one to minister 
in each town. This being known, intelligence was conveyed to Pope Pius the fourth, 
who determined to exterminate them from Calabria without further delay. To this 
end cardinal Alexandrino, a man of violent temper and furious bigot, was sent 
with two monks to Calabria, where they were to act as inquisitors. These authorized 
persons came to St. Xist, one of the town built by the Waldenses, where having 
assembled the people, they told them that they should receive no injury if they 
would accept of preachers appointed by the pope; but if they refused they should 
be deprived both of their property and lives; and that to prove them, mass should 
be publicly said that afternoon, at which they must attend. The inhabitants of 
St. Xist, instead of obeying, fled with their families into the woods, and thus 
disappointed the cardinal and his coadjutors. Then they proceeded to La Garde, 
the other town belonging to the Wal- denses, where, to avoid a similar dilemma, 
they ordered the gates to be locked, and all avenues guarded. The same proposals 
were however made to them as had been made to the people of St. Xist; but with 
this artifice: the cardinal assured them that the inhabitants of St. Xist had 
imme- diately acceded to his proposals, and agreed that the pope should ap- point 
them preachers. This falsehood succeeded; for the people of La Garde thinking 
what the cardinal had told them to be truth, said they would exactly follow the 
example of their brethren at St. Xist. Having thus gained his point by falsehood, 
he sent for two troops with a view to massacre the people of St. Xist. He commanded 
the soldiers into the woods, to hunt them down like wild beasts, and gave strict 
orders to spare neither age nor sex, but to kill all they came near. The troops 
in obedience entered the woods, and many poor Xistians fell a prey to their ferocity, 
before the Waldenses were apprized of their design. At length, however, they determined 
to see their lives as dead as possible, when several conflicts happened, in which 
the half-armed Waldenses performed prodigies of valour, and many were slain on 
both sides. At length, the greater part of the troops being killed in the different 
rencounters, the remainder were compelled to retreat, which so enraged the cardinal 
that he wrote to the viceroy of Naples for reinforcements. The viceroy, in obedience, 
proclaimed throughout the Neapolitan territories, that all out-laws, deserters, 
and other proscribed persons, should be freely pardoned for their several offences, 
on condition of making a campaign against the inhabitants of St. Xist, and of 
continuing under arms till they were destroyed. On this several persons of desperate 
fortune came in, and being formed into light companies, were sent to scour the 
woods, and put to death all they could meet with of the reformed religion. The 
viceroy himself joined the cardinal, at the head of a body of regular forces, 
and in conjunction strove completely to accomplish their bloody purpose. Some 
they caught, and suspending them upon trees, cut down Page 245 boughs and burnt 
them, or left their bodies to be devoured by beasts or birds or prey. Many they 
shot at a distance; but the greatest number they hunted down by way of retreat. 
The inhuman chase was continued till all these people perished. The inhabitants 
of St. Xist being extermi- nated, those of La Garde engaged the attention of the 
cardinal and viceroy. The fullest protection was offered to them, their families, 
and their children, if they would embrace the Roman catholic religion. On the 
contrary, if they refused this mercy, as they insolently termed it, the utmost 
extremities would be used, and the most cruel death be the certain consequences 
of refusal. Notwithstanding promises on one side, and menaces on the other, the 
Waldenses unanimously refused to renounce their religion, or embrace the errors 
of popery. The cardinal and vicer- oy were so filled with rage at this, that they 
ordered thirty of them to be put immediately to the rack, as a terror to the rest. 
Several of these died under the torture: one Charlin, in particular, was so cruelly 
used that his body burst, his bowels came out, and he expired in the greatest 
agonies. These barbarities did not answer the end for which they were intended; 
for those who survived the torments of the rack, and those who had not felt it, 
remained equally constant to their faith, and boldly declared, that nothing, either 
of pain or fear, should ever induce them to renounce their God, of bow down to 
idols. The effect of this upon the obdurate cardinal was, that he ordered several 
of them to be stripped naked, and whipped to death with iron rods: some were hewn 
to pieces with swords; others were thrown from the top of a high tower; and many 
were covered with pitch and burnt alive. One of the monks who attended the cardinal 
discovered a most inhuman and diabolical nature. He requested that he might shed 
some of the blood of these poor people with his own hands; his request being granted, 
the barbarous man took a sharp knife, and cut the throats of fourscore men, women, 
and children. The four principal men of La Garde were hanged, and the clergyman 
was thrown from the top of his church steeple. He was dreadfully crushed, but 
not quite killed by the fall. The viceroy being present, said, "Is the dog yet 
living? Take him up, and cast him to the swine;" and the brutal sentence was actually 
put in execution. The monsters, in their hellish thirst of cruelty, racked sixty 
of the women with such severity that the cords pierced their limbs to the bone. 
They were then remanded to prison, where their wounds mortified, and they died 
in the most miserable manner. Many others were put to death by various means; 
and so jealous and arbitrary were those monsters, that if any Roman catholic more 
compassionate than the rest interceded for any of the reformed, he was immediately 
apprehended, and sacrificed as a favourer of heretics. The viceroy being obliged 
to return to Naples, and the cardinal having been recalled to Rome, the marquis 
of Butiane was commissioned to complete what they had begun; which he at length 
effected, by acting with such barbarous rigour, that there was not a single person 
of the reformed religion left in all Calabria. Thus were great numbers of inoffensive 
and harmless people deprived of their possessions, robbed of Page 246 their property, 
driven from their homes, and at length murdered by various means, only because 
they would not sacrifice their consciences to the superstitions of others, embrace 
doctrines which they abhorred, and attend to teachers whom they could not believe. 
In the year 1783 a tremendous earthquake happened in Calabria, which quite changed 
the face of the country, and destroyed between 40 and 50,000 inhabitants. We would 
not deal damnation on any land; still less on each individual whom we should, 
in a moment of provocation, deem the foe of God: but not to observe in this awful 
desolation the retributive justice of the Most High would be a criminal oversight. 
The Waldenses, in consequence of the continued persecutions they met with in France, 
fled for refuge to various parts of the world; among other places, many of them 
sought an asylum in the valleys of Piedmont, where they increased and flourished 
exceedingly for a considerable time. Notwithstanding their harmless behaviour, 
inoffensive conversation, and punctuality in paying tithes to the Romish clergy, 
the latter could not be contented, but sought to give them disturbance; and accordingly 
complained to the archbishop of Turin, that the Waldenses of the valleys of Piedmont 
were heretics. The clerical reasons for this charge were - that they did not believe 
in the doctrines of the church of Rome; that they made no offerings or prayers 
for the dead; that they did not go to mass; and that they neither confessed nor 
received absolution; neither did they believe in purgatory, or pay money to get 
the souls of their friends out of it. Upon these self-evident charges, the archbishop 
ordered a persecution to be commenced, in consequence of which many fell martyrs 
to the superstitious rage of the monks and priests. At Turin, one of the reformed 
had his bowels torn out and placed before his face, till he expired. At Revel, 
Catelin Girard being at the stake, desired the executioner to give him up a stone, 
which he refused, thinking that he meant to throw it at somebody; but Girard assuring 
him that he had no such design, the executioner complied; when Girard looking 
earnestly at the stone, said, "When it is in the power of a man to eat and digest 
this solid stone, the religion for which I am about to suffer shall have an end, 
and not before." He then threw the stone on the ground, and submitted cheerfully 
to the flames. A great many more were oppressed or put to death, till, wearied 
with their sufferings, the Waldenses flew to arms in their defence, and formed 
themselves into regular bodies. Full of revenge at this, the archbishop of Turin 
procured a number of troops, and sent against them; but in most of the skirmishes 
the Waldenses were victorious; for they knew, if they were taken, they should 
not be con- sidered as prisoners of war, but be tortured to death as heretics. 
Philip the Seventh was at this time duke of Savoy and supreme lord of Page 247 
Piedmont. He determined at length to interpose his authority, and stop these bloody 
wars, which so disturbed his dominions. Unwilling to offend the pope or the archbishop, 
he nevertheless sent them both messages, importing, that he could not any longer 
tamely see his dominions over- run with troops, who were commanded by prelates 
in the place of gener- als; nor would he suffer his country to be depopulated, 
while he himself had not been even consulted upon the occasion. The priests, perceiving 
the determination of the duke, had recourse to their usual artifice, and endeavoured 
to prejudice his mind against the Waldenses; but the duke told them, that though 
he was unacquainted with the religious tenets of these people, yet he had always 
found them quiet, faithful, and obedi- ent, and was therefore determined they 
should be persecuted no longer. The priests then vented the most palpable and 
absurd falsehoods: they assured the duke that he was mistaken in the Waldenses, 
for they were a wicked set of people, and highly addicted to intemperance, uncleanness, 
blasphemy, adultery, incest, and many other abominable crimes; and that they were 
scarcely human beings. But the duke was not so to be imposed upon, though the 
priests affirmed in the most solemn manner the truth of what they had said. In 
order to be convinced, Philip sent twelve learned gentlemen into the Piedmontese 
valleys to examine into the real charac- ters of the people. These gentlemen, 
after travelling through all the towns and villages, and conversing with the Waldenses 
of every rank, returned to the duke, and gave him the most favourable account 
of them; affirming, before the faces of the priests, that they were harmless, 
inoffensive, loyal, friendly, industrious, and pious; that they abhorred the crimes 
of which they were accused; and that should an individual, through his depravity, 
fall into any of those crimes, he would, by their laws, be punished in the most 
exemplary manner. With respect to the children, of whom the priests had told the 
most gross and ridiculous falsities, they were as fine children as could be seen. 
"And to convince your highness of what we have said," continued one of the gentlemen, 
"we have brought twelve of the principal male inhabitants, who are come to ask 
pardon in the name of the rest, for having taken up arms without your leave, though 
even in their own defence, and to preserve their lives from their merciless enemies. 
We have likewise brought several women, with children of various ages, that your 
highness may have an opportunity of judging for yourself." His highness then accepted 
the apology of the twelve delegates, conversed with the women, and examined the 
children, and afterwards graciously dismissed them. He then command- ed the priests, 
who had attempted to mislead him, immediately to leave the court; and gave strict 
orders, that the persecution should cease throughout his dominions." During the 
reign of this virtuous prince, the Waldenses enjoyed repose in their retreats; 
but on his death this happy scene changed, for his successor happened to be a 
bigoted papist. About the same time, some of the principal Waldenses proposed 
that their clergy should preach in public, that every one might know the purity 
of their doctrines; for hitherto they had preached only in private, and to such 
congregations as they well knew to consist of none but persons of Page 248 the 
reformed religion. As yet they possessed only the New Testament and a few books 
of the Old, in their own language. Anxious to have the whole of these important 
treasures of truth and wisdom, they employed a Swiss printer to furnish them with 
a complete edition in the Waldensian tongue, for which they paid him 1500 crowns 
of gold. When tidings of these things reached the ears of the new duke, he was 
greatly exasperat- ed, and sent a considerable body of troops into the valleys, 
swearing, that if the people would not conform to the Roman faith, he would have 
them flayed alive. The commander of the troops soon found the impracti- cability 
of conquering them with the number of men then under him: he, therefore, sent 
word to the duke, that the idea of subjugating the Waldenses with so small a force 
was ridiculous: that they were better acquainted with the country than any that 
were with him; that they had secured all the passes, were well armed, and determined 
to defend them- selves; and, with respect to flaying them alive, he said that 
every skin he tore off would cost him the lives of a dozen of his subjects. Alarmed 
at this, the duke commanded the troops to return, determining to act by stratagem. 
He, therefore, ordered rewards for taking any of the Wal- denses, who might be 
found straying from their places of security; and these, when taken, were either 
flayed alive or burnt. Pope Paul the Third, a furious bigot, ascending the pontifical 
chair, immediately solicited the parliament of Turin to persecute the Waldenses, 
as the most pernicious of all heretics. To this the parliament readily assent- 
ed, when several were suddenly seized and burnt by their order. Among these was 
Bartholomew Hector, a bookseller and stationer of Turin. He was brought up a Roman 
catholic, but some treatises written by the reformed clergy having fallen into 
his hands, he was fully convinced of their truth, and the errors of the church 
of Rome; yet his mind was for some time wavering between fear and duty, when, 
after some serious consideration, he fully embraced the reformed religion, and 
was appre- hended and burnt. A consultation was again held by the parliament of 
Turin, in which it was agreed, that deputies should be sent to the valleys of 
Piedmont with the following propositions; That if the Wal- denses would return 
to the bosom of the church of Rome, they should enjoy their houses, properties, 
and lands, and live with their families, without the least molestation. That to 
prove their obedience, they should send twelve of their principal persons, with 
all their ministers and schoolmasters, to Turin, to be dealt with at discretion. 
That the pope, the king of France, and the duke of Savoy, approved of, and au- 
thorised the proceedings of the parliament of Turin, upon this occasion. That 
if the Waldenses of Piedmont rejected these propositions, persecu- tion and death 
should be their reward. In answer to these hostile articles, the Waldenses made 
the following noble replies: That no con- sideration whatever should make them 
renounce their religion. That they would never consent to entrust their best and 
most respectable friends to the custody and discretion of their worst enemies. 
That they valued the approbation of the King of kings who reigns in Heaven, more 
than any Page 249 temporal authority. That their souls were more precious than 
their bodies, and would receive as they deserved, their supreme regard and care. 
As might be conjectured, this spirited and pointed answer greatly exasperated 
the parliament of Turin; in consequence of which they con- tinued, with more avidity 
than ever, to secure such Waldenses as fell into their hands, and who were sure 
to suffer the most cruel deaths. Among these they caught Jeffrey Varnagle, minister 
of Angrogne, whom they accused as a heretic, and committed to the flames. They 
soon after solicited from the king of France a considerable body of troops, in 
order to exterminate the reformed from the valleys of Piedmont; but just as the 
troops were about to march, the protestant princes of Germany interposed, and 
threatened to send troops to assist the Waldenses. On this the king of France, 
not caring to enter into a war, remanded the troops, and sent word to the parliament 
of Turin, that he could not spare them at present to act in Piedmont. At this 
those sanguinary senators were greatly disappointed, and through want of power 
the perse- cution gradually ceased, and they could only put to death such as they 
caught by chance, which owing to the caution of the Waldenses were very few. After 
a few years tranquillity, they were again disturbed. The pope's Nuncio coming 
to Turin to the duke of Savoy upon business, told that prince he was astonished 
he had not yet either rooted out the Waldenses from the valleys of Piedmont entirely, 
or compelled them to return to the church of Rome; that such conduct in him awakened 
suspi- cion; that he thought him a favourer of those heretics, and should accordingly 
report the affair to the pope. Roused by this reflection, and fearful of being 
misrepresented to the pope, the duke determined to banish all suspicion; and to 
prove his zeal, resolved to let loose the reins of cruelty on the unoffending 
Waldenses. He issued express orders for all to attend mass regularly on pain of 
death. This they absolutely refused to do, on which he entered the Piedmontese 
valleys with a great body of troops, and began a most furious persecution, in 
which great numbers were hanged, drowned, tied to trees, and pierced with prongs, 
thrown from precipices, burnt, stabbed, racked to death, worried by dogs, and 
crucified with their heads downwards. Those who fled had their goods plundered 
and their houses burnt. When they caught a minister or a schoolmaster, they put 
them to such exquisite tortures, as are scarcely credible to conceive. If any 
whom they took seemed wavering in their faith, they did not put them to death, 
but sent them to the gallies, to be made converts by dint of hardships. In this 
expedition the duke was accompanied by three men who resembled devils. Thomas 
Incomel, an apostate, brought up in the reformed religion, but who had renounced 
his faith, embraced the errors of popery, and turned monk. He was a great libertine, 
given to unnatural crimes, and sordidly solicitous for the plunder of the Waldenses. 
Corbis, a man of a very ferocious and cruel nature, whose business was to examine 
the prisoners. The provost of justice, an avaricious wretch, anxious for the execution 
of the Waldens- es, as every execution added to his hoards. These three monsters 
were unmerciful to the last degree: wherever they came, the blood of the Page 
250 innocent was sure to flow. In addition to the cruelties exercised by the duke 
with these three persons and the army in their different marches, many local barbarities 
took place. At Pignerol, a town in the valleys, was a monastery, the monks of 
which finding they might injure the re- formed with impunity, began to plunder 
their houses, and pull down their churches: and not meeting with opposition, they 
next seized upon the persons of those unhappy people, murdering the men, confining 
the women, and putting the children to Roman catholic nurses. In the same manner 
the Roman catholic inhabitants of the valley of St. Martin did all they could 
to torment the neighbouring Waldenses; they destroyed their churches, burnt their 
houses, seized their property, stole their cattle, converted their lands to their 
own use, committed their ministers to the flames, and drove the people to the 
woods, where they had nothing to subsist on but wild fruits, or the bark and roots 
of trees. Some ruf- fians having seized a minister as he was going to preach, 
determined to take him to a convenient place, and burn him. His parishioners hearing 
of his distress, armed themselves, pursued the villains, and seemed determined 
to rescue their minister. The ruffians finding they could not execute their first 
intent, stabbed the poor gentleman, and leaving him weltering in his blood, made 
a precipitate retreat. The astonished parishioners did all they could to recover 
him, but in vain; for he expired as they were carrying him home. The monks of 
Pignerol having great desire to get into their possession a minister of a town 
in the valley called St. Germain, hired a band of ruffians for the purpose of 
seizing him. These fellows were conducted by a treacherous person, formerly a 
servant to the clergyman, and who knew a secret way to his house, by which he 
could lead them without alarming the neighbourhood. The guide knocked at the door, 
and being asked who was there, answered in his own name. The clergyman, expecting 
no injury from a person on whom he had heaped favour, immediately opened the door; 
but perceiving the ruffians, he fled to a back door; but they rushed in, followed, 
and seized him. They then murdered all his family; after which they proceed- ed 
with their captive towards Pignerol, goading him all the way. He was confined 
a considerable time in prison, and then burnt. The troops of ruffians belonging 
to the monks, continuing their assaults about the town of St. Germain, murdering 
and plundering many of the inhabitants, the reformed of Lucerne and Angrogne sent 
some armed men to the assis- tance of their brethren. These bodies frequently 
attacked and routed the ruffians, which so alarmed the monks that they left their 
monastery of Pignerol for some time, till they could procure regular troops for 
their protection. The duke of Savoy, not thinking himself so successful as he 
imagined he should be, augmented his forces, joined to them the ruf- fians, and 
commanded that a general delivery should take place in the prisons, provided the 
persons released would bear arms, and assist in the extermination of the Waldenses. 
No sooner were the latter informed of these proceedings than they secured as much 
of their property as they could, and quitting the valleys, retired to the rocks 
and caves among Page 251 the Alps. The army on reaching their destined places 
began to plunder and burn the towns and villages wherever they came; but the troops 
could not force their passes to the Alps, gallantly defended by the Waldenses, 
who in those attempts always repulsed their enemies; but if any fell into the 
hands of the troops, they were treated in the most barbarous manner. A soldier 
having caught one of them, bit his right ear off, saying, "I will carry this member 
of that wicked heretic with me into my own country, and preserve it as a rarity." 
He then stabbed the man, and threw him into a ditch. At one time a party of the 
troops found a venerable man upwards of an hundred years of age, accompanied by 
his grand-daughter, a maiden, of about eighteen, in a cave. They murdered the 
poor old man in a most inhuman manner, and would have violated and murdered the 
girl had she not quickly escaped. Finding, however, that she was pursued, she 
fell from a precipice and killed herself. Deter- mined if possible to expel their 
invaders, the Waldenses entered into a league with the protestant powers in Germany, 
and with the reformed of Dauphiny and Pragela. These were respectively to furnish 
bodies of troops; and the Waldenses resolved, when thus reinforced, to quit the 
mountains of the Alps, where they soon must have perished, as the winter was coming 
on, and to force the duke's army to evacuate their native valleys. The duke of 
Savoy himself, however, was tired of the war, it having cost him a great fatigue 
and anxiety of mind, a vast number of men, and considerable sums of money. It 
had been much more tedious and bloody than he expected, as well as more expensive 
than he at first imagined, for he thought the plunder would have discharged the 
expences of the expedition: but the pope's nuncio, the bishops, monks, and other 
ecclesiastics, who attended the army had encouraged the war, took the greatest 
part of the wealth he acquired, under various pretences. For these reasons, and 
the death of his duchess, of which he had just received intelligence, and fearing 
that the Waldenses, by the treaties they had entered into, would become too powerful 
for him, he determined to return to Turin with his army, and to make peace with 
them. This resolution he put in practice greatly against the will of the ecclesias- 
tics, who by the war both satiated their avarice and their revenge. Before the 
articles of peace could be ratified, the duke himself died soon after his return 
to Turin; but on his death-bed he strictly en- joined his son to perform what 
he had intended, and to be as favourable as possible to the Waldenses. Charles-Emanuel, 
the duke's son, succeeded to the dominions of Savoy, and fully ratified the peace 
with the Waldenses, according to the last injunctions of his father, though the 
priests used all their arts to dissuade him from his noble purpose. Page 252  
of the inquisitors were known at Venice, a great number of protestants fixed their 
residence there, and many converts were made by the purity of their doctrines, 
and the inoffensiveness of their conversation. The pope no sooner learned the 
great increase of protestantism, than, in the year 1542, he sent inquisitors to 
Venice to make enquiry into the matter, and apprehend such as they might deem 
obnoxious. hus a severe persecution began, and many persons were martyred for 
serving God with sincerity, and scorning the trappings of superstition. Various 
were the modes by which the protestants were deprived of life; but one in particular, 
being both new and singular, we shall describe. As soon as sentence was passed, 
the prisoner had an iron chain, to which was suspended a great stone, fastened 
to his body; he was then laid upon a plank, with his face upwards, and rowed between 
two boats to a certain distance at sea, when the boats separated, and, by the 
weight of the stone, he was sunk to the bottom. If any dared deny the jurisdiction 
of the inquisitors at Venice, they were conveyed to Rome, where, being committed 
to damp and nauseous prisons, and never called to a hearing, their flesh mortified, 
and a most miserable death ensued. A citizen of Venice, named Anthony Ricetti, 
being apprehended as a protestant, was sentenced to be drowned in the manner above 
described. A few days previous to his execution, his son went to him, and entreated 
him to recant, that his life might be saved, and himself not left an orphan. To 
this the father replied, "A good Christian is bound to relin- quish not only goods 
and children, but life itself for the glory of his Redeemer." The nobles of Venice 
likewise sent him word, that if he would embrace the Roman catholic religion, 
they would not only grant him life, but redeem a considerable estate which he 
had mortgaged, and freely present him with it. This, however, he absolutely refused 
to comply with, sending word that he valued his soul beyond all other considera- 
tions. Finding every endeavour to persuade him ineffectual, they ordered the execution 
of his sentence, and he died commending his soul fervently to his Redeemer. Francis 
Sega, another Venetian, stedfastly persisting in his faith, was executed, a few 
days after Recetti, in the same man- ner. Francis Spinola, a protestant gentleman 
of great learning, was apprehended by order of the inquisitors, and carried before 
their trib- unal. A treatise on the Lord's Supper was then put into his hands, 
and he was asked if he knew the author of it. To which he replied, "I confess 
myself its author; and solemnly affirm, that there is not a line in it but what 
is authorized by, and consonant to, the Holy Scriptures." On this confession he 
was committed close prisoner to a dungeon. After remaining there several days, 
he was brought to a second examination, when he charged the pope's legate and 
the inquisitors with being merci- less barbarians, and represented the superstition 
and idolatry of the Page 253 church of Rome in so strong a light, that, unable 
to refute his argu- ments, they recommitted him to his dungeon. Being brought 
up a third time, they asked him if he would recant his errors, to which he answered, 
that the doctrines he maintained were not erroneous, being purely the same as 
those which christ and his apostles had taught, and which were handed down to 
us in the sacred volume. The inquisitors then sentenced him to be drowned, which 
was executed in the manner already described. He went to death with joy, thinking 
it unspeakable happiness to be so soon ushered to the world of glory, to dwell 
with God and the spirits of just men made perfect.  SECTION V.  ACCOUNT 
RELIGION. John Mollius was born at Rome of a respectable family. At twelve 
years old his parents placed him in a monastery of grey friars, where he made 
so rapid a progress in his studies, that in less than six years he was admitted 
to priest's orders. He was then sent to Ferrara, where, after six years further 
study, he was appointed theological reader in the university. Here he began to 
exert his great talents to disguise the gospel truths, and to varnish over the 
errors of the church of Rome. Having passed some years here, he removed to the 
university of Bononia, where he became a professor. At length, happily reading 
some treatises written by ministers of the reformed religion, he was suddenly 
struck with the errors of popery, and became in his heart a zealous protestant. 
He now determined to expound in truth and simplicity St. Paul's epistle to the 
Romans, in a regular course of sermons; at each of which he was attended by a 
vast concourse of people. But when the priests learned the tenets of his doctrines, 
they dispatched an account of him and them to Rome; when the pope sent Cornelius, 
a monk, to Bononia, to expound the same epistle, according to his own tenets, 
and to controvert the doc- trine of Mollius. The people, however, found such a 
disparity between the preachers, that the audience of Mollius increased, while 
Cornelius preached to empty benches. The latter on this wrote of his bad success 
to the pope, who immediately ordered Mollius to be apprehended. He was seized 
accordingly, and kept in close confinement. The bishop of Bononia sent him word, 
that he must recant or be burnt; but he appealed to Rome, and was in consequence 
removed thither. Here he begged to have a public trial; but this the pope absolutely 
denied him, and commanded him to explain his opinions in writing, which accordingly 
he did under the following heads:- Original sin; Free will; The infallibility 
of the church of Rome; The infallibility of the pope; Justification by faith; 
Purgatory; Transubstantiation; Mass; Auricular confession; Prayers for the dead; 
The host; Prayers for saints; Going on pilgrimages; Extreme unction; Performing 
service in an unknown tongue. All these topics he treated upon scripture authority. 
The pope through reasons of policy spared him for the present; but soon after, 
in 1553, had him apprehend- Page 254 ed, and afterwards hanged and his body burnt 
to ashes. Francis Gamba, a Lombard and protestant, was apprehended, and condemned 
to death by the senate of Milan, in the year 1554. At the place of execution, 
he was presented by a monk with a cross. "My mind," said Gambia, "is so full of 
the real merits and goodness of Christ that I want not a piece of sense- less 
wood to put me in mind of him." For this expression his tongue was bored through, 
after which he was committed to the flames. About the same period Algerius, a 
learned and accomplished student in the univers- ity of Padua, embraced the reformed 
religion, and was zealous in the conversion of others. For these proceedings he 
was accused of heresy to the pope, and being apprehended, we committed to the 
prison at Venice, whence he wrote to his converts at Padua the following celebrated 
and beautiful epistle. "Dear Friends, "I cannot omit this opportunity of letting 
you know the sincere pleasure I feel in my confinement: to suffer for Christ is 
delectable indeed; to undergo a little transitory pain in this world for his sake, 
is cheaply purchasing a reversion of eternal glory, in a life that is everlasting. 
Hence I have found honey in the entrails of a lion; a paradise in a prison; tranquility 
in the house of sorrow; where others weep, I re- joice; where others tremble and 
faint, I find strength and courage. The Almighty alone confers these favours on 
me; be his the glory and the praise. "How different do I find myself from what 
I was before I em- braced the truth in its purity: I was then dark, doubtful, 
and in dread; I am now enlightened, certain, and full of joy. He that was far 
from me is present with me; he comforts my spirit, heals my griefs, strengthens 
my mind, refreshes my heart, and fortifies my soul. Learn, therefore, how merciful 
and amiable the Lord is, who supports his servants under temptations, expels their 
sorrows, lightens their afflictions, and even visits them with his glorious presence 
in the gloom of a dismal dungeon. "Your sincere friend, "Algerius." The pope being 
informed of Algerius's great learning and abilities, sent for him to Rome, and 
tried by every means to win him to his purpose. But finding his endeavours hopeless, 
he ordered him to be burnt. John Alloy- sius, a protestant teacher, having come 
from Geneva to preach in Cala- bria, was there apprehended, carried to Rome, and 
burnt by order of the pope: and at Massina, James Bovellus was burnt for the same 
offence. In the year 1560, pope Pius the Fourth commenced a general persecution 
of the protestants throughout the Italian states, when great numbers of every 
age, sex, and condition, suffered martyrdom. Concerning the cruel- ties practised 
upon this occasion, a learned and humane Roman catholic thus speaks in a letter 
to a nobleman: "I cannot, my lord, forbear disclosing my sentiments with respect 
to the persecution now carrying on. I think it cruel and unnecessary. I tremble 
at the manner of put- Page 255 ting to death, as it resembles more the slaughter 
of calves and sheep, than the execution of human beings. I will relate to your 
lordship a dreadful scene, of which I was myself an eye-witness. Seventy protes- 
tants were cooped up in one filthy dungeon together; the executioner went in among 
them, picked out one from among the rest, blindfolded him, led him out to an open 
place before the prison, and cut his throat with the greatest composure. He then 
calmly walked into the prison again, bloody as he was, and with the knife in his 
hands selected another, and dispatched him in the same manner; and this, my lord, 
he repeated till the whole number were put to death. I leave it to your lordship's 
feel- ings to judge of my sensations upon the occasion; my tears now wash the 
paper upon which I give you the recital. Another thing I must mention, the patience 
with which they met death: they seemed all resignation and piety, fervently praying 
to God, and cheerfully encountering their fate. I cannot reflect without shuddering, 
how the executioner held that bloody knife between his teeth: what a dreadful 
figure he appeared, all covered with blood, and with what unconcern he executed 
his barbarous office!" The following remarkable incident, and fatal in its conclusion, 
took place at Rome. A young Englishman happened to be one day passing by a church, 
when the procession of the host was coming out. A bishop carried the host, which 
the young man perceiving, he snatched it from him, threw it upon the ground, and 
trampling it under his feet exclaimed, "Ye wretched idolaters, who neglect the 
true God to adore a morsel of bread!" The people would have instantly torn him 
to pieces upon the spot; but the priests having persuaded them to let him abide 
by the sentence of the pope, they restrained their fury. As soon as the affair 
was made known to the pope, he ordered the prisoner to be burnt immediately; but 
a cardinal, more refined in cruelty dissuaded him from this, saying, it was better 
to torture him, in order that they might find out if he had been instigated by 
any particular person to commit so atrocious an act. This was accordingly approved, 
and he was tortured with unusual severity: but they could only get these words 
from him, "It was the will of God that I should do what I did." The pope therefore 
sentenced him to be led naked to the middle, through the streets of Rome, by the 
executioner - to wear the image of the devil upon his head - to have his breeches 
painted with the representation of flames - to have his right hand cut off - and 
after being carried about thus in procession, to be burnt. On hearing this sentence, 
he implored God to give him strength and fortitude to go through it. As he passed 
through the streets he was greatly derided by the people, to whom he said some 
severe things respecting the Romish superstition. But a cardinal who attended 
the procession, over-hearing him, ordered him to be gagged. When he came to the 
church-door where he trampled on the host, the hangman cut off his right hand, 
and fixed it on a pole. Then two tormen- tors, with flaming torches, scorched 
and burnt his flesh all the rest of the way. At the place of execution he kissed 
the chains that were to bind him to the stake. A monk presenting the figure of 
a saint to him, he struck it aside, and then being fastened to the stake, the 
fagots were lighted, and he was burnt to ashes. Page 256  SECTION VI.  
is situated on the south side of the valleys of Piedmont, and in the year 1561 
was principally inhabited by protes- tants, when the marquess began a persecution 
against them at the insti- gation of the pope. He commenced by banishing the ministers; 
if any of whom refused to leave their flocks they were imprisoned and severely 
tortured: he did not, however, proceed to put any to death. A little time after, 
the marquisate fell into the possession of the duke of Savoy, who sent circular 
letters to all the towns and villages, that he expected the people should all 
go to mass. Upon this the inhabitants of Saluzzo returned the following submissive, 
yet manly address for answer: "MAY IT PLEASE YOUR HIGHNESS, "We humbly entreat 
your permission to continue in the practice of the religion we have always professed, 
and our fathers professed before us. In this we shall acquit our conscienc- es, 
without offending any person, for we are sensible that our religion is founded 
on the Holy Scriptures, by whose precepts we are commanded not to injure our neighbours. 
"We likewise implore your protection; for as Jews, infidels, and other enemies 
to Christ, are suffered to live in your dominions unmolested, we hope the same 
indulgence may be granted to Christians, whose very faith obliges them to be harmless, 
honest, inof- fensive, and loyal. "We remain your highness's respectful, obedient, 
and faithful subjects. "THE PROTESTANT INHABITANTS OF THE MARQUISATE." This letter 
for a time seemed to pacify the duke, who did not interrupt them at present; but 
at length he sent them word, that they must either conform to his commands, or 
leave his dominions in fifteen days. The protestants, upon this unexpected edict, 
sent a deputy to the duke to obtain its revocation, or at least to have it moderated. 
Their petitions however were vain, and they were given to understand that the 
edict was peremptory. Some, under the impulse of fear or worldly interest, were 
weak enough to go to mass, in order to avoid banishment, and preserve their property; 
others removed with their effects to different coun- tries; and many neglected 
the time so long, that they were obliged to abandon all they were worth, and leave 
the marquisate in haste; while some, who unhappily stayed behind, were seized, 
plundered, and put to death. Page 257  SECTION VII.  FARTHER ACCOUNT 
Pope Clement the Eighth sent missionaries into the valleys of Piedmont, with a 
view to induce the protestants to renounce their religion. These missionaries 
erected monasteries in several parts of the valleys, and soon became very troublesome 
to the reformed, to whom the monasteries appeared not only as fortresses to awe 
them, but as sanctuaries for all such to fly to as had injured them in any degree. 
The insolence and tyranny of these missionaries increasing, the protestants petitioned 
the duke of Savoy for protection. But instead of gaining redress, the duke published 
a decree, in which he declared, that one witness should be sufficient in a court 
of law against a protestant; and that any witness who convicted a protestant of 
any crime whatever should be entitled to a hundred crowns as a reward. In consequence 
of this, as may be imagined, many protestants fell martyrs to perjury and avarice; 
for several pa- pists would swear anything against them for the sake of the reward, 
and then fly to their own priests for absolution from their false oaths. These 
missionaries, moreover, endeavoured to get the books of the prot- estants into 
their power, in order to burn them; the former wrote to the duke of Savoy, who 
for the heinous crime of not surrendering their bibles, prayer-books, and religious 
treatises, sent a number of troops to be quartered on them, which occasioned the 
ruin of many families. To encourage, as much as possible, the apostasy of the 
protestants, the duke published a proclamation, wherein he said, "To encourage 
the heret- ics to turn catholics, it is our will and pleasure; and we do hereby 
expressly command, that all such as shall embrace the holy Roman faith, shall 
enjoy an exemption from all and every tax for the space of five years, commencing 
from the day of their conversion." He likewise estab- lished a court, called the 
council for extirpating the heretics. This court was to enter into enquiries concerning 
the ancient privileged of the protestant churches, and the decrees which had been, 
from time to time, made in favour of them. But the investigation was carried on 
with the most decided partiality. After this, the duke published several successive 
edicts, prohibiting the protestants from acting as schoolmas- ters or tutors; 
from teaching any art, science, or language; from hold- ing any places of profit, 
trust, or honour: and finally, commanding them to attend mass. This last was the 
sure signal for a persecution, and which of consequence soon followed. One of 
the first who attracted the notice of the papists, was Mr. Sebastian Basan, a 
zealous protestant, who was seized by the missionaries, confined, tormented fifteen 
months, and then committed to the flames. Before the persecution commenced, the 
missionaries employed kidnappers to steal away the children of the protestants, 
that they might privately be brought up Roman catholics; but now they took away 
the children by open force, and if the wretched parents resisted, they were immediately 
murdered. The duke of Savoy, in Page 258 order to inspirit the persecution, called 
a general assembly of the Roman catholic nobility and gentry, whence issued a 
solemn edict against the reformed, containing many heads, and including several 
reasons for extirpating them, among which the following were the principal: "for 
the preservation of the papal authority; that the church livings may be all under 
one mode of government; to make an union among all parties; in honour of all the 
saints, and of the ceremonies of the church of Rome." This was followed by a most 
cruel order, published on January 25, A.D. 1655, under the sanction of the duke, 
by Andrew Gastaldo, doctor of civil laws. This order set forth, "That every head 
of a family, with the individuals of that family, of the reformed religion, of 
what rank, degree, or condition soever, none expected, inhabiting and possessing 
estates in Lucerne, St. Giovanni, Bibiana, Campiglione, St. Secondo, Lucernetta, 
La Torre, Fenile, and Bircherassio, shall, within three days after the publication 
thereof, depart, and be withdrawn out of the said places and translated into the 
places and limits tolerated by his high- ness during his pleasure; particularly 
Bobbio, Angrogno, Villaro, Rora- ta, and the county of Bonetti. And all this to 
be done on pain of death, and confiscation of house and goods, unless within the 
limited time they turn Roman catholics." The suddenness of the order affected 
all, and things which would have been scarcely noticed at another time, now appeared 
in the most conspicuous light. Neither women nor children, neither mothers nor 
infants, were objects of pity on this order for sudden removal, for all were included 
in the command; and to add to the distress, the winter was remarkably severe. 
Notwithstanding this, the papists drove them from their habitations at the time 
appointed, without even sufficient clothes to cover them; and may perished in 
the mountains through the severity of the season, or want of food. Those who remained 
behind after the publication of the decree, were murdered by the popish inhabitants, 
or shot by the troops. A particular description of these cruelties is given in 
a letter, written by a protestant, who was upon the spot, and who happily escaped 
the carnage. "The army," says he, "having got footing, became very numerous by 
the addition of a multitude of the neighbouring popish inhabitants, who finding 
we were the destined prey of the plunderers, fell upon us with impetuous fury. 
Exclusive of the duke of Savoy's troops, and the Roman catholic inhabitants, there 
were several regiments of French auxiliaries, some companies belonging to the 
Irish brigades, and several bands formed of outlaws, smugglers, and prisoners, 
who had been promised pardon and liberty in this world, and absolution in the 
next, for assisting to exterminate the protestants from Piedmont. This armed multitude 
being encouraged by the bishops and monks, fell upon the protestants in a most 
furious manner. All now was horror and despair; blood stained the floors of the 
houses, dead bodies bestrewed the streets, and groans and cries shocked the ears 
of humanity from every quarter. Some armed themselves, and skirmished with the 
troops; and many with their families fled to the mountains. In one village the 
wretches vented their cruelty on one hundred and fifty women Page 259 and children 
after the man had fled, beheading the women, and dashing out the brains of the 
children." Sarah Rostignole des Vignes, a woman sixty years of age, being seized 
by some soldiers, they ordered her to say a prayer to some saints; which she refusing, 
they first stabbed and then beheaded her. Martha Constantine, a beautiful young 
woman, was bar- barously abused and killed. Parts of their bodies were even cooked 
for food, and served up for soldiers who were ignorant what was before them. When 
they had done eating, the others told them what they had made a meal of, in consequence 
of which a quarrel ensued, swords were drawn, and a battle took place. Several 
were killed in the fray, the greater part of whom were those concerned in the 
horrid massacre of the woman, and who had practised such a brutal deception on 
their deluded comrades. Peter Simonds, a protestant, about eighty years of age, 
was bound, and then thrown down a precipice. In the fall the branch of a tree 
caught hold of the ropes that fastened him, and suspended him in the mid-way, 
so that he languished for several days till he perished of hunger. Esay Garcino, 
refusing to renounce his religion, the soldiers cut him into small pieces, saying, 
in ridicule, they had minced him. A woman, named Armand, had her limbs separated 
from each other, and then the respective parts were hung upon a hedge. Several 
men, women, and children, were flung from the rocks, and dashed to pieces. Among 
others was Magdalen Bertino, a protestant woman of La Torre, who was bound and 
thrown down one of the precipices. Mary Raymondet, of the same town, had her flesh 
mangled till she expired. Magdalen Pilot, of Villaro, was cut to pieces in the 
cave of Castolus. Ann Charboniere had one end of a stake thrust into her body, 
and the other end being fixed in the ground, she was left in that manner to perish. 
Jacob Perin the elder, of the church of Villaro, with David his brother, were 
flayed alive. Giovanni Andrea Michialin, an inhabitant of La Torre, with four 
of his children, was apprehended; three of them were killed before his eyes, the 
soldiers asking him, at the death of every child, if he would renounce, which 
he constantly refused. One of the soldiers then took up the last and youngest 
by the legs, and putting the same question to the father, he replied as before, 
when the inhuman brute dashed out the child's brains. The father, however, at 
the same moment started from them, and fled: the soldiers fired after him, but 
missed him; and he escaped to the Alps, and there remained concealed. Giovanni 
Pelanchion, on refusing to abjure his oath, was fastened to the tail of a mule, 
and dragged through the streets of Lucerne, amidst the acclamations of an inhuman 
mob, who kept stoning him, and crying out, "He is possessed of the devil." They 
then took him to the river side, struck off his head, and left that and his body 
unburied upon the bank. Peter Fontaine had a beautiful child ten years of age, 
named Magdalene, who was violated and murdered by the soldiers. Another girl, 
of about the same age, they roasted alive at Villa Nova; and a poor woman, hearing 
the soldiers were coming towards her house, snatched up the cradle in which her 
infant son was asleep, and fled towards the woods. The soldiers, however, saw 
and pursued her, when she lightened herself by putting down the cradle and child, 
which Page 260 the soldiers no sooner came to, than they murdered the infant, 
and continuing the pursuit, found the mother in a cave, where they first abused 
and then slaughtered her. Jacob Michelino, chief elder of the church of Bobbio, 
and several other protestants, were hung up by hooks fixed to their bodies, and 
left to expire. Giovanni Rostagrnal, a vener- able protestant, upwards of fourscore 
years of age, had his features mangled, and was otherwise injured by sharp weapons, 
till he bled to death. Daniel Saleagio and his wife, Giovanni Durant, Lodwich, 
Durant, Bartholomew Durant, Daniel Revel, and Paul Reynaud, had their mouths stuffed 
with gunpowder, which being set fire to, their heads were blown to atoms. Jacob 
Birone, a schoolmaster of Rorata, for refusing to change his religion, was stripped 
naked; and after having been exposed, had the nails of his toes and fingers torn 
off with hot pincers, and holes bored through his hands with the point of a dagger. 
He next had a cord tied round his middle, and was led through the streets with 
a soldier on each side of him. At every turning the soldier on his right- hand 
side cut a gash in his flesh, and the soldier on his left-hand side struck him 
with a bludgeon, both saying, at the same instant, "Will you go to mass? Will 
you go to mass?" He still replied in the negative to these interrogatories, and 
being at length taken to the bridge, they cut off his head on the balustrade, 
and threw both that and his body into the river. Paul Garnier, a protestant beloved 
for his piety, had his eyes put out, was then flayed alived, and being divided 
into four parts, his quarters were placed on four of the principal houses of Lucerne. 
He bore all his sufferings with the most exemplary patience, praised God as long 
as he could speak, and plainly evinced the courage arising from a confidence in 
God. Daniel Cardon, of Rocappiata, being apprehended by some soldiers, they cut 
off his head. Two poor old blind women, of St. Giovanni, were burnt alive. A widow 
of La Torre, with her daughter, was driven into the river, and stoned to death 
there. Paul Giles, on attempting to run away from some soldiers, was shot in the 
neck: they then mutilated and stabbed him, and gave his carcass to the dogs. Some 
of the Irish troops having taken eleven men of Garcigliana, prisoners, they heated 
a furnace and forced them into it. Michael Gonet, a man about 90 years old, was 
also burnt to death. Baptisa Oudri, another old man, was stabbed. Bartholomew 
Frasche had his heels pierced, through which ropes being put, he was dragged to 
the gaol, where, in consequence of his wound mortifying, he soon died. Magdalene 
de la Peire, being pursued by the soldiers and taken, was cast down a precipice 
and dashed to pieces. Margaret Revella and Mary Pravillerin, two very old women, 
were burnt alive. Michael Bellimo, and Anne Bochardno, were beheaded. Joseph Chariet 
and Paul Carniero were flayed alive. Cypryania Bustia being asked, "if he would 
renounce his religion, and turn Roman cathol- ic," he replied, "I would rather 
renounce life, or turn dog:" to which a priest answered, "for that expression 
you shall both renounce life, and be given to the dogs." They, accordingly, dragged 
him to prison, where they confined him till he perished of hunger, after which 
they threw his Page 261 corpse into the street before the prison, and it was devoured 
by dogs. Joseph Pont was severed in two. Margaret Soretta was stoned to death. 
Antonio Bertina had his head cleft asunder. Daniel Maria, and all his family, 
being ill of a fever, several ruffians broke into his house, telling him they 
were practical physicians, and would give them all present ease; which they did, 
by murdering him and his whole family. Three infant children of a protestant, 
named Peter Fine, were buried in the snow. An elderly widow, named Judith, was 
beheaded. Lucy, the wife of Peter Besson, who lived in one of the villages of 
the Piedmontese valleys, being in an advanced state of pregnancy, determined, 
if possi- ble, to escape from such dreadful scenes as every where surrounded her: 
she accordingly took two young children, one in each hand, and set off towards 
the Alps. But on the third day of the journey she was taken in labour among the 
mountains, and delivered of an infant, who perished through the inclemency of 
the weather, as did the other two children; for all three were found dead by her 
side, and herself just expiring, by the person to whom she related the above circumstances. 
Francis Gross, son of a worthy clergyman, was treated in a manner which, if possible, 
surpasses in cruelty the worst instance which has been mentioned. It is too heart-sickening 
to be detailed, and was aggravated to the the most inhuman extent by his wife 
being compelled to witness his extreme suf- ferings. The torture was not at last 
suspended but through the weariness of those who inflicted it. The Sieur Thomas 
Margher fled to a cave, where being discovered, the soldiers shut up the mouth, 
and he perished with famine. Judith Ravelin, with seven children, were barbarously 
murdered in their beds. Jacob Roseno was commanded to pray to the saints, which 
he refusing, the soldiers beat him violently with bludgeons to make him comply, 
but being steady to his faith, they fired at him, and lodged many balls in his 
body. While in the agonies of death, they cried to him, "Will you pray to the 
saints?" To which he answered, "No!" when one of the soldiers, with a broad sword, 
clave is head asunder, and put an end to his sufferings. A young woman, named 
Susanna Ciacquin, being assaulted by a soldier, she made a stout resist- ance, 
and in the struggle pushed him over a precipice, when he was dashed to pieces 
by the fall. His comrades immediately fell upon her with their swords, and cut 
her to atoms. Giovanni Pullius, being appre- hended as a protestant, was ordered 
by the marquis of Pianessa to be executed in a place near the convent. When brought 
to the gallows, several monks attended to persuade him to renounce his religion. 
But he told them he never would embrace idolatry, and that he was happy in being 
thought worthy to suffer for the name of Christ. They then repre- sented to him 
what his wife and children, who depended upon his labour, would suffer after his 
decease: to which he replied, "I would have my wife and children, as well as myself, 
to consider their souls more than their bodies, and the next world before this; 
and with respect to the distress I may leave them in, God is merciful, and will 
provide for them while they are dependent on his protection." Finding the inflexibility 
of this poor man, the monks commanded the executioner to perform his Page 262 
office, when he launched the martyr into the world of glory. Paul Clement, an 
elder of the church of Rossana, being apprehended by the monks of a neighbouring 
monastery, was carried to the market-place of that town, where some protestants 
had just been executed. On beholding the dead bodies, he said calmly, "You may 
kill the body, but you cannot injure the soul of a true believer: with respect 
to the dreadful specta- cles which you have here shewn me, you may rest assured 
that God's vengeance will overtake the murderers of those poor people, and punish 
them for the innocent blood they have spilt." The monks were so exasper- ated 
at this reply, that they ordered him to be hung up directly; and while he was 
hanging, the soldiers amused themselves by shooting at the body. Daniel Rambaut, 
of Villaro, the father of a numerous family, was seized, and, with several others, 
committed to the gaol of Paysana. Here he was visited by several priests, who, 
with continual importunities, strove to persuade him to turn papist: but this 
he peremptorily refused, and the priests finding his resolution, pretended to 
pity his numerous family, and told him, that he might yet have his life, if he 
would subscribe to the belief of the following articles:- The real presence in 
the host. - Transubstantiation. - Purgatory. - The pope's infallibility. - That 
masses said for the dead will release souls from purgatory - That praying to saints 
will procure the remission of sins. To these proposals Rambaut replied, that neither 
his religion, his understanding, nor his conscience, would suffer him to subscribe 
to any of these articles; "For," said he, "to believe the real presence in the 
host, is a shocking union of blasphemy and idolatry. To fancy the words of consecration 
perform what the papists call transubstantiation, by converting the wafer and 
wine into the identical body and blood of Christ, which was crucified, and which 
afterwards ascended into heaven, is too gross an absurdity for even a child to 
believe; and nothing but the most blind superstition could make the Roman catholics 
put a confidence in anything so ridiculous. The doctrine of purgatory is more 
inconsistent and absurd than a fairy tale. The infallibility of the pope is an 
impossibility, and he arrogantly lays claim to what can belong to God only, as 
a perfect being. Saying masses for the dead is ridiculous, and only meant to keep 
up a belief in the fable of purgatory, as the fate of all is finally decided in 
the departure of the soul from the body. Praying to saints for the remission of 
sins, is misplacing adoration, as the saints themselves have occasion for an intercessor 
in Christ; therefore as God only can pardon our errors, we ought to sue to him 
alone for pardon." Filled with rage at these answers, the priests determined to 
shake his resolutions by the most cruel method imaginable: they inflicted daily 
tortures on his most susceptible limbs, and then deprived him of one limb after 
another so gradually as to reduce him to the utmost agony; when finding that he 
bore his sufferings with unconquerable fortitude, and maintained his faith with 
stedfast resolution, they stabbed him to the heart and gave his body to be devoured 
by dogs. Peter Gobriola, a protestant gentleman, of considerable eminence being 
seized by a troop of soldiers, and refusing to renounce his religion they hung 
several Page 263 bags of gunpowder about his body, and then caused them to explode. 
Anthony, the son of Samuel Catieris, a poor dumb lad, and extremely inoffensive, 
was cut to pieces by a party of the troops; and soon after the same ruffians entered 
the house of Peter Moniriat, and cut off the legs of the whole family, leaving 
them to bleed to death. Daniel Benech being apprehended, had his nose slit, and 
his ears cut off; after which, he was divided into quarters, and each quarter 
hung upon a tree; Mary Monino had her jaw-bones broken, and was left to languish 
till she was starved to death. Mary Pelanchion, a handsome widow, of the town 
of Villaro, was seized by a party of the Irish brigades, who having beat her cruelly, 
and otherwise abused her, dragged her to a high bridge which crossed the river, 
hung her by the legs from an arch with her head downwards towards the water, and 
then going into boats they shot at her till she died. Mary Nigrino, and her daughter, 
a poor idiot, were cut to pieces in the woods, and their bodies left to be devoured 
by beasts. Susanna Bales, a widow of Villaro, was immured and starved to death. 
Susanna Calvio, running away from some soldiers, and hiding herself in a barn, 
they set fire to the place, by which she was burnt to death. Daniel Bertino, a 
child, was burnt. Paul Armand was cut to pieces. Daniel Michialino had his tongue 
plucked out. Andreo Bertino, a lame and very old man, was mangled in a most shocking 
manner. But to enumerate any but the most remarkable cases is impossible, without 
rendering the volume almost an entire catalogue of names distinguished only by 
the undeserved sufferings of those who bore them. A protestant lady, named Constantia 
Bellione, was apprehended on account of her faith, and asked by a priest if she 
would renounce the devil and go to mass; to which she replied, "I was brought 
up in a religion by which I was always taught to renounce the devil; but should 
I comply with your desire, and go to mass, I should be sure to meet him there 
in a variety of shapes." The priest was highly incensed at this, and told her 
to recant, or she should suffer cruelly. She, however, boldly answered that she 
valued not any sufferings he could inflict, and in spite of them all she would 
keep her faith inviolate. The priest then ordered flesh to be cut from several 
parts of her body. This she bore with the most singular patience, only saying 
to the priest, "What horrid and lasting torments will you suffer in hell, for 
the trifling and temporary pains which I now endure!" Exasperated at this expression, 
and willing to stop her tongue, the priest ordered a file of musqueteers to draw 
up and fire upon her, by which she was soon dispatched. Judith Mandon, a young 
woman, for the same offence, was fastened to a stake, and sticks thrown at her 
from a distance, in imitation of the custom practised on Shrove- Tuesday of throwing 
at cocks. By this inhuman proceeding, her limbs were beat and mangled in a most 
terrible manner. At last one of the bludgeons striking her head, she was at once 
freed from her pains and her life. Paul Genre and David Paglia, each with his 
son, attempting to escape to the Alps, were pursued and overtaken by the soldiers 
in a large plain. Here their foes hunted them for their diversion, goading them 
with their swords, and making them run about till they dropped with fatigue. Page 
264 When they found that their spirits were exhausted, and that they could not 
afford them any more barbarous sport by running, the soldiers hacked them to pieces, 
and left their mangled fragments on the spot. Michael Greve, a young man of Bobbio, 
was apprehended in the town of La Torre, and being led to the bridge, was thrown 
into the river. Being, however, an expert swimmer, he swam down the stream, thinking 
to escape, but the soldiers and mob followed on both sides the river, and kept 
stoning him, till receiving a blow on one of his temples, he sunk and was drowned. 
David Baridona was apprehended at Villaro, and carried to La Torre, where refusing 
to renounce his religion, he was tormented by brimstone matches being fastened 
to his hands and feet, and set fire to, and afterwards, by having his flesh plucked 
off with red hot pincers, till he expired. Giovanni Barolina, with his wife, were 
thrown into a pool of stagnant water, and compelled, by means of pitchforks and 
stones, to immerse their heads till they were suffocated with the stench. A number 
of soldiers assaulted the house of Joseph Garniero, and before they entered, fired 
in at the window, to give notice of their approach. Mrs. Garniero was at that 
instant suckling her child, and one of the balls entered her breast. On finding 
their intentions, she begged them to spare the life of the infant, which they 
promised to do, and sent it immediately to a Roman catholic nurse. They then seized 
the husband and hanged him at his own door, and having shot the wife through the 
head, left her body weltering in its blood. Isaiah Mandon, a pious protestant, 
in the wane of life, fled from his merciless persecutors to the cleft in a rock, 
where he suffered the most dreadful hardships. In the midst of winter he was forced 
to lay on the bare stone, without any covering; his food was the roots he could 
pluck up near his miserable habitation; and the only way by which he could quench 
his thirst was to put snow in his mouth till it melted. Here, however, some of 
the soldiers found him, and after beating him unmercifully, they drove him towards 
Lucerne, goading him all th way with the points of their swords. Being exceedingly 
weak- ened by his manner of living, and exhausted by the blows he had re- ceived, 
he fell down in the road. They again beat him to make him proceed; till on his 
knees, he implored them to put him out of his misery. This they at last agreed 
to do; and one of them shot him through the head, saying "There, heretic, take 
thy request." Mary Revel, a protestant, received a shot in her back while walking 
along the street, which brought her to the ground; but recovering sufficient strength, 
she raised herself upon her knees, and lifting her hands towards heaven, prayed 
in a most fervent manner to the Almighty; when a number of soldiers, near at hand, 
fired a volley of shot at her, and in an instant put an end to her miseries. To 
screen themselves from danger, a number of men, women, and children, fled to a 
large cave, where they continued for some weeks in safety, two of the men were, 
however, one day watched, by which the cave was discovered, and, soon after, a 
troop of catholic soldiers appeared before it. Many of these were neighbours, 
and intimate acquaintances, and some even relations to those in the cave. The 
protes- Page 265 tants, therefore, came out, and implored them, by the ties of 
hospitali- ty, and especially by those of blood and neighbourhood, not to murder 
them. But, fulfilling the words of the Lord, "the father shall be divid- ed against 
the son, and the son against the father," the papists, blind- ed by bigotry, told 
them they could not shew any mercy to heretics, and therefore bade them all prepare 
to die. Hearing this, and knowing the obduracy of their enemies, the protestants 
fell prostrate, lifted their hearts to heaven, and patiently awaited their fate, 
which the papists soon decided, by cutting them to pieces. The blood of the faithful 
being almost exhausted in the towns and villages of Piedmont, there remained but 
one place that had stood aloof from the general slaughter. This was a little commonalty 
of Roras, which stood upon a eminence. Of this the earl of Christophe, one of 
the duke of Savoy's officers, deter- mined if possible to make himself master; 
with that view he detached three hundred men to surprise it. The inhabitants, 
however, had intel- ligence of the approach of these troops, and captain Joshua 
Gianavel, a brave protestant officer, put himself at the head of a small body 
of the citizens, and waited in ambuscade to attack the enemy in a narrow pas- 
sage, the only place by which the town could be approached. As soon as the troops 
appeared and had entered the passage, the protestants commenced a smart and well-directed 
fire against them, and still kept themselves concealed behind bushes from the 
sight of the enemy. A great number of the soldiers were killed, and the rest, 
receiving a continual fire, and not seeing any to whom they might attribute and 
return it, made a precipitate retreat. The members of this little community imme- 
diately sent a memorial to the marquis of Pianessa, a general officer of the duke, 
stating, that they were sorry to be under the necessity of taking up arms; but 
that the secret approach of a body of troops, with- out any previous notice sent 
of the purpose of their coming, had greatly alarmed them; that as it was their 
custom never to suffer any of the military to enter their territory, they had 
repelled force by force, and should do so again; but in all other respects, they 
professed themselves dutiful, obedient, and loyal subjects to their sovereign, 
the duke of Savoy. the marquis, to delude and surprise the protestants of Roras, 
sent them word that he was perfectly satisfied with their behaviour, for they 
had done right, and even rendered a service to their country, as the men who had 
attempted to pass the defile were not his troops, but a band of desperate robbers, 
who had, for some time, infested those parts, and been a terror to the neighbouring 
country. To give a greater colour to his treachery, he published a proclamation 
to the same purpose, expressive of thanks to the citizens of Roras. The very day 
after, however, this treacherous nobleman sent 500 men to possess themselves of 
the town, while the people, as he thought, were lulled into a security by his 
artifice. Captain Gianavel was not thus to be deceived; he, therefore, laid a 
second ambuscade for the troops, and compelled them to retire with greater loss 
and disgrace than before. Foiled in two attempts, the sanguinary marquess determined 
on a third, which should be Page 266 still more formidable; but still to delude 
the brave citizens, he pub- lished another proclamation, disowning any knowledge 
of the second attempt. He soon after sent 700 chosen men upon the expedition, 
who, in spite of the fire from the protestants, forced the defile, entered Roras, 
and began to murder every person they met with, without distinc- tion of sex or 
age. Captain Gianavel, at the head of his friends, though he had lost the defile, 
determined to dispute the passage through a fortified pass, that led to the richest 
and best part of the town. Here he succeeded, by keeping up a continual fire, 
which did great execution, his men being all complete marksmen. The catholic commander 
was aston- ished and dismayed at this opposition, as he imagined that he had surmounted 
all difficulties. He, however, strove to force the pass, but being able to bring 
up only twelve men in front at a time, and the protestants being secured by a 
breast-work, he saw all his hopes frustrated. Enraged at the loss of so many troops, 
and fearful of disgrace if he persisted in attempting what appeared impracticable, 
he thought it wiser to retreat. Unwilling, however, to withdraw his men by the 
defile at which he had entered, on account of the danger, he endea- voured to 
retreat towards Villaro, by another pass called Piampra, which, though hard of 
access, was easy of descent. Here, however, he again felt the determined bravery 
of captain Gianavel, who having posted his little band here, greatly annoyed the 
troops as they passed, and even pursued their rear till they entered the open 
the country. The marquis Pianessa, finding all these attempts baffled, and that 
every artifice he used was only a signal to the inhabitants of Roras, resolved 
to act openly; and therefore proclaimed, that ample rewards should be given to 
any who would bear arms against the obdurate heretics of Roras, and that any officer 
who would exterminate them should be honoured accordingly. Captain Mario, a bigoted 
Roman catholic, and a desperate ruffian, stimulated by this, resolved to undertake 
the enterprise. He therefore obtained leave to raise a regiment in the towns of 
Lucerne, Borges, Famolas, Bobbio, Cavos, and Begnal. In these places he levied 
a regiment of 1000 men. With this he resolved to attempt gaining the summit of 
a rock, whence he could pour his men into the town without opposition or difficulty. 
But the protestants, aware of his design, suffered his troops to gain almost the 
summit of the rock, without appearing in sight: when they made a most furious 
attack upon them; one party keeping up a well-directed and constant fire, and 
another party rolling down stones of a great weight. Thus were they suddenly stopped 
in their career. Many were killed by the musquetry, and more by the stones, which 
beat them down the precipices. Several fell sacrifices to their own fears, for 
by attempting a precipices retreat, they fell and were dashed to pieces; and captain 
Mario himself, having fallen from a craggy place into a river at the foot of a 
rock, was taken up senseless, and remained ill of the bruises a long time; and 
at length fell into a decline at Lucerne, where he died. After this another body 
of troops from the camp at Villaro made an attempt upon Roras, but were likewise 
defeated, and compelled to retreat again to their camp.Captain Gianavel, Page 
267 for each of these signal victories, made a suitable discourse to his men, 
kneeling down with them to return thanks to the Almighty for his providential 
protection; and concluded with the 11th Psalm. The marquis of Pianessa, now enraged 
to the highest degree at being thus foiled by such a handful of men, determined 
on their expulsion, or destruction. To this end, he ordered all the catholic militia 
of Piedmont to be called out and disciplined. To these he joined eight thousand 
regular troops, and dividing the whole into three distinct bodies, he planned 
that number of formidable attacks to be made at once, unless the people of Roras, 
to whom he sent an account of his great preparations, would comply with the following 
conditions:- To ask pardon for taking up arms. To pay the expenses of all the 
expeditions sent against them. To acknowledge the infallibility of the pope. To 
attend mass. To pray to the saints. To deliver up their ministers and schoolmasters. 
To observe confession. To pay loans for the delivery of souls from purgatory. 
Above all, to give up captain Gianavel and the elders of their church at discretion. 
The brave and magnanimous inhabitants, indignant at these proposals, answered, 
that sooner than comply with them would suffer their estates to be seized; their 
houses to be burnt; and themselves to be murdered. Swelling with rage at this, 
the marquis sent them the following laconic letter:- "You shall have your request, 
for the troops sent against you have strict injunctions to plunder, burn, and 
kill. "Pianessa." The three armies were accordingly put in motion, and the attacks 
ordered as follows: the first by the rocks of Villaro; the second by the pass 
of Bagnol; and the third by the defile of Lucerne. As might be expected, from 
the superiority of numbers, the troops gained the rocks, pass, and defile, entered 
the town, and commenced the most horrid depredations. Men they hanged, burnt, 
and racked to death, or cut to pieces; women they crucified, drowned, or threw 
from a precipice; and children they tossed upon spears, or dashed out their brains. 
On the first day of their gaining the town, one hundred and twenty-six suffered 
by these and other barbarous methods. Agreeably to the orders of the marquis, 
their estates were plundered and their houses burnt. Several protestants, however, 
made their escape, under the conduct of the brave Gianavel, whose wife and children 
were unfortunately made prisoners, and sent to Turin under a strong guard. The 
marquis thinking to conquer at least the mind of Gianavel, wrote him a letter, 
and released a protestant prisoner, that he might carry it to him. The contents 
were, that if the captain would embrace the Roman catholic religion, he should 
be indemni- fied for all his losses since the commencement of the war, his wife 
and children should be immediately released, and himself honourably promoted in 
the duke of Savoy's army; but if he refused to accede to the propo- sals made 
to him, his wife and children should be put to death; and so large a reward should 
be given to take him, dead or alive, that even some of his own confidential friends 
should, from the greatness of the sum, be tempted to betray him. Page 268 To this, 
Gianavel returned the following answer: "My Lord Marquis, "There is no torment 
so great, or death so cruel, that I would not prefer to the abjuration of my religion; 
so that promises lose their effects, and menaces only strengthen me in my faith. 
With respect to my wife and children, my lord, nothing can be more afflicting 
to me than the thought of their confinement, or be more dreadful to my imagination 
than their suffering a violent death. I keenly feel all the tender sensations 
of a husband and a parent; I would suffer any torment to rescue them; I would 
die to preserve them. But having said thus much, my lord, I assure you that the 
purchase of their lives must not be the consolation is, that your power is only 
a temporary authority over their bodies: you may destroy the mortal part, but 
their immortal souls are out of your reach, and will live hereafter, to bear testimony 
against you for your cruelties. I therefore recommend them and myself to God, 
and pray for a reformation in your heart. "Joshua Gianavel." Gianavel now, with 
his followers, retired to the Alps, where, being afterwards joined by several 
protestant officers, with a considerable number of fugitive protestants, they 
resolved to defend themselves, and made several successful attacks upon the Roman 
catholic towns and forces; carrying terror by the valour of their exploits, and 
the boldness of their enterprises.  SECTION VIII.  ACCOUNT OF THE PERSECUTION 
OF MICHAEL DE MOLINOS, A NATIVE OF  SPAIN. Michael de Molinos, by birth 
a Spaniard, and of a rich and honourable family, entered at an early age into 
priest's orders, but would accept of no preferment in the church. His talents 
were of a very superior class, and he dedicated them to the service of his fellow-creatures 
without any view of self-interest. His life was uniformly pious; nor did he assume 
those austerities so common among the religious orders of the Romish church. Being 
of a contemplative turn, he pursued the track of the mystical divines, and having 
acquired great reputation in Spain, he became desirous of propagating his mode 
of devotion, and, accordingly, left his own country, and settled at Rome. Here 
he soon connected him- self with some of the most distinguished among the literati, 
who, approving of his religious maxims, assisted him in promoting them. His followers 
soon augmented to a considerable number, and, from the pecu- liarity of their 
doctrines, were distinguished by the name of Quietists. In 1675, he published 
a book, entitled, Il Guida Spirituale, which soon became know, and was read with 
great avidity, both in Italy and Spain. His fame was now blazed abroad, and friends 
flowed in upon him. Letters were written to him from numbers of people, and a 
correspondence was Page 269 settled between him and those who approved of his 
system, in different parts of Europe. Some secular priests, both at Rome and Naples, 
declared themselves openly for it, and consulted him as a sort of oracle; but 
those who attached themselves to him with the greatest sincerity, were some of 
the fathers of the Oratory, the most eminent of whom were Coloredi, Ciceri, and 
Petrucci. Many of the cardinals also courted his friendship. Among others was 
the cardinal d'Estrees, a man of great learning, who conversed with him daily. 
Molinos opened his mind to his favourite without reserve; which led to a correspondence 
between Molinos and some of the most distinguished characters in France, of which 
the cardinal was a native. The reputation of Molinos now began to alarm the Jesuits 
and Dominicans, who determined to put a stop to the progress of this new system 
of opinions. They, therefore, began to decry the author of it; and as heresy is 
an imputation that makes the strongest impres- sion at Rome, Milinos and his followers 
were stigmatized as heretics. Books were also written by the Jesuits against him 
and his opinions. These Molinos answered with becoming spirit, which increased 
his popu- larity; while his disputes occasioned such a disturbance in Rome, that 
the affair was noticed by the inquisition. Molinos and his book, and father Petrucci, 
who had written some treatises and letters on the same subject, were brought under 
severe examination; and the Jesuits were considered as the accusers. In the course 
of the examination both Moli- nos and Petrucci acquitted themselves so ably, that 
their books were again approved, and the answers which the Jesuits had written 
were censured as scandalous and unbecoming. Petrucci, on this occasion, was so 
highly approved, that he was soon after made bishop of Jesuits. Their books were 
now esteemed more than ever, their system was more followed, and its importance 
as well as novelty contributed to raise the credit, and increase the number of 
their disciples. Thus the great reputation acquired by Molinos and Petrucci, occasioned 
a daily increase of the Quietists. All who were thought sincerely devout, or at 
least affected so to be, were reckoned among the number. These persons, in proportion 
as their zeal increased in their frequent and serious devotions, appeared less 
careful about the exterior parts of the church ceremonies. They were not so assiduous 
at mass, nor so earnest to procure it to be said for their friends; nor were they 
so frequent either in processions, or at confession, or any other outward observances. 
Notwithstanding the approbation expressed for Molino's book by the inquisition 
had checked the open hostility of his enemies, they were still inveterate against 
him in their hearts, and determined if possible to ruin him. They there- fore 
secretly insinuated that he had ill designs, and was an enemy to christianity: 
that under pretence of raising men to a sublime strain of devotion, he intended 
to erase from their minds a sense of the mysteries of religion. Because he was 
a Spaniard, they gave out that he was descended from a Jewish or Mahometan race, 
and that he might carry in his blood, or in his first education, some seeds of 
those doctrines he had since cultivated with no less art than zeal. Thus finding 
himself attacked with such unrelenting malice, Molinos took every necessary Page 
270 precaution to prevent its effect upon the public mind. He wrote a treatise, 
entitled, "Frequent and Daily Communion," which was warmly approved by some of 
the most learned of the Romish clergy. This, with his Spiritual Guide, was printed 
in the year 1765, and in the preface to it he declared, that he had not written 
it with any design to engage in matters of controversy, but by the earnest solicitations 
of many pious people. The Jesuits having again failed in their attempt to crush 
his influence at Rome, applied to the court of France, where they so far succeeded, 
that an order was sent to cardinal d'Estrees, commanding him to prosecute Molinos 
with all possible rigour. The cardinal, notwith- standing his attachment to Molinos, 
resolved to sacrifice friendship to interest. Finding, however, there was not 
sufficient matter for an immediate accusation against him, he determined to supply 
that defect himself. He went to the inquisitors, and informed them of several 
par- ticulars relative both to Molinos and Petrucci, who, with several of their 
friends, were put into the inquisitorial court. On being brought before the judges, 
about the beginning of the year 1684, Petrucci answered the respective questions 
put to him with so much judgment and temper, that he was soon dismissed: but with 
regard to Molinos, though the inquisitors had not any just accusation against 
him, yet they strained every nerve to find him guilty of heresy. They first objected 
to his holding a correspondence in different parts of Europe; but of this he was 
acquitted, as the matter of that correspondence could not be made criminal. They 
then directed their attention to some suspicious papers found in his chamber; 
but he so clearly explained their meaning, that nothing could be made of them 
to his prejudice. At length cardinal d'Estrees, after producing the order sent 
him by the king of France for prosecuting Molinos, said he could convince the 
court of his heresy. He then proceeded to pervert the meaning of some passages 
in Molino's books and papers, and related many false and aggravating circumstances 
rela- tive to the prisoner. He acknowledged he had lived with him under the appearance 
of friendship, but that it was only to discover his princi- ples and intentions; 
that he had found them to be of a bad nature, and that dangerous consequences 
were likely to ensue; but in order to make a full discovery, he had assented to 
several things, which in his heart he detested; and that by these means he became 
master of all his secrets. In consequence of this evidence, Molinos was closely 
confined for some time, during which period all was quiet, and his followers prosecuted 
their course without interruption. But, at the instigation of the Jesuits, a storm 
suddenly broke out upon them with most inveterate fury. The count Vespiniani and 
his lady, Don Paulo Rocchi, confessor to the prince Borghese, and some of his 
family, with several others, to the amount of seventy persons, among whom were 
many highly esteemed both for their learning and piety, were put into the inquisition. 
The accusation laid against the clergy was, their neglecting to say the breviary; 
the rest were accused of going to communion without first attending confes- sion, 
and neglecting all the exterior parts of religion. The countess said, on her examination 
before the inquisitors that she had never revealed her method of devotion to any 
mortal but her confessor, without Page 271 whose treachery it was impossible they 
should know it. That, therefore, it was time to give over going to confession 
if priests thus abused it, betraying the most secret thoughts entrusted to them; 
and that, for the future, she would only make her confession to God. From this 
spirited speech, and the noise made in consequence of the countess's situation, 
the inquisitors thought it most prudent to dismiss both her and her husband, lest 
the people might be incensed, and what she had said might lessen the credit of 
confession. They were therefore both discharged; but bound to appear whenever 
they should be called upon. Such was the inveteracy of the Jesuits against the 
Quietists, that within the space of a month upwards of 200 persons, besides those 
already mentioned, were put into the inquisition; and that method of devotion 
which had passed in Italy as the most elevated to which mortals could aspire, 
was deemed heretical, and the chief promoters of it confined in wretched dungeons. 
To extirpate Quietism, the inquisitors sent a circular letter to cardin- al Cibo, 
as the chief minister, to suppress it through Italy. It was addressed to all prelates, 
informing them that whereas many schools and fraternities were established in 
several parts of Italy, in which some persons, under a pretence of leading people 
into the ways of the Spirit, and to prayers of quietness, instilled into them 
many abominable here- sies; therefore a strict charge was given to dissolve all 
those socie- ties, and to oblige the spiritual guide to tread in the known paths; 
and, in particular, to take care that none of the new sect should be suffered 
to have direction of the nunneries. Orders were likewise given to proceed criminally 
against those who should be found guilty of such abominable errors. A strict enquiry 
was made after this into all the nunneries in Rome; when most of their directors 
and confessors were discovered to be engaged in the new pursuits. It was found 
that the Carmelites, the nuns of the Conception, and those of several other convents, 
wholly devoted themselves to prayer and contemplation; and that, instead of their 
beads, and other ceremonies before saints and images, they were much alone, and 
often in the exercise of mental pray- er: that when they were asked, why they 
had laid aside the use of their beads, and their ancient forms, their answer was 
their directors had advised them to do so. Information of this being given to 
the inquisi- tion, orders were sent that all books written in the same strain 
with those of Molinos and Petrucci should be sequestrated, and that the people 
universally should be compelled to return to their original form of worship. Little 
effect was produced by the circular letter sent to cardinal Cibo, for most of 
the Italian bishops were inclined to Molino's method. It was intended that this, 
as well as all other orders from the inquisitors, should be kept secret; but notwithstanding 
all their care, copies of it were printed, and dispersed through most of the principal 
towns in Italy. This gave great uneasiness to the inquisitors, who adopted every 
method they could to conceal their proceedings from the knowledge of the world. 
They blamed the cardinal, and accused him of being the cause of it: but he retorted 
on them, and his secretary laid the fault on both. In the mean time, Molinos suffered 
great indignities from the officers of the inquisition: and the only comfort he 
received Page 272 was being sometimes visited by father Petrucci. Yet though he 
had lived in the highest reputation at Rome for some years, he was now as much 
despised as he had been admired, being generally considered as one of the worst 
of heretics. Most of his followers, who had been placed in the inquisition, having 
abjured his system, were dismissed; but a harder fate awaited their leader. When 
he had lain a considerable time in prison, he was brought again before the inquisitors, 
to answer to a number of articles exhibited against him from his writings. As 
soon as he appeared in court, a chain was put round his body, and a wax-light 
in his hand, when two friars read aloud the articles of accusation. Molinos answered 
each with great steadiness and resolution; but notwithstanding his arguments defeated 
the force of all that was alleged against him, he was found guilty of heresy, 
and condemned to imprisonment for life. Having left the court he was attended 
by a priest, who had borne him the greatest respect. On his arrival at the prison, 
he entered the cell with great tranquillity; and on taking leave of the priest 
thus addressed him: "Adieu, father; we shall meet again at the day of judgment, 
and then it will appear on which side the truth is, whether on mine or on yours." 
While in confinement he was several times tortured in the most cruel manner, till 
at length the severity of the punishments overpowered his strength and his existence. 
His followers were so affected by his melancholy dissolution, that the greater 
part of them soon abjured his principles; and by the assiduity of the Jesuits, 
Quietism was totally extirpated.  SECTION IX.  ACCOUNT OF THE MARTYRDOM 
OF JOHN CALAS, OF TOULOUSE IN THE YEAR 1761. By this interesting story, the 
truth of which is not only certified in historical records, but the event is still 
fresh in the memory of several persons, natives of Toulouse, we have ample proofs, 
if any were requisite, that the abominable spirit of popish persecution will always 
prevail wherever that religion has an ascendency. The shocking act took place 
in a polished age; and hence it proves, that neither experience nor improvement 
can root out the inveterate prejudices of the Roman catholics, or render them 
less cruel, or exorable, to the protestants. John Calas was a merchant, of the 
city of Toulouse, where he had settled and lived in good repute: he had married 
an English woman of French extraction. He and his wife were both protestants, 
and had five sons whom they educated in the same religion; but Lewis, one of the 
sons, became a Roman catholic, having been converted by a popish servant, who 
had lived in the family above thirty years. The father, however, did not express 
any resentment on the occasion, but kept the servant in the family, and settled 
an annuity upon the son. In October 1761, the family consisted of John Calas and 
his wife, one woman servant, Mark Anthony Calas the eldest son, and Peter Calas 
the second son. Mark Anthony was Page 273 bred to the law, but could not be admitted 
to practice, on account of being a protestant: hence he grew melancholy, read 
all the books which he could procure relative to suicide, and seemed determined 
to destroy himself. To this may be added, that he led a dissipated life, was great- 
ly addicted to gambling, and did all which could constitute the charac- ter of 
a libertine. On this account his father frequently reprehended him, and sometimes 
in terms of severity, which considerably added to the gloom and seemed to oppress 
him. M. Gober La Vaisse, a young gentleman about nineteen years of age, the son 
of La Vaisse, a celebrated advocate of Toulouse, having been some time at Bourdeaux, 
came back to Toulouse to see his father on the 13th of October 1761; but finding 
that he was gone to his countryhouse, at some distance from the city, he went 
to several places endeavouring to hire a horse to carry him thither. No horse, 
however, was to be obtained; and about five o'clock in the even- ing he was met 
by John Calas, the father, invited him to supper, as he could not set out for 
his father's that night, and La Vaisse consented. All three, therefore, proceeded 
to the house together, and when they came thither, finding that Mrs. Calas was 
still in her own room, which she had not quitted that day, La Vaisse went up to 
see her. After the first compliments, he told her he was to sup with her by her 
husband's invitation, at which she expressed her satisfaction, and a few minutes 
after left him, to give orders to her maid. When that was done, she went to look 
for her son Anthony, whom she found sitting alone in the shop, very pensive: she 
gave him some money, and desired him to go and buy some Rochefort cheese, as he 
was a better judge of its quality than any other person in the family. She then 
returned to her guest La Vaisse, who very soon after went again to the livery 
stable, to see if any horse was come in, that he might secure it for the next 
morning. In a short time Anthony returned, having bought the cheese, and La Vaisse 
also coming back about the same time, the family and their guest sat down to supper, 
in a room up one pair of stairs; the whole company consisting of Calas the father 
and his wife, Anthony and Peter Calas the sons, and La Vaisse the guest; no other 
person being in the house, except the maid- servant, who has been mentioned already. 
This was about seven o'clock: the supper was not long; but before it was over, 
or, according to the French expression, "when they came to the desert," Anthony 
left the table, and went into the kitchen, which was on the same floor, as he 
was accustomed. The maid asked him if he was cold? He answered, "Quite the contrary, 
I burn;" and then left her. In the mean time his friend and family left the room 
they had supped in, and went into a bed-chamber: the father and La Vaisse sat 
down together on a sofa; the younger son Peter in an elbow chair; and the mother 
in another chair; and without making any enquiry after Anthony, continued in conversation 
together till between nine and ten o'clock, when La Vaisse took his leave, and 
Peter, who had fallen asleep, was awakened to attend him to the door. There was 
on the ground floor of the house a shop and a warehouse; which were divided from 
each other by a pair of folding-doors. Page 274 When Peter Calas and La Vaisse 
came down stairs into the shop, they were extremely shocked to see Anthony hanging 
in his shirt, from a bar which he had laid across the top of the two folding-doors, 
having half opened them for that purpose. On discovering this horrid spectacle, 
they shrieked out, which brought down Calas the father, the mother being seized 
with a terror which kept her trembling in the passage above. The unhappy old man 
rushed forward, and taking the body in his arms, the bar, to which the rope that 
suspended him was fastened, slipped off from the folding door of the warehouse, 
and fell down. Having placed the body on the ground, he loosed and took off the 
cord in an agony of grief and anguish not to be expressed, weeping, trembling, 
and deploring himself and his child. The two young men, his second son and La 
Vaisse, who had not had presence of mind to attempt taking down the body, were 
standing by, confounded with amazement and horror. Meanwhile the mother, hearing 
the confused cries and complaints of her husband, and finding no one come to her, 
summoned resolution to go down stairs. At the bottom she saw La Vaisse, and hastily 
demanded what was the matter. This question roused Calas in a moment, and instead 
of answering her, he urged her to return to her room, to which, with much reluctance, 
she consented; but the conflict of her mind being such as could not be long borne, 
she sent down the maid to know what was the matter. When the maid discovered what 
had happened, she continued below, either because she feared to carry an account 
of it to her mistress, or because she busied herself in doing some good office 
to her master, who was still embracing the body of his son, and bathing it with 
his tears. The mother again went down and mixed in the scene, with such emotions 
as it must naturally produce. In the mean time Peter had sent for La Moire, a 
surgeon in the neighbourhood. La Moire was not at home, but his apprentice, named 
Grosse, came in- stantly. Upon examination, he found the body quite dead; and 
on taking off the neckcloth, which was of black taffata, he saw the mark of the 
cord, and immediately pronounced that the deceased had been strangled. This particular 
had not been told, for the poor old man, when Peter was going for La Moire, cried 
out, "Save at least the honour of my family; do not go and spread a report that 
your brother has made away with himself." A crowd of people was by this time gathered 
about the house, and one Casing, with another friend or two of the family, had 
come in. Some of those who were in the street had heard the cries and exclama- 
tions of the father, the mother, the brother, and his friend, before they knew 
what was the matter; and having by some means heard that Anthony Calas was suddenly 
dead, and that the surgeon, who had examined the body, declared he had been strangled, 
they took it into their heads he had been murdered: and as the family were protestants, 
they presently supposed that the young man was about to change his religion, and 
had been put to death for that reason. The cries they had heard they fancied were 
those of the deceased, while he was resisting the violence that was offered him. 
The tumult in the street increased every moment: some said that Anthony Calas 
was to have abjured the next day; others, that prot- estants are bound by their 
religion to strangle their children when they Page 275 are inclined to become 
catholics; others, who had found out that La Vaisse was in the house when the 
accident happened, confidently affirmed that the protestants, at their last assembly, 
appointed a person to be their common executioner upon these occasions and that 
La Vaisse was the man, who, in consequence of the office to which he had been 
appointed, had come to the house of Calas to hang his son. The poor father, over- 
whelmed with grief for the loss of his child, was advise by his friends to send 
for the officers of justice to prevent his being torn to pieces by the multitude, 
who supposed that he had murdered him. This was accordingly done: a messenger 
was dispatched to the first magistrate of the place, and another to an inferior 
officer called an assessor. The first had already set out, having been alarmed 
by the rumour of a murder before the messenger got to the house. He entered with 
forty soldiers, took the father, Peter the son, the mother, La Vaisse, and the 
maid, all into custody, and set a guard over them. He sent for M. de la Tour, 
a physician, and M. la Marque and Perronet, surgeons, who examined the body for 
marks of violence, but found none except the mark of the liga- ture on the neck: 
they found also the hair of the deceased done up in the usual manner, perfectly 
smooth, and without the least disorder; his clothes were also regularly folded 
up, and laid upon the counter, nor was his shirt either unbuttoned or torn. The 
chief magistrate, not- withstanding these appearances, thought proper to agree 
with the opinion of the mob, and took it into his head that old Calas had sent 
for La Vaisse, telling him he had a son to be strangled; that La Vaisse had come 
to perform the office of executioner; and that he had received assistance from 
the father and brother. On account of these notions the magistrate ordered the 
body of the deceased to be carried to the town- house, with the clothes. The father 
and son were thrown into a dark dungeon; and the mother, La Vaisse, the maid and 
Casing, were imprisoned in one that admitted the light. The next day, what is 
called the process verbal was taken at the town-house, instead of the spot where 
the body was found, as the law directs; but was dated at Calas's house to conceal 
the irregularity. This process is somewhat like the coroner's inquest in England: 
witnesses are examined, and the magistrate makes his report, which is the same 
there as the verdict of the coroner's jury here. The witnesses examined were the 
physician and surgeon, who proved Anthony Calas to have been strangled. The surgeon 
having been ordered to examine the stomach of the deceased, deposed that the food 
which was found there had been taken four hours before his death. Finding that 
no proof of the murder could be procured, the magistrate had recourse to a monitory, 
or general information, in which the crime was taken for granted, and all persons 
were required to give such testimony against it as they were able, particularizing 
the points to which they were to speak. The recital was that La Vaisse was commissioned 
by the protes- tants to be their executioner in ordinary, when any of their children 
were to be put to death for changing their religion: it said also, that when the 
protestants thus kill their children, they compel them to kneel, and one of the 
interrogatories was, whether any person had seen Anthony Calas kneel before his 
father when he strangled him: it added Page 276 that Anthony Calas died a Roman 
catholic, and required evidence of his catholicism. These ridiculous opinions 
being adopted and published by the principal magistrate of a considerable city, 
the church of Geneva thought itself obliged to send an attestation of its abhorrence 
of opinions so abominable and absurd, and of its astonishment that the family, 
or any protestants, should be suspected of such opinions by persons whose rank 
and office required them to have more knowledge and better judgment. However, 
before this monitory was published, the mob had got a notion, that Anthony Calas 
was the next day to have entered into the fraternity of the White Penitents. The 
magistrate immediately adopted this opinion without the least examination,and 
ordered Anthony's body to be buried in the middle of St. Stephen's church, which 
was accordingly done; forty priests, and all the white penitents, assisting in 
the funeral procession. A short time after the interment of the deceased, the 
white penitents performed a solemn service for him in their chapel: the church 
was hung with white, and a tomb was raised in the centre, on the top of which 
was placed a human skeleton, holding in one hand a paper, on which was written, 
"Abjuration of heresy," and in the other a palm, the emblem of martyrdom. The 
Franciscans performed a service of the same kind for him the next day; and it 
is easy to imagine how much the minds of the people were inflamed by this strange 
folly of their magistrates and priests. The magistrates continued the prosecution 
with unrelenting severity; and though the grief and distraction of the family, 
when he first came to the house, were almost sufficient to have convinced any 
reasonable being that they were not the authors of the event which they deplored, 
yet having publicly attested that they were guilty in his monitory, without proof, 
and no proof coming in, he thought fit to condemn the unhappy father, mother, 
brother, friend, and servant, to the torture, and put them all into irons on the 
18th of November. Casing was enlarged upon evidence that he was not in Calas's 
house till after Anthony was dead. From these dreadful proceedings the sufferers 
appealed to the parliament, which immediately took cognizance of the affair, and 
annulled the sentence of the magistrate as irregular; but the prosecution still 
continued. So soon as the trial came on, the public executioner, who had been 
taken to Calas's house, and shewn the folding-doors and the bar, deposed that 
it was impossible Anthony should have hanged himself as was declared. Another 
witness swore, that he looked through the keyhole of the door into a room, where 
he saw men running hastily to and fro. A third swore, that his wife had told him 
a woman named Maundril had told her, that a certain woman unknown had asserted 
she heard the cries of Anthony Calas at the further end of the city. From this 
ridiculous evidence the majority of the parliament were of opinion that the prisoners 
were guilty, and therefore ordered them to be tried by the criminal court of Toulouse. 
There was among those who presided at the trial one La Borde, who had zealously 
opposed the popu- lar prejudices; and though it was manifest to demonstration 
that the Page 277 prisoners were either all innocent or all guilty, he voted that 
the father should first suffer the torture, ordinary and extraordinary, to discover 
his accomplices, and be then broken alive upon the wheel; to receive the last 
stroke when he had endured two hours, and then to be burnt to ashes. In this opinion 
he had the concurrence of six others; three were for the torture alone; two were 
of opinion that they should endeavour to ascertain upon the spot whether Anthony 
could hang himself or not; and one voted to acquit the prisoner. After long debate 
the majority were for the torture and wheel, and probably condemned the father 
by way of experiment, to know whether he was guilty or not, hoping he would in 
the agony confess the crime, and accuse the other prisoners, whose fate remained 
suspended. It is, however, certain that if they had evidence against the father 
to justify the sentence pro- nounced against him, that very evidence would have 
justified the same sentence against the rest; and that they could not righteously 
condemn him, as the rest were in the house together when Anthony died. All concurred 
in declaring he hanged himself, that the persons accused could have had no motive 
to do such an act, nor could one have put him to death by violence without the 
knowledge of the rest. However, poor Calas, who was sixty-eight years of age, 
was condemned to this dreadful punishment alone. He suffered the torture with 
great constancy, and was led to execution in a frame of mind which excited the 
admiration of all who saw him. Father Bourges and father Coldagues, the two Dominicans, 
who attended him in his last moments, wished their latter end might be like his, 
and declared that they thought him, not only wholly innocent of the crime laid 
to his charge, but an exemplary instance of true christian patience, charity, 
and fortitude. He gave but a single shriek, and that not very violent, when he 
received the first stroke; after that he uttered no complaint. Being at length 
placed on the wheel, to wait for the moment which was to end his life and his 
misery togeth- er, he expressed himself with an humble hope of a happy immortality, 
and a compassionate regard for the judges who had condemned him. When he saw the 
executioner prepared to give him the last stroke, he made a fresh declaration 
of his innocence to father Bourges; but while the words were yet in his mouth, 
the magistrate, the author of this catastrophe, and who came upon the scaffold 
to gratify his desire of being a witness to the punishment and death, ran up to 
him and bawled out, "Wretch, there are the fagots which are to reduce your body 
to ashes; speak the truth." M. Calas made no reply, but turned his head a little 
aside, and that moment the executioner did his office. Donat Calas, a boy of fifteen 
years of age, and the youngest son of the unfortunate victim, was ap- prenticed 
to a merchant at Nismes, when he heard of the dreadful punish- ment by which seven 
prejudiced judges of Toulouse had put his worthy father to death. He was an amiable 
and serious youth, and nothing could exceed his grief at the event, except the 
resignation he evinced on finding with what innocence as well as fortitude his 
holy parent suf- fered death. So violent was the popular outcry against his family 
in Page 278 Languedoc, that every one expected to see the children broke upon 
the wheel, and the mother burnt alive. Even the attorney-general expected it. 
So weak, it is said, had been the defence made by this innocent family, oppressed 
by misfortunes, and terrified at the sight of lighted piles, racks, and wheels. 
Donat Calas was made to dread sharing the fate of the rest of his family, and 
advised to fly into Switzerland: he found a gentleman who at first could only 
pity and relieve him, without daring to judge of the rigour exercised against 
his parents and brothers. Shortly after, one of the brothers, who was only banished, 
likewise threw himself into the arms of the same person, who, for more than a 
month, took every possible precaution to be assured of the innocence of this family. 
When he was once convinced, he thought himself obliged in conscience to employ 
his friends, his purse, his pen, and his credit, to repair the fatal mistake of 
the seven judges of Toulouse, and to have the proceedings revised by the king's 
counsel. The revision lasted three years, and it is well known what honour Messrs. 
de Gaosne and Baquancourt acquired by defending and reporting this memorable cause. 
Fifty masters of the Court of Requests unanimously declared the whole family of 
Calas innocent, and recommended them to the benevolent justice of his majesty. 
The duke de Choiseul, who never let slip an opportunity of signalizing the greatness 
of his character, not only assisted them with money, but obtained for them a gratuity 
of 36,000 livres from the king. The arrest which justified the family of Calas, 
and changed their fate, was signed on the 9th of March 1765. The 9th of March 
1762, was the day on which the innocent and virtuous father of that family had 
been executed. All Paris ran in crowds to see the family come out of prison, and 
clapped their hands for joy, while the tears streamed down their cheeks. Such 
a scene had never before been witnessed. There are some few aged persons now living 
in the south of France who were specta- tors, when children, of the sight, and 
it is a subject on which they love to discourse, and on which they are more eloquent 
than on any other. Page 279  BOOK IX. Containing 
a History of the Reformation, and the circumstances which preceded it, from the 
time of Wickliffe to the reign of Mary, including a summary of events connected 
with Christian Martyrdom, previous and subsequent to the reign of William the 
In a preceding part of our volume we traced the influence of popery over the continent 
and in our own kingdom, down to the reign of the vicious and monkish king Edgar, 
who was so great a patron of the reli- gion of the popes, that he is said to have 
built as many monasteries for them as there are Sundays in the year. Ediner reports 
that they were forty-eight in number; but perhaps he does not include the nunneries. 
It is certain that from this period till the reformation was attempted by Wickliffe, 
the abominations of these arch and unchristian rulers in- creased with rapid strides, 
till at length all the sovereigns of Europe were compelled to do them the most 
servile homage. It was in the reign of Edgar that monks were first made spiritual 
ministers, though contrary to the old decrees and customs of the church, and in 
the time of this sovereign they were allowed to marry, there being no law forbidding 
them to do so till the reign of pope Hildebrand, other wise called Gregory VII. 
There are many curious facts relating to king Edgar, mentioned by the early writers, 
some of which we shall quote, because they are not to be found in our principal, 
if in any of our histories of England. He was the successor of Alfred, and though 
he imitated that great sovereign in some praise-worthy actions, yet he committed 
many horrid crimes, which have stained his name with infamy. His decree by which 
he compelled Ludwallus, prince of Wales, to furnish 300 wolves as a yearly tribute, 
is well known, by which, in the course of four years, the wolves were exterminated 
from England, and he also set many other notable examples, which it would be well 
for all nations if modern princes were to im- itate. But in his religion he was 
superstitious to the greatest degree, and consequently cruel to those towards 
whom he had any dislike or antipathy. William of Malmsbury, and various other 
writers, report of him that about the thirteenth year of his reign, being at Chester, 
eight petty or under kings came and did homage to him. The first was the king 
of Scots, called Kinadius, Macolinus of Cumberland, Muckus or Mascusinus king 
of Monia and other Islands, and the kings of Wales, the names of whom were Dunewaldus, 
Sifresh, Huwall, Jacob, Ulkell, and Juchel. All these, after they had given their 
fidelity to Edgar, the next day Page 280 entered with him on the river Dee; where 
sitting in a boat, he took the helm, and caused the eight kings to row him up 
and down the river, to and from the church of St. John, to his palace, in token 
that he was master and lord of so many provinces; and on this occasion he is report- 
ed to have said, "Tunc demun posse successores suos gloriari, se Reges Angliae 
esse, cum tanta praerogativa honorum fruerentur." Undoubtedly he would have spoken 
much better, had he said with St. Paul, "Absit mihi gloriari, nisi in Cruce Domini 
nostri Jesu Christi." To trace the numerous disgusting innovations upon the religion 
of Christ, during the space of three hundred years and upwards, or rather from 
the time of king Edgar to the appearance of Wickliffe, would be the province of 
a writer on church history, besides which, it would be incompatible with our limits. 
Suffice it to say, that there was scarcely a war or civil broil in which this 
country was engaged, which did not originate in the artifices of popes, monks, 
and friars. It is true that they sometimes fell victims to their own machinations; 
for, from the year 1004, many popes were successively poisoned. Several died unnatural 
deaths: for example, pope Sylvester was cut to pieces by his own people, through 
the superstitious fears he had impressed upon their minds. Several of his successors 
used all manner of infamous means to gain the ascendancy, and their reigns were 
but short. Pope Benedict, who succeeded John XXI. thought proper to resist the 
emperor Henry III. the son of Conrad, and place in his room Peter, king of Hungary; 
but afterwards being alarmed lest Henry should prevail in battle, he sold his 
seat to Gratianus, called Gregory VI. for 1500l. At this time there were three 
popes in Rome, all striving against each other for the supreme power, viz. Bene- 
dict IX. Sylvester III. and Gregory VI. On which Henry, the emperor, coming to 
that city, displaced the three at once, and appointed Clement the second, enacting 
that there should no bishop of Rome henceforth be chosen but by the consent and 
confirmation of his imperial law. Though this law was both agreeable and necessary 
for public tranquillity, yet the cardinals would not suffer it long to stand, 
but strove to subvert it by subtlety and open violence. In the time of Clement, 
the Romans made an oath to the emperor concerning the election of the bishops, 
to intermeddle no farther, but as the assent of the emperor should go; but the 
emperor departing thence into Germany again, they forgot their oath, and within 
nine months after poisoned the bishop. This fact, some impute to Stephen his successor, 
called Damasus II. Some impute it to Brazutus, who is reported by some historians 
to have poisoned six popes, viz. Clement II. Damasus II. Leo IX. Victor II. Stephen 
IX. and Nicholas II. Clement was succeeded by Damasus II. neither by consent of 
the people, nor of the emperor, but by force and invasion; and he also within 
twen- ty-three days being poisoned, much contention and striving began in Rome 
about the papal seat. Whereupon the Romans, through the counsel of the cardinals, 
sent to the emperor desiring him to give them a bishop. He gave them one whose 
name was Bruno, an Alman, and bishop of Cullen, afterwards called Leo IX. This 
pope was poisoned by Brazutus, in the Page 281 first year of his popedom. After 
his death Theophylactus made an effort to be pope, but Hilderbrand, to defeat 
him, went to the emperor, and pursuaded him to assign another bishop, a German, 
who ascended the papal chair under the title of Victor II. The second year of 
his papacy, or little more, he also followed his predecessors, being poisoned 
by Brazutus, through the instigation of Hilderbrand and his master. At this time 
the church and the clergy of Rome began to wrest from the emperor's hands the 
election of the pope; electing Stephen IX. contrary to their oath, and the emperor's 
assignment. From this period, indeed, their ascendancy was so great, that the 
most powerful sovereigns of Europe were obliged to do them homage, and it was 
in the time of pope Nicholas, who succeeded Stephen, A.D.1059, that the synod 
of Sutrium was broken up by this pope, who came to Rome and established the dreaded 
Concilium Lateranum, or Council of the Lateran.In this council was first promulgated 
the terrible sentence of excommunication mentioned in the decrees, and beginning 
In nomine Domini nostri. The effect was that he undermined the emperor's jurisdiction, 
and transferred to a few cardin- als, and certain catholic persons, the full authority 
of filling the pontiff chair. Then, against all such as crept into the seat of 
Peter by money, or favour, without the full consent of the cardinals, he thunder 
-ed terrible blasts of excommunication, accursing them and their children with 
the anger of Almighty God; giving authority and power to cardinals, with the clergy 
and laity, to depose all such persons, and call a council-general, wheresoever 
they would, against them. In the council of Lateran, under pope Nicholas II., 
Berengarius Andegavensis, and archdeacon, was driven to the recantation of his 
doctrine, denying the real substance of Christ's holy body and blood to be in 
the sacra- ment, otherwise than sacramentally and in mystery. In the same council 
also was invented the doctrine and term of transubstantiation. Nicho- half, and 
then drank of Brazutus's cup, like his predecessors. At the beginning of his reign 
or somewhat before, about the year of our Lord 1057, Henry the fourth was made 
emperor, being but a child, and reigned fifty years; but not without great molestation 
and much disquietness; for in the course of time, when Hildebrand came to the 
popedom, he had the audacity to excommunicate him, and absolve all his subjects 
from their oath of allegiance to him. On this all his nobles, through fear of 
the pope's curse, deserted him; and the emperor dreading the consequenc- es that 
would ensue, though a brave man, found it necessary to make his submission. He 
accordingly repaired to the city of Canosus, where the pope then was, and went 
barefooted with his wife and child to the gate, where he from morning to night, 
fasting all the day, most humbly desired absolution, craving to be let in to the 
bishop. But no ingress being given him he continued three days together in his 
condition: at length answer came that the pope's majesty had yet no leisure to 
talk with him. The emperor, moved that he was not let into the city, patient and 
with an humble mind stopped without the walls, with no little distress; for it 
was a sharp winter, and the ground was frozen. At length his request was granted 
through the entreating of Matilda, the pope's paramour, and of Arelaus, earl of 
Sebaudia, and the abbot of Cluniak. On the fourth Page 282 day being let in, as 
a token of his repentance he yielded to the pope's hands his crown, with all other 
imperial ornaments, and confessed him- self unworthy of the empire, if ever he 
did against the pope hereafter, as he had done before, desiring for that time 
to be absolved and forgi- ven. The pope answered that he would neither forgive, 
nor release the bond of his excommunication, but upon condition that he should 
be content to stand to his arbitrement in the council, and to take such penance 
as he should enjoin him; also that he should be ready to appear in what place 
or time the pope should appoint him. Moreover, that he, being content to take 
the pope judge of his cause, should answer in the council to all objections and 
accusations laid against him, and that he should never seek any revenge; that 
he should stand to the pope's mind and pleasure whether to have his kingdom restored, 
or to lose it. Final- ly, that before the trial of his cause, he should neither 
use his kingly ornaments, sceptre nor crown; nor usurp authority to govern, nor 
exact any oath of allegiance from his subjects. These things being promised to 
the bishop by an oath, and put in writing, the emperor was released from excommunication. 
After the death of Hildebrand came pope Victor, who was set up by Matilda and 
the duke of Normandy, with the faction and retinue of Hildebrand. But his papal 
authority was brief, for being poisoned, it is said in his chalice, he reigned 
only one year and a half. Notwith- standing, the imitation and example of Hildebrand 
continued in them that followed. And as the kings of Israel followed the steps 
of Jeroboam till the time of their desolation; so for the greatest part of all 
popes followed the steps and proceedings of Hildebrand, their spiritual Jero- 
boam, in maintaining false worship, and chiefly in upholding the dignity of the 
see against all rightful authority, and the lawful kingdom of Christ. In the time 
of Victor began the order of the monks of the Charter-house, through the means 
of one Hugo, bishop of Gracianople, and of Bruno, bishop of Cologne. In the time 
of pope Honorius the second, a christian preacher named Arnulphus was martyred 
at Rome. Some say he was arch-bishop of Lugdune, as Hugo, Platina, Sabellicus. 
Tritemius says he was a priest, whose history, as he describes it, we will briefly 
give in English:- About this time, in the days of Honorius the second, one Arnulphus, 
a priest, a man zealous and of great devotion, and a worthy preacher, came to 
Rome, and in his preaching rebuked the dissolute and lascivious looseness and 
incontinency, avarice and immoderate pride of the clergy, provoking all to follow 
Christ and his apostles rather in their poverty and pureness of life. Thus this 
man was well accepted, and highly liked of the nobility of Rome, for a true disciple 
of Christ; but by the cardinals and clergy he was no less hated than favoured 
by the other, insomuch that privily in the night they took him and destroyed him. 
His martyrdom is said to have been revealed to him before from God by an angel, 
he being in the desert, when he was sent forth to preach; whereupon he said unto 
them publicly, "I know ye seek my life, and know you will take me away privily: 
but why? Because I preach to you the truth, and blame your pride, stoutness, avarice, 
incontinency, with your unmeasurable greediness in getting and heaping up riches; 
therefore you Page 283 are displeased with me. I take heaven and earth to witness, 
that I have preached unto you that which I was commanded of the Lord. But you 
contemn me and your Creator, who by his only Son hath redeemed you. And no marvel 
if you seek my death, being a sinful person, preaching unto you the truth, when 
if St. Peter were here this day and rebuked your vices which so multiply above 
measure, you would not spare him." And as he was expressing this, with a loud 
voice he said moreover: "For my part I am not afraid to suffer death for the truth's 
sake: but this I say unto you, that God will look upon your iniquities, and will 
be revenged. You, being full of all impurity, play the blind guides to the people 
committed unto you, leading them the way to hell." Thus the hatred of the clergy 
being incensed against him for preaching truth, they con- spired against him, 
and laying wait for him, took him and drowned him. Sabellicus and Platana say 
they hanged him. We shall close our accounts of the ascendancy of the popes with 
one more remarkable fact of history. In the time of pope Innocent, king John of 
England, alarmed at the offence he had given to the see of Rome, and fearful of 
the invasion which the infamy of that see had excited against him, entreated for 
peace with the pope, and promised to do whatever he should command him. On this 
the pope sent his legate Pandulph to the king at Canterbury, where he waited their 
coming, and on the 13th day of May the king re- ceived them, making them an oath, 
"That of and for all things wherein he stood accursed, he would make ample restitution 
and satisfaction; and the lords and barons of England who were with the king attending 
the legate sware in like manner, that if the king would not accomplish in every 
thing the oath which he had taken, then they would cause him to hold and confirm 
the same whether he would or not." Then the king himself submitted to the court 
of Rome and the pope, and gave up his dominions and realms of England and Ireland 
from him and from his heirs for evermore. With this condition, that the king and 
his heirs should take again these dominions of the pope to farm, paying for them 
yearly to the court of Rome 1000 marks of silver. Then the king took the crown 
from his head, kneeling down in the presence of all his lords and barons of England 
to Pandulph, the pope's chief legate, saying, "Here I resign the crown of the 
realm of England to the pope's hands, Innocent the third, and put me wholly in 
his mercy and ordinance." Then Pandulph took the crown of king John, and kept 
it five days as a possession of the realms of England and Ireland. This humiliating 
ceremony took place, some say at the Ewell monastery between Canterbury and Dover; 
others, at the monastery of St. John, then standing in all its glory at the extreme 
point of Dover, opposite the coast of France. The latter is the more probable, 
as it was the greater establishment; and more likely from its situation and celebrity 
to be chosen as the scene of this papal parade and disgraceful royal resignation. 
It was not to be expected that after this submission the king was freed from popish 
influence; on the con- trary, he was surrounded by monks in the interest of foreign 
countries, who did every thing they could to degrade and dishonour him. He died 
in Page 284 the year 1216, after an imbecile reign of eighteen years, and historians 
differ as to the manner of his death, some asserting that he died of an inflammation, 
others of a flux, while the fact generally believed is, that he was poisoned, 
as we shall presently shew. It is recorded in the chronicle of William Caxton, 
called Fructus Temporum, that a monk named Simon, being much offended with a talk 
that the king had at his table, concerning Ludovic the French king's son, began 
to speculate how he most speedily might destroy him. First he counselled with 
his abbot, shewing him the whole matter, and what he was minded to do. He alleged 
for himself the prophecy of Caiaphas, saying - "It is better that one man die, 
than all the people should perish." "I am well contented," he added, "to lose 
my life, and so become a martyr, that I may utterly destroy this tyrant." With 
that the abbot wept for gladness, and much commended his fervent zeal. The monk 
then being absolved by the abbot for doing this act, went secretly into a garden 
near at hand, and finding there a venomous toad, he so pricked him and pressed 
him with his pen-knife, that he made him vomit all the poison that was within 
him. This done, he conveyed it into a cup of wine, and with a smiling and flattering 
countenance said thus to the king - "If it should like your princely majesty, 
here is such a cup of wine as ye never drank better before in all your life-time: 
I trust this draught shall make all England glad." With that the king drank a 
great draught thereof, pledging him. The monk soon after went to the farmery, 
and there is reported to have perished by a dreadful death. However, he had continu- 
ally from thenceforth three monks to sing mass for his soul, confirmed by their 
general chapter. The king within a short space after feeling great pain in his 
body, asked for Simon the monk; and answer was made that he had departed this 
life. "Then God have mercy upon me," answered the king; "I suspected as much, 
after he had said that all England should be glad." In Gisburne, we find, that 
dissenting from others he says that the king was poisoned with a dish of pears, 
which the monk had prepared for him on purpose; and asking the king whether he 
would taste of his fruit, and being bid to bring them in, did so. At the bringing 
in whereof the king doubting some poison, demanded for the monk what he had brought. 
He said, some fruit, and that very good, the best that ever he did taste. "Eat," 
said the king; and he took one of the pears which he knew, and did eat. Being 
bid to take another, he ate that also, and so likewise a third. Then the king, 
refraining no longer, took one of the other pears, and was poisoned. Equally vindictive 
were the different popes towards the other christian sovereigns of Europe, but 
particularly those of Germany, one of whom, the valiant emperor Frederic, was 
compelled to submit to be stepped on by the feet of pope Alexander, and dared 
not make any resistance. In England, however, a spirit of resentment broke out 
in various reigns, in consequence of the papal oppressions, which continued with 
more or less violence till the exertions of the great Wickliffe, about whom we 
shall speak in the following section. Previous, however, to this time, there were 
several martyrdoms of religious men in England, though the cruel- ties inflicted 
on them did not arise so much from their sacred character Page 285 as from the 
political motives which caused the invasions and insurrec- tions. The massacre 
of the monks of Bangor, A.D. 856, was a dreadful instance of barbarity under the 
Saxon government. These monks were in most respects different from those who bear 
the name at present. Though catholics, they were generally pious and holy men. 
The Danes landing in different parts of Britain, both in England and Scotland, 
in the eighth century, were at first repulsed; but in A.D. 857, a party of them 
landed near Southampton, and not only robbed the people, but murdered the clergy 
and burnt the churches. These barbarians penetrated into the centre of England, 
and took up their quarters at Nottingham in 868; but the English, under their 
king Ethelfred, drove them from those posts, and obliged them to retire into Northumberland. 
In the year 870, another body of these barbarians landed in Norfolk, and engaged 
in battle with the English at Hertford. Victory declared in favour of the pagans, 
who took Edmund king of the east Angles prisoner, and after treating him with 
a thousand indignities, transfixed his body with arrows, and then beheaded him. 
They burnt many of the churches, and among the rest that belonging to the Caldees 
at St. Andrew's, in Fifeshire, Scotland. The piety of this order of men made them 
objects of abhorrence to the Danes, who, wherever they went, singled out their 
priests for destruction, of whom no less than 200 were massacred in Scotland. 
Similar scenes took place in that part of Ireland now called Leinster; there the 
Danes murdered and burnt the priests alive in their own churches; they carried 
destruction wherever they went, sparing neither age nor sex; but the clergy were 
the most obnoxious to them, because they exposed their idolatry, and persuaded 
the people to have nothing to do with them. These Danish incursions and cruelties 
continued with greater or less force till the conquest, when new scenes arrested 
the public attention, and the pious ministers and members of the christian church 
had to contend with new enemies.  SECTION II. HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH 
OF WICKLIFFE AND HIS DOCTRINES. The first serious attempts made in England towards the reformation of the church, took place in the reign of Edward III. about A.D. 1350, when the morning star of that glorious day arose in our hemisphere - JOHN WICKLIFFE. He was public reader of divinity in the university of Oxford, and, by the learned of his day, was accounted most deeply versed in theology and all kinds of philosophy. This even his adversaries allowed. Walden, his bitterest enemy, writing to pope Martin, says, that he was astonished at his most strong arguments, with the places of authority which he had gathered, with the vehemency and force of his reasons. At his appearing, the greatest darkness pervaded the church. Little but the name of Christ remained among the Christians, while his true and lively doctrine was as far unknown unto the most part, as his name was common Page 286 unto all men. As touching faith, consolation, the end and use of the the law, the office of Christ, of our impotency and weakness, of the Holy Ghost, of the greatness and strength of sin, of true works, grace, and free justification by faith, wherein consisteth and resteth the sum and matter of our profession, there was scarcely the mention of a word. Scripture, learning, and divinity, were known but to a few, and in the schools only, and there it was turned and converted almost entirely into sophistry. Instead of Peter and Paul, men occupied their time in study- ing Aquinas and Scotus, and the master of sentences. The world leaving and forsaking the lively power of God's spiritual word and doctrine, was altogether led and blinded with outward ceremonies and human traditions, wherein the whole scope, in a manner, of all christian perfection did consist and depend. In these was all the hope of obtaining salvation fully fixed: hereunto all things were attributed. Scarcely any other thing was seen in the temples or churches, taught or spoken of in ser- mons, or finally intended or gone about in their whole life, but only heaping up of certain shadowed ceremonies upon ceremonies; and the people were taught to worship no other thing but that which they saw, and almost all they saw they worshipped. The christian faith was at that time counted none other thing but that every man should know that Christ once suffered, that is to say, that all men should know and understand that thing which the devils themselves also knew. Hypocrisy was substituted for holiness. All men were so addicted to outward shews, that even they which professed the most absolute and singular knowledge of the scriptures, scarcely understood any other thing. And this did evidently appear, not only in the common sort of doctors and teachers, but also in the very heads of the church; whose whole religion and piety consisted in observing days, meats, and rainment, and such like rhetori- cal circumstances, as of place, time, person, &c. Hence sprang so many sorts and fashions of vestures and garments; so many differences of colours and meats, with so many pilgrimages to several places, as though St. James at Compostella could do that which Christ could not do at Canterbury; or else that God were not of like power and strength in every place, or could not be found but as being sought for by running hither and thither. Then the holiness of the whole year was put off unto the Lent season. No country or land was counted holy, but only Pales- tine, where Christ had walked himself with his human feet. Such was the blindness of that time, that men strove and fought for the material cross at Jerusalem, as it had been for the chief strength of our faith. The Romish champions never ceased, by writings, admonishing and coun- selling, yea, and by quarrelling, to move and stir up princes to war and battle, even as though the faith and belief of the gospel were of small force or little effect without that wooden appendage. This was the cause of the expedition of king Richard unto Jerusalem; who being taken in the journey, and delivered unto the emperor, could scarcely be ransomed home again for thirty thousand marks. Wickliffe boldly published his belief with regard to the several articles of religion, in which he differed from the common doctrine. Pope Gregory XI. hearing this, condemned some Page 287 of his tenets, and commanded the archbishop of Canterbury, and the bishop of London, to oblige him to subscribe the condemnation of them; and in case of refusal to summon him to Rome. This commission could not easily be executed, Wickliffe having great friends, the chief of whom was John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, who enjoyed very great power, and was resolved to protect him. The archbishop holding a synod at St. Paul's, Wickliffe appeared, accompanied by the duke of Lancaster and lord Percy, marshal of England, when a dispute arising whether Wickliffe should answer sitting or standing, the duke of Lancaster proceeded to threats, and gave the bishop very hard words. The people present thinking the bishop in danger, sided with him, so that the duke and the earl-marshal thought it prudent to retire, and to take Wick- liffe with them. Soon after this an insurrection ensued, some incendiaries spreading a report that the duke of Lancaster had persuaded the king to take away the privileges of the city of London; which fires the people to such a degree that they broke open the Marshalsea, and freed all the prisoners; and not contented with this, a number of them went to the duke's palace in the Savoy, when missing his person, they plundered his house, and dragged his armour and weapons through the streets. For this outrage the duke of Lancaster caused the lord mayor and alderment to be turned out, imagining that they had not used their authority to quell the mutineers. After this, the bishops meeting a second time, Wickliffe explained to them his sentiments with regard to the sacrament of the eucharist, in opposition to the belief of the Romanists; for which the bishops only enjoined him silence, not daring at that time to go to greater lengths. A circumstance remarkably providential occurred at this period, which greatly tended to facilitate the cause of truth. This was a wide schism in the church of Rome. After the death of pope Gregory XI., who, in the midst of his anxiety to crush Wickliffe and his doctrines, was removed from his mortal career, the rise of the shcism took place. Urban VI., who succeeded to the papal chair, was so proud and insolent to his cardinals, to dukes, princes, and queens, and so determined to advance his nephews and kindred, to the injury of princes, that the greatest number of his cardinals and courti- ers gradually shrunk from him, and set up another French pope against him, named Clement, who reigned eleven years. After him Benedictus XIII. was elected, who reigned twenty-six years. On the contrary side, Urban VI. succeeded Boniface IX. Innocentius VIII. Gregory XII. Alexander B. and John XIII. Concerning this miserable schism, it would require another Iliad to comprehend in order all its circumstances and tragical parts; what trouble in the whole church, what parts taking in every country, what apprehending and imprisoning of priests and prelates taken by land and sea, and what shedding of blood followed in consequence. Otho, duke of Brunswick and prince of Tarentum, were taken and murdered. Joan his wife, queen of Jerusalem and Sicilia, who before had sent to pope Urban, in addition to other gifts at his coronation, 40,000 ducats in pure gold, was by the said Urban committed Page 288 to prison, and there strangled. Cardinals were racked without mercy, and tormented on gibbets, rather than instantly put to death. Battles were fought between the two popes, whereof 5000 on the one side were slain, besides the number of them which were taken prisoners. The cardinals were beheaded on one day, after long torments. The bishop of Aquilonen- sis, being suspected by pope Urban for not riding faster with the pope, his horse not being good, was slain by the pope sending his soldiers to cut him in pieces. Thus did these demons in human form continue to torment one another for the space of thirty-nine years, until the coun- cil of Constance somewhat appeased their wrath. Wickliffe paid less regard to the injunctions of the bishops than to his duty to God, con- tinued to promulgate his doctrines, and gradually to unveil the truth to the eyes of men. He wrote several works, which, as may be supposed, gave great alarm and offence to the existing clergy. But by the protection of the duke of Lancaster, he was secure from their malice. He translated the Bible into English, which, amidst the ignorance of the time, had the effect of the sun breaking forth in a dark night. To this Bible he prefixed a bold preface, wherein he reflected on the bad lives of the clergy, and condemned the worship of saints, images, and the corporeal presence of Christ in the sacrament: but what offended his enemies most was, his exhorting all people to read the Scriptures, in which testimo- nies against those corruptions appeared so strongly, that the only way to prevent their being blazoned to the world was not to permit the sacred writings to be translated or known. About the same time fell a dissension in England between the people and the nobility, which did not a little disturb the common-wealth. In this tumult Simon of Sudbury, archbishop of Canterbury, was taken by the people and beheaded. In his place succeeded William Courtenay, who was no less diligent than his predecessor had been, in doing his utmost to root out heretics. Notwith- standing this formidable opposition Wickliffe's sect increased privily, and daily grew to greater force, until the time that William Barton, vice-chancellor of Oxford, had the whole rule of that university, who, calling together eight monastical doctors, and four others, with the consent of the rest of his affinity, put the common seal of the univers- ity to an edict, declaring unto every man, and threatening them under a grievous penalty, that none should hereafter associate themselves with any of Wickliffe's favourers. Unto Wickliffe himself he threatened the greater excommunication, and farther imprisonment, unless after three days canonical admonition or warning he did repent and amend; which when Wickliffe understood, forsaking the pope and all the clergy, he thought to appeal unto the king; but the duke of Lancaster interposing forbad him; whereby, being beset with troubles and vexations, as it were in the midst of the waves, he was to avoid the rigour of things, he by qualify- ing his assertions, mitigated the severity he would otherwise have met with. In consequence of Wickliffe's translation of the Bible and of his preface, his followers greatly multiplied. Many of them, indeed, were not men of learning; but being wrought upon by the conviction of plain reason, this determined them in their persuasion. In a short time Page 289 his doctrines made great progress, being not only espoused by vast numbers of the students of Oxford, but also by the great men at court, particularly by the duke of Lancaster and lord Percy, together with several young and well educated gentlemen. Hence Wickliffe may be com- sidered as the great founder of the reformation in this kingdom. He was of Merton college in Oxford, where he took his doctor's degree, and became so eminent for his fine genius and great learning, that Simon Islip, archbishop of Canterbury, having founded Canterbury college, now Christ Church, in Oxford, appointed him rector: which employment he filled with universal approbation, till the death of the archbishop. Langhalm, successor to Islip, being desirous of favouring the monks, and introducing them into the college, attempted to remove Wickliffe, and to put one Woodhall, a monk, in his room. But the fellows of the college would never consent to this, they loving their old rector; but this affair being afterwards carried to Rome, Wickliffe was deprived in favour of Woodhall. However, this no ways lessened the reputation of the reformer, every one perceiving it was a general affair, and that the monks did not so much strike at Wickliffe's person, as at all the secu- lar priests who were members of the college. And indeed, they were all turned out to make room for the monks. Shortly after he was presented to the living of Lutterworth, in the county of Leicester, and he there published, in his sermons and writings, certain opinions, which were judged new, because contrary to the received doctrine of those days. It must be observed, that his most bitter enemies never charged him with any immorality. This great man was left in quiet at Lutterworth till his death, which happened December 31, 1385. But after his body had lain in the grave forty-one years, his bones were taken up by decree of the synod of Constance, publicly burnt, and his ashes thrown into the river near the town. This condemnation of his doctrine did not prevent its spreading all over the kingdom, and with such success, that, according to spelman, two men could not be found together, and one not a Lollard or Wickliffe. The following are among the articles of Wickliffe which were condemned as heretical: The substance of material bread and wine doth remain in the sacrament of the altar after the consecration - The accidents do not remain without the subjects in the same sacrament, after the consecration - Christ is not in the sacrament of the altar truly and really, in his proper and corporeal person - If a bishop of a priest be in deadly sin, he doth not ordain, consecrate, nor baptize - If a man be duly and truly contrite and penitent, all exterior and other confession is but superfluous and unprofitable unto him - It is not found or established by the gospel that Christ did make or ordain mass - If the pope be a reprobate and evil man, and consequently a member of the devil, he hath no power by any manner of means given unto him over faithful Christians - Since the time of Urban VI. there is none to be received for pope, but every man is to live after the manner of the Greeks, under his own law - It is against the Scripture, that ecclesias- tical ministers should have any temporal possessions - No prelate ought to excommunicate any man except he knew him first to be excommunicate of God - He who doth so excommunicate any man, is thereby himself either a Page 290 heretic or excommunicated - All such who leave off preaching or hearing the word of God, or preaching the gospel for fear of excommunication, they are already excommunicated, and in the day of judgment shall be counted as traitors unto God - It is lawful for any man, either deacon or priest, to preach the word of God without authority or licence of the apostolic see or any other of his catholics - So long as a man is in deadly sin, he is neither bishop nor prelate in the church of God. Wickliffe had written divers works, which in the year 1410 were burnt at Oxford, the abbot of Shrewsbury being then commissary. And not only in England, but in Bohemia likewise, his books were set on fire by one Subinicus, archbishop of Prague, who made diligent inquisition for all the reformer had written. The number of the volumes composed and tran- scribed, said to have been destroyed, were most excellently and richly adorned with bosses of gold, and embellished coverings, being about the number of two hundred. But among all that he wrote no piece is more interesting for its size than the following letter, which he addressed to pope Urban VI. in the year 1382. "Verily I do rejoice to open and declare unto every man the faith which I do hold, and specially unto the bishop of Rome; the which forasmuch as I do suppose to be sound and true, he will most willingly confirm my said faith, or, if it be errone- ous, amend the same. "First, I suppose that the gospel of Christ is the whole body of God's law; and that Christ which did give that same law himself, I believe to be a very man, and in that point, to exceed the law of the gospel, and all other parts of the scripture. Again, I do give and hold the bishop of Rome, forsomuch as he is the vicar of Christ here in earth, to be bound most of all other men unto that law of the gospel. For the greatness among Christ's disciples did not consist in worldly dignity or honours, but in the near and exact following of Christ in his life and manners: whereupon I do gather out of the heart of the law of the Lord, that Christ for the time of his pilgrimage here was a most poor man, abjecting and casting off all worldly rule and honour, as appeareth by the gospel of St. Matthew, the eighth chapter, and the second of the Corinthians, the eighth chapter. "Hereby I do fully gather, that no faithful man ought to follow either the pope himself, or any of the holy men, but in such points as they have followed the Lord Jesus. For Peter and the sons of Zebedee, by desiring worldly honour, contrary to the following of Christ's steps, did offend, and therefore in those errors they ought not to be followed. "Hereof I do gather, as a counsel, that the pope ought to leave unto the secular power all temporal dominion and rule, and thereunto, effectually to move and exhort his whole clergy; for so did Christ, and especially by his apostles. Wherefore if I have erred in any of these points, I will most humbly submit myself unto correction, even by death if necessity so require; and if I could labour according to my will or desire in mime own person, I would surely present myself before the bishop of Rome; but the Lord hath otherwise visited me to the con- trary, and hath taught me rather to obey God than man. Forsomuch then as Page 291 God hath given unto the pope just and true evangelical instinctions, we ought to pray that they be not extinguished by any subtle or crafty device. "And that the pope and cardinals be not moved to do any thing contrary unto the law of the Lord. Wherefore let us pray unto our God, that he will so stir up our pope Urban VI. as he began, that he with his clergy may follow the Lord Jesus Christ in life and manners; and that they may teach the people effectually; and that they likewise may faith- fully follow them in the same. And let us specially pray, that our pope may be preserved from all malign and evil counsel, which we do know that evil and envious men of his household would give him. And seeing the Lord will not suffer us to be tempted above our power, much less then will he require of any creature to do that thing which they are not able; forsomuch as that is the plain condition and manner of antichrist." In the council of the Lateran, a decree was made with regard to heretics, which required all magistrates to extirpate them upon pain of forfeiture and deposition. The canons of this council being received in England, the prosecution of heretics became a part of the common law; and a writ, styled de heretico comburendo, was issued under king Henry IV. for burning them upon their conviction; after which special statutes were made, which commenced under Richard II., about the year 1390. The first made was assented to only by the lords; but the king sanctioned it without the concurrence of the commons. Yet the utmost extent of the severity in this was, that writs should be issued to the laws of the church. It appears that those heretics were, at this time, very numerous, that they wore a peculiar habit, preached in churches and may other places against the existing faith, and refused to pay obedience to ecclesiastical censures. On the accession of Henry IV. to the crown in 1399, as he owed it in a great measure to the clergy, he passed an act against all who should presume to preach without the bishop's licence, or against the established church. It was enacted that all transgressors of this kind should be imprisoned, and be brought to trial within three months. If upon conviction they offered to abjure, and were not relapsed, they were to be imprisoned and fined at pleasure; but if they refused to abjure, or were relapsed, they were to be deliv- ered over to the secular arm; and the magistrates were to burn them in some public place. About this time William Sautre, parish priest of St. Osith in London, being condemned as a relapse, and degraded by Arundel, archbishop of Canterbury, a writ was issued, wherein burning is called the common punishment, and referred to the customs of other nations. This was the first example of that cruel punishment in this kingdom. The clergy, alarmed lest the doctrines of Wickliffe should ultimately become established, used every exertion in their power to check them. In the reign of Richard II. the bishops obtained a general licence to imprison heretics without being obliged to procure a special order from court, which however the house of commons caused to be revoked. But as the fear of imprisonment could not check the evil dreaded by the bishops, Henry IV., whose particular object was to win the affection of the clergy, earnestly recommended to parliament the concerns of the church. Page 292 How reluctant soever the house of commons might be to prosecute the Lollards, the credit of the court, and the cabals of the clergy, at last obtained a most detestable act, for burning obstinate heretics; which bloody statute was not repealed till the year 1677. It was immediately after the passing of this statute that the ecclesiastical court con- demned William Sautre to the flames. Notwithstanding the opposition of the popish clergy, Wickliffe's doctrine continued to spread in Henry the IVth's reign, even to such a degree, that the majority of the house of commons were inclined to it; whence they presented two petitions to the king, one against the clergy, the other in favour of the Lollards. The first set forth, that the clergy made ill use of their wealth, and consumed their income in a manner quite different from the intent of the donors; that their revenues were excessive, and consequently it would be necessary to lessen them that so many estates might easily be seized as would provide for one hundred and fifty earls at the rate of three thousand marks a year each, one thousand five hundred barons at one hundred marks each, six thousand two hundred knights at forty marks, and one hundred hospitals; that by this means the safety of the kingdom might be better provided for, the poor better maintained, and the clergy more devoted to their duty. In the second petition the commons prayed, that the statute passed against the Lollards in the second year of this reign might be repealed, or qualified with some restrictions. As it was the king's interest to please the clergy, he answered the commons very sharply, that he neither could nor would consent to their petitions. And with regard to the Lollards, he declared that he wished the heretics were extirpated out of the land. To prove the truth of this, he signed a warrant for burning a man in humble life, but of strong mind and sound piety, named Thomas Badly. This individual was a layman, and by trade a tailor. He was arraigned in the year 1409 before the bishop of Worchester, and convicted of heresy. On his examination he said, that it was impossible any priest could make the body of Christ sacramentally, nor would he believe it unless he saw manifestly the corporeal body of the Lord to be handled by the priest at the altar; that it was ridiculous to imagine that at the supper, Christ held in his own hand his own body and divided it among his disciples, and yet remaining whole. "I believe," said he, "the Omnipotent God in trinity; but if every consecrated host at the altar be Christ's body, there must then be in England no less than 20,000 gods." After this he was brought before the archbishop of Canterbury at St. Paul's church, and again examined in presence of a great number of bishops, the duke of York, and several of the first nobility. Great pains were used to make him recant; but he courageously answered that he would still abide by his former opinions, which no power should force him to forego. On this the archbishop of Canterbury ratified the sentence given by the bishop of Worcester. When the king has signed the warrant for his death, he was brought to Smithfield, and there being Page 293 put into an empty tub, was bound with iron chains fastened to a stake, and had dry wood piled around him. As he was thus standing before the wood was lighted, it happened that the prince, the king's eldest son, came near the spot; who acting the part of the good Samaritan, began to endeavour to save the life of him whom the hypocritical Levites and Pharisees sought to put to death. He admonished and counselled him, that having respect to himself he should speedily withdraw out of these dangerous labyrinths of opinions, adding oftentimes threatenings, the which might have daunted any man. Also Courtenay, at that time chancel- lor of Oxford, preached unto him, and urged upon him the faith of the holy church. In the mean time the prior of St. Bartholomew's in Smith- field, brought with all the solemnity the sacrament of Christ's body, with twelve torches borne before, and shewed the host to the poor man at the stake. He then demanded of him how he believed in it; he answered, that he knew well it was hallowed bread, but not God's body. Then was the tun put over him, and fire applied to it. On feeling the fire, he cried, "Mercy!"--calling likewise upon the Lord--when the prince imme- diately commanded to take away the tun, and quench the fire. He then asked him if he would forsake heresy, and take the faith of holy church, which, if he would do, he should have goods enough, promising him also a yearly pension out of the king's treasury. But this valiant champion of Christ, neglecting the prince's fair words, as also contemning all men's devices, refused the offer of worldly promises, being more inflamed with the spirit of God, than with any earthly desire. Wherefore, as he con- tinued immoveable in his former mind, the prince commanded him to be put again into the tun, and that he should not afterward look for any grace or favour. As he could be allured by no reward, so he was nothing at all abashed at their torments, but, as a valiant soldier of Christ, he persevered invincibly till his body was reduced to ashes, and his soul rose triumphant unto God who gave it. At the commencement of the reign of Henry V. about 1413, a pretended conspiracy, evidently of priestly contrivance, was said to be discovered of Sir John Oldcastle, and some others of the followers of Wickliffe. Many of these were condemned, both for high treason and heresy; they were first hanged, and afterwards burnt. A law followed, enacting that all Lollards should forfeit their whole possessions in fee simple, with their goods and chattels; and all sheriffs and magistrates, from the lord chancellor to the meanest officer, were required to take an oath to destroy them and their heresies, and to assist the ordinaries in the suppression of them. The clergy made an ill use of this law, and vexed every one who any ways offended them, with imprisonment; upon which the judges interposing, they examined the grounds of such commitments, and, as they saw cause, either bailed or discharged the prisoners; and took upon them to declare what opinions were heresies by law, and what were not. Thus the people flew for protection to the judges, and found more mercy from the common lawyers, than from those who ought to have been the pastors of their souls. The persecutions of the Lollards in the reign of Henry V. were owing to the cruel instigations of the clergy, as that monarch was naturally averse to cruelty. It is supposed, that the chief cause of the violent hatred which the clergy bore to the Lollards, Page 294 was, that they had endeavoured to strip them of part of their revenues. However this might be, they thought that the most effectual way to check the progress of Wickliffe's doctrine, would be to attack the then chief protector of it, Sir John Oldcastle, baron of Cobham; and to persuade the king that the Lollards were engaged in conspiracies to overturn the throne and state. It was even reported that they intended to murder the king, together with the princes his brothers, with most of the lords spiritual and temporal, in hopes that the confusion which must necessarily arise in the kingdom, after such a massacre, would prove favourable to their religion. Upon this a false rumour was spread, that Sir John Oldcastle had got together 20,000 men in St. Gile's in the Fields, a place then overgrown with bushes. The king himself went thith- er at midnight, and finding no more than fourscore or a hundred persons, who were privately met upon a religious account, he fell upon them and killed many, it is supposed before he knew of the purpose of their meeting. Some of them being afterwards examined, were prevailed upon merely by promises or threats, to confess whatever their enemies de- sired; and these accused Sir John Oldcastle. The king hereupon thought him guilty; and in that belief set a thousand marks upon his head, with a promise of perpetual exemption from taxes to any town which should secure him. Sir John was apprehended and imprisoned in the Tower; but escaping from thence he fled into Wales, where he long concealed him- self. But being afterwards seized in Powisland, in North Wales, by John Grey, Lord Powis, he was brought to London, to the great joy of the clergy, who were highly incensed against him, and resolved to sacrifice him to strike a terror into the rest of the Lollards. Sir John was of a very good family, had been sheriff of Hethfordshire under Henry IV. and summoned to parliament among the barons of the realm in that reign. He had been sent beyond sea with the earl of Arundel, to assist the duke of Burgundy against the French. In a word, he was a man of extraordinary merit, notwithstanding which he was condemned to be hanged up by the waist with a chain, and burnt alive. This most barbarous sentence was executed amidst the curses and imprecations of the priests and monks, who used their utmost endeavours to prevent the people from praying for him. Such was the tragical end of Sir John Oldcastle, baron of Cobham, who left the world with a resolution and constancy, which answered perfectly to the brave spirit he had ever maintained in the cause of truth and of his God. This was the first noble blood shed by popish cruelty in England. Not satisfied with his single death, the clergy got the parliament to make fresh statutes against the Lollards: they never ceasing, with amazing eagerness, to require their blood. It was enacted, among other things, that whoever read the scriptures in English, should forfeit land, chattels, goods, and life, and be condemned as heretics to God, enemies to the crown, and traitors to the kingdom; that they should not have the benefit of any sanctuary; and that, if they continued obstinate, or relapsed after being pardoned, they should first be hanged for treason against the king, and then burned for heresy against God. Page 295 The act was no sooner passed, than a violent persecution was raised against the Lollards: several of them were burnt alive, some fled the kingdom, and others abjured their religion, to escape the torments prepared for them. From this picture of the horrid barbarities exercised in those times, we may justly bless those we live in, when nothing of that sort is practised, but when all are permitted to obey the dictates of their own conscience, and openly profess their respective religion, provided they do not disturb the tranquillity of the kingdom. The most likely means of preserving the nation in this security is for every cruel statute to be expunged, and for the power and virtue of Christian truth to be trusted with the sole defence of our orthodoxy and our lives. The following is the confession of the virtuous and Christian martyr whose death we have just described; which, from its clearness and simplicity, is well worthy of remembrance. He commences with the apos- tle's creed. "I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth: and in Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried, went down to hell, the third day arose again from death, ascended up to Heaven, sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty; and from thence shall come again to judge the quick and the dead. I believe in the Holy Ghost, the universal holy church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the uprising of the flesh, and everlasting life. Amen. "For a more large declaration of this my faith in the catholic church, I stedfastly believe, that there is but one God Almighty, in and of whose godhead are these three persons, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, and that those three persons are the self-same God Almighty. I believe also, that the second person in this most blessed trinity, in most convenient time appointed thereunto before, took flesh and blood of the most blessed virgin Mary, for the safeguard and redemption of the universal kind of man, which was before lost in Adam's offence. Moreover, I believe, that the same Jesus Christ our Lord, thus being both God and man, is the only head of the whole christian church, and that all those that have been or shall be saved, be members of this most holy church. Whereof the first sort be now in Heaven, and they are the saints from hence departed. These, as they were here conversant, conformed always their lives to the most holy laws and pure examples of Christ, renouncing Satan, the world, and the flesh, with all their concupiscence and evils. The other sort are here upon earth, and called the church militant. For day and night they contend against crafty assaults of the devil, the flattering prosperi- ties of the world, and the rebellious filthiness of the flesh." As touching the power and authority of the keys, the archbishops, bishops, and other prelates, he said, that the pope is very antichrist, that is, the head; that the archbishops, bishops, and other prelates, be his members, and that the friars be his tail. The which pope, archbishops, and bishops, a man ought not to obey, but so far forth as they were followers of Christ and of Peter, in their life, manners, and conversa- tion, and that he is the successor of Peter which is best and purest in life and manners."These men," said he, on his examination, to the people who stood about him, "which judge and would condemn me, will seduce you all and themselves, and will lead you unto hell; therefore take heed of them." Page 296 SECTION III HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF THE PROGRESS OF THE REFORMATION IN THE REIGN OF KING HENRY VII. The reader will, doubtless, attend to the transactions recorded in this reign with peculiar interest. It was at this period that God, through the instrumentality of the king, liberated our happy country from the papal yoke, when England became an independent as well as protestant kingdom, and the ascendance of the papal power over this island was preparing to be scattered to the four winds, never more to be able to recover its settlement in a region so adverse to its character and claims. The wars between the houses of York and Lancaster had produced such fatal revolutions, and cast England into such frequent convul- sions, that the nation with great joy hailed the accession of Henry VII. to the throne, who being himself descended from the house of Lan- caster, by his marriage with the heiress of the house of York, freed them from the fear of any more wars by new pretenders. But the covetous- ness of his temper, the severity of his ministers, his ill conduct in the matter of Britagne, and his jealousy of the house York, made him so generally odious to his people, that his life was little respected, and his death as little lamented. Henry VIII. succeeded, with all the advan- tages he could have desired. His disgracing Empson and Dudley, the cruel ministers of his father's designs for filling his coffers, his appoint- ing restitution to be made of the sums that had been unjustly exacted of the people under covert of the king's prerogative, made the nation conclude they should hereafter live secure, under the protection of such a prince, and that the violent remedies of parliamentary judgments should be no more necessary, except as in this case, to confirm what had been done before in the ordinary courts of justice. Either from the magnificence of his own temper, or the observation he had made of the ill effects of his father's parsimony, the new king distributed his rewards and largesses with an unmeasured bounty; so that he quickly exhausted the two millions which his father had treasured up, and emptied a coffer which he had left the fullest in christendom: but till the ill effects of this appeared, it raised in his court and subjects the greatest hopes possible of a prince, whose first actions shewed an equal mixture of justice and generosity. The king had been educated with more than ordinary care: learning being then in its dawning, after a night of long and gross ignorance, his father had given orders that both his elder brother and he should be well instructed; not with any design to make him archbishop of Canterbury, for he had made small Page 297 progress in theological and ecclesiastical lore, when his brother prince Arthur died, being then but eleven years old. The learning then most in credit among clergy was the scholastic divinity, which, by a shew of subtlety, recommended itself to curious persons; and being very suitable to a vain and contentious temper, agreed best with Henry's disposition. Further, being likely to draw the most flattery, it became the chief subject of his studies, in which he grew not only to be eminent for a prince, but he might really have passed for a learned man had his quali- ty been never so mean. He delighted in the purity of the Latin tongue, understood philosophy, and was so great a master in music that he com- posed better than many professors of the art. He was a bountiful patron to all learned men, more particularly to Erasmus and Polydore Virgil, and delighted much in those returns which hungry scholars make to liberal princes; for he loved flattery our of measure, and he had enough of it to have surfeited a man of any modesty; for all the world, both at home and abroad, contended who should exceed most indecently in setting out his praises. The clergy carried it; for as he had merited most at their hands, both by espousing the interests of the papacy, and by his entering the lists with Luther, so those that hoped to be advanced by these arts, were as little ashamed in magnifying him out of measure, as he was in receiving their gross commendations. One of the most con- spicuous men of this, or perhaps of any other age, was Cardinal Wolsey. He was of mean extraction, but possessed great parts, and had a wonder- ful dexterity in insinuating himself into men's favours. He had but a little time been introduced to the king before he obtained an entire ascendancy over him, and the direction of all his affairs, and for fifteen years continued to be the most absolute favourite ever known in England. He saw the king was much set on his pleasures, and had a great aversion to business, and the other counsellors being unwilling to bear the load of affairs, were unwelcome to him, by pressing the king to govern by his own counsels; but he knew the methods of favourites bet- ter, and so was not only easy, but assistant to the king in his pleas- ures, and undertook to free him from the trouble of government, and to give him leisure to follow his appetites. This was the chief cause of that unbounded influence which Wolsey so soon acquired over a sovereign quite as ambitious as himself.The accidental circumstance of another and baser passion predominating in the king's heart over pure ambition, gave the crafty Wolsey an opening, which he did not for a moment neglect, of entering on a career which in different directions gratified equally both minister and monarch. Wolsey soon became master of all the offices at home and treaties abroad, so that all affairs went as he directed them. He it seems became soon obnoxious to parliaments, and therefore tried but one during his ministry, where the supply was granted so Page 298 scantily, that afterwards he chose rather to raise money by loans and benevolences, than by the free gift of the people in parliament. He in time became so scandalous for his ill life, that he grew to be a dis- grace to his profession; for he not only served the king, but also shared with him in his pleasures, and became a prey to distempers of a sensual life. He was first made bishop of Tournay in Flanders, then of Lincoln, after that he was promoted to the see of York, and had both the abbey of St. Albans and the bishopric of Bath and Wells in commendam; the last he afterwards exchanged for Durham, and upon Fox's death, he quitted Durham that he might take Winchester; and besides all this, the king by a special grant, gave him power to dispose of all the eccle- siastical preferments in England; so that in effect he was the pope of this reforming country, as was said anciently of an archbishop of Canterbury, and no doubt but he copied skillfully enough those patterns that were set him at Rome. Being made a cardinal, and setting up a legatine court, he found it fit for his ambition to have the great seal likewise, that there might be no clashing between those two jurisdic- tions. He had, in one word, all the qualities necessary for a great minister, and all the vices common to a great favourite. The manner of promotion to bishoprics and abbeys was then the same that had taken place ever since the investitures by the ring and staff were taken out of the hands of princes. Upon a vacancy the king seized on all the temporalities, and granted a licence for an election, with a special recommendation of the person; which being returned, the royal assent was given, and it was sent to Rome, that bulls might be issued, and then the bishop elect was consecrated: after that he came to the king and re- nounced every clause in the bulls that was contrary to the king's prero- gative, or to the law, and swore fealty; and then were the temporalities restored. Nor could bulls be sued out at Rome without a licence under the great seal; so that the kings of England had reserved the power to themselves of promoting to ecclesiastical benefices, notwithstanding all the invasions the popes had made on their temporal authority. The immunity of churchmen for crimes committed by them, till they were first degraded by the spirituality, occasioned the only contest that occurred in the beginning of this reign between the secular and ecclesiastical courts. Henry VII. had passed a law, that convicted clerks should be burnt in the hand. A temporary law was also made in the beginning of his reign, that murderers and robbers, not being bishops, priests, nor deacons, should be denied the benefit of the clergy: but this was to last only to the next parliament, and so being not continued by it, the act determined. The abbot of Winchelsea preached severely against it, as being contrary to the laws of God, and the liberties of the holy church, and said that all who assented to it had fallen under eccle- siastical censure. Afterwards he published a book to prove that all clerks, even of the lower orders, were sacred, and could not be judged by the temporal courts. This being done in parliament, the temporal lords and the commons addressed the king, desiring him to repress the insolence of the clergy. Accordingly a public hearing was appointed before his majesty and all the judges. Dr. Standish, a Franciscan, Page 299 argued against the immunity, and proved that the judging clerks had in all times been practised in England; and that it was necessary for the peace and safety of mankind that all criminals should be punished. The abbot argued on the other side and said, it was contrary to a decree of the church, and was a sin in itself. Standish answered, that all decrees were not observed: for notwithstanding the decree for residence, bishops did not reside at their cathedrals. And since no decree was binding till it was received, this concerning immunity, which was never received in England, did not bind. After they had fully argued the matter, the laity were of opinion that the friar had the best of the argument; and there- fore moved the king that the bishops might be ordered to make him preach a recantation sermon. But they refused to do it, and said they were bound by their oaths to maintain his opinion. Standish was upon this much hated by the clergy, but the matter was allowed to fall; yet the clergy carried the point, for the law was not continued. Not long after this, an accident occurred that drew great consequences after it. Richard Hunne, a merchant in London, was sued by his parish priest for a mortuary in the legate's court; on this, his friends advised him to sue the priest in the temporal court for a premunire for bringing the king's subjects before a foreign and illegal bar. This incensed the clergy so much that they contrived his destruction. Accordingly, hearing that he had Wickliffe's Bible in his house, he was upon that put into the bishop's prison for heresy; but being examined upon sundry articles, he confessed some things, and submitted himself to mercy. On this they ought, according to the law, to have enjoined him penance and discharged him, it being his first crime: but he could not be prevailed on to let his suit fall in the temporal court; so one night his neck was broken with an iron chain, and he was wounded in other parts of his body, and then knit up in his own girdle, and it was given out that he had hanged himself; but the coroner's inquest by examining the body, and by several other evidences, particularly by the confession of the sumner, gave their verdict, that he was murdered by the bishop's chancellor, Dr. Horsey, the sumner, and the bell-ringer. The spiritual court proceeded against the dead body, and charged Hunne with all the heresy in Wicklif- fe's preface to the Bible, because that was found in his possession: thus he was condemned as a heretic, and his body was burnt. The indig- nation of the people was raised to the highest pitch against this ac- tion, in which they implicated the whole body of the clergy, whom they esteemed no longer their pastors, but barbarous murderers. The rage went so high that the bishop of London complained he was not safe in his own house. The bishops, the chancellor, and the sumner were indicted as principals in the murder. In parliament an act passed restoring Hunne's children; but the commons sent up a bill concerning his murder, which, however, was laid aside by the lords, where the clergy were the majori- ty. The clergy looked on the opposition that Standish had made in the point of their immunities, as that which gave the rise to Hunne's first suit; and the convocation cited him to answer for his conduct; but he claimed the king's protection, since he had done nothing, but only pleaded in the king's name. The clergy pretended they did not prosecute him for his pleading, but for some of his divinity lectures, contrary to the liberty of the church, which the king was bound to maintain by his coronation oath: but the temporal lords, the judges, and commons, prayed the king also to maintain the laws according to his coronation oath, and to give Standish his protection. The king upon this being in great perplexity, required Veysy, afterwards of bishop of Exeter, to declare upon his conscience and allegiance the truth in that matter. His opinion was against the immunity; so another public hearing being appointed, Standish was accused for teaching - that the inferior orders were not sacred; that their exemption was not founded on a divine right, but that the laity might punish them; that that the canons of the church did not bind till they were received; and that the study of the canon law was useless. Of these opinions he denied some, and justified others. Veysy being required to give his opinion, alleged - that the laws of the church did only oblige where they were received; as the law of the celibate of the clergy, received in the West, did not bind the Greek churches that never received it, so the exemption of the clerks not being received did not bind in England. The judges gave their opinion next, which was - that those who prosecuted Standish were all in a praemunire. So the court broke up. But in another hearing, in the presence of the greatest part of both houses of parliament, the cardinal said in the name of the clergy - that though they intended to do nothing against the king's prerogative, yet the trying of clerks seemed to be contrary to the liberty of the church, which they were bound by their oaths to maintain. So they prayed that the matter might be referred to the pope. The king said, that he thought Standish had answered them fully: the bishop of Winchester replied he would not stand to his opinion at his peril. Standish upon that asked, "What can one poor friar do against all the clergy of England?" The archbishop of Canterbury answered, "Some of the fathers of the church have suffered martyrdom upon that account;" but the chief-justice replied, "Many holy kings have maintained that law, and many holy bishops have obeyed it." In conclu- sion, the king declared, that he would maintain his rights, and would not submit them to the decrees of the church, otherwise than as his ancestors had done. Horsey was appointed to be brought to his trial for Hunne's murder, and upon his pleading not guilty, no evidence was to be brought, and so he was to be discharged. The discontent of the people greatly increased at this, and very much disposed them to all that was done afterwards, for pulling down the ecclesiastical tyranny in this country, and dissolving the establishment by which it was chiefly sus- tained. This was the first disturbance in this king's reign, till the suit for his divorce commenced. In all other points he was con- stantly in the pope's interests, who sent him the common compliments of roses, and such other trifles, by which that see had treated princes so long as children. But no compliment wrought so much on the king's vanity, as the title of "Defender of the Faith," sent him by pope Leo upon the book which he wrote against Luther concerning the sacraments. It will now be proper to consider the rapid progress of the doctrines PAGE 301 of the reformation among the people. From the days of Wickliffe there were many that differed from the national faith. He wrote many books that gave great offence to the clergy, yet being powerfully supported by the duke of Lancaster, they could not have their revenge during his life; but as we have seen, he was after his death condemned, and his body was raised and burnt. The Bible which he translated into English, with the preface which he set before it, produced the greatest effects. In these he reflected on the ill lives of the clergy, and condemned the worship of saints and images, and the corporeal presence of Christ in the sacrament; but the most criminal part in the eyes of the papists was, exhorting all people to read the Scriptures. Perhaps there cannot be a stronger proof of the depravity of the Roman catholic religion, or its perversion of truth, than denying to the laity the use of the sacred volume. - "To the law and to the testimony," saith the prophet; "if they speak not according to this, it is because there is no light in them." "Search the Scriptures," saith the Lord. "These were more noble than those of Thessalonica, in that they received the word with all readiness of mind, and searched the Scriptures daily, to see whether these things were so," remarks the writer of the Acts of the Apostles. The following article respecting Wickliffe and his followers, appeared in the 16th volume of the Monthly Magazine, and may be appropriately introduced in this place. Wickliffe, the celebrated priest and reformer in the end of Edward III.'s reign, was not educated at Cambridge, but at Oxford; in which university, being a man of distinguished learning, he possessed considerable authority and influence: but his doctrines soon made their way among all ranks of people; and Cambridge, as may be supposed, was not behindhand in giving them a hearing; many of its members were fore- most among Wickliffe's advocates, but as the Lollards, his followers, did not form themselves into societies or churches, they were obliged to maintain their opinions privately, and in the hearing only of their particular confidants; for besides the decree passed in the fourth council of Lateran, that all heretics should be delivered over to the civil magistrate to be burned, there were particular laws made in Richard II. and Henry IV.'s reign, which put them from under the king's protection, and left them at the mercy of the spiritual courts. We are not therefore to expect, under these circumstances, that Wickliffe's doctrines should be much agitated publicly at Cambridge. This, however, we collect, that about the year 1401, archbishop Arundel, with his commissioners, visited Cambridge; the archbishop personally, the collec- tive body of the university in congregation, his commissioners every private college. One article of their inquiries was, whether there were any members suspected of Lollardism, or any other heretical pravity? and ten years after, Peter Hartford was, according to Dr. Fuller in his history of Cambridge, ordered to abjure Wickliffe's opinions in full congregation; and about twenty years after this, several Lollards of Chesterton were obliged to abjure. One of the opinions of the latter heretics will appear very singular, which was that priests were incar- nate devils. They had, no doubt, poor creatures, been too painfully PAGE 302 scorched with church discipline, and were too likely to become fuel for some future flame of their kindling. The testimonies of this great man against those corruptions were such, that there was no way to deal with them but if possible to silence him. His followers were not men of letters, but being wrought on by the easy conviction of plain common sense, were quite determined in their persuasions. They did not form themselves into a body, but were contented to hold their opinions se- cretly, and did not spread them, but to their particular confidants. The clergy sought them out every where, and delivered them after conviction to the secular arm, that is, to the flames of martyrdom, the odium of which, by this fiction, they sought to avoid. The canons of the council of the Lateran being received in England, the proceedings against heretics grew to be a part of the common law, and a writ for burning them was issued upon their conviction without reserve. In the beginning of this reign, there were several persons brought into the bishop's courts for heresy, before Warham. Forty-eight were ac- cused: but of these, forty-three abjured, twenty-seven men, and sixteen women, most of them inhabitants of Tenterden. Five of them, four men and one woman, were condemned; some as obstinate heretics, and others as relapses: and against the common ties of nature, the woman's husband, and her two sons, were suborned witnesses against her. Upon their conviction, a certificate was made by the archbishop to the chancery: upon which, since there is no pardon upon record, the writs for burning them must have gone out in course, and the execution of them is little to be doubted. The articles objected to them were, that they believed that in the eucharist there was nothing but material bread; that the sacraments of baptism, confirmation, confession, matrimony, and extreme unction, were neither necessary nor profitable; that priests had no more power than laymen; that pilgrimages were not meritorious; that the money and labour they required were spent in vain; that images ought not to be worshipped; that they were only stocks and stones; that prayers ought not to be made to saints, but only to God; that there was no virtue in holy water or holy bread. By this it will appear, that many in this nation were prepared to receive those doctrines, which were afterwards preached by the reformers, even before Luther commenced his more determined and successful career. The rise and progress of the reformation under him are well known: the scandalous extolling of indulgences gave the first occasion to all that followed between him and the church of Rome; in which, had not the corruptions and cruelties of the clergy been so visible and scandalous, so small a matter could never have produced such a revolution. Even he himself did not expect so great a matter to be immediately kindled by this little fire. The bishops were grossly ignorant; they seldom resided in their dioceses, except it was to riot at high festivals; and all the effect their residence could have was to corrupt others by their ill example. They followed the courts of princes, and aspired to the greatest offices. The abbots and monks were almost wholly given up to luxury and idleness; and their unmarried state gave infinite scandal to the world; for it PAGE 303 appeared that restraining them from having wives of their own, made them conclude that they had a right to all other men's. The inferior clergy were no better; and not having places of retreat to conceal their vices, as the monks had, they became more public and shameless. In short, all ranks of churchmen were so generally despised and hated, that the world was very apt to be possessed with prejudice against their doctrines, for the sake of the men; and the worship of God was so defiled with gross superstition, that the people were easily convinced the church stood in great need of reformation. This was much increased when the books of the fathers began to be read, in which the difference between the former and latter ages of the church very evidently appeared. They found that a blind superstition came first in the room of true piety; and when by its means the wealth and interest of the clergy were highly advanced, the popes had upon that established their tyranny; under which, not only meaner people, but even crowned heads had long groaned. All these things concurred to make way for the advancement of the reformation: while the books of the Germans being brought into England and translated, many were prevailed on by them. Upon this, a hot persecution was vigorously set on foot, to such a degree that six men and women were burnt at Coventry in passion-week, only for teaching their children the creed, the Lord's prayer, and the ten commandments in English. Great numbers were every where brought into the bishops' courts; of whom some were burnt, while the greater part fearfully abjured. The king laid hold of this occasion to become the champion of the church, and wrote against Luther in the manner already described. His book, besides the title of "Defender of the Faith," drew upon him all that flattery could invent to extol it; whilst Luther, not daunted with such an antagonist, answered it, and treated Henry as much below the respect due to a king, as his flatterers had raised him above it. Tindal's translation of the New Testament, with some notes added to it, drew a severe condemnation from the clergy; there being nothing in which they were more concerned than to keep the people unacquainted with that book. Thus much may serve to shew the condition of affairs in England both in church and state, when the process of the king's divorce was first set on foot. This incident, so replete with consequences the most important to the reformation, shall now be laid before the reader with somewhat of particular detail. Henry VII. had entered into a firm alliance with Ferdinand of Spain, and agreed to a match between his eldest son prince Arthur, and Katharine the Infanta of Spain. She came into England and was married in November; but on the second of the following April the prince died, leaving the throne as well as the lady open to his brother. Arthur and Katharine had lodged and even slept together, to carry on the farce of marriage; but such was their youth, and the feebleness of the young prince, that beyond this farce no effect detrimental to Henry's hopes, or of service to the nation, could be expected. The king, being unwilling to restore so great a portion as two hundred thousand ducats, which the princess PAGE 304 brought as her dowery, proposed a second match for her with his younger son Henry. Warham objected to it as unlawful; but Fox, bishop of Winchester, was for it, and the opinion of the pope's authority was then so well established, that it was thought a dispensation from Rome was sufficient to remove all objections. Accordingly one was obtained, grounded upon a desire of the two young persons to marry together for preserving peace between the crowns of England and Spain. The pope was then at war with Lewis XII. of France, and would refuse nothing to the king of England, being perhaps not unwilling that princes should con- tract such marriages, since the lawfulness of their issue depending on the pope's dispensation, they would be thereby obliged in interest to support that authority. Upon this a marriage followed, the prince being yet under age; but the same day in which he came to be of age, he did, by his father's orders, make a protestation that he retracted and an- nulled the contract. His father, at his death, charged his son to break it off entirely, being perhaps apprehensive of such a return of confu- sion upon a controverted succession to the crown, as had occurred during the wars between the houses of York and Lancaster; but the son being then eighteen years of age, married her and she bore him two children who died soon after they were born; and another, Mary, afterwards queen of England. After this Katharine contracted some diseases that made her unacceptable to the king; who, at the same time beginning or pretending to have some scruples of conscience with regard to the law- fulness of his marriage, determined to have the affair investigated. He seemed to lay the greatest weight on the prohibition in the Levitical law of marrying the brother's wife, and being conversant in the writings of Thomas Aquinas, he found that he and the other schoolmen looked on those laws as moral, and for ever binding; and consequently the pope's dispensation was of no force, since his authority went not so far as to dispense with the laws of God. All the bishops of England, Fisher of Rochester only excepted, declared under their hands and seals that they judged the marriage unlawful. The ill consequences of wars that might follow upon a doubtful title to the crown, were also much considered. It is not certain that the king's affections for any other gave rise to all this. It is possible that, conceiving himself on the point of being freed of his former marriage, he gave a free scope to his affections, which settled on Anne Boleyn. PAGE 305 This lady was born in the year 1507, and at seven years of age was sent to France, where she remained twelve years, and then returned to Eng- land. She was much admired in both courts, was more beautiful than graceful, and more cheerful than discreet. She wanted none of the charms of wit or person, and must have had extraordinary attractions, since she could so long manage such a king's affection; for it is evi- dent that in the long course of seven years' courtship she kept him at a due distance. Knight, then secretary of state, was sent to Rome to prepare the pope to grant a dispensation from the former marriage. He made application to the pope in the most secret manner he could, and had a very favourable answer: for the pope promised frankly to dissolve the marriage; but another promise being exacted of him in the emperor's name, not to proceed in that affair, he was reduced to great straits, being then at the emperor's mercy, while he had no mind to lose the king of England; he therefore studied to gain time, and promised that if the latter would have a little patience, he should not only have that which he asked, but every thing that was in his power to grant. The chief cardinal, indeed, made some scruples concerning the bull that was de- manded, till he had raised his price, and got a great present; then the pope signed both a commission for Wolsey to try the cause, and judge in it, and also a dispensation, and put them into Knight's hands; but with tears prayed him that there might be no proceedings upon them, till the emperor was incapable of executing his revenge upon him; and whenever that was done he would own this act of justice which he did in the king's favour. The pope was at this time displeased with Cardinal Wolsey; for he understood that during his captivity, he had been in an intrigue to get himself chosen vicar of the papacy, and was to have sat at Avignon, which might have produced a new schism. Staphileus, dean of the Rota, being then in England, was wrought on by the promise of a bishopric, and a recommendation to a cardinal's hat, to promote the king's affair. By him the cardinal wrote to the pope, in a most earnest strain, for a dispatch of this business; and he desired, that an indif- ferent and tractable cardinal might be sent over, with a full commission to join with him, and to judge the matter; proposing to the king's ambassadors Campegio as the fittest man. Wolsey, in several letters to Cassali, who was in great favour with the pontiff, offered to take the blame on his own soul, if the pope would grant this bull; and with an earnestness, as hearty and warm and can be expressed in words, he pressed the thing, and added, that if the pope continued inexorable, he perceived the king would proceed another way. These entreaties had such effect that Campegio was declared legate, and ordered to go to England, and join in commission with Wolsey for judging this matter. He accord- ingly set out from Rome, and carried with him a decretal bull for annul- ling the marriage, which he was authorized to shew to the king and Wolsey; but was required not to give it out of his hands to either of them. In fact the divorce was trusted to his authority. In October he arrived in England, and after the usual compliments were over, he first advised the king to give up the prosecution of his suit; and then coun- selled the queen, in the pope's name to enter into a religious life, and make vows: but both were in vain; and he, by affecting an impartiality, almost lost his ground on either side. But he in great measure pacified the king when he shewed him the bull he had brought over for annulling PAGE 306 the marriage; yet he would not part with it either to the king or the cardinal; upon which, great instances were made at Rome, that Campegio might be ordered to shew it to some of the king's counsellors, and to go on and end the business, otherwise Wolsey would be ruined, and England lost. All this however did not prevail on the pope, who knew it was intended to get the bull out of the Campegio's hands, and then the king would leave him to the emperor's indignation: but though he posi- tively refused to grant that, yet he said he left the legates in England free to judge as they saw cause, and promised that he would confirm their sentence. The affair proceeding very slowly, ambassadors were dispatched to Rome with new propositions for a speedy termination. On this, the pope gave new assurances, that though he would not grant a bull, by which the divorce should be immediately his own act, yet he would confirm the legate's sentence. Just after he granted this boon, the pope was taken suddenly ill, upon which the Imperialists began to prepare for a conclave; but Farnese, and the cardinal of Mantua, opposed them, and seemed to favour Wolsey; whom, as his correspondents wrote to him, they reverenced as a Deity. Upon this he dispatched a courier to Gardener, then on his way to Rome, with large directions how to manage the election. It was reckoned, that the king of France, joining heartily with the king of England, the matter might be set at rest. There were only six cardinals wanting to make the election sure; and besides sums of money, and other rewards, which were to be distributed among them, he was to give them assurance that the cardinals' preferments should be equally divided. These were the secret methods of attaining the chair: and indeed it would puzzle a man of an ordinary degree of credulity, to think that one chosen by such means could presume to be Christ's vicar, and the infallible judge of controversies. The recovery, however, of the pope put an end to these intrigues. At length the legates began the process, when the queen protested against them as incompetent judg- es. They, however, proceeded according to the forms of law, although the queen had appealed from them to the pope, and objected both to the place, to the judges, and her lawyers; when they pronounced her contuma- cious, and went on to examine witnesses, chiefly to the particulars of the consummation of her marriage with prince Arthur. But now since the process was thus going on, the emperor's agents pressed the pope vehe- mently for an avocation; and all possible endeavours were used by the king's agents to hinder it. They spared nothing that would work on the pope, either in the way of persuasion or threatening: it was told him there was a treaty set on foot between the king and the Lutheran princes of Germany; and that upon declaring himself so partial as to grant the avocation, he would certainly embark in the same interests with them. The pope however thought the king so far engaged in honour on points of religion, that he would not be prevailed upon to unite with Luther's followers; he did not imagine that the effects of his granting the avocation would be so fatal as the cardinal's agents represented them. In conclusion, therefore, after the emperor had engaged to restore his family to the government of Florence, he resolved to publish his treaty with him, and told the English ambassadors that he was forced to it; PAGE 307 both because all the lawyers said it could not be denied, and that he could not resist the emperor's forces, which surrounded him on all hands. Their endeavours to gain a little time by delay were as fruitless as other artifices, for on the 15th of July, the pope signed the avoca- tion, and on the 19th sent it by an express messenger to England. The legates, Campegio in particular, drew out the matter with all the delay they could contrive, and gained much time. At last, it being brought to the point that sentence was to be pronounced, Campegio, instead of doing it, adjourned the court till October, and said, that as they were mem- bers of the consistory they must observe their times of vacation. This gave the king and his court great offence, when they saw what was like to be the issue of a process on which his majesty was so much bent, and in which he was so far engaged both in honour and interest. The king governed himself upon the occasion with more temper than was expected: he dismissed Campegio civilly, only his officers searched his coffers when he went beyond sea, with evident design to see if the decretal bull could be found. Wolsey was now upon the point of being disgraced, though the king seemed to treat him with all his former confidence. At this period,Dr Cranmer, a fellow of Jesus College in Cambridge, meeting acci- dentally with Gardener and Fox at Waltham, and entering into discourse upon the royal marriage, suggested that the king should engage the chief universities and divines of Europe, to examine the lawfulness of his marriage; and if they gave their resolutions against it, then it being certain that the pope's dispensation could not derogate from the law of God, the marriage must be declared null. This novel and reasonable scheme they proposed to the king, who was much pleased with it, and said, "He had the sow by the right ear." He saw this way was both better in itself and would mortify the pope. Cranmer was accordingly sent for, and on conversing with him, the king conceived a high opinion both of his learning and prudence, as well as of his probity and sincerity, which took such root in the king's mind, that no artifices nor calumnies were ever able to remove it. From this moment and these circumstances began the rise of Cranmer and the decline of Wolsey. The great seal was taken from the latter and given to Sir Thomas More; and he was sued in a praemunire, for having held the legatine courts by a foreign authority, to the laws of England. Wolsey confessed the indictment, pleaded igno- rance, and submitted himself to the king's mercy: so judgment passed on him; when his rich palace and furniture were seized for the royal use. Yet the king received him again into his protection, and restored to him the temporalities of the sees of York and Winchester, and above 6000l. in plate and other goods; at which he was so transported, that it is said he fell down on his knees in a kennel before the messenger who brought him the news. Articles were put in against him in the house of lords for a bill of attainder, where he had but few friends: in the house of commons, Cromwell, who had been his secretary, so managed the matter, that it came to nothing. This failing, his enemies procured an order to be sent to him to go into Yorkshire: thither he went in great state, with one hundred and sixty horses in his train, and seventy-two PAGE 308 carts following him, and there he lived some time. But the king being informed, that he was practising with the pope and the emperor, he sent the earl of Northumberland to arrest him of high treason, and bring him up to London. On the way he sickened and died at Leicester, making great protestations of his constant fidelity to the king, particularly in the matter of his divorce; and wishing he had served God as faithfully as he had done the king; for then he would not have cast him off in his grey hairs, as the king had done: words that declining favourites are apt to reflect on in adversity; but they seldom remember them in the height of their fortune. The king intending to proceed in the method proposed by Cranmer, sent to Oxford and Cambridge to procure their conclusions. At Oxford it was referred by the major part of the convocation to thirty- three doctors and bachelors of divinity, whom that faculty was to name: they were empowered to determine the question, and put the seal of the university to their conclusion. They gave their opinions, that the marriage of the brother's wife was contrary both to the laws of God and nature. At Cambridge the convocation referred the question to twenty- nine; of which number, two-thirds agreeing, they were empowered to put the seal of the university to their determination. These agreed in opinion with those of Oxford. The jealousy of Cranmer's favouring Lutheranism caused the fierce popish party to oppose every thing in which he was engaged. They were also afraid of Anne Boleyn's advance- ment, who was believed to be tinctured with the reformed opinions. Crook, a learned man in the Greek tongue, was employed in Italy, to procure the resolution of divines there; in which he was so successful, that besides the great discoveries he made in searching the manuscripts of the Greek fathers concerning their opinions in this point, he engaged several persons to write for the king's cause. He also got the Jews to give their opinions of the laws in Leviticus, that they were moral and obligatory - that when a brother died without issue, his brother might marry his widow within Judea, for preserving their families and succes- sion; although that might not be done out of Judea. The state of Venice would not declare themselves, but said they would be neutral; and it was not easy to persuade the divines of the republic to give their opinions, till a brief was obtained of the pope, permitting all divines and canonists to deliver judgment according to their consciences. The pope abhorred this way of proceeding, though he could not decently oppose it; but he said in great scorn, that no friar should set limits to his power. Crook was ordered to give no money, nor make promises to any, till they had freely delivered their opinion; which he faithfully observed. This man sent over to England a hundred various books, and papers, with many subscriptions; all condemning the king's marriage as unlawful in itself. At Paris, the Sorbonne made their determination with great solemnity; after mass of the Holy Ghost, all the doctors took an oath to study the question, and to give their judgment according to their consciences; and after three weeks study, the greater part agreed on this strange and contradictory decree - "that the king's marriage was unlawful, and the pope could not dispense with it." At Orleans, Angiers, and Toulouse, they determined to the same PAGE 309 purpose. Calvin thought the marriage null, and they all agreed that the pope's dispensation was of no force. Osiander was employed to engage the Lutheran divines, but they were afraid of giving the emperor new grounds of displeasure. Melancthon thought the law in Leviticus was dispensable, and that the marriage might be lawful; and that in such matters, states and princes might make what laws they pleased. Though the divines of Leipsic, after much disputing about it, did agree that those laws were moral, yet they could never be brought to justify the divorce, with the subsequent marriage that followed upon it. And the king appeared very inclinable to receive their doctrine, so steadily did they follow their consciences even against their interests: but the pope was more compli- ant, for he offered to Cassali to grant his amorous petitioner dispensa- tion for having another wife, with which the Imperialists seemed on the whole to be willing to comply. The king's cause being thus fortified by so many resolutions in his favour, he made certain members of parliament sign a letter to the pope, complaining, that notwithstanding the great merits of their sovereign, the justice of his cause, and the importance of it to the safety of the kingdom, yet the pope made still new delays; they therefore pressed him to dispatch it speedily, otherwise they would be forced to seek other remedies, though they were not willing to drive things to extremities, till it was unavoidable. The letter was signed by the cardinal, the archbishop of Canterbury, four bishops, twenty-two abbots, forty-two peers, and eleven commoners. To this the pope wrote an answer, taking notice of the vehemence of their style, and freeing himself from the imputations of ingratitude and injustice. He acknowl- edged the king's great merits; and said, he had done all he could in his favour: he had granted a commission, but could not refuse to receive the queen's appeal; all the cardinals with one consent judging that an avocation was necessary. Since that time, the delays were not with him, but with the king; that he was ready to proceed, and would bring it to as speedy an issue as the importance of it would admit of; and as for their threatenings, they were neither proofs of their wisdom, nor of their religion. The king, now disgusted at his dependence on the pope, issued a proclamation against any that should purchase, bring over, or publish any bull from Rome, contrary to his authority: and after that he made an abstract of all the reasons and authorities of fathers, or modern writers, against his marriage, to be published both in Latin and English. Both sides having produced the strength of their cause, it evidently appeared that, according to the authority given to tradition in the church of Rome, the king had clearly the right on his side. At the same time he was not exempt from opposition, even in England. The friends of Katharine were more numerous than he had all along imagined, and the queen herself, amidst these disputes, continued firm to her resolution leaving the matter in the pope's hands, and would hearken to no propositions that were made to her, for referring it to the arbitra- tion of a number chosen on both sides. PAGE 310 The sovereigns of England claimed the same latitude of power in ecclesiastical matters, as the Roman emperors had exercised before the decline of their authority. Anciently they had divided bishoprics, granted investitures, and made laws relating both to ecclesiastical causes and persons. When the popes began to extend their power beyond the limits assigned them by the canons, great opposition arose to them in England; but they managed the advantages they found, either from the weakness or ill circumstances of princes, so steadily, that at length they subdued the world: and if they had not by their cruel exactions so oppressed the clergy, that they were driven to seek shelter under covert of the temporal authority, men generally were so absorbed by supersti- tion and credulity, that not only the whole spiritual power, but even the temporal authority of the princes, was likely to have fallen under papal tyranny. But the discontented clergy now supported the secular power as much as they had before advanced that of the papal. Boniface VIII. had raised his pretensions to that impudent pitch, that he de- clared all power, both ecclesiastical and civil, was derived from him; and this he established as an article of faith, necessary to salvation; on which he, and his successors, took upon them, to dispose of all ecclesiastical benefices by their absolute bulls and provisions. To restrain these invasions of the rights of princes, laws were made in England against their authority; but no punishment being declared for transgressors, the courtiers at Rome were not frightened at their publi- cation; so that the abuses still continued: but in the time of Edward III. a more severe act was made, by which all that transgressed were to be imprisoned, to be fined at pleasure, and to forfeit all their bene- fices. These long forgotten statutes were now revived, to bring the clergy into a snare: it was designed by the terror of this proceeding to force them to an entire submission, and to oblige them to redeem them- selves by the grant of a considerable subsidy. They pleaded ignorance; it was a public error, and they ought not therefore to be punished for it. To this it was answered, that the laws which they had transgressed were still in force and so no ignorance could excuse the violation of them. The convocation of Canterbury made their submission, and in their address to the king he was called the protector and supreme head of the church of England; but some objecting, it was added - "in so far as it is agreeable to the law of Christ." This was signed by nine bishops, fifty abbots and priors, and the greater part of the lower house; and with it they offered the king a subsidy of 100,000l. to procure his favour, and promised for the future not to make nor execute any consti- tutions without his licence. The convocation of York did not pass this so easily; they objected the word head, as agreeing to none but Christ: whereupon the king wrote them a long expostulatory letter, and told them with what limitations those of Canterbury had passed that title; upon which they all submitted, and offered 18,840l. which was accepted: thus the clergy were again received into the king's protec- tion, and received his precarious pardon for their heavy offences. After the prorogation of this session of parliament, new applications were made to the queen to persuade her to depart from her appeal; but she remained fixed in her resolution, and said she was the king's lawful wife, and would abide by it till the court at Rome should declare the contrary. Upon that the king desired her to choose any of his houses in the country to live in, and resolved never to see her more. She chose the palace of Ampthill, in Bedfordshire, for her residence, and the monastery of Kimbolton, at no great distance, for her religious resorts. PAGE 311 In these she passed the remainder of her life, beloved by all around her, and respected by none more than by the king himself, whose passions rather than judgment and conscience constrained him to prefer the youth and beauty of another. In January 1532, the pope, on the motion of the Imperialists, wrote to the king, complaining that notwithstanding a suit was depending concerning his marriage, yet he had put away his queen and kept one Anne as his wife, contrary to a prohibition served on him; he therefore exhorted him to live with his queen again, and to put away Anne. Upon this the king sent Dr. Bennet to Rome with a dispatch in which he complained that the pope proceeded in that matter upon the suggestion of others, who were ignorant and rash men: that he had car- ried himself inconstantly and deceitfully in it, and not as became Christ's vicar: that he had granted a commission, had promised never to recall it, and had sent over a decretal bull defining the cause. Either these were unjustly granted, or unjustly recalled. It was plain that he acted more with regard to his interests, than according to conscience; and that, as the pope had often confessed his own ignorance in these matters, so he was not furnished with learned men to advise him, other- wise he would not defend a marriage which almost all the learned men and universities in England, France, and Italy, had condemned as unlawful. He would not question his authority without he was compelled to it, and would do nothing but reduce it to its first and ancient limits, which was much better than to let it run on headlong, and still do amiss. This high letter made the pope resolve to proceed and end the matter, either by a sentence or a treaty. The king was cited to answer to the queen's appeal at Rome in person, or by proxy: accordingly, Sir Edward Karne was sent thither in the new character of the king's apologist, to excuse the king's appearance, upon such grounds as could be founded on the canon law, and upon the privileges of the crown of England. The Imperialists pressed the pope much to give sentence, but all the wise cardinals, who observed by the proceedings of the parliament that the nation would adhere to the king, if he should be provoked to shake off the pope's yoke, suggested milder counsels. In conclusion, the pope seemed to favour the king's plea, upon which the Imperialists made great com- plaints. But this amounted to no more than that the king was not bound to appear in person: therefore the cardinals, who were in his interest, advised the king to send over a proxy for answering the merits of the cause; and both the pope and the college wrote to him to finish the matter next winter. Bonner, at that time in Rome, was also sent to England to assure the king, that the pope was now so much in the French interest, that he might confidently refer this matter to him. On this the king sent for the speaker of the house of commons, and told him he found the prelates were but half subjects; for they swore at their consecration an oath to the pope, inconsistent with their allegiance and oath to him. By their oath to the pope, they swore to be in no council PAGE 312 against him, nor to disclose his secrets; but to maintain the papacy, and the regalitites of St. Peter against all men, together with the rights and authorities of the church of Rome; and that they should honourably entreat the legates of the apostolic see, and observe all the decrees, sentences, provisions, and commandments of that see;and yearly, either in person, or by proxy, visit the thresholds of the apostles. In their oath to the king, they renounced all clauses in their bulls con- trary to his royal dignity, and swore to be faithful to him, and to live and die with him against all others, and to keep his counsel; acknowl- edging that they held their bishoprics only of him. By these it appeared they could not keep both their oaths, in case a breach should fall out between the king and the pope; a discovery which would have been of serious consequence, had not the plague broke off the consultations of parliament at this time. Soon after, Sir Thomas More, seeing a rupture with Rome coming on so fast, desired leave to lay down his office, which was upon that conferred on Sir Thomas Audley. More had been satisfied with the king's keeping up the laws formerly made in opposition to the papal encroachments, and had concurred in the suit of the praemunire; but now the matter went farther, and not being able to keep pace with the new order of things, he returned to a private life. An interview soon followed between the kings of France and England; to which Anne Boleyn, now marchioness of Pembroke, was carried. After the first cere- monies and magnificence were over, Francis promised Henry to second him in his suit: he encouraged him to proceed to a second marriage without delay; and assured him he would stand by him in it: meantime, the pope offered to the king, to send a legate to any indifferent place, out of England, to form the process, reserving only the sentence himself to pronounce; and proposed to him and all princes a general truce, that so he might call a general council. The king answered, that such was the present state of the affairs of Europe, it was not seasonable to call a general council; and that it was contrary to his prerogative to send a proxy to appear at Rome: that by the decrees of general councils, all causes ought to be judged on the spot and by a provincial council; and that it was fitter to judge it in England than any where else: that by his coronation oath, he was bound to maintain the dignities of his crown, and the rights of his subjects, and not to appear before any foreign court. Sir Thomas Elliot was therefore sent over with instruc- tions, to move that the cause might be judged in England. Soon after this, the king married Anne Beleyn; Rowland Lee, afterwards bishop of Coventry and Litchfield, officiated, none being present but the duke of Norfolk, and her father, her mother, her brother, and Cranmer. It was thought that the former marriage being null, the king might proceed to another: and perhaps they hoped, that as the pope had formely proposed this method, so he would now approve of it. But though the pope had joined himself to France, yet he was still so much in fear of the em- peror that he resolved to continue resisting Henry's marriage, rather than provoke the imperial wrath. A new citation was therefore issued out,for the king to answer to the queen's complaints; but Henry's agents protested that their master was a sovereign prince, and England a free PAGE 313 church, over which the pope had no just authority; and that the king could expect no justice at Rome, where the emperor's power and the pope's authority were paramount to all others. At this time parliament met again, and passed an act condemning all appeals to Rome. In it they set forth - That the crown was imperial, and that the nation was a com- plete body, having full power to do justice in all cases, both spiritual and temporal; and that as former kings had maintained the liberties of the kingdom against the usurpations of the see of Rome, so they found the great inconvenience of allowing appeals in matrimonial causes; that they put them to great charges, and occasioned many delays: therefore they enacted, that thereafter those should be judged within the kingdom, and no regard be had to any appeals to Rome, or censures from it; but sentences given in England were to have their full effect; and all who executed any censures from Rome were to incur the pain of praemunire. The archbishopric of Canterbury was now vacant by the decease of Warham, who died the previous year: he was a great patron of learning, a good canonist, and a wise statesman; but he was a cruel persecutor of heret- ics, and inclined to believe fanatical legends. Cranmer was in Germany, disputing in the king's cause with some of the emperor's divines, when the king resolved to advance him to that dignity; and sent him word of it, that he might make haste to return. But a promotion so far above his thoughts, had not its common effects on him: he had a true and primitive sense of so great a charge; and instead of aspiring to it, he was afraid of it, and he both returned very slowly to England, and used all his endeavors to be excused from the advancement. Bulls were sent for to Rome in order to his consecration, which the pope granted. On the 13th of March, Cranmer was consecrated by the bishops of Lincoln, Exeter, and St. Asaph. The oath to the pope was of hard digestion to one "almost persuaded" to be a protestant: he therefore made a protestation before he took it, that he conceived himself not bound by it in any thing that was contrary to his duty to God, to his king, or country; and this he repeated when he took it. The convocation had then two questions before them; the first was concerning the lawfulness of the king's marriage, and the validity of the pope's dispensation; the other was a curious question of fact, whether prince Arthur had consummated the marriage. For the first, the judgments of nineteen universities were read; and after a long debate, there being twenty-three only in the lower house, fourteen were against the marriage, seven for it, and two voted dubious- ly. In the upper house, Stokesly bishop of London, and Fisher bishop of Rochester, maintained the debate at great length, the one for the af- firmative, and the other the negative. At last it was carried nemine contradicente, the few that were of the other side it seems withdrawing, against the marriage, two hundred and sixteen being present. For the other, which concerned matter of fact, it was referred to the canonists; and they all, except five or six, reported that the presumptions were very strong; and these in a matter not capable of plain proof were always received as legally conclusive. The convocation having thus PAGE 314 judged in the matter, the ceremony of pronouncing the divorce judicially was now the only thing wanting. The new queen was reported to be in a promising condition for the future monarchy. On Easter-eve she was declared queen of England: and soon after, Cranmer, with Gardiner, who had succeeded Wolsey as bishop of Winchester, and the bishops of London, Lincloln, Bath and Wells, with many divines and canonists, went to Dunstable; queen Katharine living then near it, at Ampthill. The king and queen were cited; he appeared by proxy, but the queen refused to take any notice of the court: so after three citations, she was declared contumacious, and all the merits of the cause formerly mentioned were examined. At last, on the 23rd of May, sentence was given, declaring the marriage to have been null from the beginning. Among the archbishop's titles in the commencement of the judgment, he is called "Legate of the apostolic see," which perhaps was added to give it the more force in law. Some days after this, he gave another judgment, confirming the king's marriage with queen Anne, and on the first of June she was crowned queen. All people admired queen Anne's conduct, who in a course of so many years managed the spirit of so violent a king in such a manner, as neither to surfeit him with too many favours, nor to provoke him with too much rigour. They that loved the reformation looked for better days under her protection: but many priests and friars, both in sermons and discourses, condemned the king's proceed- ings. The king sent ambassadors to all courts to justify what he had done: he sent also two to queen Katharine, to charge her to assume no other title but that of princess dowager; but she would not yield; she said she would not take that infamy on herself; and so resolved that none should serve about her who did not treat her as queen. At Rome the cardinals of the Imperial faction complained much of the attempt made on the pope's power, and urged him to proceed to censures. But there was only sentence given, annulling all that the archbishop of Canterbury had done; and the king was required, under pain of excommunication, to place things again in the state in which they formerly were: this decree was framed at Rome; and brought for publication to Dunkirk. The king sent a great embassy to the French monarch, who was then setting out to Mar- seilles to meet the pope: their errand was to dissuade him from the journey, unless the pope would promise to give the king satisfaction. Francis said, he was engaged in honour to go on; but assured them, he would mind the king's concerns with as much zeal as if they were his own. In September the queen brought forth a daughter, the renowned Elizabeth; and the king having before declared lady Mary princess of Wales, did now the same for the infant: though since a son might exclude her from it, she could not be heir apparent, but only heir presumptive to the crown. The eventful moment was nigh at hand, when the incident should take place that would cause the separation of England from the church of Rome. There was a secret agreement between the pope and Francis, that if Henry would refer his cause to the consistory, except- ing only to the cardinals of the Imperial faction, as partial, and would in all other things return to his obedience to the see of Rome, the sentence should be given in his favour. When Francis returned to Paris, PAGE 315 he sent over the bishop of that city to the king, to tell what he had obtained of the pope in his favour, and the terms on which it was prom- ised. This wrought so much on the king, that he presently consented to them; upon which the bishop of Paris, though it was now in the middle of winter, went to Rome with the welcome tidings. On his arrival there, the matter seemed greed: for it was promised that upon the king's send- ing a consent under his hand to place things in their former state, and his ordering a proxy to appear for him, judges should be sent to Cambray for making the process, and then sentence should be given. Upon the notice given of this, and of a day that was prefixed for the return of the courier, the king dispatched him with all possible haste; and now the business seemed at an end. But the courier had a sea and the Alps to pass, and in winter it was not easy to observe a limited day so exactly. The appointed day came, and no courier arrived; upon which, the Imperi- alists gave out, that the king was abusing the pope's easiness; and pressed him vehemently to proceed to a sentence: the bishop of Paris requesting only a delay of six days. The design of the Imperialists was to hinder a reconciliation: for if the king had been set right with the pope, there would have been so powerful a league formed against the emperor as would have frustrated all his measures; and therefore it was necessary for his politics to embroil them. Seduced by the artifice of this intriguing prince, the pope, without consulting his ordinary prudence, brought in the matter to the consistory; and there the Imperialists being the greater number, it was driven on with so much precipitation, that they did in one day that which, according to form, should have extended at least to three. They gave the final sentence, declared the king's marriage with queen Katharine good, and required him to live with her as his wife, otherwise they would proceed to censures. Two days after this, the courier came with the king's submission in due form; he also brought earnest letters from Francis in the king's favour. This wrought on all the indifferent cardinals, as well as those of the French faction, so that they prayed the pope to recall what was done. A new consistory was called, but the Imperialists urged with greater vehemence than ever, that they would not give such scandal to the world as to recall a definitive sentence of the validity of a marriage, and give heretics such advantage by their unsteadiness in matters of that nature; it was therefore carried that the former sentence should remain, and the execution of it be committed to the emperor. When this was known in England, it determined the king in his resolutions of shaking off the pope's yoke, in which he had made so great a progress, that the parlia- ment had passed all the acts concerning it before he received the news from Rome: for he judged that the best way to secure his cause was tolet Rome see his power, and with what vigour he could make war. All the rest of the world looked on astonished to see the court of Rome throw off England, as if it had been weary of the obedience and profits of so great a kingdom. In England people of nearly all ranks had been examin- ing the foundations on which the papal authority was built with extraor- dinary care for some years; and several books were written on that PAGE 316 subject. It was demonstrated, that all the apostles were made equal in the powers that Christ gave them; that he often condemned their contests about superiority, but never declared in St. Peter's favour. St. Paul withstood him to his face, and reckoned himself not inferior to him. If the dignity of a person left any authority with the city in which he sat, then Antioch must carry it rather than Rome; and Jerusalem, where Christ suffered, was to be preferred to all the world, for it was truly the mother-church. Christ said to Peter, "Upon this rock will I build my church." The agents understood by the rock either the confession Peter had made, or, which is the same, Christ himself; and though it were to be meant of St. Peter, all the rest of the apostles are also called foundations; and the injunction, "Tell the church," was by many doctors of Rome turned against the pope for a general council. The other privileges ascribed to St. Peter, were either only a precedence of order, or were occasioned by his fall; as that, "Feed my sheep," being a restoration of him to the apostolic functions. St. Peter had also a limited province, the circumcision, as St. Paul had the uncircumcision, which was of far greater extent, and which shewed that Peter was not considered as the universal pastor. Several sees, as Ravenna, Milan, and Aquilea, pretended exemption from the papal authority. Many English bishops had asserted that the popes had no authority against the canons, and to that day no canon made by the pope was binding till it was received, which shewed the pope's authority was not believed to be founded on divine authority; and the contests that the kings of England had with the popes concerning investitures, bishops doing the king homage, appeals to Rome, and the authority of papal bulls and provi- sions, shewed that the pope's power was subject to law and custom, and so not derived from Christ and St. Peter; and as laws had given them some power, and princes had been forced in ignorant ages to submit to their usurpations, so they might as they saw cause change those laws, and resume their rights. The next point enquired into was, the authority that kings had in matters of religion and the church. In the New Testament, Christ was himself subject to the civil powers, and charged his disciples not to affect temporal dominion. The apostles also wrote to the churches to be subject to the higher powers, and to call them supreme; they charged every soul to be subject to them: in scrip- ture the king is called head and supreme, and every soul is said to be under him, which joined with the other parts of their sage argument, brought the wise men of that day to the conclusion, that he is supreme head over all persons. In the primitive church the bishops only made rules or canons, but pretended to no compulsive authority, but what came from the civil magistrate. Upon the whole matter, they concluded that the pope had no power in England, and that the king had an entire domin- ion over all his subjects which extended even to the regulating of ecclesiastical matters. These questions being fully discussed in many disputes, and published in several books, all the bishops, abbots, and friars of England, Fisher only excepted, were so far satisfied with them, that they resolved to comply with the changes the king was deter- mined to make. At the next meeting of parliament there were but seven PAGE 317 bishops and twelve abbots present, the rest it seems were unwilling to concur in making this change, though they complied with it when it was made. Every Sunday during the session a bishop preached at St. Paul's, and declared that the pope had no authority in England: before this, they had only said that a general council was above him, and that the exactions of that court, and appeals to it, were unlawful; but now they went a strain higher, to prepare the people for receiving the acts then in agitation. On the 9th of March the commons began the bill for taking away the pope's power, and sent it to the lords on the 14th, who passed it on the 20th without any dissent. In it they set forth the exaction of the court of Rome, grounded on the pope's power of dispensation; and that as none could dispense with the laws of God, so the king and par- liament only had the authority of dispensing with the laws of the land: therefore such licences as were formerly in use, should be for the future granted by the two archbishops, to be confirmed under the great seal. It was moreover appointed that, thereafter, all commerce with Rome should cease. They also declared that they did not intend to alter any article of the catholic faith of Christendom, or that which was declared in the scripture necessary to salvation. They confirmed all the exemptions granted to monasteries by the popes, but subjected them to the king's visitation, and gave the king and his council power to exam- ine and reform all indulgencies and privileges granted by the pope: the offenders against this law were to be punished according to the statutes of praemunire. This act subjected the monasteries entirely to the king's authority, and put them in no small confusion. Those who loved the reformation rejoiced to see the pope's power rooted out, and to find the scripture made the standard of religion. After this act another passed both houses in six days' time without any opposition, settling the succession of the crown, confirming the sentence of divorce, and the king's marriage with queen Anne, and declaring all marriages within the degrees prohibited by Moses to be unlawful: all that had married within them were appointed to be divorced, and their issue illegitimatized; and the succession to the crown was settled upon the king's issue by the present queen, or in default of that to the king's right heirs for ever. All were required to swear to maintain the contents of this act; and if any refused the oath, or should say any thing to the slander of the king's marriage, he was to be judged guilty of misprision of treason, and to be punished accordingly. About this time one Phillips complained to the house of commons of the bishop of London for using him cruelly in prison upon suspicion of heresy: the commons sent up this to the lords, but received no answer; they therefore sent some of their members to the bishop, desiring him to reply to the complaints put in against him: but he acquainted the house of lords with it; and they with one consent voted, that none of their house ought to appear or answer to any complaint at the bar of the house of commons. On this the commons let this case fall, and sent up a bill to which the lords agreed, regulating the proceedings against heretics: that whereas, by the statute made by Henry the Fourth, bishops might commit men upon suspicion of heresy; and heresy was generally defined to be whatever was contrary to the scrip- PAGE 318 tures or canonical sanctions, which was liable to great ambiguity; therefore that statute was repealed, and none were to be committed for heresy but upon a presentment made by two witnesses; none were to be accused for speaking against things that were grounded only upon the pope's canons. Bail was to be taken for heretics, and they were to be brought to their trial in open court; and if upon conviction they did not abjure, or relapsed after abjuration, they were to be burnt; a royal writ being first obtained. This was a great check to the bishops' tyran- ny, and gave no small encouragement to all that favoured the reforma- tion. The convocation sent in a submission at the same time, by which they acknowledged that all the convocations ought to be assembled by the king's writ; and promised upon the words of priests, never to make nor execute any canons without the king's assent. They also desired, that since many of the received canons were found to be contrary to the king's prerogative and the laws of the land, there might be a committee named by the king of thirty-two, the one half out of the houses of parliament and the other from the clergy, empowered to abrogate or regulate them as they should see cause. This was confirmed in parlia- ment, and the act against appeal to Rome was renewed; and an appeal was allowed from the archbishop to the king, upon which the lord chancellor was to grant a commission for a court of delegates. Another act passed for regulating the elections and consecrations of bishops, condemning all bulls from Rome, and appointing that upon a vacancy the king should grant licence for an election, and should by a missive letter signify the person's name whom he would have chosen; and within twelve days after these were delivered, the dean and the chapter, or prior and convent, were required to return an election of the person named by the king under their seals. The bishop elect was upon that to swear fealty, and a writ was to be issued for his consecration in the usual manner; after that he was to do homage to the king, upon which both the tempo- ralities and spiritualities were to be restored, and bishops were to exercise their jurisdictions as they had done before. All who trans- gressed this act were made guilty of a praemunire. A private act passed depriving cardinal Campegio and Jerome de Gainuccii of the bishoprics of Salisbury and Worcester: the reasons given for it were, because they did not reside in their dioceses, for preaching the laws of God, and keeping hospitality, but lived at the court of Rome, and drew 3,000l. a year out of the kingdom. The last act of a particular nature, though relating only to private persons, was concerning the nun of Kent and her accom- plices. It was the first occasion of shedding blood in these disputes, and it was much cherished by all the superstitious clergy who adhered to the queen's and the pope's interests. The nun, and many of her accom- plices, came to the bar of the house of lords and confessed the whole matter. Among the concealers of this treason, Sir Thomas More and Fisher were named; the former of whom wrote a long letter upon the subject to Cromwell giving him a particular account of all the conversations he had with the nun: he acknowledged he had esteemed her highly, not so much out of any regard to her prophecies, but for the opinion he conceived of her holiness and humility. But he added, that he was then convinced PAGE 319 that she was the most dissembling hypocrite he had ever known, and guilty of the most detestable hypocrisy and devilish falsehood: he also believed that she had communication with an evil spirit. This justifica- tion of More's prevailed so far, that his name of was struck out of the bill. The tale of the nun thus incidentally referred to is worth tell- ing. Her name was Elizabeth Barton; she lived in Kent, and in occasional trances into which she fell, she spake such things as made those about her think she was inspired of God. The parson of her parish, named Master, hoping to draw advantage from this, informed archbishop Warham of it, who ordered him to watch her carefully, and bring him an account of whatever he should observe. But it seems she forgot all that she said in her fits when they were over. The artful priest however would not suffer his hopes thus to pass away, but persuaded her she was inspired, and taught her so to counterfeit those trances, that she became very expert in the trick, and could assume them at her pleasure. The matter was soon noised about, and the priest intended to raise the credit of an image of the blessed virgin, which stood in his church, that so pilgri- mages and offerings might be made to it by her means. He accordingly associated to himself one Bocking, a monk of Canterbury, and they taught her to say in her fits, that the blessed virgin appeared to her, and told her she could not be well till she visited that image. She spake many good words against ill life, and also against heresy, and the king's suit of divorce then depending; and by many strange motions of her body she seemed to be inwardly possessed. Soon after this, a day was appointed for her cure; and before an assemblage of two thousand people, she was carried to that image: and after she had acted over her fits, she seemed suddenly to recover, which was ascribed to the inter- cession of the virgin, and the virtue of her image. She then took the veil, and Bocking was her confessor: but between this wolf in sheep's clothing and Elizabeth many persons strongly suspected a criminal inter- course to subsist; while the esteem she was held in bore them down. Many PAGE 320 thought her a prophetess, and Warham among the rest. A book was written of her revelations, and an epistle was shewed in letters of gold, pretended to be written to her from Heaven by Mary Magdalen. She said, that when the king was last at Calais, she was carried invisibly beyond sea, and brought back again; that an angel gave her the sacrament, and that God revealed to her that if the king went on in his divorce, and married another wife, he should fall from his crown and not live a month longer, but should die a villain's death. Several monks of the Charter- house, and the observant friars, with many nuns, and bishop Fisher, came to give credit to all this, set a great value on the woman, and grew very insolent upon her visions. Friar Peyto, preaching in the king's chapel at Greenwich, denounced the judgments of God upon him; and said, though others as lying prophets deceived him, yet he, in the name of God told him, that dogs should lick his blood as they had done Ahab's. The king bore this patiently, contenting himself with ordering Dr. Corren to preach the next Sunday, and to answer all that he had said; who railed against Peyto as a dog and a traitor. Peyto had gone to Canterbury; but Elston, a Franciscan of the same house, interrupted him, and called him one of the lying prophets who went about to establish the succession of the crown by adultery, and spoke with such vehemence, that the king him- self was forced to command silence. So unwilling was Henry to go to ext- remities, that all which was done upon so high a provocation was, that the parties were summoned before the council, and rebuked for their in- solence. The nun's confederates proceeding to publish her revelations in all parts of the kingdom, she and nine of her accomplices were at length apprehended, when they all, without any rack or torture, discovered the whole conspiracy. Upon this confession they were appointed to go to St. Paul's, where, after a sermon preached upon the occasion by the bishop of Bangor, they repeated their confession in the hearing of the people, and were sent as prisoners to the Tower. It was given out of course by the papal party that all was extorted from them by violence, and messag- es were sent to the nun, inducing her to deny all that she had con- fessed. The king, on this, judged it necessary to proceed to further extremities: accordingly she and six of her chief accomplices were attainted of treason, and the bishop of Rochester and five more were attainted of misprision of treason. But at the intercession of queen Anne, as is expressed in the act, all others that had been concerned with her were pardoned. After this, the nun with her coadjutors were executed at Tyburn. There she voluntary confessed herself to be an impostor, and acknowledged the justice of her sentence, laying the blame on those who suffered with her, by whom she had been seduced into the crime; adding, that they had exalted her for no other cause than for her having been of great profit to them, and they had presumed to say, that all she had done was through the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, when they were sensible the whole was human artifice. She then begged pardon of God and the king, and resigned herself to her fate. Thus ended one of the vilest impostures ever known in this country. Had this fallen out in a darker age, in which the world went mad after visions, the king might PAGE 321 have lost his crown by it. The discovery of it disposed all to look on older stories of the trances of monastical people, as contrivances to serve base ends, and made way for the ruin of that order of men in England; but all that followed at present upon it was, that the Observ- ants were put out of their houses, and mixed with the other Franciscans and the Austin friars were put in their room. On the first discovery of the imposture, Cromwell sent Fisher's brother to him to reprove him for his conduct in that business, and to advise him to ask the king's pardon for the encouragement he had given to the nun, which he was confident the king would grant him. But Fisher excused himself, and said he had only tried whether her revelations were true or not. He confessed, that upon the reports he had heard, he was induced to have a high opinion of her, and that he had never discovered any falsehood in her. It is true, she had said some things to him concerning the king's death which he had not revealed; but he thought it was not necessary to do it, because he knew she had told them to the king herself: she had named no person that should kill the king, but had only denounced it as a judgment of God upon him: and he had reason to think that the king would have been offended with him if he had spoken of it to him: he therefore desired to be no more troubled with that matter. On this statement Cromwell wrote him a sharp letter shewing him that he had proceeded rashly in that affair; being so partial in the matter of the king's divorce, that he easily believed every thing that seemed to make against it. Moreover, he told him how necessary it was to use great caution before extraordinary things should be received or spread about as revelations, since other- wise the peace of the world would be in the hands of every bold and crafty impostor; and in conclusion, he advised him again to ask the king's pardon for his rashness, and he assured him that the king was ready to forgive him. But Fisher would make no submission, and was in consequence included within the act; though it was not executed till a new provocation drew him into farther trouble. The secular and regular clergy every where took the oath of succession, which none more zealous- ly promoted than Gardiner, who before the 6th of May got all his clergy to swear it: and the religious orders being apprehensive of the king's jealousies of them, took care to remove them by sending in declarations under the seals of their houses, that in their opinion the king's present marriage was lawful, and that they would always acknowledge him head of the church of England. A meeting of the council was held at Lambeth, to which many were cited that they might take the oath, among whom were Sir Thomas More and Fisher. More was first summoned to take it: he answered, that he neither blamed those that made the acts, nor those that took the oath; and that he was willing to swear to maintain the succession to the crown, but could not take the oath as it was expressed. Fisher made the same answer, but all the rest that were cited before them took it. More was pressed to give his reasons against it: but he refused, for it might be called a disputing against law: yet he would put them into writing if the king commanded him to do it. Cranmer said, if he did not blame those that took it, it seems he was PAGE 322 not persuaded it was a sin, and so was only doubtful of it; but he was sure he ought to obey the law, if it was not sinful: so there was a certainty on one hand, and only a doubt on the other, and therefore the former ought to determine him. This More confessed did shake him a little, but he said he thought in his conscience that it would be a sin in him. In conclusion, both he and Fisher declared that they thought it was in the power of the parliament to settle the succession to the crown, and so were ready to swear to that; but they could not take the oath that was tended to them, for by it they must swear to maintain the king's former marriage as unlawful, to which they could not assent; so they were both committed to the Tower, and denied the use of pen, ink, and paper. The old bishop was also hardly used both in his raiment and diet; he had only rags to cover him, and fire was often denied him; a cruelty not capable of excuse, and as barbarous as it was imprudent. In winter parliament met again, and the first act that passed declared the king to be supreme head on earth of the church of England, which was ordered to be prefixed to other titles; and it was enacted, that he and his successors should have full authority to reform all heresies and abuses in the spiritual jurisdiction. By another act, parliament con- firmed the oath of succession, which had not been specified in the former, though agreed to by the lords. They also gave the king the first-fruits and tenths of ecclesiastical benefices, as being the supreme head of the church; for the king being put in the pope's room, it was thought reasonable to give him the annats which the popes had formerly exacted. Another act passed, declaring some things treason; one of these was the denying the king any of his titles, or calling him heretic, schismatic, or usurper of the crown. By another act, provision was made for setting up twenty-six suffragan bishops over England, for the more speedy administration of the sacraments, and the better service of God. The supreme diocesan was to present two names to the king, and upon the king's declaring his choice, the archbishop was to consecrate the person, and then the bishop was to delegate such parts of his charge to his care as he thought fitting, which was to continue during his pleasure. The great extent of the dioceses in England made it difficult for one bishop to govern them with that exactness that was necessary; these were therefore appointed to assist them in the discharge of the pastoral care. Fisher and More, by two special acts, were attainted of misprision of treason; five other clerks were in like manner condemned, all for refusing to take the oath of succession. The see of Rochester was declared void; yet it would seem that few were willing to succeed such a man, for it continued vacant two years, and was at last with difficulty filled. But now a new scene commenced; and before we enter upon it we shall find it necessary to state the progress that the new opinions had made in England during the time of the king's suit of divorce. While Wolsey was a minister, the reformed preachers were gently PAGE 323 used; and it is probable the king ordered the bishops to give over their enquiring after them, when the pope began to use him ill; for the progress of heresy was always reckoned at Rome among the mischiefs that would follow upon the pope's rejecting the king's suit. But More coming into favour, he offered new counsels, and thought the king's proceeding severely against heretics would be so meritorious at Rome, that it would work more effectually than all his threatenings had done. Upon this, a severe proclamation was issued both against their books and persons, ordering all the laws against them to be put in execution. Tindal and others at Antwerp were every year either translating or writing books against some of the received errors, and sending them over to England: but his translation of the New Testament gave the greatest wound, and was much complained of by the clergy as full of errors. Tonstal, then bishop of London, being a man of great learning, returning from the treaty of Cambray, to which More and he were sent in the king's name, as he came through Antwerp, dealt with an English merchant who was secretly a friend of Tindal's, to procure him as many of his Testaments as could be had for money. Tindal gladly received this; for being engaged in a more correct edition, he found he should be better able to proceed if the copies of the old were sold off; he therefore gave the merchant all he had, and Tonstall paying the price of them, got them over to England, and burnt them publicly in Cheapside. This was called a burning of the word of God: and it was said the clergy had reason to revenge themselves on it; for it had done them more mischief than all other books whatso- ever. But a year after this, the second edition being finished, great numbers were sent over to England, when Constantine, one of Tindal's partners, happened to be taken: believing that some of the London mer- chants furnished them with money, he was promised his liberty if he would discover who they were, when he told him the bishop of London did more than all the world beside; for he had bought up the greatest part of a faulty impression. The clergy, on their condemning Tindal's trans- lation, promised a new one; but a year after they said it was unnecess- ary to publish the Scriptures in English, and that the king did well not to set about it. About this time a singular book written by one Fish, of Gray's Inn, was published. It was entitled,"The Supplication of the Beg- gars," and had a vast sale. The beggars complained that the alms of the people were intercepted by the mendicant friars, who were a useless bur- then to the government; they also taxed the pope with cruelty for taking no pity on the poor, since none but those who could pay for it were del- ivered out of purgatory. The king was so pleased with this publication, that he would not suffer anything to be done against the author. More answered it by another supplication in behalf of the souls in purgatory; setting forth the miseries they were in, and the relief which they rec- eived by the masses that were said for them: and therefore called upon their friends to support the religious orders which had now so many enemies. Fish published a serious answer, in which he shewed that there was no mention made of purgatory in scripture; that it was inconsistent with the merits of Christ,by which upon sincere repentance all sins were PAGE 324 pardoned; for if they were pardoned, they could not be punished; and though temporary judgments, either as medicinal corrections or a warning to others, do sometimes fall even on true penitents, yet fiery punish- ments in another state cannot consist with a free pardon and the remem- bering of our sins no more. In expounding many passages of the New Test- ament, he appealed to More's great friend Erasmus, and shewed that the fire spoken of by St. Paul, as that which would consume the wood, hay, and stubble, could only be meant of the fiery trial of persecution. He shewed that the primitive church did not receive the doctrine of purga- tory. Ambrose, Jerome, and Austin did not believe it; the last having plainly said that no mention was made of it in scripture.The monks alone brought it in; and by many wonderful stories possessed the world of the belief of it, and had made a very profitable trade in it. This book so provoked the clergy, that they resolved to make the author feel a real fire, for endeavouring to extinguish their imaginary one. More objected poverty and want of learning to the new preachers; but it was answered, the same thing was made use of to disgrace Christ and his apostles while a plain simplicity of mind, without artificial improvements, was rather thought a good disposition for men that were to bear a cross, and the glory of God appeared more eminent than the instruments seemed contempt- ible.But the pen being thought too feeble and gentle a tool, the clergy betook themselves to persecution. Many were vexed with imprisonments for teaching their children the Lord's prayer in English, for harbouring the preachers, and for speaking against the corruptions in the worship, or the vices of the clergy but these generally abjured and saved themselves from death. Others more faithful were honoured with martyrdom. One Hinton, formerly a curate who had gone over to Tindal, was seized on his way back with some books he was conveying to England, and was condemned by archbishop Warham. He was kept long in prison; but remaining firm to his cause, he was at length burned at Maidstone. But the most remarkable martyr of this day was Thomas Bilney, who was brought up at Cambridge from a child, and became a bold and uncompromising reformer. On leaving the university, he went into several places and preached; and in his sermons spoke with great boldness against the pride and insolence of the clergy. This was during the ministry of Wolsey, who hearing of his attacks, caused him to be seized and imprisoned. Overcome with fear, Bilney abjured, was pardoned and returned to Cambridge in the year 1530. Here he fell into great horror of mind in consequence of his instability and the denial of the truth. He became ashamed of himself, bitterly repented of his sin, and, growing strong in faith, resolved to make some atonement by a public avowal of his apostacy and confession of his senti- Page 325 ments. To prepare himself for his task, he studied the scriptures with deep attention for two years; at the expiration of which he again quit- ted the university, and went into Norfolk, where he was born, and preached up and down that country against idolatry and superstition; exhorting the people to live well, to give much alms, to believe in Christ, and to offer up their souls and wills to him in the sacrament. He openly confessed his own sin of denying the faith; and using no precaution as he went about, was soon taken by the bishop's officers, condemned as a relapse, and degraded. Sir Thomas More not only sent down the writ to burn him, but in order to make him suffer another way, he affirmed that he had said in print that he had abjured; but no paper signed by him was ever shewn, and little credit was due to the priests that gave it out that he did it by word of mouth. Parker, afterwards archbishop, was an eye-witness of his sufferings. He bore all his hard- ships with great fortitude and resignation, and continued very cheerful after his sentence. He ate the poor provisions that were brought him heartily, saying, He must keep up a ruinous cottage till it fell. He had these words of Isaiah often in his mouth, "When thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned:" and by burning his finger in the candle, he prepared himself for the fire, and said it would only consume the stubble of his body, while it would purify his soul, and give it a swifter conveyance to the region where Elijah was conveyed by another fiery chariot. On the 10th of November he was brought to the stake, where he repeated the creed, as a proof that he was a true Christian. He then prayed earnestly, and with the deepest feeling offered this prayer - "Enter not into judgment with thy servant, O Lord, for in thy sight no flesh living can be justified." Dr. Warner attended and embraced him, shedding many tears, and wishing he might die in as good a frame of mind as Bilney then was. The friars requested him to inform the people, that they were not instrumental to his death, which he did, so that the last act of his life was full of charity, even to those who put him to death. The officers then put the reeds and fagots about his body, and set fire to the first, which made a great flame, and disfigured his face: he held up his hands, and often struck his breast, crying sometimes "Jesus!" sometimes "Credo!" but the flame was blown away from him several times, the wind being very high, till at length the wood taking fire, the flame was stronger, and he yielded up his spirit to God who gave it. As his body shrunk up it leaned down on the chain, till one of the officers with his halberd struck out the staple of the chain behind him, on which it fell down into the bottom of the fire, when they heaped up wood upon it and consumed it. The sufferings, the confession, and the heroic death of this martyr, inspired and animated others with the same fortitude. Byfield, who had formerly abjured, was taken dispersing Tindal's books; and he, with one Tewkesbury, were condemned by the bishop of London, and burnt. Two men and a woman suffered the same fate at York. Of these PAGE 326 proceedings the parliament complained to the king; but this did not check the sanguinary proceedings of the clergy. One Bainham, a counsel- lor of the Temple, was taken on suspicion of heresy, was whipped in the presence of Sir T. More, and afterwards racked in the Tower; yet he could not be wrought on to accuse any: through fear, however, he abjured himself. After this being discharged, he was in great trouble of mind, and could find no quiet till he went publicly to church, where he openly confessed his sins, and declared the torments he felt in his conscience for what he had done. Upon this he was again seized on, and condemned for having said that Thomas `a Becket was a murderer, and was damned if he had not repented; and that in the sacramant, Christ's body was received by faith, and not eaten with the mouth. Sentence was passed on him by Stokesly, and he was burnt. Soon after this More delivered up the great seal, in consequence of which the preachers had some ease. The rage of persecution stopped not at the living, but vented itself even on the dead. Lord Tracy made a will by which he left his soul to God, in hope of mercy through Christ, without the help of any saint; and there- fore he declared that he would leave nothing for soul-masses. This will being brought into the bishop of London's court to be proved, after his death, gave so much offence, that he was condemned as a heretic, and an order was sent to the Chancellor of Worcester to raise his body; but he proceeded farther and burnt it, which could not be justified, since he was not a relapse. Tracy's heir sued him for it, and he was turned out of his place, and fined 400l. The clergy proclaimed an indulgence of forty days' pardon to any that carried a fagot to the burning of a heretic, that so cruelty might seem the more meritorious. And aged man, Harding, being condemned by Longland, bishop of Lincoln, as he was tied to the stake, a barbarian flung a fagot with such force against him, that it dashed out his brains. The reformed enjoyed a respite of two years, when the crafty Gardiner represented to the king, that it would give him great advantages against the pope if he would take some occa- sion to shew his hatred of heresy. Accordingly a young man named Frith was chosen as a sacrifice for this affected zeal for religion. He was distinguished for learning, and was the first who wrote against the corporeal presence in the sacrament in England. He followed Zuinglius's doctrine on these grounds: Christ received in the sacrament gave eternal life, but this was given only to those who believed, from which he inferred that he was received only by faith. St. Paul said, that the fathers before Christ eat the same spiritual food with christians; from which it appears that Christ is now no more corporeally present to us than he was to them; and he argued from the nature of sacraments in general, and the end of the Lord's supper, that it was only a commemora- tion. Yet, upon these premises, he built no other conclusion but that Christ's presence was no article of faith. His reasons he put in writ- ing, which falling into the hands of Sir Thomas More, were answered by him: but Frith never saw his publication till he was put in prison; and then, though he was loaded with irons, and had no books allowed, he replied. He insisted much on the argument, that the Israelites did eat the same food, and drank of the same rock, and that rock was Christ; and PAGE 327 since Christ was only mystically and by faith received by them, he concluded that he was at the present time also received only in the same manner. He shewed that Christ's words, "This is my body," were accommo- dated to the Jewish phrase of calling the lamb the Lord's passover; and confirmed his opinion with many passages out of the fathers, in which the elements were called signs and figures of Christ's body; and they said, that upon consecration they did not cease to be bread and wine, but remained still in their own proper natures. He also shewed that the fathers were strangers to all the consequences of that opinion, as that a body could be in more places than one at the same time, or could be every where in the manner of a spirit: yet he concluded, that if that opinion were held only as a speculation, so that adoration were not offered to the elements, it might be well tolerated, but that he con- demned it as gross idolatry. This was intended by him to prevent such heats in England, as were raised in Germany between the Lutherans and Helvetians, by reason of their different opinions concerning the sacra- ment. For these offences he was seized in May, 1533, and brought before Stokesly, Gardiner, and Longland. They charged him with not believing in purgatory and transubstantiation. He gave the reasons that determined him to look on neither of these as articles of faith; but thought that the affirming or denying them ought to be determined positively. The bishops seemed unwilling to proceed to sentence; but he continuing resolute, Stokesly pronounced it, and so delivered him to the secular arm, insisting that his punishment might be moderated, so that the rigour might not be too extreme, nor yet the gentleness of it too much mitigated. This obtestation by the bowels of Christ was thought a mockery, when all the world knew that it was intended that he should be burnt. One Hewitt, an apprentice of London, was also condemned with him on the same account. They were brought to the stake at Smithfield on the 4th of July, 1533. On arriving there, Frith expressed great joy, and hugged the fagots with seeming transport. A priest named Cook, who stood by, called to the people not to pray for them more than they would do for a dog: at this Frith smiled, and prayed God to forgive him after which the fire was kindled, which consumed them both to ashes. This was the last instance of the cruelty of the clergy at present; for the act already mentioned, regulating their proceedings, followed soon after. Phillips, at whose complaint that bill was begun, was committed upon suspicion of heresy; a copy of Tracy's will was found about him, and butter and cheese were also found in his chamber in Lent; but he being required to abjure, appealed to the king as supreme judge in such mat- ters. Upon that he was set at liberty; but whether he was tried by the king or not, is not upon record. The act being passed, gave the new preachers and their followers some respite. The king was also empowered to reform all heresies and idolatries: and his affairs now obliged him to unite himself to the princes of Germany, that by their means he might so embroil the emperor's affairs, as not to give him leisure to turn his arms against England; and this produced a slackening of all severities PAGE 328 against the reformers at home; for those princes, in the first fervour of the reformation, made it an article in all their treaties, that none should be prosecuted for favouring their doctrine. The queen also openly protected them; she took Latimer and Shaxton to be her chaplains, and promoted them to the bishoprics of Worcester and Salisbury. Cranmer was fully convinced of the necessity of a reformation, and that he might carry it on with true judgment, and justify it by good authorities, he made a careful collection of the opinions of the ancient fathers and later doctors, in all the points of religion, comprising six folio volumes. He was a man of great candour and much paitence and industry; and thus was on all accounts well prepared for that work, to which the providence of God now called him: and though he was in some things too much subject to the king's imperious temper, yet in the matter of the six articles, he shewed that he wanted not the courage that became a bishop in the most critical affairs. Cromwell was his great and constant friend; a man of mean birth but of excellent qualities, as appeared in his adhering to his master Wolsey after his fall. The following incid- ent strongly characterizes the generous temper of this minister:- At the height of his prosperity he happened to see a merchant of Lucca, who had pitied and relieved him when he was in Italy, but did not so much as know him, or pretended to any returns for the small favours he had formerly shewed him, and was then reduced to a low condition. Cromwell, however, made himself known to him, gave him the strongest acknowledg- ments and the most substantial proofs of his gratitude and liberality. While these men set themselves to carry on a reformation, another party was formed who as vigorously opposed it. This was headed by the duke of Norfolk and Gardiner; and almost all the clergy joined with them. They persuaded the king that nothing would give the pope or the emperor such advantages, as his making any changes in religion; and it would reflect much on him, if he who had written so learnedly for the faith, should in spite to the pope make any changes in it. Nothing would encourage other princes so much to follow his example, or keep his subjects so faithful- ly to him, as his continuing steadfast in the ancient religion. These things made a great impression on him. On the other hand, Cranmer repre- sented to him that if he rejected the pope's authority it was very absurd to let such opinions or practices continue in the church which had no other foundation but papal decrees; and therefore he desired that this might be put to the trial; he ought to depend on God, and hope for good success if he proceeded in this matter according to the duty of a christian prince. England was a complete body within itself; and though in the Roman empire, when united under one prince general councils were easily assembled, yet now they were not easily to be converted, and therefore should not be relied on; but every prince ought to reform the church in his dominions by a national synod; and if in the ancient church such synods condemned heresies, and reformed abuses, this might be much more done, when Europe was divided into so many kingdoms. It was visible that though both the emperor and the princes of Germany had for twenty years desired a general council, it could not be obtained of the PAGE 329 pope; he had indeed offered one at Mantua, but that was only an illu- sion. Upon this the king desired others of his bishops to give their opinions concerning the emperor's power of calling councils; so Cranmer of Canterbury, Tonstal of London, Clark of Bath and Wells, and Goodrick of Ely, made answer, that though ancient councils were called by the Roman emperors, yet that was done by reason of the extent of their monarchy, which had now ceased, and other princes had an entire monarchy within their dominions. At this assembly of prelates Cranmer made a long speech, setting forth the necessity of reformation. He began with the impostures and deceit used by the canonists and other courtiers at Rome. Then he spoke to the authority of a general council; he shewed that it flowed not from the number of the bishops, but from the matter of their decisions, which were received with an universal consent; for there were many more bishops at the council of Arimini, which was condemned, than either at Nice or Constantinople, which was received. Christ had named no head of the whole church, as God had named no head of the world; but that grew up for order's sake, as there were archbishops set over prov- inces; yet some popes were condemned for heresy, as Liberius and others. If faith must be showed by works, the ill lives of most popes of late shewed that their faith was to be suspected; and all the privileges which princes or synods granted to that see might be recalled. Popes ought to submit themselves to general councils, and were to be tried by them; he showed what were the present corruptions of the pope and his court, which needed reformation. The pope, according to the decree of the council of Basil, was the church's vicar, and not Christ's; and so was accountable to it. The churches of France declared the council to be above the pope, which had been acknowledged by many popes themselves. The power of councils had also bounds, nor could they judge of the rights of princes, or proceed to a sentence against a king; nor were their canons of any force till princes added their sanctions to them. Councils ought also to proceed moderately, even against those that held errors, and ought not to impose things indifferent too severely. The scriptures, and not men's traditions, ought to be the standard of their definitions. The divines of Paris held, that a council could not make a new article of faith that was not in the scriptures; and all Christ's promises to the church were to be understood with this condition, "if they kept the faith:" therefore there was great reason to doubt concern- ing the authority of a council; some of them had contradicted others, and many others were never received. The fathers had always appealed to the scriptures, as superior in authority to councils, by which only all controversies ought to be decided: yet, on the other hand, it was dan- gerous to be wise in one's own conceit, and hethought when the fathers all agreed in the exposition of any place of scripture, that ought to be looked on as flowing from the spirit of God. He showed how little regard was to be had to a council, in which the pope presided, and that if any common error had passed upon the world, when that came to be discovered, every one was at liberty to shake it off, even though they had sworn to maintain that error: this he applied to the pope's authority. This was the state of the court after king Henry had shaken off the pope's power, PAGE 330 and assumed a supremacy in ecclesiastical affairs. The nobility and gentry were generally well satisfied with the change; but the body of the people were more under the power of the priests, who studied to infuse into them great fears of a change in religion. It was said the king now joined himself to heretics; that both the queen, Cranmer, and Cromwell favoured them. It was left free to dispute what were articles of faith, and what were only the decrees of popes; and changes would be made under this pretence, that they only rejected those opinions which were supported by the papal authority. The monks and friars saw them- selves left at the king's mercy. Their bulls could be no longer useful to them. The trade of new saints, and indulgences, was now at an end; they had also some intimations that Cromwell was forming a project for suppressing them: so they thought it necessary for their own preserva- tion to embroil the king's affairs as much as was possible; therefore both in confessions and discourses, they were inspiring the people with a dislike of his proceedings. But the practices of the clergy at home, and of cardinal Pole abroad, the libels there were published, and the rebellions that were afterwards raised in England, wrought so much on the king's temper, naturally imperious and boisterous, that he became too apt to commit acts of severity, and to bring his subjects into trouble upon slight grounds; and his new title of head of the church seemed to have increased his former vanity, and made him fancy that all his subjects were bound to regulate their belief by the measures he set them. The bishops and abbots did what they could to free the king of any jealousies he might have of them; and of their own accord, before any law was made about it, they swore to maintain the king's supremacy. The first act of it was making Cromwell vicar-general, and visitor of all the monasteries and churches of England, with a delegation of the king's supremacy to him; he was also empowered to give commissions subaltern to himself; and all wills, where the estate was in value above 200l. were to be proved in his court. This was afterwards enlarged, and he was made the king's vicegerent in ecclesiastical matters, and had the precedence of all next the royal family; and his authority was in all points the same as the pope's legates. Pains were taken to engage all the clergy to declare for the supremacy. At Oxford a public determina- tion was made, to which every member assented, that the pope had no more authority in England than any other foreign bishop. The Franciscans at Richmond made some opposition; they said that by the rule of St. Fran- cis, they were bound to obey the holy see. The bishop of Litchfield told them that all the bishops in England, all the heads of houses, and the most learned divines, had signed that proposition. St. Francis made his rule in Italy, where the bishop of Rome was metropolitan, but that ought not to extend to England: and it was shewed that the chapter cited by them was not written by him, but added since; yet they continued posi- tive in their refusal to sign it. It is well known that all the monks and friars, though they appeared to comply, yet hated this new power of the king's; the people were also startled at it: so one Dr Leighton, who PAGE 331 had been in the cardinal's service with Cromwell, proposed a general visitation of all the religious houses in England; and thought that nothing would reconcile the nation so much to the king's supremacy, as to see some good effect flow from it. Others deemed this too bold a step, and feared it would provoke the religious orders too much. Yet it was known that they were guilty of such disorders, as nothing could so effectually check as enquiry. Cranmer led the way to this by a metropol- itan visitation, for which he obtained the king's licence: he took care to see that the pope's name was struck out of all the offices of the church, and that the king's supremacy was generally acknowledged. In October the general visitation of the monasteries commenced; which was divided into several precincts: instructions were given them what things to enquire after, as whether the houses had the full number according to their foundation? if they performed divine worship in the appointed hours? what exemptions they had? what were their statutes? how their heads were chosen? and how their vows were observed? Whether they lived according to the severities of their orders? how the master and other officers did their duties? how their lands and revenues were managed? what hospitality was kept? what care was taken of the novices? what benefices were in their gift, and how they disposed of them? how the inclosures of the nunneries were preserved? whether the nuns went abroad, or if men were admitted to come to them? how they employed their time, and what priests they had for their confessors? They were also ordered to give them some injunctions in the king's name, that they should acknowledge his supremacy, and maintain the act of succession, and declare all to be absolved from rules or oath that bound them to obey the pope; and that all their statutes tending to that bond should be erased out of their books. That the abbots should not have choice dishes, but plain tables, for hospitality; and that the scriptures should be read at meals; that they should have daily lectures of divini- ty; and maintain some of every house at the university. The abbot was required to instruct the monks in true religion, and to shew them that it did not consist in outward ceremonies, but in clearness of heart, and purity of life, and worship of God in spirit and truth. Rules were given about their revenues, and against admitting any under twenty years of age. Visitors were empowered to punish offenders, or to bring them to answer before the visitor-general. What the ancient British monks were is not well known; whether they were governed according to the rules of the monks of Egypt or France, is matter of conjecture. They were in all things obedient to their bishops, as all the monks of the primitive times were. But upon the confusions which the Gothic war brought upon Italy, Benedict set up a new order with more artificial rules for its government. Not long after, Gregory the Great raised the credit of that order much, by his dialogues: and Austin the monk being sent by him to convert England, founded a monastery at Canterbury, which bore his name, and which both the king and Austin exempted from the archbishop's juris- diction. After that many other abbeys were founded and exempted by the PAGE 332 kings of England, if credit is due to the records and charters of the monasteries. In the end of the eighth century, the Danes made several descents upon England; and finding the most wealth and the least resist- ance in the monasteries, they generally plundered them, insomuch that the monks were forced to quit their seats, and leave them to the secular clergy: so that in King Edgar's time there was scarce a monk left in all England. He was a lewd and cruel prince: and Dunstan and other monks taking advantage from some horrors of conscience into which he fell, persuaded him that restoring the monastic state would be matter of great merit; on which he converted many of the chapters into monasteries. He only exempted them from all payments to the bishops; but others were exempted from episcopal jurisdiction. In some only the precinct was exempted; in others, the exemption was extended to all the lands or churches belonging to them. The latest exemption from episcopal juris- diction granted by any king, is that of Battel, founded by William the Conqueror. After this the exemptions were granted by the popes, who pretending to an universal jurisdiction, assumed this among other usur- pations. Some abbeys had also the privilege of being sanctuaries to all who fled to them. The foundation of all their wealth, was the belief of purgatory, and of the virtue that was in masses to redeem the souls of men; and that these eased the torments of departed spirits, and at last delivered them. Hence it passed among all for piety to parents, and of care for their own souls and families, to endow those houses with some lands, on condition that they should have masses said for them, as it was agreed on more or less frequently, according to the measure of the gift. This would have drawn the whole wealth of the nation into those houses, if the statute of Mortmain had not put some restraint to the practice. They also persuaded the world that the saints interceded for them, and would take it kindly at their hands, if they made great offer- ings to their shrines, and would thereupon intercede the more earnestly for them. The credulous vulgar, measuring the court of heaven by those on earth, believed presents might be of great efficacy there, and thought the new favourites would have the most weight in their interces- sions: so that upon every new canonization there was a fresh fit of devotion towards the last saint, whilst the elder was almost forgotten. Some images were believed to have an extraordinary virtue in them, and pilgrimages to these were much extolled. There was also great rivalry among the several orders, as well as the different houses of the same orders, every one magnifying their own saints, images, and relics most. The wealth of these houses brought them under great corruptions. They were generally very dissolute, and grossly ignorant. Their privileges were become a public grievance, and their lives gave great scandal to the world. So that, as they had found it easy to bear down the secular clergy, when their own vices were more secret, the begging friars found it easy to carry the esteem of the world from them. These, under the appearance of poverty, and coarse diet and clothing, gained much esteem, and became almost the only preachers and confessors then in the world. They had a general at Rome, from whom they received such directions as PAGE 333 the popes sent them; so that they were more useful to the papacy than the monks had been. They had also the school-learning in their hands, on which account they were generally much cherished. But living much in the world they could not conceal their vices so artfully as the monks had done; and though several reformations had been made of their orders, they had all fallen under great scandal and disesteem. The king intended to erect new bishoprics; but to do this it was necessary to make use of some of their revenues, and he thought the best way to bring their wealth into his hands, would be to expose their vices. Cranmer promoted this because the houses were founded on gross abuses, and subsisted by them; which were necessary to be removed if a reformation went on. The extent of many dioceses was also such, that one man could not oversee them; to remedy which, he intended to have more bishoprics founded, and to have houses at every cathedral for the education of those who should be employed in the pastoral charge. The visitors went over England, and found in many places monstrous disorders. The most unnatural crimes were found in many houses: great factions and barbarous cruelties were in others; and in some there were found tools for coining. The report contained many abominable things, not fit to be mentioned: some of these were printed, but the greater part were suppressed and concealed. The first house that was surrendered to the king was Langdon, in Kent; the abbot was found to live with a woman who went in the habit of a lay brother. To prevent greater evil to himself, he and ten of his monks signed a resignation of their house to the king. Two other monasteries in the same county, Folkstone and Dover, followed their example. And in the following year, four others made the like surrenders. In the year 1536, queen Katharine died. She had been resolute in maintaining her title and state, saying that when the pope had judged her marriage was good, she would die rather than do any thing to prejudice it. She de- sired to be buried among the Observant friars, who had most strongly supported and suffered for her cause. She ordered 500 masses to be said for her soul; and that one of her women should go a pilgrimage to our lady of Walsingham, and give two hundred nobles on her way to the poor. When she found death approaching, she wrote to the emperor, recommending her daughter Mary, who afterwards became queen, to his care. She also wrote to the king, with this inscription, "My dear lord, king, and husband." She forgave him all the injuries he had done her, and wished him to have regard to his soul. She recommended her daughter to his protection, and desired him to be kind to her three maids, and to pay her servants a year's wages. Strange to say, she concluded her letter to the king with this sentence, "Mine eyes desire you above all things." She expired on the eighth of January, at Kimbolton, in the fiftieth year of her age, having been thirty-three years in England. She was devout and exemplary; used to work with her own hands, and kept her women at work with her. Her alms-deeds, joined to her troubles, begat an esteem for her among all ranks of people. The king ordered her to be buried in the abbey of Peterborough, and was, or seemed to be considerably affect- ed at her death. The same year the parliament confirmed the act which empowered two to revise the ecclesiastical laws; but no time being limited for its completion it had no effect. The chief business of this session was the suppressing of monasteries under 200l. a year. The act set forth the great disorders of those houses, and the many unsuccessful attempts made to reform them. The few truly serious people that were in them were ordered to be placed in the greater houses, where religion was better observed, and the revenues given to the king. The king was also empowered to make new foundations of such of the suppressed houses as he pleased, which were in all three hundred and seventy. This parliament, after six years' continuance, was dissolved rather suddenly, and some- what against the will of the king. It was more than suspected, by persons interested in the preservation of the remaining monasteries, that they would soon share the fate of their predecessors, and the most strenuous efforts were therefore made to get rid of the parliament in order to keep a few of these obnoxious establishments in the land. In a convocation which sat at this time, a motion was made for translating the Bible into English, which had been promised when Tindal's transla- tion was condemned, but was afterwards laid aside by the clergy, as neither necessary nor expedient. It was said, that those whose office was to teach people the word of God, did all they could to suppress it. Moses, the prophets, and the apostles, wrote in the vulgar tongue: Christ directed the people to search the scriptures; and as soon as any nation was converted to the christian religion, the Bible was translated into their language; nor was it ever taken out of the hands of the people, till the christian religion was so corrupted, that it was deemed impolitic to trust them with a book which would so manifestly discover those errors: hence the legends, as agreeing better with those abuses, were read instead of the word of God. Cranmer thought, that putting the Bible into the people's hands would be the most effectual means of promoting the reformation; and therefore moved that the king might be prayed to order it. But Gardiner and all the other party opposed this vehemently. They pleaded that all the extravagant opinions then in Germany rose from the indiscreet use of the scriptures. Some of those opinions were at this time disseminated in England, both against the divinity and incarnation of Christ, and the usefulness of the sacra- ments. It was therefore urged that during these distractions the use of the scriptures would prove a great snare, and proposed that instead of them, there might be some short exposition of the christian religion put in the people's hands, which might keep them in subjection to the king and the church: but it was carried in the convocation for the affirma- tive. At court men were much divided in this point; some said, if the king gave way to it, he would never be able after that to govern his people, and that they would break into many divisions: on the other hand, it was maintained, that nothing would make the difference between the pope's power and the king's supremacy appear more eminently, than for the one to give the people the free use of the word of God, while the other kept them in darkness, and ruled them by a blind obedience. It would not go far to extinguish the interest that either the pope or PAGE 335 the monks had in England. The Bible would teach them, that the world had been long deceived by their impostures, which had no foundation in the scriptures. These reasons, joined with the interest that the queen had in the king, prevailed so far with him, that he gave order for setting about this important affair with all possible haste; and within three years the impression of it was finished. The popish party saw with disappointment and concern, that the new queen was the great obsta- cle to their designs. Henry had married Anne chiefly through passionate fondness, and she grew not only in the king's esteem, but in the love of the nation. It was reported that she bestowed above 14,000l. in alms to the poor, and she seemed to delight in doing good. Soon after Kathari- ne's death, she bore a dead son, which was believed to have made some impression on the king's mind unfavourable to her. It was also consid- ered that Katharine being dead, the king might marry another papist, and thus regain the friendship of the pope and the emperor, and that the issue by any other marriage would never be questioned. With these reasons of state the king's affections coincided, for he was now in love with Jane Seymour, whose disposition was tempered between the gravity of Katharine and the gaiety of Anne. The latter used all possible arts to re-inflame a dying affection; but the king was changed, and even deter- mined on her destruction: and her brother's wife being jealous of her husband and her, prejudiced the king with her own extravagant apprehen- sions, and filled his head with many false reports. Norris, Weston, and Brereton, the king's servants, and Smeton a musician, were said to have been particularly officious about her. Something was pretended to have been sworn by the lady Wingfield at her death that determined the king, but there is little light left to judge of that matter. The king left her, upon which she was confined to her chamber, and the five persons before mentioned were seized and sent to the Tower, and the next day she was sent thither. On the river some privy counsellors came to examine her, but she made deep protestations of her innocence; and on landing at the Tower she fell on her knees and prayed God to assist her, as she was free of the crimes laid to her charge. The others who were imprisoned on her account, denied every thing, except Smeton, who, it is supposed through hopes of favour and acquittal, confessed that he had been crimi- nally connected with her. This, however, he denied when he was brought afterwards to execution, a denial of undoubted proof that she was indeed innocent. She was of a remarkable lively temper, and having resided long in the French court, had imbibed in her behaviour somewhat of the levities of that people. She was also free from pride, and hence, in her exterior, she might have condescended too much to her familiar servants. She even confessed she had once rallied Norris, and told him that he was in love with her, and only waited the king's death to marry her: this was the head and front of her offending. The whole court however was turned against her, and she had no friend about the king but Cranmer: her enemies therefore procured an order for him not to come to court; yet he put all to hazard, and wrote the king a long letter upon this critical juncture. He acknowledged, that if the things reported of PAGE 336 the queen were true, it was the greatest affliction that ever befel the king, and therefore exhorted him to bear it with patience and submission to the will of God: he confessed he never had a better opinion of any woman than of her; and that next to the king he was more bound to her than to all persons living, and therefore he begged his leave to pray that she might be found innocent: he loved her not a little, because of the love which she seemed to bear to God and his gospel; but if she was guilty, all who love the gospel must hate her, as having been the great- est slander possible to the gospel: but he prayed the king not to enter- tain any prejudice to the gospel on her account, nor give the world to say, that his love to that was founded on the influence she had with him. But the king was inexorable. The indictments were laid in the counties of Kent and Middlesex, the former relating to what was done in Greenwich. Smeton pleaded guilty, as before; the rest pleaded not guilty; but they were all condemned. On the 15th of May the queen and her brother, who was then a peer, were tried before the duke of Norfolk, as high steward, and a court of twenty-seven peers. The crime charged on her was, that she had procured illicit favours from her brother and four other persons, and had often said to them, that the king never had her heart; and this was to the slander of the issue begotten between the king and her, which was treason by the act which confirmed her marriage, so that this act was now turned to her ruin. They would not now ac- knowledge her the king's lawful wife, and therefore did not found the treason on the known statute 25th Edw. III. It does not appear what evidence was brought against her; for Smeton being already condemned could not be subpoenaed to attest her guilt; and his never being brought face to face against her, gave just suspicion that he was persuaded to his confession by base practices. The evidence rested only on the declaration of a dead woman; but whether that was forged or real, can never be known till the great day discovers it. The forgery, however, rests on the strongest suspicion. The earl of Northumberland was one of the judges. He had formerly been in love with the queen, and either from reviving affection, or from some other circumstance, he became suddenly so ill that he could not stay out the trial. Yet all this did not satisfy the king; he resolved to illegitimatize his daughter, the lady Elizabeth, and in order to that to annul his marriage with the queen. It was remembered that the earl of Northumberland had said to cardinal Wolsey, that he had engaged himself so far with her that he could not go back, which was perhaps done by some promise conceived in words of the future tense, but no promise, unless in the words of the present tense, could annul the subsequent marriage. Perhaps the queen did not understand that difference, or probably the fear of a terrible death wrought so much on her, that she confessed the contract; but the earl denied it positively, and took the sacrament upon it, wishing it might turn to his damnation if there was ever either contract or promise of marriage between them. Upon her own confession, however, her mar- riage with the king was judged null from the beginning, and she was condemned, although nothing could be more contradictory; for if she was never the king's wife, she could not be guilty of adultery, there being PAGE 337 no breach of the faith of wedlock. But the king was resolved both to be rid of her, and to declare the daughter she had borne him illegitimate. The day before her death, she sent her last message to the king, assert- ing her innocence, recommending her daughter to his care, and thanking him for his advancing her first to be a marchioness, then to be a queen, and now, when he could raise her no higher upon earth, for sending her to be a saint in heaven. The day she died the lieutenant of the Tower wrote to Cromwell, that it was not fit to publish the time of her execu- tion, for the fewer that were present it would be the better, since he believed she would declare her innocence at the hour of her death; for that morning she had made great protestations of it when she received the sacrament, and seemed to long for death with great joy and pleasure. On being told that the executioner, who had been sent for expressly from France, was very skilful, she expressed great happiness; for she said, with laughter, she had a very short neck. A little before noon, she was brought to the place of execution; there were present some of the chief officers and great men of the court. She was it seems prevailed on, out of regard to her daughter, to make no reflections on the cruel treatment she met with, nor to say any thing touching the grounds on which sen- tence was passed against her. She only desired that all would judge the best; she highly commended the king, and then took her leave of the world. She remained for some time in her private devotions, and con- cluded, "To Christ I commend my soul;" upon which the executioner struck off her head: and so little respect was paid to her body, that it was with brutal insolence put in a chest of elm-tree, made to send arrows into Ireland, and then buried in the chapel in the Tower. Norris then had his life promised him if he would accuse her; but this faithful and virtuous servant said he knew she was innocent, and would die a thousand times rather than defame her: he and the three others were therefore beheaded, all of them continuing to the last to vindicate her. The day after Anne's death the king married Jane Seymour, who gained more upon him than all his wives before; but she was fortunate that she did not out-live his love to her. Pope Clement VII. was now dead, and Farnese succeeded him by the name of Paul III., who, after an unsuccessful attempt which he made to reconcile himself with the king, when that was rejected, thundered out a most terrible sentence of deposition against him. Yet now, since the two queens upon whose account the breach was made were out of the way, he thought it a fit time to attempt the recov- ery of the papal interest, and ordered Cassalli to let the king know that he had been driven, much against his mind, to pass sentence against him, and that now it would be easy for him to recover the favour of the apostolic see. But the king, instead of hearkening to the proposition, caused two acts to be passed, one for utterly extinguishing the pope's authority; in which it was made a praemunire for any one to acknowledge it, or to persuade others to it; and in the other, all bulls and all privileges flowing from them were declared null and void; only marriages or consecrations made by virtue of them were excepted, All who enjoyed PAGE 338 privileges by these bulls were required to bring them into the chancery, upon which the archbishop was to make them a new grant of them, which being confirmed under the great seal was to be of full force in law. The convocation sat at the same time, and was much employed: for the house of lords was often adjourned, because the spiritual lords were busy in the convocation. Latimer preached the Latin sermon; he was the most celebrated preacher of that time; the simplicity of his matter, and his zeal in expressing it, being preferred to more elaborate composi- tions. They first confirmed the sentence of the divorce of the king's marriage with queen Anne. Then the lower house made an address to the upper house complaining of sixty-seven opinions, which they found were much in the kingdom. These were either the tenets of the old Lollards, or the new Reformers, or of the Anabaptists; but many of them were only indiscreet expressions, which might have flowed from the heat and folly of some rash zealots, who had endeavoured to disgrace both the received doctrines and rites. They also complained of some bishops who were wanting in their duty to suppress such abuses. This was understood as a reflection on Cranmer, Shaxton, and Latimer, the first of whom it was thought was now declining by queen Anne's fall. But all these projects failed, for Cranmer was now fully established in the king's favour; and Cromwell was sent to them with a message from his majesty, that they should reform the rites and ceremonies of the church according to the rules set down in scripture, which he said ought to be preferred to all glosses or decrees of popes. There was one Alesse, a Scotchman, whom Cromwell entertained in his house, who being appointed to deliver his opinion, largely shewed that there was no sacrament instituted by Christ but baptism and the Lord's supper. Stokesly answered him in a long discourse upon the principles of the school-divinity; upon which Cranmer took occasion to shew the vanity of scholastic learning, and the uncer- tainity of tradition; and that religion had been so corrupted in the latter ages, that there was no finding out the truth but by resting on the authority of the scriputes. Fox, bishop of Hereford, seconded him, and told them that the world was now awake, and would be no longer imposed on by the niceties and dark terms of the schools; for the laity now not only read the scriptures in the vulgar tongues, but searched the original languages; therefore they must not think to govern them as they had been in the times of ignorance. Among the bishops, Cranmer, Good- rick, Shaxton, Latimer, Fox, Hilsey, and Barlow, pressed the reforma- tion; but Lee, archbishop of York, bishops Stokesly, Tonstall, Gardiner, Longland, and several others opposed it as much. The contest would have been much sharper, had not the king sent certain articles to be consid- ered by them, when the following mixture of truth and error was agreed upon. 1. That the bishops and preachers ought to instruct the people according to the scripture, the three creeds, and the four first general councils. 2. That baptism was necessary to salvation, and that children ought to be baptised for the pardon of original sin, and obtaining the Holy Ghost. 3. That penance was necessary to salvation, and that it PAGE 339 consisted in confession, contrition, and amendment of life, with the external works of charity, to which a lively faith ought to be joined; and that confession to a priest was necessary where it might be had. 4. That in the eucharist, under the forms of bread and wine, the very flesh and blood of Christ was received. 5. That justification was the remis- sion of sins, and a perfect renovation in Christ; and that not only outward good works, but inward holiness was absolutely necessary. As for outward ceremonies, the people were to be taught, that it was meet to have images in churches, but they ought to avoid the superstition as has been usual in time past, and not to worship the image, but only God. That they were to honour the saints, but not to expect those things from them which God only gives. That they might pray to them for their intercession, but all superstitious abuses were to cease; and if the king should lessen the number of saints' days, they ought to obey him. That the use of the ceremonies was good, and that they contained many mystical significations that tended to raise the mind towards God; such were vestments in divine worship, holy water and bread, carrying of candles, and palms, creeping to the cross, and hallowing the font, with other exorcisms. That it was good to pray for departed souls, and to have masses said for them; but the scriptures having neither declared in what place they were, nor what torments they suffered, that was uncer- tain, and to be left to God; therefore all abuses of the pope's pardons, or saying masses in special places, or before certain images, were to be put away. These articles were signed by Cromwell, the two archbishops, sixteen bishops, forty abbots and priors, and fifty members of the lower house. The king afterwards added a preface, declaring the pains that he and the clergy had taken for removing the differences in religion which existed in the nation, and that he approved of these articles, and required all his subjects to accept them, and he would be thereby en- couraged to take further pains in similar matters for the future. On the publication of these points, the favourers of the reformation, though they did not approve of every particular, yet were well pleased to see things brought under examination; and since some were at this time changed, they did not doubt but more changes would follow. They were glad that the scriptures and ancient creeds were made the standards of the faith, without adding tradition; and that the nature of justifi- cation and the gospel-covenant was rightly stated; that the immediate worship of images and saints was condemned, and purgatory left uncer- tain. The necessity of auricular confession, and the corporeal pres- ence, doing reverence to images, and praying to saints, were of hard digestion to them; yet they rejoiced to see grosser abuses removed, and a reformation once set on foot. The popish party, on the other hand, were sorry to see five sacraments passed over in silence, and the trade created by purgatory put down. At the same time other things were in consultation, though not finished. Cranmer offered some queries to shew the imposition that had been put on the world; as that priestly absolu- tion without contrition was of more efficacy than contrition without it; and that the people trusted wholly to outward ceremonies, in which the PAGE 340 priests encouraged them, because of the gain they made by them. He offered a paper to the king, exhorting him to proceed to further refor- mation, and that nothing should be determined without clear proofs from scripture, a departure from which occasioned all the errors that had been in the church. Many things were now acknowledged to be erroneous, for denying which some not long before had suffered death. He therefore proposed several points to be discussed, as whether there were a purga- tory? whether departed saints ought to be invoked, or tradition believed? whether images ought to be considered mere representations of history? and whether it was lawful for the clergy to marry? He prayed the king not to give judgment in these points till he heard them well examined; but no definitive measures respecting them were at present adopted. Visitors were now appointed to survey all the lesser monaster- ies; they were to examine the state of their revenues and goods, form inventories of them, and take their seals into their keeping; they were to try how many of the religious would return to a secular course of life; and these were to be sent to the archbishop of Canterbury, or the lord chancellor for licences, an allowance being granted them for their journey; but those who intended to continue in a religious state were to be removed to some of the great monasteries. A pension was also to be assigned to the abbot, or prior, of each house during life; and they were particularly to examine what leases had been made during the last year. Ten thousand of the religious were by this means driven to seek for their livings, with forty shillings and a gown for each. Their goods and plate were estimated at 100,000l. and the rents of their houses 32,000l. but they were above ten times this value. The churches and cloisters were in most places pulled down, and the materials sold, yielding an incredible amount. These proceedings gave great discontent; and the monks were now as much pitied, as they were formerly hated. The nobility and gentry, who provided for their younger children or friends by putting them in those sanctuaries, were sensible of their loss. The people, who as they travelled over the country found abbeys to be places of reception to strangers, had cause to lament their suppression. But the superstitious, who thought their friends must now lie still in purgatory, without relief from the masses, were out of measure offended and afflicted. But to remove this discontent, Cromwell advised the king to sell those lands at very easy rates to the nobility and gentry, and to oblige them to keep up the wonted hospitality. This would both be grateful to them, and would engage them to assist the crown in promoting the changes that had been made, since their own interests would be interwoven with that of their sovereign. And upon a clause in the act empowering the king to found anew such houses as he should think fit, there were fifteen monasteries and sixteen nunneries newly founded. These were bound to obey such rules as the king should send them, and to pay him tenths and first fruits. But all this did not pacify the people, for there was still a great outcry. The clergy studied much to inflame the nation, and urged that an heretical prince, deposed by the pope, was no more to be acknowledged; that it was a part of the papal power to depose kings, and give away their dominions; and it had often PAGE 341 been put in practice in almost all the parts of Europe, and some who had been abettors of great sedition had been canonized for it. There were certain injunctions given by Cromwell which increased this discontent. All churchmen were required every Sunday for a quarter of a year, and twice every quarter after that, to preach against the pope's power and to explain the six articles of the convocation. They were forbidden to extol images, relics, or pilgrimages; but to exhort to works of charity. They were also required to teach the Lord's prayer, the creed, and the ten commandments in English, and to explain these carefully, and instruct the children well in them. They were to perform the divine offices reverently, and to have good curates to supply their places when they were absent. They were charged not to go to alehouses, or sit too long at games; but to study the scriptures, and be exemplary in their lives. Those who did not reside in their parishes were to give the fortieth part of their income to the poor; and for every hundred pounds a year, they were to maintain a pupil at some grammar school, or the university. If the parsonage-house was in decay, they were ordered to apply a fifth part of their benefice for the purpose of repairing it. The people continued quiet till they had got in their harvest; but in the beginning of October, 20,000 rose in Lincolnshire, led by a priest in the disguise of a cobler. They took an oath to be true to God, the king and the commonwealth, and sent a paper of their grievances to the king. They complained of some acts of parliament, of suppressing of many religious houses, of mean and ill counsellors, and bad bishops; and prayed the king to redress their grievances by the advice of the nobili- ty. The king sent the duke of Suffolk to raise forces against them, and gave an answer to their petition. He said it belonged not to the rabble to direct princes what counsellors they should choose. The religious houses were suppressed by law, and the heads of them had under their hands confessed such horrid scandals, that they were a reproach to the nation; and that as they wasted their rents in riotous living, it was much better to apply them to the common good of the nation. He required them to submit to his mercy, and to deliver up two hundred of their leaders into the hands of his lieutenants. At the same time there was a more formidable rising in Yorkshire, which being in the neighbourhood of Scotland, was likely to draw assistance from that kingdom, though their king was then gone into France to marry Francis' daughter; which in- clined Henry to make more haste to settle matters in Lincolnshire. He sent them secret assurances of mercy, which wrought on the greatest part, so that they dispersed themselves, while the most obstinate went over to those in Yorkshire. The leader and some others were taken and executed. The distance of those in the North gave them time to assem- ble, and form themselves into some regimental order. One Ask was commander in chief, and performed his part with great dexterity: their march was called "the Pilgrimage of Grace;" they had on their banners and sleeves the five wounds of Christ; they took an oath that they would restore the church, suppress heretics, preserve the king and his issue, and drive base born men and ill counsellors from him. They became 40,000 PAGE 342 strong in a few days, and forced the archbishop of York and the lord Darcy to swear to their covenant, and to proceed with them. They besieged Skipton, but the earl of Cumberland made it good against them. Sir Ralph Evers held out Scarborough castle, though for twenty days he and his men had no provisions but bread and water. There was also a rising in the other northern countries, against whom the earl of Shrews- bury made head; and the king sent several of the nobility to his assis- tance, and within a few days the duke of Norfolk marched with some troops and joined him. They possessed themselves of Doncaster, and resolved to keep that pass till the rest of the forces which the king had ordered should arrive; for they were not in a condition to engage with such numbers of desperate men; and it was very likely that if they met with an accident, the people might have risen about them every where; the duke of Norfolk resolved, therefore, to keep close at Don- caster, and let the provision and rage of the rebels waste away, and then they might probably fall into factions and disperse. They were now reduced to 10,000, but the king's army was not above 5000. The duke of Norfolk proposed a treaty; they were persuaded to send their petitions to the king, who to make them more secure, discharged a rendezvous which he had appointed at Northampton, and sent them a general pardon, except- ing six by name, and reserving four to be afterwards named; but this put them all in such apprehension, that it made them more desperate: yet the king, to give his people some content, issued injunctions requiring the clergy to continue the use of all the ceremonies of the church: mean- while 300 were employed to carry the demands of the rebels to the king. These were, a general pardon, a parliament to be held at York, and that courts of justice should be set up there; some acts of parliament to be repealed, that the princess Mary might be restored to her right of succession, and the pope to his wonted jurisdiction; that the monaster- ies might be revived; that Audley and Cromwell might be removed from the king; and that some of the visitors might be imprisoned for their bribery and extortion. These proposals being rejected, the rebels took heart again, and finding that with the loss of time they lost heart, resolved to fall upon the royal troops, and drive them into Doncaster; but at two several times in which they had thought to ford the river, such rains fell as made it impassable. The king, at length, sent an answer to their demands: he assured them he would live and die in the defence of the christian faith; but the rabble ought not to prescribe to him and to the convocation in that matter. He answered that which concerned the monasteries as he had done to the men of Lincolnshire. If they had just complaints to make of any about him, he was ready to hear them; but he would not suffer them to direct him what counsellors he ought to employ: nor could they judge of the bishops who had been pro- moted, whom they knew not. He charged them not to believe lies, nor be governed by incendiaries, but to submit to his mercy. On the 9th of December he signed a proclamation of pardon without any restriction. As soon as the affair was over, the king went on more resolutely in his design of suppressing the monasteries; being now less apprehensive of any new commotion. PAGE 343 A new visitation was appointed to enquire into the conversation of the monks, to examine how they stood affected to the pope, and how they promoted the king's supremacy. It was likewise ordered to examine what impostures might be among them, either in images or relics, by which the superstition of the credulous people was excited. Some few houses of greater value were prevailed with the former year to surrender to the king. Many of the houses which had not been dissolved, though they were within the former act, were now suppressed, and many of the greater abbots were induced to surrender by several motives. Some had been faulty during the rebellion, and to prevent a storm offered a resigna- tion. Others liked the reformation, and did it on that account; some were found guilty of great disorders in their lives, and to prevent a shameful discovery, offered their houses to the king; while others had made such wastes and dilapidations, that having taken care of them- selves, they were less concerned for others. At St. Alban's the rents were let so low, that the abbot could not maintain the charge of the abbey. At Battel the whole furniture of the house and chapel was not above 1000l. in value, and the plate was not 300l. In some houses there was scarcely any plate or furniture left. Many abbots and monks were glad to accept of a pension for life, which was proportioned to the value of their house, and to their innocence. The abbots of St. Alban's and Tewkesbury had 400 marks a year: the abbot of St. Edmondsbury was more innocent and more resolute; the visitors wrote that they found no scandals in that house; he was, however, prevailed with by a pension of 500 marks to resign. The inferior governors had some 30, 20, or 10l. pensions, and the monks had generally 6l. or eight marks a piece. By these means one hundred and twenty-one of these houses were this year resigned to the king. In most cases the visitor made the monks sign a confession of their vices and disorders, of which there is only one original extant. They acknowledged in a long narrative, their former idleness, gluttony, and sensuality, for which they said the pit of hell was ready to swallow them up. Others were sensible that the manner of their former religion consisted in dumb ceremonies, by which they were blindly led, having no true knowledge of God's laws; but that they had procured exemption from their diocesans, and had subjected themselves wholly to a foreign power, which took no care to reform their abuses; and therefore since the most perfect way of life was revealed by Christ and his apostles, and that it was fit they should be governed by the king as their supreme head, they freely resigned to him. Some resigned in hopes that the king would found them anew; these favoured the refor- mation, and intended to convert their houses to better uses, for preach- ing, study, and prayer; and Latimer pressed Cromwell earnestly, that two or three houses might be reserved for such purposes in every county. But it was resolved to suppress all. The common preamble to most sur- renders was, "That upon full deliberation, and of their own proper motion, for just and reasonable causes moving their consciences, they did freely give up their houses to the king." In short, they went on at such a rate, that one hundred and fifty-nine resignations were obtained before the parliament met. Some thought that these resignations could not be valid, since the incumbents had not the property, but only the PAGE 344 trust for life. But the parliament afterwards declared them good by an ex post facto law. Others were more roughly handled. The prior of Wooburn was suspected of a correspondence with the rebels, and of fa- vouring the pope; he was requested to submit to the king, and prevailed on to do it, but he was not easy in it, nor fixed to it; he complained that the new preachers detracted from the honour due to the virgin and saints; he thought the religion was changed, and wondered that the judgments of God on queen Anne had not terrified others from going on to subvert the faith. When the rebellion broke out he joined in it, as did also the abbots of Whaley, Garvaux, and Sawley, and the prior of Bur- lington; all these were taken, attainted of treason, and executed. The abbots of Glastonbury and Reading had also sent a great quantity of their plate to the rebels; the former, to disguise it the better, had hired a man to break into the house where the plate was kept: thus he was convicted both of burglary and treason, and at his execution he confessed his crime, and begged both God and the king's pardon for it. The abbot of Reading had complied so far, that he was grown into favour with Cromwell. Many of the Carthusians were executed for denying the king's supremacy: others were suspected of favouring them, and of receiving books sent from beyond sea against the king's proceedings, and were shut up in their cells, in which most of them died. The prior was a man of extraordinary charity and good works, as the visitorreported; but he was made to resign, with this preamble, "That many of the houses had offended the king, and deserved that their lives should be taken, and their goods confiscated; and therefore to avoid that, they surren- dered their houses." Great complaints were made of the visitors, as if they had used undue practices to make the abbots and monks surrender; and it was said, that they had in many places embezzled much of the plate for their own uses; and in particular, it was complained that Dr. Loudon had corrupted many nuns. The visitors, on the other hand, pub- lished many of the vile practices that they found in the houses, so that several books were printed upon this occasion. No story became so public as that of the prior of Crutched-friars in London, who was detected with a strumpet at noon-day: he fell down on his knees, and begged that they who surprised him would not discover his shame. They made him give them 30l. which he protested was all he had; and he promised them as much more: but not keeping his word, a suit followed upon it. Yet these personal blemishes did not much concern the people. They deemed it unreasonable to extinguish noble foundations for the fault of some individuals: therefore another way was taken which had a better effect. They disclosed to the world many impostures about relics and images, to which pilgrimages had been made. At Reading they had an angel's wing, which, they said, brought over the spear's point that pierced our Sa- viour's side; and as many pieces of the cross were found, as when joined together would have made a large cross. The rood of Grace at Bexley, in Kent, had been much esteemed, and had attracted many pilgrims to it: it was observed to bow, and roll its eyes, and look at times well pleased or angry; which the credulous multitude imputed to a divine power: but PAGE 345 all was now discovered to be a cheat, and it was brought up to St. Paul's cross, where the springs were openly shewed that governed its several motions. At Hales, in Gloucestershire, blood was shewed in a vial which was pretended to be the blood of Christ; and it was believed that none could see it who were in mortal sin. Those who could bestow liberal presents were of course gratified, by being led to believe that they were in a state of grace. This miracle consisted in the blood of a bird or beast, renewed every week, put in a vial very thick on one side, and thin on the other; and either side turned towards the pilgrim, as the priests were satisfied with their oblations. Several other similar impostures were discovered, which contributed much to the undeceiving of the people. The richest shrine in England was Thomas `a Becket's at Canterbury, whose story is well known. After he had long embroiled England, and shewed that he had a spirit so turned to faction that he could not be at quiet, some servants of Henry II. killed him in the church at Canterbury. He was presently canonized, and held in greater esteem than any other saint whatever; so much more was a martyr for the papacy valued, than any who suffered for the christian religion: and his altar drew far greater oblations than those dedicated to Christ or the blessed Virgin, as appears by the accounts of two years. In the first year 3l. 2s. 6d., and in the second not a penny, was offered at Christ's altar. In the Virgin's, there was in the first year 63l. 5s. 6d., and in the second 4l. 1s. 8d.; while at the shrine of Becket, there was in the first year 832l. 12s. 3d., and in the second 964l. 6s. 3d. offered. The shrine continued to grow in veneration and riches. Lewis VII. of France came over in pilgrimage to visit it, and offered a stone esteemed the richest in Europe. This saint had not only one holy day, the 29th of December, called his martyrdom; but another for his translation, namely, the 7th of July. Besides these, every fiftieth year there was a jubilee, and an indulgence granted to all who came and visited his tomb, which was so great a number, that on these occasions there have been supposed to be assembled not less than 100,000 pilgrims. The lane leading from the main street of the city to the cathedral gate has one side of it almost occupied with very ancient houses. These were once one entire house of accommodation called the Pilgrim's Inn. The cellars are still in their ancient state, and give us a notion of incredible quantities of wine being then kept in store for those pilgrims who could pay for it. Intemperance among them was then as common almost as superstition. Those of smaller wealth were accommodated in a suburb of the city, called to PAGE 346 this day Wincheap - denoting the greater cheapness of the wine there than at the Pilgrim's Inn. It is hard to tell whether hatred to his seditious practices, or the love of his shrine, led king Henry to un- saint Thomas `a Becket. His shrine was broken, and the gold of it was so heavy that it filled two chests, each of which took eight men to carry it out of the church. The skull, which had been so idolized, was proved to be an imposture; for the true one was safe in his coffin: his bones had either been burnt, as it was given out at Rome; or so mixed with others, as our writers say, that it would have been a miracle indeed to have distinguished them. When these things were known at Rome, all the eloquent pens there were employed to represent king Henry as the most sacrilegious tyrant that ever made war with Christ's vicar on earth, and his saints in heaven. He was compared to the worst of princes; to Phar- aoh, Nebuchadnezzar, Belshazzar, Nero, and Dioclesian; but the parallel with Julian the apostate was most insisted on. It was said, he copied after him in all things, while his manners were worse. The pope proceed- ed farther; he published all those thunders with which he had threatened him three years before. He pretended that, as God's vicar, he had power to root out, and to destroy; and had authority over all the kings in the world: and therefore, after he had enumerated all the crimes of Henry, he required him to appear within ninety days at Rome, either in person or by proxy, and all his accomplices within sixty days; and that if he and they did not appear, he declared the king to have fallen from his crown, and them from their estates. He put the kingdom under an inter- dict, and absolved his subjects from their oaths of allegiance: he declared him and his accomplices infamous; and put their children under incapacities. He required all the clergy to go out of England, within five days after the stated time should expire, leaving only so many as might serve for baptizing children or giving the sacrament to such as died in penitence. He charged all subjects to rise in arms against the king, and that none should assist him. He absolved all other princes from their confederacies with him, and conjured them to have no more commerce with him. He required all Christians to make war on him; and to seize on the persons and goods of all his subjects, and make slaves of them; and, in conclusiuon, he charged all bishops to publish the sentence with due solemnities, and ordained it to be affixed on the churches of Rome, Tournay, and Dunkirk. This was given out on the 30th of August, 1535; but it had been suspended till the suppression of monasteries, and the burning of Becket's bones; at which the pope was so exasperated, that he resolved to forbear extremities no longer. On the 17th of December this year, he therefore published the bull. By this sentence it is certain, that either the pope's infallibility must be confessed to be a vain assumption upon the world, or if any believe it, they must presume that the power of deposing princes is really lodged in that chair; for this was not a sudden fit of passion, but done ex Cathe- dra, with all the deliberation it could admit of. The sentence was in some particulars without a precedent; but as to the main points of deposing the king, and absolving his subjects from their obedience, there were numerous instances to be brought in the last five hundred PAGE 347 years, to shew that this had been always asserted as the right of papa- cy. The pope wrote to the kings of France and Scotland, to inflame them against Henry; and had this been an age of crusades, no doubt there had been one undertaken against him; but the thunders of the Vatican had already begun to lose their force. To counteract this violence, the king caused all the bishops, and eminent divines of England, to sign a declaration against all churchmen who pretended to the power of the sword, or to authority over kings; and that all who assumed such powers were subverters of the kingdom of Christ. Many of the bishops also signed another paper, declaring the limits of the regal and ecclesiasti- cal power; that both had their authority from God, for several ends and different natures; and that princes were subject to the word of God, as well as bishops ought to be obedient to their laws. There was also another declaration signed by Cromwell, the two archbishops, eleven bishops, and twenty divines; asserting the distinction between the power of the keys, and that of the power of the sword: the former of which was not absolute, but limited by the scripture. Orders were declared to be a sacrament instituted by Christ, which were conferred by prayer and imposition of hands. It was also decreed that in the New Testament no mention was made of any other ranks but of deacons or ministers and of priests or bishops. This year the English Bible was finished. The translation was first sent over to Paris to be printed, the workmen in England not being thought able to get through it. Bonner was at that time ambassador at Paris; and he obtained a licence of Francis for printing it; but upon a complaint made by the French clergy, the press was stopped, and many of the copies were seized and burnt. It was there- fore brought over to England, where it was undertaken and now finished by Grafton. Cromwell procured a general warrant from the king, allowing all his subjects to read it; for which Cranmer wrote his thanks to Cromwell, saying he rejoiced to see the day of reformation risen in England, since the word of God now shone over all without a cloud. Not long after this, Cromwell gave injunctions requiring the clergy to set up Bibles in their churches, and to encourage all the people to read them. Incumbents were required to instruct and teach them the creed, the Lord's prayer, and the ten commandments, in English; and once every quarter to preach a sermon, to declare the true gospel of Christ; and to exhort the people to works of charity; and not to trust to pilgrimages, or relics, or counting their beads, which tended to superstition. Im- ages, abused by pilgrimages made to them, were ordered to be taken away. And such as had formerly magnified images, or pilgrimages, were required openly to recant, and confess that they had been in error, which cove- tousness had brought into the church. All incumbents were required to keep registers for christenings and marriages; and to teach the people that it was good to omit the suffrages to the saints in the litany. Thus was a vital stab given to some of the main points of superstition; but the free use of the scriptures gave the deadliest blow of all. Yet, notwithstanding, the clergy submitted to nearly the whole change without murmuring. This year was celebrated by the birth of prince Edward, an event which blasted the hopes of the popish party, chiefly built on the PAGE 348 probability of the lady Mary's succeeding to the crown. Lee, Gardiner, and Stokesly, now seemed to vie with the bishops of the other party, which of them should most zealously execute the injunctions, and thereby insinuate themselves into the king's favour. Gardiner had been some years ambassador in France, but Cromwell had caused Bonner, who seemed to be the most zealous promoter of the reformation then in England, to be sent in his stead. Gardiner afterwards was sent to the emperor's court with sir Henry Knevet, and there he gave occasion to suspect that he was treating on a reconciliation with the pope's legate. But the Italian who managed it, being sent with a message to the ambassador's secretary, mistook Knevet's for Gardener's, and told his business to him. Knevet endeavoured to fathom the mystery, but could not carry it farther; for the Italian was disowned, and put in prison upon it, and Gardiner complained of it as a scheme laid to ruin him. Such were his artifices and flatteries, that he was still preserved in some degree of favour as long as the king lived. Gardiner used one topic which pre- vailed much with the king, that his zeal against heresy was giving the greatest advantage to his cause over all Europe; and therefore he pressed him to begin with the sacramentarists, such as denied the corpo- real presence at the sacrament. Those being condemned by the German princes, he had the less reason to be afraid of embroiling his affairs by his severities against them. This meeting so well with the king's own persuasions concerning the corporeal presence, had a great effect on him; and an occasion quickly offered itself to display his zeal in that matter, and this was in the memorable instance of John Lambert. John Lambert was born in the county of Norfolk, and educated at the universi- ty of Cambridge. Having made himself master of Greek and Latin, he translated several books from those languages into the English. On his conversion, however, by Bilney, he became disgusted at the corruptions of the church; and apprehensive of persecution, he crossed the sea and joined himself to Tindal and Frith, with whom he remained more than a year; and, from his piety and ability, was appointed chaplain and preacher to the English factory at Antwerp. But there the jealousy and persecuting spirit of Sir T. More reached him, and on the accusation of a person named Barlow, he was taken and conveyed to London. There he was brought to examination first at Lambeth, then removed to the bishop's house at Oxford, before Warham, the archbishop of Canterbury, and other adversaries, having five and forty articles brought against him, to which he drew out at considerable length written answers, with a perspi- cuity and strength excelled by none of his age. These answers were directed and delivered to Warham, archbishop of Canterbury, about the year of our Lord 1532, at which time Lambert was in custody in the bishop's house at Oxford, where he was deprived of the assistance of books. But, so the providence of God wrought for him, that in the fol- lowing year archbishop Warham died, whereby Lambert for that time was delivered. Cranmer succeeded to the see of Canterbury. Lambert in the mean time being delivered, partly by the death of the archbishop, partly PAGE 349 by the coming in of queen Anne, returned unto London, and there exer- cised himself in teaching youth the Greek and Latin tongues. As priests in those days could not be permitted to have wives, he resigned his priesthood, and applied himself to teaching, intending shortly after to be married. But God, who disposeth all men's purposes after the good pleasure of his own will, did both intercept his marriage and also take away his freedom. Having continued his profession as teacher with great success, it happened, that in the present year, 1538, he was present at a sermon in St. Peter's church, London, preached by Dr. Taylor, a man in those days not far disagreeing from the gospel, and afterwards, in the time of king Edward, made bishop of Lincloln, of which he was again deprived in the time of queen Mary, and so ended his life among the confessors of Jesus Christ. Dr. Taylor having spoken something upon the corporeal presence which Lambert conceiving to be erroneous, he felt himself urged by duty to argue the subject with him. He, therefore, at the conclusion of the sermon, went to the doctor and began the contest. Taylor, excusing himself at the present for other business, wished him to write his mind and to come again at a more convenient season. Lam- bert was contented and departed. When he had written his mind, he came again unto him. The sum of his arguments were ten, approving the truth of the cause, partly by the scriptures, by good reason, and by the doctors. These were written with great force and authority. The first reason was the following, gathered upon Christ's words, where it is said in the gospel, "This cup is the New Testament." "If," he added, "these words do not change the cup nor the wine corporeally into the New Testa- ment, by the same reason it is not agreeable that the words spoken of the bread should turn that corporeally into the body of Christ." He then proceeded thus - "It is not agreeable to a natural body to be in two places or more at one time: wherefore it must follow of necessity that either Christ had not a natural body or else truly, according to the common nature of a body, it cannot be present in two places at once, and much less in many, that is to say, in heaven and in earth, on the right hand of his Father, and in the sacrament." He added likewise many other positions from the writings of the doctors. Dr. Taylor, willing and desiring, as is supposed from goodness of heart, to satisfy Lambert in these matters, whom he took to council, he conferred with Dr. Barnes, who, although he otherwise favoured the gospel, and was an earnest preacher, seemed not to favour this cause; fearing, possibly, that it would breed some mischief among the people, in prejudice of the gospel which was now in a good state of forwardness. He, therefore, persuaded Taylor to submit the entire question to the superior judgment of Cranm- er. Upon these things Lambert's quarrel began, and was brought to this point, so that from a private talk it came to be a public and common matter. He was sent for by the archbishop, brought into the open court, and forced publicly to defend his cause. The archbishop had not yet favoured the doctrine of the sacrament, although afterwards he was an earnest professor of it. In that point of disputation it is said Lambert appealed from the bishops to the king's majesty. Gardiner, ever awake to his worldly interest, and to every occasion of checking that cause PAGE 350 which in his heart he hated, learning the particulars of the affair, went privately to the king, and with all artifice and subtlety empited the malice of his own heart into that of the king's, empoisoning the royal ear with his pernicious counsels. He said that the world viewed him with suspicion, and began to charge him with being a favourer of heretics; and that the present affair relating to Lambert would enable him, by proceeding against him, to banish from the hearts of all those unfavourable suspicions and complaints. To this advice, the king, giving ear more willingly than prudently, sent out a general commission, com- manding all the nobles and bishops of his realm to come with speed to London, to assist the king against heretics and heresies, upon which the king himself would sit in judgment. These preparations made, a day was appointed for Lambert, where a great assembly of the nobles was gathered from all parts of the country, not without much wonder and expectation in this singular case. All the seats and places round the scaffold were crowded. At length John Lambert was brought from the prison under a guard of armed men, as a lamb to fight with many lions, and placed directly opposite to the king's seat. Then came the king himself as judge of the controversy, with his body-guard clothed all in white. On his right hand sat the bishops, and behind them the celebrated lawyers, clothed in purple, according to the manner. On the left hand sat the peers of the realm, justices, and other nobles in their order; behind whom were the gentlemen of the king's privy chamber. This manner and form of the judgment was enough of itself to abash innocence; yet the king's look, his cruel countenance, and his brows bent to severity, augmented the terror, plainly declaring a mind full of indignation unworthy such a prince, especially in such a matter, and against a subject so humble, and obedient. Being seated on his throne, he beheld Lambert with a stern countenance, and then turning himself to his coun- sellors, called forth Day, bishop of Chichester, and commanded him to declare to the people the cause of the present assembly and judgment. The bishop's oration tended to this purpose: that the king in session would have all states and degrees to be admonished of his will and pleasure, that no man should conceive any sinister opinion of him, that now the authority and name of the bishop of Rome being utterly abol- ished, he would not extinguish all religion by giving liberty unto heretics to perturb and trouble the churches of England, whereof he was the head, without punishment. Moreover, that they should not think they were assembled at that time to make any disputation upon the heretical doctrine; but only for this purpose, that by the industry of him and other bishops, the heresies of this man here present, and of all like him, should be refuted or openly condemned in the presence of them all. The oration being concluded, the king rose, and leaning upon a cushion of white cloth of tissue, turned himself toward Lambert with his brow bent and said, "Ho, good fellow, what is thy name?" Then the prisoner kneeling down, said, "My name is John Nicholson, although by many I am called Lambert." "What!" said the king, "have you two names? I would not PAGE 351 trust you, having two names, although your were my brother." Lambert replied - "O most noble prince, your bishops forced me of necessity to change my name." The king then commanded him to go into the matter, and to declare his mind and opinion, what he thought as touching the sacra- ment of the altar. Then Lambert proceeded, gave God thanks, who had so inclined the heart of the king, that he himself would not disdain to hear and understand the controversies of religion; since it had often happened, through the cruelty of the bishops, that many good and inno- cent men in many places were privily murdered without the knowledge of their sovereign. But now, as that high and eternal King of kings, in whose hands are the hearts of all princes, had inspired the king's mind, that he himself would be present to understand the causes of his sub- jects; especially whom God of his divine goodness had so endued with such gifts of judgment and knowledge, he did not doubt but that God would bring some great thing to pass through him to the glory of his name. Here Henry interrupted him, and with an angry voice, said, - "I came not hither to hear mine own praises thus painted out in my pres- ence; but briefly to go into the matter without any more circumstance." Then Lambert, abashed at the king's angry words, contrary to all men's expectations, stayed awhile, considering whither he might turn himself in these great straits and extremities. Upon which the king, with anger and vehemency, said, - "Why standest thou still? Answer as touching the sacrament of the altar, - whether dost thou say, that it is the body of Christ, or wilt deny it?" With that word the king reverently lifted his turban from his head. Lambert said - "I answer with St. Augustine - That it is the body of Christ, after a certain manner." Then the king said - "Answer me neither out of St. Augustine, neither by the authority of any other man; but tell me plainly, whether thou sayest it is the body of Christ or no?" Then Lambert meekly replied - "I deny it to be the body of Christ." The king on this said - "Mark well, for now thou shalt be condemned even by Christ's own words: Hoc est corpus meum." He then commanded Cranmer to refute his assertion; who, first making a short preface to the hearers, began his disputation with Lambert, very modestly saying, - "Brother Lambert, let this matter be handled between us indifferently, that if I do convince this your argument to be false by the scriptures, you will willingly refuse the same; but if you shall prove it true by manifest testimonies of the scripture, I do promise willingly to embrace the same." The argument was this, taken out of that place of the Acts of the Apostles, where Christ appeared to St. Paul by the way; disputing out of that place, that it is not disagreeable to the word of God, that the body of Christ may be in two places at once, which being in heaven, was seen of St. Paul at the same time upon earth; and if it may be in two places, why by the like reason may it not be in many places? Thus the archbishop began to refute the second argument of Lambert, which had been written and delivered by him to Dr. Taylor the preacher: the king having already disputed against his first reason. Lambert answered to this argument, - "That the minor was not thereby PAGE 352 proved, that Christ's body was dispersed in two places, or more, but remained rather still in one place, as touching the manner of his body. For the scripture doth not say, that Christ being upon the earth did speak unto Paul; but that suddenly a light from heaven did shine round about him, and he fell to the ground and heard a voice, saying unto him, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? I am Jesus whom thou persecutest." This place saith nothing but that Christ, sitting in heaven, might speak to Paul, and be heard upon earth: for they which were with Paul verily heard the voice, but did see no one." The archbishop, on the contrary part, said, Paul himself doth witness, that Christ did appear unto him in the same vision. Lambert again answered, that Christ did witness in the same place, that he would again appear unto him, and deliver him out of the hands of the Gentiles: notwithstanding we read in no place that Christ did corporeally appear unto him. Thus, when they had contended about the conversion of St. Paul, and Lambert so answering for himself, that the king seemed greatly to be moved therewith, and the bishop himself to be entangled, and all the audience amazed; the bishop of Winchester, fearing lest the argument should be taken out of his mouth, or rather being filled with malice against the poor man, without the king's commandment, observing no order, before the archbishop had made an end, alleged a place out of the twelfth chapter of the Corinthians, where St. Paul saith, - "Have I not seen the Lord Jesus?" And again in the fifteenth chapter: "He appeared unto Cephas; and afterwards unto James, then to all the apostles; but last of all he appeared unto me also as one born out of due time." To all this Lambert answered, he did not doubt but that Christ was seen, and did appear, but he denied that he was in two places, according to the manner of his body. Then Gardiner again perverting the authority of Paul, repeated the place out of the second epistle to the Corinthians, the fifth chapter, - "And if so be we have known Christ after the flesh, now henceforth know we him no more." Lambert added, that this knowledge is not to be understood according to the sense of the body, and that it so appeared sufficiently by St. Paul, which speaking of his own revelation, saith thus:- "I know one, whether in the body or out of the body, God knoweth, which was caught up into the third heaven; and I know not whether in the body or out of the body, God knoweth." Even by the testimony of St. Paul, a man shall easily gather, that in this revelation he was taken up in spirit into the heavens, and did see those things, rather than that Christ came down corporeally from heaven, to shew them unto him: especially as it was said of the angel, "As he ascended into heaven, so he shall come again." And St. Peter saith, "Whom it behoved to dwell in the heavens." Moreover appointing the measure of time, he added, "Even until that all things be restored." Here again Lambert, being taunted and insulted, could not be suffered to proceed. When Gardiner had finished, Tonstal took his course, and after a long preface, wherein he spake much of God's omnipo- tency, at last he came to this point, saying, that if Christ could perform that which he spake, touching the converting his body into bread, without doubt he would speak nothing, but that he would perform. PAGE 353 Lambert answered, That there was no place of scripture wherein Christ doth at any time say, that he would change the bread into his body: and moreover, that there is no necessity why he should so do. But this is a figurative speech, every where used in the scripture, when as the name and appellation of the thing signified is attributed unto the sign. By which figure of speech, circumcision is called the Covenant - the lamb the Passover, besides six hundred such instances. With great firmness he then said - "Now it remaineth to be marked, whether we shall judge all these after the words pronounced be straightway changed into another nature." Then began they to rage afresh against Lambert, resolving, if they could not destroy his arguments, at least to drown them with re- bukes and taunts. Next stepped forth the valiant champion Stokesley, bishop of London, who afterwards, lying at the point of death, rejoiced, that in his lifetime he had burned fifty heretics. This man, with a long protestation, promised to prove "that it was not only a miracle of divine work, but also that it did not at all contradict nature. For it is nothing dissonant from nature, the substance of like things to be often changed one into another. So that nevertheless the accidents do remain, albeit the substance itself and the matter be changed." Then he attempted to prove it by the example of water boiling so long upon the fire until all the substance evaporated. "Now," saith he, "it is the doctrine of the philosophers, that a substance cannot be changed but into substance: wherefore we affirm the substance of the water to pass into the substance of the air, notwithstanding the quality of the water, which is moistness, remaineth after the substance is changed; for the air is moist even as the water is." At this argument the bishops greatly rejoiced, and their countenance changed, as it were assuring themselves of a certain triumph and victory by this philosophical transmutation of elements. The audience now waited in expectation of Lambert's answer, who as soon as he had obtained silence and liberty to speak, first denied the bishop's assumption, that the moisture of the water did remain after the substance was altered. "For although," saith he, "we grant, with the philosophers, the air to be naturally moist, notwith- standing it hath one proper degree of moisture, and the water another; still there is another doctrine amongst the philosophers, as a perpetual rule, that it can by no means be that the qualities and accidents in natural things should remain in their own proper nature, without their proper subject." Upon this the king and bishops raged against Lambert, so much that he was again forced to silence. Then the other bishops, every one in his order, as they were appointed, supplied their place in the disputation. There were ten in number appointed for the performing of this tragedy, for ten arguments, as before we have declared, were delivered unto Taylor the preacher. It were too tedious in this place to repeat the reasons and arguments of every bishop, having little in them worthy either the hearer or the reader. Lambert in the mean time being encompassed with so many perplexities, vexed on the one side with checks and taunts, and pressed on the other side with the authority and threats of the personages; partly being amazed with the majesty of the place in PAGE 354 the presence of the king, and especially being wearied with long stand- ing, which continued no less than five hours, from twelve at noon until five at night, being reduced to despair, that he should not profit in this contest; and seeing no hope from farther argument, chose rather to hold his peace. Consequently the bishops spake what they listed without interruption, save only that Lambert would now and then allege a word or two for the defence of his cause; but for the most part, being overcome with weariness and grief, he held his peace, defending himself rather with silence than with arguments. At last when the day was passed, and torches began to be lighted, the king desiring to break up this pretend- ed disputation, said to Lambert, "What sayest thou now after all these great labours which thou hast taken upon thee, and all the reasons and instructions of these learned men? Art thou not yet satisfied? Wilt thou live or die? What sayest thou? Thou hast yet free choice." Lambert answered, "I yield and submit myself wholly unto the will of your majesty." "Then," said the king, "commit thyself unto the hand of God, and not unto mine." To which he piously replied - "I commend my soul unto the hands of God, but my body I wholly yield and submit unto your clemency." Then said the king, "If you do commit yourself unto my judg- ment, you must die, for I will not be a patron unto heretics." Then sternly addressing Cromwell, he commanded to read the sentence of con- demnation against him. And we cannot but wonder to see how unfortunately it came to pass, that through the pestiferous and crafty counsel of this bishop of Winchester, Satan, who often raises up one brother to the destruction of another, here performed the condemnation of Lambert by no other ministers than reformers themselves, namely, Taylor, Barnes, Cranmer, and Cromwell, who afterwards in apparent judgment, all suffered the like for the gospel's sake. Cromwell, at the king's command, taking the schedule of condemnation in hand, read it aloud; wherein was con- tained the burning of heretics, which either spake or wrote any thing, or had any books by them, repugnant or disagreeing from the papistical church and tradition touching the sacrament of the altar: also a decree that the same should be set upon the church porches, and be read four times every year in every church throughout the realm, whereby the worshipping of the bread should be the more firmly fixed in the hearts of the people. Thus was John Lambert, in this bloody session, by the king, condemned to death; whose judgment now remaineth with the Lord against that day, when both princes and subjects shall stand and appear, not to judge, but to be judged, according as they have done and deserved. Upon the day appointed for this holy martyr of God to suffer, he was brought out of the prison at eight o'clock in the morning unto the house of the lord Cromwell, and carried into his inner chamber, where, it is reported of many, that Cromwell desired of him forgiveness for what he had done. There at the last, Lambert being admonished that the hour of his death was at hand, he was greatly comforted and cheered; and being brought out of the chamber into the hall, he saluted the gentlemen, and sat down to breakfast with them, shewing no manner of PAGE 355 sadness or fear. When breakfast was ended, he was carried straight to the place of execution at Smithfield. The manner of his death was dread- ful; for after his legs were nearly consumed and burned, and that the wretched tormentors and enemies of God had withdrawn the fire from him, then two who stood on each side with their halberds, pitched him, from side to side as far as the chain would reach; while he, lifting up such hands as he had, cried unto the people in these words:- "None but Christ, none but Christ!" He was soon after let down again from their halberds, fell into the fire, and there ended his life. During the time he was in the archbishop's ward at Lambeth, which was a little before his disputation before the king, he wrote an excellent confession, or defence of his cause, to Henry. It commenced with a humble and modest preface, that the pride of majesty might not take offence at the advice of a subject. He declared, that he had a twofold consolation laid up for him. The one in the most high and mighty Prince of princes, God; the other, next unto God, his majesty, who should represent the office and ministry of that most high Prince in governing here upon earth. After thus proceeding in gentle words, he declared the cause which moved him to what he had done. That although he was not ignorant how odious this doctrine would be unto the people, yet notwithstanding, he knew how desirous the king was to search out the truth; he thought no time unfit to perform his duty, especially as he would not utter those things unto the multitude, lest he should occasion offence, but only unto the prince himself, unto whom he might safely declare his mind. After this preface, he confirmed his doctrine touching the sacrament by numerous testimonies of the scripture; by which he proved the body of Christ, whether it riseth, or ascendeth, or sitteth, or be conversant here, to be always in one place. Finally, in a masterly manner he gathered together all the opinions of the ancient fathers, declaring, from them, that Christ was only present in spirit, and that Hoc est corpus meum, meant only - "This signifies my body;" just as - "I am the bread - the vine - the door" - denote that these emblems were significant of himself. The popish party greatly triumphed in his death, and endeavoured to improve it. They persuaded the king of the good effects it would have on his people, who would in this see his zeal for the faith; and they forgot not to magnify all that he had said, as if it had been uttered by an oracle, which proved him to be both "Defender of the Faith, and Supreme Head of the Church." All this wrought so much on the king, that he resolved to call a parliament, both for suppressing the monasteries and the new opinions. Thus did this haughty and infatuated monarch pull down with one hand what the other was attempting to build up; and thus did his protestant as well as papal advisers "treasure up to themselves wrath against the day of wrath," and by their pusillanimous proceedings and treacherous principles only expose their lives to the fury of one party, and their own names to the derision or execration of the other. Fox, bishop of Hereford, died at this time: he had been much employed in Germany, and had settled a league between the king and the German princes. Henry was acknowledged the patron of this league; and in support of it, he sent PAGE 356 over 100,000 crowns a year. There was also a religious league proposed; but upon the change that followed in the court on queen Anne's death, it fell to the ground; and what their league embraced relating to religion, was, that they should unite against the pope as their common enemy, and set up the true religion according to the gospel. But a treaty upon other points was afterwards set on foot. The king desired Melancthon to come over; and several letters passed between them; but he could not be spared from Germany. The Germans sent over some to treat with the king; the points they insisted most on were, granting the chalice to the people, and putting down private masses, which the institutions seemed to express; having the worship in a known tongue, which both common sense and the authority of St. Paul seemed to justify. The third was, the marriage of the clergy; for they being extremely sensible of the honour of their families, reckoned that it could not be secured unless the priests might marry. Concerning these things, their ambassadors gave a long and learned memorial to the king; to which an answer was made, penned by Tonstal; stating that the things they complained of were justified by the ordinary arguments. Upon Fox's death, Bonner was pro- moted to Hereford; and Stokesly dying soon after, he was translated to London. Cromwell imagined that he had raised a man who would be a faithful second to Cranmer in his designs of reformation, who needed help, not only to balance the opposition made him by other bishops, but to lessen the prejudices he suffered by the weakness and indiscretion of his own party, who were generally rather clogs than helps to him. On the 28th of April a parliament was summoned, in which twenty of the abbots sat in person. On the 5th of May a motion was made, that some might be appointed to draw a bill against diversity of opinions in matters of religion; these were Cromwell, Cranmer, the bishops of Dur- ham, Ely, Bath and Wells, Bangor, Carlisle, and Worcester. They were divided in opinion; and though the popish party were five to four, yet the authority that Cromwell and Cranmer were in, turned the balance a little; they continued, however, to meet eleven days without coming to any point. Upon that the duke of Norfolk proposed the six articles: the first was for the corporeal presence; the second for communion in one kind; the third for observing the vows of chastity; the fourth for private masses; the fifth for the celibacy of the clergy; and the sixth for auricular confession: against most of these Cranmer argued several days. It is not likely he opposed the first, because he had given his opinion in Lambert's case: but he had the words of the institution, and the constant practice of the church for twelve ages, to object to the second; and for the third, since the monks were set at liberty to live in the world, it seemed hard to restrain them from marriage; and nothing so effectually cut off their pretensions to their former houses as their being married. For the fourth, if private masses were useful, then the king had done ill to suppress so many places chiefly founded for that end; the sacrament was also by its first institution, and the practice of the primitive church, to be a communion; while all private masses were invented to cheat the world. For the fifth, it touched Cranmer to PAGE 357 the quick, for it was believed he was married. Lee, Gardiner, and Ton- stal pressed much to have it declared necessary by the law of God. Cranmer argued against this, and said it was only a good and profitable thing. The king came frequently to the house in person, and disputed about these points with all the haughtiness of a monarch, and all the conceit of a pedant: generally he was against Cranmer, but in this particular he joined with him. Tonstal drew up all the quotations brought from ancient authors for it, in a paper which he delivered to the king; this the king answered in a long letter, written with his own hand, in which he shewed that the fathers only advised confession, but did not impose it as necessary; it was therefore concluded in general that it was merely desirable and expedient. At their next meeting, two committees were appointed to draw the bill of religion; Cranmer was the chief of the one, and Lee of the other: both their draughts were carried to the king, and were in many places corrected with his own hand; in some parts he wrote whole periods anew. That which Lee drew was more agreeable to the king's opinion; it was consequently brought into the house. Cranmer argued three days against it; and when it came to the vote, the king, who greatly desired to have it passed, desired him to go out; but he excused himself, thinking he was bound in conscience to vote against it: but the others who opposed it were more compliant, and it passed without any considerable opposition in the house of commons, and was assented to by the king. The substance of it was, that the king being sensible of the good of union, and of the mischief of discord, in point of religion, had come to the parliament in person, and opened many things of high learning there, and that with the assent of both houses he set forth these articles: That in the sacrament there was no sub- stance of bread and wine; but only the natural body and blood of Christ. That Christ was entirely in each kind, and therefore communion in both was not necessary. That priests by the law of God ought not to marry. That vows of chastity taken after the age of twenty-one ought to be kept. That private masses were lawful and useful. That auricular confes- sion was necessary, and ought to be retained. The several sentences denounced against opposers were also determined. Such as did speak or write against the first were to be burned without the benefit of abjura- tion: and it was made felony to dispute against the other five; and such as should speak against them were to be in a praemunire for the first offence, the second was made felony. Married priests who did not put away their wives were to be condemned of felony, as those who lived incontinently; the first offence was a praemunire, and the second felo- ny. Women who offended were to be punished as the priests were. Those who contemned confession and the sacrament, and abstained from it at the accustomed times, were for the first offence in a praemunire, the second was felony. Proceedings were to be made in the forms of common law, by presentments and a jury, and all churchmen were charged to read the act in their churches once a quarter. This act was received with great joy by all the popish party, who reckoned that now heresy would be extirpat- ed, and the king was as much engaged against it as he was when he wrote PAGE 358 against Luther: this made the suppression of the monasteries pass much the easier. The poor reformers were now exposed to the rage of their enemies, and had only one consolation left, namely, that they were not delivered up to the cruelty of the ecclesiastical courts, or the trials ex officio, but were to be tried by juries; yet the denying the benefit of abjuration was a severity without a precedent, and was a forcing martyrdom on them. Upon the passing the act, the German ambassadors desired an audience of the king, and told him of the grief with which their masters would receive the news, and earnestly pressed him to stop the execution of it. The king answered that he found it necessary to have the act made for repressing the insolence of some people, but assured them it should not be put in execution except upon great provo- cation. When the intelligence reached the princes, they wrote to the king to the same purpose; warned him of many bishops who were about him, who in their hearts loved popery, and all the old abuses, and took this method to force the king to return back to the former yoke, hoping that if they once made him the enemy of all those they called heretics, it would be easy to bring him back to submit to that tyranny which he had shaken off. They therefore proposed a conference between some divines on both sides in order to an agreement of doctrine. But the king being only concerned upon state maxims to keep up their league in opposition to the emperor, paid no regard to their proposal. After the act of the six articles had passed, that for suppressing the monasteries was brought in; and though there were so many abbots sitting the house, none of them protested against it. By it no monastery was suppressed, but only the resignations made or to be made were confirmed; and the king's right founded either on their surrenders, forfeitures, or attainders of treason, was declared good in law. All persons, except the founders and donors, were to have the same right to the lands belonging to these houses which they had before this act took place; and all the churches belonging to them, and formerly exempted, were put under the jurisdic- tion of the bishop, or of such should be appointed by the king. A ques- tion was raised whether the lands should have reverted to the donors, or been escheated to the crown. The grants being of the nature of coven- ants, given in consideration of the masses that were to be said for them and their families, it was urged that when the cheat of redeeming souls out of purgatory was discovered, and these houses suppressed, then the lands ought to revert to the heirs of the donors. Upon this account it was thought necessary to exclude them by a special proviso. Another bill was brought in, empowering the king to erect new bishoprics by his letters patent; it was read three times in one day in the house of lords. The preamble set forth, that the ill lives of those who were called religious, made it necessary to change their houses to better uses, for teaching the word of God, instructing children, educating clerks, relieving old and infirm people, endowing readers for Greek, Latin, and Hebrew, mending highways, and bettering the conditions of parish priests; and for this end the king was empowered to erect new PAGE 359 sees, and to assign what limits and divisions, and appoint them what statutes he pleased. When parliament was prorogued, the king ordered Cranmer to put in writing all the arguments he had used against the six articles, and bring them to him. He also sent Cromwell and the duke of Norfolk to dine with him, and to assure him of the constancy of his kindness. At the table they expressed great esteem for him, and acknowl- edged that he had opposed the six articles with so much learning and gravity, that those who differed most from him, could not but highly value him for it, and that he needed not fear any thing from his royal master. Cromwell said the king made the difference between him and the rest of his council, that he would not so much as hearken to any com- plaints made against him, and drew a parallel between him and cardinal Wolsey; the one lost his friends by pride, and the other gained on his enemies by his humility and mildness: the duke of Norfolk remarked that Cromwell could speak best of the cardinal, having been his man so long. This heated Cromwell, who answered that he never liked his manners; and though Wolsey had intended, if he had been chosen pope, to have carried him to Italy, yet he was resolved not to have gone; but he knew the duke intended to have gone with him. Upon this the duke of Norfolk was great- ly enraged, swore he lied, and gave him foul language. This put all the company in great disorder: they were partly reconciled, but were never hearty friends after. Cranmer, agreeably to the king's desire, put his reasons against the six articles together, and gave them to his secre- tary to be written out in a fair hand for him; but crossing the Thames with the book in his bosom, the secretary met with such an adventure on the water as might at another time have sent the author to the fire. There was a bear baited near the river, which breaking loose, ran into it, and happened to overturn the boat in which Cranmer's secretary was. Being in danger of his life, he took no care of the book, which falling from him floated on the river, and was taken up by the bear-ward, and put in the hand of a priest who stood by, to see what it might contain; he presently found it was a confutation of the six articles, and told the bear-ward that the author of it would certainly be hanged. When the secretary came to ask for it, and said it was the archbishop's book, the priest, who was an obstinate papist, refused to deliver it, and reckoned that now Cranmer would be certainly ruined; but the secretary acquaint- ing Cromwell with it, he called for him next day, and chid him severely for presuming to keep a privy counselor's book. and took it out of his hands: thus Cranmer was delivered out of this danger. Shaxton and Latimer not only resigned their bishoprics, but being presented for some words spoken against the six articles, they were imprisoned, and re- mained so till a recantation discharged the one, and the king's death set the other at liberty. There were about 500 others presented on the same account; but on the intercessions of Cranmer, Cromwell, and others, they were set at liberty, and a stop was put to the further execution of the act till Cromwell fell. The bishops of the popish party still hoping to gain the ascendancy, used strange methods to insinuate them- selves into the king's confidence; they took out commissions, by which PAGE 360 they acknowledged that all jurisdiction, civil and ecclesiastical, flowed from the king, and that they exercised it only at his courtesy; and as they received it from his bounty, so they would be ready to deliver it up when he should be pleased to call for it; and therefore the king did empower them in his stead to ordain, and do all the other parts of the episcopal function, which was to last during his pleasure; and a mighty charge was given them to ordain none but persons of great integrity, good life, and well learned; for since the corruption of religion flowed from ill pastors, so the reformation of it was to be expected chiefly from good pastors. Thus they became indeed the king's bishops. In this Bonner set an example to the rest. It does not appear that Cranmer took out any such commission all this reign. Now came on the total dissolution of the abbeys: fifty-seven surrenders were made this year; of these thirty-seven were monasteries, twenty nunneries, and twelve parliamentary abbeys. The valued rents of the lands, as they were then let, was 132,607l. 6s. 4d, but they were worth above ten times the sum in true value. Henry had now the greatest advantage that ever king of England possessed, both for enriching the crown, and establishing royal foundations. But such was his easiness to his courtiers, and his lavishness, that these vast treasures melted away in a few years, with- out his accomplishing any pious and useful designs. Out of eighteen bishoprics which he intended to found, he made only six; other great projects also became abortive. In particular one that was designed by Sir Nicholas Bacon, which was a seminary for statesmen: he proposed erecting a house for persons of quality, or of extraordinary endowments, for the study of the civil law, and of the Latin and French tongues; of whom some were to be sent with every ambassador beyond sea, to be im- proved in the knowledge of foreign affairs, in which they should be employed according to their capacities. Others were to write the history of transactions abroad, and affairs at home. This was to supply one loss that was likely to follow the fall of abbeys, in most of which there had been kept a chronicle of the times. These were written by men more credulous than judicious, and hence they were often more particular in the recital of trifles than of important affairs; and an invincible humour of lying, when it might raise the credit of their house, ran through all their manuscripts. The only ground that Cranmer gained this year, in which so much was lost, was a liberty for all private persons to have bibles in their houses; and truly this was a great and important point in the cause of God. Gardiner opposed it vehemently, and urged that without tradition it was impossible to understand the meaning of the scriptures. One day, before the king, he challenged Cranmer to shew any difference between the scriptures and the apostles' canons. It is not known how Cranmer managed the debate, but the issue of it was that the king judged in his favour, and said he was an old experienced captain, and ought not to be troubled by fresh men and novices. The king was at this time resolved to marry again. The emperors endeavoured by all possible means to separate him from the princes of the Smalcadic league, and in this he was greatly facilitated by the act of the six PAGE 361 articles; for they complained much of the King's severity in those points, which were the principal parts of their doctrine, such as com- munion in both kinds, private masses, and the marriage of the clergy. Gardiner resolutely strove to animate the king against them; he often told him, it was below his dignity to suffer dull Germans to dictate to him; and suggested, that they who would not acknowledge the emperor's supremacy in the matters of religion, could not be hearty friends to the authority which the king wished them to acknowledge. But what other considerations could not prevail with the king, were likely to be more powerfully carried on by the match with Anne of Cleves, which was now set on foot. There had been a treaty between her father and the duke of Lorraine, for marrying her to the duke's son; but it had gone no farther than a contract between the fathers. Hans Holbein, the celebrated paint- er of that age, painted a beautiful and flattering picture of her, which was sent over to Henry. It was said she possessed great charms in her person, but could speak no language but Dutch, which the king knew not: nor had she learned music. The match was at last agreed on, and in the end of December she was brought over. The king being impatient, went incognito to Rochester; but he no sooner saw her than he was struck with disappointment and chagrin. There was an appearance of roughness which did not all please him; he swore they had brought over a Flanders mare to him, and took up an incurable aversion to her. He resolved, if it were possible, to break the match; but his affairs made the friendship of the German princes very necessary to him, so that he did not think it advisable to put any affront on the dukes of Saxe and Cleve, her brother and brother-in-law. The emperor at this time made a hasty journey through France, and Francis and he had an interview. Henry tried if the contract with the duke of Lorraine's son could furnish him with a fair excuse to break the match. The king expressed the great trouble he was in, both to Cromwell and many of his other servants; but nothing could be built on that contract, which was only an agreement between the fathers, their children being under age, and it being afterwards an- nulled and broken by the parents. When also Cranmer and Tonstal were required to give their opinions as divines, they said, much to his disappointment - there was nothing in it to hinder the king's marrying the lady. On the 6th of January therefore the king married her; but expressed his dislike for her so visibly that all about him took notice of it. Though he lived five months with her, his aversion to her rather increased than abated. She seemed little concerned at it, and expressed a great readiness to concur in every thing that might disengage him from a marriage so unacceptable to him. Instruments were brought over to shew that the contract between her and the prince of Lorraine was void; but some difficulty arose, because it was not declared whether the contract was in the present or the future tense. At the next meeting of parlia- ment the lord chancellor disclosed the matters relating to the state for which the king had called them, whereupon the vicegerent spake to them concerning religion. He told them there was nothing which the king desired so much as an entire union among all his subjects; but some PAGE 362 incendiaries opposed it as much as he promoted it; and between rashness on the one hand, and inveterate superstition on the other, great dissen- sions had arisen. These were inflamed by the reproachful names of papist and heretic; and though they had now the word of God in all their hands, yet they studied rather to justify their passions out of it, than to govern their lives by it. In order to this, the king resolved to set forth an exposition of the doctrine of Christ without any corrupt mix- tures, and to retain such ceremonies as might be of use: that being done, he was resolved to punish all transgressors of what party soever they might be. For this end he had appointed the two archbishops, and the bishops of London, Durham, Winchester, Rochester, Hereford, and St. David's, and eleven divines, for settling the creed of the nation; and the bishops of Bath and Wells, Ely, Sarum, Chichester, Worcester, and Landaff, for the appointment of ceremonies. These committees sat as often as the affairs of parliament did not interfere with their proceed- ings. A bill was at this time brought in for suppressing the knights of St. John of Jerusalem. There was at first only a hospital for entertain- ing pilgrims that went to visit the holy grave; after which there was instituted an order of knights and they and the Knight Templars conduct- ed and guarded the pilgrims. It was considered for some ages one of the highest expressions of devotion to Christ, to go and visit the places where he was crucified, buried, and ascended to heaven; and it was looked on as highly meritorious to fight for recovering the Holy Land out of the hands of infidels; so that almost every one who thought he was dying, either vowed to go to the holy war, or left something to such as should go. If they recovered, they bought off their vow by giving some lands for the entertainment of those knights. Great complaints arose against the Templars; but whether it was their wealth that made them a desirable prey, or their guilt that drew ruin down upon them, is not certain. They were, however, condemned in a council, and all of them that could be found were cruelly put to death. But the other order was still continued; and being beaten out of Judea, they settled at Rhodes, from which they were some time after expelled, and are now settled at Malta. They were under a great master, who depended on the pope and the emperor. But since they could not be brought to surrender of their own accord, as others had done, it was necessary to suppress them by act of parliament. Another house which they had in Ireland was also suppressed, and pensions were reserved for the priors and knights. On the 12th of June a sudden turn took place at court; the duke of Norfolk arrested Cromwell for high treason, and sent him prisoner to the Tower. He had many enemies. The meanness of his birth provoked the nobility to madness in being obliged to admit him one of their order, and salute the son of a blacksmith as earl of Essex. The provocation was increased when a garter was bestowed on him, and he was successively raised to be lord privy seal, lord chamberlain of England, lord vicegerent, and master of the rolls. All the popish clergy hated him violently. They imputed the suppression of monasteries, and the injunctions that were laid on them, PAGE 363 chiefly to his counsels; and it was thought that by his means the king and the emperor continued to be on such ill terms. Henry now understood that there was no agreement likely to be made between the emperor and Francis, and he was sure they would both court his friendship in case of war, which made him less concerned for the favour of the German prince, so that Cromwell's counsels now became unacceptable. With this a secret reason concurred. The king not only hated the queen, but had fallen in love with Catherine Howard, niece to the duke of Norfolk, which both raised his interest and depressed Cromwell, who had made the former match. The king was also too willing to cast upon him all the errors comitted of late, and by making him a sacrifice he hoped to regain the affections of his people. The king had also information brought him, that Cromwell secretly encouraged those who opposed the six articles, and discouraged those who went about the execution of them. Cromwell had not the least apprehension of his fall before the storm broke upon him. He shared the common fate of all disgraced ministers; his friends forsook him, and his enemies insulted over him: Cranmer alone adhered to him, and wrote earnestly to the king in his favour. He said he found that he had always loved the king above all things; and had served him with such fidelity and success that he believed no monarch ever had a more faithful servant: and he wished the king might find such a counsel- lor, who both could and would serve him as he had done. So great and generous a soul had Cranmer, that he was not moved by changes in his friend's fortune, and would thus venture on the displeasure of so im- perious a prince rather than fail in the duties of friendship. But the king was resolved to ruin Cromwell. He had such enemies in the house of lords, that a bill of attainder was dispatched in two days, being read twice in one day. Cranmer being absent, no other would venture to speak for him. But he met with more justice in the commons, for it remained ten days there. In conclusion a new bill was drawn against him, and sent up to the lords, to which they consented, and it had the royal assent. In it they set forth, that though the king had raised from a base state to great dignities, yet it appeared by many witnesses that he had been the most corrupt traitor ever known; that he had set many at liberty who were condemned or suspected of treason; that he had dispersed many erroneous books, contrary to a true belief of the sacrament, and had said that every man might administer it as well as a priest; that he had licensed many preachers suspected of heresy, and had ordered many to be discharged who were committed on that account, and had released all informers; that he had many heretics about him, and above a year before, he had said the preaching of Barnes and others was good; that he would not turn though the king did, but if the king turned he would fight in person against him, and, drawing out his dagger, he wished that might pierce him to the heart if he should not do it. For these things he was attainted both of high treason and heresy. A proviso was added for securing the church of Wells, of which he had been dean. The king now proceeded on his divorce. An address was moved and passed by the lords, PAGE 364 that he would suffer his marriage to be examined. Cranmer and others were accordingly sent down to desire the concurrence of the commons; and they ordered twenty of their number to accompany the lords, who went in a body to the king. He granted their desire, the matter being concerted before. A commission was then sent to the convocation to discuss it: Gardiner opened it to them; and they appointed a committee for the examination of witnesses. The substance of the whole evidence amounted to these particulars: that the matter of the pre-contract with the prince of Lorraine was not fully cleared - and it did not appear that it was made by the queen, or whether it was in the words of the present time or not; that the king had married her against his will, and had not given an inward and complete consent; and that he had never consummated the marriage, so that they saw he could have no issue by the queen. Upon these grounds the whole convocation, with one consent, annulled the marriage, and declared both parties free. This was the grossest piece of hypocrisy that the king ever received from his clergy in his whole reign. In the process for the king's first divorce, they had laid it down as a principle that a marriage was complete, though it were never consummated. But the king was resolved to be rid of the queen, and the clergy were resolved not to offend him. The judgment of the convocation was reported to the house of lords and commons, and both houses were satisfied with it. Next day some lords were sent to the queen, who had retired to Richmond. They told her the king was resolved to declare her his adopted sister, and to settle 4000l. a year on her, if she would consent to it, which she cheerfully embraced; and it being left to her choice either to live in England or to return to her brother, she pre- ferred the former. They persuaded her also to write to her brother, that all this matter was done with her good will, that the king used her as a father, and that therefore her brother and his German allies should not take it ill at his hands. When things were thus prepared, the act con- firming the judgment of the convocation passed without opposition. An act passed mitigating one clause in the six articles, by which the pain of death for the marriage or incontinence of the clergy was changed into a forfeiture of their goods and benefices. Another act passed, that no pretence of a pre-contract should be made use of to annul a marriage duly solemnized and consummated; and that no degree of kindred, but those enumerated in the law of Moses, might hinder a marriage. This last was added, to enable the king to marry Catherine Howard, who was cousin- german to Anne Boleyn, which was one of the degrees prohibited by the canon law. Several bills of attainder were passed; and in conclusion, the king sent a general pardon, out of which Cromwell and others were excepted. After this the parliament was dissolved. Cromwell was execut- ed on the 28th of July. He thanked God for bringing him to die in that manner, which was just on the account of his sins against God, and his offences against his prince. He declared that he doubted of no article of the catholic faith, nor of any sacrament of the church. He said he had been seduced, but now he died in the catholic faith, and denied he had supported preachers of ill opinions. He desired all their prayers, PAGE 365 prayed very fervently for himself, and ended his days with exemplary resignation. He rose by the strength of his natural parts, for his education was but humble. He had the New Testament in Latin by heart. He bore his greatness with extraordinary moderation, and fell rather under the weight of popular odium than guilt. At his death he mixed none of the superstitions of the church of Rome with his devotions; it was therefore said, that he used the words "catholic faith" in its true sense, and in opposition to the novelties of that church. Yet his ambig- uous mode of expressing himself made the papists declare that he died repenting his heresy. But the protestants said that he left the world in the same reformed faith in which he lived. It was believed that the king lamented his death when it was too late; and the miseries that fell on the new queen, and on the duke of Norfolk and his family, were looked upon as strokes from Heaven for their persecution of this unfortunate minister. With his fall, the progress of the reformation was checked, for Cranmer could never gain much ground after, and indeed many hoped to see him quickly sent after Cromwell; some complained of him in the house of commons, and informations were brought to the king, stating that the chief encouragement which the heretics received came from him. The ecclesiastical committees employed by the king were now at work, and gave the finishing to a book formerly prepared, but at this time cor- rected and explained in many particulars. They began with the explana- tion of faith, which, according to the doctrine of the church of Rome, was thought an implicit believing whatever the church proposed; but the reformers made it their chief object to persuade the people to believe in Christ, and not in the church; and made great use of those places in which it was said that Christians are justified by faith only; though some explained this in such a manner, that it gave their adversaries occasion to charge them with denying the necessity of good works; but they all taught, that though they were not necessary to justification, yet they were necessary to salvation. They differed also in their notion of good works: the church of Rome taught that the honour done to God in his images, or to the saints in their shrines and relics, or to the priests, were the best sort of good works; whereas the reformers urged justice and mercy most, and charged the other with superstition. The merit of good works was too highly raised, so that many thought they purchased heaven by them. This the reformers also corrected, and taught the people to depend upon the death and intercession of Christ, as the only meritorious ground of divine acceptance. Having therefore settled the notion of faith, they divided it into two sorts: one was a persua- sion of the truth of the gospel; but the other carried with it a submis- sion to the will of God.and both hope, love and obedience belonged to it, which was the faith professed in baptism, and so much extolled by St. Paul. It was not to be understood, as if it were an assurance of our salvation, which may be only a presumption, since all God's promises are made to us on conditions; but it was an entire receiving the whole gospel according to our baptismal vow. And what are the conditions here implied? St. Paul clearly says, "If thou confess with thy mouth the PAGE 366 Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God has raised him from the dead, THOU SHALT BE SAVED." Now all scripture is given by inspiration of God. It was the Spirit of Truth who thus spoke by the mouth of St. Paul. And can the Holy Spirit lie? We must believe that God hath raised up Jesus from the dead, to be "a propitiation, through faith in his blood, to all who receive him." The Lord himself saith, "He that believeth on the Son, hath everlasting life; and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life; but the wrath of God abideth on him." Again, St. Paul to the Romans observes, "Ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry Abba, Father; the Spirit itself bearing witness with our spirits that we are the children of God." "I am the resurrection and the life," saith Christ again; "he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die:" that is, eternally. Now if all this is indeed believed, eternal glory is confirmed, since we have the promise of him whose word is truth. But, alas! how has error overwhelmed mankind! for ask all the professors of the day whether they believe? they will answer, yes; but ask them again, whether they are heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ? they will tell you that they live in hope - but dare not, cannot say they are. They will tell you it is presumptuous so to say. What! is it presumptuous to believe the word of God? "If thou believest, thou shalt be saved." Do they believe this, "that the fearful and unbelieving shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone?" Alas! these are not believers, but doubters: for "he who believeth hath set to his seal that God is true." Their "fear towards God is taught them by the precept of men," and not by the Holy Ghost; for if it were, they would sing the song of Moses and the Lamb. It can be only the "Love of God shed abroad in the heart" that can give a disposition cheerfully to perform the "works of faith and labours of love." Oh, ye deceivers or deceived, do not any longer reject the plain glorious words of God against yourselves, nor under a feigned humility refuse to rejoice in him whom ye profess to believe. You would be thought to have the Spirit; but when we would look at your fruit, you shew us darkness, despair, and doubt, forgetting that Jesus drank the bitter cup of his Father's wrath, for you, that you, through faith, might drink the cup of joy and salvation. "The fruits of the Spirit are love, joy, peace;" and yours are the reverse. It cannot, therefore, be the work of the Spirit. Cease, cease, frail man, to pervert the ways of the Lord. Take the Bible in your hand, and compare yourself with the glorious host of saints, and see if you be like them. They, as must also all their descendants, mourned for their sins, and suffered from a wicked generation; but amidst all their mournings, they rejoiced that CHRIST was their RIGHTEOUSNESS: amidst all their sufferings, they rejoiced that they had a house not made with hands, eternal in the heav- ens. They knew that the promises of God were yea and amen. God can be worshipped only by the faith that works by love; this love alone can lead his people to obedience; because they know that they were "called to glory and virtue." They will, therefore, be holy, because their King is holy; and when they offend, they hate themselves, because they feel that they are ungrateful to him who purchased them with his blood. O reader! art thou a believer? Hast thou "set to thy seal that God is true?" Is thy faith founded in the evidence of the scripture, not because thy parents, thy country, thy teachers have told thee so - these are only the evidences of men; but because the Spirit of Truth hath by his written word revealed it to thee? If so, "rejoice with joy unspeak- able and full of glory," for know, that although thou art here perhaps "tossed with tempests and afflicted," yet "all things are thine, and thou art Christ's, and Christ is God's." Thou shalt inherit all things, and he shall be thy GOD, and thou shalt be his SON. Doubts become not thy lips, nor despair thy heart. Sing praises then unto him who washed your robes, and made them white in the pure blood of his own spotless sacrifice. He has said enough to satisfy the most scrupulous mind - "These things have I spoken unto you that in me ye may have peace: in the world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have over- come the world." Cranmer took great pains to state these matters right; and made a large collection of many places, all written with his own hand, out of the ancient and modern authors, concerning faith, justifi- cation, and the merit of good works; and concluded with this, that our justification was to be ascribed only to the merits of Christ, and that those who are justified must have charity as well as faith, but that neither of these was the meritorious cause of justification. After this was stated agreeably to his views, the commissioners made next a large and full explanation of the apostle's creed with great judgment, and many excellent practical inferences. The definition they gave of the catholic church runs thus: "It comprehends all assemblies of men in the whole world that receive the faith of Christ, who ought to hold an unity of love and brotherly agreement together, by which they become members of the catholic church." After this they explained the seven sacraments. In discussing these things there were great debates; for, as was former- ly mentioned, the method used was to open the point in hand by proposing many queries, and every one was to give in his answers with the reasons of it; and then others were appointed to make an abstract of those things, in which all either agreed or differed. The original papers relating to these points are yet preserved, which shew with what great consideration they proceeded. Baptism was explained as had been done formerly. Penance was made to consist in the absolution of the priests, which had been formerly declared only to be desirable where it could be had. In the communion, transubstantiation, private masses, and communion in one kind, were asserted: also the obligation of the Levitical law about the degrees of marriage, and the indissolubleness of that bond. They declared the divine institution of priests and deacons; and that no bishop had authority over another. They made a long dissertation against the pope's pretensions, and for justifying the king's supremacy. They said, confirmation was instituted by the apostles, and was profitable but not necessary to salvation; and they also asserted extreme unction to have been commanded by the apostle James for the health both of soul and body. Then were the ten commandments explained; the second was added PAGE 368 to the first, but the introductory words were left out. It was declared that no religious honour was to be done unto images, and that they ought only to be reverenced for their sake whom they represented; therefore the preferring one image to another, and making pilgrimages and offer- ings to them, were condemned, while kneeling before them was permitted; yet the people were to be taught that this was done only to the honour of God. Invocation of saints, as intercessors, was allowed; but imme- diate addresses to them for the blessings that were prayed for were condemned. The strict rest from labour on the seventh day was declared to be ceremonial; but it was asserted to be essential to rest from sin and carnal pleasure, and to follow holy duties. The other commandments were explained in a very simple and practical way. Then was the Lord's Prayer explained, and it was enjoined that the people pray in their vulgar tongues, for exciting their devotion the more. The angel's salu- tation to the virgin was also paraphrased. They handled free-will, and defined it to be a power by which the will, guided by reason, did with- out constraint discern and choose good and evil; the former by the help of God's spirit, and the latter of itself. Grace was said to be offered to all men, but was made effectual by a willing application of it; and grace and free-will did consist well together, the one being added for the help of the other. Men were justified freely by the grace of God, but that was applied by faith; and faith is the gift of God, saith the apostle; so that salvation is all of God. "Thy people shall be willing in the day of thy power." "No man can come unto me, except the Father which hath sent me draw him." In the good works thus divinely produced, both the fear of God, repentance, and amendment of life were included. All curious reasonings about predestination were condemned. Those works were necessary which were not the superstitious inventions of monks and friars; not only moral works done by the power of nature, but works of charity flowing from a pure heart and faith unfeigned. Fasting, and the other fruits of penance, were also good works, but of an inferior nature to justice and the other virtues: these were all in a sense meritorious, yet since they were wrought in men by God's spirit, all boasting was excluded. The commissioners ended with an account of prayers for souls departed, almost the same that was in the articles published before. The reformers were dissatisfied with many things in the book, yet were they glad to find the morals of religion so well opened; for the purity of soul which that might effect would dispose people to sound opinions: many superstitious practices were also condemned, and the gospel coven- ant was rightly stated. One article was also asserted in it, which opened the way to a further reformation; for every national church was declared to be a complete body, with power to reform heresies, and do every thing that was necessary for preserving its own purity, or govern- ing its members. The popish party now thought they had recovered much ground, which seemed lost formerly. They knew the reformers would never submit to all things in this book, which would alienate the king from them; but they were safe, being resolved to comply with him in every thing, without which it was dangerous to live in England, for the king's PAGE 369 peevishness grew upon him with his age. This party now studied to engage the king in new severities against the reformers; the first instance of which fell on three preachers, Barnes, Garret, and Jerome, who had been early wrought on by the works of Luther. These were worthies in the christian cause, richly deserving the reader's knowledge and admiration. Dr. BARNES was educated in the university of Louvain, in Brabant. On his return to England he went to Cambridge, where he was made prior of the order of Augustines, and steward of the house in which that order resid- ed. On his entrance, the darkest ignorance pervaded the university, all things being full of rudeness and barbarity, excepting a few persons whose learning was unknown to the rest. Dr. Barnes, zealous to promote knowledge and truth, soon began to instruct the students in classic languages, and, with the assistance of Parnel, his scholar, whom he had brought from Louvain, he soon caused learning to flourish, and the university to bear a very different aspect. These foundations laid, he began to read openly the epistles of St. Paul, and teach in greater purity the doctrine of Christ. He preached and disputed with great warmth against the luxuries of the higher clergy, particularly against cardinal Wolsey, and the lamentable hypocrisy of the times. But still he remained ignorant of the great cause of these evils, namely, the idola- try and superstition of the church; and while he declaimed against the stream, he himself drank at the spring, and kept it running for others to quench their fanatical thirst. At length, happily becoming acquainted with Bilney, he was by that martyr's conversation wholly converted unto Christ. The first reformed sermon he preached, was on the Sunday before Christmas-day, at St. Edward's church, Trinity Hall, in Cambridge. His theme was the epistle of the day, Gaudete in Domino, and he commented on the whole epistle, following the scripture and Luther's exposition. For that sermon he was immediately accused of heresy by two fellows of the King's Hall. On this the learned in Christ, of Pembroke Hall, St. John's, Peter's House, King and Queen's Colleges, Gunwell Hall, and Benet College, flocked together both in the schools and in more public places, almost daily and hourly conferring together, and many of them disputing about the course it was their duty to pursue. The house to which they chiefly resorted was the White Horse Inn, which, in contempt, was called Germany. This house especially was chosen, because many of them of St. John's, the King's College, and the Queen's College, were able to enter at the back gate. At this time much trouble began to ensue. The adversaries of Dr. Barnes accused him in the Regent House before the vice-chancellor, whereon his articles were presented and received, he promising to make answer at the next convocation. Then Dr. Nottoris, a bitter enemy to Christ, moved Barnes to recant; but he refused, as appears in his book which he wrote to king Henry in English, confuting the judgment of cardinal Wolsey, and the residue of the popish bishops. They continued in Cambridge, one preaching against another, until within six days of Shrovetide, when suddenly a sergeant at arms was sent down, called Gibson, dwelling in St. Thomas Apostle, in London, to arrest Dr. Barnes openly in the convocation-house, to strike others PAGE 370 with fear. It was also rivily determined to search for Luther's books. Dr. Farman, of the Queen's College, learning this, sent word of it privately to the chambers of those who were suspected, which were thirty persons; and they were conveyed away by the time that the sergeant at arms, the vice-chancellor, and the proctors were at their chamber, going directly to the place where the books lay. It was this proceeding which shewed that there were spies with the sergeant, and that night they studied together, and gave Barnes his answer, which answer he carried with him to London the next morning, being the Tuesday before Shrove Sunday. On Wednesday he arrived in London, and lay at Mr. Parnel's house. Next morning he was taken before cardinal Wolsey at Westminster, waiting there all day, and could not speak with him till night, when by reason of Dr. Gardiner, secretary to the cardinal, and of Mr. Fox, master of the wards, he spake with cardinal in his chamber of state, kneeling. "Is this," said Wolsey to them, "Dr. Barnes, who is accused of heresy?" "Yes, and please your grace," replied they; "and we trust you will find him reformable, for he is learned and wise." "What, Mr. Doctor," said Wolsey, "had you not a sufficient scope in the scriptures to teach the people, but that my golden shoes, my poll-axes, my pillars, my cushions, my crosses, did so offend you, that you must make us rid- iculum caput amongst the people, who that day laughed us to scorn? Verily it was a sermon fitter to be preached on a stage than in a pul- pit; for at last you said, I wear a pair of red gloves, 'I should say bloody gloves,' quoth you, that I should not be cold in the midst of my ceremonies." To this banter Dr. Barnes answered, "I spake nothing but the truth out of the scriptures, according to my conscience, and accord- ing to the ancient doctors." And then he delivered him six sheets of paper written, to confirm and corroborate his sentiments. The cardinal received them smiling, saying, "We perceive then that you intend to stand to your articles, and to shew your learning." To which Barnes replied, "Yea, that I do by God's grace, with your lordship's favour." The cardinal now became angry and said, "Such as you bear us little favour, and the catholic church less. I will ask you a question; whether you do think it more necessary that I should have all this royalty, because I represent the king's majesty in all the high courts of this realm, to the terror and keeping down of all rebellious traitors, all wicked and corrupt members of this commonwealth, or to be as simple as you would have us, to sell all these things, and to give them to the poor, who shortly will cast them in the dirt, and to pull away this princely dignity, which is a terror to the wicked, and to follow your counsel?" "I think it necessary," said Barnes, "to be sold and given to the poor. All this is not becoming your calling; nor is the king's majesty maintained by your pomp and poll-axes, but by God, who saith per me reyes regnant, kings and their majesty reign and stand by me." Turn- ing to the attendants, the cardinal then satirically said, "Lo, master doctors, he is the learned and wise man that you told me of." Then they kneeled down and said, "We desire your grace to be good unto him, for he PAGE 371 he will be reformable." The cardinal appeared softened by their words, and mildly said, "Stand you up; for your sakes and the university we will be good unto him." Turning to Barnes, he added, "How say you, master doctor, do you not know that I am legutus de latere, and that I am able to dispense in all matters concerning religion within this realm, as much as the pope himself?" Barnes meekly said, "I know it be so." The cardinal then asked, "Will you be ruled by us, and we will do all things for your honesty, and for the honesty of the university." Barnes answered, "I thank your grace for your good will; I will adhere to the holy scripture, as to God's book, according to the simple talent that God hath lent me." The cardinal ended the dialogue by saying, "Well, thou shalt have thy learning tried to the uttermost, and thou shalt have the law." He would then have been sent to the Tower, but Gardiner and Fox standing sureties for him, he returned to Mr. Parnel's again, and devoted the whole night to writing. Next morning he came to Gardiner and Fox, and soon after he was committed to the sergeant at arms, who brought him into the chapter-house, before the bishops, and Islip, the abbot of Westminster. At this time there were five men to be examined for Luther's book and Lollardy; but after they spied Barnes they set these aside, and asked the sergeant at arms what was his er- rand. He said he had brought Dr. Barnes on a charge of heresy, and then presented both his articles and his accusers. Immediately after a little talk they swore him, and laid his articles to him, on which he answered as he had done the cardinal before, and offered the book of his proba- tions unto them. They took it from him, but said they had no leisure to dispute with him at present, on account of other affairs of the king's majesty which they had to do, and therefore bade him stand aside. They then called the five men again, one by one, and after they were exam- ined, they were all committed to the Fleet. Dr. Barnes was recalled and asked, whether he would subscribe to his articles? he subscribed will- ingly, when they committed him and young Parnel to the Fleet with the others. There they remained till Saturday morning, and the warden had orders that no man should speak with him. On the Saturday he was again brought before them into the chapterhouse, and there with the men remained till five at night. After long disputations, threatenings, and scornings, they called upon him to know whether he would abjure or burn. He was greatly agitated, and felt inclined rather to burn than abjure. But he was then said again to have the council of Gardiner and Fox, and they persuaded him rather to abjure than to burn, because they pleaded he might in future be silent, urging other reasons to save his life and check his heresy at the same time. Upon that, kneeling down, he consent- ed to abjure, and the abjuration being put into his hand, he abjured as it was there written, and then he subscribed with his own hand; yet they would scarcely receive him into the bosom of the church, as they termed it. Then they put him to an oath, and charged him to execute and fulfil all that they commanded him, which he accordingly promised. On this they commanded the warden of the Fleet to carry him and his fellows to PAGE 372 the place whence he came, and to be kept in close prison, and in the morning to provide five fagots for Dr. Barnes and the four men; the fifth man being ordered to have a taper of five pounds weight to be provided for him, to offer to the rood of Northen in Paul's, and all these things to be ready by eight on the following morning; and that he with all that he could make with bills and glaves, and the knight- marshal with all his tipstaves that he could make, should bring them to Paul's, and conduct them home again. Accordingly, in the morning they were all ready by their appointed hour in St. Paul's church, which was crowded beyond measure. The cardinal had a scaffold made on the top of the stairs for himself, with six and thirty abbots, mitred priors, and bishops, and in his whole pomp mitred sat there enthroned, his chaplains and spiritual doctors in gowns of damask and satin, and he himself in purple. There was also a new pulpit erected on the top of the stairs for the bishop of Rochester to preach against Luther and Barnes; and great baskets full of books standing before them within the rails, which were commanded, after the great fire was made before the rood of Northen, there to be burned, and these heretics after the sermon to go thrice about the fire and to cast in their fagots. During the sermon, Dr. Barnes and the men were commanded to kneel down and ask forgiveness of God, and the catholic church, and the cardinal's grace; after which he was commanded, at the end of the sermon, to declare that he was used more charitably than he deserved, his heresies being so horrible and detestable: once more he kneeled, desiring of the people forgiveness and o pray for him. This farce being ended, the cardinal departed under a canopy, with all his mitred men with him, till he came to the second gate of Paul's, when he took his mule, and the mitred men came back again. Then the prisoners being commanded to come down from the stage, whereon the sweepers used to stand when they swept the church, the bishops sat them down again, and commanded the knight-marshal and the warden of the Fleet, with their company, to carry them about the fire, and then were they brought to the bishops, and there kneeled down for absolution. The bishop of Rochester standing up, and declaring to the people how many days of pardon and forgiveness of sins they had for being at that sermon, and that Dr. Barnes with the others were received into the church again. This done, the warden of the Fleet and knight- marshal were commanded to take them to the Fleet again, there to remain till the lord cardinal's pleasure was known, and charged that they should have the same liberty as other prisoners, and that their friends might be admitted to them. Dr. Barnes having remained here half a year, was delivered to be a free prisoner at the Austin friars in London. But here being watched by his enemies, they made new complaints of him to the cardinal, upon which he was removed to the Austin friars of North- ampton, there to be burned; of which intention, however, he was perfect- ly ignorant. At length Mr. Horne, who had brought him up, and who was his particular friend, gaining intelligence of the writ which was short- ly to be sent down to burn him, advised him to feign himself to be in a state of despair, and to write a letter to the cardinal and leave it on PAGE 373 his table where he lay, with a paper to declare whither he was gone to drown himself, and to leave his clothes in the same place; and another letter to be left to the mayor of the town to search for him in the water, because he had a letter written in parchment about his neck, closed in wax for the cardinal, which should teach all men to beware of him. This scheme he accordingly put in execution, and they were seven days searching for him; but he was conveyed to London in poor man's apparel, and from thence took shipping, and went to Antwerp, where he found Luther. Here he renewed his studies, and wrote a book, which was an answer to all the bishops of the realm, entitled, Acta Romanorum Pontificum, and another with a supplication to king Henry. Immediately it was told the cardinal that he was drowned, he said, "Perit memoria ejus cum sonitu," - a sentence which lighted upon himself shortly after, when he died wretchedly at Leicester. Dr. Barnes now became learned in the word of God, and strong in Christ, and was in great esteem with all men whose esteem was honourable, particularly Luther, Melancthon, Pomer- an, Justice Jonas, Hegendorphinus, and AEpinus; the duke of Saxony, and the king of Denmark, the last of whom, in the time of More and Stokesly, sent him with the Lubecks as ambassador to king Henry the Eighth. Sir Thomas More, who had now succeeded Wolsey as chancellor, would fain have entrapped him: but the king would not let him, and Cromwell was his great friend. Before he left, the Lubecks and he disputed with the bishops of England in defence of the truth, and he was allowed to depart again without restraint. After going to Wittenberg, to the duke of Saxony and Luther, he remained there to forward his works in print which he had begun, after which he returned again in the beginning of the reign of queen Anne, as others did, and continued a faithful preacher in London, being all her time well entertained and promoted. After that he was sent ambassador by Henry to the duke of Cleves, upon the business of the marriage between the lady Anne of Cleves and the king. He gave great satisfaction in every duty which was entrusted to him, till Gardiner arrived from France, after which neither religion, the queen's majesty, Cromwell, nor the preachers prospered. Not long after this, Dr. Barnes, with his brethren, were apprehended and carried before the king at Hampton Court, where he was examined. The king being desirous to bring about an agreement between him and Gardiner did, at the request of the latter, grant him leave to go home with the bishop to confer with him. But as it happened, they not agreeing, Gardiner and his co-partners sought by all subtle means how to entangle and entrap Barnes and his friends in furthur danger, which not long after was brought to pass. By certain complaints made to the king of them, they were enjoined to preach three sermons the following Easter at the Spittle; at which sermons, besides other reporters which were sent thither, Gardiner himself was present, sitting with the mayor, either to bear record of their recantation, or else, as the Pharisees came to Christ, to ensnare them in their talk, if they should speak any thing amiss. Barnes preached first; and at the conclusion of his sermon, requested Gardiner, if he thought he had said nothing contradictory to truth, to hold up his PAGE 374 hand in the face of all present, upon which Gardiner immediately held up his finger. Notwithstanding this, they were all three, by the means of the reporters, sent for to Hampton Court, whence they were conducted to the Tower, where they remained till they were brought out to death. Mr. GARRET was a London curate. About the year 1526, he came to Oxford, and brought with him sundry books in Latin, treating of the Scriptures, with the first of Unio dissidentium, and Tindal's first translation of the New Testament in English, which books he sold to several scholars in Oxford. After he had disposed of them, news came from London that he was searched for through all that city, to be apprehended as a heretic, and to be imprisoned for selling heretical publications, as they were termed. It was not unknown to cardinal Wolsey, the bishop of London, and others, that Mr. Garret had a great number of those books, and that he was gone to Oxford to sell them to such as he knew to be the lovers of the gospel. Wherefore they determined to make a secret search through all Oxford, to apprehend and imprison him, and to burn all his books, and him too if they could. But happily one of the proctors, Mr. Cole of Magdalen College, being well acquainted with Mr. Garret, gave secret warning to a friend or two of his of the search, and advised that he should, as secretly as possible, depart from Oxford: for if he were taken, he would certainly be forthwith sent to the cardinal, and be committed unto the Tower. The Christmas before that time, Anthony Dalabar, student of Alban's Hall, paid a visit to his native place, Stalbridge, in Dorsetshire, where he had a brother, a clergyman of the parish, who was very desirous to have a curate from Oxford, and wished him to get one thence if he could. This just occasion offered, and was approved among the brethren, for so they were not only called, but were indeed such one to the other, that Mr. Garret, changing his name, should be sent with letters into Dorsetshire to his brother to serve him there for a time, until he might secretly convey himself somewhere over the sea. Accordingly hereunto he wrote letters in all possible haste to his brother, in favour of Mr. Garret, to be his curate; but not declaring what he was indeed, his brother being a papist, and afterwards the most mortal enemy that ever he had for the gospel's sake. Things being thus settled, on the Wednesday morning before Shrovetide, Mr. Garret departed for Dorsetshire, with his letters for his new service. How far he went, and by what occasion he soon returned, was not known. But the following Friday night, he came to Radley's house where he lay before, and after midnight, in the privy search which was then made for him, he was taken in bed by the two proctors, and on the Saturday morning was delivered to Dr. Cottisford, master of Lincoln college, then being commissary of the university, who kept him as prisoner in his own chamber. At this there was great joy and rejoicing among all the papists, and especially with Dr. Loudon, warden of the New College and Dr. Higdon, dean of Frides- wide, who immediately sent their letters post-haste to the cardinal, to inform him of the apprehension of this notable heretic, for which they were well assured of receiving great thanks. But of all this sudden hurly-burly, Dalabar was utterly ignorant, so that he knew neither of PAGE 375 Mr. Garret's sudden return, nor that he was taken, until he came into his chamber, being then in Gloucester college, as a man amazed; and as soon as he saw him he said he was undone, for he was taken. He spake thus unadvisedly in the presence of a young man who came with him. When the young man was departed, Dalabar asked him what he was, and what acquaintance he had with him. He said, he knew him not; but that he had been to seek a monk of his acquaintance in that college, who was not in his chamber, and thereupon desired his servant to conduct him to his brother. He then declared how he was returned and taken in the privy search. Dalabar then said to him, "Alas! Mr. Garret, by your uncircums- pect coming and speaking before this young man, you have disclosed yourself and utterly undone me." He asked him why he went not to his brother with his letters. He answered that after he was gone a day's journey and a half, he was so fearful, that his heart suggested that he must needs return to Oxford; and accordingly he came again on Friday at night, and then was taken. But now, with tears, he prayed Dalabar to help to convey him away, and then cast off his hood and gown wherein he came, and desired a coat with sleeves, saying he would if possible disguise himself, go into Wales, and thence convey himself into Germany. Dalabar then put on him a sleeved coat of his own. He would also have had another kind of cap, but there was no one to be found for him. Then they both kneeled down together, and lifting up their hearts and hands to God their heavenly Father, desiring him so to conduct and prosper him in his journey, that he might escape the danger of all his enemies, to the glory of his holy name, if his good pleasure so were. They then embraced, and could scarcely bid adieu for sorrow; at length, disguised in his brother's garments he departed. But his escape soon became known, and immediate search was made for him about the college; not being found there, he was pursued and taken at a place called Hinksey, a little beyond Oxford, and being brought back again was committed to ward: that done he was convened before the commissary, Dr. Loudon, and Dr. Higdon, dean of Frideswide, now called Christ's College, in St. Mary's church, where they sat in judgment, convicted him according to their law as a heretic, and afterward compelled him to carry a fagot in open procession from St. Mary's church to the place whence he came. After this, flying from place to place, he escaped their tyranny, until the time that he was again apprehended with Dr. Barnes. WILLIAM JEROME was vicar of Stepney, and was convinced of the disgusting errors of the church of Rome, and the consequences that flowed from them, preaching with great zeal, and substituting the pure and simple doctrines of the gospel for the perversions and traditions of men. Thus proceeding, he soon became known to the enemies of truth, who watched him with malignant jealousy. It was not long before, in a sermon he preached at St. Paul's, on the fourth Sunday in Lent, wherein he dwelt upon justification by faith, he so offended the legal preachers of the day, that he was summoned to the presence of the king at Westminster, and there accused of heresy. It was urged against him that he had insisted, according to St. Paul to his PAGE 376 epistle to the Galatians - That the children of Sara, allegorically used for the children of the promise, were all born free, and, independent of baptism or of penance, were through faith made heirs of God. Dr. Wilson argued against him, and strongly opposed this doctrine. But Jerome defended it with all the force of truth, and said that although good works were the means of salvation, yet that they followed as a conse- quence of faith, whose fruits they were, and which discovered their root, even as good fruit proves a good tree. But in spite of this good confession, so inveterate were his enemies, and so deluded was the king, that Jerome was committed to the Tower, in company with the other two soldiers of Christ, destined with them to suffer for his faith. Here they remained, while a process was issuing against them by the king's council in parliament, by whom, without hearing or knowledge of their fate, they were attainted of heresy, and sentenced to the flames. On the 30th of the following June they were brought from the Tower to Smith- field, where they were permitted to address the people. Dr. Barnes spoke first, as follows - "I am come hither to be burned as a heretic, and you shall hear my belief, whereby you may perceive what erroneous opinion I hold. God I take to record, I never to my knowledge taught any erroneous doctrine, but only those things which scripture led me into; neither in my sermons have I ever maintained or given occasion for any insurrec- tion; but with all diligence evermore did I study to set forth the glory of God, the obedience to our sovereign lord the king, and the true and sincere religion of Christ: and now hearken to my faith. "I believe in the holy and blessed Trinity, three persons and one God, who created and made all the world, and that this blessed Trinity sent down the second person, Jesus Christ, into the womb of the most blessed and pure virgin Mary. I believe that he was conceived by the Holy Ghost, and took flesh of her; and that he suffered hunger, thirst, cold, and other passions of our body, sin excepted, according to the saying of St. Peter. 'He was made in all things like to his brethren, except sin.' And I believe that this his death and passion was a sufficient ransom for sin. And I be- lieve that through his death he overcame sin, death, and hell, and that there is none other satisfaction unto the Father, but this his death and passion only, and that no work of man does deserve any thing of God, but Christ's passion only as touching our justification, for I know the best work that ever I performed is impure and imperfect." With this, he cast abroad his hands, and desired God to forgive him his trespasses. "For although perchance," said he, "you know nothing by me, yet do I confess that my thoughts and cogitations are innumerable; wherefore I beseech thee, O Lord, not to enter into judgment with me, according to the saying of the prophet David; and in another place, Lord, if thou strait- ly mark our iniquities, who is able to abide thy judgment? Wherefore, I trust in no good work that ever I did, but only in the death of Christ. I do not doubt but through him to inherit the kingdom of heaven. But imagine not that I speak against good works, for they are to be done, and verily they that do them not shall never come into the kingdom of God. We must do them, because they are commanded us of God, to shew and set forth our profession, not to deserve or merit; for that is only by PAGE 377 the death of Christ. I believe that there is a holy church, and a compa- ny of all that do profess Christ; and that all who have suffered and confessed his name are saints, and that they praise and laud God in heaven, more than I or any man's tongue can express." Then there was one that asked his opinion upon praying to saints. "Now of saints," said he, "you shall hear my opinion. I believe they are in heaven with God, and that they are worthy of all the honour that scripture willeth them to have. But I say, throughout scripture we are not commanded to pray to any saints. Therefore I neither can nor will preach to you that saints ought to be prayed unto; for then should I preach unto you a doctrine of mine own head. Notwithstanding, whether they pray for us or no, that I refer to God. And if saints do pray for us, then I trust to pray for you within this half hour, Mr. Sheriff, and for every Christian living in the faith of Christ, and dying in the same as a saint. Wherefore, if the dead may pray for the quick, I will surely pray for you." The Dr. then appealed more pointedly to the sheriff, and asked - "Have ye any articles against me for which I am condemned?" The sheriff answered, "No." Then said Barnes, "Is there here any man else that knoweth where- fore I die, or that by my preaching hath taken any error? Let him now speak, and I will make him answer." But no man answered. Then said he, "Well, I am condemned by the law to die, and as I understand by an act of parliament, but wherefore I cannot tell; perhaps it is for heresy, for we are likely to suffer under this charge, cruel as it is. But they that have been the occasion of it, I pray God forgive them, as I would be forgiven myself. And Dr. Stephen, bishop of Winchester, if he have sought or wrought this my death, either by word or deed, I pray God to forgive him, as heartily, as freely, as charitably, and as sincerely, as Christ forgave them that put him to death. And if any of the council, or any other, have sought or wrought it through malice or ignorance, I pray God forgive their ignorance, and illuminate their eyes, that they may see and ask mercy for it. I beseech you all to pray for the king's grace, as I have done ever since I was in prison, and do now, that God may give him prosperity, and that he may long reign among you; and after him that godly prince Edward, that he may finish those things that his father hath begun. I have been reported to be a preacher of sedition, and disobedience unto the king; but here I say to you, that you are all bound by the commandment of God to obey your prince with all humilty, and with all your heart, and that not only for fear of the sword, but also for conscience sake before God." After this admirable address, Dr. Barnes desired, if he had said any evil at any time unadvisedly, whereby he had offended any, or given any occasion of evil, that they would pardon him, and amend that evil they took of him, and to bear him wit- ness that he detested and abhorred all evil opinions and doctrines against the word of God, and that he died in the faith of Jesus Christ, by whom he doubted not but to be saved. With these words, he entreated them all to pray for him, and then he turned about, put off his clothes, and prepared himself to suffer. Jerome and Garret made a similar pro- PAGE 378 fession of their faith, reciting the several articles of their belief, and declaring their minds upon every article, as the time would allow, whereby the people might understand that there was no error for which they could justly be condemned; protesting, moreover, that they denied nothing that was either in the Old or New Testament, set forth by their sovereign lord the king, whom they prayed the Lord long to continue amongst them, with his son prince Edward. Jerome then addressed himself as follows: "I say unto you, good brethren, that Christ hath bought us all with no small price, neither with gold nor silver, or other such things of small value, but with his most precious blood. Be not unthank- ful therefore to him again, but do as much as to christian men belongeth to fulfil his commandments, that is, love your brethren. Love hurteth no man, love fulfilleth all things. If God hath sent thee plenty, help thy neighbour that hathneed. Give him good counsel. If he lack, consider if you were in necessity, you would gladly be refreshed. And again, bear your cross with Christ. Consider what reproof, slander, and reproach, he suffered for his enemies, and how patiently he suffered all things. Consider, that all Christ did was of his mere goodness, and not for our deserving. If we could merit our own salvation, Christ would not have died for us. But for Adam's breaking of God's precepts we had been all lost, if Christ had not redeemed us again. And like as Adam broke the precepts, and was driven of Paradise, so we, if we break God's command- ments, shall have damnation, if we do not repent and ask mercy. Now, therefore, let all christians put no trust nor confidence in their works, but in the blood of Christ, to whom I commit my soul to guide, beseeching you all to pray to God for me, and for my brethren here present with me, that our souls leaving these wretched bodies, may consistently depart in the true faith of Christ." After he had conclud- ed, Garret thus spoke: "I also detest and refuse all heresies and errors, and if either by negligence or ignorance I have taught or main- tained any, I am sorry for it, and ask God's mercy. Or if I have been so vehement or rash in preaching, whereby any person hath taken any of- fence, error, or evil opinion, I desire him and all other persons whom I have any way offended, forgiveness. Notwithstanding, to my remembrance, I have never preached willingly any thing against God's holy word, or contrary to the true faith; but have ever endeavoured, with my little learning and wisdom, to set forth the honour of God and right obedience to his laws, and also the king's accordingly: if I could have done better, I would. Wherefore, Lord, if I have taken in hand to do that thing which I could not perfectly perform, I desire thy pardon for my bold presumption. And I pray God to give the king good and godly counsel to his glory, to the king's honour, and the increase of virtue in this realm. And thus do I yield my soul up unto Almighty God, trusting and believing that he, of his infinite mercy, according to his promise made in the blood of his Son, Jesus Christ, will take it and pardon all my sins, of which I ask him mercy, and desire you all to pray with and for me, that I may patiently suffer this pain, and die in true faith, hope, and charity." The three martyrs then took each other by the hand, and PAGE 379 after embracing, submitted themselves to the tormentors, who, fastening them to the stake, soon lighted the fagots, and terminated their mortal life and care. Nearly at the same time Thomas Bernard and James Merton suffered. The offence of Bernard was the teaching of the Lord's Prayer in English; that of Merton, his keeping an English translation of the epistle of St. James. They were taken up at the instigation of Longland, bishop of Lincoln, and condemned to the flames. This summer the king went to York, to meet his nephew the king of Scotland, who promised him an interview there. The Scottish prince was an extraordinary person, a great patron both of learning and justice, but immoderately addicted to his pleasures. The clergy in Scotland were very apprehensive of his seeing his uncle, lest Henry might have persuaded him to follow his example with respect to the church; and they used such persuasions, that seconded by a message from France, they diverted the king from his purpose. Before we proceed to record the events relative to Scotland, which took place at this period, it will be necessary to give a brief relation of the reformation in that country. The long alliance between Scotland and France had rendered the two nations extremely attached to each other; and Paris was the place where the learned of Scotland had their education. Yet after the year 1412, learning came to have more footing in Scotland, and universities were set up in several episcopal sees. At the same time some of Wickliffe's followers began to creep into the country; and an Englishman, named Resby, was burnt in 1407 for teaching opinions contrary to the pope's authority. A few years after that, Paul Craw, a Bohemian, who had been converted by the ministry of John Huss, was burnt for infusing the opinions of that martyr into some members of the bigoted college of St. Andrew. About the end of that century, the sentiments of the Lollards spread themselves into many parts of the diocese of Glasgow, for which several persons of quality were accused; but they answered the archbishop of that see with such assurance, that he dismissed them, having admonished them to content themselves with the faith of the church, and to beware of new doctrines. The same spirit of ignorance, immorality, and superstition, had overrun the church there, that was so much complained of in other parts of Europe. The total neglect of the pastoral care, and the gross scandals of the clergy, possessed the people with such prejudices against them, that they were easily disposed to hearken to new preachers, the most conspicuous of whom are now to pass before us. PATRICK HAMILTON, a noble martyr, was highly descended. He was nephew, on his father's side, to the earl of Arran, and on his mother's, to the duke of Albany. He was bred up with the design of being advanced to clerical dignity, and he hoped to have an abbey given him for prosecuting his studies. He went over to Germany, and studied at the university of Marpurg, where he soon distinguished himself by his zeal, assiduity, and great progress, par- ticularly in the scriptures, which were his grand object, and to which he made every thing else subservient. There he became acquainted with Luther and Melancthon; and being convinced, from his own researches, as well as their ministry and advice, of the truth of their doctrines, he PAGE 380 burned to impart the light of the gospel to his own countrymen, and to shew them the errors and corruptions of their church. For this great purpose he returned to Scotland, fearless of any injury that might come upon himself, so that he might be faithful and useful to others. After preaching some time, and holding up the truth to his deluded countrymen, he was at length invited to St. Andrews to confer upon the points in question. But his enemies could not stand the light, and finding that they were unable to defend themselves by argument, resolved upon violence and revenge. Hamilton was accordingly imprisoned. Articles were exhibited against him, and upon his refusing to abjure them, Beaton, archbishop of St. Andrews, with the archbishop of Glasgow, three bishops, and five abbots, condemned him as an obstinate heretic, deliv- ered him to the secular power, and ordered his execution to take place that very afternoon: for the king had gone in pilgrimage to Ross, and they were afraid, lest, upon his return, Hamilton's friends might inter- cede effectually for him. When he was tied to the stake, he expressed great joy in his suffering, since by these he was to enter into ever- lasting life. A train of powder being fired, it did not kindle the fuel, but only burnt his face, which occasioned delay till more powder was brought; and in that time the friars called repeatedly to him to recant, to pray to the Virgin, and to say the Salve Regina. Among the rest, a friar named Campbell, who had been with him in prison, was very offi- cious. Hamilton answered, that he knew he was not a heretic, and had confessed it to him in private, and charged him to answer for that at the throne of Almighty God. By this time the gunpowder was brought, and the fire being kindled, he died, often repeating these words, "Lord Jesus, receive my soul." His relentless persecutor, Campbell, soon after became deranged, and died without recovering his reason. The views and doctrines of Hamilton were such as cannot fail to excite the highest admiration of every real believer; and they are withal expressed with such brevity, such clearness, and such peculiar vigour and beauty - forming in themselves a complete summary of the gospel - that they cannot but afford instruction to every class of readers who seek to know more of God, and of Jesus our Lord. We shall, therefore, make no apology for giving them at the following length. They were written by Hamilton himself in Latin, and translated into English by John Frith, a man worthy of such a task and such a friend. PAGE 381 THE DOCTRINE OF THE LAW. The law is a doctrine that biddeth good, and forbiddeth evil, as the commandments do here specify. THE TEN COMMANDMENTS OF GOD. 1. Thou shalt worship but one God. Exod. xx. 3. 2. Thou shalt make thee no image to worship it. Exod. xx. 4, 5. 3. Thou shalt not swear by his name in vain. Exod. xx. 7. 4. Hold the Sabbath day holy. Exod. xx. 8, 9, 10, 11. 5. Honour thy father and thy mother. Exod. xx. 12. 6. Thou shalt not kill. Exod. xx. 13. 7. Thou shalt not commit adul- tery. Exod. xx. 14. 8. Thou shalt not steal. Exod. xx. 15. 9. Thou shalt not bear false witness. Exod. xx. 16. 10. Thou shalt not desire ought that belongeth to thy neighbour. Exod. xx. 17. All these are briefly comprised in the two ensuing:- Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy mind; this is the first and great commandment. The second is like unto this, that is, thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets. Matt. xxii. 37, 38, 39. CERTAIN GENERAL PROPOSITIONS PROVED BY SCRIPTURE. Proposition. - He that loveth God loveth his neighbour. This proposi- tion is proved, 1 John iv. 20. "If a man say, I love God, and yet hateth his brother, he is a liar. He that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen?" Proposition. - He that loveth his neighbour as himself, keepeth all the commandments of God. This proposition is proved, Matt. vii. Rom. xiii. "Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, even so do to them. For this is the law and the prophets." Matt. vii. 12. "He that loveth his neighbour fulfilleth the law." Rom. xiii. 8. "All the law is fulfilled in one word, that is, love thy neighbour as thyself." Gal. v. 14. Proposition. - He that hath faith loveth God. "My father loveth you, because you love me, and believe that I come of God." John xvi. 27. Proposition. - It is not in our power to keep any one of the commandments of God. It is impossible to keep any of the commandments of God without grace. It is not in our power to have grace. Therefore, it is not in our power to keep any of the commandments of God. And even so you may reason con- cerning the Holy Ghost and faith, forasmuch as neither without them we are able to keep any of the commandments of God, neither yet be they in our power to have. PAGE 382 "It is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth; but of God that sheweth mercy." or giveth grace. Rom. ix. 16. Proposition. - The law was given us to shew our sin. "By the law cometh the knowledge of sin." Rom. iii. 20. "I knew not what sin meant, but through the law: for I had not known what lust had meant, except the law had said, thou shalt not covet. Without the law sin was dead," it moved me not, neither wist I that I was in sin, which notwithstanding was sin, and forbidden by the law. Rom. vii. 7 Proposition. - The law biddeth us to do that thing which is impossible for us. The keeping of the commandments is to us impossible. The law commandeth to us the keeping of the commandments; therefore, the law commandeth unto us what is impossible. But thou wilt say, wherefore doth God bid us do that which is impossible for us? I answer, to make us know that we are but evil, and that there is no remedy to save us in our own hand: and that we may seek remedy at some other; for the law doth nothing else but command and condemn us. THE DOCTRINE OF THE GOSPEL. The gospel is as much as to say in our tongue, good tidings; and these be the following, and others like them. Christ is the Saviour of the world. "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved." John iii. 16, 17. Christ died for our sins. "Who was delivered for our offences." Rom. iv. 25. Christ bought us with his blood. "We are redeemed by the precious blood of Christ." 1 Peter i. 19. Christ washed us with his blood. "Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood." Rev. i. 5. Christ offered himself for us. "Who gave himself for our sins." Gal. i. 4. Christ bare our sins on his back. "He bare the sin of many." Isaiah liii. 12. Christ came into this world to take away our sins. "For this purpose the Son of God was manifested, that he might destroy the works of the devil." 1 John iii. 8. Christ was the price that was given for us and our sins. "Who gave himself a ransom for all, to be testified in due time." 1 Tim. ii. 6. Christ was made debtor for us. "The law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death." Rom. viii. 2. Christ has paid our debt, for he died for us. "Blotting out the hand- writing of ordinances that was against us, which was contrary to us, and took it out of the way, nailing it to his cross." Col. ii. 14. Christ made satisfaction for us and our sins. "All things are of God, who hath reconciled us to himself by Jesus Christ, and hath given to us the ministry of reconciliation. 2 Cor. v. 18. PAGE 383 Christ is our righteousness. "Of him are ye in Christ Jesus, who of God is made unto us righteousness." 1 Cor. i. 30. Christ is our sanctifica- tion. "Of him who is made unto us our sanctification." 1 Cor. i. 30. Christ is our redemption. "In whom we have redemption through his blood." Eph. i. 7. Christ is our peace. "Being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ." Rom. v. 1. Christ hath pacified the Father of Heaven for us. "It pleased the Father that in him should all fulness dwell; and, having made peace through the blood of his cross, by him to reconcile all things unto himself; whether they be things in earth, or things in heaven." Col. i. 19, 20. Christ is ours, and all are his. "All things are your's; ye are Christ's; and Christ is God's." 1 Cor. iii. 21, 23. THE DISTINCT NATURE AND OFFICE OF THE LAW AND THE GOSPEL. The law sheweth us our sin. "Now we know that what things soever the law saith, it saith to them who are under the law: that every mouth may be stopped, and all the world may become guilty before God." Rom. iii. 19. The gospel sheweth us remedy for it. "Grace and truth came by Jesus Christ. Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of the world." John i. 17, 29. The law sheweth us our condemnation. "I was alive without the law once: but when the commandment came, sin revived, and I died. And the commandment, which was ordained to life, I found to be unto death." Rom. vii. 9, 10. The gospel sheweth us our redemption. "Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom of his dear Son: in whom we have redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of sins." Col. i. 13, 14. The law is the word of ire. "The law worketh wrath: for where no law is, there is no transgression." Rom. iv. 15. The gospel is the word of grace. "We believe that through the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, we shall be saved." Acts xv. 11. The law is the word of despair. "Cursed be he that confirmeth not all the words of this law to do them." Deut. xxvii. 26. The gospel is the word of comfort. "Waiting for the consolation of Israel." Luke ii. 25. The law is the word of restlessness. "When we were in the flesh, the motions of sins, which were by the law, did work in our members to bring forth fruit unto death." Rom. vii. 5. The gospel is the word of peace. "He came and preached peace to you which were afar off, and to them that were nigh." Eph. ii. 17. PAGE 384 A DISPUTATION BETWEEN THE LAW AND THE GOSPEL. The law saith, Pay thy debt. The gospel saith, Christ hath paid it. The law saith, Thou art a sinner, despair, and thou shalt be damned. The gospel saith, Thy sins are forgiven thee, be of good comfort, for thou shalt be saved. The law saith, Make amends for thy sins. The gospel saith, Christ hath made it for thee. The law saith, The Father of Heaven is angry with thee. The gospel saith, Christ hath pacified him with his blood. The law saith, Where is thy righteousness, goodness, and satisfaction? The gospel saith, Christ is thy righteousness, thy goodness, and thy satisfaction. The law saith, Thou art bound and obliged to me, to the devil, and to hell. The gospel saith, Christ hath delivered thee from them all. THE DOCTRINE OF FAITH. Faith is to believe God, like as Abraham believed God, and it was imput- ed unto him for righteousness. To believe God is to credit his word, and to reckon it true that he saith. He that believeth not God's word, believeth not God himself. He that believeth not God's word counteth him false and a liar, and believeth not that he may and will fulfil his word; and so he denieth both the might of God, and God himself. Propo- sition. - Faith is the gift of God. Argument.--Every good thing is the gift of God. Faith is a good thing; therefore faith is the gift of God. Proposition.--Faith is not in our power. Argument. - The gift of God is not in our power. Faith is the gift of God; therefore faith is not in our power. Proposition.- He that lacketh faith cannot please God. For saith the apostle Paul - "Without faith it is impossible to please God," Hebrews xi. 6; and "Whatsoever is not of faith is sin," Romans xiv. 23; and sin, being a transgression of his law, must be displeasing to him. Hence he that lacketh faith, trusteth not God; he that trusteth not God, trusteth not his word; he that trusteth not his word, holdeth him false and a liar; he that holdeth him false and a liar, believeth not that he may do that he promiseth, and so he denieth that he is God. Therefore, "a primo ad ultimum," he that lacketh faith cannot please God. If it were possible for any man to do all the good deeds that ever were done, either of men or angels, yet being in this case it is impossible for him to please God. PAGE 385 Proposition. - All that is done in faith pleaseth God. "Right is the word of God, and all his works are done in truth." Psalm xxxiii. 4. "O Lord, are not thine eyes upon the truth." Jer. v. 3. That is as much as to say, Lord, thou delightest in faith; as faith can have to do only with truth. Proposition. - He that hath faith, and believeth God, cannot displease him. He that hath faith, believeth God; he that be- lieveth God, believeth his word; he that believeth his word knoweth well that he is true and faithful, and cannot lie, knowing that he both can and will fulfil his word. Therefore he that hath faith cannot displease God, neither can any man do a greater honour to God, than to count him true. Objection. - Thou wilt then say, that theft, murder, adultery, and all vices that a believer may be tempted to commit, are pleasing to God. Nay, verily, for they cannot be done in faith: "For a good tree beareth good fruit, and corrupt fruit is borne by an evil tree" Matt. vii. 17, 18. Proposition. - Faith is certainty or assuredness. "Faith is a sure confidence of things which are hoped for, and certainty of things which are not seen." Heb. xi. 1. "The same Spirit certifieth our spirit, that we are the children of God." Rom. viii. 16. Moreover, he that hath faith knoweth well that God will fulfil his word. Whereby it appeareth, that faith is a certainty or assuredness. "These things have I written unto you that believe on the name of the Son of God; that ye may know that ye have eternal life, and that ye may believe on the name of the Son of God." 1 John v. 13. A MAN IS JUSTIFIED BY FAITH. "Abraham believed God, and it was imputed unto him for righteousness." Rom. iv. 3. "We conclude therefore, that a man is justified by faith, without the deeds of the law." Rom. iii. 28. "He that worketh not, but believeth on him that justifieth the wicked, his faith is counted to him for righteousness." Rom. iv. 5. "The just liveth by his faith." Hab. ii. 4. Heb. x. 38. "We know that a man is not justified by the deeds of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ; and we believe in Jesus Christ, that we may be justified by the faith of Christ, and not by the deeds of the law." Gal. ii. 16. WHAT IS THE FAITH OF CHRIST? The faith of Christ is to believe in him; that is, to believe in his word, and believe that he will help us in all our need, and deliver us from all evil. If it be asked - what word? I answer with St. Paul, "The word of truth, and gospel of salvation." Eph. i. 13. "He that believeth PAGE 386 in Christ shall be saved." Mark xvi. 16. "He that believeth the Son hath everlasting life." John iii. 36. "Verily I say unto you, he that be- lieveth in me hath everlasting life." John vi. 24. "This I write unto you, that you believe on the Son of God, that ye may know that you have eternal life." 1 John v. 13. "All the prophets to him bear witness, that whosoever believeth in him shall have remission of their sins." Acts x. 43. "What must I do to be saved?" was the question of the jailer. The apostle answered, "Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." Acts xvi. 30, 31. "If thou acknowledge with thy mouth that Jesus is the Lord, and believest with thine heart that God raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved." Rom. x. 9. He that believeth not in Christ shall be condemned. - "He that believeth not the Son shall never see life, but the wrath of God abideth on him." John iii. 18, 36. "The Holy Ghost shall reprove the world of sin, because they believe not in me." John xvi. 9. They that believe in Jesus Christ are the sons of God. - "Ye are all the sons of God, because ye believe in Jesus Christ." Gal. iii. 26. "He that believeth that Christ is the Son of God is safe." John i. 12. "Peter said, 'Thou art Christ the Son of the living God.' Jesus answered and said unto him, 'Happy art thou Simon the son of Jonas, for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in Heaven.'" Matt. xvi. 17. "These things are written that ye might believe, that Jesus is Christ the Son of God, and that ye in believing might have life." John xx. 36. Proposition. - He that believeth the gospel believeth God. Argument. - He that believeth God's word be- lieveth God. The gospel is God's word; therefore, it follows that he that believeth the gospel believeth God. Now to believe the gospel is this, "That Christ is the Saviour of the world." John iv. 42. And then faith is more particular, and saith, Christ is our Saviour. Christ bought us with his blood. Christ washed us with his blood. Christ of- fered himself for us. Christ bare our sins in his own flesh. Proposi- tion. - He that believeth not the gospel believeth not God. Argument. - He that believeth not God's word, believeth not God himself. The gospel is God's word; therefore, we infer that he that believeth not the gospel believeth not God himself; and consequently he that believeth not those things above written, and such other as God has revealed, believeth not God. What then is the sum of all? He that believeth the gospel shall be saved. "Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every crea- ture: he that believeth and is baptised shall be saved: but he that believeth not shall be condemned." Mark xvi. 16. A COMPARISON BETWEEN FAITH AND INCREDULITY. Faith is the root of all good. Incredulity is the root of all evil. Faith maketh God and man good friends. Incredulity maketh them foes. Faith bringeth God and man together. Incredulity sundereth them. PAGE 387 All that faith doth pleaseth God. All that incredulity doth displeaseth God. Faith only maketh a man good and righteous. Incredulity only maketh him unjust and evil. Faith maketh a man a member of Christ. Incredulity maketh him a member of the devil. Faith maketh a man an inheritor of heaven. Incredulity maketh him an inheritor of hell. Faith maketh a man a servant of God. Incredulity maketh him a servant of the devil. Faith sheweth us God to be a sweet father. Incredulity sheweth him a terrible judge. Faith holdeth stiff by the word of God. Incredul- ity wavereth here and there. Faith counteth and holdeth God to be true. Incredulity holdeth him false and a liar. Faith knoweth God. Increduli- ty knoweth him not. Faith loveth both God and his neighbour. Increduli- ty loveth neither of them. Faith only saveth us. Incredulity only condemneth us. Faith extolleth God and his deeds. Incredulity extolleth herself and her own deeds. DISSERTATION ON HOPE. Hope is a trusty looking after the thing that is promised us to come, as we hope after the everlasting joy, which Christ hath promised unto all that believe in him. Our hope and trust should be fixed on divine power and grace, and on them alone. "It is good to trust in God and not in man." Psalm cxviii. 8. "He that trusteth in his own heart is a fool." Prov. xxviii. 26. "It is good to trust in God, and not in princes." Psalm. cxviii. 9. "They shall be like unto the images which they make, and all that trust in them." Psalm cxv. 8. "He that trusteth in his own thoughts doth ungodly." Prov. xii. 5. "Cursed is he that trusteth in man." Jer. xvii. 5. "Bid the rich men of this world that they trust not in their unstable riches, but that they trust in the living God." 1 Tim. vi. 17. "It is hard for them that trust in money to enter into the kingdom of Heaven." Luke xviii. 24. Moreover, we should trust in him only that may help us; God only may help us, therefore we should trust in him only. - "Well are they that trust in God, and woe to them that trust not in him." Psalm ii. 12. Jer. xvii. 7. "He that trusteth in him shall understand the verity." Wisd. iii. 13. "They shall rejoice that trust in thee: they shall ever be glad, and thou wilt defend them." Psalm v. 11. OF CHARITY. Charity is the love of our neighbour. The rule of charity is this: do as thou wouldst be done to; for Christ holdeth all alike, the rich and the poor, the friend and the foe, the thankful and the unthankful, the PAGE 388 kinsman and the stranger. Wouldst thou know the line between this and the other christian virtues, faith and hope? then remember well that faith cometh of the word of God, hope cometh of faith, and charity springeth of them both. Faith believeth the word; hope trusteth after that that is promised by the word: charity doth good unto her neighbour, through the love that it hath to God, and gladness that is within her- self. Faith looketh to God and his word; hope looketh unto his gift and reward: charity looketh on her neighbour's profit. Faith receiveth God; hope receiveth his reward: charity loveth her neighbour with a glad heart, and that without any respect of reward. Faith pertaineth to God only; hope to his reward: and charity to her neighbour. Faith is the leading grace; hope follows to anticipate the enjoyment of what faith believes: but charity endures when these have done their office - according to the apostle, "Now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest - that is, the most abiding - of these is charity. 1 Cor. xiii. 13. THE DOCTRINE OF GOOD WORKS. No works of our own make us righteous before God. The apostle saith - "We believe that a man shall be justified without works." Rom. iii. 20. "No man is justified by the deeds of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ, and we believe in Jesus Christ that we may be justified by the faith of Christ, and not by the deeds of the law; for if righteousness come by the law, then died Christ in vain." Gal. ii. 16. 17. Moreover since Christ the maker of heaven and earth, and all that is therein, behoved to die for us, we are compelled to grant that we were so far drowned and sunken in sin, that neither our deeds, nor all the treasures that ever God made or might make, could have holpen us out of them; therefore no deeds or works may make us righteous. Nor are works neces- sary to make us unrighteous. If any evil works make us unrighteous, then the contrary works should make us righteous. But it is proved that no works can make us righteous: therefore no works make us unrighteous - that is, are necessary to constitute us guilty before God. It is proved that works neither make us righteous nor unrighteous; for righteous and good are one thing, and unrighteous and evil likewise one. Good works make not a good man, nor evil works an evil man: but a good man bringeth forth good works, and an evil man evil works. Good fruit maketh not the tree good, nor evil fruit the tree evil: but a good tree beareth good fruit, and an evil tree evil fruit. A good man cannot do evil works, nor an evil man good works; for a good tree cannot bear evil fruit, nor an evil tree good fruit. A man is good ere he do good works, and evil ere he do evil works: for the tree is good ere it bear good fruit, and evil ere it bear evil fruit. The conclusion from this is, that every man, and the works of man, are either good or evil. Every tree, and the fruits thereof, are either good or evil. "Either make ye the tree good, and the fruit good also, or else make the tree evil, and the fruit of it likewise evil." Mat. xii. 33. A good man is known by his works: for a good man doeth good works, and an evil man evil works. Ye shall know them by their fruit; for a good tree beareth good fruit, and an evil PAGE 389 tree evil fruit. A man is likened to the tree, and his works to the fruit of the tree. "Beware of the false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves: ye shall know them by their fruits." Matt. vii. 15. If works make us neither righteous nor unrighteous, then thou wilt say, It maketh no matter what we do. I answer, If thou do evil, it is a sure argument that thou art evil, and wantest faith. If thou do good it is an argument that thou art good, and hast faith; for a good tree beareth good fruit, and an evil tree evil fruit. Yet good fruit maketh not the tree good, nor evil fruit the tree evil; so that man is good ere he do good deeds, and evil ere he do evil deeds. Faith maketh the good tree, and incredulity the evil tree: such a tree, such fruit, such a man, such works. For all things that are done in faith please God, and are good works; and all that are done without faith displease God, and are evil works. Whosoever believeth or thinketh to be saved by his works, denieth that Christ is his saviour, that Christ died for him, and all things that pertain to Christ. For how is he thy saviour if thou mightest save thyself by thy works? or whereto should he die for thee, if any works might have saved thee? What is this to say, Christ died for thee? Verily that thou deservedst to have died perpetually; and Christ to deliver thee from death died for thee, and changed thy perpetual death into his own temporary death: for thou madest the fault, and he suffered the pain, and that for the love he had to thee before thou wast born, when thou hadst done neither good nor evil. Now seeing he hath paid thy debt, thou needest not endeavour to pay it, neither couldst thou pay it; but shouldst be damned if his blood were not to ransom thee. But since he was punished for thee, thou shall not be punished. For remember he hath delivered thee from thy condemna- tion and all evil, and desireth nought of thee, but that thou wilt acknowledge what he hath done for thee, and bear it in mind, and that thou wouldst help others for his sake both in word and deed, even as he hath holpen thee for nought, and without reward. O how ready should we be to help others, if we knew his goodness and gentleness towards us; he is a good and a gentle Lord, for he doth all for nought. Let us I beseech you, therefore, follow his footsteps, whom all the world ought to praise and worship. He that assumeth to save himself by his works calleth himself Jesus, a saviour, a name belonging not to any mere man, but to him alone who was the Son of God, and who was Christ as well as Jesus, anointed of God for our salvation. What is a saviour, but he that saveth? and he that saith, I saved myself, is as much as to say, I am PAGE 390 Christ; for Christ only is the Saviour of the world. We should do no good works to the intent of getting the inheritance of heaven, or ob- taining remission of sin. For whosoever believeth to get the inheritance of heaven, or remission of sin, through works, he believeth not to get the same for Christ's sake; and they that believe not that their sins are forgiven them, and that they shall be saved for Christ's sake, they believe not the Gospel: for the Gospel saith, "You shall be saved for Christ's sake, your sins are forgiven for Christ's sake." He that be- lieveth not the gospel, believeth not God. So it followeth, that they which believe to be saved by their works, or to get remission of their sins by their own deeds, believe not God, but account him a liar, and so utterly deny him to be God. Objection. - Thou wilt say, shall we then do no good deeds? I answer not so, but I say we should do no good works to the intent to get the inheritance of heaven, or remission of sin. For if we believe the inheritance of heaven to be through good works, then we believe not to get it through the promise of God. Or if we think to get remission of our sins by our deeds, then we believe not that they are forgiven us, and so we count God a liar. For God saith, "Thou shalt have the inheritance of heaven for my Son's sake; thy sins are forgiven thee for my Son's sake:" and you say it is not so, "But I will win it through my works." Thus you see I condemn not good deeds, but I condemn the false trust in any works; for all the works wherein a man putteth any confidence, are therewith poisoned and become evil. Wherefore thou must do good works, but beware thou do them not to deserve any good through them; for if thou do, thou receivest the good not as the gift of God, but as a debt to thee, and makest thyself fellow with God, because thou wilt take nothing of him for nought. And what needeth he any thing of thine, which giveth all things, and is not the poorer? Therefore do nothing to him, but take of him, for he is a gentle Lord, and with a glad will giveth us all that we need, rather than we can deserve it of him. Press not therefore to the inheritance of heaven through presump- tion of thy good works; for if thou do, thou countest thyself holy and equal to God, because thou wilt take nothing of him for nought; and so shalt thou fall as Lucifer fell for his pride. The force of these truths, the firmness of the martyr's death, and the singular catastrophe of the Friar Campbell, made strong impressions on the people, and excit- ed them to examine the principles which wrought such surprising effects. And now that these points began to be enquired into, many received them. Seaton, a dominican, the king's confessor, preaching in Lent, described the nature of true repentance, and the means of it, without mixing the directions which the friars commonly gave on that subject: and when another friar shewed the defectiveness of what he had taught, he defend- ed himself in another sermon, and reflected on those bishops who did not preach, and called them dumbdogs. But the clergy would not meddle with him, till they found him in ill terms with the king: and the freedom he used in reproving him for his vices, quickly alienated royal favour from him, upon which they resolved to fall on him. However, he withdrew into England, and wrote to the king, taxing the clergy for their cruelty, and PAGE 391 praying him to restrain it. Henry Forest, a young man of Lithquow, soon appeared on the stage of reform. His first offence was in saying that Patrick Hamilton died a martyr, and that his articles were true: for which he was apprehended, and put in prison by James Beaton, archbishop of Saint Andrews. He shortly after caused a certain friar, named Walter Laing, to hear his confession. When Henry in secret confession had declared his conscience, that he thought Patrick to be a good man, and wrongfully put to death, and that his articles were true and not hereti- cal, the friar came and uttered to the bishop the confession he had heard, which before was not thoroughly known. The consequence was that his confession being brought as sufficient probation against him, he was summoned before the council of the clergy and doctors, there concluded to be a heretic, and decreed to be given to the secular judges to suffer death. When the day of his death came, and that he should first be degraded, he was brought before the clergy on a green between the castle of St. Andrews and a place called Monymaill. As soon as he entered in at the doors, and saw the faces of the clergy, perceiving whereunto they tended, he cried with a loud voice, "Fie on falsehood, fie on false friars, revealers of confession: after this day let no man trust any friars, contemners of God's word and deceivers of men." They then pro- ceeded to degrade him of his orders, and he said with a loud voice, "Take from me not only your own orders, but also your own baptism:" meaning thereby whatever is besides that which Christ himself institut- ed. Then after his degradation, they condemned him as a heretic equal with Patrick: and he suffered death for his faithful testimony of the truth of Christ and of his gospel, at the north church-stile of the abbey church of St. Andrews, a conspicuous spot selected to the intent that all the people might see the fire, and thus might be deterred from falling into the like doctrine, which they term by the name of heresy. Forest died with firmness; but he was not the last martyr of the age. Several others were brought into the bishops' courts, of whom the great- est part abjured; but two suffered death, imitating the constancy of their friends, and rejoicing in the love of Christ. Their names were Norman Gurly and David Stratton. Gurly had said that there was no such place as purgatory, and that the pope was not a christian bishop, but antichrist, and had no jurisdiction in Scotland. Stratton was a fisher- man; he also said there was no purgatory, that the passion of Christ was the only expiation for sin, and that the tribulations of this world were the only sufferings that the saints underwent. When the vicar asked him for his tithe-fish, Stratton cast them to him out of the boat, so that some fell into the sea; on which the other accused him as having said that no tythes should be paid. These two shrewd and firm men, though greatly solicited by the king, refused to recant, and were accordingly condemned by the bishop of Ross as heretics, and burned upon the green side between Leith and Edinburgh, with a view to strike terror into the surrounding country. Several others were accused, and would have suf- fered; but some fled to England, others to Germany, and all eventually escaped. PAGE 392 The changes made in England raised in all the people a curiosity of searching into matters of religion, which is always fatal to supersti- tion. Pope Clement the seventh wrote earnestly to the king of Scotland, to continue firm to the Catholic faith: upon which he called a parlia- ment, and made new laws for maintaining the pope's authority, and pro- ceeding against heretics. But the pope could not engage him to make war on England. King Henry sent Barlow, bishop of St. David's, to him with some books that were written in the defence of his proceedings, and desired him to examine them impartially. He also proposed an interview at York, and a match between him and lady Mary, the king's eldest daugh- ter; and promised that he should be made duke of York, and lord- lieutenant of the whole kingdom. Yet the clergy diverted him from this welcome prospect, and working on his fears, persuaded him to go in person to France and court Madelaine, daughter of the French king. He accordingly gratified their wishes, and married her in January 1537; but she died in May. This princess had been bred in the queen of Navarre's court, and was well disposed towards the reformation. Upon her death the king married Mary of Guise; she was a branch of the family of all Europe that was most zealously addicted to the old superstition; and her inter- est, joined with the influence of the clergy, engaged the king to become a violent persecutor of all who were of another mind. The king of Scotland was very expensive both in his pleasures and buildings, so that he came to want money more than ever. The nobility proposed to him seizing on the abbey-lands as his uncle had done. The clergy, on the other hand, advised him to proceed severely against all suspected of heresy; by which means, according to the lists they shewed him, he might raise 100,000 crowns a year. They also advised him to provide his children with abbeys and priories; and represented to him, that if he continued stedfast in the old religion, he would still have a great party in England, and might be made the head of a league which was then in project against the English king. This so far prevailed with him, that as he made four of his sons abbots and priors, so he gave way to the persecuting spirit of the clergy: upon which many reformers were cited to answer for heresy; some of these abjured, and some were ban- ished. A canon regular, a secular priest, two friars, and a gentleman were burnt. Forest, the canon regular, had been reproved by his ordi- nary, the bishop of Dunkall, for meddling with the Scriptures too much. The bishop told him he had lived long, and had never known what was in the Old or New Testament; but contented himself with his portoise and pontifical; and that Forest might come to repent it if he troubled himself with such fancies. The archbishop of Glasgow was a moderate man, and disliked cruel proceedings. Russel, a friar, and Kennedy, a young man of good family, were brought before him; they expressed wonderful joy, and a steady resolution in their sufferings. And after a long dispute between Russel and the archbishop's divines, Russel concluded, "This is your hour, and the power of darkness; go on, and fill up the measure of your iniquities." The archbishop was unwilling to give sentence; he said, he thought these executions did the church more hurt PAGE 393 than good. But those about him said that he must not take a different way from the rest of the bishops, and threatened him till he pronounced sentence. They were accordingly burned; but they gave such demonstra- tions of patience and joy, as made no small impression on all who saw or heard of their conduct. Among those who were in trouble was George Buchanan, who, at the king's instigation, had written a very sharp poem against the Franciscans, but was now abandoned by him. He made his escape, and lived twenty years in foreign parts, and at last returned to do his country honour; and what by his poems and by his history of Scotland he showed how great a master he was in the Roman tongue, and how true a judge he was, both in wit against church abuses, and in the knowledge of human affairs. King Henry, finding that his nephew did not come to meet him, stayed not long at York. He issued a proclamation inviting all that had been of late oppressed, to come to him and make their complaints, and he promised to repair them. This was done to cast the load of all past errors upon Cromwell. The king was greatly delight- ed by the charms of his new wife; so that on the first of November he gave public thanks to God for the happy choice he had made: but he had soon cause to change his tone and opinion; for the next day Cranmer came, and gave him an account of the queen's ill life, which one Lassels had revealed to him, as having learnt it from his sister. She had been very lewd before her marriage with two persons, one named Dierham and the other named Mannock. Cranmer, by the advice of the other privy- counsellors, put this in writing, and delivered it to Henry, not knowing how to open it in discourse. The king was struck with it, and was at first inclined to believe it a forgery; he, however, ordered a strict enquiry to be made into it, and quickly found proof enough; for the queen had so far cast off both modesty and the fear of discovery, that several women had been witnesses to her lewdness. It also appeared, that she intended to continue in that ill course; for she had brought Deirham into her service; and at Lincoln, by the lady Rochford's means, one Culpeper was brought to her in the night, and stayed many hours with her, and at his going away she gave him a gold chain. The queen, after a slight denial at first, did at last confess all. Deirham and Culpeper were executed, and a parliament was called upon it. At the first meet- ing a committee was sent to examine the queen: their report is recorded only in general terms, that she confessed; but no particulars are men- tioned. Upon this they passed an act in the form of a petition, in which they prayed the king, that the queen and her accomplices, with her bawd the lady Rochford, might be attainted of treason; and that all those who knew of the queen's vicious course before her marriage might be attaint- ed of misprision of treason for not revealing it to the king before he married her. Among these were her father and mother, and her grandmoth- er, the duchess of Norfolk. It was also declared treason to know any thing of the incontinence of any queen for the future, and not to reveal it. And it was made treason in any whom the king intended to marry judging they were maids, not to reveal it if they were not such. The queen and the lady Rochford were beheaded on the 14th of February. The PAGE 394 former confessed her incontinence before her marriage, but denied to the last that she had broken her marriage vow, though the lasciviousness of her former life easily inclined the world to believe the worst of her. All reflecting persons observed the judgment of God on the lady Roch- ford, who had been so instrumental in the ruin of Anne Boleyn and her own husband: and when she, to whose artifices their fall was in a great measure ascribed, was found to be so vile a woman, it removed every remaining doubt of their innocence. The attainting the unhappy queen's kindred and parents, for not discovering her former lewdness, was thought extreme severity; for it had been a hard piece of duty to the king for them to have discovered such a secret: hence though they lay some time in prison, the king, when his anger was abated, pardoned them. That other proviso, obliging a young woman to discover her own faulti- ness, if the king should make love to her, was thought a piece of grievous tyranny: so that it was not so much choice as necessity, that made him marry a widow two years after. Some hospitals were this year resigned to the king; but there was good ground to question the validity of the deeds, because by their statutes it was provided, that the cons- ent of all the fellows was necessary to make any deeds relating to them good in law: on this account those statutes were by a special act an- nulled, and this made way for the dissolution of many hospitals. The bishops sitting in convocation, took great pains to suppress the English Bible; but the king could not be prevailed on directly to call it in. They therefore complained much of the translation then set out; and pretended to procure a condemnation of it on the plea that they would set about a new one; in which it would be easy to put such delays that it should not be finished in many years. Gardiner also proposed a singu- lar conceit, namely, that many of the Latin words should be still re- tained in the English; for he thought they had either such a majesty, or so peculiar a signification, that they could not be fitly translated. He proposed an hundred of these, and it seems hoped that if this could be carried, the translation would be so full of Latin words, that the people could not at last understand it. Cranmer, perceiving that the Bible was the great annoyance to the papal party, and that they were resolved to suppress it by all the means they could think of, procured an order from the king, referring the correction of the translation to the two universities. The bishops took this very ill, and all of them, except those of Ely and St. David's, protested against it. In the former times there had been few or no sermons, except in Lent; for on holy days the sermons were panegyrics on the saints, and on the virtue of their relics. But in Lent there was a more solemn way of preaching; and the friars maintained their credit much by the pathetic sermons they preached at that season, and by which they wrought much on the feelings of the people; yet these for the most part tended to extol some of the laws of the church, as fasting, confession, and other austerities, with undertaking pilgrimages; but they were careful to acquaint the people as little as possible with the true simplicity of Christianity, and they seemed designed rather to raise a sudden heat, than to work a real PAGE 395 change in their auditors. They also mixed so much of legends with their sermons, that the people came to disbelieve all that they said for the sake of those fabulous things, with which every discourse was debased. The reformers, on the other hand, took pains to instruct their hearers in the fundamentals of religion, of which they had known little former- ly: this made the nation follow the new teachers with a wonderful zeal: but some of these mixed more sharpness against the friars in their sermons than perhaps became their profression, although the hypocrisy of the latter did in a great measure excuse those heats. It was observed that our Saviour had exposed the Pharisees in so plain a manner, that it justified resentment for the cruelties which they or their friends had suffered by treating them in return with roughness; it is not, however, to be denied but that such measures might have too much influence on them. This made it necessary to suffer none to preach, at least out of their own parishes, without licence, and many were licensed to preach as itinerants. There was also published a book of homilies on all the epistles and gospels in the year, which contained a plain paraphrase of those parts of scripture, together with some practical exhortations founded on them. Many complaints were made of those who were licensed to preach, and that they might be able to justify themselves, they began generally to write and read their sermons; and thus commenced a practice more discouraging to the advance of a zealous piety than can easily be found among the lawful customs of the English church. Plays and inter- ludes were a great abuse in that time; in them mock representations were made both of the clergy and of the pageantry of their worship. The clergy complained much of these as an introduction to atheism, when things sacred were thus burlesqued and laughed at. They said that such as began to laugh at abuses, would not cease till they had represented all the mysteries of religion as ridiculous: the more enlightened re- formers also condemned it, and judged it an improper method of treating the subject. In 1543, a bill was proposed by Cranmer for the advance- ment of true religion, for the spirits of the popish party were much fallen ever since the last queen's death; yet at this time a treaty was set on foot between the king and the emperor, which raised them a lit- tle: for the king being likely to engage in a war with France, it was necessary for him to make the emperor his friend. Cranmer's motion was PAGE 396 much opposed, and the timorous bishops, who at first joined him, forsook him; yet he proceeded with it as far as it would go, though in most points things went against him. By it Tindal's translation of the Bible was condemned as crafty and false, and also all other books contrary to the doctrine set forth by the bishops. But bibles of another translation were still allowed to be kept, only all prefaces or annotations that might be in them were to be erased. The king's injunctions were con- firmed: no books of religion were to be printed without licence; there was to be no exposition of scripture in plays or interludes; none of the laity might read the scripture, or explain it in any public assembly: but a proviso was made for public speeches, which then began generally with a text of scripture, and were like modern sermons. Noblemen, gen- tlemen, and their wives, or merchants, might have bibles; but no ordi- nary woman, tradesman, apprentice, or husbandman, was allowed to retain any: every person might have the book set out by the bishops, the psalt- er, and other rudiments of religion, in English. All churchmen who preached contrary to that book, for the first offence were only required to recant; for the second to abjure and carry a fagot; but for the third they were to be burnt. The laity, for the third offence, were only to forfeit their goods and chattels, and to be liable to perpetual impris- onment; but they were to be procceded against within a year. The parties accused were not allowed witnesses for their defence. The act of the six articles was confirmed, and it was left free to the king to change this act or any proviso in it. There was also a new act passed, giving au- thority to the king's proclamations, and any nine privy-counsellors were empowered to proceed against offenders. To this the lord Mountjoy dis- sented, and it is the only instance of protestation against any of the public acts which passed in this reign. The act being put entirely in the king's power, he had now the reformers at his mercy; for he could bind up the act, to execute it as he pleased; and he affected much to have his people depend entirely upon him. The league offensive and defensive for England and Calais, and for the Netherlands, was sworn to by the king and the emperor: and assurances were given, that though the king would not declare lady Mary legitimate, upon which the emperor insisted much, yet she should be put in the succession to the crown next to prince Edward. The emperor was glad thus to engage the kings of England and France in a war, by which the Germans being left without support, enabled him to carry on his great design of making himself master of Germany. The war with France, accordingly, began the same year, and one of the reasons which Henry assigned for it was, that Francis had failed in the matter of shaking off the pope's authority, and advancing a reformation, in which he had promised to second him. In the same year the king espoused Catherine Parr, widow to Nevill, lord Latimer. This lady secretly favoured the reformation, but could not divert a storm which fell on a family at Windsor. This family consisted of the following persons, whose shameful persecution it will be proper to examine at some length: Robert Testwood, Henry Filmer, Anthony Pear- son, John Marbeck, Robert Benet, Sir Philip Hobby and his wife, Sir Thomas Cardine and his wife, Edmund Harman, Thomas Weldon, William PAGE 397 Snowball and his wife of the king's chamber, and Dr. Haynes, dean of Exeter. The commencemente of this persecution was thus: Robert Testwood dwelling the city of London, had by his knowledge in music attained so great a name that the musicians in Windsor college thought him worthy to have a place among them; whereupon they informed doctor Sampson, then their dean, of him and their purpose. But as some of the canons had heard of Testwood that he smelled of the new learning, as they called it, they would not consent to it at first. Notwithstanding, with the earnest suit of the musicians made to one doctor Tate, a place being void, Testwood was sent for to be heard. Being there four or five days among the choir-men, he was so well liked, both for his voice and skill, that he was admitted and settled in Windsor with his household, and held in estimation with the dean and canons a great while; but when they perceived him by his talk at their tables (for he could not well dissem- ble his religion) that he leaned to Luther's sect, they began to dislike him. It was his chance one day to be at dinner with one of the canons, named doctor Rawson, at which was one of king Edward's four chantry priests, named Ely, an old bachelor of divinity. Mr. Ely, in his talk at the board, began to rail against laymen who took upon them to meddle with the scriptures, and to be better learned, knowing only the English tongue, than they who had been students in the universities of Oxford and Cambridge. Testwood, perceiving he meant that for him, could bear his railing no longer, and said, "Mr. Ely, by your patience, I think it be no hurt for layman as I am to read and to know the scriptures." "Which of you," quoth Ely, "that be unlearned, knoweth them or under- standeth them? St. Paul saith, 'If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink; and in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire upon his head.' Now, sir," quoth Ely, "what meaneth St. Paul by those coals of fire?" "Marry, sir," quoth Testwood, "he meaneth nothing else by them, as I have learned, but burning charity, that by doing good to our enemies we should thereby win them." "Ah, sirrah," quoth he, "you are an old scholar indeed!" Then they began disputing about the pope, whose supremacy was much spoken of at that time, but not known to be so far in question in parliament as it was. In their talk Ely demanded of Testwood, whether the pope ought to be the head of their church or no; against which Testwood durst not say his full mind, but reasoned a great while. When they were both well stricken in a heat, Testwood, forgetting himself, chanced to say, "Every king, in his own realm and dominion, ought to be the head of the church under Christ." At these words Ely was so chafed, that he rose up from the table in a great fume, calling Testwood a heretic, and so went brawling and chiding away, to the great disquiet of all the company that were there. Testwood was sorry to see the old man act such a part, and after dinner he went and sought him, and found him walking in the body of the church, thinking to have talked with him charitably; but as Testwood pressed towards him, the other shunned him, and would not come nigh him; saying to others that walked PAGE 398 by, "Beware of this fellow, for he is the greatest heretic and schismat- ic than ever came into Windsor." Now began the matter to brew. When Ely had made his complaint to the dean's deputy and other of the canons, they were all against Testwood, purposing at the dean's coming home to accuse him; but it was not twelve days ere the king's supremacy passed in the parliament-house. Whereupon the dean, Dr. Sampson, came home suddenly in the night late, and sent his verger about to all the canons and ministers of the college, from the highest to the lowest, commanding them to be in the Chapter-house by eight o'clock in the morning. Then Ely consulted with the canons overnight, and thought on the next day to have put Testwood to great distress. "But he that layeth a snare for another man shall be taken in it himself." Thus it was with Ely: for when the dean and other officials were in the Chapter-house, and the dean had commended the ministers of the church for their diligence in attending the choir, exhorting them also to continue in the same; he began, contrary to every man's expection, to inveigh against the bishop of Rome's supremacy and authority, confounding the same by manifest scriptures and probable reasons so earnestly, that it was a wonder to hear him; and at length declared openly, that by the unamious consent of parliament, the pope's supremacy was utterly abolished out of this realm of England for ever; and so commanded every man there, upon his alle- giance, to call him pope no more, but bishop of Rome, and whosoever he was that would not so do, or did from that day forth maintain or favour his cause by any means, he should not only lose the benefit of that house, but be reputed as an utter enemy to God and to the king. The canons on hearing this were all thunder-struck. Ely's heart was ready to burst, and he began to belch forth his fury against Testwood; but the dean, breaking his tale, called him an old fool, and took him up so sharply, that he was obliged to hold his peace. Then the dean commanded all the pope's pardons which hung about the church to be brought into the chapter-house, and burnt before all their faces. As Testwood one day walked in the church and beheld the pilgrims, especially of Devonshire and Cornwall, come in with candles and images of wax in their hands, to offer to good king Henry of Windsor as they called him, it pitied his heart to see such great idolatry committed and how vainly the people spent their goods in coming so far to kiss a spur, and to have an old hat set upon their heads. He was so ardent that he could not refrain, seeing a certain company which had done their offering stand gazing about the church, went to them, and began to exhort them to leave such false worshipping of dumb creatures, and to learn to worship the true living God, putting them in remembrance what those things were which they worshipped, and how God many times had plagued his people for running to such stocks and stones, and so would plague them and their posterity, if they would not keep themselves from idols. He admonished them so long, till at last his words affected some of them, that they said they never would go a pilgrimage more. Then he went further, and found another kissing a white lady made of alabaster, which was in a wall behind the high altar and adorned with a fringe made like branches PAGE 399 with hanging apples and flowers. On seeing several so superstitiously use the image, as to wipe their hands upon it, and then to stroke them over their heads and faces, as though there had been great virtue in touching the picture, he lifted up his hand, in the which he had a key, and smote a peice of the border about the image, and with a slight inadvertent stroke chanced to break off the idol's nose. "Lo, good people," quoth he, "you see what it is, nothing but earth and cannot help itself; and how then will you have it to help you? For God's sake, brethren, be no more deceived." And as he went home to his house the rumour was so great, that many came to see the image as it was defaced; and among others one William Simons, a lawyer, who seeing the image to lack its nose, took the matter grievously, and looking down upon the pavement, he spied the broken fragment, which he took up and put in his purse, saying it should be a dear nose to the infidel Testwood. Many were offended with Testwood: the canons for his speaking against their profit, the wax merchants for hindering their market, and Simons for an art which threatened to deprive him of certain fees and gains. There were of the canons men that threatened to kill him: whereupon Testwood kept his house, and durst not come forth, but sent the whole matter in writing by his wife to Cromwell, the king's secretary, who was his special friend. The canons hearing that Testwood would send to Cromwell, sent the verger unto him, to induce him to come to the church; but he sent them word again that he was in fear of his life, and therefore would not come. Then they sent two of the elder minor canons to entreat him, and to assure him that no man should do him harm. He made them a plain answer, that he had no trust in their promises, but would complain to his friends. Then not knowing what shift to make, for of all men they feared Cromwell, they sent post haste for an old gentleman named Ward, a justice of peace, dwelling three or four miles off, who on hearing the matter was loath to meddle in it. But through their entreaty he went to Testwood, and had much ado to persuade him; but at last he did faithful- ly promise him, by the oath he had made to God and the king, to defend him from all danger and harm, and Testwood was content to go with him. When they were come into the church, and were going toward the Chapter- House, where the canons abode their coming, one of the men drew his dagger at Testwood, and would have killed him; but Ward with his man resisted, and got Testwood into the Chapter-house, causing the assassin to be called in and sharply rebuked. Testwood, being alone in the Chapter-House with the canons and Ward, was gently treated, and the matter so pacified that Testwood might quietly come and go to the church, and do his duty as he had done before. Upon a relic Sunday, when every minister after their custom should have borne a relic in a procession, one was brought to Testwood, which as they said, was a rochet of bishop Becket's. But as the sexton would have put the rochet in Testwood's hands, he pushed it from him, saying, if he did give it to him, he would use it for an unclean purpose; and so the rochet was given to another. This is one among several instances of the rash and indecent conduct of the zealous protestants of that age. They might doubtless often have escaped annoyance and suffering had they adopted a gentler and more prudent course. The taste of the times, however, and the irri- tating provocation they received, offer considerable apology for their ebullitions of displeasure and impropriety. In the days of Mr. Franklin, who succeeded Dr. Sampson in the deanery of Windsor, there was set up at the choir door a certain foolish printed paper in rhyme to the praise and commendation of our lady, ascribing unto her our justification, our salvation, our redemption, the forgiveness of sins, to the great deroga- tion of Christ: this paper one of the canons, named Magnus, caused to be set up in despite of Testwood and his sect. When Testwood saw the paper, he plucked it down secretly. The next day another was set up in the same place. Then Testwood coming into the church, and seeing another paper set up, and also the dean coming a little way off, made haste to be at the choir door, while the dean stayed to take holy water; then reaching up his hand as he went he plucked away the paper with him. The dean being come to his stall called Testwood to him, and said, that he mar- velled greatly how he durst be so bold to take down the paper in his presence; Testwood answered again, that he marvelled much more that his reverence would suffer such a blasphemous paper to be set up, beseeching him not to be offended with what he had done, for he would stand to it. After this were no more papers set up, but poor Testwood was reviled as a heretic deserving of death. Such were the principal causes which moved Testwood's enemies to seek his destruction; but they could not attain their purpose, till that wicked Haman Dr. Loudon came into office at Windsor as one of the prebendaries. ANTHONY PEARSON frequently went to Windsor, about the year of our Lord 1540, and using the talent that God had given him in preaching, was greatly esteemed among the people, who flocked so much to his sermons both in town and country, that the great priests of the castle, with other papists in the town, especially Si- mons, were sore offended: insomuch, that Simons at the last began to take down his sermons, and to mark his auditors; whereof ensued the death of many honest men. About a year and more after Dr. Loudon, warden of the New College in Oxford, was admitted one of the prebendaries of Windsor, who, at his first coming to Windsor, began to betray his bitter aversion to the friends of the Lutheran doctrine. At his first residence dinner which he made to the clerks, who for the most part at that time favoured the gospel, all his whole talk to two gentlemen, strangers at his board, was nothing else but of heretics, and what a desolation they would bring the realm to, if they were to be suffered. "And by St. Mary, masters," quoth he to the clerks at last, "I cannot tell, but there goeth a shrewd report abroad of this house." Some made answer, it was undeserved. "I pray God it be. I am but a stranger, and have but small experience amongst you; but I have heard it said before I came hither, that there be some in this house that will neither have prayer nor fasting." Then Testwood could not refrain, but said, "By my troth, sir, I think that was spoken in malice: for prayer, as you know better than I, is one of the first lessons that Christ taught us." "Yea sir," quoth he, "but the heretics will have no invocation to saints, which all the old fathers do allow." "What the old fathers do allow," quoth Testwood, PAGE 401 I cannot tell; but scripture doth appoint us to go to the Father, and to ask our petitions of him in Christ's name." "Then you will have no mean between you and God," quoth the doctor. "Yes, sir," quoth Testwood, "our mean is Christ, as St. Paul saith, 'There is one mediator between God and man, even Jesus Christ." "Give us water," quoth the enraged doctor, as though he were rendered impure by heretical company. Water being set on the board, he said grace and washed, and so falling into other commu- nication with the stranger, the clerks took their leave and departed. When this new and haughty prebendary had been at Windsor awhile among his catholic brethren, and learned what Testwood was, and also of Simons what a sort of heretics were in the town and about the same, and how they increased daily by reason of a priest called Anthony Pearson, he was so maliciously set against them, that he appeared almost infernally bent on doing them injury. To bring his wicked purpose about he con- spired with Simons, a meet clerk to serve such a curate, how they might compass the matter, first to have all the arch-heretics, as they termed them, in Windsor and thereabout indicted, and if possible punished and destroyed. They had good ground to work upon, as they thought, which was the six articles, on which foundation they began to build. First, they drew out certain notes of Anthony Pearson's sermons, which he had preached against the sacrament of the altar, and their popish mass. That done, they accused Sir William Hobby with his wife, Sir Thomas Cardine, Mr. Edmund Harman, Mr. Thomas Weldon, with one Snowball and his wife, as chief aiders and maintainers of Anthony Pearson. Also they noted Dr. Haynes, dean of Exeter, and a prebendary of Windsor, to be a common receiver of all suspected persons. They wrote the names of all such as commonly attended Anthony Pearson's sermons, and of all such as had the Testament and favoured the gospel. They employed spies to walk up and down the church, to hear what men said, and to mark who did not rever- ence the sacrament at the elevation time, and to bring the name of every offender. Of these spies some were chantry priests: among which there was one notable spy, Sir William Bows, a fleering priest, as would be in every corner of the church pattering to himself, with his portoise in his hand, to hear and note the gesture of men towards the sacrament. Thus, when they had gathered as much as they could, and made a perfect book thereof, Loudon, with two of his catholic brethren, gave them to the bishop of Winchester, Stephen Gardiner, with a great complaint against the heretics that were in Windsor, declaring the town was dis- quieted through their doctrine and evil example, and beseeching his lordship's help, in purging both town and castle of such wicked persons. The bishop hearing their complaint and seeing their book, praised their doings, and bade them make friends and go forward, and they should not want his help. Then they applied to the matter seriously, sparing no money nor pains, as Marbeck says that he heard one of them say, who was afterwards sorry for what he had done, that it cost him that year, for his part only, an hundred marks, besides the death of three good horses. Bishop Gardiner now brought Wriothsley and other of the council on his PAGE 402 side, and went to the king, complaining what sort of heretics he had in his realm, and how they not only crept into every corner of his court, but even into his privy chamber, beseeching his majesty that his laws might be executed. The king, giving credit to the council's words, was content his laws should be executed on such as were offenders. Then had the bishop what he desired, and forthwith procured a commission for private search to be made in Windsor for books and letters that Anthony Pearson intended to send abroad: this commission the king granted to take place in the town of Windsor, but not in the castle. About the same time the canons of Exeter, especially Suthran, treasurer of the church, and Brurewood the chancellor, had accused Dr. Haynes, their dean, to the council, for preaching against holy bread and water, and that he had said in one of his sermons that marriage and hanging were destiny; upon which they imputed treason to him, because of the king's marriage. The bishop of Winchester had also informed the council of Sir W. Hobby, how he was a supporter of Anthony Pearson, and a great main- taner of heretics: whereupon both he and Dr. Haynes were apprehended and sent to the Fleet. But not very long after, by the mediation of friends, they were both released; it was supposed by the king's command, because marriage was too tender a subject for him to allow to be discussed. As to the commission for searching for books, Ward and Fachel of Reading were appointed commissioners, and came to Windsor the Thursday before Palm-Sunday, in the year 1543, and began their search about eleven o'clock at night. There were then apprehended Robert Benet, Henry Film- er, John Marbeck, and Robert Testwood, for certain books and writings found in their houses against the six articles: they were kept till Monday after, and then fetched up to the council, excepting Testwood, with whom the bailiffs of of the town were charged, because he lay diseased of the gout. The other three, being examined before the coun- cil, were committed to prison; Filmer and Benet to the bishop of Lon- don's gaol, and Marbeck to the Marshalsea. His examination we shall here give, to the great goodness of the council, and the cruelty of the bishop. We are of opinion, and are convinced that our readers will coincide with us, that it would deteriorate the importance of these arguments, were we strictly to modernize the style in which they were delivered: we have therefore, only changed such expressions as, being now obsolete, would not be understood by the general reader; and the speeches, in consequence, remain nearly as they were uttered by the Christians and their accusers. Marbeck had begun a great work in English, called the Concordance of the Bible; which not being half finished, was among his other books taken in the search, and given up to the council. When he came into their presence to be examined, the whole work lay before the bishop of Winchester, Stephen Gardiner, at the upper end of the board. Looking steadfastly at the poor man awhile the bishop said, "Marbeck, dost thou know wherefore thou art sent for?" "No my lord," quoth he. "No!" quoth the bishop; "that is a marvellous thing." "Forsooth my lord," quoth he, "unless it be for a certain search made of late in Windsor, I cannot tell wherefore it should be." "Then thou knowest the matter well enough," quoth the bishop; and taking up a quire PAGE 403 of the concordance in his hand said, "Understandeth thou the Latin tongue?" "No, my lord," quoth he, "but simply." "No!" quoth the bishop. And with that spake Mr. Wriothsley, then secretary to the king, "He saith but simply." "I cannot tell," quoth the bishop, "but the book is translated word for word out of the Latin Concordance," and so began to declare to the rest of the council the nature of a Concordance, and how it was first compiled in Latin by the great diligence of the learned men for the ease of preachers; concluding with this reason, that if such a book should go forth in English, it would destroy the Latin tongue. Then casting down the quire, he reached another book, the book of Isaiah the prophet, and turning to the last chapter, gave the book to Marbeck, and asked him who had written the note in the margin. Marbeck looking upon it, said, "Forsooth, my lord, I wrote it." "Read it," quoth the bishop. Then he read it thus: "Heaven is my seat, and the earth is my foot- stool." "Nay," quoth the bishop, "read it as thou hast written it." "Then shall I read it wrong," quoth he, "for I had written it false." "How hadst thou written it?" quoth the bishop. "I had written it," quoth he, "Heaven is my seat, and the earth is not my foot-stool." "Yea," quoth the bishop, "that was thy meaning." "No my lord," quoth he, "it was but an oversight in writing; for, as your lordship seeth, this negative is blotted out." At this time came other matters into the council, so that Marbeck was sent out to the next chamber. When he had stayed there awhile, one of the council, named Sir Anthony Wingfield, captain of the guard, came forth, and calling for Marbeck, committed him to one Belson of the guard, saying to him, "Take this man and have him to the Marshalsea, and tell the keeper that it is the council's pleasure that he should be treated gently, and if he have any money in his purse, as I think he hath not much, take it from him, lest the prisoners take it, and minister it to him as he shall have need." The messenger depart- ed with Marbeck to the Marshalsea, and did his commission faithfully. The hope of the prisoner that he should soon be released was revived by the result of this examination. However on the next day, at eight o'clock in the morning, there came one of the bishop of Winchester's gentlemen into the Marshalsea, whose man brought after him two great books under his arm, and finding Marbeck walking up and down in the chapel, demanded of the keeper why he was not in irons. "I had no such command," quoth he, "for the messenger who brought him yesternight from the council, said it was their pleasure he should be gently used." "My lord," quoth the gentleman, whose name was Knight, "will not be content with you;" and so taking the book of his man, he called for a chamber, to which he commanded the prisoner, and casting the books from him upon a bed, sat down and said, "Marbeck, my lord doth favour thee well for certain good qualities that thou hast, and hath sent me hither to admon- ish thee to beware, lest thou cast away thyself wilfully. If thou wilt be plain, thou shalt do thyself much good; if not, thou shalt do thyself much harm. I assure thee, my lord laments thy case, for as much as he hath always heard good report of thee; wherefore now see to thyself, and play the wise man. Thou art acquainted with great heretics, as Hobby and PAGE 404 Haynes, and with many others beside, and knowest much of their secrets; if thou wilt open them at my lord's request, he will procure thy deliv- erance out of hand, and prefer thee to a better living." "Alas, Sir," quoth he, "what secrets do I know? I am but a poor man, and was never worthy to be so conversant either with Mr. Hobby or Mr. Haynes, as to know any part of their minds." "Well," quoth the gentleman, "make it not so strange, for my lord doth know well enough in what estimation they held both thee and Anthony Pearson, for your religion." "For Anthony Pearson," quoth he, "I can say nothing, for I never saw him with them in all my life; and as for myself, I cannot deny but that they have always, I thank them, taken me for an honest man, and shewed me much kindness; but as for their secrets, they were too wise to commit them to any such as I am." "Perhaps," quoth the gentleman, "thou fearest to utter any thing of them, because they were thy friends, lest hearing thereof they might hereafter withdraw their friendship from thee: which thou needest not to fear, I warrant thee, for they are safe enough, and never likely to pleasure thee any more, or any man else. With that the water stood in Marbeck's eyes. "Why weepest thou?" quoth the gentleman. "Oh Sir," quoth he, "I pray you pardon me; these men have done me good, wherefore I beseech the living God to comfort them as I would be comforted myself." "Well," quoth the gentleman, "I perceive thou wilt play the fool;" and then he opened one of the books and asked him, if he under- stood any Latin? "But a little, sir," quoth he. "How is it then," quoth the gentleman, "that thou hast translated thy book out of the Latin Concordance, and yet understandest not the tongue?" "I will tell you," quoth he: "in my youth I learned the principles of my grammar, whereby I have some understanding therein, though it be very small." Then the gentleman began to try him in the Latin Concordance and English Bible which he had brought; and when he had so done, and was satisfied, he called up his man to fetch away the book, and so departed, leaving Marbeck alone in the chamber, the door fast shut upon him. About two hours after, the gentleman came again, with a sheet of paper folded in his hand, and sat down upon the bedside, and said, "By my troth, Mar- beck, my lord seeth so much willfulness in thee, that he saith it is pity to do thee good. When was thou last with Haynes?" "About three weeks ago," said he, "I was at dinner with him." "And what talk," quoth the gentleman, "had he at his board?" "I cannot tell now," quoth he. "No!" said the gentleman, "thou art not so dull witted, to forget a thing in so short a space." "Yes, sir," quoth he, "such familiar talk as men use at their tables, is most commonly by the next day forgotten, and so it was with me." "Didst thou never," quoth the gentleman, "talk with him, nor with any of thy fellows, of the mass, or of the blessed sacra- ment?" "No," answered Marbeck, firmly. "Now forsooth," quoth the gentle- man, "thou hest; for thou hast been seen to walk with Testwood, and other of thy fellows, an hour together in the church, when honest men have walked up and down beside you, and as they have drawn near you, ye have stopped your talk till they have passed you, because they should not hear whereof you talked." "I deny not," quoth he, "but I have talked PAGE 405 with Testwood and other of my fellows, I cannot tell how often, which makes not that we talked either of the mass, or of the sacrament: for men may commune and talk of many matters, that they would not wish every man should hear, and yet far from any such thing; therefore it is good to judge the best." "Well," quoth the gentleman, "thou must be plainer with my lord than this, or else it will be wrong with thee, and that sooner than thou weenest." "How plain will his lordship have me to be, Sir?" quoth he. "There is nothing that I can do or say with a safe conscience, but I am ready to do it at his lordship's pleasure." "What tellest thou me," quoth the gentleman, "of thy conscience? Thou mayst with a safe conscience tell of those that be heretics, and so doing thou canst do God and the king no greater service." "If I knew, sir," quoth he, "who was a heretic indeed, it were another thing; but if I should accuse him to be a heretic that is none, what a worm would that be in my conscience so long as I lived? yea it were a great deal better for me to be out of this life, than to live in such torment." "In faith," quoth the gentleman, "thou knowest as well who are heretics of thy fellows at home, and who are not, as I know this paper to be in my hand: but it is no matter, for they shall all be sent for and examined: and thinkest thou that they will not utter and tell of thee all that they can? Yes, I warrant thee. And what a foolish dolt art thou, that wilt not utter aforehand what they are, seeing it standeth upon thy deliverance to tell the truth?" "Whatsoever," quoth he, "they shall say of me, let them do it in the name of God, for I will say no more of them, nor of any man else, than I know." "Well," quoth the gentleman, "if thou wilt so do, my lord requireth no more. And forasmuch as now thy wits are troubled, so that thou canst not call things to thy remembrance, I have brought the ink and paper, that thou mayest write such things as shall come to thy mind." "O God!" quoth Marbeck, "what will my lord do? Will his lordship compel me to accuse men I know not whereof?" "No," quoth the gentleman, "my lord compelleth thee not, but gently intreateth thee to tell the truth; therefore make no more ado, but write, for my lord will have it so." So he laid down the ink and paper, and went his way. Marbeck was now so full of sorrow, that he knew not what to do, nor how to set the pen to the book to satisfy the bishop's mind, unless he accused men, to the wounding of his own soul. And thus being compassed with nothing but sorrow and care, he cried out to God in his heart, falling down weeping, and said--"O most merciful Father of heaven, thou that knowest the secret doings of all men, have mercy upon thy poor prisoner who is destitute of all help and comfort. Assist me, O Lord, with thy special grace, for to save this frail and vile body which shall turn to corrup- tion at his time, I have no power to say or to write any thing that may be to the casting away of my christian brother; but rather, O Lord, let this vile flesh suffer at thy will and pleasure. Grant this, O most merciful Father, for thy dear Son Jesus Christ's sake." Then he rose up and began to search his conscience what he might write, and at last framed out these words: "Whereas your lordship will have me to write such things as I know of my fellows at home; pleased it your lordship to PAGE 406 understand, that I cannot call to remembrance any manner of thing where- by I might justly accuse any one of them unless it be the reading of the New Testament, which is common to all men; more than this I know not." The gentleman came again, and found Marbeck walking up and down the chamber. "How now," quoth he, "hast thou written nothing?" "Yes, Sir," quoth he, "as much as I know." "Well said," quoth the gentleman; and took up the paper. But when he had looked over it, he cast it from him in a great fume, swearing by our Lord's body, that he would not for twenty pounds carry it to his lord and master. "Therefore," quoth he, "go to it again, and advise thyself better, or else thou wilt set my lord against thee, and then art thou utterly undone." "By my troth, sir," quoth Marbeck, "if his lordship shall keep me here these seven years I can say no more than I have said." "Then wilt thou repent it," quoth the gentleman; and so putting up his pen and inkhorn, departed with the paper in his hand. The next and third examination of this excellent man was by Gardiner himself, who seemed impatient of the result, and fearful to trust any more to his deputy. The next day, by eight o'clock in the morning, the bishop sent for Marbeck to his house at St. Mary Overy's, and as he was entering into the hall, he saw the bishop himself coming out at a door in the upper end thereof, with a roll in his hand, and going toward the great window, who called to him and said, "Marbeck, wilt thou cast away thyself?" "No, my lord," quoth he, "I trust." "Yes," quoth the bishop, "thou goest about it, for thou wilt utter nothing. What the devil made thee meddle with the scriptures? Thy vocation was another way, wherein thou hast a goodly gift, if thou didst esteem it." "Yes, my lord," quoth he, "I do esteem it, and have done my part therein, according to the little knowledge that God hath given me." "And why the devil," quoth the bishop, "didst thou not hold thee there?" And with that he went away from the window out of the hall, the poor man following him from place to place, till he had brought him into a long gallery, and being there, the bishop began on this wise: "Ah, sirrah, the nest of you is broken, I trow." And unfolding his roll, which was about an ell long, he said, "Behold, here be your captains, both Hobby and Haynes, with all the whole pack of thy sect about Wind- sor, and yet thou wilt accuse none of them." "Alas, my lord," quoth he, "how should I accuse them, of whom I know nothing?" "Well," quoth the bishop, "if thou wilt needs cast away thyself, who can help thee? what helpers hadst thou in setting forth thy book?" "Forsooth, my lord," quoth he, "none." "None!" quoth the bishop, "how can that be? It is not possible that thou shouldst do it without help." "Truly, my lord," quoth he, "I cannot tell in what part your lordship doth take it, but howsoev- er it be, I will not deny but I did it without the help of any one save PAGE 407 God alone." "Nay," quoth the bishop, "I do not discommend thy diligence, but why shouldst thou meddle with that thing which pertaineth not to thee?" On speaking these words, one of his chaplains, called Mr. Medow, came up, and stopped at a window, to whom the bishop said, "Here is a marvellous thing: this fellow hath taken upon him to set out the Concor- dance in English, which book when it was set out in Latin, was not done without the help and diligence of a dozen learned men at the least, and yet will he insist that he hath done it alone. But say what thou wilt," quoth the bishop, "except God himself would come down from heaven, and tell me so, I will not believe it:" and so going forth to a window where two great bibles lay upon a cushion, the one in Latin and the other in English, he called Marbeck unto him, and pointing his finger to a place in the Latin bible, said, "Canst thou English this sentence?" "Nay, my lord," quoth he, "I trow I be not so clever to give it perfect English, but I can make out the English thereof in an English bible." "Let us see," quoth the bishop. Then Marbeck turning the English bible, found out the place, and read it to the bishop. So he tried him three or four times, till one of his men came up and told him the priest was ready to go to mass. As the bishop was going, the gentleman who had examined Marbeck in the Marshalsea the day before, said, "Shall this fellow write nothing while your lordship is at mass?" "It is no matter," quoth the bishop, "For he will tell nothing;" and so went down to hear mass, leaving Marbeck alone in the gallery. The bishop was no sooner down, but the gentleman came up again with ink and paper. "Come, sir," quoth he, "my lord will have you occupied till mass be done;" persuading him with fair words that he would soon be dispatched out of trouble, if he would use truth and plainness. "Alas, sir," quoth he, "what would my lord have me to do? For more than I wrote to his lordship yesterday, I cannot." "Well, well, go to," quoth the gentleman, "and make speed," and so went his way. There was no remedy, but Marbeck must now write something; wherefore he, calling to God again in his mind, wrote a few words, as near as he could frame them, to those he had written the day before. When the bishop was come from mass, and had looked on the writing, he pushed it from him, saying, "What will this do? It hath neither head nor foot. There is a marvellous sect of them," quoth the bishop to his men, "for the devil cannot make one of them betray another." Then was there nothing among the bishop's gentlemen, as they were making him ready to go to the court, but erucifige upon the poor man. And when the bishop's white rochet was on him--"Well, Marbeck," quoth he, "I am now going to the court, and intended, if I had found thee tractable, to have spoken to the king's majesty for thee, and to have given thee thy meat, drink, and lodging here in mine house; but seeing thou art so wilful and so stubborn, thou shalt go to the devil for me." Then was he carried down by the bishop's men, with many railing words. And coming through the PAGE 408 great chamber there stood Dr. Loudon, with two more of his fellows, waiting the bishop's coming by them into the hall; he was there received by his keeper, and carried to prison again. In half an hour after, the bishop sent one of his gentlemen to the under keeper, called Stokes, commanding him to put irons upon Marbeck, and to keep him fast shut in a chamber alone, and when he should bring him down to dinner or supper, to see that he spake to no man, and no man to him. Further, that he should suffer no manner of person, not even his own wife, to come and see him, or give any thing to him. When the porter, who was the cruellest man that could be to all such as were imprisoned for any matter of religion, and yet providentially favourable to Marbeck, had received this command from the bishop, he put irons upon him, and shut him up, giving warning to all the house, that no man should speak or talk to Marbeck, whensoev- er he was brought down; and so he continued the space of three weeks or more, during which time, however, his wife was suffered to visit him once or twice at least. About three weeks before Whit Sunday, Marbeck was sent for to the bishop of London's house, where sat in commission Dr. Capon, bishop of Salisbury; Dr. Skip, bishop of Hereford; Dr. Good- rick, bishop of Ely; Dr. Oking, Dr. May, and the bishop of London's clerk, having before them all Marbeck's books. Then said the bishop of Salisbury, "We are here in commission from the king, to examine thee of certain things whereof thou must be sworn to answer us faithfully and truly." "I am content, my lord," quoth he, "to tell you the truth so far as I can," and so took his oath. Then the bishop of Salisbury laid before him his three books of notes, demanding whose hand writing they were. He answered they were his own, and notes which he had gathered out of other men's works six years ago. "For what cause," quoth the bishop of Salisbury, "didst thou gather them?" "For no other cause, my lord, but to come to knowledge. For I being unlearned, and desirous to under- stand some part of Scripture, thought by reading learned men's words, to come the sooner thereby; and where I found any place of scripture opened and expounded by them, that I noted, as ye see, with a letter of his name in the margin, that had set out the work." "So methinks," quoth the bishop of Ely, who had one of the books in his hand all the time of their sitting, "thou hast read all sorts of books, both good and bad, as seemeth by the notes." "So I have, my lord," quoth he. "And to what purpose?" quoth the bishop of Salisbury. "By my troth," quoth he, "for no other purpose but to see every man's mind." Then the bishop of Salis- bury drew out a quire of the Concordance, and laid it before the bishop of Hereford, who looking upon it awhile, lifting up his eyes to Dr. Oking, standing next him, and said, "This man hath been better occupied than a great many of our priests." To which he made no answer. Then said the bishop of Salisbury, "Whose help hadst thou in setting forth this book?" "Truly my lord," quoth he, "no help at all."--"How couldst thou," quoth the bishop, "invent such a book, or know what a concordance meant, without an instructor?" "I will tell you, my lord," quoth he, "what instructor I had to begin it. When Thomas Matthew's Bible came out PAGE 409 in print, I was much desirous to have it, and being a poor man, not able to buy it, determined with myself to borrow one amongst my friends, and to write it forth. And when I had written out the five books of Moses in fair great paper, and was entered into the book of Joshua, my friend Turner, chanced to steal upon me unawares, and seeing me writing out the Bible, asked me what I meant thereby. And when I had told him the cause - 'Tush.' quoth he, 'thou goest about a vain and tedious labour. But this were a profitable work for thee, to set out a concordance in Eng- lish.' 'A concordance,' said I. 'what is that?' Then he told me it was a book to find out any word in the bible by the letter, and that there was such an one in Latin already. Then I told him I had no learning to go about such a thing. 'Enough,' quoth he, 'for that matter, for it requir- eth not so much learning as diligence. And seeing thou art so industri- ous a man, and one that cannot be unoccupied, it were a good exercise for thee.' And this, my lord, is all the instruction that ever I had, before or after, of any man." "And who is that Turner?" quoth the bishop of Salisbury. "Marry," quoth Dr. May, "an honest learned man, and a bachelor of divinity, and some time a fellow in Magdalen College, in Oxford." "How couldst thou," quoth the bishop of Salisbury, "with this instruction, bring it to this order and form as it is?" "I borrowed a Latin Concordance," quoth he, "and began to practise, and at last, with great labour and diligence, brought it into this order, as your lordship doth see." "It is a great pity," quoth the bishop of Ely, "he had not the Latin tongue." "So it is," quoth Dr. May. "Yet I cannot believe," quoth the bishop of Salisbury, "that he hath done any more in this work than written it out after some other that is more learned than himself." "My lords," quoth Marbeck, "I shall beseech you all to pardon me what I shall say, and grant my request if it shall seem good unto you." "Say what thou wilt," quoth the bishop. "I do marvel greatly wherefore I should be so much examined for this book, and whether I have committed any offence in doing it or no? If I have, then were I loth any other should be molested or punished for my fault. Therefore, to clear all men in this matter, this is my request, that ye will try me in the rest of the book that is undone. Ye see that I am yet but at the letter L, begin now at M, and take out what word ye will of that letter, and so in every letter following, and give me the words on a piece of paper, and set me in a place alone where it shall please you, with ink and paper, the English Bible, and the Latin Concordance; and if I bring you not these words written the same order and form that the rest before is, then was it not I that did it, but some other." "By my truth, Marbeck," quoth the bishop of Ely, "that is honestly spoken, and then shalt thou bring many out of suspicion." "That he shall," quoth they all. Then they bade Dr. Oking draw out such words as he thought best on a piece of paper, and so rose up; and in the mean time fell into familiar talk with Mar- beck (as the bishops of Ely and Hereford were both acquainted with him afore, and his friends, so far as they durst), who perceiving the bishops so pleasantly disposed, besought them to tell him in what danger he stood. "I shall tell thee, Marbeck," quoth the bishop of Sarum, PAGE 410 "thou art in a better case than any of thy fellows, of whom there be some would give forty pounds to be in no worse case than thou art," whose sayings the others affirmed. Then came Dr. Oking with the words he had written; and while the bishops were perusing them over, Dr. Oking said to Marbeck, very friendly, "Good Mr. Marbeck make haste, for the sooner you have done, the sooner you shall be delivered." And as the bishops were going away, the bishop of Hereford took Marbeck a little aside, and informed him a word which Dr. Oking had written false, and also to comfort him, said, "fear not, there can no law condemn you for any thing that ye have done; for if ye had written a thousand heresies, so long as they be not your sayings nor your opinions, the law cannot hurt you." And so they all went with the bishop of Sarum to dinner, taking the poor man with them, who dined in the hall at the steward's board, and had wine and meat sent down from the bishop's table. When dinner was over, the bishop of Sarum came down into the hall, commanding ink and paper to be given to Marbeck, and the two books to one of his men to go with him; at whose going he demanded of the bishop, what time his lordship would appoint him to do it in. "Against tomorrow this time," quoth the bishop, which was about two of the clock, and so de- parted. Marbeck now being in his prison-chamber fell to his business, and so applied himself, that by the next day, when the bishop sent for him again, he had written so much, in the same order and form he had done the rest before, as contained three sheets of paper and more, which, when he had delivered to the bishop of Sarum, Dr. Oking standing by, he marvelled and said, "Well, Marbeck, thou hast put me out of all doubt, I assure thee;" and added, putting up the paper into his bosom, "the king shall see this ere I be twenty-four hours older." But he dissembled every word. For afterwards the matter being come to light, and known to the king what a book the poor man had begun, which the bishops would not suffer him to finish, the king said he was better occupied than they that took it from him. So Marbeck departed from the bishop of Sarum to prison again, and heard no more of his book till at Whitsuntide he was ordered to prepare for another and a fifth examina- tion at the same place. On Whit Sunday following in the afternoon, Marbeck was sent for again to St. Mary Overy's, where he found Dr. Oking and another gentleman in a gown of damask, with a chain of gold about his neck, sitting together in one of the stalls, their backs towards the church door, looking upon an epistle of John Calvin's which Marbeck had written out; and when they saw the prisoner come, they rose and had him up to a side altar, leaving his keeper in the body of the church alone. Now as soon as Marbeck saw the face of a gentleman which before he knew not by reason of his apparel, he saw it was the same person that first examined him in the Marshalsea, and caused him to write in the bishop's PAGE 411 gallery, but never knew his name till now he heard Dr. Oking call him Mr. Knight. This man held forth the paper to Marbeck, and said, "Look upon this and tell whose hand it is." When Marbeck had taken the paper and seen what it was, he confessed it to be all his hand, saying the first leaf and the notes that were placed in the margin. "Then I per- ceive," quoth Mr. Knight, "thou wilt not go from thine own hand." "No, Sir," quoth he, "I will deny nothing that I have done." "Thou dost well in that," quoth Knight; "for if thou shouldst, we have testimonies enough to try thy hand by: but I pray thee tell me whose hand is the first leaf?" "That I cannot tell you," quoth Marbeck. "Then how camest thou by it?" quoth Knight. "There was a priest," answered he, "dwelling with us five or six years ago, called Marshall, who sent it unto me with the first leaf written, desiring me to write it out with speed, because the copy could not be spared but an hour or two, and so I wrote it out, and sent him both the copy and it again." "And how came this hand in the margin," quoth he, "which is a contrary hand to both the others?" "That I will tell you," quoth Marbeck. "When I wrote it out at the first, I made so much haste that I understood not the matter, whereof I was desirous to see it again, and to read it with more deliberation: and being sent to me the second time, it was thus quoted in the margin as you see. And shortly after this it was his chance to go beyond the seas, by reason whereof the epistle remaineth with me; but whether the first leaf or the notes in the margin were his hand, or whose hand else, that I cannot tell." "Tush," quoth Dr. Oking to Mr. Knight, "he knoweth well enough that the notes be Hayne's own hand." "If you know so much," quoth Marbeck, "you know more than I do; for I tell you truly, I know it not." "By my faith, Marbeck," quoth Knight, "if thou wilt not tell by fair means, those fingers of thine shall be made to tell." "By my truth, Sir," quoth Marbeck, "if you do tear my whole body in pieces, I trust in God you shall never make me accuse any man wrongfully." "If thou be so stubborn," quoth Dr. Oking, "thou wilt die for it." "Die! Mr. Oking," quoth he; "wherefore should I die? You told me the last day before the bishops, that as soon as I had made an end of the piece of concordance they took me, I should be delivered; and shall I now die? This is a sudden mutation. You seemed then to be my friend. But I know the cause; ye have read the ballad I made of Moses' chair, and that hath set you against me; but whenever ye shall put me to death, I doubt not but that I shall die God's true man and the king's." "How so?" quoth Kinght, "How canst thou die a true man unto the king, when thou hast offended his laws? Are not this epistle, and most of thy notes thou hast written, directly against the six articles?" "No, sir," quoth Marbeck, "I have not offended the king's laws therein; for since the first time I began with the concordance, which is almost six years ago, I have been occu- pied in nothing else; so that both this epistle, and all the notes I have gathered, were written a great while before the six articles came forth, and are clearly remitted by the king's general pardon." "Trust not to that," quoth Knight, "for it will not help thee." "Now, I warrant him," quoth Dr. Oking; and so going down to the body of the church, they PAGE 412 committed him to his keeper, who led him away to prison again. Some particulars of other interesting characters must now receive our atten- tion. When the time drew nigh that the king (who was newly married to lady Catharine Parr) should make his progress abroad, the bishop of Winchester had so compassed his matters, that no man bore so great sway about the king as he did: at which the reformers were so concerned, that the best of them looked every hour to be destroyed. The saying went abroad, that the bishop had bent his bow to shoot at some of the head deer. In the mean time three or four of the leading men were caught - Anthony Pearson, Henry Filmer, and John Marbeck - and sent to Windsor by the sheriff's men, the Saturday before St. James' day, and laid fast in the town jail; and Testwood, who had kept his bed, was brought out of his house upon crutches, and laid with them; but as for Benet, who should have been the fifth man, his chance was to be sick of the pes- tilence, and was therefore left behind in the bishop of London's jail. These men being brought to Windsor, there was a session specially pro- cured to be holden the Thursday following, which was St. Annes' day. Against these sessions, by the counsel of Dr. Loudon, and Simons, were all the farmers belonging to the college of Windsor warned to appear, because they could not select papists enough in the town to go upon the jury. The judges that day were, Dr. Capon, bishop of Salisbury; Sir William Essex; Sir Thomas Bridges; Sir Humfrey Foster; Mr. Franklen, dean of Windsor; and Fachel of Reading. When they had taken their places, and the prisoners were brought forth before them, Robert Ockam, occupying for that day the clerk of the peace's room, called Anthony Pearson, according to the manner of the court, and read his indictment, as follows:- That he had preached, two years before, in a placed called Winkfield, and there said, that "Like as Christ was hanged between two thieves, even so when the priest is at mass, and hath consecrated and lifted him over his head, there he hangeth between two thieves, except he preach the word of God truly, as he hath taken upon him to do." Also that he said to the people in the pulpit - "Ye shall not eat the body of Christ, as it did hang upon the cross, gnawing it with your teeth, that the blood may run about your lips; but you shall eat him this day as ye eat him to-morrow, the next day, and every day; for it refresheth not the body but the soul." Also, that after he had preached and commended the scripture, calling it the word of God, he said as follows: "This is the word, this is the bread, this is the body of Christ." Also he said, that Christ, sitting with his disciples, took bread, and blessed, and brake it, and gave it to his disciples, saying, "Take and eat, this is my body. What is this to us, but to take the scripture of God and to break it to the people?" To these things Anthony answered, "I will be tried by God and his holy word, and by the true church of Christ, wheth- er this be heresy or no, whereof ye have indicted me this day. So long as I preached the bishop of Rome, and his filthy traditions, I never was troubled; but since I have taken upon me to preach Christ and his gos- pel, ye have always sought my life. But it maketh no matter, for when PAGE 413 you have taken your pleasure of my body, I trust it shall not lie in your power to hurt my soul." "Thou callest us thieves," quoth the bishop. "I say," quoth Anthony, "ye are not only thieves, but murderers, except ye preach and teach the word of God purely and sincerely to the people; which ye do not, nor ever did, but have allured them to idola- try, superstition, and hypocrisy, for your own lucre and honour's sake, through which ye are become rather bite-sheeps, than true bishops; biting and devouring the poor sheep of Christ, like ravening wolves, never satisfied with blood; which God will require at your hands one day, doubt it not." Then spoke Simons his accuser, standing within the bar - "It is a pity this fellow had not been burnt long ago, as he de- served." "In faith," quoth Anthony, "if you had as you deserved, you are more worthy to stand in this place than I am; but I trust, in the last day, when we shall both appear before the tribunal of Christ, it will be known which of us hath best deserved this place." "Shall I have so long a day?" quoth Simons, holding up his finger; "nay, then I care not;" and thus the most solemn of all seasons and subjects was turned into laugh- ter, which the grave bishop did not suppress. Testwood was next called, and his indictment read, which was that he should say in the time the priest was lifting up the sacrament - "What wilt thou lift up so high? what higher? take heed, let him not fall." To this charge Testwood answered it was but a thing maliciously forged by his enemies to bring him to death. "Yes," quoth the bishop, "thou hast been seen, that when the priest should lift up the consecrated host over his head, then wouldst thou look upon thy book, or some other way, because thou wouldst not abide to look upon the blessed sacrament." "I beseech you, my lord," quoth Testwood, "whereon did he look that marked me so well?" "Marry," quoth Bucklayer, the king's attorney, "he could not be better occupied, than to mark such heretics that so despised the blessed sacrament." A striking proof this of the arrant sophistry with which the judicious arguments of the reformers were met by their enemies. After Testwood, Filmer was called, and his indictment read; that he should say that the sacrament of the altar is nothing but a similitude and a ceremony; and also if God be in the sacrament of the altar, he had eaten many Christs in his day. Here it should be understood, that these words were gathered of certain communications which passed between Filmer and his brother. The story was as follows:- Henry Filmer coming on a Sunday from Clewer, his parish church, in the company of one or two of his neighbours, chanced in his way to meet his brother, who was a poor labouring man, and asked him whither he went? "To the church," said he. "And what to do?" quoth Filmer, "To do," quoth he, "as other men do." "Nay," quoth Filmer, "you go to hear mass, and to see your Christ." "What if I do so?" quoth he. "If that be Christ," Filmer said, "I have eaten twenty Christs in my days. Turn again, fool, and go home with me, and I will read thee a chapter out of the Bible, that will be better than all that thou shalt see or hear there." This tale was no sooner brought to Dr. Loudon, by Simons, Filmer's utter enemy, but he sent for the poor man PAGE 414 home to his house, telling him he should never want so long as he lived, so that Filmer, thinking to have a daily friend in the doctor, was content to do so, and say whatsoever he and Simons would have him against his own brother. And when the doctor had thus won the poor man, he retained him as one of his household, until the court day was come, and then sent him up to witness this aforesaid tale against his brother: which tale Filmer denied utterly, saying that Dr. Loudon, for a little meat and drink, had set him on and made him say what he pleased. "Where- fore my lord," quoth Filmer to the bishop, "I beseech your lordship weigh the matter indifferently, forasmuch as there is no man, in all this town, that can or will testify that ever he heard any such talk between him and me; and if he can bring forth any that will witness it, I refuse not to die." But say what he could it would not prevail. On Filmer seeing that his brother's accusement would take place, he said, "Ah, brother, what cause hast thou to shew me this unkindness? I have always been a natural brother unto thee and thine, and helped thee all in my power, from time to time, as thou thyself knowest; and is this a brotherly part, thus to reward me now for my kindness? God forgive thee, my brother, and grant thee grace to repent." Then Filmer, looking over his shoulder, desired some good person to let him see the book of sta- tutes. His wife being at the end of the hall, and hearing her husband call for the book of statutes, ran down to the keeper, and brought up the book, and got it conveyed to her husband. The bishop seeing the book in his hand, started up from the bench in a great fume, demanding who had given the prisoner that book, commanding it to be taken from him, and to make search who had brought it, swearing by the faith of his body that he should go to prison. Some said it was his wife, some said the keeper. "Like enough, my lord," quoth Simons, "for he is one of the same sort, and as worthy to be here as the best, if he were rightly served." But whosoever it was, the truth was not known, and so the bishop sat down again. Then said Filmer, "O my lord, I am this day judged by a law, and why should I not see the law that I am judged by? The law is, I should have two lawful witnesses, and here is but one, who acts not by his own will, but is forced thereunto by the suggestion of mine enemies." "Nay," quoth Bucklayer, the king's attorney, "thine heresy is so heinous, and so much against thine own brother, that if forceth him to witness against thee, which is more than two other witnesses." Thus was Filmer brought unjustly to his death by the malice of Simons and Dr. Loudon, who had incited his wretched brother to work his destruction. But God, who is a just avenger of all falsehoods and wrongs, would not suffer that wretch to live long upon earth; but the next year he was taken up for a labourer to go to Boulogne, and had not been there three days, when a spring-gun took him and tore him all to pieces. Thus were the words of Solomon fulfilled - "A false witness shall not remain unpu- nished." John Marbeck was now called, and his indictment was nearly the same as that of the others - that he should say that the holy mass, which the priest consecrates into the body of our Lord, is polluted, deformed, sinful, and open robbery of the glory of God, from which a PAGE 415 christian heart ought both to abhor and flee. And the elevation of the sacrament is the similitude of setting up the images of the calves in the temple built by Jeroboam: and that it is greater abomination than the sacrifices made by the Jews in Jeroboam's temple to those calves. And that certain and sure it is, that Christ himself is made in the mass man's laughing-stock. To this Marbeck answered and said, that the words whereof they had indicted him were not his, but the words of a learned man called John Calvin, drawn out of a certain epistle which Calvin had made, which epistle he had only written out, and that long before the six articles came forth; so that now he was discharged of that offence by the king's general pardon, desiring that he might enjoy the benefit thereof. Then was the jury called, who were all farmers belonging to the college of Windsor, whereof few or none had ever seen the men be- fore, on whose life and death they sat. Wherefore the prisoners, count- ing the farmers as partial, desired to have the townsmen, or such as did know them, and had heard their daily conversations, in the place of the farmers, or else to be equally joined with them; but this justice was not allowed, for the matter was otherwise forseen and determined. When the jury had taken their oath, Bucklayer, the king's attorney, began to speak; first he alleged many reasons against Anthony Pearson, to prove him a heretic: and when Anthony would have disproved them, the bishop said, "Let him alone, sir, he speaketh for the king:" and so went Buck- layer on, making every man's cause as heinous to the hearers as he could devise. When he had done, Sir Humfrey Foster spoke in favour of Marbeck, as follows: "Masters, you see there is no man here that accuseth or layeth any thing to the charge of this poor man, Marbeck, saying he hath writ certain things of other men's sayings, with his own hand, whereof he is discharged by the king's general pardon; therefore ye ought to have a conscience therein." Then started up Fachel, at the lower end of the bench, and said, "How can we tell whether they were written before the pardon, or after? they may as well be written since as before, for any thing that we know." These words of Fachel, as every one said, were the cause of Marbeck's being cast that day. Then the jury went up to the chamber, and when they had been together there about the space of a quarter of an hour, Simons went up to them. After that came one of them down to the bishop, and talked with him and the other two a good while: whereby many conjectured that the jury could not agree. But whether it was so or no, it was not long after his going up again, ere that they came down to give their verdict; and being required according to the form of the law to say their minds, one Hide, the foreman, said the prisoners were all guilty of the charges brought against them. The judges, beholding the prisoners a good while - some of them even with tears - contended who should give judgment. Fachel requiring the bishop to do it, he said, "I may not." The others also being required, said, "We will not." Then said Fachel, "It must be done; one must do it, and if no man will, then will I." And so he, though he was the lowest of all the bench, gave judgment. Then Marbeck, being the last upon whom sen- tence was given, cried to the bishop, saying, "Ah, my lord, you told me PAGE 416 otherwise when I was before you and the other two bishops. You said then, that I was in better case than any of my fellows, and is your saying come to this? Ah, my lord, you have deceived me!" Then the bishop, casting up his hand, said, "I cannot do so with all," - evident- ly meaning that, as he could not spare all, all must die. The prisoners being condemned and had away, prepared to die on the morrow, comforting one another in the death and passion of their master Christ, who had led the way before them, trusting that the same Lord, who had made them worthy to suffer thus far for his sake, would not now withdraw his strength from them, but give them stedfast faith and power to overcome all fiery torments, and of his free mercy and goodness, for his promise sake, receive their souls. Thus lay they all the night long, calling to God for his aid and strength, praying for their persecutors, who from blind zeal and ignorance had done they knew not what; that God of his merciful goodness would forgive them, and turn their hearts to the love and knowledge of his blessed and holy word. Indeed, such heavenly talk was amongst them that night, that the hearers watching the prison with- out, and of whom the sheriff himself was one, with many gentlemen more, were constrained to shed tears, as they themselves confessed. On the morrow, which was Friday, as the prisoners were all preparing themselves to suffer, word was brought that they should not die that day. The cause was this: the bishop of Sarum had sent a letter to the bishop of Winchester, who was with the court at Okingham, in favour of Marbeck; at the sight of which the bishop straightway went to the king, and obtained his pardon. This being granted, he caused a warrant to be made for the sheriff's discharge, delivering the same to the messenger, who returned with speed, bringing news of the pardon, whereat many rejoiced. Of the cause of this pardon were divers conjectures made; some said it was through the suit of the good sheriff Sir William Barrington, and Sir Humfrey Foster, with other gentlemen who favoured Marbeck, to the bishop of Sarum and the other commissioners, that the letter was again sent. Some said again that it came through the bishop of Sarum, and because Fachel himself was troubled in conscience for having convicted Marbeck. Others thought again it was a policy of the bishops of Winchester and of Sarum, and of Dr. Loudon, because they would for once at least seem to be merciful. On Saturday in the morning, when the prisoners were to go to execution, came into the prison two of the canons of the college, the one called Dr. Blithe, and the other Mr. Arch, who were both sent to be their confessors. Mr. Arch asked them, if they would be confest? and they said, "Yea." Then he demanded if they would receive the sacrament? "Yea," said they, "with all our hearts." "I am glad," quoth Arch, "to hear you say so; but the law is, that it may not be ministered to any that are condemned of heresy: however, it is enough for you that ye desire it." And so he had them up to the hall to hear their confessions, because the prison was full of people. Dr. Blithe took Anthony Pearson to confess, and Mr. Arch the other two. But howsoever the matter went between the doctor and Anthony, he was not long with him, but came down PAGE 417 again, saying, "I will have no more of his doctrine." Soon after the other two came down also. Then Anthony, seeing many people in the pris- on, began to say the Lord's prayer, wherein he continued till the offic- ers came to fetch them away; then taking their leave of Marbeck, they praised God for his deliverance, wishing him an increase of godliness and virtue, and last of all besought him heartily to help them with his prayer unto God, to make them strong in their afflictions: and so kiss- ing him one after another, they departed. As the prisoners passed through the people in the street, they desired all the people to pray for them, and to stand fast in the truth of the gospel, and not to be moved at their afflictions, for it was the happiest thing that ever came to them. And as Dr. Blithe and Arch, who rode on each side the prison- ers, would persuade them to turn to their mother holy church - "Away," would Anthony cry, "away with your Romish doctrine and all your trum- pery, for we will have no more of it." When Filmer came to his brother's door, he stayed and called for his brother; but he could not be seen, for Dr. Loudon had kept him out of sight. When he had called for him three or four times, and saw he came not, he said, "And will he not come? Then God forgive him, and make him a good man." Thus they came to the place of execution, where Anthony Pearson, with a cheerful countenance, embraced the post in his arms, and kissing it said, "Now welcome mine own sweet wife; for this day shalt thou and I be married together in the love and peace of God." When they were all three bound to the post, a young man of Filmer's acquaintance brought him some liquor, asking if he would drink? "Yea," quoth Filmer, "I thank you. And now, my brother, I shall desire you in the name of the living Lord to stand fast in the truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ, which you have received;" and so taking the cup into his hand, asked his brother Antho- ny if he would drink. "Yea, brother Filmer," quoth he, "I pledge you in the Lord." When he had drunk, he gave the cup to Anthony, and Anthony gave it to Testwood, of which their adversaries made a jest, reporting abroad that they were all drunk, and knew not what they said; though they were no otherwise drunk than the apostles were, when the people said they were full of new wine, as their deeds declared; for when Anthony and Testwood had both drunk, and given the cup from them, Film- er, rejoicing in the Lord, said, "Be merry, my brethren, and lift up your hearts and hands unto God, for after this sharp breakfast I trust we shall have a good dinner in the kingdom of Christ, our Lord and Redeemer." At these words Testwood, lifting up his hands and eyes to heaven, desired the Lord above to receive his spirit. Anthony Pearson, pulling the straw towards him, laid a good deal thereof upon the top of his head, saying, "This is God's hat; now I am dressed like a true soldier of Christ, by whose merits only I trust this day to enter his joy." Thus yielded they up their souls to the Father of Heaven, in the faith of his dear Son Jesus Christ, with such humility and stedfastness, that many who saw their patient suffering, confessed that they could have found in their hearts to have died with them. About the same time PAGE 418 suffered, for the cause of God and truth, Adam Damlip, who was martyred at Calais, then belonging to the English, and was an Englishman. The spot is still shewn, just without the city, where he and others, at different times, endured with greater or less constancy the fiery trial by which the reformed faith was thus early put to the test. Calais would have witnessed many more martyrdoms, but that England began to lose its hold of the place as the persecutions advanced. Adam Damlip, otherwise George Bucker, went to Calais, in the year 1539. He had formerly been a zealous papist, and chaplain to Fisher, bishop of Rochester. After the death of the bishop, he travelled through France, Holland, and Italy, and as he went conferred with learned men concerning matters of contro- versy in religion, and thence proceeded to Rome, where he thought to have found all godliness and sincere religion; but instead of this, he found there, according to his assertion, such blasphemy of God, contempt of Christ's true religion, looseness of life, and abundance of all abominations and impurities, that his heart abhorred any longer to remain there. He was indeed earnestly requested by cardinal Pole, who wished him to read three lectures in the week in his house, for which he offered him great entertainment; but he preferred returning homeward by way of Calais. As he was waiting without the gate of the place for a passage to England, he was perceived by certain Calais men, named Wil- liam Steven, and Thomas Lancaster, through conference of talk, to be a learned man, and also well affected; and that being of late a zealous papist, he was now turned to a more perfect knowledge of true religion; they therefore heartily entreated him to stay at Calais awhile, and to read there a day or two, to the intent he might do some good in the city, after his painful travel. To this request Adam gladly consented, if he could be licensed by such as were in authority so to do. Whereu- pon Steven, at the opening of the gates, brought him to lord Lisle, the king's deputy of the town and marshes of Calais, to whom he declared thoroughly what conference had been between Damlip and him; which known, the lord deputy instantly desired Damlip to stay there, and to preach three or four days or more at pleasure, saying, that he should have both his licence and that of Sir John Butler, his commissasry, for that purpose. Having preached three or four times, he was so liked, both for his learning, his utterance, and the truth of his doctrine, that not only the soldiers and commoners, but the lord deputy and a great part of the council, gave him great praise and thanks for it; and the lord deputy offered him a chamber in his own house, and to dine and sup at his own mess, to have a man or two of his to wait upon him, and to have whatsoever he lacked, if it were to be had for money: he also offered him his purse to buy books, or otherwise, so that he would remain with them, and preach only so long as it should seem good to himself. Damlip refused with much gratitude these liberal offers of his lordship, re- questing him to be only so good as to appoint him some quiet and decent place in the town where he might not be disturbed or molested, but have opportunity to give himself to his books, and he would daily, once in the forenoon and again at one o'clock in the afternoon, by the grace of PAGE 419 God, preach among them according to the talent that afternoon, by the grace of God, preach among them according to the talent that God had lent him. At this the lord deputy greatly rejoiced, and sent for William Stevens, whom he earnestly requested to lodge Damlip in his house, promising whatsoever he should demand, to see it paid; and more- over would send every meal from his own table of the best unto them: and indeed so he did, although Damlip refused that offer, shewing his lord- ship that thin diet was most convenient for students; yet could he not thus restrain the generous noble, who sent the choicest food. This godly man, for the space of twenty days or more, once every day at seven o'clock, preached very learnedly and plainly the truth of the blessed sacrament of Christ's body and blood, inveighing against all papistry, and confuting the same, but especially those two most pernicious errors - transubstantiation, and the propitiatory sacrifice of the Romish Mass. This he did by true conference of the scriptures, and applying of the ancient doctors, earnestly therewith oftentimes exhorting the people to return from their delusion, declaring how popish he himself had been, and how by the detestable wickedness that he saw universally in Rome, he was now become an enemy, through God's grace, to all papistry, shewing therewith that if gain or ambition could have moved him to the contrary, he might have been entertained by cardinal Pole;but for conscience sake, joined with true knowledge, grounded on God's most holy word, he now utterly abhorred the superstition, and willed them most earnestly to do the same. Thus he continued awhile reading in the Chapter-house of the White Friars; but the place not being large enough, he was desired to read in the pulpit, and so proceeded in his lectures to declare how the world was deceived by the Roman bishops, who had set forth the damnable doctrine of transubstantiation, and the real presence in the sacrament. He came at length to speak against the pageant, or picture set forth of the resurrection in St. Nicholas' church, declaring the same to be but mere idolatry, and an illusion of the French, which the English should remove.The consequence of this was there came a commission from the king to the lord deputy, that search should be made whether there were three hosts lying upon a marble stone besprinkled with blood;and if they found it so, that immediately it should be plucked up, and so it was. For in searching thereof, as they brake up a stone in a corner of the tomb,they found soldered, in the cross of marble lying under the sepulchre, three plain white counters, which had been painted like unto hosts,and a bone; all this trumpery Damlip shewed to the people the Sunday following from the pulpit, and after that they were sent by the deputy to the king.Very soon, however, a prior of the White Friars, named Dove, with Buttoll, chaplain to the lord Lisle, began to speak against him. Yet after Adam had in three or four sermons confuted the erroneous doctrine of transub- stantiation, and of the propitiatory sacrifice of the mass; the friar. PAGE 420 outwardly seemed to give place, ceasing openly to inveigh, yet secretly practised to impeach him by letters sent unto the clergy in England; so that within eight or ten days after, Damlip was sent for to appear before the archbishop of Canterbury, with whom was assistant the bishop of Winchester, the bishop of Chichester, and divers others, before whom he constantly affirmed and defended the doctrine which he had taught, answering, confuting, and solving the objections; so that his adver- saries, among whom was the learned and pious Cranmer, marvelled at it, and said plainly, that the scriptures knew not such a term as transub- stantiation. Then began the other bishops to threaten him, shortly to confute him with their accustomed argument of fire and fagot, if he would still stand to the defence of that he had spoken. To this he constantly answered, that he would the next day deliver unto them fully as much in writing as he had said, whereunto also he would stand; and so he was dismissed. The next day at the appointed hour for his ap- pearance, when they looked surely to have apprehended him, he came not; for he had secret intimation from the archbishop of Canterbury, that if he again personally appeared, he would be committed to ward and not likely to escape a cruel death. On this he sent them four sheets of paper, learnedly written in the Latin tongue, containing his faith, with his arguments, conferences of the scriptures, and allegations of the doctors, by a friend of his; which done, he with a little money given him, stepped aside and fled into the west country; where he continued teaching a school about a year or two, after which he was again appre- hended by the inquisition of the six articles, and brought to London. Gardiner commanded him into the Marshalsea, and there he lay the space of other two years, or about that time. During his confinement in the Marshalsea, John Marbeck was committed to the same prison, on the morrow after Palm Sunday. It should be understood that at Easter every person must needs come to confession; whereupon Marbeck, who had never seen him before, entering into conference with him, perceived what he was, what he had been, what troubles he had sustained, how long he had lain in prison, which Damlip related to him. "And now," said he, "because I think they have forgotten me, I am fully minded to make my humble suit to the bishop of Winchester, in an epistle, declaring therein mine obedience, humble submission, and earnest desire to come to examination. I know the worst: I can but lose my life at present, which I had rather do, than remain here and not be suffered to use my talent to God's glory; wherefore, God willing I will surely put it to the proof." Damlip, for honest and goodly behaviour, was beloved of all the house; but especially by the keeper himself whose name was Massy, whom he always called master; and being suffered to go at liberty within the premises whither he would, he did much good among the common and disso- lute sort of prisoners, in rebuking vice and sin, and thus kept them in such good order and awe, that the gaoler thought him a great treasure. And no less also Marbeck himself confessed to have found great comfort from him. For notwithstanding the strict command given by the bishop of Winchester, that no man should come to him, nor he to speak with any PAGE 421 man, yet Adam many times would find the means to comfort his companion. Now when he had made known and drawn out his epistle, he delivered it to the keeper on Saturday in the morning, which was about the second week before Whit Sunday, desiring him to deliver it at the court to the bishop of Winchester. The keeper said he would, and so did. Having done it, he came home at night very late, and when the prisoners, who had waited supper for his coming, saw him sad and heavy, they deemed someth- ing to be amiss. At last casting his eyes upon Damlip, he said, "O George, I can tell thee tidings." "What is that, master?" quoth he. "Upon Monday next, thou and I must go to Calais." "To Calais! what to do?" "I know not," quoth the keeper, and pulled out of his purse a piece of wax, with a little label of parchment, hanging out thereat, which seemed to be a precept. When Damlip saw it, he said, "Well, well, mas- ter, now I know what the matter is." "What?" quoth the keeper. "Truly, master, I shall die in Calais." "Nay," quoth the keeper, "I trust it will not be so." "Yes, yes, master, it is most true; and I praise God for his goodness therein." And so the keeper with Damlip and Marbeck went together to supper, with heavy cheer for Sir George, as they used to call him. He notwithstanding was merry himself, and ate his meat as well as ever: insomuch that some of the board told him they marvelled how he could eat so well, knowing he was so near his death. "Ah, mas- ters," quoth he, "do you think that I have been God's prisoner so long in the Marshalsea, and have not yet learned to die? Yes, yes, and I doubt not but God will strengthen me therein." On Monday, early in the morning, the keeper, with three others of the knight-marshal's servants, setting out of London, conveyed Adam Damlip to Calais, upon Ascension Eve, and there committed him to the mayor's prison. On the same day, John Butler, the commissary aforesaid, and Sir Daniel, the curate of St. Peter's, were also committed to the same prison, and commandment given for no man to speak with Butler especially, nor generally to the rest. The following Saturday was the day of execution for Damlip. The cause which they laid to his charge was heresy; but by reason of an act of parliament all such offences, done by a certain day, were pardoned. Through this act he could not be burdened with any thing that he had preached or taught before; yet for receiving a French crown of cardinal Pole, which he gave him merely to assist him in his travailing expences, he was condemned of treason, and cruelly put to death being hung, drawn and quartered. The day before his execution, came unto him one Mr. Mote, then parson of our Lady's church in Calais, saying, "Your four quarters shall be hanged at four parts of the town." "And where shall my head be?" said Damlip. "Upon the Lantern gate," said Mote. "Then," answered Damlip, "shall I not need to provide for my burial." At his death, Sir R. Ellerker, then knight-marshal there, would not suffer the innocent and godly man to declare either his faith, or the cause he died PAGE 422 for; but said to the executioner, "Dispatch the knave, have done!" Mote was appointed there to preach, and declared to the people how Damlip had been a sower of seditious doctrine; and albeit he was for that absolved by the general pardon, yet he was condemned for being a traitor against the king. To which when Adam Damlip would have replied, Ellerker would not suffer him to speak a word, but commanded him to be had away. Thus most meekly, patiently, and joyfully, the blessed and innocent martyr took his death; Ellerker saying, that he would not away before he had seen the traitor's heart plucked out of his body. Divine Providence, however, shortly after overtook this sanguinary monster with a just punishment: for in a skirmish between the French and English at Boul- ogne, he was among others slain. His mere death sufficed not his ene- mies: but after they had stripped him naked, they cut the heart out of his body, and so left him a terrible example to all bloody and merciless men. For no cause was known why they shewed such indignation against Sir Ralph Ellerker more than against the rest, but that it is written, Faciens justitias Dominus & judicia omnibus injuria pressis. Among others who suffered there, was a certain scholar, counted to be a Scotchman, named Dod, who coming out of Germany was taken with certain German books about him, and being examined, and standing constantly to the truth that he learned, was condemned to death, and burned in the same city. The chief thing now aimed at by the whole popish party was Cranmer's ruin. Gardiner employed many to insinuate to the king, that he gave the chief encouragement to heresy of any in England, and that it was in vain to lop off the branches, and leave the root still growing. The king, till then, would never hear the complaints that were made him: but now, to penetrate into the depths of this design, he was willing to draw out all that was to be alleged. Gardiner reckoned that this point being gained, all the rest would follow; and judging that the king was now alienated from him, more instruments and artifices than ever were accordingly made use of. A long paper containing many particulars, both against Cranmer and his chaplains, was put in the king's hands. Upon this the king sent for him; and after he had complained much of the heresy in England, he said he resolved to find out the chief promoter of it, and to make him an example. Cranmer wished him first to consider well what heresy was, that so he might not condemn those as heretics who stood for the word of God against human inventions. Then the king told him frankly, that he was the man complained of as most guilty; and shewed him all the informations he had received against him. Cranmer confessed he was still of the same mind that he had when he opposed the six articles, and submitted himself to a trial; he confessed many things to the king - in particular that he had a wife, but he had sent her out of England when the act of the six articles passed; and expressed so great a sincerity, and put so entire a confidence in the king, that, instead of being ruined, he was now better established with him than ever. The king was so well pleased that he even commanded him to ap- point some to examine the contrivance that was laid to destroy him. Cranmer answered that it was not decent for him to nominate the judge in a cause in which himself was concerned; but the king being positive he PAGE 423 named some to undertake it, and the whole secret was found out. It appeared that Gardiner had been the chief instrument, and had encouraged informers to appear against him. Cranmer did not press the king to give him any reparation; for he was so noted for his readiness to forgive injuries, and to do good for evil, that it was commonly said by the king himself, that the best way to obtain his favour, was to do him an in- jury. Of this he gave signal proof at this time, both in relation to some of the clergy and laity who sought to undermine him: by which it appeared that he was actuated by that meek and lowly spirit which became all the followers of Christ; and more particularly one who was so great an instrument in reforming the Christian church, and who therefore was publicly pledged to eminent acts of charity, and himself to practise that which he taught others to do. A parliament was now called, in which the great act of succession to the crown passed. By it the crown was first to descend to prince Edward and his heirs, or the heirs by the king's present marriage: after them to the lady Mary, and the lady Elizabeth; and in case they had no issue, or did not observe such limi- tations and conditions as the king should appoint, then it was to fall to any other whom he should name, either by letters patent, or by his last will signed with his own hand. An oath was appointed both against the pope's supremacy, and for maintaining the succession according to this act, which all were required to take under the penalty of treason. It was made treason to say or write any thing contrary to this act, or to the slander of any of the king's heirs named in it. Another act passed, qualifying the severity of the act of the six articles: none were to be imprisoned but upon a legal presentment, except upon the king's warrant. None were to be challenged for words but within a year; nor for a sermon, but within forty days. This was made to prevent such conspiracies as had been discovered the former year. Another act passed, renewing the authority given to thirty-two commissioners to reform the ecclesiastical law, which Cranmer promoted much; and, to push it for- ward, he put out of the canon law, a collection of many things against the regal, and for the papal authority, with several other very extrav- agant propositions, to shew how indecent a thing it was to let a book, in which such things were, continue still in any credit in England: but he could not bring this to any good issue. A general pardon now was granted, out of which heresy was excepted. The king was engaged in a war both with France and Scotland. The earl of Hertford was sent with an army by sea to Scotland, who, landing at Grantham a little above Leith, burnt both Leith and Edinburgh; but neither stayed to take the castle of Edinburgh, nor did he fortify Leith, but only wasted the country from that to Berwick. He did too much, if it was intended to gain the hearts of that nation; and too little, if it was intended to subdue them; for this only inflamed their spirits more, and rendered them so united in their aversion to England, that the Earl of Lennox, who had been cast off by France and was gone over to the English interest, could make no party in the west, but was forced for his own preservation to flee into concealment. Audley, the chancellor, dying at this time, Wriothesly, who PAGE 424 was of the popish party, was put in his place. On the other hand Dr. Petre, hitherto Cranmer's friend, was made secretary of state: so equal- ly did the king keep the balance between both parties. Being to cross the seas, he left a commission for the administration of affairs during his absence, to the queen, the archbishop, the chancellor, the earl of Hertford, and secretary Petre; with the proviso that if they should have any occasion to raise any force, he appointed the earl of Hertford his lieutenant. He gave orders also to translate the prayers, processions, and litanies, into the English tongue, which gave the reformers some hope that he had not quite cast off his design of reforming such abuses as had crept into the worship of God. And they also hoped that the reasons which prevailed with the king for this, would also induce him to order a translation of all the other offices into the English tongue. The king crossed the sea with great pomp, the sails of his ship being of cloth of gold. He sat down before Boulogne, and took it after a siege of two months. It was soon after almost retaken by suprise; but the garri- son were quickly put in order, and beat out the French. Thus the king returned victorious, and was as much flattered for taking this single town as if he had conquered a kingdom. The next year the king of France set out a fleet of above 300 ships; and the king of England set out an hundred sail: on both sides they were mostly mere merchantmen hired for the occasion. The French made two descents upon England, but were beaten back with loss. The English made a descent in Normandy, and burnt some towns. The people of Germany saw their danger if this war went on; for the pope and the emperor had made a league for procuring obedience to the council now opened at Trent. The emperor was raising an army, though he had made peace both with France and the Porte; and he was resolved to make good use of this opportunity, the two crowns being now at war. So the Germans sent to mediate a peace between them: but it stuck long at the business of Boulogne. Lee, archbishop of York, died at this time, and Holgate was removed from Landaff thither, who in his heart favoured the reformation. Kitchen was put in Landaff, who turned with every change that was made - was "tossed to and fro with every wind of doc- trine." Heath was removed from Rochester to Worcester, Holbeck was put into Rochester, and Day was appointed bishop of Chichester. All those were moderate men, and well disposed to a reformation, at least to comply with it. Still the punishments for pretended heresy went on, and the year 1546 was celebrated by the persecution and death of that glori- ous martyr, George Wishart, in Scotland. But, before we proceed to him, we shall relate the sufferings of some other martyrs of that country, who, although not so conspicuous in history, were equally deserving public admiration and gratitude, being all of one spirit, and that "the spirit of wisdom and knowledge in the revelation of Jesus Christ." Not long after the burning of Stratton and Gurley, by the influence of David Beaton, bishop and cardinal of St. Andrew's, and George Treichton, bishop of Dunkeld, there arose a canon of St. Colmes and vicar of PAGE 425 Dolone, called dean Thomas Forret, who preached every Sunday to his parishioners out of the epistle or gospel as it fell for the time; which then was a great novelty in Scotland, scarcely any one ever preaching except a black or a grey friar. Therefore the friars envied Forret, and accused him to the bishop of Dunkeld, in whose diocese he remained, as a heretic, and one that showed the mysteries of the scriptures to the vulgar in English, to make the clergy detestable in the sight of the people. The bishop, moved by the friars' instigation, called Forret before him and said, "I love you well, and therefore must give you my council how you should rule and guide yourself in these days. My dear dean Thomas, I am informed that you preach from the epistle or gospel every Sunday to your parishioners, and that you take not the cow, nor the uppermost cloth from your parishioners, which is very prejudicial to the churchmen; and, therefore, I would you took your cow and your upper- most cloth as other churchmen do, or else it is too much to preach every Sunday; for in so doing you may make the people think that we should preach likewise. But it is enough for you, when you find any good epis- tle, or any good gospel, that setteth forth the liberty of the holy church, to preach that, and let the rest be." Thomas answered, "My lord, I think that none of my parishioners will complain that I take not the cow nor the uppermost cloth, but will gladly give me the same, together with any other thing that they have; and I will give and commu- nicate with them any thing that I have; and so, my lord, we agree right well, and there is no discord among us. In regard to what your lordship saith, 'it is too much to preach every Sunday,' indeed I think it is too little; and also would wish that your lordship did the like." "Nay, nay, dean Thomas, let that be," said the bishop, "for we are not ordained to preach." Then said Thomas, "Where your lordship biddeth me preach, when I find any good epistle, or a good gospel, truly, my lord, I have read the new Testament and Old, and all the epistles and gospels, and among them all I could never find an evil epistle or an evil gospel; but if your lordship will shew me the good epistle and the good gospel, and the evil epistle and the evil gospel, then I shall preach the good and omit the evil." Then spake my lord stoutly, and said, "I thank God that I never knew what the Old and New Testament was; therefore, dean Thomas, I will know nothing but my portuise and my pontificial. Go your way, and let be all these fantasies, for if you persevere in these erroneous opinions, ye will repent when ye may not mend it." Thomas said, "I trust my cause to be just in the presence of God; and, therefore, I pass not much what do follow thereupon;" and thus my lord and he parted at that time. Soon after a summons was directed from the cardinal of Saint PAGE 426 Andrew's and the bishop of Dunkeld, upon the dean Thomas Forret, upon two black friars, called Kelow and Benarage, and upon a priest of Stri- veling, called Duncane Sympson, and a gentleman called Robert Foster, with three or four others of the town of Striveling; who, at the day of their appearance, were condemned to death, without any place for recan- tation; because, as was alleged, they were heresiarchs, or chief heret- ics and teachers of heresy; and especially because many of them were at the bridal of a priest, the vicar of Twybody, and did eat flesh in Lent at the said bridal. These were the heinous crimes of the several prison- ers, and for which they were altogether burnt upon the castle-hill at Edinburgh, where they that were first bound to the stake piously and marvellously did comfort them which came behind, and by their example induced them to be equally courageous and submissive. Robert Lambe, William Anderson, James Hunter, James Ravelson, James Founleson, And Hellen, his wife, were not long after the victims of a cruel persecution in the city of Perth; the occasion and preparation of which was chiefly as follows. There was a certain act of parliament made in the time of the lord Hamilton, earl of Arran, and governor of Scotland, giving privilege to all men of the realm of Scotland to read the scriptures in their mother tongue and language; yet forbidding all reasoning, confer- ence and convocation of people to hear the scriptures read or expounded. This liberty of private reading, being granted by public proclamation, lacked not his own fruit, so that in sundry parts of Scotland thereby were opened the eyes of the people of God to see the truth and abhor the papistical abominations. Among these were certain persons in Perth, then called by the ancient and ecclesiastical name of St. Johnstone. At this time there was a sermon by friar Spense, in Perth, affirming prayers made to saints to be so necessary, that without them there could be no hope of salvation to man. This blasphemous doctrine a burgess of the town, called Robert Lambe, could not abide, but accused the friar in open audience of erroneous doctrine, and abjured him in God's name to utter the truth. The friar, being stricken with fear, promised to do this, but the trouble and tumult of the people increased so, that he could have no audience; and yet Lambe with great danger of his life, escaped the hands of the multitude, chiefly made up of women, who con- trary to nature addressed themselves to extreme cruelty against him. The enemies of truth proceeded so far as to procure John Chartuous, who favoured the truth, and was provost of the city of Perth, to be deposed from his office by the governor's authority: a papist, named Alexander Marbeck, was chosen in his room, that they might the more easily accom- plish their ungodly enterprise. After deposing the former provost, and electing the other, which took place in the month of January on St. Paul's day, there came to Perth the governor, the cardinal, the earl of Argyle, justice Campbel of Lunde, justice Defort, the lord Borthwike, the bishops of Dunblane and Orkeney, with certain others of the nobility and gentry. And although there were many accused of the crime of heresy, as they term it, yet these persons only were at this time apprehended: Robert Lambe, William Anderson, James Hunter, James Raveleson, James PAGE 427 Founleson, and Hellen his wife. They were cast that night in the Spay Tower of the said city, to abide judgment on the morrow. When they then were brought forth to judgment, there was laid in general to all their charge, violating of the act of parliament before expressed, and their conference and assemblies in hearing and expounding scripture against the tenor of the said act. Robert Lambe was specially accused for inter- rupting the friar in the pulpit; which he not only confessed, but also affirmed constantly that it was the duty of no man, who understood and knew the truth, to hear the same impugned without contradiction; and therefore, any who were there present in judgment, who withheld their defence of the truth, should bear the burden in God's presence for neglecting the same. William Anderson and James Ravelson, were accused of hanging up the image of St. Francis in a cord, nailing ram's horns to his head, and a cow's rump to his tail, and for eating a goose on All- hallows eve. James Hunter, being a simple man and without learning, and a fletcher by occupation, so that he could be charged with no great knowledge in doctrine, yet because he was often found in the company of the rest was accused with them. The woman, Hellen, was charged with not calling upon the name of the Virgin Mary, being exhorted thereto by her neighbours, but only upon God for Jesus Christ's sake; and because she said in like manner that if she herself had been in the time of Virgin Mary, God might have looked to her humilty and base estate, as he did to the Virgin's, in making her the mother of Christ: thereby meaning, that there was no merit in the Virgin, which procured her the honour to be made mother of Christ, and to be preferred before other women; but only God's free mercy exalted her to that estate. These words were counted most execrable in the face of all the clergy, and of the whole multi- tude. James Raveleson building a house, set upon the round of his fourth pair of stairs the triple crown of the pope in carved work, which the cardinal took as done in derision of St. Peter, the pope, and himself; and this procured no favour to James at his hands. These persons, on the morrow after St. Paul's day, were condemned to death, and that by an assize, for violating the act of parliament, for reasoning and confer- ring upon scripture, for eating flesh upon days forbidden, for inter- rupting the holy friar in the pulpit, for dishonouring images, and blaspheming the Virgin Mary. After sentence was given, their hands were bound, and they were cruelly treated; all but the woman; when she desired likewise to be bound by the sergeants with her husband for the sake of Christ. There was great intercession made by the people of the town to the governor for the life of these persons, and he seemed will- ing so to have done, that they might have been delivered. But the gover- nor was so subject to the tyranny of the cruel priests, that he could not do that which he would. They even menaced to assist his enemies and to depose him, except he assisted their cruelty. There were certain PAGE 428 priests in the city who had eaten and drunken before in the honest men's houses and were much indebted to them. These priests were earnestly desired to intreat for their friends at the cardinal's hands; but alto- gether refused, desiring rather their death than their preservation. In fact no means could be found to save them, and they were carried by a great band of armed men to the place of execution, which was common to the worst criminals, and that to make their cause appear more odious to the people. Robert Lambe made his exhortations to the people, desiring them to fear God, and leave the leaven of papistical abominations. He prophesied of the ruin and plague which came upon the cardinal thereaft- er. The rest were also firm and resigned, so that every one comforting another, and assuring themselves that they should sup together in the kingdom of heaven that night, they commended their souls to God, died in the Lord, and were truly blessed. The woman desired earnestly to die with her husband, but she was not allowed; yet, following him to the place of execution, she gave him comfort, exhorting him to perseverance and patience for Christ's sake, and parting from him with a kiss, said: "Husband, rejoice, for we have lived together many joyful days; but this day, in which we must die, ought to be the most joyful unto us both, because we must have joy for ever; therefore I will not bid you good night, for we shall very very soon meet with joy in the kingdom of heaven." The woman was taken to a place to be drowned, and though she had a child sucking on her breast, yet this moved not the unmerciful hearts of her enemies. So after she had commended her children to the neighbours of the town for God's sake, and the sucking infant was given to the nurse, she sealed the truth by her death. The reader will now be introduced to George Wishart, or Wisehart, another Scottish martyr, who suffered in 1546 at St. Andrews; but before we enter upon the examina- tion of this bright luminary of the church of Christ, we will give a testimonial of his manners, written by one of his scholars to Mr. Fox. He was commonly called Mr. George, of Bennet's college, was a man of tall stature, bald-headed, and wore a round French cap: judged to be of melancholy complexion by his physiognomy, black-haired, long-bearded, comely of personage, well spoken after his country of Scotland, cour- teous, lowly, lovely, glad to teach, desirous to learn, and was well travelled, wearing never but a mantle of frieze gown to the shoes, and plain black hose, coarse canvass for his shirts, and white falling bands. All this apparel he gave to the poor, some weekly, some monthly, some quarterly, as he liked, saving his French cap, which he kept at least a whole year. He was modest and temperate, fearing God and hating covetousness; his charity had never end, night, noon, nor day; he for- bare one meal in three, one day in four, for the most part, except what was necessary to sustain nature. He lay upon straw, and coarse canvass sheets, which when he changed he gave away. He had commonly by his bed-side a tub of water, in which he used to bathe himself. He taught the young with great modesty and gravity. Some of his people thought him severe, and would have slain him, but the Lord was his defence. And he, after due correction for their malice, by good exhortation amended PAGE 429 them and went his way. His learning was no less sufficient than his desire; always pressed and ready to do good in that he was able, both in the house privately and in the school publicly, professing and reading divers authors. If we should declare his love to all men, his charity to the poor, in giving, relieving, caring, helping, providing, yea, infi- nitely studying how to do good unto all, and hurt to none, we should sooner want words than just cause to commend him. This is the testimony of a young servant and friend of the name of Tylney, who knew Wishart well, and who was every way worthy of credit and confidence. Wishart was by birth a Scotchman, but received his education at Cambridge. The year before his death he returned to his own country, and on his way preached in many places against idolatry. He made some stay at Dundee; but by means of Beaton he was expelled thence, and at his departure, he denounced heavy judgment on them for rejecting the gospel. He then went and preached in many other places, and entrance to the churches being denied him, he preached in the fields. He would not suffer the people to open the church doors by violence, for that he said became not the gospel of peace which he preached. He heard the plague had broken out in Dundee, within four days after he was banished; so he returned thither, and took care of the sick, and did all the offices of a faithful pastor among them. He shewed his gentleness towards his enemies, by rescuing a priest who coming to kill him, but was discovered, and was almost torn in pieces by the people. He foretold several extraordinary things; particularly his own sufferings, and the spread of the reformation over the land. He preached last in Lothian, and there the earl of Bothwell took him, but promised upon his honour that no harm should be done him; yet he delivered him to the cardinal, who brought him to St. Andrews, and called a meeting of bishops thither to destroy him with the more solemnity. While imprisoned in the castle, the dean of St. Andrews was sent by the cardinal to summon him to appear before the judge on the following morning, to render an account of his seditous and heretical doctrine, as they termed it. Wishart answered - "What need my lord cardinal to summon me, when I am thus in his power and bound in irons? Can he not compel me to answer; or does he believe that I am unprovided with the means of defending my doctrine? But to manifest yourselves, ye do well to keep your old ceremonies and constitutions made by men." The next morning, the lord cardinal caused his servants to clothe and arm themselves in their warlike array, with jack, knapskal, splent, spear, and axe, more seeming for the battle, than for defending the true word of God. When the procession of these armed champions marching in warlike order had conveyed the bishops into the abbey church, they sent for Wishart, who was conducted into church by the captain of the castle accompanied by a hundred men thus equipped, like a lamb led to the sacrifice. As he entered the abbey church door, there was a poor man lying, vexed with great infirmities, asking of him alms, to whom he flung his purse. And when he came before the lord cardinal, the superior of the abbey, called dean John Winryme, stood up in the pulpit, and made a sermon to all the congregation, taking his matter out of the 13th PAGE 430 chapter of Matthew, and dividing his sermon into four principal parts. The first part was a brief and short declaration of the Evangelist. The second, part of the interpretation of the good seed. He called the word of God the good seed, and heresy the evil seed, and declared how heresy should be known; which he defined thus; "Heresy is a false opinion defended with pertinacy, clearly impugning the word of God." The third part of the sermon was, the cause of heresy in that realm and all other realms. "The cause of heresy, is the ignorance of them which have the cure of men's souls: to whom it belongeth to have the true understanding of the word of God, that they may be able to refute heresies with the word of God; as saith St. Paul: "A bishop must be faultless, as becometh the minister of God, not stubborn nor angry, no drunkard, no fighter, not given to filthy lucre, but one that loveth goodness, soberminded, righteous, holy, temperate, and that cleaveth to the true word, that he may be able to exhort with wholesome learning, and to answer that which they say against him." The fourth part was, how heresies should be known. "Heresies are known after this manner; as the goldsmith knoweth fine gold by the touchstone; so likewise may we know heresy by the undoubted touchstone, the true and undefiled word of God." At last he added, that heretics should be put down in this present life. Here he faultered, because the gospel said, "Let both grow together till the harvest," and "The harvest is the end of the world." Nevertheless, he affirmed that they should be put down by the civil magistrate and law in this life. When he ended his sermon, they caused Wishart to ascend the pulpit, there to hear his accusation and articles. Over against him stood one of the fed flock, John Lauder, laden full of cursings written on paper. Of these he took out a roll, both long and also full of devil- ish spite and malice, saying to the innocent George so many cruel and abominable words, and striking him so spitefully with the pope's thun- der, that the ignorant people dreaded lest the earth would have swal- lowed him up quick. Notwithstanding he stood still with great patience, hearing the dreadful sayings, not once moving or changing his coun- tenance. When Lauder had read throughout his menacings, he spat in Wishart's face, saying, "What answerest thou to these sayings, thou runagate, traitor, which we have duly proved thee to be by sufficient witness?" Wishart hearing this, kneeled down in the pulpit, making his prayer to God. When he had ended his prayer, sweetly and christianly, he answered as follows:- "Many horrible sayings unto me a Christian man, many words abominable to hear, ye have spoken this day, which not only to teach, but also to think, must be great abomination. Wherefore I pray your discretion quietly to hear me, that ye may know what were my say- ings, and the manner of my doctrine. This my petition, my lord, I desire to be heard for three causes. First, because by means of preaching the word of God, his glory is made manifest. It is reasonable therefore, for advancing the glory of God, that ye hear me, teaching truly, as I do, the pure word of God without any dissimulation. Second, because your health springeth of the word of God; for he worketh all things by his word. It were therefore an unrighteous thing if ye should stop your ears PAGE 431 from me, teaching truly the word of God. Third, because you utter many blasphemous and abominable words, not coming of the inspiration of God, but of the devil, with no less peril than of my life. It is just there- fore and reasonable, that your discretion should know what my words and doctrine are, and what I have ever taught in this realm, that I perish not unjustly to the great peril of your souls. Wherefore both for the glory and honour of God, your own health, and safeguard of my life, I beseech your patience to hear me, and in the mean time I shall recite my doctrine without any colour." "Since the time I came into this realm, I taught nothing but the ten commandments of God, the twelve articles of the faith, and the prayer of the Lord in the mother tongue. Moreover, in Dundee, I taught the epistle of St. Paul to the Romans. And I shall shew you faithfully what manner I used when I taught without any human dread; so that your discretion give your ears benevolence and attention." This was more than his enemies could endure, and with a high voice the accus- er cried out, "Thou heretic, runagate, traitor, and thief, it was not lawful for thee to preach. Thou hast taken the power in thine own hand, without any authority of the church. We forethink that thou hast been a preacher so long." Then all the congregation of the prelates, with their accomplices, said: "If we give him licence to preach, he is so crafty, and in the Holy Scriptures so exercised, that he will persuade the people to his opinion, and raise them against us." Seeing their mali- cious and wicked intent, Wishart appealed from the lord cardinal to the lord governor, as to an indifferent and equal judge. To whom Lauder answered, "Is not my lord cardinal the second person within this realm, chancellor of Scotland, archbishop of St. Andrews, bishop of Meropois, commendator of Aberbroshok, Legatus natus, Legatus `a Latere?" thus reciting all his unworthy honours. "Is not he an equal judge of thy cause and conduct? what other desirest thou to be thy judge!" "I refuse not my lord Cardinal," said Wishart, "but I desire the word of God to be my judge, and the temporal estate, with some of your lordships mine auditors, because I am here my lord governor's prisoner." Whereupon the proud and scornful people that stood by, mocked him, saying "Such man, such judge! speaking seditious and reproachful words against the gover- nor and other nobles meaning them also to be heretics." Then without delay and without further process they would have given sentence upon him, had not certain men present counselled the Cardinal to read again the articles, and to hear his answers thereupon, that the people might not complain of his unjust condemnation. These were the articles fol- lowing, with his answers, so far as they would give him leave to speak. For when he intended to mitigate their falsehoods, and shew the manner of his doctrine, they stopped his mouth with some new charge. Thus ran their bitter invectives- "Thou false heretic, runagate, traitor, and thief, deceiver of the people, thou despisest the holy church, and contemnest my lord governor's authority. And this we know, that when thou didst preach in Dundee, and was charged by my lord's authority to desist, nevertheless thou wouldst not obey, but persevered in the same; and therefore the bishop of Brothen cursed thee, and delivered thee into PAGE 432 the devil's hands, and gave thee in commandment that thou should preach no more: notwithstanding, thou didst continue obstinately." Wishart availed himself of a pause and said - "My lords, I have read in the Acts of the Apostles, that it is not lawful to desist from preaching the gospel for the threats and menaces of men. There it is written, 'We should rather obey God than man.' I have also read in the prophet Malachi, 'I shall curse your blessings, and bless your cursings;' and I believe firmly that the Lord will turn your cursing into blessings." No longer could he speak, for they cried out - "Thou false heretic didst say that the priest, standing at the altar saying mass, was like a fox wagging his tail in July." Wishart answered - "My lords, I said not so, these were my sayings - The moving of the body outward, without the inward moving of the heart, is nought else but the playing of an ape, and not the true serving of God: for God is a secret searcher of men's hearts; therefore whoever will truly adore and honour God, must in spirit and verity serve and worship him." Again they sought a new charge, and said - "Thou preachedst against the sacrament, saying, that there were not seven sacraments." To this absurdity he replied with caution and wisdom - "My lords, if it be your pleasure, I never taught the number of the sacraments, whether they were seven or eleven. So many as are instituted by Christ are shewed to us by the evangelists, and all these I profess openly. Except it be the word of God, I dare affirm nothing." Without striving to refute him, they railed again - "Thou hast openly taught that auricular confession is not a blessed sacrament, and sayest that we should only confess to God, and not to any priest." To this he answered - "My lords, I say that auricular confession, seeing that it hath no promise of the gospel, it therefore cannot be a sacra- ment. Of the confession to be made to God, there are many testimonies in scripture, as when David saith, 'I said I would acknowledge mine iniquity unto the Lord, and he forgave the punishment of my sin.' In this Psalm xxxii, David's confession signifieth the secret knowledge of our sins before God. When I exhorted the people in this manner I reproved no manner of confession; but I taught what St. James saith, 'Acknowledge your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that you may be healed.' 'On his speaking thus cautiously, the bishops and their accomplices cried and grinned, saying - "See ye not what colour he hath in his speaking, that he may beguile and seduce us to his opinion?" One of them said, "Heretic, thou didst say openly, that it was necessary to every man to know and understand his baptism, and what it was, con- trary to general councils and the estate of the holy church." He answered - "My lords, I believe there be none so unwise here that will make merchandise with a Frenchman, or any other unknown stranger, except he know and understand first the condition or promise made by such foreigners: so likewise I would that we understood what thing we promise in the name of the infant unto God in baptism. For this cause I believe ye have confirmation." Bleiter, the chaplain, then furiously interposed, and insinuated that he had the devil within him, and the spirit of error. On which a little child who was present, and heard the chaplain, PAGE 433 said, "The devil cannot speak such words as yonder man doth speak." This enraged his foes to madness, and one cried out - "Heretic, traitor, thief, thou saidst that the sacrament of the altar was but a piece of bread baked upon the ashes, and no other thing; and that all which is there done is but a superstitious rite against the commandment of God." To this abuse he boldly replied thus - "As concerning the sacrament of the altar, my lords, I never taught any thing against the Scripture, which I shall, by God's grace make manifest this day, being ready there- fore to suffer death." No one interposing, he went on - "The lawful use of the sacrament is most acceptable unto God; but the great abuse of it is very detestable unto him. But what occasion they have to say such words of me, I shall shortly shew your lordships. I once chanced to meet with a Jew when I was sailing upon the Rhine. I did enquire of him what was the cause of his pertinacy, that he did not believe that the true Messiah was come, considering that he had seen all the prophecies which were spoken of him to be fulfilled. Moreover the prophecies taken away, and the sceptre of Judah departed; and by many other testimonies of scripture I convinced him that Messiah was come, whom they called Jesus of Nazareth. This Jew answered me that 'when the Messiah cometh, he shall restore all things, and he shall not abrogate the law, which was given to our forefathers, as ye do. For why? ye see the poor almost perish through hunger amongst you; yet you are not moved with pity toward them: but amongst us, though we be poor Jews, there are no beg- gars found.' "It is forbidden by the law to feign any kind of imagery of things in heaven above, or in the earth beneath, or in the sea under the earth; but one God only is to be honoured: while your sanctuaries and churches are full of idols. Moreover, I must repeat what the Jew said, that a peace of bread baked upon the ashes ye adore and worship, and say, that is your God. I have rehearsed here but the sayings of the Jew, which I never affirmed to be true." Some one replied - "Thou saidst, that extreme unction was not a sacrament." He denied the charge, "I never taught any thing of extreme unction in my doctrine, whether it were a sacrament or not." Again they accused him - "Thou saidst that holy water is not so good as wash, and such like. Thou condemnest conjuring, and saidst holy churches' cursings avail not." To this he was as usual quick in answering - "As for holy water, what strength it is of I never taught in my doctrine. Conjurings, and exorcisms, if they are conformable to the word of God, I would commend them; but insomuch as they are not conformable to the commandment and word of God, I reprove them." Again - "Heretic and runagate, thou hast said, that every layman is a priest, and such like; thou saidst that the pope had no more power than any other man." Wishart now felt great need of prudence, and said - "My lords, I have taught nothing but the word of God; I remember that I have read in some places in St. John, and St. Peter, 'He hath made us kings and priests,' and 'He hath made us a royal priesthood.' Wherefore I have affirmed that any man wise in the word of God, and the true faith of Jesus Christ, hath this power given him from God; not by the power or violence of men, but by the virtue of the word of God, which word is called the power of God, as St. Paul witnesseth evidently enough. And again I say, that any unlearned man, not exercised in the word of God, nor yet constant in his faith, whatsoever estate or order he be of, I say, he hath no power to bind or loose, seeing he wanteth the instru- ment, by which he bindeth or looseth; that is to say, the word of God." After he had uttered this admirable speech, all the bishops laughed and mocked him. "Laugh ye, my lords?" said he; "though these sayings appear scornful and worthy of derision to your lordships, nevertheless they are very weighty to me, and of great value, because they stand not only upon myself, but also the honour and glory of God." While many godly men beholding the obstinacy and cruelty of the bishops and invincible patience of Wishart, greatly mourned and lamented, his implacable foes added to their impieties and insults, and cried out - "False heretic, thou saidst that a man hath no free will, but like as the stoics say, that it is not in man's will to do any thing, but that all cometh by God, whatsoever kind it be of." To which he wisely answered "My lords, I said not so, truly; but I said that as many as believe in Christ firmly, unto them is given freedom, conformable to the saying of St. John - 'If the Son make you free, then shall ye verily be free.' Of the contrary, as many as believe not in Christ Jesus, they are bondservants of sin - 'He that sinneth is bound to sin.'" "Thou saidst," they exclaimed again, "it is as lawful to eat flesh upon the Friday as on Sunday." With another firm appeal to scripture, he replied - "I have read in the epis- tles of St. Paul, that 'Whoso is clean, unto him all things are clean.' On the contrary, 'To the filthy man all things are unclean.' A faithful man, clean and holy, sanctifieth by the word the creature of God; but the creature maketh no man acceptable unto God. So that a creature may not sanctify any impure and unfaithful man; but to the faithful man all things are sanctified by the word of God and prayer." At this all the bishops, with their accomplices, said - "What need we any witness against him? hath he not here openly spoken blasphemy? Heretic, thou dost say, that we should not pray to saints, but to God only. Say whether thou hast said this or not?" To which he answered - "My lord there are two things worthy of note; the one is certain, the other uncertain. It is found plainly and certain in scripture, that we should worship and honour one God, according to the saying of the first com- mandment, thou shalt worship and honour thy Lord God only, with all thy heart. As for praying to and honouring saints, there is great doubt among many whether they hear or not any invocation made unto them. Therefore I exhorted all men equally in my doctrine, that they should leave the uncertain way, and follow that way which was taught us by our master Christ. He is the only mediator, and alone maketh intercession for us to God his father. He is the door by which we must enter in: he that entereth not by this door, but climbeth another way, is a thief and PAGE 435 a murderer. He is the verity and life. Every one that goeth out of this way, there is no doubt but he shall fall into the mire; yea verily, is fallen into it already. This is the fashion of my doctrine, which I have ever followed. Verily, that which I have heard and read in the word of God I taught openly, and in no corners. And now ye shall witness the same, if your lordships will hear me. Except it stand by the word of God, I dare not be so bold as to affirm any thing." Without attempting to answer these scriptural testimonies and appeals, his enemies multi- plied their absurd accusations, and said - "Thou hast preached plainly, saying there is no purgatory, and that it is a feigned thing for any man after this life to be punished in purgatory." Wishart reminded them of his former answers - "As I have said heretofore, without express witness and testimony of the scripture I dare affirm nothing. I have oft read over the bible, and yet such a term found I never, nor yet any place of scripture applicable to it. Therefore I was ashamed ever to teach that thing which I could not find in the scripture." Then said he to Lauder, his accuser - "If you have any testimony of the scripture, by which you may prove any such place, shew it now before this auditory." Lauder had not a word to say for himself, but was as dumb as a beetle, except in devising a fresh charge. This was - "Thou hast taught against the vows of monks, friars, nuns, and priests; saying that whosoever was bound to such vows, vowed themselves to the estate of damnation. Moreover, that it was lawful for priests to marry." In answer, he again appealed to scripture - "My lords, I have read in the gospel, that there are three kinds of chaste men: 'some are eunuchs from their birth; some are made such by men; and some make themselves such for the kingdom of heaven's sake.' Verily, I say these men are blessed by the scripture of God. But as many as have not the gift of continence, nor yet for the gospel's sake have overcome the concupiscence of the flesh, and have vowed chas- tity, ye have experience, although I should hold my peace, to what inconvenience they have vowed themselves." When he had said these words they were all dumb for a time, and then one broke out and said - "False heretic, thou sayest thou wilt not obey our general nor provincial councils." Once more he took the sword of the Spirit: "My lords, what your general councils are I know not, I was never exercised in them; but to the pure word of God I gave my labours. Read here your general coun- cils, or else give me a book wherein they are contained, that I may read them: if they agree with the word of God, I will not dispute or disobey them." Upon this they cried out - "Why do we suffer him to speak further? Read on the rest of the articles, and do not stay upon them." Among the rest, John 'Grey-fiend' Scot, standing behind Lauder's chair, hastened him to read the rest of the articles, and not to tarry upon answers. "For we may not abide them," quoth he, "any more than the devil may abide the sign of the cross, when it is made." Then he turned to Wishart - "Thou sayest, that it is in vain to build to the honour of God costly churches, seeing that God remaineth not in the churches made with men's hands, nor yet can God be in so little space as between the priest's hands." He had now a sublime reply at hand - "My lords, Solomon PAGE 436 saith, 'If that the heaven of heavens cannot comprehend thee, how much less this house that I have built?' and Job consenteth to the same sentence: 'Seeing that he is higher than the heavens, therefore what canst thou build unto him? He is deeper than hell, then how shalt thou know him? He is longer than the earth and broader than the sea.' So that God cannot be comprehended in any one place, because he is infinite. Notwithstanding, I never said that churches should be destroyed; but the contrary, I affirm ever, that churches should be sustained and upholden, that the people should be congregated into them, there to hear of God. Moreover, wheresoever is the true preaching of the word of God, and the lawful use of the sacraments, undoubtedly there is God himself: so that both these sayings are true together; God cannot be comprehended in any place, and wheresoever two or three are gathered together in his name, there he is present in the midst of them. If you think otherwise, show forth reasons before this auditory." Then Lauder, not answering one word, proceeded forth in his articles - "False heretic, thou contemneth fasting, and sayest thou didst not fast." Wishart could here be at no loss with scripture and reason before him - "My lords, I find that fast- ing is commended in the scripture; therefore I were a slanderer of the gospel, if I condemned fasting. And not so only, but I have learned, that fasting is good for the health of the body: but God knoweth who fasteth the true fast." Lauder proceeded - "Thou hast preached openly, saying, that the soul of man shall sleep till the latter day of judg- ment, and shall not obtain life immortal until that day." At this foul charge, Wishart was indignant, and said - "God full of mercy and good- ness forgive them that say such things of me; I know surely by the word of God, that he which hath begun to have the faith of Jesus Christ, and believeth firmly in him, believeth that the soul of man shall never sleep, but ever shall live an immortal life; which life, from day to day, is renewed in grace and augmented; nor yet shall ever perish or have an end, but ever immortal shall live with Christ. To which life all that believe in him shall come, and rest in eternal glory. Amen." When the bishops with their accomplices had thus accused this innocent man, they next condemned him to be burnt as a heretic, not having respect to his godly answers and true reasons which he alleged, nor yet to their own consciences, thinking verily that they should do to God good sacri- fice, conformable to the saying of St. John - "They shall excommunicate you: yea, and the time shall come that he which killeth you shall think that he hath done God service." First they made the common people, whose desire was always to hear that innocent man speak, to disperse, after which these sons of darkness pronounced their sentence definitive, not having respect to the judgment of God. When all this was done and said, the cardinal caused his warders to return again with the prisoner into the castle, until such time as the fire was made ready. When he arrived at the castle there came Friar Scot and his mate, saying, "Sir, you must make your confession unto us." "I will make no confession unto you," replied Wishart; "go fetch me yonder man that preached this day, and I PAGE 437 will make my confession unto him." Then they sent for the sub-prior of the abbey, who came to him with all diligence; but what was said in this confession is unknown. When the fire was made ready, and the gallows at the west part of the castle near to the priory, the lord cardinal, dreading that Wishart should have been taken away by his friends, com- manded to bend all the ordnance of the castle right against that part, and all his gunners to be ready and stand beside their guns, until such time as he was burned. All this being done, they bound the martyr's hands behind him, and led him forth with their soldiers from the castle to the place of execution. As he came out of the castle gate, there met him certain beggars, asking alms for God's sake; to whom he answered, "I want my hands wherewith to give you alms, but the merciful Lord, of his benignity and abundance of grace that feedeth all men, vouchsafe to give you necessaries both unto your bodies and souls." Then afterwards met him two fiends, called friars, saying, "Master George, pray to our lady, that she may be mediatrix for you to her Son." To whom he answered meekly, "Cease, tempt me not, my brethren." After this he was led to the fire with a rope about his neck, and a chain of iron for his girdle. When he came to the fire he sunk down upon his knees, rose again, and thrice he repeated these words:- "O thou Saviour of the world, have mercy on me. Father of heaven, I commend my spirit into thy holy hands." Then he turned him to the people and said - "I beseech you, Christian brethren and sisters, that ye be not offended with the word of God for the affliction and torments which ye see prepared for me; but I exhort you that you love the word of God, and suffer patiently and with a comfortable heart for the word's sake, which is your undoubted salvation and everlasting comfort. Moreover, I pray you shew my brethren and sisters, which have heard me oft before, that they cease not, nor leave off the word of God which I taught them, after the grace given to me, for any persecutions or troubles in this world, which last not; and shew unto them that my doctrine was no old wives' fable, after the constitu- tion made by men. Had I taught men's doctrine, I had gotten great thanks by men; but for the word's sake and the true gospel, which was given to me by the grace of God, I suffer this day by men, not sorrowfully, but with a glad heart and mind. For this cause I was sent, that I should suffer this fire for Christ's sake. Consider and behold my visage, ye shall not see me change my colour. This grim fire I fear not. If any persecution come to you for the word's sake, do not fear them that slay the body, and afterward have no power to slay the soul. Some have said of me that I have taught that the soul of man should sleep until the last day; but I know surely, and my faith is such, that my soul shall sup with my Saviour Christ this night, ere it be six hours, for whom I suffer this. I beseech thee, Father of Heaven, to forgive them that have of any ignorance or of any evil mind forged lies upon me; for I forgive them with all my heart. I beseech Christ to forgive them that have condemned me to death this day ignorantly; and, last of all, I beseech you brethren and sisters, to exhort your prelates to the learning of the word of God, that they at the last may be ashamed to do evil, and learn to do good. And if they will not convert themselves from their wicked PAGE 438 error, there shall hastily come upon them the wrath of God, which they shall not eschew." Many other faithful words said he in the mean time, taking no heed or care of the cruel torments which were then prepared for him. At last the hangman fell upon his knees and said - "I pray you forgive me, for I am not guilty of your death." He answered - "Come hither to me." When he was come to him, he kissed his cheek, and said, "Lo! there is a token that I forgive thee. My heart, do thine office;" and presently he was put upon the gibbet and hanged, and there burnt to ashes. The people beheld the glorious exit of this triumphant martyr with sentiments of mingled wonder, sorrow, and indignation. The clergy rejoiced much at his death, and extolled the courage of the cardinal, for proceeding in it against the orders of the governor. But the people looked on Wishart as a martyr and a prophet. It was also said that his death was nothing less than murder, since no writ had been obtained for it; and the clergy had no right to burn any one without a warrant from the secular power. It was therefore inferred that the cardinal deserved to die for his presumtpion; for if his dignity set him above the law, then private persons might execute that which the governor could not do. Such practices had been formerly too common in the kingdom; and upon this occasion some gentlemen of quality began to think it would be an heroical action to conspire his death. His insolence had rendered him generally hateful; thus public and private resentment concurring, twelve persons entered into an engagement to kill the cardinal privately in his house. On the 30th of May, they surprized the gate early in the morning; and though there were a hundred men in the castle, yet being all asleep, they came to them apart, and either turned them out, or shut them up in their chamber. Having made all sure, they proceeded to the cardinal's chamber; who, perceiving they had a design upon his life, exclaimed, "Alas! alas! slay me not, I am a priest:" but paying as little regard to him as he had done to Wishart, they immediately slew him, and laid out his body in the same window from which he had looked on Wishart's execu- tion. Some justified this act, as the killing of a robber and murderer; but it was generally condemned; yet the accomplishment of Wishart's prediction made great impression on the people. Before we return to our English history, we shall proceed with an account of the Scottish mar- tyrs who suffered at this time, and the few following years. The violent death of cardinal Beaton was expected to put a stop to all such proceed- ings; but his successor unhappily resolved to continue them. The famous, or rather infamous, John Hamilton succeeded to the archbishopric of St. Andrews, who, in the spirit of persecution, was not a jot inferior to his predecessor. The year following his elevation, he brought to judg- ment and martyrdom Adam Wallace. This excellent man was brought on a charge of heresy into a court assembled at the Black Friar's Church in Edinburgh, composed of many dignitaries and nobles in Scotland. Among them were the dean of Glasgow; the archbishop of St. Andrew's; the bishops of Dunblane and Moray; the abbots of Dunfermline and Glenluce; with other churchmen of lower estimation, as the official of St. An- drew's and some doctors of that city. The earl of Argyle, the justice, PAGE 439 with his deputy sir John Campbell; the earls of Huntley and Angus; the bishop of Galloway; the prior of St. Andrews; the bishop of Orkney; the lord Forbes; dean John Winryme, sub-prior of St. Andrews, were also present; and behind the seats stood the whole senate, the clerk of the register, and other officers of the court. At the further end of the chancelary wall, in the pulpit, was John Lauder, accuser, clad in a surplice and red hood, while a large congregation of the people were in the body of the church, standing on the ground. Before the examination of Wallace, John Ker, prebendary of St. Gile's church, was accused, convicted, and condemned, for the making and giving forth a sentence of divorce, whereby he falsely put asunder a man and his lawful wife, in the name of the dean of Restalrige, and certain other judges appointed by the holy father the pope. He confessed the falsehood, and that never any such thing was done indeed, nor yet meant or moved by the aforesaid judges. His sentence was to be banished the realms of Scotland and Engalnd for his lifetime, and to lose his right hand if here found there after, and in the mean time to forfeit his benefices for ever, and they to be vacant. Adam Wallace was then introduced by a servant of the bishop of St. Andrews, set in the midst of the scaffold, and commanded to look to the accuser. He was a man of simple and humble appearance, but was by no means daunted by the grandeur of his judges. On being asked his name, he answered, "Adam Wallace." The accuser said he had another name, which he granted and said he was commonly called Fean. Then he asked, where he was born? "Within two miles of Fayle," said he, "in Kyle." Then said the accuser, "I repent that such a poor man as you should put these noble lords to so great encumbrance this day by your vain speaking." "I must speak," said he, "as God giveth me grace; and I believe I have said no evil to hurt any body." "Would to God," said the accuser, "ye had never spoken; but you are brought forth for such horri- ble crimes of heresy, as never were imagined nor heard of in this coun- try before, and shall be sufficiently proved, that ye cannot deny them; and I forethink that they should be punished for hurting of weak con- sciences. Now I will say no more, but thou shalt hear the points against thee. "Adam Wallace, alias Fean; thou art openly accused for preaching and teaching of the blasphemies and abominable heresies underwritten:- In the first, thou hast said and taught that the bread and wine on the altar, after the words of consecretion, are not the body and blood of Christ." On this Wallace turned to the lord governor, and the whole court, saying - "I never said, nor taught any thing but what I found in this book (having a Bible at his belt in French, Dutch, and English), which is the word of God; and if you will be content that the Lord God be judge to me, and this his holy writ, here it is; and wherein I have said wrong, I shall take that punishment you put me to; for I never said any thing concerning this that I am accused of, but that which I found in this blessed book." "What didst thou say?" said the accuser. "I said," quoth he, "that after our Lord Jesus Christ had eaten the paschal lamb in his last supper with his apostles, and fulfilled the ceremonies PAGE 440 of the old law, he instituted a new sacrament, in remembrance of his death then to come. He took bread, he blessed, and brake it, and gave it to his disciples, and said - 'Take ye, eat ye, this is my body which shall be broken and given for you.' And likewise the cup he blessed, and bade them drink all thereof, for that was the cup of the New Testament which should be shed for the forgiving of many. 'How oft ye do this, do it in my remembrance.'" Then said the bishop of St. Andrew's, the official of Lothian, and others, "We know this well enough." The earl of Huntley said, "Thou answerest not to that which is laid to thee; say either nay or yea thereto." He answered, "If ye will admit God and his word spoken by the mouth of his blessed son Jesus Christ our Lord and Saviour, ye will admit that which I have said: for I have said and taught nothing but what the word, which is the trial and touchstone, saith; which ought to be judge to me, and to all the world. "Why," said the earl, again, "hast thou not a judge good enough? and thinkest thou that we know not God and his word? Answer to what is spoken to thee." And then they made the accuser repeat the question. Wallace answered, "I never said more than the word saith, nor yet more than I have said before. For I know well by St. Paul when he saith, 'Whosoever eateth this bread and drinketh of this cup unworthily, receiveth to himself damnation.' And therefore when I taught - which was but seldom, and to them only which required and desired me - I said, that if the sacrament of the altar were truly ministered, and used as the Son of the living God did institute it, where that was done, there was God himself by his divine power, by which he is over all." The bishop of Orkney then asked him, "Believest thou not that the bread and wine in the sacrament of the altar, after the words of the consecration, is the very body of Christ, flesh, blood, and bone?" To which he answered - "I know not what the word consecration meaneth. I have not much Latin, but I believe that the Son of God was conceived of the Holy Ghost, and born of the Virgin Mary, and hath a natural body, with hands, feet, and other members; and in the same body he walked up and down in the world, preached and taught, suffered death under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried, and that by his godly power he raised that same body again the third day; and the same body ascended into Heaven, and sitteth at the right hand of the Father, which shall come again to judge both the quick and the dead. I moreover believe that this body is a natural body with hands and feet, and cannot be in two places at once; this he sheweth well himself; for the which everlasting thanks be to him that maketh this matter clear. When the woman brake the ointment on him, answering to some of his disciples which grudged thereat, he said, 'The poor shall you always have with you, but me ye shall not have always,' meaning his natural body. And likewise at his ascension said he to the same disci- ples that were fleshly, and would ever have had him remaining with them corporeally, 'It is needful for you that I pass away; for if I pass not away, the Comforter the Holy Ghost shall not come to you,' meaning that PAGE 441 his natural body behoved to be taken away from them: 'but be stout and be of good cheer, for I am with you always, unto the world's end.' Thus you must see that the eating of his very flesh profiteth not, as may well be known by his words which he spake in the sixth of John; where, after he had said, 'Except ye eat my flesh, and drink my blood, ye shall not have life in you,' they murmuring thereat, he reproved them for their gross and fleshly taking of his words, and said, 'What will ye think when ye see the Son of man ascend to the place that he came from? It is the Spirit that quickeneth, the flesh profiteth nothing,' (to be eaten as they took it, and even so take ye it.") "It is a horrible heresy," said the bishop of Orkney. Then the accuser propounded the second article, and said to Wallace, "Thou saidst likewise, and openly didst teach, that the mass is very idolatry, and abominable in the sight of God." To this he ingeniously replied - "I have read the word of God in three tongues, and have understood them so far as God gave me grace, and yet never read I the word 'mass' in any; but I found that the thing which was highest and most in estimation among men, and not in the word of God, was idolatry, and abominable in his holy sight. And I say the mass is holden greatly in estimation, and high amongst men, and is not founded in the divine word; therefore I said it was idolatry, and abomi- nable in the sight of God. If any man will find it in the Scripture and prove it by God's word, I will grant mine error, and that I have failed; otherwise not. In that case I will submit to all lawful correction and punishment." "Ad tertiam," said the bishop. "To the third charge." Then said the accuser, "Thou hast said and openly taught, that the God which we worship is but bread sown of corn, growing of the earth, baked of men's hands, and nothing else." To this Wallace answered, "I worship the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, three persons in one Godhead, which made and fashioned the heaven and earth, and all that is therein, of nought. But I know not which God you worship; and if you will show me whom you worship, I will show you what he is as well as I can by my judgment." "Believest thou not," said the accuser, "that the sacrament of the altar, after the words of the consecration, by the priest's hands, is the very body and blood of the Son of God, and God himself?" - "What the body of God is," Wallace replied, "and what kind of body he hath, I have shewed you, so far as I have found in the scripture." Then said the accuser - "Thou has preached divers other great errors and abominable heresies against all the seven sacraments, which for short- ness of time I pretermit and overpass. Whether dost thou grant thy foresaid articles that thou art accused of, or no? and thou shalt hear them shortly." And then repeated the accuser the three articles afore- said shortly over, and asked him whether he granted or denied them? Wallace answered, that he had said nothing but what he thought to agree with the holy word, so God judge him, and his own conscience accuse him, and thereby would he abide unto the time he were better instructed by scripture, and the contrary proved, even to the death: and he said to the lord governor and the rest - "If you condemn me for holding by God's word, my blood shall be required at your hands, when ye shall be brought before the judgment seat of Christ, who is mighty to defend my innocent PAGE 442 cause; before whom ye shall not deny it, nor yet be able to resist its wrath, to whom I refer the vengeance, as it is written 'Vengeance is mine and I will reward.'" Then they gave sentence, and condemned him by the laws, and so left him to the secular power, in the hands of Sir John Campbell, justice deputy. He delivered him to the provost of Edinburgh to be burnt on the Castle hill, who put him in the uppermost house in the town, with irons about his legs and neck, and gave charge to Sir Hugh Terry to keep the key of the house. Terry was an ignorant man, and a creature of the bishops, and as directed, sent to the poor man two grey friars, to instruct him, with whom he would enter into no commun- ing. Soon after that were sent in two black friars, an English friar, and another subtle sophist, called Arbuthnot: with the English friar he would have reasoned and declared his faith by the scriptures; but he said he had no commission to enter into disputation with him, and so departed and left him. Then was sent to him a man, not ungodly in the understanding of the truth, the dean of Restalrige, who gave him chris- tian consolation, during which he exhorted him to believe the reality of the sacrament after the consecration; but he would consent to nothing that had not evidence in the holy scripture, and so passed over that night in singing, and praising God, to the ears of divers hearers, having learned the psalter of David without book, to his consolation: for they had before taken from him his bible, which always, till after he was condemned, was with him wherever he went. When Sir Hugh knew that he had certain books to read and comfort his spirit, he came in a rage and took them from him, and gave divers ungodly and injurious provoca- tions by his devilish venom, to pervert him from the patience and hope he had in Christ his Saviour: but God suffered him not to be moved therewith. All the next morning he remained in irons, and preparation was commanded to be made for his burning against the next day. On that day the lord governor, and all the principal both spiritual and temporal lords, departed from Edinburgh. He soon knew of their departure, when there came the dean of Restalrige to him again, and reasoned with him. But Wallace answered as before, that he would say nothing concerning his faith, but as the scriputre testifieth; yea, though an angel came from heaven to persuade him to the same; saving that he confessed himself to have received good consolation of the said dean in other behalf as becometh a christian. Then came in Sir Hugh Terry again, and examined him after his old manner, and said he would force devils to come forth of him before night. Wallace answered, "You should rather give me conso- lation in my case. When I knew you were come, I prayed God I might resist your temptations; which I thank him, he hath made me able to do; therefore I pray you let me alone in peace." Then he asked one of the officers that stood by - "Is your fire making ready?" who answered him it was. "As it pleaseth God," said Wallace, "I am ready soon or late as it shall please him;" and then he spoke to one true in that company, and bade him commend him to all the faithful, being sure to meet together with them in heaven. From that time, to his coming to the fire, no man spake with him. At his forthcoming, the provost with great menacing words forbade him to speak to any one, or any to him, as probably he had PAGE 443 commandment of his superiors. Coming from the town to the Castle-hill, the common people said, "God have mercy upon you!" "And on you too," said he. Being beside the fire, he lifted up his eyes to heaven twice or thrice, and said to the people, "Let it not offend you that I suffer death this day for the truth's sake; for the disciple is not greater than his master." On this the provost was angry that he spake. Then he looked up to heaven again, and said, "They will not let me speak." The cord being about his neck, the fire was lighted, and so he departed to God constantly, and with good countenance. About this time a remarkable schism took place in the Scotch church, relative to the Paternoster. Numbers of the clergy contending that it might be addressed to any saint in heaven; while the less superstitious urged it was proper to be recit- ed only to God. The first of these opinions, in all its extravagance and blasphemy, originated with a grey friar named Tottis, and the following distorted sophistry he used in supporting and defending it. "If we meet an old man in the street, we say to him, Good day, father! and, there- fore, much more may we call the saints our fathers; and because we grant, also, that they are in heaven, we may say to them - Our fathers, who art in heaven! God hath made their names holy, therefore may we say to any one of them - hallowed by thy name; and for the same cause, as they are in heaven, we may say to them - thy kingdom come. And except their will had been the will of God, they had never been there; conse- quently we may say - thy will be done." But when he came to the fourth petition - give us this day our daily bread, he was rather at a loss: he however got over his difficulty, saying, that although the saints cer- tainly could not themselves give us bread, yet they could intercede for us, and that we might consequently address the prayer unto them, that they might pray unto the Father in our behalf. Thus did he impiously gloss over the rest in like manner. Among other martyrs of Scotland, the constancy of Walter Mille is not to be passed over with silence. Out of his ashes sprang thousands of his opinion and religion in Scotland, who altogether chose rather to die than to be any longer trodden over by the tyranny of the bishops, abbots, monks, and friars: and so began the congregation of Scotland to debate the true religion of Christ against the Frenchmen and papists, who sought always to depress and keep them down. The martyrdom of Mille was brought on by the following events. In the year of our Lord, 1558, in the time of Mary, duchess of Longueville, queen regent of Scotland, and John Hamilton, bishop of St. Andrew's and primate of Scotland, Walter Mille, who in his youth had been a papist, after he had travelled to Germany, where he had heard the doctrine of the gospel, returned to Scotland, and, contrary to papal celibacy took to himself a wife, which made the bishops of Scotland suspect him of heresy; and after long watching him he was taken by two popish priests, namely, sir George Strachen, and sir Hugh Terry, servants to the said bishop, and imprisoned in the castle of St. Andrew's. While in confine- ment, the papists earnestly laboured to seduce him, and threatened him with torture and death, to the intent they might cause him to recant and PAGE 444 forsake the truth; but seeing they could profit nothing thereby, and that he remained firm and constant, they laboured to persuade him by fair promises, and offered him a monk's portion for the remainder of his life, in the abbey of Dunfermline, so that he would deny what he had taught, and grant that they were heresies: but he, continuing in the truth to the end, equally despised their threatenings and fair promises. Then assembled together the bishops of St. Andrew's, Moray, Brechin, Caithness, and Athens; the abbots of Dunfermline, Lindores, Balindrinot, and Cowpers; with doctors in theology of St. Andrew's, William Cranston, provost of the old college, with others, as sundry friars black and grey. These being assembled, and having consulted together, he was taken out of prison, and brought to the metropolitan church, where he was put in a pulpit before the bishops to be accused, the twentieth day of April. Being brought into the church, and climbing up into the pulpit, they seeing him so weak and feeble of person, partly by age and travel, partly by evil treatment, that without help he could not ascend, they were out of hope to have heard him for weakness of voice. But when he began to speak, he made the church to ring and echo, with so great courage and stoutness, that the christians which were present were no less rejoiced than his adversaries were confounded and ashamed. Being in the pulpit, on his knees at prayer, Andrew Oliphant, one of the bishop's chaplains, commanded him to rise and answer to the articles, saying on this manner - "Sir Walter Mille, rise and answer to the articles, for you hold my lord here over long." To whom Walter, after he had finished his prayer, answered, saying, "We ought to obey God more than man; I serve one more mighty, even the Omnipotent Lord; and I beseech you call me Walter, and not Sir Walter; I have been overlong one of the pope's knights. Now say what thou hast to say." Oliphant. What think you of priests' marriage? Mille. I hold it a blessed band: for Christ himself maintained it, and approved the same, and also made it free to all men; but you think it not free to you; ye abhor it, and in the mean time take other men's wives and daughters, and will not keep the band God hath made. Ye vow chastity and break the same. Saint Paul had rather marry than burn; the which I have done, for God never forbade marriage to any man, what state or degree soever he were. Oliphant. Thou sayst there be not seven sacraments. Mille. Give me the Lord's Supper and Baptism, and take you the rest, and part them among you. For if there be seven, why have you omitted one of them, to wit, marriage, and given yourselves to whoredom? Oliphant. Thou art against the blessed sacrament of the altar, and sayst that the mass is wrong, and is idolatry. Mille. A lord or a king sendeth and calleth many to a dinner, and when the dinner is in readiness, he causeth a bell to ring, and the men come to the hall, and sit down to be partakers of the dinner; but the lord, turning his back unto them, eateth all himself, and mocketh them: so do ye turn your PAGE 445 backs in the sacrament on the people you have invited. Oliphant. Thou deniest the sacrament of the altar to be the very body of Christ really in flesh and blood. Mille. The scripture of God is not to be taken carnally, but spiritually, and standeth in faith only; and as for the mass it is wrong, for Christ was once offered on the cross for man's trespass, and will never be offered again, for then he ended all sacri- fices. Oliphant. Thou deniest the office of a bishop. Mille. I affirm that they, whom ye call bishops, do no bishops' works; nor use the office of bishops, as Paul biddeth, writing to Timothy, but live after their own sensual pleasure, and take no care of the flock, nor yet regard they the word of God, but desire to be honoured and called, my lords. Oliphant. Thou spakest against pilgrimage, and calledst it a pilgrimage to whoredom. Mille. I affirm and say, that it is not com- manded in the scripture, and that there is no greater whoredom in any place, than at your pilgrimages, except it be in common brothels. Oliphant. Thou preachedst secretly and privately in houses, and openly in the fields. Mille. Yea, man, and on the sea also, sailing in a ship, as Christ did. Oliphant. Wilt thou not recant thy erroneous opinions? and if thou wilt not, I will pronounce sentence against thee. Mille. I am accused of my life; I know I must die once, and therefore as Christ said to Judas, what thou doest do quickly. Ye shall know that I will not recant the truth, for I am the corn, I am no chaff; I will not be blown away with the wind, nor burst with the flail; but I will abide both. These things rehearsed they, with other trifles, to augment their final accusation; and then sir Andrew Oliphant pronounced sentence against him, that he should be delivered to the temporal judge, and punished as a heretic, that is to be burnt. Notwithstanding, his boldness and con- stancy moved so the hearts of many, that the bishop's steward of his regality, provost of the town, called Patrick Lermond, refused to be his temporal judge, to whom it appertained, if the cause had been just. Also the bishop's chamberlain, being therewith charged, would in no wise take upon him so ungodly an office. Indeed the whole town was so offended with his unjust condemnation, that the bishop's servants could not purchase for their money so much as one cord to tie him to the stake, or a tar-barrel to burn him, but were constrained to cut the cords of their master's own pavilion to serve their turn. At last, however, there was one servant of the bishop's more ignorant and cruel than the rest, named Alexander Somervaile, ambitious of the office of a temporal judge in that part, who conveyed him to the fire, where, against all natural reason of man, his boldness and firmness did more and more increase, so that the Spirit of God working miraculously in him, made it manifest to the people, that his cause and articles were most just, and that he died innocently and in the Lord. All things being ready for his death, he was conducted by armed men to the fire. On arriving there, Oliphant bade him pass to the stake: but he said, "Nay, but wilt thou put me up with PAGE 446 thy hand and take part of my death? thou shalt see me pass up gladly; for by the law of God I am forbidden to put hands upon myself." Then Oliphant put him up with his hand, and he ascended gladly, saying, Introibo ad altare Dei, and desired that he might have space to speak to the people; the which Oliphant and other of the burners denied, because he had spoken overmuch, for the bishops were altogether offended that the matter was so long continued. Then some of the young men committed both the burners and the bishops their masters to the devil, remarking that they believed they should lament that day, and desired Walter to speak what he pleased. So after he made his humble supplication to God on his knees, he arose, and standing upon the coals said on this wise: "Dear friends, the cause why I suffer this day is not for any crime laid to my charge, albeit I be a miserable sinner before God, but only for the defence of the faith of Jesus Christ, set forth in the New and Old Testament unto us; for which as the faithful martyrs have offered them- selves gladly before, being assured after death of their bodies of eternal felicity; so this day I praise God that he hath called me of his mercy among the rest of his servants to seal up his truth with my life: which as I have received it of him, so willingly I offer it to his glory. Therefore as you will escape the eternal death, be no more se- duced with the lies of priests, monks, friars, priors, abbots, bishops, and the rest of the sect of Antichrist, but depend only upon Jesus Christ and his mercy, that ye may be delievered from condemnation." While he spake there was great mourning and lamentation of the multi- tude; who perceiving his patience, boldness, and constancy, were not only moved and stirred up, but their hearts also were so inflamed, that he was the last martyr that died in Scotland for the religion. After his prayer, he was hoisted up on the stake, and being in the fire, he said, "Lord have mercy on me; pray people whilst there is time:" and thus resigned his soul to Him who gave it. From Scotland we turn again to England, to the papal history of Henry VIII. This important reign, which draws near to a conclusion, is so replete with incidents, and the polit- ical and ecclesiastical affairs are so connected, that we entreat the reader to pardon the breaks and chasms he may observe, for were we to give this long chain of events link by link, as they stand in the pages of general history, we should too much swell the limited size of this work, which, be it remembered, is rather a history of individuals than of countries and general events. The next English martyrs who stand upon record are Kerby and Roger Clarke. They were apprehended at Ipswich, and brought before lord Wentworth, with other commissioners appointed there to sit upon their examinations. The night before they were arraigned, a bill was fixed upon the town-house door, by whom it was unknown, and brought the next day unto lord Wentworth; who answered, that it was good counsel to render them cautious and prudent. In the mean time, Kerby and Clarke, being in the house of the gaoler, whose name was Bird, there came in Mr. Robert Wingfield, son of Humfrey Wing- field, knight, with Mr. Bruess, of Wenham; who having conference with Kerby, Wingfield said to him, "Remember the fire is hot, take heed of PAGE 447 thine enterprise, that thou take no more upon thee than thou shalt be able to perform. The terror is great, the pain will be extreme, and life is sweet. Better it were betimes to stick to mercy, while there is hope of life, than rashly to begin, and then to shrink." Kerby answered - "Ah, Mr. Wingfield, be at my burning, and you shall say, there standeth a christian soldier in the fire: for I know that fire and water, sword and all other things, are in the hands of God, and he will suffer no more to be laid upon us than he will give strength to bear." "Ah, Kerby," said Mr. Wingfield, "if thou be at that point, I will bid thee farewell; for I promise thee I am not so strong that I am able to burn." And so both the gentlemen saying that they would pray for them, shook hands with them and departed. When Kerby and Clarke came to the judg- ment seat, where were present lord Wentworth, the commissary, and oth- ers, they lifted up their eyes and hands to heaven with great devotion, making their prayers secretly to God for a space of time. That done, their articles were declared to them with all circumstances of the law: and then it was demanded and required of them, whether they believed, that after the words spoken by a priest, as Christ spake them to his apostles, there were not the very body and blood of Christ, flesh, blood, and bone, as he was born of the Virgin Mary, and no bread after?" To this usual and sweeping question they answered - "No! We do not so believe; but we believe the sacrament which Christ Jesus instituted at his last supper to his disciples, was only to put them in remembrance of his precious death and blood-shedding for the remission of sins; and that there was neither flesh nor blood to be eaten with the teeth, but bread and wine, and yet more than bread and wine, for they are con- secrated to a holy use." Then with much persuasions, both with fair means and threats were they beset, but most at the hands of Foster, an inferior justice, a man quite ignorant of what he spoke; yet they both continued faithful and constant, choosing rather to die than to live, and so continued unto the end. Then sentence was given upon them, Kerby to be burnt in the said town on the next Saturday, and Clarke at Bury on the Monday after. Kerby, when his judgment was given by lord Wentworth, with most humble reverence holding up his hands, and bowing himself devoutly, said - "Praised be Almighty God!" and stood still without any more words. Then did lord Wentworth talk secretly, putting his hand behind another justice that sat near him. Clarke perceiving this, said with a loud voice, "Speak out, my lord; and if you have any thing con- trary to your conscience, ask God mercy, and we for our parts forgive you: and speak not in secret, for ye shall come before a judge, and then make answer openly, even before him that shall judge all men." Lord Wentworth, somewhat changing colour, as it was thought through remorse, answered, "I spoke nothing of you, nor have I done any thing unto you, but as the law is." Then were the prisoners sent forth, Kerby to prison there, and Clarke to Bury St. Edmunds. On quitting the court, Clarke exclaimed aloud - "Fight for your God, for he hath not long to continue." On Saturday,about ten o'clock, Kerby was brought to the marketplace, where a stake with wood and straw was ready. He put off his PAGE 448 clothes to his shirt, having a night-cap upon his head, and was then fastened to the stake with irons; there being in the gallery lord Went- worth, with the greater part of the justices of those quarters, where they might see his execution, how every thing should be done, and also might hear what Kerby had to say; there were also a great number of people. Upon the gallery also, by Lord Wentworth, stood Dr. Rugham, who was before a monk of Bury, and sexton of the house, having on a surplice and stole about his neck. Then silence was proclaimed, and the doctor began to excuse himself, as not meet to declare the Holy Scriptures, being unprovided because the time was so short, but that he hoped in God's assistance it should come well to pass. While the executioners were preparing their irons, fagots, and straw, for the martyr, he, as one that should be married with new garments, nothing changed in cheer nor countenance, but with a most meek spirit glorified God. Dr. Rugham at last entered into the sixth chapter of St. John, and in handling that matter, so oft as he alleged the Scriptures, and applied them rightly, Kerby told the people that he said true, and bade them believe him. But when he did otherwise, he told him again, "You say not true; believe him not, good people." Whereupon, as the voice of the people was, they judged Dr. Rugham a false prophet. When he had ended his collation, he said to Kerby, "Thou, good man, dost thou not believe that the blessed sacrament of the altar is the very flesh and blood of Christ, and no bread, even as he was born of the Virgin Mary?" Kerby answering boldly, said - "I do not so believe." "How dost thou believe?" said the doctor. Kerby answered boldly, saying, "I believe that in the sacrament which Jesus Christ instituted at his last supper to his disciples is his death and passion and his blood-shedding for the redemption of the world, to be remembered; and, as I said before, yet bread, and more than bread, for that it is consecrated to a holy use." After this the doctor spake not one word more to Kerby. Then the under-sheriff demanded of Kerby whether he had any thing more to say. "Yea, sir," said he, "if you will give me leave." "Say on then," said the sheriff. The martyr summoning all his fortitude, and taking the cap from his head, put it under his arms as though it should have done him service again: but remembering himself, he cast it from him, and lifting up his hands, he repeated the Te Deum, and the belief, with other prayers in the English tongue. Lord Wentworth, whilst Kerby was thus doing, concealed himself behind one of the posts of the gallery, and wept, and so did many others. "Then," said Kerby, "I have done: you may execute your office, good sheriff." On this, fire was set to the wood, while with a loud voice he called unto God, striking his breast, and holding up his hands so long as his remem- brance would serve; and so ended his life, the people giving shouts, and praising God with great admiration of his constancy, being so simple and unlettered. On the following Monday, about ten o'clock, Roger Clarke of Mendelsham was brought out of prison, and led on foot to the gate, called Southgate, in Bury. By the way, the procession met with them; but he went on, and would not bow, but with most vehement words rebuked their idolatry and superstition, the officers being much offended. PAGE 449 Without the gate where was the place of execution, the stake being ready, and the wood lying by, he came and kneeled down, and said Magni- ficat in the English tongue, making as it were a paraphrase upon the same, wherein he declared that the blessed Virgin Mary, who might as well rejoice in pureness, as any other, yet humbled herself to our Saviour. "And what sayest thou John Baptist," said he, "the greatest of all the children? 'Behold the lamb of God which taketh away the sins of the world.'" Thus with a loud voice he cried unto the people, while they were fastening him to the stake, and then the fire was set to him. His sufferings were dreadful, for the wood was green, and would not burn, so that he was choaked with smoke: and moreover, being set in a pitch barrel, with some pitch sticking still by the sides, he was therewith sore pained, till he got his feet out of the barrel. At length one standing by took a fagot-stick, and striking at the ring of iron about his neck, and then upon his head, he shrunk down on one side into the fire, and so was destroyed. The reformation now appeared to go back instead of forward for a time. This year it was ordained and decreed, and solemnly given out in proclamation by the king's name and authority and his council, that the English procession should be used throughout the kingdom, as it was set forth by his council, and none other to be used throughout the whole realm. In the month of November, after the king had subdued the Scots, and joining with the emperor had invaded France, and had got from them the town of Boulogne, he summoned his high court of parliament; which granted unto him, besides other subsidies of money, all colleges, chantries, free chapels, hostpitals, fraternities, brotherhoods, guilds, and perpetuities of stipendary priests, to be disposed of at his will and pleasure. Whereupon in the month of December following, the king after his wonted manner, came into the parliament house to give his royal assent to such acts as were there passed: where after an eloquent oration made to him by the speaker, he answered him, not by the lord chancellor, as the manner was, but in an artful speech which he himself composed and delivered. He first eloquently and lov- ingly declared his grateful heart to his subjects for their grants and supplies offered unto him. In the second part with no less vehemency, he exhorted them to concord, peace, and unity; but had he sought the right way to work charity, and to help innocency amongst his subjects, he would have taken away the impious law of the six articles, that mother of all division. For what is it to the purpose, to exhort charity in words, and, at the same time, to put a weapon into the murderer's hand to run upon his naked brother, who never in conscience can leave his cause, nor yet hath power to defend himself? The mischief and misery produced by this law never were more fully shewn than in its operation against two or three martyrs at this time, upon whom it was put in force. Of these the most memorable was Anne Askew, whose bitter persecu- tion and merciless death tended to shew the sanguinary spirit of the times, while they also shew the firmness which a female can attain when aided by the power of religion and truth. PAGE 450 ANNE ASKEW was descended from a good family, and had received an accom- plished education; and the reader will best form his judgment of her by what follows of her trial and conduct under it. Her first examination was in the year of our Lord 1545, in the month of March. Christopher Dare examined her at Sadler's Hall, being one of the quest, and asked, if she did not believe that the sacrament hanging over the altar was the very body of Christ really. Then she demanded this question of him, Wherefore was St. Stephen stoned to death? and he said, he could not tell. Then she answered that no more would she answer his vain question. Then he said, that there was a woman, who did testify that Anne Askew should read, how God was not in temples made with hands. On this she shewed him the seventh and seventeenth chapters of the Acts of the Apostles, what Stephen and Paul had said therein. Whereupon he asked her how she took those sentences? She answered, "I would not throw pearls amongst swine, for acorns were good enough." He proceeded to ask her why she said - "I had rather read five lines in the Bible, than hear five masses in the temple." She confessed she said so, not for the dispraise of either the epistle or the gospel, but because the one greatly edified her, and the other nothing at all. As St. Paul doth witness in the fourteenth chapter of his first epistle to the Cor- inthians, wherein he saith, "If the trumpet giveth an uncertain sound, who will prepare himself to the battle?" On this she was accused of saying, that if an ill priest ministered, it was the devil and not God. To which her answer was denial of both the words and the sentiment. Instead of which she only said, "Whoever ministered unto me, his ill conditions could not hurt my faith, but in spirit I received neverthe- less the body and blood of Christ." He then asked her what she said concerning confession. She answered, "My meaning was as St. James saith, that every man ought to acknowledge his faults to others, and the one to pray for the other." Enquiry was made what she said to the king's book; and she answered him that she could say nothing to it, because she never saw it. A priest was then sent for to examine her, and when he came to her he asked several questions; but the principal one was what she said to the sacrament of the altar, and required much to know her meaning therein. But she desired him again to hold her excused concerning that matter: no other answer would she make him, because she perceived him to be a papist. On her silence he asked her if she did not think that private masses helped the departed souls; she said, it was great idola- try to believe more in them, than in the death which Christ died for us. They then brought her unto my lord mayor, and he examined her as they had before, and she answered him directly in all things in a lively manner, on which the bishop's chancellor rebuked her, and said that she was much to blame for uttering the scriptures. St. Paul, he said, for- bade women to speak or to talk of the word of God. She answered him that she knew Paul's meaning as well as he, which was that a woman ought not to speak in the congregaiotn by the way of teaching: and then she asked him how many women he had seen go into the pulpit and preach? He said he PAGE 451 never saw any. Then said she you ought to find no fault with poor women, except they had offended the law. Then the lord mayor was for committing her to prison, when she asked him if sureties would not serve: he made her short answer, that he would take none. Then was she forced to the counter, where she remained eleven days, no friend being admitted to speak with her. In the mean time there was a priest sent unto her, who said that he was commanded by the bishop to examine her, and to give her good counsel, which he did not. But first he asked her, for what cause she was put in the counter, and she told him she could not tell. Then he said, it was a great pity that she should be there without cause, and concluded that he was very sorry for her; charging her with denying the sacrament of the altar: which she answered indifferently, observing that what she had said she had said. The priest then asked her if she were content to be shriven. She told him, so that she might have one of these three, that is to say, Dr. Crome, Sir Guillam, or Huntington, she was contented, because she knew them to be men of wisdom. "As for you, or any other," she said, "I will not dispraise, because I know you not." The priest answered, "Think not but that I, or any other who may be brought you, shall be as honest as they: for if we were not, you may be sure the king would not suffer us to preach." Then she answered with the saying of Solomon, "By communing with the wise I may learn wisdom, but by talking with a fool I shall take scathe." Confounded by her wit, the priest changed his course, and asked, If the host should fall, and a beast did eat it, whether the beast did receive God or no? She answered, "Seeing that you have taken the pains to ask the question, I desire you also to assoil it yourself: for I will not do it, because I perceive you come to tempt me." He said it was against the order of schools, that he which asked the question should answer it: when she told him she was but a woman, and knew not the course of schools. Then he asked her if she intended to receive the sacrament at Easter or no? She answered, that else she were no Christian woman; and she rejoiced that the time was so near at hand. He then departed with many fair words. On the 23rd of March, her cousin came unto her, and asked her whether she might be put to bail. Then went he immediately to the lord mayor, desiring him to be so good to her, that she might be bailed. My lord answered him, that he would be glad to do the best, but he could not bail her without the consent of a spiritual officer; requiring him to go and speak to the chancellor of London. For as he could not commit her to prison without the consent of a spiritual officer, no more could he bail her without the consent of the same. Upon that he went to the chancellor, requiring of him, as he did before of my lord mayor. The chancellor answered, that the matter was so heinous, he durst not of himself do it, without my lord of London was made privy thereto. But said he would speak to my lord of it, and bade him repair to him the next morning, and he should know his pleasure. Accordingly upon the day after he came thither, and spoke to both the chancellor and bishop of London. The bishop declared that he was well contented that she should come forth to communication, and appointed her to appear before him the next day, at three o'clock in PAGE 452 the afternoon. Moreover he said, that he wished there should be, at the examination, such learned men as she was affectioned to, that they might see, and also make report, that she was handled with no rigour. He answered him, that he knew no man whom she had more affection to than another. Then said the bishop, "Yes, as I understand, she prefers Dr. Crome, Sir Guillam Whitehead, and Huntington, that they might hear the matter, for she did know them to be learned and of a godly judgment." Also he required her cousin Britain, that he should earnestly persuade her to utter even the very bottom of her heart; and he swore by his fidelity, that no man should take any advantage of her words, neither yet would he lay any thing to her charge for any thing that she should there speak; but if she said any thing amiss, he, with others, would be glad to reform her therein with godly counsel. Next day in the fore- noon, the bishop of London sent for her, and as she came before him, he said he was sorry for her trouble, and desired to know her opinions in such matters as were laid against her. He required her also in any wise boldly to utter the secrets of her heart, bidding her not to fear in any points, for whatever she said in his house, no man should hurt her for it. She answered - "As your lordship has appointed three o'clock; and my friends will not come till that hour, I desire you to pardon my giving answers till they arrive." Then he said that he thought it meet to send for those who were before named and appointed. She desired him not to put them to the trouble, because the two gentlemen who were her friends, were able enough to testify what she should say. Afterwards he went into his gallery with Mr. Spilman, and told him in any wise that he should exhort her to utter all she thought. And in the meanwhile he commanded his archdeacon to commune with her, who said, "Mistress, wherefore are you accused and thus troubled here before the bishop?" She answered, "Sir, ask my accusers, for I know not as yet." Then he took her hand, and pointing to the bible, said, "Such book as this has brought you to the trouble you are now in. Beware, beware, for he that made this book, and was the author thereof, was a heretic and burned in Smithfield." She asked him if he was certain and sure that it was true what he had spoken. He said he knew well the book was of John Frith's making. She asked him if he was not ashamed to judge of the book before he saw it within, or yet knew the truth thereof; and said also, that such unad- vised hasty judgment is a token apparent of a very slender wit. The she opened the book and shewed it him. He said he thought it had been another, for he could find no fault therein. Then she desired him no more to be so unadvisedly rash and swift in judgment, till he thoroughly knew the truth, and so he departed from her. Immediately after came her cousin Britain, with divers others, among whom was a Mr. Hall of Gray's- Inn. Then my lord of London persuaded her cousin, as he had done oft before, that she should utter the very bottom of her heart in any wise. My lord said after that unto her that he would she should credit the counsel of such as were her friends and well-wishers in this behalf, which was that she should utter all things that burthened her con- PAGE 453 science; for he assured her that she should not need to stand in doubt. For as he promised them, he promised her, and would perform it; namely, that neither he, nor any man for him, should take her at advantage of any word, and therefore he bade her speak her mind without fear. She answered him, that she had nought to say, for her conscience was bur- dened with nothing. Then the bishop, Bonner, began to use similitudes, and his first, especially to a delicate female, was not a very savoury similitude: "If a man had a wound, no wise surgeon would minister help unto it before he had seen it uncovered. In the same manner can I give you no good counsel, unless I know wherewith your conscience is burthened." "My conscience," she said, "is clear in all things, and to lay a plaister unto a whole skin would appear much folly." Bonner ex- claimed - "Then you drive me to lay to your charge your own report, which is this: You did say, he that doth receive the sacrament by the hands of an ill priest, or a sinner, receiveth the devil, and not God." She answered, "I never spake such words; but, as I said before, that the wickedness of the priest did not hurt me, but in spirit and faith I received no less than the body and blood of Christ." "What saying is this, in spirit?" demanded he; "I will not take you at the advantage." The she answered, "My lord, without faith and spirit, I cannot receive him worthily." He said she had affirmed, that "the sacrament remaining in the pix was not bread." She answered, she had never said so; but indeed the quest had asked the question, whereunto she would not reply till they had answered her question, "Wherefore Stephen was stoned to death?" The biship evidently remembered this, and changing his tone, said, that she had alleged a certain text of the scripture. She an- swered, "I alleged none other but St. Paul's own saying to the Athe- nians, in the 17th chapter of the Acts, that God dwelleth not in temples made with hands." Then he inquired what her faith and belief was in that matter? She answered him, "I believe as the scripture doth teach me." On this he inquired, "What if the scripture doth say that it is the body of Christ?" "I believe," she said, "as the scripture doth teach." Then he asked again, "What if the scripture doth say that it is not the body of Christ?" Her answer was still, "I believe as the scrip- ture informeth me." On this argument he tarried a great while, to have driven her to make him an answer to his mind. Howbeit she would not, but concluded this with him, "I believe therein, and in all other things, as Christ and his apostles did leave them." The bishop, displeased that she said so little, sharply asked, "Why she had so few words?" when she answered, "God hath given me the gift of knowledge, but not of ut- terance; and Solomon saith, 'That a woman of few words is the gift of God.'" Then he laid to her charge, that she had said that the mass was superstitious, wicked, and no better than idolatry. She answered him that she had not said so: adding, "The quest asked me whether private mass did relieve departed souls or no? Unto whom I answered - O Lord, what idolatry is this, that we should rather believe in private masses than in the death of the dear Son of God?" Then said the bishop again, "What an answer is that?" "Though it be but mean," she said, "yet is it good enough for the question. And there was a priest who did hear what I PAGE 454 I said there, before my lord mayor and them." The chancellor then asked the priest, who said she spake it in very deed, before the lord mayor and himself. There were certain priests, as Dr. Standish and others, who tempted her so much to know her mind. She answered them always thus:- "What I have said to my lord of London, I have said." Then Dr. Standish desired the bishop to bid her speak her mind concerning the text of St. Paul's learning, probably to betray her, that she being a woman should interpret the scriptures in the presence of so many wise and learned men. The bishop then quickly said, "I am informed that one has asked you if you would receive the sacrament at Easter, and you made a mock of it." To this she boldly yet calmly and meekly replied, "I desire that my accuser might come forth" - which he would not allow. But he said again unto her, "I sent one to give you good counsel, and at the first word you called him Papist." "I deny not that," she said, "for I perceived he was no less, and I made him no other reply." Then he rebuked her, and said that she had reported there were sent against her threescore priests at Lincoln. "Indeed," she answered, "I said so; for my friends told me, if I did come to Lincoln, the priests would assault me, and put me to great trouble, as thereof they had made their boast; and when I heard it I went thither not being afraid, because I knew my matter to be good. Moreover I remained there nine days, to see what would be said to me; and as I was in the Minster, reading the Bible, they resorted unto me by two and two, and by greater numbers, minding to have spoken unto me, yet went they their ways again without speaking." The bishop asked if there were not one who had spoken to her? She an- swered, "Yes, there was one of them at the last which did speak indeed, but his words were of small effect, so that I do not now remember them." Then said the bishop, "There are many that read and know the scripture, and yet follow it not, nor live thereafter." She said again, "My lord, I would wish that all men knew my conversation and living in all points; for I am sure myself this hour that there are none able to prove any dishonesty against me. If you know that any can do it, I pray you bring them forth." Then the bishop went away, and said he would put some of her meaning in writing; but what it was she was uncertain, for he would not suffer her to have the copy thereof. A small part of it ran thus:- "Be it known of all men, that I, Anne Askew, do confess this to be my faith and belief, notwithstanding many reports made afore to the con- trary. I believe that they which are houseled at the hands of a priest, whether his conversation be good or not, do receive the body and blood of Christ in substance really. Also I do believe, that after the conse- cration, whether it be received or reserved, it is no less than the very body and blood of Christ in substance. Finally, I do believe in this and in all other sacraments of holy church in all points, according to the catholic faith of the same. In witness whereof, I the said Anne have subscribed my name." It is evident that all this was palmed on Mrs. Askew by the treacherous bishop; and there was somewhat more in it, which because she had not the copy, she could not remember. He read it PAGE 455 to her, and asked if she did not agree to it? To which she said, "I believe so much thereof, as the holy scripture doth agree unto; where- fore I desire you that you will add that thereunto." To this he said, that she should not teach him what he should write; and with that he went forth into his great chamber and read the same bill before the audience, which inveigled and willed her to set to her hand, saying also, that she had been favoured, and that she might thank others, and not herself for the favour she found at his hand; for he considered that she had good friends, and that she came of a good family. Never sure did a bishop shew favour to a lady with so ill a grace. Christopher, a servant to Mr. Denny, said to his lordship, "Rather ought you, my lord, to have done it in such case for God's sake, than for man's." Then my lord sat down, and took her the writing to set thereto her hand, and she wrote after this manner:- "I Anne Askew do believe all manner of things contained in the faith of the catholic church." Because of the latter words he flung the paper into his chamber in great fury. With that her cousin Britain followed, desiring him for God's sake to be a good bishop to her. He answered, that she was a woman, and that he was nothing deceived in her. Then her cousin Britain desired him to treat her as a woman, and not to set a weak woman's wit to his lordship's great wisdom. There went in unto him Dr. Weston, and said, "The cause why she did write there the catholic church, was, that she understood not the church written afore." So with much ado they persuaded the bishop to come out again, and take her name, with the names of the sureties, which were her cousin Britain and master Spilman of Gray's Inn. This being done, it was thought that she should have been put to bail immediately, according to the order of the law. Howbeit he would not suffer it, but committed her from thence to prison again until the morrow, and then he willed her to appear in the Guildhall, which she did. Notwithstanding they would not put her to bail there, but read the bishop's writing unto her as before, and commanded her again to prison. Then were her sureties appointed to come on the morrow in Paul's church, who did so. They would once again have broken off with them, because they would not be bound also for another woman, whom they knew not, nor yet what matter was laid unto her charge. Notwithstanding at the last, after much ado and reasoning to and fro, they took a bond of them of recognizance for her forth coming: and thus she was at the last delivered. Thus ends her first persecution, from which, for a time, she escaped; but not conforming to the erroneous doctrine of the sacrament, she was in 1546, again apprehended. The following account of her examination before the council at Greenwich is taken, like the previous one, from her own papers: only this, for its peculiarity, is retained in her own words. "Your request as concerning my prison-fellows I am not able to satisfy, because I heard not their examinations. But the effect of mine was this. I being before the council, was asked of Mr. Kyme. I answered, that my lord chancellor knew already my mind in that matter. They with that answer were not contented, but said it was the king's pleasure that I should open the PAGE 456 matter unto them. I answered them plainly, I would not do so; but if it were the king's pleasure to hear me, I would shew him the truth. Then they said it was not meet for the king to be troubled with me. I an- swered, that Solomon was reckoned the wisest king that ever lived, yet misliked he not to hear two poor common women; much more his grace a simple woman and his faithful subject. So in conclusion, I made them none other answer in that matter. Then my lord chancellor asked of me my opinion in the sacrament. My answer was this, I believe that so oft as I in a Christian congregaion do receive the bread in remembrance of Christ's death, and with thanksgiving, according to his holy institu- tion, I receive therewith the fruits also of his most glorious passion. The bishop of Winchester bade me make a direct answer: I said I would not sing the song of the Lord in a strange land. Then the bishop said I spake in parables. I answered, it was best for him, for if I shewed the open truth they would not accept it. Then he said I was a parrot. I told him again I was ready to suffer all things at his hands, not only his rebukes, but all that should follow besides, yea, and all that gladly. Then had I divers rebukes of the council, because I would not express my mind in all things as they would have me. But they were not in the mean time unanswered for all that, which now to rehearse were too much, for I was with them about five hours. Then the clerk of the council conveyed me from thence to my lady Garnish. The next day I was brought again before the council, which would needs know what I said to the sacrament. I answered that I had already said what I could say. After many words they bid me go aside. Then came lord Lisle, lord Essex, and the bishop of Winchester, requiring me earnestly that I should confess the sacra- ment to be flesh, blood, and bone. I told these noblemen that it was a great shame for them to counsel contrary to their knowledge; whereunto in a few words they said, that they would gladly all things were well. The bishop said he would speak with me familiarly. I said, "So did Judas, when he betrayed Christ." Then he desired to speak with me alone; but that I refused. He asked me why. I said, that in the mouth of two or three witnesses every matter should stand, after Christ's and Paul's doctrine. Then my lord chancellor began to examine me again on the sacrament. I asked him, How long he would halt on both. He asked where I found that. I said, in the scripture. Then he went his way. The bishop said I should be burnt. I answered, That I had searched all the scriptures, yet could I never find that either Christ or his apostles put any creature to death. "Well, well," said I, "God will laugh your threatenings to scorn." Then was I commanded to stand aside; after which PAGE 457 came Dr. Cox and Dr. Robinson to me; but in conclusion we could not agree. After striving to convince me they drew out a confession re- specting the sacrament, urging me to set my hand thereunto; but this I refused. On the following Sunday I was so extremely ill, that I thought death was upon me; upon which I desired to see Mr. Latimer, but this was not granted. In the height of my illness I was conveyed to Newgate, where the Lord was pleased to renew my strength. On my being brought to trial at Guildhall they said to me there that I was a heretic, and condemned by the law, if I would stand in mine opinion. I answered, That I was no heretic, neither yet deserve I any death by the law of God. But as concerning the faith which I uttered and wrote to the council, I would not deny it, becaues I knew it true. Then would they needs know if I would deny sacrament to be Christ's body and blood? I said, "Yea; for the same Son of God, who was born of the Virgin Mary, is now glorious in heaven, and will come again from thence at the latter day. And as for that ye call your God, it is a piece of bread. For more proof thereof, mark it when you list, if it lie in the box three months, it will be mouldy, and so turn to nothing that is good. Whereupon I am persuaded that it cannot be God." After that they willed me to have a priest; at which I smiled. Then they asked me if it were not good? I said, I would confess my faults unto God, for I was sure that he would hear me with favour. And so I was condemned. And this was the ground of my sen- tence:- My belief, which I wrote to the council that the sacramental bread was left us to be received with thanksgiving, in remembrance of Christ's death, the only remedy of our soul's recovery; and that thereby we also receive the whole benefits and fruits of his most glorious passion. Then would they know whether the bread in the box were God or no: I said God is a spirit, and will be worshipped in spirit and truth. Then they demanded, Will you plainly deny Christ to be in the sacrament? I answered, that I believe faithfully the eternal Son of God not to dwell there; in witness whereof I recited again the history of Bel, Dan. xix., Acts vii. and xvii., and Matt. xxiv., concluding thus: "I neither wish death, nor yet fear his might: God have the praise thereof with thanks." After this Mrs. Askew addressed a letter to the king, and sent it by the hands of the chancellor. It ran thus:- "I Anne Askew, of good memory, although God hath given me the bread of adversity, and the water of trouble, yet not so much as my sins have deserved, desire this to be known unto your grace, that forasmuch as I am by the law condemned for an evil doer, here I take heaven and earth to record, that I shall die in my innocency; and according to that I have said first, and will say last, I utterly abhor and detest all heresies. And as concerning the supper of the Lord, I believe so much as Christ hath said therein, which he confirmed with his most blessed blood. I believe so much as he willed me to follow, and believe so much as the Catholic church of him doth teach. For I will not forsake the commandment of his holy lips. But look what God hath charged me with his mouth, that I have shut up in my heart. And thus briefly I end for lack of learning." This pious and gifted lady was, notwithstanding, still deemed a heretic, and doomed to PAGE 458 undergo farther suffering. In a few days she was sent from Newgate to the sign of the Crown, where Mr. Rich, and the bishop of London, with all their power and flattering words, went about to persuade her from God; but she did not esteem their glossing pretences. After them either came or was sent one Nicholas Shaxton, who counselled her to recant as others had done. She said to him, "It had been good for you never to have been born;" with many other like words, chiefly from Scripture. She was then sent to the Tower, where she remained till three o'clock, when Rich came and one of the council, charging her upon her obedience to show unto them if she knew any man or woman of her sect. Her answer was, "I know none." Then they asked her of lady Suffolk, lady Sussex, lady Hertford, lady Denny, and lady Fitzwilliam. Of whom she answered, "If I should pronounce any thing against them, that I were not able to prove it." Then said they unto her, "The king is informed that you could name, if you would, a great number of your sect." She answered, That the king was as well deceived in that behalf, as he was dissembled with by them in other matters. Then they commanded her to shew how she was main- tained in the prison, and who willed her to stick to her opinion. She answered that there was no creature that therein did strengthen her. And as for the help that she had in the Compter, it was by the means of her maid. For as she went abroad in the streets, she told her case to the apprentices, and they by her did send her money, but who they were she never knew. On this they said, That there were several ladies that had sent her money. She answered, That there was a man who delivered her ten shillings, and said that my lady of Hertford sent it her; and another gave her eight shillings, and said my lady Denny sent it her. Whether it were true or no she could not tell, for she was not sure who sent it her, but as the maid did say. Then they said, "There are some of the council who maintain you," Which she strictly denied. Then did they put her on the rack, because she confessed no ladies or gentlewomen to be of her opinion, and thereon they kept her a long time, and because she lay still and did not cry, the lord chancellor and Mr. Rich took pains to rack her with their own hands till she was nigh dead - an instance of unusual cruelty even for that age. The lieutenant then caused her to be loosed from the rack, when she immediately swooned, and then recovered again. After that she sat two hours reasoning with the lord chancellor upon the bare floor, where he with many flattering words persuaded her to leave her opinion; but her Lord God, thanks to his everlasting good- ness gave her grace to persevere. Then she was brought to a house and laid on a bed, with as weary and painful bones as ever had patient Job, yet expressing her thanks to God. Then the lord chancellor sent for her word, if she would leave her opinion she should want for nothing; if she would not, she should forthwith to Newgate, and so be burned. She sent him again word, that she would rather die than break her faith - praying that God would open his eyes, that the truth might take place. Touching the order of her racking in the Tower, thus it was: first, she was led down into a dungeon, where Sir Anthony Knevet, the lieutenant, commanded PAGE 459 his gaoler to pinch her with the rack: which being done so much as he thought sufficient, he went about to take her down, supposing that he had done enough. But Wriothesley, the chancellor, displeased that she was loosed so soon, confessing nothing, commanded the lieutenant to strain her on the rack again, which because he refused to do, tendering the weakness of the woman, he was threatened, the chancellor saying, that he would signify his disobedience unto the king; and so consequent- ly, he and Mr. Rich, throwing off their gowns, would needs play the tormentors themselves, first asking her, if she were with child; to whom she answering again, said, "Ye shall not need to spare for that, but do your wills upon me;" and so quietly and patiently praying unto the Lord, she abode their tyranny, till her bones and joints were almost plucked asunder, so that she was carried away in a chair. When the racking was past, Wriothesley and his fellow left. Meantime, while they were making their way by land, the good lieutenant, eftsoons taking boat, sped him to the court in all haste to speak with the king before the other; who there making his humble suit to the king, desired his pardon, and showed him the whole matter as it stood, and of the racking of Mrs. Askew; and that he was threatened by the lord chancellor, because at his command- ment, not knowing his highness's pleasure, he refused to rack her, which he for compassion could not find in his heart to do, and therefore desired his highness's pardon. This when the king had understood, he seemed not very well to like their so extreme handling the woman, and also granted to the lieutenant his pardon, willing him to return and see to his charge. There was great expectation in the mean season among the warders and officers of the Tower, waiting for his return. When they saw him come so cheerfully, declaring unto them how he had sped with the king, they were not a little joyous, and gave thanks to God therefore - a proof this that persecution was more in favour with the higher than the lower officers. The following is a letter from Mrs. Askew to a fellow martyr, in answer to one which he had written to her: his name was John Lacel. "O friend, most dearly beloved in God! I marvel not a little what should move you to judge me in so slender a faith as to fear death, which is the end of all misery. In the Lord, I desire you not to believe of me such weakness; for I doubt it not, that God will perform his work in me, like as he hath begun. I understand the council is not a little displeased, that it should be reported abroad that I was racked in the Tower. They say now, that what they did there was but to fear me; whereby I perceive they are ashamed of their uncomely doings, and fear much lest the king's majesty should have information thereof, wherefore they would no man to noise it. Well, their cruelty God forgive them." She was falsely accused of beginning to recant, and she thus answered the accusation. "I have read the process which is reported of them that know not the truth, to be my recantation. But, as the Lord liveth, I never meant a thing less than to recant. Notwithstanding this I confess, that in my first troubles, I was examined by the bishop of London about the sacrament. Yet had they no grant of my mouth but this, that I be- lieved therein as the word of God did bind me to believe. More had they PAGE 460 never of me. Then he made a copy, which is now in print, and required me to set thereunto my hand; but I refused it. Then my two sureties did will me in no wise to stick thereat, for it was no great matters, they said. Then with much ado, at the last I wrote thus:- I, Anne Askew, do believe this, if God's word do agree to the same, and the true catholic church. Then the bishop being in great displeasure with me, because I made doubts in my writing, commanded me to prison, where I was awhile, but afterwards by the means of friends I came out again. Here is the truth of that matter; and as concerning the thing that ye covet most to know, resort to the sixth of John, and be ruled always thereby. Thus fare ye well." The reader has already seen a brief confession of this pious woman's faith, and will delight in perusing an enlargement of the same. "I, Anne Askew, of good memory, although my merciful Father hath given me the bread of adversity, and the water of trouble, yet not so much as my sins have deserved, do confess myself here a sinner before the throne of his heavenly majesty, desiring his forgiveness and mercy. And for so much as I am by the law unrighteously condemned for an evil doer, concerning opinions, I take the same most merciful God of mine, which hath made both heaven and earth, to record, that I hold no opin- ions contrary to his most holy word; and I trust in my merciful Lord, who is the giver of all grace, that he will graciously assist me against all evil opinions which are contrary to his blessed verity; for I take him to witness that I have done, and will, unto my life's end, utterly abhor them to the uttermost of my power. "But this is the heresy which they report me to hold, that after the priest hath spoken the words of consecration, there remaineth bread still. They both say, and also teach it for a necessary article of faith, that after these words be once spoken, there remaineth no bread, but even the self-same body that hung upon the cross on Good Friday, both flesh, blood, and bone. To this belief of theirs say I, nay. For then were our common creed false, which saith, that he sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty, and from thence shall come to judge the quick and the dead. Lo, this is the heresy that I hold, and for it must suffer the death. But as touching the holy and blessed supper of the Lord, I believe it to be a most necessary remembrance of his glorious sufferings and death. Moreover, I believe as much therein as my eternal and only Redeemer Jesus Christ would I should believe. "Finally, I believe all those scriptures to be true, which he hath confirmed with his most precious blood; yea, and as St. Paul saith, those scriptures are sufficient for our learning and salvation, that Christ hath left there with us: so that, I believe, we need no unwritten verities to rule his church with. Therefore look what he hath said unto me with his own mouth in his holy gospel that I have with God's grace closed up in my heart, and my full trust is, as David saith that it shall be a lantern to my footsteps. There be some that say I deny the eucharist, or sacrament of thanksgiving; but those people untruly report of me, for I both say and believe it, that if it were ordered as Christ instituted it and left it, a most singular comfort it were unto us all. But as concerning your mass as it is now used in our days, I say and believe it to be the most abominable idol that is in the PAGE 461 world. For my God will not be eaten with teeth, neither yet dieth he again; and upon these words that I have now spoken, will I suffer death." To this confession she added a prayer. "O Lord, I have more enemies now than there be hairs on my head; yet Lord, let them never overcome me with vain words, but fight thou Lord in my stead, for on thee cast I my care. With all the spite they can imagine, they fall upon me who am thy poor creature. Yet, sweet Lord, let me not set by them which are against me, for in thee is my whole delight; and, Lord, I heartily desire of thee, that thou wilt of thy most merciful goodness forgive them that violence which they do and have done unto me. Open also thou their blind hearts, that they may hereafter do that thing in thy sight, which is only acceptable before thee, and to set forth thy verity aright, without any vain fantasy of sinful men. So be it, O Lord, so be it." After these refreshing things we are better prepared to speak concerning her martyrdom. Being born of such stock and kindred as would have enabled her to live in great wealth and prosperity, if she had chosen rather to have followed the world than Christ, she now had been so tormented, that she could neither live long in such great dis- tress, no yet by her adversaries be suffered to die in secret; the day of her execution being appointed, she was brought to Smithfield in a chair, because she could not walk, from the cruel effects of the tor- ments. When she was brought to the stake, she was fastened to it by the middle with a chain that held up her body. Three others were brought to suffer with her, and for the same offence; these were, Nicholas Bele- nian, a priest of Shropshire; John Adams, a tailor; and John Lacel, gentleman of the court and household of king Henry. The martyrs being chained to the stake, and all things ready for the fire, Dr. Shaxton, then appointed to preach, began his sermon. Anne Askew hearing and answering him, where he said well, she approved; where he said amiss, expressing firmly her dissent, saying, "He speaketh without the book." The sermon being finished, the martyrs, standing at three several stakes ready to their martyrdom, began their prayers. The multitude of the people was exceeding great, the place where they stood being railed about to keep out the press. Upon the bench, under St. Bartholomew's church, sat Wriothesley, the chancellor of England, the old duke of Norfolk, the old earl of Bedford, the lord mayor, with divers others. Before the fire was kindled, one of the bench hearing that they had gunpowder about them, and being afraid lest the fagots, by strength of the gunpowder, would come flying about their ears, began to be afraid; but the earl of Bedford observing how the gunpowder was not laid under the fagots, but only about their bodies to rid them of their pain, which having vent, there was no danger to them, so diminished that fear. Then the lord chancellor sent to Anne Askew, offering to her the king's pardon if she would recant: a letter said to be written by the king was put into her hand; but she, refusing once to look upon it, made this answer again. "I came not hither to deny my Lord and master." Then were PAGE 462 letters likewise offered unto the others, who in like manner, following the constancy of the woman, denied not only to receive them, but also to look upon them, continuing to cheer and exhort each other by the end of their sufferings, and the glory they were about to enter; whereupon the lord mayor, commanding fire to be put to them, cried with a loud voice, "fiat justitia." Thus were these blessed martyrs compassed in with flames of fire, as holy sacrifices unto God and his truth. There is a letter extant, which John Lacel briefly wrote in prison respecting the sacrament of Christ's body and blood, wherein he confutes the error of them, who, not being contented with the spiritual receiving of the sacrament, will leave no substance of bread therein, and also the sin- ister interpretation of many thereupon. These events were so many triumphs to the popish party, who, stimulated by fresh hopes, sought to complete the victory they anticipated by an important scheme. This was the ruin of Cranmer and the queen, whom they considered the greatest barriers to their aims. They persuaded the king that Cranmer was the source of all the heresies in England; but Henry's esteem for him was such, that none would come in against him; they therefore desired that he might at least be put in the Tower, as a place of safeguard, and then it would appear how many would inform against him. The king seemed to approve this plan, and they resolved to execute it the next day: but in the night the king relented, and he sent for Cranmer, and told him what was resolved concerning him. Cranmer thanked the king for giving him notice of it, and not leaving him to be surprised. He submitted to it, only desiring he might be heard in answer for himself; and that he might have impartial judges, competent to decide. Henry wondered to see him so little concerned in his own preservation: and told him, since he took so litte care of himself, that he must take care of him. He therefore gave him instructions to appear before the council, and to desire to see his accusers before he should be sent to the Tower; and that he might be used by them, as they would desire to be used in a similar case; and, if he could not prevail by the force of reason, then he was to appeal to the king in person, and was to shew the royal seal ring, which he took from his finger and gave him, which they would know so well that they would do nothing after they once saw it. Accordingly, on being summoned next morning, he came over to Whitehall; there he was detained with great insolence in the lobby before he was called into the council chamber: but when that was done, and he had observed the method the king had directed him to use, and at last shewed the ring, they all rose in great confusion and went to the king. He upbraided them severely for what they had done, and expressed his esteem and kindness to Cranmer in such terms that his enemies were glad to get off, by pretending that they had no other design but that of having his innocence declared by a public trial. From this vain attempt they were so convinced of the king's unalterable favour to him, that they forbore any further designs against him. But what they durst not do in relation to Cranmer, they thought might be more safely tried against the queen, who was known to love the new learning, as the reformation was now called. She used to have sermons in her privy chamber, which could not be so secretly PAGE 463 carried, but that it came to the knowledge of her royal spouse; yet her conduct in all other things was so exact, and she expressed such a tender care of the king's person, that it was observed she had gained much upon him; while his peevishness growing with his distempers, made him sometimes impatient even to her. They used often to talk of matters of religion, and sometimes she held the argument for the reformers so strenuously, that he was offended at it; yet as soon as that appeared she let it fall. But once the debate continuing long, the king expressed his displeasure at it to Gardiner, when she went away. The crafty bishop took this opportunity to persuade the king that she was a great cherish- er of heretics. The chancellor joined with him in the same artifice, and filled the angry king with stories, insomuch that he signed the articles upon which she was to be impeached. The chancellor, however, letting the paper fall from him carelessly, it happened to be taken up by one of the queen's friends, who carried it to her. The night following after sup- per, she was waited upon only by lady Herbert, her sister, and lady Lane, who carried the candle before her, unto the king's bedchamber, whom she found sitting and talking with certain gentlemen of his cham- ber. Henry very courteously welcomed her, and breaking off the talk with the gentlemen, began of himself, contrary to his manner before accus- tomed, to enter into talk of religion, seeming as it were desirous to be resolved by the queen of certain doubts which he propounded. The queen perceiving to what purpose this talk did tend, not being unprovided how to behave herself towards the king, resolved his questions as the time and opportunity allowed. With a mild and reverent countenance she answered his inquiries thus:- "Your majesty doth right well know, I myself am ignorant, what great imperfection and weakness by our first creation is allotted unto us women, to be ordained and oppointed as inferior, and subject unto man as our head, from which head all our direction ought to proceed; and that as God made man to his own shape and likeness, whereby he, being endued with more special gifts of per- fection, might rather be stirred to the contemplation of heavenly things, and to the earnest endeavour to obey his commandments, even so also made he woman of man, of whom, and by whom, she is to be governed, commanded, and directed. Her womanly weakness and natural imperfection ought to be tolerated, aided and borne withal, so that by his wisdom such things as be lacking in her ought to be supplied. Since then God hath appointed such a natural difference between man and woman, and your majesty being so excellent in gifts and ornaments of wisdom, and I so much inferior in all respects of nature unto you, how then cometh it now to pass that your majesty, in such diffuse causes of religion, will seem to require my judgment? which, when I have uttered and said what I can, yet must I, and will I, refer my judgment in this, and in all other cases to your majesty's wisdom, as my only anchor, supreme head and governor here on earth, next under God to lean unto." "Not so, by St. Mary," quoth the king; "you are become a doctor, Kate, to instruct us, and not to be instructed or directed by us." "If your majesty take it so," replied the queen, "then hath your majesty very much mistaken me, PAGE 464 who have ever been of the opinion to think it very unseemly, and prepos- terous, for the woman to take upon her the office of an instructor or teacher to her lord and husband; but rather to learn of her husband, and to be taught by him. And whereas I have with your majesty's leave here- tofore been bold to hold talk with your majesty, wherein sometimes in opinions there hath seemed some difference, I have not done it so much to maintain opinion, as I did it rather to minister talk, not only to the end your majesty might with less grief pass over this painful time of your infirmity, being intentive to our talk, and hoping that your majesty should reap some ease thereby; but also that I, hearing your majesty's learned discourse might receive to myself some profit thereby; wherein, I assure your majesty, I have not missed any part of my desire in that behalf, always referring myself in all such matters unto your majesty, as by ordinance of nature it is convenient for me to do." "And is it even so, sweetheart?" quoth the king, "and tended your arguments to no worse end? Then perfect friends we are now again, as ever at any time heretofore." And as he sat in his chair, embracing her in his arms, and kissing her, he added this, saying, that it did him more good at that time to hear those words of her own mouth, than if he had heard present news of a hundred thousand pounds in money fallen unto him; and with great signs and tokens of marvellous joy and liking, with promises and assurances never again in any sort more to mistake her, entering into other very pleasant discourses with the queen and the lords, and gentlemen standing by, about midnight he gave her leave to depart; and in her absence to the standers by, he gave as singular and affectionate commendations, as before to the bishop and the chancellor - who then were neither of them present - he seemed to mislike of her. The day, and almost the hour appointed being come, the king being disposed in the afternoon to take the air, waited upon by two gentlemen only of his bedchamber, went into the garden, whither the queen also came, being sent for by the king himself, the three ladies above named waiting upon her. Henry seemed at that time disposed to be as pleasant as ever he was in all his life before: when suddenly in the midst of their mirth came the lord chancellor in the garden with forty of the king's guards at his heels, intending to have taken the queen, together with the three ladies, even then unto the Tower. The king sternly beholding them, broke off his mirth with the queen, and stepping a little aside, called the chancellor unto him, who upon his knees spake unto the king, but what they were, on account of their whispering and distance, is not well known: but it is most certain that the king's reply unto him was, "Knave, yea, arrant knave, beast, and fool;" and then commanded him presently to avaunt out of his presence. These words, although they were uttered somewhat low, yet were they so vehemently whispered out by the king, that the queen and her ladies overheard them, which would have been not a little to her comfort, if she had known at that time the whole cause of his coming, so perfectly as after she knew it. Thus departed the lord chancellor out of the king's presence as he came, with all his train, the whole mould of his device being utterly broken. The PAGE 465 king immediately returned to the queen, who perceived him to be very much chafed: then, with as sweet words as she could utter, she endea- voured to pacify his displeasure, with request unto his majesty in behalf of the lord chancellor, with whom he seemed to be offended; saying, "Albeit I know not what just cause your majesty had at that time to be offended with him, yet I think that ignorance, not will, was the cause of his error;" and so besought his majesty for him. "Ah, poor soul," quoth he, "thou little knowest how ill he deserveth this grace at thy hands. On my word, sweetheart, he hath been towards thee an arrant knave, and so let him go." To this the queen, in charitable manner replying in few words, ended that talk. Thus the design against her vanished; and Gardiner, who had set it on, lost the king's favour entirely by it. Now the fall of the duke of Norfolk, and his son, the earl of Surrey, came on. The father had been long treasurer, and served the king with great fidelity and success; his son was a man of rare qualities, and more than ordinarily learned. He hated the earl of Hert- ford, and scorned an alliance with him, which his father had projected. The Seymours also were apprehensive of the opposition they might meet with, if the king should die, from the earl of Surrey, who was very haughty, had a vast fortune, and was the head of the popish party. The duke's family was also fatally divided; his duchess had been separated from him about four years, and now turned informer against him. His daughter also hated her brother. Mrs. Holland a mistress of the duke, also betrayed him, and discovered all she could; yet all amounted to no more than some complaints of the father's, who thought the services he had done the crown were little regarded, and some threatenings of the son's. It was also said, that the father gave the coat of arms that belonged to the prince of Wales, and the son gave Edward the Confessor's coat. One Southwell objected things of a higher nature to the earl of Surrey; he denied them, and desired that, according to the martial law, they might have a trial by combat: but that was not granted; yet both father and son were sent to the Tower. The earl was tried by a jury of commoners, found guilty of treason, and executed. He was much lamented by his party, who threw the blame of his death on the Seymours, against whom they raised a general odium. The old duke saw a parliament called to destroy him by an act of attainder, for there was not matter enough to ruin him at common law. To prevent that, he made a very humble sub- mission to the king; but it had no effect. When the parliament met, the king was not able to come to Westminster, but sent his pleasure to them by a commission. He intended to have his son Edward crowned prince of Wales, and therefore desired they would make all possible haste in the attainder of the duke of Norfolk, so that the places which he held by patent might be disposed of to others, who should assist at the corona- tion; which, though it was a very slight excuse for so high a piece of injustice, yet it had such an effect that in seven days both houses passed the bill. On the 27th of January, the royal assent was given by those commissioned by the king; and the execution was ordered to be next morning. There was no special matter in the act, but that of the coat of arms, which he and his ancestors were used to give, according to the records in the herald's office; so that this was condemned as a most PAGE 466 inexcusable act of tyranny. But the night after, the king died; and it was thought contrary to the decencies of government, to begin a new reign with such an act, and so he was preserved. Cranmer would not interfere in this matter, but that he might be out of the way, retired to Croydon; whereas Gardiner, who had been friendly to the duke all along, continued still about the court. The king's distemper had been growing long upon him. He was become so corpulent that he could not go up and down stairs, but made use of an engine, when he intended to walk in his garden, by which he was let down and drawn up. He had an old wound in his leg, which pained him much, the humours of his body dis- charging themselves that way, till at last all settled in a dropsy. Those about him were afraid to let him know that his death seemed near, lest it might have been brought within the statute of foretelling his death, which was made treason. His will was made ready, and as it was given out, was signed by him on the 30th of December. He ordered Gar- diner's name to be struck out, who had been named one of the executors. When Sir Anthony Brown endeavoured to persuade him not to put that disgrace on an old servant, he continued positive in it; for he said he knew his temper, and could govern him; but it would not be in the power of others to do it, if he were put in so high a trust. The most material thing in the will was, that of preferring the children of his second sister, by Sir Charles Brandon, to the children of his eldest sister, the queen of Scotland, in the succession to the crown. On his death-bed he finished the foundation of Trinity-college, in Cambridge, and of Christ's-church hospital, near Newgate; but this last was not so fully settled as was needful, till his son completed what he had begun. On the 27th of January his spirits sunk so that is was visible he had not long to live. Sir Anthony Denny took the courage to tell him that death was approaching, and desired him to call on God for his mercy. He expressed in general his sorrow for his past sins, and his trust in the mercies of God in Christ Jesus. He ordered Cranmer to be sent for, but he was speechless before he could be brought from Croydon; yet he gave a sign that he understood what was said to him, and soon after he died, in the fifty-seventh year of his age, after he had reigned thirty-seven years and nine months. His death was concealed three days; for the parliament, which was dissolved with his last breath, continued to do business till the 31st, when his death was published. It is probable the Seymours concealed it so long, till they made a party for putting the government into their own hands. The severities which Henry used against many of his subjects, in matters of religion, made both sides write with great sharpness of him. His temper was imperious and cruel; he was both sudden and violent in his revenge, and stuck at nothing by which he could gratify his passions. These were much provoked by the sentence the pope thundered against him, by the virulent books cardinal Pole and others published, by the rebellions that were raised in Eng- land, and the apprehensions he was in of the emperor's greatness, and of the inclinations his people had to join with him, together with what he had read in history of the fates of those princes, against whom popes had thundered in former times: these considerations made him think it PAGE 467 necessary to keep his people under the terror of a severe government, and by some public examples to secure the peace of the nation, and thereby to prevent a more profuse effusion of blood, which might have otherwise followed if he had been more gentle; and it was no wonder, if after the pope deposed him, he proceeded to great severities against all who supported that authority. The first instance of capital proceeding upon that account, was in Easter term 1535, in which three priors and a monk of the Carthusian order were condemned of treason, for saying that the king was not supreme head of the church of England. It was then only premunire not to submit to the king's supremacy; but it was made treason to deny it, or speak against it. Hall, a secular priest, was condemned of treason, "for calling the king a tyrant, a heretic, a robber, and an adulterer; and saying that he would die as king John or Richard III. died; and that it would never be well with the church till the king was defunct: that they looked when Ireland and Wales would rise; and were assured that three parts of four in England would join with them." All these pleaded not guilty; but being condemned they justified what they had said. The Carthusians were hanged in their habits. Soon after three other Carthusians were condemned and executed at London, and two more at York, upon the same account, for opposing the king's supremacy. Ten other monks were shut up in their cells, of whom nine died there, and one was condemned and hanged. These had been all accomplices in the business of the maid of Kent, and though that was pardoned, yet it gave the government ground to have a watchful eye over them, and to proceed more severely against them upon the first provocation. After these Fisher and More were brought to their trials. The first was tried by a jury of commoners, and was found guilty of treason, for having spoken against the king's supremacy; but instead of the common death in cases of treason, the king ordered him to be beheaded. On the 22nd of June he suffered. He dressed himself with more than ordinary care that day, for he said it was to be his wedding day. As he was led out, he opened the New Testament at a venture, and prayed that such a place might turn up as would comfort him in his last moments. The words on which he cast his eyes were, "This is life eternal, to know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent." So he shut the book, and continued meditating on these words to the last. On the scaffold he repeated the Te Deum, and so laid his head on the block, which was severed from his body. He was learned and devout; but much addicted to superstition, and too cruel in his temper against heretics. It was harder to find matter against Sir Thomas More, for he was very cautious, and satisfied his own conscience by not swearing to the supremacy, but would not speak against it. He said the act had two edges, if he consented to it, it would damn his soul, and if he spoke against it, it would condemn his body, and that the matter of supremacy was a point of religion, to which the parliament's authority did not extend itself. He received his sentence with that equal temper of mind which he had shewed in both conditions of life. He expressed great contempt of the world, and much weariness in living in it. He was beheaded on the 6th of July, in the fifty-second or fifty-third year of his age. In his youth he had freer thoughts, but he was afterwards much corrupted by superstition, and became fierce for all the interests of the clergy. His learning in divinity was but ordinary; for he had read little more than some of St. Austin's treatises, and the canon law, and the master of the sentences, beyond which his quotations seldom go. There were no executions after these, till the rebellions of Lincolnshire and Yorkshire gave new occasions to severity; and then not only the lords of Darcy and Hussy, but six abbots, and many gentlemen, the chief of whom was Sir Thomas Percy, brother to the Earl of Northum- berland, were attainted. When these judgments and executions were over, a new and unheard-of precedent was made, of attainting some without bringing them to make their answers, which is a blemish on this reign that can never be washed off, and was a breach of the most sacred and unalterable rules of justice. In the year 1541, five priests, and ten laymen, stirred up the people in the North to a new rebellion; but it was prevented, and they suffered for it. In the year 1543, the bishop of Winchester's secretary, and three other priests, were condemned and executed, for denying the king's supremacy: and this was the last occa- sion given to the king to shew his severity on that account. In all these executions it cannot be denied but the laws were excessively severe, and the proceedings upon them never tempered with that mildness which ought to be often applied for the mitigating the rigour of penal statutes; but though they are much aggravated by popish writers, they were trifling, compared with the cruelties in Queen Mary's reign. Before we leave the martyrdoms of this reign, justice to the memory of two good men in humble life, who have been passed over in their proper place, requires that some record be preserved in this work of their sufferings. Their names were Bent and Trapnell, and they suffered short- ly after the heroic Thomas Bilney. They were Wiltshire men; and, as one suffered at Devizes and the other at Bradford in that county, it is likely they were born where they were martyred. Their offence was a resolute denial of the doctrine of transubstantiation. A curious incid- ent follows in the order of time. In the year 1532, there was an idol named the Rood of Dovercourt, whereunto was continually a great resort of people. For at that time there was a great rumour abroad amongst the ignorant, that the power of the idol of Dovercourt was so great, that no man could shut the church door where he stood; and therefore they let the door, both night and day, continually stand open, to give more credit to their blind rumour. This once being conceived in the heads of the vulgar sort, seemed a great miracle unto many; but to others again, whom God had blessed with his Spirit, was greatly suspected, especially to those whose names follow: Robert King of Dedham, Robert Debnam of Eastbergholt, Nicholas Marsh of Dedham, and Robert Gardiner of Dedham, whose consciences were burthened to see the honour and power of the Almighty God so blasphemed. Wherefore they were moved by the spirit of God to travel out of Dedham in a night suitable to their purpose, it being a hard frost, and moonlight, although the nights before were PAGE 469 exceeding foul and rainy. It was from the town of Dedham, to the place where the Rood stood, ten miles. Notwithstanding, they were so willing in that their enterprize, that they went this distance without pain, and found the church door open according to the blind talk of the ignorant people: for there durst no unfaithful body shut it. This happened well for their purpose; for they found the idol, which had as much power to keep the door shut as to keep it open. And for proof thereof, they took the image from its shrine, and carried it a quarter of a mile from the place where it stood, without any resistance from itself or any of its devotees. Whereupon they struck fire with a flint-stone, and suddenly set the idol on a blaze, who burned out so brightly that he lighted them homeward one good mile of the ten. This done, there went a great talk abroad that they should have great riches in that place; but it was very untrue; for it was not their thought or enterprize, as they themselves afterwards confessed, for there was nothing taken away but the coat, the shoes, and the tapers of the image. The tapers they used to burn him, the shoes they had again, and the coat one sir Thomas Rose burnt, but they had neither penny, halfpenny, gold, groat, nor jewel. However they could not hope to be deemed innocent, and soon three of them were in- dicted of felony, and hanged in chains within half-a-year after. Robert King was hanged in Dedham at Burchet; Robert Debnam at Catawaycawsey; and Nicholas Marsh at Dovercourt. They all, through the Spirit of God at their death, did more edify the people in godly learning, than all the sermons that had been preached there a long time before. Robert Gardiner escaped their hands and fled. Although great search was made after him, the Lord preserved him; to whom be all honour and glory, world without end. The example of these resolute men was followed in other instances. The same year there were many images cast down and destroyed in many places: as the image of the crucifix in the highway of Cogshal, the image of St. Petronil in the church of great Horksleigh, the image of St. Christopher by Sudbury, and another image of St. Petronil in a chapel at Ipswich. The most remarkable act was that of John Seward of Dedham, who overthrew the cross in Stoke park, and took two images out of a chapel in the park, and cast them into the water. He however escaped the punishment threatened against such desperate heretics. We proceed to Exeter, honoured by the martyrdom of Thomas Benet, who was born in Cambridge, and by order of degree of the university there made M.A. He was formerly a priest, a man well learned and of a godly dispo- sition, intimately acquainted with Thomas Bilney, the glorious martyr of Christ. The more he increased in the knowledge of God and his holy word, the more he disliked the corrupt state of religion then used; and there- fore thinking his own country to be no safe place for him to remain in, and being desirous to live in more freedom of conscience, he quitted the university, and went into Devonshire, in the year 1524, and resided at Torrington, a market-town, both town and country being to him altogether unknown, as he was also unknown to all men there. There, for the better maintenance of himself and his wife, he taught young children, and kept PAGE 470 a school for the purpose. But that town not serving his expectation, after his abode there one year, he removed to the city of Exeter, and hiring a house resumed his teaching, and by that means maintained his wife and family. He was of a quiet behaviour, of a godly conversation, and of a very courteous nature, humble to all men, and offensive to none. His greatest delight was to be at all sermons and preachings, whereof he was a diligent and attentive hearer, and he devoted all his leisure to the study of the Scriptures, having no dealings nor confer- ences with any body, saving with such as he could learn and understand to be favourers of the gospel. Understanding that William Strowd, of Newnham, in the county of Devon, Esq. was committed to the bishop's prison in Exeter upon suspicion of heresy, although he was not before acquainted with him, yet did he send letters of consolation to him. In one of these letters, to avoid all suspicion which might be conceived of him, he disclosed himself, and said- "Because I would not be a whoremon- ger, or an unclean person, I married a wife, with whom I have hidden myself in Devonshire, from the tyranny of the antichristians these six years." But as every tree and herb hath its due time to bring forth its fruit, so did it appear by this man. For daily seeing the glory of God to be so blasphemed, idolatrous religion so embraced and maintained, and the usurped power of the bishop of Rome so extolled, he was so grieved in conscience, and troubled in spirit, that he could not be quiet till he uttered his mind therein. Wherefore dealing privately with certain of his friends, he plainly disclosed how blasphemously and abominably God was dishonoured, his word contemned, and the people, by blind guides, carried headlong to everlasting damnation. In fact he could no longer endure, but must needs utter their abominations publicly, and for his own part, for the testimony of his conscience, and for the defence of God's true religion, would yield himself most patiently, as God would give him grace, to die and shed his blood therein; alleging that his death should be more profitable to the church of God, and for the edify- ing of his people, than his life should be. To whose persuasions when his friends had yielded, they promised to pray to God for him, that he might be strong in the cause, and continue a faithful soldier to the end. This done, he gave order for bestowing of such books as he had, and shortly after, in the month of October, he wrote his mind in certain scrolls of paper, which privately he affixed upon the doors of the cathedral church of the city, in which was written - "The pope is anti- christ, and we ought to worship God only, and no saints." These bills being found, there was no small ado, and no little search made for the heretic who had set them up. Orders were given that the doctors should haste to the pulpit every day, and confute this heresy. Nevertheless, Benet keeping his own doings in secret, went the Sunday following to the cathedral church to the sermon, and by chance sate down by two men, who had been the busiest in all the city in seeking and searching for heret- ics; and they beholding Benet, said the one to the other, Surely this fellow is the heretic that hath set up the bills, and it were good to examine him. Nevertheless when they had well beheld him, and saw the PAGE 471 quiet and sober behaviour of the man, his attentiveness to the preacher, his godliness in the church, being always occupied in his book, which was a Testament in the Latin tongue, they were astonished and had no power to speak to him, but departed and left him reading his book. Meanwhile the canons and priests, with the officers and commons of that city, were earnestly busied, by what means such an enormous heretic might be espied and known; but it was long before they obtained a clue to the man. At last the priests found out a toy to curse him, whatsoever he were, with book, bell, and candle; which curse at that day, seemed most fearful and terrible. The manner of the curse was after this sort. One of the priests, apparelled in white, ascended the pulpit. The other rabblement, with certain of the two orders of friars, and some supersti- tious monks of St. Nicholas standing round about, and the cross being holden up with holy candles of wax fixed to the same, he began his sermon with this theme of Joshua: Est blasphemia in castris - there is a curse in the camp. On this he made a long protestation, but not so long as tedious and superstitious; and concluded, that the foul and abomi- nable heretic who had put up such a foul and blasphemous bill, was for that his blasphemy damnably cursed, and besought God, our lady, St. Peter, patron of that church, with all the holy company of martyrs, confessors, and virgins, that it might be known what heretic had done the accursed thing! Then followed the curse, uttered by the priest in these words:- "By the authority of God the Father Almighty, and of the blessed Vigin Mary, of St. Peter and Paul, and of the holy saints, we excommunicate, we utterly curse and ban, commit and deliver to the devil of hell, him or her, whatsoever he or she be, that have in spite of God and of St. Peter, whose church this is, in spite of all holy saints, and in spite of our most holy father the pope, God's vicar here on earth, and in spite of the reverend father in God, John our diocesan, and the worshipful canons, masters, and priests, and clerks, which serve God daily in this cathedral church, fixed up with wax such cursed and heret- ical bill full of blasphemy, upon the doors of this and other holy churches within this city. Excommunicate plainly be he or she plenally, or they, and delivered over to the devil, as perpetual malefactors and schismatics. Accursed may they be, and given body and soul to the devil. Cursed be they, he or she, in cities and towns, in fields, in ways, in paths, in houses, out of houses, and in all other places, standing, lying, rising, walking, running, waking, sleeping, eating, drinking, and whatsoever thing they do besides. We separate them, him or her, from the threshold, and from all the good prayers of the church, from the partic- ipation of the holy mass, from all sacraments, chapels, and altars, from holy bread and holy water, from all the merits of God's priests, and religious men, and from all their cloisters, all their pardons, privi- leges, grants, and immunities, which all the holy fathers, popes of Rome, have granted to them. We give them over utterly to the power of the fiend, and let us quench their souls, if they be dead, this night in the pains of hell-fire, as this candle is now quenched and put out - with that he put out one of the candles. And let us pray to God, if they PAGE 472 be alive, that their eyes may be put out, as this candle light is - then he put out the other candle: and let us pray to God and to our lady, and to St. Peter and Paul, and all holy saints, that all the senses of their bodies may fail them, and that they may have no feeling, as now the light of this candle is gone - putting out the third candle - except they, he, or she, come openly now and confess their blasphemy, and by repentance make satisfaction unto God, our lady, St. Peter, and the worshipful company of this cathedral church; and this holy cross staff now falleth down, so may they, except they repent and shew themselves." Here one first taking away the cross, the staff fell down: and then what a shout and noise was there! what terrible fear! what holding up hands to heaven, to hear this terrible denunciation! This foolish fantasy and mockery being done and played, which was to a Christian heart a thing ridiculous, Benet could no longer forbear, but fell into laughter within himself, and for a great space could not cease, by the which thing the poor man was discovered. For those that were next to him, wondering at that great curse, and believing that it could not but light on one or the other, asked Benet, for what cause he should so laugh. "My friends," said he, "who can forbear, hearing such merry conceits and interludes?" Straightway a noise was made, "Here is the heretic! here is the heretic! Hold him fast! hold him fast!" With that there was a great confusion of voices, and much clapping of hands, and yet they were uncertain whether he were the heretic or not. Some say that upon the same he was taken and apprehended. Others report, that his enemies, being uncertain of him, departed, and so he went home to his house; where he, being not able to digest the lies there preached, renewed his former bills, and caused his boy, early in the morning following, to replace them upon the gates of the churchyard. As the boy was performing his office at a gate, called "The Little Stile," it chanced that one going to the cathedral to hear mass, called Barton's Mass, which was daily said about five of the clock in the morning, found the boy at the gate, and asking him whose boy he was, charged him to be the heretic which had set the bills upon the gates; wherefore pulling them down, he brought the same together with the boy before the mayor; and thereupon Benet, being known and taken, was violently committed to prison. On the morrow began both the canons and heads of the city to fall to examination. Benet for that day had not much communication with them, but confessed and said to them, "It was even I that put up those bills; and if it were to do, I would do it again; for in them I have written nothing but that is very truth." "Couldst not thou," said they "as well have declared thy mind by word of mouth, as by putting up bills of blasphemy?" "No," said he, "I put up the bills, that many should read and hear what abominable blasphemers ye are, and that they might the better know your antichrist, the pope, to be that boar out of the woods, which throweth down the hedges of God's church; for if I had been heard to speak but one word, I should have been clapped fast in prison, and the matter of God hidden. But now I trust more of your blasphemous doings will thereby be opened and come to PAGE 473 light; for God so will have it, and no longer will suffer you to prosti- tute his service and truth unrebuked. The next day he was sent unto the bishop, who first committed him to prison, where he was kept in stocks and strong irons. Then the bishop associating unto him one Dr. Brewer his chancellor, and other of his lewd clergy and friars, began to exam- ine him and burthen him, that contrary to the Catholic faith, he denied praying to saints, and the supremacy of the pope. To this he answered in such sober manner, and so learnedly proved and defended his assertions, that he did not only confound and put to silence his adversaries, but also brought them in great admiration of him, the most part having pity and compassion on him. The friars took great pains with him to persuade him to recant and acknowledge his fault, touching the bills; but it was in vain, for God had manifestly appointed him to be a witness of his holy name. To declare here with what cruelty the officers searched his house for bills and books, how cruelly and shamefully they handled his wife, charging her with divers enormities, it were too long to write. But she, like a good woman, took all things patiently, as in other things she was contented to bear the cross with him, to fare hardly with him at home, and to live with coarse meat and drink, that they might be the more able somewhat to help the poor, which they did to the uttermost of their power. Among other priests, Gregory Basset was most busy with him. Basset was learned, and had a pleasant tongue, and not long before had fallen from the truth, for which he had been imprisoned in Bristol; at whose examination there was provided and set before him a great pan of fire, where his holy brethren, as the report went abroad, menaced to burn his hands off: whereupon he recanted, and became afterward a mortal enemy to the truth. He was fervent with Benet, to please the canons of the church, and marvellously tormented his brains how to turn him from his opinions, and was so diligent with him that he would not depart the prison, but lay there night and day. He, notwithstanding, lost his labour: for Benet made it a point of conscience not to deny Christ before men, upon which Gregory, with the other holy fathers, said in open audience, "There was never so obstinate a heretic." The principal point between Basset and him was touching the supremacy of the bishop of Rome, whom in his bills he named "Antichrist, the thief, the mercenary, and murderer of Christ's flock." These disputations lasted about eight days, during which at sundry times repaired to him both the black and grey friars, with priests and monks of that city. They who had some learning persuaded him to leave the church, and shewed by what tokens she is known. The unlearned railed, and said, that the devil tempted him, and spat upon him, calling him heretic: while he prayed God to give them a better mind and to forgive them. He boldly said, "I will rather die, than worship such a beast, the very whore of Babylon, and a false usurper, as manifestly doth appear by his doings." They asked, "What doth the pope that he has not authority to do, being God's vicar?" "He doth," quoth he, "sell the sacraments for money, he selleth remission of sins for money, and so do you likewise: for there is no day but ye say divers masses for souls in purgatory: yea, and ye spare not to make PAGE 474 lying sermons to the people, to maintain your false traditions and foul gains. The whole world begins now to note your doings, to your utter confusion and shame." "The shame," said they, "shall be to thee, and such as thee, foul heretic. Wilt thou allow nothing done in holy church?" "I am," said he, "no heretic, but a Christian, I thank Christ, and with all my heart will allow all things done and used in the church to the glory of God, and edifying of my soul: but I see nothing in your church, but what maintaineth the devil." "What is our church?" said they. "It is not my church," quoth Benet; "God give me grace to be of a better church, for verily your church is the church of antichrist, the malignant church, the false church, a den of thieves, and as far wide from the true universal and apostolic church, as heaven is distant from the earth." "Dost not thou think," said they, "that we pertain to the universal church?" "Yes," quoth he, "but as dead members, unto whom the church is not beneficial: for your works are the devices of men, and your church a weak foundation; for ye say and preach, that the pope's word is equal with God's in every degree." "Why," said they, "did not Christ say to Peter, to thee I will give the keys of the kingdom of Heaven?" "He said that," quoth he, "to all the apostles as well as Peter, and Peter had no more authority given him than the rest, or else the churches planted in every kingdom by their preaching are no church- es. Doth not St. Paul say, 'Upon the foundations of the apostles and prophets?' Therefore I say plainly, that the church that is built upon a man, is a man's church and not God's. And as every church this day is appointed to be ruled by a bishop or pastor, ordained by the word of God for preaching and administration of the sacraments under the prince, the supreme governor under God; so, to say that all the churches with their princes and governors be subject unto one bishop is detestable heresy; and the pope, your god, challenging this power to himself, is the great- est schismatic that ever was in the church, and the most foul whore; of whom John, in the Revelation, speaketh." "O thou blind and unlearned fool," said they, "is not the confession and consent of all the world as we confess and consent; that the pope's holiness is the supreme head and vicar of Christ?" "That is," said Benet, "because they are blinded and know not the scriptures: but if God would of his mercy open the eyes of princes to know their office, his false supremacy would soon decay." "We think," said they, "thou art so malicious, that thou wilt confess no church." "Look," said he, "where they are that confess the true name of Jesus Christ, where only Christ is the head, and under him the prince of the realm, to order bishops, ministers, and preachers, and to see them do their duties in setting forth the glory of God by preaching his word; and where it is preached, that Christ is our only advocate, mediator, and patron before his Father, making intercession for us; and where the true faith and confidence in Christ's death and passion, and his only merits and deservings are extolled, and our own depressed; where the sacrament is duly without superstition or idolatry administered in remembrance of his blessed passion, and only sacrifice upon the cross once for all, and where no superstition reigneth - of that church will I be." PAGE 475 "Doth not the pope," said they, "confess the true gospel? and do not we all the same?" "Yes," said he, "but ye deny the fruits thereof in every point. Ye build upon the sands, not upon the rock." "And wilt thou not believe indeed," said they, "that the pope is God's vicar?" "No," said he, "indeed! And that because he usurpeth a power not given him of Christ, any more than to other apostles; also because by force of that usurped supremacy, he blinds the whole world, and doth contrary to all that ever Christ ordained or commanded." "What," said they, "if he do all things after God's ordinance and commandment should he then be his vicar?" "Then," said he, "would I believe him to be a good bishop at Rome over his own diocese, but to have no further power. And if it pleased God, I would every bishop did this in his diocese: then should we live a peaceable life in the church of Christ, and there should be no seditions therein. If every bishop would seek no further power, it were a goodly thing. But now, because all are subject to one, they must do and consent to all wickedness as he doeth, or be none of his. This is the cause of great superstition in every kingdom; and what bishop soever he be that preacheth the gospel, and maintaineth the truth, is a true bishop of the church." "And doth not," said they, "our holy father the pope maintain the gospel?" "Yea," said he, "I think he doth read it, and peradventure believe it, and so do you also; but neither he nor you do fix the anchor of your salvation therein. Besides that, ye bear such a good will to it, that ye keep it close, and no man may read it but yourselves. And when you preach, God knows how you handle it: insomuch,