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                                                      APRIL 1, 1837.

The publishers have great pleasure in offering to the public, the
following notices of this work. They feel well assured, that the well
known character of the sources from which they come, will secure for
them all the attention and credit which can be desired.

                                           _Gambier, Feb. 24, 1837._

   MESSRS. WM. MARSHALL & CO.

   GENTLEMEN:--You are perfectly welcome to the use of my
   name, in recommendation of the “Library of Christian Knowledge,”
   so far as it has been published, as a valuable depositary of the
   precious things of “the glorious Gospel of the blessed God;” to
   which no inquiring mind can apply in a prayerful spirit, without
   edification. Though I know not what works are to follow, I have
   entire confidence, that the editor, the Rev. H. Hooker, will
   select such only, as will be “for the edifying of the body of
   Christ.” Yours, very truly,

                                     CHARLES P. M’ILVAINE, D. D.
                                                   _Bishop of Ohio._


               _St. Mary’s Parsonage, Burlington, 30th March, 1837._

   MESSRS. WM. MARSHALL & CO.

   At a time when the country is inundated with a flood of trash,
   I have regarded your proposal to publish a LIBRARY OF
   CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE, as an auspicious sign of the times;
   and I most heartily bid you “God speed!” in your commendable
   enterprise. Thus far, my numerous avocations have prevented my
   particular attention to the volumes which compose it, and I can,
   therefore, speak with confidence only of two of the series. The
   volume which you have now in press, Blunt’s _Sketch of the
   Reformation in England_, I have long considered among the
   most valuable books which the Church of England, fruitful in
   all good works, has lately produced; and the volume entitled,
   _Popular Infidelity_, written for the series by my
   accomplished and intelligent friend, the Editor, will take its
   place among the standard books of our language. If, indeed, I
   had seen none of the series, such is my confidence, founded
   on long and intimate acquaintance, in the Rev. HERMAN
   HOOKER, who has charge of it, that I should not hesitate to
   commend the undertaking to the confidence of the Church, and to
   the acceptance of the whole community. Praying fervently that
   HE, who in every good work gives the increase, may
   direct this Christian enterprise, and make it promotive of the
   Gospel in the Church, I remain very respectfully yours,

                                              G. W. DOANE, D. D.
                                             _Bishop of New Jersey._


                                       _Philadelphia, Feb. 8, 1837._

   MESSRS. WM. MARSHALL, & CO.

   GENTLEMEN:--In reply to your communication, in
   reference to the “Library of Christian Knowledge,” edited by the
   Rev. Herman Hooker, I take pleasure in saying, that I regard
   it as one of the most valuable and substantial publications
   of the present day. The original works from the pen of the
   talented editor, I regard, as among the ablest productions of
   modern times; and his excellent taste has led him to select from
   the English writers, some of the richest stores of theological
   truth. I rejoice to know, that this work is to be continued,
   and I wish it all success. In my view, both the editor and the
   publisher, are conferring upon the country a rich blessing in
   this publication.

                                                  JOHN A. CLARK,
                      _Rector of St. Andrew’s Church, Philadelphia_.


                                   _Princeton, N. J. Feb. 18, 1837._

   The “Library of Christian Knowledge,” edited by the Rev.
   Herman Hooker, and published by Marshall & Co. in a series of
   small volumes, is upon a plan well calculated to be useful.
   The publication of religious treatises, characterised by
   sound evangelical sentiments, and animated with the spirit of
   genuine piety, cannot but be highly beneficial to the Christian
   community.

   The five volumes of this series which have been already
   published, meet with my cordial approbation; and if these may
   be considered a fair specimen of those which are to follow, the
   work may be safely recommended, as furnishing materials for a
   valuable CHRISTIAN LIBRARY.

                                                      A. ALEXANDER,
    _Prof. of Didactic Theology, in the Theological Seminary,
                                                         Princeton_.


                                         _Princeton, Feb. 16, 1837._

   MESSRS. WM. MARSHALL & CO.

   GENTLEMEN:--I have attended with much interest to
   the volumes of the “Library of Christian Knowledge,” as they
   have successively appeared; and exceedingly rejoice, both
   in the plan of the work, and thus far, in its execution. I
   have a high opinion of the piety and the talents of the Rev.
   Mr. HOOKER, the editor, and consider him as well
   qualified to conduct a work of this nature. If the future
   volumes should bear a stamp similar to that of those which
   have hitherto appeared, I shall be glad--and every friend of
   genuine Christianity, I should hope, would be glad--to see them
   universally circulated. Wishing you, and the excellent editor,
   every encouragement in this publication, I am, gentlemen,
   respectfully yours,

                                                  SAMUEL MILLER,
    _Professor of Eccl. History in the Theological Seminary,
                                                         Princeton_.


                                      _Philadelphia, March 2, 1837._

   MESSRS. WM. MARSHALL & CO.

   GENTLEMEN:--I have just received your communication of
   the 28th ult. respecting the “Library of Christian Knowledge,”
   now in the course of publication by you. I had supposed that the
   work had already established for itself such a character, as to
   need no recommendation from any quarter. But, as you are pleased
   to suppose that my opinion of it, may be of some use in aiding
   its circulation, I cannot refuse to give it to you. And I can
   truly say, that, judging from the character of the works already
   published in the series, I think it a most valuable publication;
   and one well calculated to introduce and cherish a taste for
   literature of a high order, and for religious sentiments,
   the most evangelical and pure. As to the Rev. Mr. Hooker,
   your editor, I regard him as one of our most accomplished and
   intellectual men. Any thing that he adjudges fit for the press,
   and any thing that comes from his pen, has for me sufficient
   recommendation in that very fact. His name ought to be, for
   any work, a full passport to the confidence of the public. His
   work on “Popular Infidelity,” alone, which makes up your fifth
   volume, is of itself sufficient to secure him a high and lasting
   reputation, as a man of profound thinking, of very great logical
   power, and of very enviable literary attainments. I think that
   volume alone will be worth the price of the whole set. Wishing
   you success in your laudable enterprise, I am, gentlemen, very
   respectfully, your obedient servant,

                                        HENRY W. DUCACHET, M. D.
                             _Rector of St. Stephens, Philadelphia._


                                     _Philadelphia, March 17, 1837._

   MESSRS. WM. MARSHALL & CO.

   GENTLEMEN:--I have read several of the volumes of the
   “Library of Christian Knowledge,” edited by the Rev. H. Hooker,
   and desire to express my strong sense of the importance of
   the project, and of the worth of the books, which have been
   published. It is a very important design which proposes to turn
   the reading of the religious community, from the lighter works
   of imagination which have been rather gaining in popularity
   among such readers, to a grave and instructive class of books.
   I consider Mr. Hooker’s selection, to have been eminently
   judicious, as far as regards the real improvement of his
   readers; though I should not be surprised, if some less useful
   works, should outstrip these, in the market. The worth of a
   book is too much determined, by the way it sells. If the actual
   value is the standard of estimation, the Library of Christian
   Knowledge, will stand very high. Respectfully yours,

                                              STEPHEN H. TYNG, D. D.



   _From the Rev. Charles Henry Alden, A. M. Principal of the
   Philadelphia High School for Young Ladies, No. 6 Portico Square._

   As editor of the “Library of Christian Knowledge,” it is
   difficult to conceive of one better qualified in all respects,
   than the Rev. Mr. Hooker. Remarkable for his mental discipline;
   familiar with our literature, and especially with the higher
   order of Theological Letters; habitually conversant with
   principles of human nature, and embracing in his wishes to
   benefit others, all sensible and good men, he has rendered a
   most acceptable service to your readers, and secured an enviable
   distinction to himself.

   The selected works so far are, in my judgment, most excellent.
   “M’Laurin’s Essays” can never be depreciated but by such as
   have no sympathy with intellectual elevation and manly piety.
   “Goode’s Better Covenant” has already passed to the second
   edition; and few men of intelligence, but must admire its
   chaste, simple and manly style; and its clear discrimination and
   affecting views of Christian doctrines and Christian duties.
   “Russell’s Letters,” comprising No. 3 and 4, are of far more
   extensive application than their title imports. No person of
   reflection, whether he be a religious man or not, can fail of
   finding both interest and profit in the reading. No. 5, Mr.
   Hooker’s original work, has been so recently published, and so
   extensively spoken well of, that I will say only, that if a man
   desires the best of company, in which he will find what will
   please and improve and dignify, during his reading hours, let
   him discourse with “Hooker’s Popular Infidelity.” Yours, very
   respectfully,

                                            CHARLES HENRY ALDEN.

    _Feb. 20, 1837._


                                         _Baltimore, Feb. 15, 1837._

   MESSRS. WM. MARSHALL & CO.

   GENTLEMEN:--In answer to yours of the 4th inst. it
   gives me pleasure to state, that I have read the volumes of the
   “Library of Christian Knowledge,” already published, and am
   gratified that evangelical works of such distinguished merit
   have been offered to the reading community in a form so popular
   and attractive. You have done well, I think, in securing the
   editorial services of the talented author of “The Portion of
   the Soul,” and “Popular Infidelity,” whose well known taste and
   established orthodoxy, give assurance that he will select no
   works, that will not be worthy of perusal, and well adapted to
   the peculiar wants of the church, at this interesting period.

   I am happy to find, that you design to continue the publication
   of the Library, and sincerely hope that you will be sustained
   in it by the liberal patronage of the Christian public. Yours,
   respectfully,

                                         J. P. K. HENSHAW, D. D.


                                   _Philadelphia, March 13th, 1837._

   MESSRS. WM. MARSHALL & CO.

   GENTLEMEN:--I am gratified to learn, that you are
   about issuing a sixth volume of your “Library of Christian
   Knowledge.” The volumes already published constitute a very
   valuable accession to our stock of religious literature, and are
   worthy of a place in every Christian family. The editor is well
   known to the public, as the author of several practical works
   of great value; and I am acquainted with no man who is better
   qualified than himself, to superintend a publication of the kind
   in question. Believing as I do, that you are very effectually
   promoting the interests of true religion, by placing within the
   reach of American Christians, such works as those contemplated
   in the plan of your library, I trust the enterprise will receive
   a liberal and growing patronage, which will enable you to make
   it, in extent as well as in character, a complete “Library of
   Christian Knowledge.” I am, very respectfully, yours, &c.

                                                 H. A. BOARDMAN,
            _Pastor of the Tenth Presbyterian Church, Philadelphia_.


                                       _Baltimore, Feb. 27th, 1837._

   MESSRS. WM. MARSHALL & CO.

   GENTLEMEN:--I am extremely sorry, that it is not in
   my power to comply with the request contained in your letter.
   The difficulty arises from no indisposition to accommodate you,
   nor from any want of confidence in the work, with which you are
   furnishing the public, but simply from the fact, that I have
   only the last three volumes of the series, and of these, have
   been so situated, as to have read only volumes three and four.
   If I had the leisure at present, it would give me pleasure
   to procure and peruse the others; and then forward you the
   recommendation, which I am sure I should feel authorised to give.

   “Russell’s Letters,” I have read with more satisfaction than I
   have derived from most of the modern publications which have
   come under my notice; and I do not hesitate to say, that the
   pleasure of perusing those two volumes, would be an equivalent
   for the price of the five. In the competency of the editor
   to continue the series, I have full confidence. He has given
   sufficient proof in the character of the selections already
   made. I am therefore gratified to learn that the “Library of
   Christian Knowledge” is to be enlarged. In haste, yours truly,

                                                 J. JOHNS, D. D.


   MESSRS. WM. MARSHALL & CO.

   GENTLEMEN:--Your favour of the 13th inst. was duly
   received. But the engagements of the season, through which we
   have been passing, must be my apology for not sooner returning
   an answer.

   I have not read all the volumes of “The Library of Christian
   Knowledge,” but what I have read, and especially what I know
   of their able and pious editor, and of his writings, make me
   confident in saying that the series which he is engaged in
   publishing, will prove a valuable addition to the religious
   literature of the country. We need a multiplication of such men
   as Mr. Hooker, and of such works as he writes and publishes; and
   this need should lead us to receive most thankfully, and improve
   most faithfully, so far as it shall extend the rich supply which
   he is furnishing. Very respectfully, your friend,

                                                  JOHN I. STONE,
                              _Rector of St. Paul’s Church, Boston_.
    _March 27th, 1837._


                                     _Philadelphia, March 31, 1837._

   MESSRS. WM. MARSHALL & CO.

   GENTLEMEN:--Few men exert a more decided, extensive,
   and lasting influence upon society than Booksellers; and in
   these times, when so many prostitute the press to gratify and
   increase the appetite for books that are worthless, or decidedly
   immoral in their tendency; it is exceedingly gratifying to find
   here a firm, who bring nothing before the world which can injure
   their race. So far as I have noticed, you have as yet published
   nothing at which you need blush, should you meet the book on the
   parlour table of your best friend.

   Among others of your productions, I have read your “Library of
   Christian Knowledge,” edited by Mr. Hooker. Ever since I read
   the little work of Mr. H. entitled “The Portion of the Soul,” I
   have felt sure, that he was safe; by which I mean, that any work
   to which he might prefix his name, would be a sound, discreet,
   judicious book. His taste is correct, discriminating; and his
   own pen at times, is guided by a hand of no ordinary strength.
   Honestly attached to the Episcopal Church, he, nevertheless,
   is so endowed with the limbs of a man, and the heart of a
   Christian, that his denominational habits do not hinder him
   from appearing in a _working dress_, in the vineyard
   of his Master. I can sincerely recommend the “Library,” as
   containing such works of practical piety, as will be useful
   in every family, and I could wish that the circulation of such
   works might banish the light reading of the age. I hope your
   circulation will be very extensive. Respectfully yours,

                                                        J. TODD.

       *       *       *       *       *

   THE LIBRARY OF CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE. Edited by the Rev. Herman
   Hooker, A. M. Author of “The Portion of the Soul,” &c.

Four volumes of this series have appeared, and if we may consider these
as a specimen of the work, we congratulate the Christian public on the
prospect of being supplied from time to time, with a rich feast of
evangelical matter, calculated to give nourishment and refreshment to
the spiritual life of believers.

M’Laurin’s Essays is not a recent work, but the lapse of years can
never destroy its value. While the observations of the author are
strictly orthodox, they are philosophical, and if read with candour
and attention, must have a powerful effect in correcting mistakes and
expelling prejudices where they have been imbibed, and in enlightening
the mind, and invigorating the faith of the sincere Christian. We would
strongly recommend the perusal and reperusal of these essays to the
young theologian. Too great a proportion of time, we fear, is spent
by the young ministers of our day in light reading, which, while it
gratifies a prurient curiosity, has no tendency to strengthen the mind.
The effect produced is superficial knowledge, and a distaste for deep
and solid research. Religious people are now distinguished for bustling
activity and a show of benevolence and zeal; but there exists a sad
deficiency of profound and systematic knowledge even in those who have
enjoyed the advantages of a liberal education.

The whole life and energies of M’Laurin were devoted to the highest
good of his fellow men; and this lovely principle beams forth
brightly in his works. Originality, truth, and beauty, are prominent
characteristics of his writings. * * His elements of thought, from
whatever source they are drawn, from external Nature, from the
exercises and sentiments of the soul, or from the mysteries of
redemption, are formed into complete emblems of the richness and
peculiarity of the mind from which they proceed. The advantages of a
well balanced mind, of a proper discipline of all the powers, and a
nice adjustment of them to each other, is strikingly seen in these
essays.

In conclusion, we would say the richness and power of thought, the
simplicity and greatness of conception in M’Laurin can be realised
only by his readers; and to those who would study the revelation of
God to man, in its symmetry, its magnitude, its intrinsic excellence,
“its easy, free, and unincumbered plan,” these essays will be a most
powerful assistance.--_N. Y. Literary and Theological Review._

       *       *       *       *       *

LIBRARY OF CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE, _Vols. 3, 4, 5; Edited by
Rev. Herman Hooker. Philadelphia: W. Marshall, 1836_.--This series
is, as a course of rare and valuable works in the practical department
of theology, far in advance of any that has ever been published in the
United States. “M’Laurin’s Essays,” and “Goode’s Better Covenant,”
the first of the course, are intellectually and evangelically works
of such high character, and withal, so little known hitherto to the
American public, that Mr. Hooker has already won for his “Library”
golden opinions, and the announcement of a new volume of the series,
is taken by the reading community as an invitation to a spiritual
and intellectual banquet, where “nothing common or unclean” will be
presented to the taste. Vols. 3 and 4 contain “_Letters Practical
and Consolatory; designed to illustrate the nature and Tendency of the
Gospel; by the Rev. David Russell, D. D.; with an Introductory Essay,
by the Rev. H. A. Boardman, Philadelphia_.” The hasty glance which
we have had opportunity to bestow on these volumes, has satisfied us
that they are worthy successors to those of the series already before
the public. This is sufficient praise. The 5th volume contains an
essay by the Editor, the Rev. Herman Hooker, A. M. on “_Popular
Infidelity_.” Mr. Hooker is already extensively and favourably known
as an author, through his work, entitled “The Portion of the Soul.”
We have read his volume on “Popular Infidelity,” much to our pleasure
and edification. Mr. Hooker has a clear and philosophical mind, which
analyses truth to its simplest elements, and presents it in pure,
plain, Saxon English.--_Christian Witness, Boston, Aug. 12, 1836._

       *       *       *       *       *

   THE BETTER COVENANT PRACTICALLY CONSIDERED. By the Rev. Francis
   Goode. Vol. 2, Library of Christian Knowledge.

THE BETTER COVENANT.--This work of the Rev. FRANCIS GOODE, has recently
been published as the second volume of the _Library of Christian
Knowledge_, by Messrs. W. Marshall & Co. of this city. The best
characteristic of the work probably is, its faithful development of
Scriptural truth, in language entirely appropriate to the importance
of the subject, while it is so clear and satisfactory as to be easily
understood by the plainest reader. Its character in other respects is
well and justly expressed in the letter of Bishop M’Ilvaine contained
in the preface.--_Episcopal Recorder._


               _From the N. Y. Christian Intelligencer._

THE BETTER COVENANT.--We have read this work, of which we
had not previously heard, with great and unmingled pleasure. It has
reminded us of Jewell, Hopkins, Leighton, &c. of the church of which
he is a member, in generations gone by, as well as Owen, Flava, &c.
among the non-conformists, as it unfolded the choicest of matter, of
sound evangelical doctrine moulded in the happiest form of experience,
and practice. The author is at present lecturer at Clapham, known to
many as the residence of Wilberforce, Thornton, and others greatly
distinguished by piety and philanthropy, and was formerly lecturer in
the mission church in Calcutta. Bishop M’Ilvaine in a recommendatory
letter thus speaks of it: “As a book of divinity; divinity as it should
be, not cold, and abstract and dead, freezing the affections while it
exercises the intellect, but retaining the living beauty, and heart
affecting interest of the revelation it proceeds from--divinity adapted
to the intellectual wants of the closest students of divine truth,
which provides the simplest, and sweetest nourishment for the spiritual
necessities of the humblest Christian;--As a book of practical piety,
especially in regard to the display it gives of the nothingness of the
sinner out of Christ, and the completeness of the believer in Christ,
and its tendency to promote a spirit of active, cheerful obedience, by
all those motives of thankfulness, love, peace, and joyful hope, which
belong to the adoption of sons--I know of no book of the present age
more valuable. Students of divinity will find it a book to be studied.
Readers of devotional writings will find it full of divine knowledge,
of experimental truth, and of excitements to prayer, and praise.” With
this strong recommendation of Bishop M’Ilvaine, we feel ourselves
willing to accord.

The first volume of the series of the Library of religious knowledge,
is M’Laurin’s Essays, a work of acknowledged standard excellence. If
the succeeding volumes should be equally valuable with the two already
published, the series will have a just claim upon the patronage of
our religious public. We have seen it stated that it is designed to
introduce into the series, _Letters on Religious Subjects, by the
Rev. David Russell, of Dundee, Scotland_, a work little known to
American Christians, but of very sterling merit.


                    _From the Episcopal Recorder._

THE BETTER COVENANT PRACTICALLY CONSIDERED.--The above is the
title of a work which has recently been published in this city, as
the third volume of the Christian Family Library, edited by the Rev.
Herman Hooker. The author is the Rev. Francis Goode, of the Church of
England, an accomplished scholar, and most devout and godly man. Many
excellent treatises upon practical and experimental religion have been
issued from the press within the last few years, but none that we have
seen is at all to be compared with this. Indeed, we think it decidedly
the best book of the kind we have ever read. We know of none in which
the glory and excellency of Christ’s salvation is so clearly, fully and
delightfully presented to the mind. Throughout, Christ crucified is
all in all to the sinner’s soul. Accordingly, as it richly deserves,
it is spoken of in the highest terms of commendation, by both clergy
and laity. Some of the former, believing that they could not in any
other way more effectually preach the Gospel in all its freeness
and richness, have even recommended it from the pulpit to their
congregations.

We would wish to see his book in every family in the land. We are
deeply persuaded that no Christian could rise from its perusal without
more enlarged and affecting views of what his Saviour had done for him,
without more humility, penitence and gratitude to God, and without a
more fixed determination, or divine aid, to follow on to know the Lord
and to be filled with all the fullness of God.

       *       *       *       *       *

GOODE’S BETTER COVENANT.--We have had but little time to examine this
book; but have seen enough of it to desire the opportunity of giving it
an attentive perusal. It is undoubtedly a _good_ book, written by one
who gives strong evidence of his own personal interest in the _better
Covenant_ than the covenant of works. He is much of an old fashioned
divine for one of modern times, who makes Christ all in all in the
sinner’s salvation. The edition of GOODE, published by Wm. Marshall,
Philadelphia, contains a preface and table of contents, by the Rev.
Herman Hooker.--_Philadelphian._

       *       *       *       *       *

GOODE’S BETTER COVENANT.--This volume is made up of Lectures
by the Rev. Francis Goode, a clergyman of the Church of England, on
portions of the 8th chapter of St. Paul’s Epistle to the Hebrews, and
portions of his Epistle to the Philippians. Mr. Goode is understood
to be one of the brightest spiritual lights of the mother Church. The
introduction by Mr. Hooker, contains a letter of Bishop M’Ilvaine, in
which he expresses great satisfaction in view of the republication of
the work in this country, and classes the author with the Bickersteths,
Noels, Melvilles and Wilsons of the Church of England. We have not had
opportunity to read the book in course, but have formed a high estimate
of its intellectual and evangelical excellence from the parts which
have fallen under our notice.--_Christian Witness._

       *       *       *       *       *

The author of this work is a clergyman of the Church of England. This
book is replete with practical thought and instruction on some of
the most important doctrines of Christianity. It is a work which it
gives us a pleasure to recommend to readers in every church, and of
every class. We have copied an extract from it on the first page of
this paper, under the head of “Views of Doctrine.”--_So. Religious
Telegraph, June 10, 1836._

       *       *       *       *       *

We have read this book with great pleasure. The author, a clergyman of
the Church of England, appears to have learned from the Bible the same
great truths of Christianity which strongly mark the writings of John
Calvin, Leighton and Owen. Bishop M’Ilvaine says, “I am truly rejoiced,
that the theological literature of this country is to be enriched
with the addition of so excellent a work.”--Sold at the Bookstores of
Messrs. Yale & Wyatt.--_So. Religious Telegraph._

       *       *       *       *       *

LIBRARY OF CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE.--This will undoubtedly prove
to be a most valuable series of books. The editor is, at once, a man of
genius, taste and erudition, and we are quite sure that no work will
bear his name as editor, which is not possessed of sterling merit. Two
volumes of this series have already appeared: the first, _M’Laurin’s
Essays_, we noticed some time since as a volume rich in profound and
valuable thought; the second, “_Goode’s Better Covenant_,” is now
before us. The writer is a living divine of the Church of England, but
the book has nothing in it of a sectarian character. Bishop M’Ilvaine
(in a letter to the Editor) says, “As a book of practical piety, I
know of no book of the present age more valuable.” This certainly is
high praise and comes from a high source: if we do not esteem the
work quite as highly as the Bishop, (perhaps because we have not
studied it as carefully,) we are fully prepared to pronounce it a most
excellent book. We understand that another volume is nearly ready for
publication, which is to be followed by an original work on Infidelity
from the pen of the accomplished editor.--_Boston Traveller._

       *       *       *       *       *

This volume cannot be read by the pious without sensible profit. It
breathes the very spirit of ardent piety, and directs continually to
CHRIST, as the only source of strength and growth in grace.
The kind of faith here inculcated, is not a cold rational assent to
general propositions, but a cordial, living principle of action, the
exercise of which is commonly accompanied with a sweet persuasion of
pardon and acceptance. Nothing animates and encourages the pious soul
in its spiritual pilgrimage so much, as the smiles of the great Captain
of Salvation.--_Biblical Repertory, Princeton._

       *       *       *       *       *

   LETTERS PRACTICAL AND CONSOLATORY, DESIGNED TO ILLUSTRATE THE
   NATURE AND TENDENCY OF THE GOSPEL. By the Rev. David Russell, D.
   D. with an Introductory Essay, by the Rev. Henry A. Boardman.
   Vol. 3 and 4, Library of Christian Knowledge.

We are much gratified that the theological writings of the Rev. Doctor
Russell of Dundee, begin to attract the attention of American readers.
The editor could not easily have hit upon a work better adapted to
instruct and comfort the pious reader, than these small volumes of
letters. They are, we think, the best productions of the gifted
author’s pen. They appear to have been written in the course of a
real correspondence, which gives them a greater freedom of style than
could easily be attained in letters originally intended for the press.
Though the letters are practical, and particularly suited to afford
rich consolation to the children of sorrow, they are nevertheless
eminently instructive. There are few books from which a clearer idea
can be obtained of the doctrines of the Christian system than from
these Letters. They contain, as do his other writings, the pure Gospel
of Jesus Christ. The peculiar excellency of these volumes is, that you
have the truth exhibited, not in a controversial or even a systematic
form, but in its practical bearings, as a guide both to faith and
practice. The style is clear, concise, and easy; and possesses a
vivacity which keeps up the interest of the reader.--_Biblical
Repertory and Theological Review._

       *       *       *       *       *

RUSSELL’S LETTERS, _Practical and Consolatory_, designed to illustrate
the nature and tendency of the Gospel, with an introductory Essay by
the Rev. H. A. Boardman; forming volumes 3d and 4th of the Library of
Christian Knowledge; edited by Rev. Herman Hooker. This work has just
been issued by the enterprising publishers, Wm. Marshall & Co. The
Introductory Essay is a well written exposition of the characteristics
of the work, abounding with specimens of the happy style and temper of
the author. He expresses the opinion that no work of recent origin is
so worthy to be read and admired by all classes of Christians as these
letters of Dr. Russell. The examination which we have given them leaves
us with the opinion that this is a just estimate of their value. The
Letters are written in a natural, intelligible, and appropriate style.
A spirit of ardent, simple, and affectionate piety runs through them,
which must win the confidence and awaken the interest of the reader.
The author has published several other works, all of which are in high
repute; but his Letters have, perhaps, been more popular, and more
extensively circulated than any other of his productions.--_Commercial
Herald._

       *       *       *       *       *

RUSSELL’S LETTERS, in two volumes, exhibit, in a chaste and
intelligible style, the most important features in the plan of
redemption and of Christian duty. The letters were actually addressed
to an individual, previous to publication, for this purpose; a
circumstance which has been justly thought calculated to ensure for
them a peculiarly _practical_ character. Those who desire clear and
profitable instruction upon the subject of religion, from an original,
but judicious, well balanced and pious mind, will not be disappointed
in perusing Russell’s Letters.--_Episcopal Recorder._

       *       *       *       *       *

The Rev. Mr. Boardman thus speaks, in his Introductory Essay, of the
author and his works:--“The name of Dr. Russell is familiar to the
friends of Christ throughout the united kingdom--and his eminent piety,
talents, and usefulness have placed him in the front rank of those
celebrated divines, who are justly regarded as an ornament of his
country, and an invaluable blessing to the age. His various writings
are held in high estimation on the other side of the Atlantic, and it
is not a little surprising that the extensive circulation which they
have had there, has not led to an earlier republication of them in the
United States. This series of Letters is perhaps the most interesting
of all his works. Those who may peruse it, will not deem the opinion an
extravagant one, that it will hereafter rank with the standard volumes
on practical religion, which find a place in every Christian Library.”

       *       *       *       *       *

   POPULAR INFIDELITY. By the Rev. Herman Hooker, M. A. Vol. 5,
   Library of Christian Knowledge.

When, in our first volume, we took notice of the Rev. Mr. Hooker’s
“Portion of the Soul,” we expressed the hope, that, from the golden
vein thus opened, we should have other and richer specimens--and we
ventured to predict, that, the more it should be worked, the finer
would be the ingot. We are proud to record our predictions. In the
present volume our most golden dreams are more than realized. It is a
book of an age; and we will say of a better age--“specimen melioris
ævi.” It shall be taken down, in the dark, from the same shelf on which
the writings of South, Taylor, Barrow, Boyle, Bates, and How, repose in
glory unsurpassed of earth; and shall be replaced again, when read, by
the most ardent lover of them all, as worthy of the high companionship.
We know what we have said, and we challenge doubters to the proof.

It is the object of the author to unmask that secret _infidelity of
the heart_, of which St. Paul gives admonition, in his epistle to
the Hebrews--“Take heed, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil
heart of unbelief, in departing from the living God”--and he has well
accomplished it. His pen seems an Ithuriel’s spear, to strip the subtle
fraud, which he pursues with singular skill, of all its multiplied
disguises. His page teems with illustrations, the rarest, the aptest,
and the most beautiful, of his important theme. It is impossible,
plain as the truths are which he speaks, to be offended with him, from
the pure benevolence which is felt to be his prompter; and, such the
vein of keen, but half repressed and silent, humour which pervades the
book, that, once taken up, it is impossible to lay it down till it is
finished. We began to mark the passages which, for the thought or the
expression, struck us, as we read, by turning down the leaf; and the
volume lies before us, increased by half its thickness. To review it,
as it deserves, is not within the compass of our craft. Not to commend
it to universal notice, would be to do our readers an unpardonable
injustice. There was great want of such a book, which, by its engaging
character, should tempt men to become acquainted with themselves--which
should expose the vanity and recklessness with which many, “who profess
and call themselves Christians,” are running the giddy round of
self-delusion and self-dependence--which should bring home the thoughts
of men to God and their own hearts; and induce them, in the noise and
bustle of this restless age, to commune with themselves, in their own
chamber, and be still. Such a book is here furnished--unpretending
and artless, yet sagacious, powerful and persuasive--as fearless as
the Baptist, yet with the Evangelist’s gentleness and meekness--deep,
searching and thorough, yet clear and intelligible to the simplest
reader--wearying none with its minuteness or prolixity, offending none
with its abruptness or severity, delightful to all for its ease, its
perspicuity and its amenity.--_Missionary._

       *       *       *       *       *

It would be far exceeding our limits to expatiate on the character of
the age, or to show by an analysis of Mr. Hooker’s work, how skilfully
and eloquently he has aimed to arrest its pernicious tendencies. The
“Popular Infidelity” as well as the “Portion of the Soul,” is a work
eminently adapted to the age; and if we have any fault to find with the
author, it is that he does not himself view it in that light; that he
writes professedly _for a class_, instead of challenging attention
to the work which he is really accomplishing, of writing for his age,
and thus speaking in that loftier tone which the reformer is authorised
to assume. Infidelity in its more subtle forms, and such as Mr. Hooker
has described, _is_, we fear, a characteristic of the age: few
pens have revealed more clearly than his its philosophy and impiety,
and our only regret is, that he has not brought the actors and the
actions of the Christian world side by side with the original which
he so vividly conceives, and thus given a popular estimate of their
deformity.

Again, reminding the reader, that the infidelity of which Mr. Hooker
treats is to be found not in the outward ranks of avowed unbelievers,
but in the inmost recesses of the hearts of professed Christians, we
beg leave earnestly to recommend the work to general perusal. It is
written in a pure strain of Christian philosophy, and should find its
way to the closets and affections of all those “who profess and call
themselves Christians.”--_New York Churchman._

       *       *       *       *       *

In the very first chapter of this work, one finds himself introduced
into a new and delightful field. To most readers new emotions and
unaccustomed trains of thought spring up in the mind, awakening and
enkindling the desire for deeper and fuller insight into the great
truths there brought to view; and as one proceeds ideas continually
cluster around the mind with all the interest and freshness which
novelty and a deep insight into our nature can give them. But here
let it not be forgotten, that an imperious call is made upon our own
undivided attention. If we expect to enter into the spirit of the
book, and fully to grasp the author’s argument in all its relations
and bearings, we must make up our minds to more of an intellectual
effort than is required in the perusal of most books which issue from
the press. There is an originality in the conception of “Popular
Infidelity,” an intellectual superiority in the execution to which few
books of the present day can lay claim.

On the whole we think the treatise on Popular Infidelity one of the
best practical works that has appeared for some time; and we would
confidently recommend it to the attention of all who wish to become
intimately acquainted with their own character. It is eminently
calculated to promote the cause of deep, genuine, and enlightened
piety, and will suffer nothing, to say the very least, in a comparison
with the popular and useful works of Phillip. We have seldom seen a
work which so accurately analyses the feelings and principles of the
human heart, lays bare the secret springs of human action, and presents
to view one’s _real self_.--_Episcopal Recorder._

       *       *       *       *       *

POPULAR INFIDELITY.--This is the fifth volume of the Library
of Christian Knowledge, and a volume on a subject which claims all
the attention the author has given to it. It is a prominent part of
the merit of his work that he gives a clear _diagnosis_, an
intelligible description of the disease for which religion is a cure.
The disease is self-deception in various forms and of various types.

Some of the author’s phraseology relating to doctrines seems to imply
belief in certain points concerning which we should differ from him.
But his views of human ability, of the use of reason in relation to
religion and of spiritual influences, appear to us to be sound and
scriptural. Without being able to go into a particular description of
the work, we judge from what examination we have made, that it may
be safely read, in general for doctrine, and every where for reproof
and correction, by Christians of all sects.--_Boston Christian
Register._

       *       *       *       *       *

POPULAR INFIDELITY. By the Rev. HERMAN HOOKER, M. A.--This work
supplies a desideratum. _Popular Infidelity_, of which it treats,
has been too long permitted to extend its influence, without any
direct opposition from the religious press. Those who could, have
refrained from defending “the faith once delivered to the Saints;”
and Heresy has been permitted to stalk abroad triumphantly, where
the principles and doctrines of the Scriptures should have taken
precedence. Every Christian--every clergyman at least, who would defend
his belief--should fortify himself with this unanswerable volume.
--_Philadelphia Gazette, Aug. 8, 1836._

       *       *       *       *       *

POPULAR INFIDELITY. By the Rev. Herman Hooker, M. A.--This is the
fifth volume of the Library of Christian Knowledge, and is an original
work of the accomplished editor of that valuable series. All classes
of Christians may find food for reflection in the very important
considerations suggested by the author. The work is not, as might
be supposed, a defence of the outworks of Christianity against the
scepticism of the professed Infidel. But it is a most able and eloquent
attack upon the practical infidelity of professed believers. Every kind
and degree of unbelief are powerfully assailed. The secret enemies
of faith are dragged from their lurking places, stripped of their
disguise, and held up to the light in their naked deformities. The
extensive reading of this work cannot but promote the cause of religion
in the community.--_National Gazette, Aug. 6, 1836._

       *       *       *       *       *

POPULAR INFIDELITY. By the Rev. Herman Hooker, belongs to a class
of works which are seldom read as extensively as they deserve. Its
purpose is to show to what extent a practical disbelief in Christianity
exists even among those, who living in a Christian community, and
committing no violation of its external ordinances, believe and call
themselves Christians. That this adherence to the form, without
retaining the substance, is too common among all classes, is a truth
which even superficial observation will render manifest, but which
Mr. H. illustrates by many well chosen examples. We wish his essay a
circulation corresponding to its merits.--_Commercial Herald, Aug. 9,
1836._

       *       *       *       *       *

POPULAR INFIDELITY. By the Rev. HERMAN HOOKER, M. A.--We have read this
book with no ordinary interest. The subject on which it treats is of
vital importance to every class of readers. We have several valuable
works upon this subject, but none, that we know of, which occupies the
ground taken by our author.

He has descended into the dark arcana of the human soul, and following
the intricate winding of the unbelief through all its hidden and unseen
influences, has exposed the fallacy of that popular sentimentalism
which often passes for religion, and shown the contrariety which exists
between the professed opinions and conduct of men, to be owing to the
latent infidelity of the heart.

It will be difficult to find a book, that so drives us into the
contemplation of ourselves; that so accurately analyzes the thoughts
and feelings of men, and so vividly exhibits the self-flattery, by
which we cheat ourselves into the belief, that we reverence and admire
the character of God, when all we admire and reverence, is but the
image of ourselves, which we have contrived to ascribe to him.

In a word, it is rich in the most difficult of all knowledge, the
knowledge of ourselves. It is full of thought; thought that often
surprises, not only by originality of conception, but by the striking
and beautiful contrast in which it is presented.

Few persons, we imagine, can read any one chapter of this book, and not
wish to read the whole. The style is colloquial, nervous, and animated;
the language, in a high degree, Saxon.

The author is peculiarly happy in his citations from the Scriptures.
The passages cited, not only illustrate and enforce the sentiments he
advances, but the manner of their introduction illustrates and enforces
them; so that they are seen to possess a charm, and an extension of
application, which the reader had before failed to observe.

We have seldom read a book in which so little could be anticipated. As
the reader turns from page to page, he finds his curiosity continually
excited by new and unexpected thoughts, presented under a rich variety
of beautiful and striking illustration. When he supposes himself at
the end of the subject, it comes up in a new light, and new fields of
contemplation open before him.--_N. Y. Evangelist._




                                  THE

                                LIBRARY

                                  OF

                         Christian Knowledge.

                               EDITED BY

                    THE REV. HERMAN HOOKER, M. A.,

               AUTHOR OF THE “PORTION OF THE SOUL,” &C.


                               VOL. VI.

  [Illustration: LABORE RELUCENS.]

                             PHILADELPHIA:

                     WILLIAM MARSHALL AND COMPANY;

                             MDCCCXXXVII.




                                SKETCH

                                OF THE

                        REFORMATION IN ENGLAND.


                       BY THE REV. J. J. BLUNT,

               FELLOW OF ST. JOHN’S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

                     With an Introductory Letter,

                            TO THE EDITOR,

                  BY GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE, D. D.,

                         BISHOP OF NEW JERSEY.

  [Illustration: PAUL’S CROSS.]

                             PHILADELPHIA:
                        WILLIAM MARSHALL & CO.
                                 1837.

“They that goe downe to the sea in ships, and occupie by the great
waters, they see the workes of the Lord, and his wonders in the deepe.
For God is marvellous in the surges and tempests of the sea: he is
marvellous in the firmament of heaven: but much more marvellous is
he in the surges and stormy tempests of his church. Heere may we
behold the worke of his hands. This is the shop of his power, of his
wisedome, of his light, and truth, and righteousnesse, and patience,
and mercy. Heere may we see the children of light, and the children of
darknesse: the vessels of honor, and the vessels of shame: the assaults
of falshood, and the glorie and victorie of truth. Heere shall we see
how God leadeth even into hell, and yet bringeth safely backe: how he
killeth, and yet reviveth: how he refuseth the full, and feedeth the
hungrie: how he is the ruine of many, and the resurrection of many.
Heere may we see the wonderfull waies, and the unsearcheable judgements
of God.”

                              BISHOP JEWEL, _Sermon on Josh._ vi. 1.

                             Philadelphia:
                   T. K. & P. G. Collins, Printers,
                          No. 1 Lodge Alley.




                               PREFACE.


The Reformation is one of the most remarkable events in our history,
whether considered in relation to politics or religion; for its
influence was most powerful upon both. My own reading, profession,
and taste have led me to regard it in the latter rather than in the
former light; and therefore, brief as the following sketch is, it will
not be found of the nature of an abridgment of larger histories of
the Reformation which have contemplated it in all its many bearings,
but a continuous, though succinct account, of its rise, progress, and
consummation, chiefly considered as a great Revolution of the Church.
I have avoided, as far as I could, taking my materials at second hand.
I have been governed in my choice of them by a desire to seize upon
such as, being characteristic in kind, might not be oppressive in
number; and I have worked them up into a whole, with less regard to the
line and rule by which others may have wrought already, than to the
positions into which they seemed of themselves to fall most naturally.
If in my treatment of the many delicate and difficult questions which
such a subject stirs, I have former writers with me, it is well. I have
not, however, constrained myself to seek out their path and pursue it,
though I am too conscious of my own deficiencies, and of the extreme
uncertainty of history, to be otherwise than pleased, if I happen to
strike into it unawares. If on the same occasions, I have the good
fortune to agree with the voice of my own times, it is well too: it
is folly to be singular, except for the purpose of being right; but
still I have not hearkened out for that voice, and studiously walked by
it. I have gone as my facts directed me, taking them as I found them,
unpacked. For those facts I have generally given my authorities, that
my readers may judge for themselves of the credit due to them; and for
the speculations which accompany them, whether doctrinal or practical,
I may say that they are meant to serve the cause of truth and equity,
not of party; it is for others to say whether they are reasonable, and
to let them prevail only so far as they prove so--_valeant quantum
valent_.




                         INTRODUCTORY LETTER.


                    _St. Mary’s Parsonage,_

                                     _Conversion of St. Paul, 1837._

    My Dear Brother:

When you proposed to me that I should write an Introduction to
Mr. Blunt’s “Sketch of the Reformation in England,” included, at
my suggestion, in your “Library of Christian Knowledge,” I saw an
admirable opportunity to invite attention to that great crisis of
the Christian world; and I consented. As I meditated on the subject,
it deepened in interest, and rose in elevation, and increased in
magnitude, till it became absorbing and overwhelming. I felt that
_an Essay on the English Reformation_, that should trace it from
its true beginnings, contemplate all its bearings, and carry out its
just conclusions, was a work to fill a volume, and to take up years.
Is not the “Sketch” itself--I was thus brought to think--which Mr.
Blunt has drawn, the very thing best suited to the present purpose?
In its design, a bird’s-eye view of that illustrious passage in the
history of man; in its execution, rapid, vigorous, picturesque; the
manliest conceptions in the raciest words; so intensely interesting
that he who takes it up will never lay it down unread, nor read it
without the strongest impulse to read more--surely, this is the very
result to which I proposed to address myself; and to attract attention
to the study of the English Reformation, and to make men in love with
its ennobling themes, and to imbue their minds with its instructive
lessons, and to possess their hearts with its inspiring influences, and
to inflame them with its martyr spirit, the book itself shall be its
own best introduction.

Were I to designate, dear Hooker, the branch of study which has fallen
into the most unreasonable neglect, and which yet would overpay, with
most abundant, and with richest fruits, the utmost cost of prosecution,
it should be without a doubt, the study of _Church History_.
“It is not St. Augustine’s nor St. Ambrose’s works,” Lord Bacon well
remarks,[1] “that will make so wise a divine”--he might as well have
said, _so wise a man_--“as ecclesiastical history, thoroughly
read and observed.” “There is, in good truth,”--we justify, while we
illustrate, the words of the great Philosopher, by the language of one
who is himself their living illustration, the present Principal of
King’s College, London,[2] “there is, in good truth, no way so certain
to lead us to truth, no way so certain to lead us to _fixed, calm,
and Christian views in divinity_ as the study of it, _by the
way of history_. If we take up a ‘system of divinity,’ whether in
the shape of a body of Articles, or a regular treatise, comprising a
discussion of all the great points of the Christian covenant, useful
and necessary as such things are, each in its own way, yet it cannot be
but that they present all these great points to us in a controversial
view and with a controversial air. This surely cannot be desirable.
Our concern with the great doctrines of the Gospel covenant is to
govern our hearts, lives, thoughts and words by them, to bring the
whole man into subjection to those awful truths which God himself
revealed to us in order to teach us how we are to live here, and how
to live with him hereafter.” Now it is precisely these “fixed, calm,
and Christian views in divinity” which, in this age, and especially
in this country, are most wanted--which are sought for in vain in the
din of religious controversy and the stir of religious excitement--and
for the want of which, to the joy of the infidel, and to the shame and
grief of the meek searcher after truth, who would walk humbly with his
God, Christianity, at times, appears almost unchristianised. And the
inquiries which would lead men to them--which securing to us, upon
the certain warrant of “Holy Scripture and ancient authors,” a sound
rule of faith, should establish for us a sober standard of feeling
in matters of practical religion, and as it were, domesticate among
us that serene and dovelike Christianity, which the sweetest spirit
of our age[3] illustrates well, when he speaks of the “_soothing
tendency_” of the Prayer-book--am I not right when I say, that, as
Christians, not only, but as patriots and philosophers, there are no
investigations more worthy of us--and do I greatly err in the belief,
that already, among the thoughtful and the good, there is a preparation
to receive them favourably, and to bestow on those who lead the way
that best reward and most distinguished honour, their confidence and
acquiescence?

Chiefly, however, to two portions of the ever-flowing stream of history
would I, if the permission were but given me, direct the public
mind--the history of _the Church in the first ages_, and the
history of _the English Reformation_. THE CHURCH OF THE FIRST
AGES were God’s “eye witnesses and ministers of the word.” It is a
maxim of the courts, “_expositio contemporanea est fortissima_.”
The first reception is the best. As we owe the integrity of the text to
them, so are we their debtors for the certainty of the interpretation.
“The contradiction of tongues,” saith Lord Bacon,[4] “doth every where
meet us, out of the tabernacle of God; therefore, whithersoever thou
shalt turn thyself, thou shalt find no end of controversies except
thou withdraw thyself into that tabernacle.” “The fathers of the
Church,” says Townsend,[5] “are unanimous on all those points which
peculiarly characterise true Christianity. They assert the divinity,
the incarnation, and the atonement of Christ; and thus bear their
decisive testimony against the modern reasoners on these points. They
are unanimous in asserting that the primitive Churches were governed
by an order of men, who possessed authority over others who had been
set apart for preaching and administering the Sacraments: and certain
privileges and powers were committed to that higher order which were
withheld from the second and third. The reception of the canon of
Scripture, the proofs of its authenticity and genuineness, rest upon
the authority of the fathers; and there are customs of universal
observance, which are not in express terms commanded in Scripture, and
which rest upon the same foundation. We are justified, therefore, on
these and on many other accounts, in maintaining the utmost veneration
for their unanimous authority, which has never in any one instance
clashed with Scripture, which will preserve in its purity every Church
which is directed by them, and check or extinguish every innovation
which encourages error in doctrine, or licentiousness in discipline.”
“He that hath willingly subscribed to the word of God,” says Bishop
Hall,[6] attested in the everlasting Scriptures; to all the primitive
creeds; to the four general councils; to the common judgment of the
fathers, for six hundred years after Christ, (_which we, of our
reformation, religiously profess to do_;) this man may possibly
err in trifles, but he cannot be an heretic.” This is the doctrine of
common sense not less than of the Church. It was the departure from
it which constituted the necessity of the English Reformation. It is
the departure from it which constitutes the danger of our day. It is
in the return to it, in standing in the ways, and asking for “the old
paths,” that our safety and our hope are to be found. It is a blessed
omen for our times, that, through the zealous devotion of Pusey and
Keble and Newman, the ancient documents will soon be brought, in their
translations of the Fathers, within the common reach.

Of kindred interest, and of scarcely inferior importance, is the study
of THE ENGLISH REFORMATION. For a time, the Church, drunk with
too much prosperity, had wandered and grown wanton. For a time, God
left her to eat of the fruit of her own ways, and be filled with her
own devices. But,

    “His own possession and his lot
    He will not quite forsake.”

The wrath of man he makes to praise him. The remainder of it he
restrains. When the time came that he would have mercy upon Sion, men
were not wanting to the work, with holy hearts, and giant hands, and
tongues of fire. They took their stand upon the pure word of God. They
appealed to the consenting voice of all Christian antiquity. They
toiled. They prayed. They bled. They burned. They persevered. They
triumphed. The Church, deformed before, was now reformed. She returned
to her old principles, and to her “first love.” “We look,” says Joseph
Mede,[7] “after the form, rites, and discipline of antiquity; and
endeavour to bring our own as near as we can to that pattern.” “If I
mistake not greatly,” says Casaubon, writing to Salmasius,[8] “the
soundest part of all the reformation is in England; for there, with
the study of the scripture, there is the most regard to the study of
antiquity.”

But I must check myself. I may not enter now upon this rich and
tempting field. The time would fail me to tell of Wickliff, and
Cranmer, and Ridley, and Latimer, and Taylor, and Rogers, and the
glorious host of witnesses for God, that “loved not their life unto the
death.”

    “Methinks that I could trip o’er heaviest soil
    Light as a buoyant bark from wave to wave,
    Were mine the trusty staff that JEWEL gave
    To youthful HOOKER in familiar style
    The gift exalting, and with playful smile.[9]
    For thus equipped, and bearing on his head
    The donor’s farewell blessing, can he dread
    Tempest, or length of way, or weight of toil?
    More sweet than odours caught by him who sails
    Near spicy shores of Araby the blest;
    A thousand times more exquisitely sweet
    The freight of holy feeling which we meet
    In thoughtful moments, wafted by the gales
    From fields where good men walk, or bowers wherein they rest.

    Holy and heavenly spirits as they are
    Spotless in life, and eloquent as wise,
    With what entire affection do they prize
    Their new-born[10] Church! Labouring with earnest care
    To baffle all that may her strength impair;
    That Church--the unperverted Gospel’s seat;
    In their afflictions a divine retreat;
    Source of their liveliest hope, and tenderest prayer!
    The truth exploring with an equal mind,
    In doctrine and communion they have sought
    Firmly between the two extremes to steer;
    But theirs the wise man’s ordinary lot,
    To trace right courses for the stubborn blind,
    And prophesy to ears that will not hear.--

                              WORDSWORTH, _Ecclesiastical Sketches_.

Let us hope that to this most fruitful field of truth, and purity and
piety, and charity, Mr. Blunt’s delightful “Sketch” may turn many an
eager eye and many a vigorous foot. And for ourselves, dear brother,
when the cares and disappointments and disquietudes of life disturb or
weary us, and we are tempted to fall back, or turn aside, or falter,
on the high, “right onward” course of duty, next to the Author of our
faith, and the bright cloud of prophets and apostles who stand nearest
to his throne, let us direct our eyes to the illustrious fathers of the
English Reformation. “We shall find there,” I cite again the eloquent
and admirable Rose,[11] “bright examples of saints and martyrs--of men
of whom the world was not worthy--who have done all and suffered all,
that men could do and could suffer, for that one blessed cause, and
in so doing and so suffering have found an elevation, a peace and a
joy which nothing could give but the sense of God’s presence, and the
influence of God’s Spirit, blessing his own servants in doing his own
work. So warned, and so cheered, by the voice of Scripture and the
comment of history, we shall betake us each to our humble path with
a clearer conviction of duty, a stronger sense of the danger and the
guilt of neglecting it, a firmer hope of a blessing, a more cheerful
and animating view of the prospect before us.”

And now, dear brother,--who rejoicest in a name, than which the earth
has never known a nobler, the name of “the judicious Hooker,”--in the
hope that, for the love you bear me, you will pardon this strange
rambling, and with the prayer, that God may bless you many years with
health and strength, to serve his glorious Church, with the rich gifts
which he has given you--or, failing these, may comfort and sustain your
heart with Milton’s noble sentiment,

    “They also serve who only stand and wait,”--

believe me, with sincere affection, your faithful friend and brother in
the Church and Gospel of our common Lord.

                                                        G. W. DOANE.

    _The Rev._ HERMAN HOOKER,
        _Editor of the Library of Christian Knowledge_.




                               CONTENTS.


                              CHAPTER I.

    British and Anglo-Saxon Churches.--Intercourse with
      Rome.--Early Corruptions                                Page 1


                              CHAPTER II.

    Divisions amongst Ecclesiastics.--The regular and secular
      Clergy.--The Pope favours the former.--Exemptions from
      Episcopal Jurisdiction.--Habits of the Friars               43


                             CHAPTER III.

    Progress of Grievances under the Norman Princes.--Papal
      Interference.--Legates.--Collision of Roman and English
      Forms of Law--Inconveniences attending it                   47


                              CHAPTER IV.

    Monasteries.--Their Usurpation of the Rights of the
      Clergy.--Impropriations.--Evils of the System               60


                              CHAPTER V.

    Early Reformers.--Waldenses.--Wickliffe.--Lollards            75


                              CHAPTER VI.

    Luther.--Erasmus.--Sir T. More.--New Translation of the
      Bible.--Demand for it                                       96


                             CHAPTER VII.

    Cranmer.--The Divorce.--The Supremacy                        111


                             CHAPTER VIII.

    Dissolution of the Abbeys.--Church Property.--Immediate
      Consequences of the Dissolution                            135


                              CHAPTER IX.

    Cromwell.--Gardiner.--Bonner.--The Act of the Six
      Articles.--Sermons of those Days.--Proposed Disposal
      of Ecclesiastical Property.--Articles of 1536.--The
      Bible in Churches.--Bishops’ Book,--King’s Book            165


                              CHAPTER X.

    Edward VI.--Advance of the Reformation.--Erasmus’s
      Paraphrase.--Homilies.--Cranmer’s Catechism.--Office
      of Communion.--Book of Common-Prayer.--Time of Service,
      and Length.--Primer.--Articles of 1553.--Moderation of
      the English Reformers                                      196


                              CHAPTER XI.

    Hooper.--Puritans.--Expectations of the Roman
      Catholic.--Edward’s Death.--Lady Jane Grey                 235


                             CHAPTER XII.

    Mary.--Suppression of the Reformation.--Persecution of
      the Reformers.--Fox’s Acts and Monuments                   252


                             CHAPTER XIII.

    Elizabeth.--Her Accession.--Her Caution.--Reformation
      again triumphant.--Return of the
      Exiles.--Jewel.--Injunctions of Elizabeth compared
      with those of Edward.--Progress of the Puritans.--The
    Reformation not completed.--Conclusion                       276




                               A SKETCH

                                OF THE

                        REFORMATION IN ENGLAND.




                              CHAPTER I.

            BRITISH AND ANGLO-SAXON CHURCHES.--INTERCOURSE
                    WITH ROME.--EARLY CORRUPTIONS.


The Reformation is not to be regarded as a great and sudden event which
took the nation by surprise. It was merely the crisis to which things
had been tending for some centuries; and if the fire did at last run
over the country with wonderful rapidity, it was because the trees were
all dry. It is a mistake to suppose that whilst the Roman catholic
religion prevailed all was unity. True it is, that the elements of
discontent were as yet working for the most part under ground, but they
were not on that account the less likely to make themselves eventually
felt. The strong man armed was keeping the house, and therefore his
goods were at peace; but he was in jeopardy long before he was spoiled.
Luther was the match that produced the explosion, but the train had
been laid by the events of generations before him.

It may not then be the least useful, nor, perhaps, the least
interesting portion of a History of the Reformation in England, to
trace some of the causes that led to it; some of the incidents that
made it practicable, and some of the abuses that rendered it necessary.
And here there is no need to conceal the obligations we were under in
the first instance to the church of Rome. Neither Gregory himself, nor
Augustin his messenger, appears to have been influenced by any other
than a truly Christian spirit in seeking the conversion of England,
then no very tempting prize; and though there can be no doubt that
Christianity had been introduced into this island much earlier, whether
by any of the apostles themselves; whether after the persecution on
the death of Stephen, by some of the Syrian Christians, “who were
scattered abroad, and went every where preaching the word;”[12] or
whether by devout soldiers of the same nation, whom the famine foretold
by Agabus might have driven into the armies of Claudius, and who might
have come with him into Britain;[13] or whether by some of the Jewish
converts dispersed over the world, when that same emperor “commanded
all Jews to depart from Rome;”[14]--whether from these or from other
sources unknown to us, England was in some degree Christianised,
the existence of a British church before the arrival of Augustin in
the year 597 is a fact clearly established. Its independent origin
is sufficiently attested by the subjects of controversy between the
Anglo-Roman and British Christians; the time of Easter, in which the
Britons followed, as they said, St. John and the eastern Christians,
a point of heterodoxy, it may be observed, in which the Irish also
concurred,[15] who in some other respects accorded with the British
church, building their places of worship, for instance, with wood,
and thatching them with reeds;[16] the tonsure, whether it should be
that of Peter or Paul, or none whatever;[17] the rite of Baptism,
with regard to which, however, the nature of the difference between
the churches does not appear, though a difference there was,[18] and
the same may be said of the celibacy of the clergy. The Britons had
churches of their own; built after a fashion of their own; their own
saints; their own hierarchy,--the British bishops attending a council
as such; and holding no intercourse with the Angles even in Bede’s
time, but looking on them as Samaritans.[19] Moreover, the jealousy
with which the Welsh long afterwards regarded all ecclesiastical
interference on the part of England, their resolute assertion of their
right to a metropolitan of their own at St. Davids, and their actual
exercise of that right till the time of Henry I, argues the same
difference in the rock from which the English and British churches were
originally hewn.[20] Let, however, tribute be paid to whom tribute is
due: Augustin was the founder of the English church as distinguished
from the British, for the Britons made a conscience of leaving the
Pagan invaders to die in their ignorance and their sins: and it is
probable that both in doctrine and discipline the religion of this
country owed to the great Apostle of England (as he has been called)
its revival, extension, and permanent establishment. But Gregory was no
pope in the more modern sense of the word; it was his desire that the
church of Rome should be followed by the church of England when there
was reason for it, not otherwise; he would have some errors reproved;
some he would have tolerated; some he would not have seen, that all
might be done away; ecclesiastical property he would have recovered
where it had been plundered; but that more should be exacted than had
been taken away, or that a merchandise should be made of the loss,
that was to be far from the church.[21] No wonder that the Gospel,
mixed though it certainly was even then with some alloy, should have
made its way in England, recommended by a spirit like this, and that
kings should have been found its nursing fathers;[22] accordingly they
erected crosses; built and endowed churches and monasteries, and the
fierce superstitions of the Saxons made way for the religion of Jesus.
But the mystery of iniquity had begun to work even in Bede’s time.[23]
His portrait of Aidanus or Madoc, a missionary from Ikolmkill to the
Angles near a century before, is clearly meant to contrast with the
ecclesiastics of his own day. He might have been the prototype of
Chaucer’s “poore parson of a towne.” He was chaste; he lived as he
taught others to live; he travelled through the villages teaching the
word, not on horseback, but on foot. Those whom he met, if believers,
he confirmed in the faith; if unbelievers, he initiated in it; unlike
the idlers of these times (says Bede), all who were in his company,
whether priests or people, were busied in reading the Scriptures, or
learning the Psalms by rote. There was a stirring amongst the dry bones
through his exertions; the people flocked to hear the word of God;
churches were built in many places, and monasteries were enriched by
the bounty of the king. Such is the picture drawn by Bede, coloured
perhaps somewhat too highly; for it seems unlikely that such effects,
to their full extent, should have been produced by a teacher who
spoke the language of his hearers but imperfectly, and had occasional
need of an interpreter.[24] Much, however, might have been done, in a
popular cause, even in spite of such an obstacle. Giraldus tells us
that when he preached the crusades to the Welshmen at Haverford West,
he could gain 200 recruits at a sermon in French or Latin, of which
the people did not understand one word, though they knew and approved
its object.[25] Still in a sketch which Bede gives us of the state of
a convent (consisting as was not uncommon both of monks and nuns), at
a period not much later than Madoc, there is a sad falling off. The
case is indeed spoken of as a flagrant one, and the facts are to be
gathered out of a fabulous story of a warning sent by an angel to a
monk of that house; signifying that a judgment was coming upon it;
for that of its inmates none (save one only) were occupied with the
good of their souls; all were asleep, or only awake to sin, both men
and women; the cells intended for study and prayer had been converted
into chambers of revelry and excess; the virgins who had dedicated
themselves to God, having no respect unto their vows, employed all
their leisure hours in adorning their persons, as though they were
brides, or wished to be.[26] Indeed, on one occasion about the same
time, when a panic prevailed through the country by reason of the
plague, it was actually attempted in one quarter of the island where
Christianity had been received, to repair the temples and restore
idolatry.[27] Whatever, therefore, the wheat might be that had been
sown by Augustin and his companions, the tares, it seems, were growing
about it apace, and were ready to choke it. The truth, however, appears
to be, that as yet there was no well-organised church in England. There
was wanted a system in matters ecclesiastical, what was done was done
chiefly by good and zealous individuals. Rome might have supplied the
defect; but the relation in which England stood to Rome is not easily
determined from the history of Bede; it was probably ill defined,
fluctuating, and uncertain, depending in a great measure upon the
accident of the day. Pope Gregory is indeed represented as speaking
with some authority in the answers which he returns to Augustin, who
consults him on the regulations of the infant church;--he may furnish
him with sacred vessels, ornaments, robes, relics, books, and give him
power to consecrate Bishops in Britain, and directions for using it.
Reference may be made to the pope from time to time, in any crisis of
difficulty, or doubt, or hardship; wholesome decrees with regard to
the method of filling up the sees in case of death may be received
from him; his influence may be asked to protect the liberties of a
religious house; but distance and the turbulence of the times rendered
the intercourse difficult, and subjected it to much interruption. Rome
was in those days pestilential;[28] the Alps were formidable, often
fatal to travellers; the seas were full of danger in the actual state
of navigation; it was a weary way from Calais to Marseilles (one of
the usual routes), and if the political aspect of things rendered
a mayor of the palace suspicious, it might be worse than a weary
way;--a journey to Rome for the sake of gaining religious knowledge
was reckoned in the middle of the seventh century a labour of uncommon
merit.[29] The church of England, therefore, was left a while pretty
much to itself; and though great good came of this, it was not without
its mixture of evil. On the one hand, the liberties of the rising
church were fostered by this non-intercourse with Rome; it threw the
nation very much upon its own resources, and gave to the king, and
above all, to synods of the clergy, an authority in ecclesiastical
affairs, to which they might not otherwise have attained. Perhaps, too,
it cultivated a better understanding between the princes and prelates,
who seem to have gone hand in in hand these early times; the former
inviting, welcoming, and establishing, by grants of land for ever,
the residence of these Christian pastors amongst their own people--a
measure of which they might not have thought the advantages so obvious,
had they thereby subjected themselves and their conduct to the
perpetual animadversion of a third party at Rome; for it is curious to
observe that, within 200 years after the foundation of the Anglo-Saxon
church, Aldfrid, a king of Northumbria, feels himself called upon to
resist the interference of the pope in a case of appeal, and actually
refuses to listen to his recommendation. On the other hand, a want of
combination and co-operation (a defect so injurious to every great
undertaking, and not the least so to the successful preaching of the
word of God,) made itself sensibly felt in the religious establishment
of England. Canons seem to have been published, but not to have been
rigidly observed. The order of episcopal succession appears to have
proceeded upon no very settled or intelligible plan; not that it was
vitiated by any incompetency of the parties to administer the rite;
but that the exercise of the episcopal office was desultory--a synod,
or an individual, or a king soliciting it, a native bishop, or a
foreigner, as it might happen, conferring it;--so that, shortly before
Bede’s time,[30] there was only one canonical bishop throughout all
England. All this worked confusion in the church; it impaired its
efficiency; it gave the ancient prejudices of Paganism, and other
causes of corruption, time to rally, and to debase the Gospel, if
they could not destroy it. Accordingly Oswi, king of Northumbria, and
Ecbert, king of Kent, thought it high time to bestir themselves. They
consulted together on the actual condition of the church, and came to a
determination, in which the church itself concurred, to send a priest
of their common choosing to Rome, to be there consecrated archbishop
of Canterbury, who might thenceforth supply the sees of England
canonically, and set in order its ecclesiastical rites. The office,
however, of reforming the Anglo-Saxon church was not destined to the
man of their choice--he, and all his, died, probably of the malaria;
and Theodore, a monk “of Tarsus, a city of Cilicia,” was finally fixed
upon by the pope, consecrated archbishop of Canterbury, and despatched
to England. He seems to have been one of those persons whose spirit and
talents give a character to the times in which they live. He made a
visitation of all England, correcting abuses, establishing discipline,
ordaining bishops, re-ordaining those whose commission was irregular,
introducing music generally into the churches, the use of it having
been as yet confined to Kent, and encouraging the study of Greek and
Latin, of which the effects were felt in the days of Bede. Thus did he
reduce to order a very disorderly state of things; and, in spite of
the various independent kingdoms into which the island was divided,
and by which misrule had been perpetuated, was an archbishop (and he
was the first) to whom the universal church of England submitted.[31]
That he might consolidate his acts, and render the unity of his church
lasting, he convoked a synod of the bishops and clergy at Heorutford
(Hereford[32]) about the year 673, and proposed for their adoption
several canons, which, as they throw considerable light on the state
of ecclesiastical affairs at that period, are here inserted:--1. That
all persons should keep Easter in common, on the Sunday after the full
moon after the vernal equinox. 2. That no bishop should interfere with
the diocese of another, but be content with governing his own. 3. That
no bishop should be at liberty to disturb a religious house in any
way, nor to take from it any portion of its property by force. 4. That
monks should not migrate from one monastery to another without the
certificate of their own abbot, but should continue under the rule to
which they at first professed obedience. 5. That the clergy should not
withdraw themselves from their own proper bishop to wander about at
large; nor should be received elsewhere unless provided with letters
commendatory from that bishop, under pain of excommunication. 6. That
bishops and clergy, who are strangers, should be treated hospitably,
and be therewith content abstaining from the exercise of their office,
unless permitted by the bishop of the diocese, in which they are
staying to do otherwise. 7. That a synod should be held twice a year;
on which, however, an amendment was moved and carried, that it should
be once a year only, and on the first of August. 8. That the bishops
should take precedence according to the priority of their consecration.
9. That the number of bishops, in consideration of the multitudes added
to the church, should be augmented: and, lastly, that license should
be allowed to no man to contract an unlawful or incestuous marriage;
that no man should put away his wife, but as the Gospel permits--for
the cause of fornication; and that whoso should put away his wife
should never be joined to another, if he would not forfeit the name
of Christian; but either remain single or be reconciled to the same.
From these provisions it may be conjectured what were the prevailing
defects of the church establishment in the seventh century; and it is
not difficult to see in them, though as yet undeveloped, several of the
evils which were destined to call for a reformation eight centuries
later. On the whole, the Anglo-Saxon church was now more perfectly
modelled upon the Roman than it had yet been; and, accordingly, some
years afterwards, a certain king of the Picts, Naiton by name, sent
to England for instructions on church architecture, and the right
observance of Easter, having heard (as he said) that the English had
conformed to the example of the holy apostolical church of Rome.[33]
As years roll on the intercourse between this country and Italy
increases[34];--a pilgrimage to Rome, which, in the middle of the
seventh century, was unusual[35], at the close of it was common enough.
Thus Ceadwalla, king of the West Saxons, abdicated, and repaired to
Rome for baptism; took the name of Peter; died, and was buried in the
church of that apostle. His successor, Ine, commending, in like manner,
his kingdom to the care of younger men, after a reign of thirty-seven
years, repaired to the threshold of the blessed apostles, desiring to
sojourn for a season upon that holy ground whilst on earth, that he
might thereby secure to himself a more friendly reception among the
saints in heaven. Cœnred, king of the Mercians, and Offa, heir-apparent
of the kingdom of the East Saxons, pursued the same course; which,
indeed, was now adopted both by noble and ignoble priests and people,
men and women, with the utmost emulation.[36]

Rome, however, had by this time, corrupted the simplicity of the
faith, as it was taught there by St. Paul in his own hired house; and
whilst, no doubt, the English pilgrims who returned brought away with
them much to civilise and something to edify, they brought away with
them, too, much to corrupt the church at home. For Rome was under a
temptation to mingle sacred and profane together; it did not, like
Constantinople, rise at once a Christian capital. The Gospel was
introduced into it, and had to win its way by slow degrees through the
ancient sympathies and inveterate habits of the Pagan city. It was a
maxim with some of the early promoters of the Christian cause to do
as little violence as possible to existing prejudices. They would
run the risk of Barnabas being confounded with Jupiter, and Paul with
Mercurius. In the transition from Pagan to Papal Rome much of the old
material was worked up. The heathen temples became Christian churches;
the altars of the gods, altars of the saints; the curtains, incense,
tapers, votive tablets, remained the same; the aquaminarium was still
the vessel for holy water; St. Peter stood at the gate instead of
Cardea; St. Rocque or St. Sebastian in the bed-room, instead of the
“Phrygian Penates;” St. Nicholas was the sign of the vessel, instead of
Castor and Pollux; the Mater Deûm became the Madonna; alms pro Matre
Deûm became alms for the Madonna; the festival of the Mater Deûm, the
festival of the Madonna, or _Lady Day_; the Hostia, or victim, was
now the host; the “Lugentes Campi,” or dismal regions, Purgatory;[37]
the offerings to the Manes were masses for the dead. The parallel might
be drawn out to a far greater extent; indeed, so much of the Roman had
been grafted upon the Roman catholic system during the dark ages (as
they are called) that the confusion of ideas and of terms resulting
from it forms quite a feature in the writings of the Italian authors
who lived at the revival of letters. Images, holy and unholy, are by
them crowded together without the smallest regard to decency, though
evidently without any intention to offend against it in the parties
themselves. Such was the process of deterioration which the Gospel was
undergoing at Rome (progressive because profitable) at the time when
our Anglo-Saxon ancestors were improving their acquaintance with that
city by repairing to it for purposes of devotion.

What were the doctrines and practices which at present prevailed in
the Anglo-Saxon church, and how far it was exempt from the errors
of later times, it is not easy to determine; more especially as the
ecclesiastical history of Bede, and the early Saxon homilies and
canons, quoted by his commentators, would often lead us to conflicting
conclusions:--

I. With regard to the doctrine of _transubstantiation_, we read
in Bede of the “bread of life,” “the holy bread;”[38] of a man dying
without the “viaticum salutis;”[39] of another, inquiring, when at the
point of death, of his attendant in a monastery, whether they had the
“eucharist in the house?”[40] and though, on one occasion, the mass is
spoken of as a _sacrifice_ (mysterii _immolatio_)[41], yet
it may be contended that the term is Gregory’s own (for it occurs in
the answer returned by him to Augustin’s queries), and that it cannot
be fairly ascribed to the venerable historian himself. Meanwhile a
canon, said to be of the age of archbishop Theodore, (and if so, more
ancient than the history, and though written in Latin, accompanied by
a Saxon translation, which, at any rate, pleads some antiquity in its
favour,) argues the body of Christ to be present in the elements, not
substantially, but spiritually; adding, that this mode is recognised
by St. Paul, who speaks of the Israelites as “eating all of the same
_spiritual_ meat, and drinking of that _spiritual_ rock which
followed them, and that rock was Christ.”[42]

II. On the subject of _image worship_, the Anglo-Saxon church
does not seem to have been altogether blameless. In the preface to
the Laws of Alfred, though the other commandments are enumerated in
their order, the second is omitted, only there is added after the
rest.--“Thou shalt not make gods of silver or gold.” There must have
been a reason for such a change in the positive terms and relative
position of this law; and it is difficult to assign any reason but
one.[43]

III. Purgatory was a part of the Anglo-Saxon creed. This, indeed, was
established on authority. Drithelme, a famous saint (as he proved)
of Northumbria, died and was buried; but he was born to refute the
apophthegm that dead men tell no tales, for he returned to life, and
gave an account of his travels.[44] He had been conducted by an angel
in white raiment towards the sunrising to a valley of vast depth and
interminable extent; the one side of it glowing with fire, the other
pelted by fierce and incessant storms of snow and hail. Between these
two conflicting elements he beheld the souls of miserable mortals
bandied to and fro, anxious to escape from the intolerable anguish of
the moment, and thus perpetually leaping from side to side in this
unhappy valley. Such was Purgatory. But though Drithelme made these
matters known to one Hæmgils, an Irishman, and through Hæmgils they
were communicated to Bede, the doctrine does not appear to have been
universally held in the Saxon church, or, at least, to have held a very
prominent place in its articles of faith. Certain it is, that in some
Anglo-Saxon sermons and confessions yet extant, no mention is made of
it, where mention of it might be expected.[45] Still, the doctrine
was clearly abroad; and in the form it had assumed the Platonic
purgatory was improved upon, and the poets, from Cædmon[46] downwards,
availed themselves of these fearful images, conjured up by the morbid
imagination of the early monks, and consigned, in their turn,

                ----“the delighted spirit
    To bathe in _fiery_ floods, or to reside
    In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice.”[47]

IV. Purgatory, of course, brought other doctrines in its train--penance
for the living, that they might never come into it;[48] confession,
that penance might be enjoined and adjusted;[49] masses for the
dead, that they might be delivered from it.[50] These acts were
not, perhaps, for a while, considered obligatory. The abuses of the
Roman catholic church did not come of observation, but crept into
the world by stealth, till, having at length established themselves
_de facto_, they were confirmed by the decrees of some general
council, and thenceforth became _de jure_ a part and parcel of the
catholic creed. Thus the use of images by degrees prevailed, till it
was eventually authorised by a decree of a council at Nice in the year
787. The doctrine of transubstantiation gained a footing in credulous
times, and was encouraged from interested motives, (for who should
set bounds to the authority of a priest who had power to produce the
Deity himself at his bidding?)[51] till it was pronounced orthodox at
the council of Placentia in 1095. The communion, in one kind only, had
become customary (from whatever cause,) and the practice received the
placet of the church in 1415, at the council of Constance.

V. The Virgin appears to have been held in great, perhaps in
idolatrous, honour by the Anglo-Saxon church. It is true that--

    The _cross_ preceding Him who floats in air,
    The pictured Saviour!

was to be seen in the processions of Augustin, and not the Virgin;[52]
and in general her name but seldom occurs in the Ecclesiastical History
of Bede; still even here some shadow of the glories that were coming
upon her advance to meet us. Eadbald the son of Ethelbert, Augustin’s
friend, is said to have founded a church after his extraordinary
conversion (for he had not in early life walked in the ways of his
father) to “the Holy Mother of God;”[53] and Bishop Wilfrid is declared
by an angel (so the legend runs) to have been delivered from death
by our Lord, at the prayers and tears of the Bishop’s disciples and
brethren, and “the _intercession_ of his own blessed virgin-mother
Mary.”[54]

VI. But, indeed, the office of intercession was not confined to the
Virgin.[55] The Saxon _saints_ were powerful both in heaven and
earth; nothing was too great or too mean for their interference. They
could recover a man from the brink of the grave, or cure a horse of
the colic.[56] They could clear an island of evil spirits, though it
had been over-run with them like a warren; and fill it with springs
of water though it had been dry and desolate.[57] They could mend
a fractured skull, and tell whether the party had been baptised
imperfectly, ineffectually, or not at all, by the rate of the
recovery.[58] A hair of their heads could cure a wen.[59] They could
disperse an abscess on the arm (without recourse to surgery,) though
large as a man’s two hands, and though it should have been occasioned
by bleeding when the moon was four days’ old, which (it seems) was
an act of incredible folly.[60] Nor was this all; they could unfold
the secrets of the grave with the utmost minuteness. One could tell
of his encounter with the soul of a sinner in the other world, which
was flung at him red-hot and burnt his shoulder and cheek, though
when relating his adventure, even if it were in the depth of winter,
and however light might be his dress, the saint would sweat as if it
were the dog-days.[61] Another could speak of a journey, under the
safe conduct of a guardian angel to the same mysterious region; of his
approach to the brink of the bottomless pit, through an atmosphere of
insufferable stench and darkness; of the balls of fire which were shot
upwards out of the abyss and fell into it again, scintillating with
the spirits of the damned; of the sudden disappearance of his heavenly
guide; of his hearing behind him in this joyless solitude the hollow
shrieks of dead men’s souls, as they were led to the the pit’s mouth,
mixed with the loud and jubilant laughter of the fiends who conducted
them; of their plunge into the burning bottomless gulf; of the dolorous
moanings and peals of merriment dying away as they went down into the
deep together; of the legion of hideous forms which now encompassed him
about threatening to seize him with their fiery pincers, but having no
power over him to hurt him; of his casting around a wistful eye to see
if there were any to help him; and of his discovering in the distance,
as it twinkled through the darkness, the light, as it were, of a
star; of its rapid approach and gradual development, till the guardian
angel again stands confessed before him; the devils retire; and he is
rewarded for his alarm by a translation to the harmonious sounds, the
Sabean odours, the pure and placid beams of Paradise.[62]

Whilst, however, we gather these exploits of the early saints of our
country from the pages of Bede, it is only just to the memory of that
veracious and single-hearted writer to observe, that numerous as may
be the lying wonders which he relates and believes on the testimony
of others of his own actual knowledge he does not pretend to one.
But wherefore are they touched upon at all? Simply because they are
characteristic of the times whereof they are told: they supply a
gauge by which we can measure the degree and the progress of those
corruptions from which the Reformation finally delivered us. Monstrous
as these legends are, they were the faith of the nation; for if Bede
receives them as facts, were his countrymen in general, so much less
enlightened than himself, likely to reject them as fictions? Moreover,
they are curious as specimens of a vast magazine of materials, which
supplied poetry when it revived after the barbarous ages with much
of its wild as well as ludicrous imagery. Dante worked them up into
his Divina Comedia. His Inferno, especially, is the offspring of an
imagination that had dieted with these monkish mysteries; and it may
be observed by the way, that even our own Paradise Lost may have felt
their influence, and that Milton may be indirectly indebted for many
of the dark and terrible features of this hell to early hagiography.
Romance, if it did not owe its existence, owed much of its furniture
to the same common stock. The poets of romance drew from it, either
directly or through the chroniclers, the adventures that suited them.
Turpin, a fictitious archbishop, is constantly introduced by them with
solemn sneers, as a voucher for the most extravagant feats of their
favourites, and thus the dishonest fictions of the priesthood were
made eventually to recoil upon their own order, and swell the cry for
reformation; for these popular writers, without, perhaps, intending
it, or caring much about the matter, did, undoubtedly, lend a helping
hand to the great cause by laughing at much that was fairly ridiculous
in the doctors and doctrines of their day; happy had they known where
to stop, and not to rush upon things truly sacred with the temerity of
fools.

But one conservative principle there was in the economy of the
Anglo-Saxon church that opposed itself to still further corruption of
the faith of Christ, and that was, the free use of the word of God. The
Scriptures might not, indeed, be very generally read; Bede complains
that they were not; but there was no hinderance thrown in the way of
reading them, quite the contrary: he himself gave a translation of the
Gospel of St. John; one of the Psalter had appeared already; and in
the interval that elapsed before the Norman conquest, other portions
of Holy Writ were put forth from time to time in the same vernacular
language. Virtue, no doubt, went out of these, narrow as might be the
limits within which they circulated; and it is no unusual matter to
find in the pages of Bede, and in the midst of the legends, relics,
visions, and superstitions, of which they are full, occasional glimpses
of better things, and some of the cardinal doctrines of Christianity
still struggling vigorously for their lives.[63]




                              CHAPTER II.

   DIVISIONS AMONGST ECCLESIASTICS.--THE REGULAR AND SECULAR
   CLERGY.--THE POPE FAVOURS THE FORMER.--EXEMPTIONS FROM EPISCOPAL
   JURISDICTION.--HABITS OF THE FRIARS.


In tracing the progress of corruption in the English church and the
causes of it, we have hitherto had a trustworthy guide in the venerable
Bede; henceforward, to the time of the Normans, there is much in our
history that is dark, intricate, and uncertain.[64] Many early church
records have perished in the fires which on different occasions have
consumed our cathedrals;--such was the fate of the documents in the
cathedral of Canterbury (of all others the most to be desired), which
were burnt together with that primitive structure soon after the Norman
conquest.[65] A similar loss, and probably one much greater in extent,
was sustained through the great fire of London, when St. Paul’s, with
its chapter house and the writings contained in it, fell a prey to the
flames;[66] not to speak of the wholesale destruction or dispersion of
books and papers which accompanied the suppression of the religious
houses, and which left to the fell swoop of the puritans but little to
do in order to extinguish much of the ancient ecclesiastical annals of
England.

However, it was undoubtedly during the interval in question, that a
schism arose in the church, which eventually hastened the crisis
of the Reformation beyond any one thing else, by dividing the house
against itself. The famous Dunstan, who was born in the year 925, was
the man to sow the Dragon’s tooth. As yet the different orders of
ecclesiastics had lived in harmony. There were secular clergy, and
there were regulars; but the latter had not hitherto taken kindly root
in England. The great number of churches existing in this kingdom in
the middle ages[67] (of which many traces yet remain in a name, where
both the building itself and all tradition of it have passed away,)
bespeaks the popularity of the secular clergy, for it is not probable
that these churches were then served from the monasteries; and,
moreover, the lodgement which the seculars effected in the religious
houses, as the latter were from time to time evacuated of their inmates
by the exterminating sword of the Danes, was the effect as well as the
cause of their increasing influence. Accordingly Dunstan found many, if
not all, of the monasteries, as well as the cathedrals, in the hands
of the canons secular, who resided with their families, performing the
daily service, and standing upon much the same footing as such persons
now do in our collegiate churches.[68] The saint, however, was not
satisfied with the state of disorganization and decay to which the
monastic order was reduced--he determined upon its reformation. The
Benedictine rule, now become popular throughout Europe, was chosen
for his experiment, and the monks were set up against the canons and
the clergy. Dunstan was not very scrupulous about the justice of the
means he used to accomplish his end; if he could not find a way he
could make one. He would enjoin the king (Edgar) for instance, as a
penance, to suppress the seculars and introduce the monks into the
churches in their stead. It is in vain that synods are held wherein the
grievances of the ecclesiastics thus violently ejected are propounded;
it is in vain that their sufferings excite the sympathy of the nobles
and the monarch who plead for their restoration. “That be far from
you,--that be far from you,” were the inexorable words which issued
from a crucifix in the council-chamber, for Dunstan had called in
the supernatural to his help. A second effort is made in behalf of
these deprived ministers. Again the saint commits the decision of his
cause to heaven, though less innocently than before. The building
where they met is shaken; the floor, at least that part of it which
was occupied by the adversaries of Dunstan, sinks from under their
feet; and whilst Dunstan and his friends continue to sit in safety,
the rest are destroyed or disabled in the ruin. There is much in both
these adventures to fasten suspicion upon the saint; for Dunstan, like
Cromwell and many more, began his career, in all probability, as a
bold and honest zealot, till height begot high thoughts, and he ended
with being an ambitious and unflinching adventurer. He was, however,
one of the master-spirits of the age. He was, strictly speaking, the
founder of the monastic orders in England. They regarded him, whilst
living, as their fearless champion, and when dead, as their most
powerful intercessor: he gave a triumph to their party which they
never forfeited; and having once by his means taken the lead of the
secular clergy, they kept it to the Reformation. From amongst the
monks of Abingdon, Winchester, and Glastonbury, the three greatest
monasteries in England, and from the last more especially, which
was Dunstan’s own abbey, were for a long while chosen almost all the
abbots, principal ecclesiastical officers, and bishops of England;[69]
such was the influence which this extraordinary man had established
in his generation; and the natural consequence of so great and so
successful an innovation was, a deep-rooted jealousy on the part of
the ancient clergy towards the regulars, who had supplanted them,
and heart-burnings between both parties, which were injurious alike
to religion itself and to the establishment which should have been
its support. Traces of this schism, for such it really was, may be
discovered both in great matters and small. It spread through the whole
church system like a leprosy. The architecture and ornaments of the
churches bespoke it. Many of those grotesque figures which are seen
to this day decorating the spouts of the roof, or the labels of the
windows, were probably meant as a fling at the monks; and satirical
caricatures to the same effect may still occasionally be met with on
the painted glass of our cathedrals. It gives a complexion to our early
literature; and the old chroniclers, being chiefly monks, betray on
their side the same besetting sin, often without intending it, and
sometimes to their own confusion. Thus we are told by one, that as long
as the canons were in possession of the church of Winchester no notice
was taken of the remains of St. Swithin, nor had a single miracle been
wrought at his grave; but that no sooner were the monks in possession,
than they carefully deposited his honoured bones within the cathedral
in a case of silver and gold, and miracles ensued abundantly;--premises
from which the worthy Thomas Rudborne, himself a monk of Winchester,
did not mean that we should infer (what, however, we naturally must)
that the canons were the more honest men of the two. Thus, again, the
biographer of Ulstan, a bishop of Worcester in the eleventh century,
tells us that as the bishop was on a journey to court, to be present at
the Christmas festival, he halted for the night at Merlave, where he
was hospitably entertained; that he informed his attendants he should
on the morrow go to a distant church which he named; that the morning
came, and with it a heavy storm of snow and rain; that his clergy made
objections to such a journey in such weather; that go, however, the
bishop would, even though he should be alone; that they were vexed,
indeed, but held their peace; that one Frewen, a man of more audacity
and address than the others, volunteered to be the good bishop’s guide;
that he acquitted him of his office but scurvily, somewhat as Ariel
might have done, taking him by the hand and leading him by a road which
proved knee-deep in mud and mire, and wherein the bishop lost a shoe;
for it was a plan of the clergy, says William of Malmesbury, who tells
this precious story, to make the bishop repent of his resolution and
be ruled by his chaplains. Ulstan, it is to be remembered, was a monk,
and so was his biographer, and hence this impotent attempt to exalt the
order at the expense of the poor seculars.[70] Such adventures are old
wives’ tales, it is true; but they are not on that account the less
fitted for showing the quarter from which the wind was setting in. On
the other hand, the secular clergy, though on many accounts acting at
a disadvantage, and certainly as a body less literary than the monks,
could occasionally retaliate. We have seen that one of their weapons
of warfare was to decorate their churches with monkish figures in
burlesque; but their means of molestation were not confined to these
inartificial expedients. Langland, for instance, was a secular priest
and a satirical poet, and in his vision of Pierce Plowman he lashes
the regulars (though chiefly a class of them of whom we have not yet
had occasion to speak) without moderation or mercy. Their artifices
to procure endowments for their houses, their love of pleasure,
their luxury, their horses, hawks, and hounds, are all touched in a
spirit sufficiently caustic.[71] It is probable that the nobles in
general took a malicious pleasure in encouraging this exposure of a
class of men who were their rivals in wealth, and their superiors in
intelligence, and thus widened the breach. Chaucer, who was a courtier
as well as a poet, no doubt reflects the feelings of the upper ranks of
his day, and he cleaves to the seculars. Meanwhile, neither of these
ecclesiastical parties seems to have been aware that by their mutual
criminations they were preparing the nation to demand a reformation
in the manners of them all; and that each was throwing stones at the
other, when the houses of both were made of glass.

But their strife was not merely a strife of tongues; it was their
pleasure to thwart one another in deed as well as in word. Whenever the
monks got footing in the cathedrals (which in many instances they very
soon did,) they proved a perpetual thorn in the side of the bishop,
more especially if he happened to have been promoted from the secular
clergy himself. Then they carried themselves towards him in a spirit
of “untamed reluctance.” They would not have this man to reign over
them. The bishops were vexed at thus having to encounter foes in their
own households, and sometimes we find them expressing an angry but
impotent wish, that England was clear of them; and sometimes we find
them by a stretch of power expelling the whole fraternity at once, and
filling up their places with canons who were ever wont to be faithful
and obedient to their diocesan.[72] On one occasion, indeed, this
policy is not only put in practice by a bishop of Winchester, but an
attempt is made by him to induce all the prelates of England to adopt
the same. William the Conqueror (for it was under him that the thing
occurred) was nothing loth to listen to the overture of Walkelin (for
that was the bishop’s name), and to second this violent measure,[73]
probably meaning to lay claim to a lion’s share of the spoil;[74] for
the Norman princes, like some more modern reformers, had the appetite
of the dragon of Wantly--“houses and churches were to them geese and
turkeys;” but archbishop Lanfranc, the first metropolitan under the
Norman dynasty, a good man and a wise, stood in the gap, and saved his
church from the tender mercies of a reform, which, being interpreted,
would have been a robbery. He, again, had been himself a monk, and
probably would on that account view the transgressions of the monks
with more charity, and, perhaps, be personally less exposed to their
malice. And, indeed, if there must needs be this division of seculars
and regulars, it was a happy circumstance for the church, and we will
add for the country (for with all its gross defects it was the fountain
of life and light to the nation in those times), that the dignitaries
were taken from both classes, though chiefly, no doubt, from the
regulars; and that thus they mutually acted as checks upon those
classes, in any momentary ebullitions of party spirit; not to say that
those who were removed from the monastery to the mitre would find their
past prejudices corrected by a new position and new interests, and by
the discovery that men of their own order were not always the most
dutiful of their sons. Thus in the working of the system, there were
some of those selfcorrecting principles and balances brought into play
which in part protected it from itself, and the like to which (though
so often overlooked or undervalued) constitute the real worth of many a
system which wears an unpromising aspect, and which, in spite of those
querulous empirics who assure us that it ought to go intolerably wrong,
persists in going tolerably right notwithstanding. This observation
is thrown out merely to account for the long continuance of a system,
containing within itself such active elements of ruin, as, abstractedly
considered, might have been expected to put an end to it much sooner.

But this is not all. In our _post-mortem_ examination of
the Roman catholic church of England, undertaken with a view to
ascertain the complicated disorders which made a way for its final
dissolution, another feature presents itself akin to the last. William
the Conqueror, who cared as little for the discipline of the church
as for the laws of the land, thought proper to exempt a monastery
which he had founded (that of St. Martin de Bello) from episcopal
jurisdiction altogether. From this moment a mad ambition drove the
monks of the principal religious houses to seek for themselves a
similar privilege. Baldwin, abbot of St. Edmunds (Bury), at that time
one of the finest foundations in England, obtained such exemption from
pope Alexander, although, in the deed which conferred it, and which
was executed before the year 1073, the pope, as if lending himself to
a transaction hitherto unattempted and unheard of, expresses himself
with some reserve--“as far as the thing could be done, _salvâ
primatis obedientiâ_,” consistently with obedience to the primate.
Lanfranc, however, then archbishop, who watched over the interests of
the church (as we have already seen) with a cautious and prophetic
eye, took away this dangerous privilege from the abbot, on his
return to England, and reduced him to submission. But less resolute
men, such as Radulph, William, and Theobald, succeeding him in the
primacy, and the liberties of the church of England having been, in
the mean while, crippled by the machinations of Rome, the monks took
courage, and, feeling their own strength, claimed exemption from the
jurisdiction of archbishops as well as bishops, as a matter of right;
and, producing certain charters of ancient date (so they pretended),
granted to them by popes or princes, carried their suit into the courts
of Rome, and got it confirmed. This dispensation, bad in theory, was
not better in practice. The monks of Malmesbury, for instance, had
lately (about A. D. 1180) elected an abbot. The bishop of
Salisbury interdicts the abbot elect from receiving the benediction at
any other hands than his own; whereupon the latter goes into Wales,
and procures it from the bishop of Landaff (for the Welsh church was
still independent of England); on this the archbishop suspends the
abbot until he can justify his disobedience by producing his letters
of exemption. The abbot presents to the archbishop his charter, which
turns out to be faulty in the style, the thread, and the seal, and
which savours little of the court of Rome. The bishop asserts it to be
spurious, and exhibits many professions of submission on the part of
the abbots of Malmesbury, made to him or his predecessors. The abbot
is contumacious, declares that he holds himself bound to answer to no
superior, whether bishop or archbishop, but to the pope only; and adds,
“poor and miserable is the abbot who does not utterly annihilate the
jurisdiction of a bishop, when, for a single ounce of gold a year, he
may buy full liberty for himself from Rome.” The archbishop, therefore,
entreats the pope not to aid and abet this turbulent person; and, at
the same time, bitterly laments the injury done, not to the bishops
only, but to the whole church, by these papal exemptions--exemptions
which had proved ruinous to the peace, discipline, and good order of
the monasteries themselves which enjoyed them.[75]

Here, therefore, was a rift in the church, which time only widened, and
which unfitted it for sustaining a storm whenever it should come. But
the mischief did not end here. Long before the monks had escaped from
the eye of their bishop, they had relaxed from the Sabine simplicity
of their primitive institutions; now that they were left at liberty to
do what seemed good in their own sight, matters went worse. Giraldus
Cambrensis, a writer of the twelfth century, tells us, that on his
return from abroad (he had been prosecuting his theological studies at
Paris) he dined with the monks of Canterbury. Having eaten of their
bread, he lifts up his heel against them, and maliciously exposes their
bill of fare. It is curious as a picture of the times:--sixteen lordly
dishes and upwards, besides a course of herbs, which latter, however,
were not in much request; fish of divers kinds--roast and boiled,
stewed and fried; omelets, seasoned meats, and sundry provocatives
of the palate, prepared by cunning cooks; wines in ample profusion;
sicera, piment, claret, must, mede, and moretum (mulberry),--any thing
and every thing but ale, the boast of England, and more especially
of Kent. “What would Paul the Hermit have said to all this?” thinks
the splenetic Giraldus to himself, “or St. Anthony? or St. Benedict,
the founder of the order?”[76] Such evidence, however, is to be
received with considerable suspicion. There was for ages before their
suppression, a run at the monks. A strong party spirit discovers
itself in almost all that relates to the church in these middle ages,
much as we are told of the harmony that prevailed in it before the
reformation. The writer just quoted was a Welsh archdeacon, very far
from a good-natured Sir Hugh, who would “persuade a man not to make
a star-chamber matter of it;” on the contrary, he finds nothing as it
should be: he is one of those dissatisfied spirits that delight in
the study of morbid anatomy; neither monks nor bishops please him;
he vexes himself because he cannot make a hundred watches go by his
own, never suspecting that, after all, his own may be wrong; and, in
his memoir of the Rights and Conditions of the Church of South Wales,
he sums up the merits of the Cambrian Clergy with a testy anathema,
something after the manner of Bruce’s benediction of the monks of
Gondar, against the whole body, as traitors to him (though it does not
appear that they had ever trusted him,) and to the liberties of the
church to which they belonged.[77] But, when every allowance is made
for the prejudice of the witnesses of the day, it is clear that by the
thirteenth century, monks were no longer men of St. Benedict, and that
another Dunstan, or a better man, was wanted to revive the monastic
spirit, and to recover for the regulars the credit they had lost.
Accordingly, in this century, the mendicant orders recently brought
into being--the maggots not so much of corrupted texts as of corrupted
times--found their way into England. The Franciscans, or Friars Minors,
the Dominicans, or Black Friars; the Carmelites, or White Friars;
and the Augustins, or Grey Friars; were the four divisions. Of these
the two former were the most considerable; the Franciscans were the
chief of all. The first settlement of these last was at Canterbury, in
1234; that of the Dominicans, thirteen years earlier, at Oxford; at
which place, as well as at Cambridge, all the four orders soon found
themselves in possession of flourishing houses.[78] There was much
to captivate in their prospectus. All worldly views they renounced;
they depended upon the alms of the people; and the people, admiring
their disinterestedness, and reverencing their piety (which was, or
which seemed to be, much beyond that of the monks,) were cheerful
givers. They cultivated learning with great success; filled the
professors’ chairs in the universities; searched out manuscripts, and
multiplied the copies; collected libraries at any cost (for their
popularity furnished them with the means); not a treatise on the arts,
theology or the civil law appeared, but the friars bought it up. They
improved the architecture of their country; for though their vow, like
that of the Rhecabites, scarcely allowed them to sow seed or plant
vineyards, or have any, it did not deny to them the building of houses;
and, accordingly, on these were lavished the ample sums which the
munificence of their benefactors poured into their treasury. It was the
ambition of the great and noble that their bones should rest within
these hallowed walls; and sumptuous shrines bespoke the mighty dead
that slept in the chapel of St. Francis. All this might be well; but
your friar was a sturdy beggar, and prosperity made him forget himself.
He learned to drop the literary and religious character, and assume the
politician. He engaged in diplomacy; mixed in the intrigues of courts;
discussed treaties, formed alliances, and resolutely maintained the
authority of the pope (whose creature he was) against all the princes
and prelates of Christendom. He was furnished by his master with powers
for effecting all this; and these he used to the confusion both of
seculars and monks. He could preach where he would, if he could not
lawfully take possession of the church of the minister, he could erect
his ambulatory pulpit at any cross, in any parish, and rail (as he
generally did) at the supineness and ignorance of the resident pastor.
If he chanced to be received under the parsonage roof (as he seldom
was,) he was felt to be a snake in the grass ready to betray his host
in return for his hospitality; and, if he saw a fowl or a flask on his
table, to denounce him, in his next day’s harangue, as a gluttonous man
and a wine-bibber.[79] He could confess whosoever might come to him. It
was to no purpose that a parish priest refused absolution to any black
sheep of his flock; away he went to a Franciscan, and absolution was
given him at once; the more readily, indeed, as an opportunity was thus
afforded the friar of expressing his contempt of every ecclesiastical
body but his own. Nor did he enter into the labours of the parochial
minister only; he had nobler game in another class of seculars--the
cathedral clergy. These he reduced to poverty, and the venerable
edifices to which they belonged to decay. The cathedrals were erected
and maintained by the proceeds of lands--endowments for the most part
received from kings, as the parish churches were generally endowed by
_lords of manors_; and dioceses, even in this day, would be found,
we suspect, on a careful examination, to have a more than imaginary
reference in their dimensions to the limits of the several Saxon
kingdoms into which the island was divided, as parishes certainly have
a reference to the estates of individuals. They were further supported
by _pentecostals_, which was an annual composition paid by every
household at Pentecost; as an acknowledgement of attachment to the
mother church; and, lastly, by _benefactions_, _oblations_,
and _obits_, the free-will offerings of the multitude. For a long
time these two latter sources of revenue were very considerable. The
people had a pride and pleasure in contributing to the erection, the
repairs, and the maintenance of these beautiful structures, which were
at once the goodly ornaments of the districts in which they stood; the
temples of God, to whose service the pious felt themselves thus giving
back a part of what he had freely conferred on them; and the tombs of
their fathers; for it was the desire of those simple days to be buried
near the grave of some man of God, whose memory was fragrant among
them, and to lay their bones beside his bones. But the friars poisoned
the minds of the people, and shook this allegiance. St. Francis was
above all the saints, not to say above the Saviour himself. To die in
the weeds of a Franciscan, was to die the death of the righteous: and
to repose after death in a Franciscan monastery, was to have angels
for the guardians of your sepulchre. Accordingly, about the fourteenth
century, the pentecostals began to be evaded; recovery was to be made
of them by force of law; and free-will offerings to the cathedrals
ceased altogether. The number of residentiaries was consequently
reduced (a measure of necessity, which involved much subsequent
inconvenience and legal dispute,) and the buildings themselves were
with difficulty preserved from the injuries of time.[80] Neither
did the schism end here. Before, however, we go further, it may due
to ourselves to remark, that it is not because an historian of the
reformation, protestant though he be, finds pleasure in thus uncovering
the nakedness of the Roman catholic church, that he dwells so
exclusively on its peccant parts, nor yet because he is not aware that
better things may be said of it; but simply because his subject leads
him to develope those defects, both in its doctrine and discipline
which paved the way for its eventual overthrow, not to recount the
virtues which, in spite of such defects, preserved it so long. At the
same time, he naturally feels some satisfaction in vindicating his own
church from a comparison by which it is thought to suffer, and which
represents it as full of discord and division, whilst the church which
it supplanted was at unity with itself. Such was not, we see, the
case. Time has, indeed, hushed all report of the bickerings of men who
lived three or four centuries ago, and it may be invidious to awake
the echo; but tenderness to the dead must not betray us into injustice
to the living, and however error may be concealed, it must not be
consecrated by the grave. But to return: hitherto we have represented
the friars as the enemies of the secular clergy only, whether cathedral
or parochial. They had their stone, however, to cast at the monks.
It was their pleasure to contrast their own affected poverty (which
lasted just so long as they could not help it) with the gallant
bearing, profuse expenditure, and ample retinues of these latter,
who, in their turn, expressed their contempt for them, not the less
cordially, perhaps from a consciousness that the contrast was striking.
In a manuscript which once belonged to a learned Benedictine, and is
now in the library of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, is a drawing
of four devils hugging four mendicant friars, one of each order, with
great familiarity and affection.[81] But other weapons, offensive and
defensive, were used besides ridicule. Thus the greater monasteries
would occasionally rouse themselves, and found a small college or
hall at the universities for their own novices, that they might not
resign to their antagonists, without a struggle, the entire possession
of those ancient seats of learning. So, again, when their members
proceeded to degrees, they would often do it with studious costs and
popular display, turning the occasion into a holiday spectacle, which
might be set in balance against the miracles, mysteries, and other
theatrical attractions of the mendicants.[82] These latter, however,
might have long laughed at such artifices, had they continued true
to one another; but the arrow which pierced them to the heart was
feathered from their own wing. Their principles, like those of modern
dissenters, propagated schism; they split amongst themselves; and
the four orders tore the coat, which should be without seam, into as
many parts. Mutual abuse, instead of cordial co-operation, was their
maxim. The poor ploughman who sought instruction in his creed at the
hands of the Friars Minors, was only told, as he valued his soul, to
beware of the Carmelites; the Carmelites promoted his edification by
denouncing the Dominican; the Dominicans in their turn by condemning
the Augustins. “Be true to us,” was the language of each; “give us
your money, and you shall be saved without a creed.”[83] Indeed, the
frailty of human nature soon found out the weak places of the mendicant
system. Soon had the primitive zeal of its founders burnt itself
out; and then its censer was no longer lighted with fire from the
altar:--a living was to be made. The vows of voluntary poverty only
led to jesuitical expedients for evading it; a straining at gnats and
swallowing of camels. The populace were to be alarmed, or caressed, or
cajoled out of a subsistence. A death bed was a friar’s harvest; then
were suggested the foundation of chantries, and the provision of masses
and wax-lights. The confessional was his exchequer; there hints were
dropped that the convent needed a new window, or that it owed “fortie
pound for stones.” Was the good man of the house refractory? The friar
had the art of leading the women captive, and reaching the family purse
by means of the wife.[84] Was the piety of the public to be stimulated?
Rival relics were set up, and impostures of all kinds multiplied
without shame, to the impoverishment of the people, the disgrace of the
church, and the scandal of Christianity.

It is revolting to bear record of these villanies--to see sordid
advantage taken of the most sacred feelings of mankind, and religion
itself subjected to suspicion through the hypocrisy of its professors.
But, however humiliating may be the confession, experience has
sanctioned it as a truth, that an indigent church makes a corrupt
clergy; that in order to secure a priesthood which shall wear well, a
permanent provision must be set aside for their maintenance--such a
provision as shall induce men duly qualified, to enter the church, for
it is visionary to suppose that temporal motives will not have their
weight in this temporal state of things; and it is unreasonable to
expect that persons who are excluded by the rules of society from the
usual inlets to wealth, the courts, the camp, or the exchange, and who
cannot but know or feel, when they are honestly doing their duty, that
they are as good commonwealth’s men, to put it upon no higher ground,
as any others, and therefore have as good a right to its liberal
regards as any others, should be content to waive this right;--such
a provision as shall be enough to ensure recruits for the priesthood
from all ranks, the highest as well as those below, and so to ensure
their easy intercourse with all ranks; for the leaven should leaven the
_whole_ lump;--such a provision as should encourage them to speak
with all boldness, crouching to no man for their morsel of bread, nor
tempted to lick the hand that feeds them;--such a provision as should
prevent the meanness of their condition from prejudicing the force of
their reasons, or give occasion to a high-minded hearer to accuse their
plain speech of unmannerly presumption. Surely, until we can find such
a church upon earth, in all her members, and in all the successive
generations of her members, as can be true to the image of our Lord,
it is a vision indeed to reject all adventitious support, such as her
condition may require, and to say with the great puritan poet, that
she should be content, as he was, to ride upon an ass.”[85]

It is needless to add, that the friars at length became as rottenness
to the bones of the Roman catholic church; that, by the time of Erasmus
and Luther, they were the butt at which every dissolute idler, on
every tavern bench, discharged his shaft, hitting the establishment,
and religion itself, through their sides; that they were exhibited in
pot-house pictures as foxes preaching, with the neck of a stolen goose
peeping out of the hood behind; as wolves giving absolutions, with
a sheep muffled up in their cloaks; as apes sitting by a sick man’s
bed, with a crucifix in one hand, and with the other in the sufferer’s
fob.[86] Still the disaffection which this ridicule both indicated
and promoted, was in some degree neutralised. There was, something,
after all, in the constitution of such an order as the friars, which
gratified the feelings of the people, and which led to their continued
toleration, if not to their aggrandisement. They were, for the most
part, men of themselves; they were the democratic portion of the
church. It no doubt flattered the vanity of the peasant or mechanic,
to see his own flesh and blood bearding the first-born of Egypt with
whom he was brought into contact, or rather collision, in the members
of the old and orthodox abbeys; nor would it be less grateful perhaps,
to an unlettered man to hear the _clerk_ of his own name, and
of his own breeding, starting and maintaining with vast pertinacity
theological subtleties, which had little other merit, to be sure, than
that of being in opposition to received opinions, and an assertion of
the right of every man to think for himself, however ill he might be
qualified for doing so to advantage.

Then, again the pope was a tower of strength to the mendicant orders.
They were the men of his right hand; and it may be observed, that when
the Reformation came on, which was, amidst other and nobler interests
concerned, a struggle in the first instance between the king and the
pope for the mastery, the smaller monasteries (which were those of the
friars) were the first confiscated by Henry; for he considered them the
barracks from which his most inveterate enemies issued to the contest,
prepared to maintain the cause of their sovereign lord the pope against
any and every antagonist. Lastly, it is not to be forgotten, that the
cloak of the friar was the refuge for a class of men who would now be
supported by parish relief, and though in both cases the idle might
often be enabled hereby to enter into the labours of others, yet often
again assistance would be thus administered to the blameless sufferer,
and the load of life on the whole be lightened to the poor.

Such were some of the circumstances that still upheld the mendicants
even in the days of their degeneracy, when the spirit was gone that
had urged them indeed to enthusiastic extravagances and puerile
superstitions, but which was respected because it was thought to be
sincere; and when little remained behind but a _caput mortuum_ of
unmeaning forms of devotion, and crafty contrivances for gain.




                             CHAPTER III.

   PROGRESS OF GRIEVANCES UNDER THE NORMAN PRINCES.--PAPAL
   INTERFERENCE.--LEGATES.--COLLISION OF ROMAN AND ENGLISH FORMS OF
   LAW.--INCONVENIENCES ATTENDING IT.


It has been already observed that the distance of England from Italy,
which had helped to deliver our borders from the political tyranny of
imperial Rome, served also to protect the liberties of our church from
the spiritual thraldom of papal Rome. The inhabitants of this island,
entirely cut off from the rest of the world, were happily abandoned
to their own devices. They were themselves the best judges of their
own wants, and of the institutions which were suited to their own
habits and circumstances; and though some time might elapse whilst
they were thus groping out their way, which might have been saved by
accepting foreign guidance, and though some rude traces of their slow
and tentative progress towards their end might even afterwards appear
in the results of their labours, still it was most desirable in the
establishment of a church that it should gradually adapt itself in its
growth and formation to the wants, the wishes, and the actual condition
of the country. The least of all seeds was then most likely to become
the greatest of trees, when it was left to thrive alone (_occulto
velut arbor ævo_); when its roots were quietly suffered to feel for
the soil that fed them best, and its branches to stretch out their arms
towards the quarter of the heavens which proved the most genial. The
spirit of Christianity itself, at its first appearance, invited this
forbearance on the part of those amongst whom it came, not meddling
bodily with the civil or political rights of the nations it visited,
and leaving their laws and forms of government, in their letter at
least, just what it found them.

Thus in England the church and state for a long time grew up together,
the pope occasionally interfering, though generally on invitation,
and scarcely ever in a manner to disturb the harmony of the system.
In Saxon times, we find the prelate and the king friends and
fellow-workers together--the one teaching the people, the other taking
an interest in his office, and making provision for its permanent
continuance. The same good understanding which subsisted between the
bishop and the sovereign, subsisted also between the priest and the
noble: here, again, the one communicated a knowledge of God’s laws to
the inhabitants of the manor, the other encouraged the good work, and
secured a similar benefit to his estate for ever by a fixed endowment;
for in those days there was a belief that the foundations of a state
were best laid in religion, and that persons were better subjects and
better citizens in proportion as they were better men. Did difficulties
present themselves in questions ecclesiastical; were obstacles to be
removed, or improvements to be made, or observances to be enforced,
the nation had that within itself which usually supplied the remedy.
Matters were transacted within the four seas. Civil interpositions,
_e. g._ whether of the king or the great council, protected the
persons and estates of the clergy, determined the union or dissolution
of dioceses, directed the recovery of tithes; defined and punished
sacrilege, prescribed and limited the right of sanctuary, insisted
upon the observance of the Sabbath, and fined for the contempt of
it.[87] Were the laws to be administered? Still there was the same
intimate union maintained between clerical and secular interests. The
bishop or his deputy (the _missus episcopi_) presided with the
alderman in the county court, with the cent-grave in the hundred,
with the town-reeve in the borough, with the steward of the manor in
each parish; and judicial decisions which thus proceeded from the
temporal and spiritual authorities combined were received with a
respect which neither party could have secured for them, if acting
alone.[88] Meanwhile all collision of church and state was avoided, and
a wholesome sympathy sprung up between them as they mutually shed an
influence on each other. William, however, was jealous of the clergy,
and it must be confessed that Dunstan had not done much to make them
find favour in the eyes of a high-spirited monarch. Accordingly,
a measure which he had already adopted in his Norman dominions he
extended to England, and separated the civil and ecclesiastical courts.
The remote consequences of this innovation were the reverse of what
was intended; but its direct effect was to withdraw considerable power
from the hands of the bishop; to diminish his income by the fines
which fell to his share; and to withhold from him the opportunity of
appearing to advantage before the people, who could not fail of drawing
a comparison between him and the secular judges who sat with him;
between the man of learning and the men of arms.[89] It was not till
the end of the reign of Henry I. that the change began to make itself
felt. Now, however, the clergy, no longer supported by the crown in
the same degree as before, nor making common cause with the nobles,
were unable to uphold the independence of the national church against
the pope, who was waxing stronger every day; for he was even then no
indifferent spectator of the affairs of nations, but was still on the
watch ready to profit by the mistakes of others. Already he had made
several unsuccessful attempts on the liberties of England. The case
of Bishop Wilfrid was briefly alluded to in the first chapter. He was
ejected from his see by Ecgfrid, king of Northumbria; he carried his
complaints to Rome; it was the judgment of Pope Agatho in council that
he had been unjustly deprived. After a while he returned to England and
resumed his episcopal functions; but it was at _the request_ of
King Aldfrid, who had in the mean time succeeded Ecgfrid. This proves
something; but the sequel of the story proves more. Wilfrid offends
again--is again deprived; again appeals to Rome; and presents himself
together with his accusers before Pope John, the successor of Agatho.
Once more the decision is in favour of the bishop; and the pope on this
occasion writes to the two kings, Ethelred and Aldfrid, to reinstall
him in his see, from which it was his opinion, he had been unlawfully
expelled. Ethelred (who had now abdicated in favour of Cœnred and had
retired to a monastery) stood his friend, and advised compliance with
the wishes of the pope; but _Aldfrid scorned to receive him_[90],
and if we are to believe the bishop’s biographer, expressed in no very
measured terms his contempt for papal rescripts.[91] But it cost him
dear, his death following shortly after, which Bede insinuates was a
judgment upon him for this act of contumacy.[92] This was about the
year 704. Again, there exists a letter addressed to Pope Leo III. by
the bishops and clergy of England, protesting against the necessity
of their metropolitan spending his labour in travelling to Rome for
the pall, or his money in purchasing it, when the early records of
the church went to prove that some archbishops had not received it at
all, and that none had bought it at a price; happy times, they add, in
which the apostolic see did not expose itself to the reproach which
St. Peter cast on Simon, “Thy money perish with thee.”[93] This was
about the year 798. The pope, therefore, was ready to rush in with
the first opportunity, and at length, one presented itself. William
requested the assistance of Rome to remodel the English church after
the great Norman revolution; his request, we may be sure, was readily
complied with. Certain cardinal priests are despatched, who endeavour
to approximate Rome and Canterbury, by preaching on behalf of the
pope, the pall, personal homage to the apostolic see, and the right
of investiture to bishoprics; and though efforts are made to saddle
upon England a permanent representative of the pope, under the title
of Legate (a name perhaps derived from the military officer whom the
Roman emperors used to send out to govern a province), this latter
proposal is for the present abortive. In some of the other measures
they appear to have sped better; for we may observe that on the demise
of each archbishop successively (with few exceptions) there now occurs
a memorandum of a vacancy in the see of twelve months or more, during
which it is reasonable to suppose that the metropolitan elect was
making application to Rome personally, or by proxy, for confirmation of
his appointment and peaceable possession of the mitre.[94] Sometimes
this interval is protracted to several years, the right of investiture
being in such cases most likely a bone of contention between the
king and the pope, and the subject not admitting of a more speedy
adjustment. Indeed, this was a question of great intricacy; one, in
which the most dispassionate lookers on must have found it difficult
to strike a balance between the evil and the good. If, on the one hand,
the pope was permitted to present to the sees and abbeys of England,
he would fill the country, perhaps with foreigners, certainly with
creatures of his own, and then what was to become of the independence
of the national church? On the other hand, if the king presented,
rapacious as the early Norman monarchs were, he might make a profit
of his privilege, put up the sacred offices to auction, as King Rufus
actually did;[95] or retain in his own hands, as that same tyrant
was found to have done at the day of his death, an archbishopric of
Canterbury, the bishoprics of Winchester and Salisbury, together with
a dozen good abbeys, and then what was to become of the very existence
of the national church?[96] It was probably these latter considerations
that induced Archbishop Anselm, a sincere friend and well-wisher, as it
should seem, to his church, to throw it more effectually into the hands
of the pope, by procuring from him an injunction that no prelate, abbot
or priest, should receive investiture of any dignity ecclesiastical
whatsoever from a layman. King Henry, perhaps unwilling to risk a
rupture at one and the same time with his church at home, with a strong
faction of his nobles who supported it, and gave evidence of their
intention to do so with spirit by the oath they subsequently imposed
upon Stephen[97], and with the papal power now grown formidable, gave
way, and granted to the cathedrals and collegiate churches of his realm
license to elect any of their own body into abbey or bishopric, thereby
waiving a right which by an act of usurpation the kings had assumed
since _the conquest_, of conferring mitres and monasteries on whom
they would.[98] Thus the authority of the Saxon synod, in which the
bishops and clergy combined with the king for ecclesiastical elections,
was in some measure restored, and though certainly less independent
and absolute than formerly,[99] it was something that it had again a
voice: at present, it should appear, that the theory of ecclesiastical
appointments was this, the chapters elected, the king approved,
the pope confirmed the choice.[100] But there were here too many
parties having too many conflicting interests to admit of perpetual
harmony. Accordingly the struggle begins; and now the pope has his
right of investiture; and now the king cripples it by suspending the
temporalities of the see during its vacancy, and leaving his holiness
nothing to present unto but the bare episcopal office;[101] and now he
accepts the king’s candidate to the rejection of him whom the chapter
had unanimously chosen;[102] and now again he seems to take upon
himself the sole responsibility of the appointment on the principle
that “my name is Leo.”[103] On the whole, the strife issued out as it
was natural it should, in the despot; the pope prevailed; his legate
(for by the end of the reign of Henry I. a legate had established a
right of road into England) was ever upon the watch; and the opposition
of the national clergy, which was considerable, to the advances of
this active emissary, was taken off by identifying the legate with the
Archbishop of Canterbury himself. This was a masterstroke of policy;
it at once removed the leader of the insurgents, and grafting the
unfounded pretensions of the legate on the acknowledged rights of the
archbishop, made him in his latter character the best of stalking
horses for papal encroachments. When the high spirit of the clergy
would have tempted them to resist him in one capacity, their sense
of what was due to him in his other capacity kept them in check; to
abstract the legate from the metropolitan was impossible; the functions
of the two were in constant conflict; and it must have been felt that
there was a drag on the church which was pulling it in pieces. He,
however, as the pope’s representative, continued to convene provincial
synods and preside in them; to exercise all manner of jurisdiction; to
withdraw from the cognisance of parliament ecclesiastical grievances;
to interfere with the diocesan courts, and excite the just jealousy
of the bishops by supplanting them in some of their most ancient
and indisputable rights. Questions touching the probate of wills,
administrations, appeals, visitations, and the like, afforded but too
much opportunity for collision, and the church was scandalised by a
contest, rather for the fees than for the faith.[104] Thus did the
establishment suffer both from within and from without: from within,
by the decay of all discipline; from without, by the forfeiture of all
respect.

Nor was this all. Nothing contributes so much to disgust the public
mind with the existing order of things as the faulty administration
of justice. Let the people have justice purely, unexpensively, and
expeditiously administered, and what chiefly concerns them in the
government of a country is obtained. “I crave the law,” is the demand
of any stout-hearted nation, and having gained this object, they are
at peace. Now the ancient county-court was simple and satisfactory in
its practice--it was the natural growth of the soil; suited to the
wants of Englishmen, and consecrated by immemorial usage. The judiciary
system introduced by the pope, on the other hand, into the diocesan
courts, of which rescripts from Rome and (subsequently when the books
of the civil law had been discovered) the old Roman jurisprudence were
the basis, was tedious, costly, and what was perhaps worse than all,
novel.[105] Even of those who had to administer it, there were some who
did it reluctantly, strove to evade it, and adopted the trial by jury
instead of the subtleties of the Roman law; but these innovations were
accounted heretical, and prohibitions were issued against Grosthead,
Bishop of Lincoln, and others, who had the courage or temerity to
attempt them.[106] Still it was one thing to silence, and another to
satisfy. Much inconvenience was felt by the people in consequence
of “the law’s delay,” and a proportionate desire was created for a
reformation of the system. The rolls of parliament, from Edward III.
to Henry VIII., present numerous complaints to the Commons on the
difficulties attending the probate of wills; and such there well might
be, when, in addition to the parties already mentioned, the bishop and
the legate, each of whom asserted his own exclusive right of probate,
and referred his cause to the pope, a third party stepped in, under the
title of _legatus e latere_, or special legate, who in his turn,
contested the privileges of the _legatus natus_, and urged his
own superior claim to the cognisance of all testamentary matters.[107]
Nor were the grievances touching property more onerous than those
which regarded domestic relationship. The regulations of marriage were
intricate and vexatious: whilst it was maintained to be in itself a
sacrament, and so indissoluble, the prohibited degrees were studiously
multiplied, and thereby a pretence was furnished for a dissolution
whenever it should be the pope’s pleasure to pronounce it. Thus did
he hold in his hands, and determine by his legate, or by the dean of
the arches, the legate’s deputy, the legitimacy of children, and the
succession of families, separating those whom no man had a right to put
asunder, and giving his sanction to unions which nature and Scripture
forbade.

The progress of a cause, slow, of necessity by reason of the forms of
the court, and the contradictions of the canons, was still further and
more seriously impeded by appeals. By these, episcopal decisions were
set at nought; and the more effectually as the court of the arches was
invested with the power of suspending the process of the ordinary till
the pope’s answer should be received, and often no doubt, till one or
both of the litigants would be ready to exclaim with King Henry, whose
divorce presents, in its seven years’ details, a splendid example of
the grievances under which numbers of his subjects were suffering, with
more right on their side--

                        ----“I abhor
    This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.”

It would be a long labour, and one, perhaps of no great interest to
the majority of our readers after all, to follow out this branch
of our subject in all its extent. Suffice it, however, not to have
passed over in silence so fruitful a source of popular discontent as
abuses in the administration of the law--abuses which could fail of
alienating multitudes from a church with which they were identified.
It is not, perhaps, a circumstance less worthy of notice from being
often overlooked, and whilst the more obvious evils which clamorously
demanded redress are set forth to the full, one which touched men in
their property, their affections--which met them in the affairs of
“this working-day world” at every turn--is noticed casually, or not at
all.

There may be those, indeed, who think that to dwell at so much length
on the secondary and more disgraceful causes of the Reformation, is
to detract from the character of that great event, and to tarnish its
lustre; but they who regard God’s enemies as his instruments will not
so account of it. They will see in the course given to those beggarly
elements the same superintending hand that wrought the nourishment
of Jacob’s household out of the sin of Jacob’s sons; so that whilst
they wickedly sold Joseph to the Ishmaelites, God mercifully made it
for good, sending him before them, by this means, to preserve them a
posterity in the earth, and to save their lives by a great deliverance.
They will see in it the same power at work that shaped the cruel
decree of Pharaoh for the children to be cast into the river into an
easy provision for bringing up Moses in the royal household, and thus
fitting him to be the teacher and leader of Israel, by introducing him
into all the wisdom of the Egyptians. They will see in it the same that
achieved the salvation of the world itself, by Caiphas who declared
that it was expedient for one man to die for the people, and by the
wretches that cried, “Crucify him! crucify him!”




                              CHAPTER IV.

          MONASTERIES.--THEIR USURPATION OF THE RIGHTS OF THE
            CLERGY.--IMPROPRIATIONS.--EVILS OF THE SYSTEM.


With the causes already enumerated as those which worked the downfall
of the Roman Catholic church, there conspired the ignorance and
immoral lives of the clergy. A system of celibacy upon compulsion was
sure to produce a system of profligacy. Yet the disgusting catalogue
of offences alleged against the regulars, by the visiters of the
monasteries, ought, perhaps, to be received with some caution. The
commissioners were not unprejudiced judges. They knew full well, that
the king, their master, was determined on the dissolution of the
religious houses, and that, at all events, a quarrel was to be picked.
Bad enough those houses probably were, but had they been better, their
doom was sealed. The preamble of the act for dissolving the smaller
ones on pretence of their corruption, proclaims that the greater were
spared as being regular, devout, and praiseworthy; yet we know what
followed.[108] The nunnery of Godstow, in Oxfordshire, was actually
reported as exemplary; it was the school to which all the young
gentlewomen of the country resorted. Their friends pleaded with the
king to spare it, the inquisitors seconded their petition,--but they
obtained for it no other boon than that it should be eaten up last.
Voluntary confessions of guilt, which accompanied the surrender of the
abbeys, are the mere suicidal confessions of a man upon the wheel,
proof of nothing but of the pain or the hope which extorted them. The
monks found that they could not save their ship, and therefore, they
compromised, by stripping themselves naked, and trying for a plank.
Had they stood upon their own innocence, they would have condemned the
king, and still lost their estates; did they allow their guilt, they
screened his rapacity, and received a see, a living, or a pension. The
courtiers were interested in swelling the cry that such men were not
fit to live. They, like the visiters, themselves hoped for a share of
the golden eggs when they should have succeeded in killing the hen.
“Wherefore this waste?” was their pretence; but they carried a bag of
their own, which was to be filled out of their neighbour’s pocket; and,
whatever might be the sin of sacrilege, “tithe corn,” thought they,
“makes very good bread.” Here is no attempt or desire to defend these
miserable monks in the teeth of damning facts--and some such, no doubt,
there were to testify against very many of the monastic abuses--but
it is nothing but justice, and the practice of every equitable court,
to weigh the characters and prejudices, and private interests of the
witnesses, when they would swear away a man’s life, substance, and good
name; and, in the present instance, it is fair to adopt the same rule,
were it only out of consideration to the many sincere, and humble, and
righteous servants of God, that those religious houses contained within
their walls, even in the midst of an adulterous and sinful generation;
the faithful among the faithless; the many who had fled thither for
shelter from the sorrows of life; the ambitious, with blithed hopes and
a broken spirit, the gay with the experience of the wise man that all
under the sun was vanity; the forlorn, whom the world had abandoned,
and left to drift upon the rocks; the disappointed, whose course of
true love might not have run smooth; these, and a thousand other
malignant influences, contributed their victims to those “populous
solitudes;” persons having now no other desire than to pass the time
of their sojourning here in piety, in privacy, and in peace. This is
a class to which it is impossible to refuse our sympathy, and whom it
would be ungenerous and unjust to confound with the swarm of lazy,
sensual, unlettered drones among whom it was their unhappy lot to
live, and whom the shock of the Reformation dispersed. Exemption from
episcopal visitation, and consequently from any inspection whatever,
was the beginning of the evil. This privilege of the monasteries proved
their poison: it was a short-sighted policy of the pope to hide them
from the eye of the secular clergy, whose jealousy would have acted as
a wholesome stimulant to the detection and correction of abuses. But
the seculars he systematically slighted, and his iniquity eventually
found him out. Then, again, came upon them an evil spirit which led
them to grasp at the possession of all the benefices in the country.
This was another effort to depress the working clergy, which the pope
encouraged, but which, like the former, was, in the end, most injurious
to his own authority, by bringing the clergy into contempt, and opening
the eyes of the people, to the covetousness of the monks. The system
of _impropriations_, which began with William the Conqueror, grew so
rapidly that, in the course of three centuries, more than a third part
of the benefices in England became such,[109] and those the richest,
for the whiter the cow the surer was it to go to the altar, and by the
time of the Reformation, there was added another third.[110] An attempt
was made by the legislature to stay the evil, and the statute of
mortmain was passed in the reign of Edward I., whereby it was enacted,
that “no person, religious or other, should presume to buy or sell, or
under any colour of donation, lease, or other title, to receive any
lands or tenements, or by any act of invention to appropriate them,
under pain of forfeiture of them.”[111] But the statute was evaded
by royal dispensations, and the mischief grew. Even the pope himself
took alarm (_pavet ipse sacerdos_); and Alexander, at the end of the
twelfth century, writes to the Bishop of Worcester to admit no man to
a vicarage on presentation of the monks, till they had assigned him,
on the instant, such a portion of income as would suffice for the
episcopal dues, and for the competent maintenance of the minister;[112]
but this decree they set at naught by not presenting at all, either
serving the churches by stipendiary curates, or (which was the readier
way) leaving them altogether unserved.[113] By-and-by the example of
the monasteries was followed by the chantries, colleges, hospitals,
and nunneries; these, in their turn, learned the art of procuring
impropriations;[114] nay, even corporations, transforming themselves,
by a legal fiction, into religious societies, did the same; for before
King Henry VIII. there seems to have been no precedent in England for
a mere layman to be an impropriator.[115] The monks, however, had
peculiar facilities for the accumulation of livings. Their influence
with some neighbouring lord of a manor would often win him to make
over the church on his estate, and the tithes with which it might be
endowed, to their own abbey; they, meanwhile, undertaking to provide
for the fulfilment of the ecclesiastical duties belonging to it. Then,
again, if they could not beg they could buy, often the parish itself,
as well as the benefice; or where the purchase was more circumscribed,
the pope, ever their friend, would sometimes grant them the privilege
of non-payment of tithes to the extent of such estate, to the great
injury of the clergymen, when it happened to be considerable. Thus
rectories were reduced to vicarages; the greater tithes going to the
abbey fund, the small tithes left as a miserable stipend (often not
more than a sixteenth part of the revenue of the benefice[116]) to
the minister, who took the monks’ labouring oar under the title of
_vicarius_. Thus originated that divorce between the property of the
parish church and the minister of it, which continues in most instances
of vicarages to this day; and thus it came to pass that town livings
(contrary to all reason) are at present of all others, the poorest,
less than the usual pittance of endowment having been left to them by
the considerate monks, who reckoned, and perhaps rightly reckoned, in
the days when masses were said, that a large population would supply
by fees alone an adequate provision for the vicar. Meanwhile, the
people were disgusted with this gross and cruel invasion of the rights
of their pastors; and the representatives of the monasteries read
themselves in amidst reproaches loud and deep, of the bystanders.[117]
But they were not thin-skinned. They prepared, however, a sop for
Cerberus, by exacting with little rigour the small tithes, or, in
some cases, by accepting an easy composition instead of them; hoping,
by such _modus_ (_decimandi_) to purchase the more cheerful and
prompt payment of the great tithes, which was their affair; and not
at all uneasy because the propitiation happened to be made at the
vicar’s expense.[118] Their only remaining concern was to find some
“Sir Johns” (as the poor clergy were called before the Reformation,)
sometimes with an honourable adjunct of “lack Latin,”[119] or
“mumble-matins[120],” or “babbling Sir Johns,”[121] or “blind Sir
Johns,”[122] as it might be, who were just qualified according to the
letter of the law, to stand in the gap; mass-priests, who could read
their breviaries, and no more--for in those days men seem to have
received ordination without any adequate examination either as to
learning or character[123]--persons of the lowest of the people, with
all the gross habits of the class from which they sprung; loiterers
on the alehouse bench;[124] dicers, scarce able to say by rote their
Pater-noster, often actually unable to repeat the commandments;[125]
divines every way fitted to provoke the 75th canon, which was no
doubt, in the first instance levelled against them.[126] Such were the
ministers to whom was consigned a very large proportion of the parishes
of England before the Reformation; with what effect, the ignorance,
the superstition, the vices which then spread themselves over the
whole country, sufficiently testify. A feature or two of the times,
such as have been preserved to us, are here offered to the reader,
not, to be sure, always drawn by a very friendly hand, but still, in
all probability, tolerably faithful. The prayers of the church, being
in Latin, tended little or nothing to edification. Preaching there
was scarce any. Quarterly sermons appear to have been prescribed
to the clergy, but not to have been insisted upon; for though mass
was on no account left unsaid for a single Sunday, sermons might be
omitted for twenty Sundays together, and nobody be blamed.[127]
The unpreaching prelate is honest Latimer’s by-word. Indeed, as the
Reformation approached, as the stirring of the foundations began to
make itself felt; to be a preacher was to be suspected of being a
heretic.[128] The friars, to be sure, were not dumb dogs, but they
barked to little purpose, in a manner to prove rather that they were
hungry than watchful; their discourses having for their object rather
to fill their own wallets than satisfy their hearer’s wants, and if
not occupied with uncharitable invectives against other ecclesiastics,
a tissue of fables and old wives’ tales.[129] Catechising, in the
protestant sense of the term, was unknown or unpractised. When, indeed,
it was perceived how powerful a weapon it was in the hands of the
Reformers, steps were taken at the council of Trent for putting forth
what was called a catechism. But the Trent catechism was composed
avowedly for the instruction of the parish priests, not for the use
of children, to whom it was not at all adapted; and, after all, the
gross ignorance of the former must have made it a dead letter to most
of them; utterly unintelligible so long as it remained in the learned
language in which it was written, and if translated, (as it was, into
Italian, French, German and Polish, whether into English we know not,)
still containing too much special pleading, too obvious an anxiety
for secular interests, too manifest an apprehension that the “craft
was in danger,” too much doubtful or ridiculous theology, to stand
against the strong blows of the men of the new learning. The Church
Catechism, on the other hand, writ in our own mother tongue, brief,
and, on the whole, of admirable simplicity; a manual which, elementary
as it may be thought, no competent judge can examine without seeing
that its authors must have been men mighty in those Scriptures,
whereof, indeed, it is the essence, most patiently investigated, and
most skilfully and scrupulously expressed; this wrought so effectually,
that “now” (says an authority of the second year of Elizabeth, quoted
by Strype) “a young child of ten years old can tell more of his duty
towards God and man than a man of their bringing up can do in sixty
or eighty years.”[130] Nay, of the Scriptures even the more learned
clergy knew very little, the universities being taken up with popes’
laws and schoolmen. Indeed, it was difficult to meet with a copy of
the Bible, or of any other profitable book of divinity in these seats
of learning, so successfully had the friars bought them all up; and
students, we are told, in the reign of Edward III. actually withdrew
from them in consequence, and returned to their own homes;[131] nor
does the study of the Scriptures appear to have had a chance against
Scotus and Aquinas till Dean Colet established it at Oxford; and,
about the same time, George Stafford, at Cambridge, by lectures on
the books of Holy Writ.[132] The people at large, if possible, fared
worse. They were debarred from all knowledge of their Bibles, either
by the language in which they were written (for copies of Wickliffe’s
translation were scarce), or, if not, by the price at which they were
sold; the cost of Wickliffe’s New Testament, in the beginning of the
fifteenth century, being four marks and forty pence, a sum equal to
2_l._ 16_s._ 3_d._ of present money.[133] Thus the multitude knew
just so much of Scripture history, as the miracle plays taught them,
and little more. To these burlesque and indecent caricatures of Holy
Writ (though it is fair to say not so intended) the idle and the
dissipated were the first to resort, as to fairs and revels, with
which festivities, indeed, they ranked, so that, had they been better
worth attention, it is probable that an attendance upon them would
not have conduced much to edification. The Sabbath was rather a day
of sports and pastimes than of devotion and instruction; of dancing,
shooting with the bow, and practising with the buckler;[134] nor were
these, it may be well imagined, the most culpable of its occupations.
The churches were profaned. In the top of one of the pinnacles of
St. Paul’s in London was Lollard’s tower, the prison, and often the
grave of the saints. In the _arches_ of the same cathedral were the
ecclesiastical courts, of which the balance was not always the balance
of the sanctuary, though in the sanctuary it was held. In the spacious
_nave_ was the exchange for the merchants (for Sir Thomas Gresham
had not yet lived to remove the reproach), and the scene of all the
brawlings of the horse-fair.[135] Payments of money were made at the
_font_; and the _crypt_, or underground chapel, in which the early
mass was said, was the trysting-place of the nightly revellers of
either sex.[136] Nor were such abuses as these confined to London.
The house of God, as it should seem from the homily “On the right Use
of the Church,” was too generally the place of rendezvous for such as
loved greetings in the market place, had tales to tell, or business to
transact; and the devotions of the day were suffered to drag on like
Pharaoh’s chariots with the wheels off, whilst many of the congregation
were more profitably employed (as they thought) in the discussion of
farm or merchandize, as they paced to and fro along its aisles. It is
to these and similar acts of irreverence that the canons have respect
in the directions they give to churchwardens and questmen--directions
which a change in the manners of the times has rendered obsolete and
almost unintelligible;[137] and it may be reasonably supposed, that in
the ordering of our church ceremonies, and in the composition of our
church service itself, the principle of fully and fervently occupying
all who were within the walls in their devotions was studiously kept
in sight by the reformers; and that the sacrifice of prayer and praise
should no longer be considered the exclusive office of the priest,
as it had been too much in papal times, the people looking on, but
that every member should be called upon at intervals, and those of
short and frequent recurrence, the whole service through, to testify,
by lifting up his voice in confession or response, that he, too,
had a lively interest in the common work before them, of besetting
God, as it were, in a round (so the quaint old Fuller expresses it),
and not suffering him to depart till he had blessed them--“_hæc vis
grata Deo_.” The saints’ days and holidays, again, were numerous,
even to the hinderance of a harvest, and to the certain and perpetual
encouragement of riot and revelry throughout the country.[138] Taverns
and alehouses, little better than brothels, with their dishonest games
of cards, dice, backgammon, tennis, foot-ball, quoits, drained the
pockets of their votaries, and sent them to rob on the highway. So says
Sir Thomas More, who might, perhaps, have excepted the more athletic
sports here enumerated from his anathema, and thereby have rendered it
more effective.[139] The due punishment of the culprits was rendered
difficult by the places of refuge afforded them in the precincts of
religious houses, which were the thieves’ paradise;[140] and though
felons of all kinds could here claim sanctuary, even for life, so that
they would actually sally forth by night to rob or slay, and return
before day-break to their asylum within the rules with impunity, yet to
the poor persecuted Lollard was the gate of mercy closed, and he might
be legally pursued even unto the horns of the altar.[141] The friar,
meanwhile, went on with his mumpsimus. His most constant hearers (so
profitable was his teaching) were at a loss to distinguish between the
deadly sins and the ten commandments;[142] of which latter, indeed,
as of the articles of the belief in English, the people were entirely
ignorant, being wholly given to superstitions.[143] They hastened to
the churches for holy water, of which the devil was said to be afraid,
before a thunder-storm;[144] fled to St. Rooke in time of pestilence;
in an ague, to St. Pernel, or master John Shorne; being Welshmen, and
disposed to take a purse, they besought the help of Darvel Gathorne;
if a wife were weary of her husband, she betook herself to St.
Uncumber,[145] they repaired to the wise woman to recover what they had
lost, or to be recruited from a sickness; and addicted themselves with
all their might to magic, sorcery, charms, and the black art.[146] The
grossest pretensions which indulgences could advance were swallowed;
and not strained at. Relics, carrying imposture on their very face,
(“lies,” in the language of Scripture,) were kissed with pious
credulity. Pilgrimages were undertaken in the spirit of the company
in the Canterbury Tales, or of Ogygius in his journey to our lady of
Walsingham;[147] and yet were reckoned acts that would be accounted to
the parties for righteousness: and, whilst no man brought his gift to
the altar of his Saviour in Canterbury cathedral throughout a whole
year, offerings were made at the shrine of St. Thomas à Becket in the
same place, and during the same period, to the amount of nearly a
thousand pounds.

No wonder that in these ages of darkness doctrines not found in the
word of God, but of which we have seen that the germ existed even in
the Saxon church, should have shot up with vigour like the gourd of
Jonah in the night; or that, in the absence of Scripture to speak for
itself, the religion of Rome (as Latimer observes) should have passed
for it.[148]




                              CHAPTER V.

          EARLY REFORMERS.--WALDENSES.--WICKLIFFE.--LOLLARDS.


Meanwhile a little leaven was at work, which served still to keep a
better faith alive; a little salt of the earth which prevented the
great carcase of human nature from offending the nostrils of its
Creator. The Almighty has been ever wont to make such provision for the
continuance of sound doctrine. Whilst all flesh was corrupting its way,
still a household or two were left to keep his name from perishing,
and to rally the true religion again--an Enos, an Enoch, or a Noah.
When idolatry had once more spread itself over the world, almost to the
extinction of the knowledge of the Most High, a few chosen vessels were
left to the preservation of it still--an Abraham, a Lot, a Melchizedec,
a Job. Generations rolled on, and God thought fit to act on a greater
scale, but still on the same principle; and the Israelites were
separated from mankind as a peculiar people, as the depositaries of the
creed of man; and their fortunes were so shaped as to occasion their
dispersion amongst the Gentiles, with the Bible in their hearts, and
hands; and thus were they made the channels through which the will and
works of God were communicated to those who would otherwise have sat
in darkness; and to this origin, perhaps, rather than to be unassisted
efforts of natural reason, is to be referred the more sublime part of
the philosophy of the heathens.[149]

So it was, in a degree, during the times of papal ignorance; for
though to the question, which the Romanists taught every priest that
could scarce read his breviary to ask, “Where was the religion of
protestants before Luther?” it was sufficient to say, as it was said,
“In the Bible;” still even in the darkest times, it had many faithful
witnesses to produce besides, and both in individuals and in whole
congregations might even then be read the eloquent chapters of the good
man’s life. Thus, whilst the pope was grasping at universal power,
and the monks were busy in seconding his efforts, and councils were
giving authority to abuses both doctrinal and practical, on which his
usurpation was grafting itself, and wars were waged between the several
ecclesiastical orders, to the ruin of that which is the keystone of
the gospel, _charity_, and ignorance was becoming more dense, and
manners more profligate, there was abiding amongst the recesses of
the Alps a race of hardy mountaineers, who held (as they still hold
after ages of poverty and oppression) the essential articles of the
reformed faith, and to whom it had been apparently derived from the
apostles themselves:--Vaudois, Valenses, or Waldenses, was the name
of this primitive people, dwelling as they did in the _valleys_
of the Cottian Alps--a name which, though at first like that of
Albigenses and Romanists, having a reference to the local habitation
of the persons who bore it, eventually embraced a large and widely
scattered sect which professed certain religious opinions, and on more
occasions than one sealed them with their blood. For that they took
their title or origin from Peter Waldo, the heretic of Lyons, as the
catholics pretend, is not to be admitted. He was excommunicated by the
archbishop of that place, in 1172, and is not mentioned before the year
1160, whereas there is evidence that the Vaudois existed as a distinct
society at least half a century earlier; and it is probable that the
_Subalpini_, and _Paterines_, a more ancient name still, men
who worshipped the God of their fathers after a manner which the church
of Rome called heresy, were but the same Waldenses, under a prior
designation. Certain it is, that no shadow of proof exists of Peter
Waldo having ever set foot in Piedmont, and a substantial difference
may be descried between his followers and the church of the Alps, that
whilst the former assumed the functions of the clerical office without
hesitation, the latter constantly and scrupulously insisted upon a
regular call to the priesthood, and imposition of hands.[150] Indeed,
the episcopal form of church government was faithfully preserved
among them, till poverty, aggravated by a dreadful pestilence in the
early part of the seventeenth century, threw them for resources upon
Switzerland, which very naturally sent them, together with clerical
recruits, (for only two out of the thirteen barbes or pastors had
been left alive,) her liturgy, her presbyterian constitution, and
her cold and unattractive ritual.[151] Among many of their tenets to
which their enemies bear witness, we find that they gave no credit
to modern miracles, rejected extreme unction, held offering for the
dead as nothing worth except to the priest, neglected the festivals,
denied the doctrines of transubstantiation, purgatory, and invocation
of saints, and held the church of Rome (not an uncommon opinion in
the thirteenth century[152]) to be the woman in scarlet of the
Revelations. From La Nobla Leçon, a certain poem of their own, of
unsuspected authority and very ancient date, for it was written about
the year 1100, we may further gather in addition to the particulars
already given, that the commandments were taught by them; not excepting
that against idols, and the worship of the Trinity, though without a
word in favour of the Virgin. Slanderous tongues would indeed “have
done them to death;”--things which they knew not were wantonly and
wickedly laid to their charge; many, of the same kind, urged in the
same spirit, and with the same regard to consistency, as the charges
objected to the first Christians by the heathens of old time. They were
dissolute libertines, and they were ascetic precisians; they used the
Lord’s Prayer only, and yet they prayed at greater or less length seven
times a day; they permitted laymen to consecrate the elements, and yet
they had priests, and, as some said, three orders of priests; they
allowed the former also to receive confessions, yet they rejected the
confessional; they would have ecclesiastics supported by alms, and they
denounced the mendicant orders as Satan’s own invention;--_non hæc
satis inter se conveniunt_. Archbishop Usher has been at the pains
to collect and compare the manifold accusations cast in their teeth
and makes it manifest that “the testimony agreeth not together.”[153]
Here, however, were many of the principal tenets of the reformed faith,
long before the time of Luther:--in the fastnesses of these mountains
(to use the language of bishop Jewel) were they found, even as it was
in such places, that the older prophets prophesied from the Spirit
of God. The Vaudois extended themselves. They sent forth a colony to
Calabria which was basely and barbarously put to the sword, when the
signs of the times foreboded a reformation in Italy; and struck the
pope with “fear of change.” A settlement so distant could not affect
England, or if so, very indirectly. But another division of the same
people migrated to Bohemia; and the intercourse between England and
that country in the time of Wickliffe was considerable. Natives of
Bohemia were then students at Oxford;[154] and Richard II. chose a
Bohemian princess for his queen. The partiality which she herself (as
indeed her nation in general) manifested for the writings of our early
reformer is an indication of some sympathy between the parties. The
good seed must have fallen on ground prepared to receive it, or it
would not have shot up so vigorously; and it is probable that the early
heresy of Bohemia might help to raise up a Wickliffe for England, as he
paid the debt back by giving to Bohemia a Huss and a Jerome. Certain
it is, that catholic writers of the greatest authority, in treating
of the doctrines of Wickliffe, have considered him as adopting those
of the Waldenses, by whatever means he had become acquainted with
them; and the Vaudois to this day claim a fraternal feeling as due
to themselves from England, on the same ground.[155] Mr. Wordsworth,
whose “Ecclesiastical Sketches” are in general scarcely more remarkable
for their poetry than for their historical accuracy, points at this
connection in his Sonnet on the Waldenses:--

    These who gave the earliest notice, as the lark
    Springs from the ground the morn to gratulate:
    Who rather rose the day to antedate,
    By striking out a solitary spark,
    When all the world with midnight gloom was dark.
    These harbingers of good, whom bitter hate
    In vain endeavoured to exterminate,
    Fell obloquy pursues with hideous bark;
    But they desist not; and the sacred fire,
    Rekindled thus, from dens and savage woods
    Moves, handed on with never-ceasing care,
    Through courts, through camps, o’er limitary floods;
    Nor lacks this sea-girt isle a timely share
    Of the new flame, not suffered to expire.”

Some, again, of the same persecuted race repaired to Provence and
Languedoc, where they were known by the name of Albigenses, or heretics
of Albi (perhaps the parent stock of the present protestants in the
south of France); and on being driven thence, as they were driven
thither by the inquisition and the sword, sought shelter in the
neighbouring district of Guienne, then in possession of the English,
and thus possibly found a way for themselves or their tenets, or both,
into Britain by another channel. But, in truth, such opinions as those
entertained by the Waldenses, the Albigenses, the Bohemians, and the
Lollards (for by this latter name the disciples of Wickliffe were
distinguished--a name probably given to them as being _tares_,
_lolium_, amongst the wheat,) had quietly diffused themselves over
a great part of Christendom, in spite of the unrighteous pains taken by
the church of Rome to put down all overt expression of them. Springing
up in various and distant spots of Europe, they gradually became (so to
speak) confluent. Nor is it impossible to trace the means by which this
might be effected. The intercourse of mankind was considerable in those
days; greater, perhaps, than we are apt to imagine, in this age of
stage-coaches, canals, railroads, and steam-boats. Pilgrimages promoted
travelling to an extent now almost incredible;--every country took care
to be provided with some bait or other for the holy palmer, and the
more distant the journey the more meritorious the service. Vessels were
regularly freighted with pilgrims. Licenses were granted by King Henry
VI. in one year for the exportation of 2433 pilgrims to St. James of
Compostella.[156] The wife of Bath

    “Thries had been at Jerusaleme,
    She hadde passed many a strange streme,
    At Rome she hadde ben, and at Boloine,
    At Galice, at Saint James, and at Coloine.”

Rome indeed, the heart as it were of Christendom, was perpetually
receiving and expelling a current of idle or devout dwellers in
every region under heaven, and was thus circulating, intelligence of
all kinds through all lands. The _home_ circuit was still more
trodden; 100,000 pilgrims, we are told, visited St. Thomas à Becket
in a single year.[157] Commerce was then comparatively little, but
it was carried on in a manner to secure much personal communication.
Fairs, which continued a fortnight or three weeks, and whilst they
continued, transformed a desolate heath perhaps, into a temporary city,
with streets and shops, and houses, and “all appliances to boot,”
destined to disappear once more when the mart was over, like a vision
of fairy land, drew together from all quarters merchants, both native
and foreign. Universities were not places of resort for the youth
of the mother-country only, but were filled with students of divers
nations; for, Latin being the conventional language of them all, no
man, from whatever country, was excluded by the want of the vernacular
tongue.[158] The same circumstance afforded to professors a facility
of migrating from one university to another, as occasions might present
themselves, without the tax of learning a new vocabulary. Minstrels
were ever upon the stroll from abbey to abbey,--the welcome carriers
of news to the secluded but inquisitive monks; and freemasons, a kind
of nomad race, pitched their tents wherever they found occupation,
and having reared the cathedral or the church with admirable art,
journeyed on in search of other employers. Finally, the Italians
and other aliens, who by favour of the pope were put in possession
of church livings in every country to which his authority extended,
furnished another channel of international communication. In the reign
of Henry III., the annual value of the benefices so disposed of in
England was 70,000 marks, a sum more than triple the whole revenue
of the crown.[159] These were some of the many ways in which the
intercourse of mankind was maintained in those primitive times, and
the circulation of any popular doctrine effectually secured, whatever
obstacles might be opposed to it. Thus it was that the principles of
the Reformation were slowly and silently making their way through
Europe, when perhaps their progress was little suspected; and one of
those under currents was setting in which are not in the end less
powerful because they happen for a season to be unobserved. It is
singular, that when Dante conducts his hero to that quarter of the
infernal regions where the heretics are paying the penalty of their
sin, being condemned to stand upon their heads in jars of fire, he
adds a remark indicative of the temper of the times, and much to our
present purpose, that these fiery sepulchres were filled with victims
to a number far beyond all expectation.[160] Wickliffe, we know, found
himself very quickly at the head of a numerous and powerful body in
England, simply because he furnished a mouth-piece to those who had
not as yet mustered courage to speak out for themselves, so mistaken is
the conclusion of the Roman catholic, that the unity of his church is
to be inferred from its silence. A third part of the clergy, Wickliffe
himself tells us, thought with him on the sacrament of the Lord’s
supper, and “would defend that doctrine on payne of theyr lyfe;” and
Knighton, a contemporary writer, affirms, that you could not meet two
people in the way but one of them was a disciple of Wickliffe.[161]
Moreover, when he was cited before the bishops at Lambeth, it was not
merely the influence of the Duke of Lancaster that protected him, as
a useful partisan, but the multitude clamoured for his release, as a
teacher of the truth; or “his person was saved out of the hands of his
enemies,” (so says Fuller in his own inimitable manner) “as was once
the doctrine of his godly namesake; they feared the people; ‘for all
men counted _John_ that he was a prophet indeed.’”[162] The moment
was peculiarly propitious to the extension of Wickliffe’s opinions.
The schism in the papacy occurred a few years before his death; and
the spectacle of two infallible heads of the church anathematising
one another, could not fail to open the eyes of Christendom to the
unwarranted pretensions of both. To this circumstance, probably,
Wickliffe was indebted for permission to end his turbulent life in
peace, in his own parish, and in his own bed; since the disposition
of Rome towards this arch-heretic was sufficiently testified, when,
forty-one years afterwards, the council of Constance, in impotent rage,
condemned his bones to be exhumed, burned, and cast into the brook. But
the Swift (such is its name) bore them to the Avon, that to the Severn,
the Severn to the sea, to be dispersed unto all lands; which things are
an allegory.

Of this great reformer himself, who so raised the waters not of this
country only, but of Europe at large, that Luther came in with the next
wave, it is difficult to speak. A most effectual weapon he undoubtedly
was for the pulling down of strong holds; but we may admire the wisdom
of God in adjusting his instruments to the work which he has for them
to do, when he raised up first a Wickliffe, and afterwards a Cranmer.
Had they changed places, Cranmer’s meek and gentle spirit would have
been overborne by the almost irresistible torrent of corruption of
the times of Edward; and, on the other hand, Wickliffe’s daring and
impetuous temper, and his hasty views of ecclesiastical polity, would
have urged him to go all lengths with Henry--and whilst he would have
demolished a church of Rome, he would have left few or no materials
for erecting a church of England. Cranmer and his colleagues have
been pronounced by our great puritan poet, “time serving and halting
prelates;” happily, in one sense, they were so. Wickliffe would have
been a man more after Milton’s heart; but “the wisdom which is from
above,” we read, “is gentle:” and if there be one thing more than
another that fixes the attention of sober-minded and considerate men
when contemplating the progress of the Reformation, it is the calmness,
the temper, the prudence, the presence of mind, with which Cranmer
endeavoured to direct (like a good and guardian angel) the tempest
on which he rode; and whilst he felt how much the fierce element was
imperatively commissioned to destroy, he never for a moment forgot the
still nobler part, how much it was permitted to spare: he steered the
ark of his church with wonderful dexterity through a sea of troubles,
avoiding the scattered Cyclades, when it is probable that, had his
great predecessor been the pilot, he would have run it aground, and
left it a wreck. Wickliffe, as a sincere believer, was naturally
vexed at the scandals by which he saw Christ’s religion brought into
contempt; as a secular churchman and a champion of the seculars, he
hated the friars with a cordial hatred, and took pleasure in exposing
their covetousness and frauds; as an academician, he could not tolerate
their encroachments on the rights and privileges of the universities,
and their surreptitious abduction of four fifths of the students;[163]
as a man of learning, the first of his day, he would give no quarter
to monastic ignorance; as a subject of the King of England, he would
not allow of a divided allegiance in a church of England: but whilst
he stood up the advocate of these principles, the impetuosity of his
temper drove him on to extravagant lengths, and now exhibits him
not so much in the light of a religious reformer as of a religious
revolutionist. Perhaps he blinded himself to the necessary consequences
of many of his own opinions, and, like Wesley, was carried further,
both in himself and in his followers, than he at first meant to go:
but assuredly in him, and still more in his school, may be traced the
elements of a character destined afterwards to attain to an unequivocal
eminence in our history, that of the puritan, and the various sects
which, though not fully fledged till the civil wars, were tumbled
forth like bats out of their hiding places at the first shock of the
Reformation, owed their origin perhaps to this vigorous, sincere, but
incautious antagonist of the church of Rome. When we see him opposing
the doctrine of transubstantiation, that fruitful mother of mischief,
howbeit wavering as it should seem, in his own mind between what was
afterwards the “real presence” of Luther and the “spiritual presence”
of Zuingle; denying the superiority of the church of Rome over other
churches, and the power of the keys as pertaining to the pope rather
than to any other priest, when we see him maintaining that the Gospel
is alone, and of itself, a sufficient rule of faith and practice, and
that all have a right to read it for themselves; that pilgrimages
and indulgences are vain and unprofitable, the worship of saints
unauthorised, and forced vows of celibacy unlawful; above all, when we
find him proclaiming (though here he does not speak with the emphasis
of Luther, who made this article the test of a standing or falling
church,) that justification comes by faith in Christ alone;[164] we
praise the man, for we find him labouring strictly in his vocation,
purifying the Word of God from traditions and additions which had made
it of none effect, and disabusing the people of dangerous and deadly
errors. Nay, more, he might have gone further if he pleased; and
however inexpedient it might be to enlarge upon the doctrine of Divine
decrees--and of its inexpediency, we have an opinion--still there
would have been no indication in this of his weapons being carnal,
of his treasure (and great that treasure was) being contained in an
_earthen_ vessel; but rather an argument that he felt strongly
the error of the church of Rome in attributing so much to man’s own
powers, and that, impelled by such a feeling, he rushed into the
opposite extreme, and refused to him such powers as were his due. But
when he argues that the wickedness of the priest vitiates the acts
of his ministry,[165] in contradiction, to the inference which may
be fairly drawn from the text, where the people are declared to have
“transgressed” because they despised the offering of the Lord, though
the wickedness of Eli’s sons was the excuse,[166] and in contradiction
to the express command of our Lord, that whatsoever the Scribes and
Pharisees who sat in Moses’ seat bid men observe, they were to observe
and do, though they were not to do after their works;[167] when he
maintains tithes to be mere alms, and affirms that parishioners have
a right to withhold them in case the minister provokes them so to
do, of which they are to be themselves the judges;[168] and when he
teaches, in the same spirit, that church endowments in perpetuity
may be resumed under similar circumstances by the patron or the
king,[169] thereby subverting the very principles upon which not
only ecclesiastical property rests, but all property whatever, and
annihilating an establishment at a blow; when his immediate disciples,
such as William Thorpe and Lord Cobham, are found erecting themselves
into inquisitors of the morals of the superior clergy, and denying
them to be priests of God, whether archbishops or bishops, if their
character, conversation, and conduct did not answer to a test of their
own;[170] these dogmas when we read, it is difficult to separate the
conscientious reformer from the exasperated antagonist, or to refrain
exclaiming with St. Paul, “Are ye not carnal, and walk as men?” It may
not be fair to impute to Wickliffe himself all the extravagances of his
followers, yet they are very natural consequences of the principles
he adopted and taught; in many cases they must have seen the light
in Wickliffe’s own time; some of them undoubtedly attach to himself;
and they are all, at any rate, remarkable as the first fruits of
those opinions and practices which, when coupled with politics, some
two centuries and a half later, overturned both altar and throne. We
find the Lollard taking upon himself to pronounce on the call of his
ecclesiastical ruler, and yielding or refusing him canonical obedience
after a verdict of his own:[171] we find him traversing the country
from town to town, preaching in churches and churchyards, in fairs and
markets, by a self-constituted authority, without license had from the
bishop, or regard paid to his inhibition or summons:[172] we find him
stumbling at pontifical habits, and for himself going about in his blue
or russet gown, and barefoot;[173] we find him strongly prejudiced
against the use of church music and organs (which was evidently the
feeling of Wickliffe himself),[174] and quoting Scripture in support
of his prejudice in the very spirit of the days of Cromwell, as though
Christ would not raise the damsel to life until he had first put forth
the _minstrels_:[175] we find him holding up to the clergy the
duty of copying St. Paul to the letter, and of labouring like him
with their own hands for their own maintenance;[176] and we find him
(a circumstance which is here mentioned not as a matter of charge,
but as a matter of fact, illustrating his resemblance to the puritan)
dealing in a phraseology of his own, expressive of the sect to which
he belonged, and less loose and secular than was usual.[177] It was
natural that a party now becoming numerous, having religion for their
common bond (the strongest of all), and holding some tenets not
altogether favourable to a monarchical government and an episcopal
church, should be regarded with some suspicion. The sheriff’s oath,
as it was framed by statutes of Richard II. and Henry IV., required
of that officer to watch the Lollards; and the clause to this effect
continued in force till the time of Charles I., when Sir Edward Coke,
on being made sheriff of the county of Buckingham, objected to it, and
it was in consequence withdrawn.[178] Mr. Hume, who is less sceptical
in weighing the value of evidence when it tends to cast imputations on
religious professors than on some other occasions, boldly pronounces
Lord Cobham to have been guilty of high treason, (in spite of Fox’s
express testimony to the contrary,) and the sect in general to have
had treasonable designs;[179] but St. Paul himself was called a “mover
of sedition,” though he actually preached that to “resist the power”
was to “resist the ordinance of God.” The executions of the Lollards,
which took place between Wickliffe’s death and the Reformation, appear
to have been in reality on the charge of heresy, not of disaffection;
though it is true that the latter accusation was put forward in one or
two instances, as being the more popular charge, just as our Lord was
accused of making himself a king, when a Roman tribunal could otherwise
have seen no fault in him. Besides, the manner in which sentence was
carried into effect--which was in all cases, we believe, by fire, the
appropriate punishment of heresy--confirms this opinion. Still some of
the principles of the Lollard were, doubtless, of a dangerous political
character; in his hands they appear to have lain dormant; but when he
lapsed into the puritan, the politician was combined in him, and then
they became active and mischievous. If he ran into extremes, he had
some cause and excuse for so doing; he, at least was not straining at
gnats, but at camels. An unmitigated creed drove him into an unmeasured
abomination of it; the personal corruption of the Roman catholic priest
of those times, tempted him to question his official authority; his
abuse of what was lawfully his own, to dispute his abstract right of
it: but though in all this he might be mistaken, he was not mercenary;
and whatever his opinions were, however untenable, he was true to them
in life and in death, forfeiting for the sake of them his property,
his liberty, and his peace, and often in the end sealing them with his
blood. But, after all, the great glory of the Lollard was this, that
he gave to the people the pure word of God. The work whereby Wickliffe
hastened the Reformation, was his translation of the Scriptures into
his own mother-tongue. Apart from this, his labours, as valuable as
they were, might not be thought of unmixed value. Herein he had the
sure promise of God pledged to his success. “For as the rain cometh
down and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth
the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed
to the sower and bread to the eater; so shall my word be, saith the
Lord, that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto
me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall
prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.”[180] Void it did not return.
Hitherto the Scriptures were little known. Cædmon, it is true, had
paraphrased in verse detached portions of them in the seventh century.
Bede, it has been before observed, had translated the Gospel of St.
John. Translations of all the Gospels into Anglo-Saxon had been made
between the reigns of Alfred and Harold. Elfric produced versions of
many books of the Old Testament, as well as of the New; but, meanwhile
the invasion of the Danes threw the kingdom into a frightful state
of anarchy, and long kept it so disturbed. Then the Norman conquest
succeeding again broke its spirit and changed its language; so that
the word of God had become precious in the days of Wickliffe. The
Anglo-Saxon which still continued to be the staple of the dialect of
England, was by this time saturated with Norman words (no great number
having been adopted into it since; and whilst Chaucer was labouring to
_fix_ the English tongue (its _winged_ words) on principles
of taste, amongst the courtiers and nobles, Wickliffe, perhaps even
a more perfect master of it still, was establishing it yet more
permanently, by knitting up in it the immortal hopes of the people at
large, and stamping it in a complete translation of the Bible, with
“holiness to the Lord.” At this day his version can scarcely be called
obsolete. I speak of the New Testament, for the Old has never yet been
printed; a reproach both upon the divines and the philologists of
England, which, we trust, will speedily be removed. At this day, it
might be read in our churches without the necessity of many even verbal
alterations; and on comparing it with the authorised version of King
James, it will be found that the latter was hammered on Wickliffe’s
anvil. By this great and good work the pleasure of the Most High
prospered in his hand. An eager appetite for Scriptural knowledge was
excited among the people, which they would make any sacrifice and risk
any danger to gratify. Entire copies of the Bible, when they could only
be multiplied by means of amanuenses, were too costly to be within the
reach of very many readers; but those who could not procure the “volume
of the Book,” would give a load of hay for a few favourite chapters,
and many such scraps were consumed upon the persons of the martyrs at
the stake.[181] They would hide the forbidden treasure under the floors
of their houses, and put their lives in peril, rather than forego the
book they desired; they would sit up all night, their doors being shut
for fear of surprise, reading or hearing others read the word of God;
they would bury themselves in the woods, and there converse with it in
solitude; they would tend their herds in the fields, and still steal
an hour for drinking in the good tidings of great joy:--thus was the
angel come down to trouble the water, and there was only wanted some
providential crisis to put the nation into it, that it might be made
whole.




                              CHAPTER VI.

          LUTHER.--ERASMUS.--SIR T. MORE.--NEW TRANSLATION OF
                      THE BIBLE.--DEMAND FOR IT.


Such was the condition of England in the fifteenth century: the minds
of men generally alienated from the church of Rome by reason of its
corruption; their religious knowledge improved, and improving daily, by
the wider diffusion of the Scriptures in the mother-tongue, to which
the art of printing now so effectually contributed; and a sect, neither
few in numbers, nor wanting in activity or courage, in the heart of the
kingdom, ready to profit by any occasion which might offer of opening
the eyes of their countrymen. Providence, having now sufficiently
prepared the world for the reception of such a character, raised up a
great reformer, whose labours, though immediately confined to Germany,
still made themselves felt throughout Europe, and more especially in
this island.

Martin Luther, the son of a working miner in Saxony, was born at
Isleben on the 10th of November, 1483, a day much to be remembered. He
was a man for the times; qualified by the force of his character for
giving them a wrench. In his early years he took on himself the vows of
an Augustin monk, and, to use his own words, was a “most mad Papist.”
Various circumstances concurred to disabuse him of his bigotry; they
have been severally advanced with more or less emphasis according to
the respective views of the writers who have treated this subject--the
secular historian tracing his conversion to secondary causes, the
devout, ascribing it wholly to the grace of God. Both may be right; it
was probably the effect of accident, of reflection, and of time, God
working by means of such instruments. At the age of three and twenty
the business of his monastery carried him to Rome. He saw there more
than was expedient. He was surprised to find, on near inspection, that
the image which he had been taught to believe fallen from Jupiter,
wore many appearances of having been made by the craftsman. He was too
sincere himself not to feel disgust at the symptoms of hollow faith
which forced themselves upon his notice in the capital of Christendom
and he returned to Saxony from his mission “with thoughts arising in
his heart.” He betook himself to the study of the Scriptures, with
Erasmus for his help; with whose system of interpretation, however, he
does not seem to have been entirely satisfied. He felt an increasing
dislike of the schoolmen and soon entertained a suspicion, which, by
degrees, ripened into a conviction, of the truth of that doctrine which
proved afterwards the burden of his preaching--justification by faith
in Christ only.[182] Tetzel, a Dominican monk, was commissioned by
the pope (Leo X.,) who wished to recruit his treasury, whether for
the supply of his extravagance, or the erection of his church, or the
prosecution of his war against the Turks, to put up his indulgences
for sale in Germany. Tetzel executed his trust with the most shameless
contempt of all decency. There was no sin, however monstrous (and some
he named,) which he had not both the will and the power to remit. It
was in vain for the German pastors to insist on penance; here was a
papal missionary at hand ready to absolve from all pains and penalties.
The indulgences were farmed; they were sold in the gross to the best
bidders, and were by them dispersed amongst the retail pedlars of
pardons, who resorted to the public houses, exhibited their wares, and
picked the pockets of the credulous. Extravagance like this called up
Luther, excited his honest indignation, and drove him to write. He had
no notion where this first step was to lead him. In the simplicity
of his heart he thought that the pope would be on his side, and
condemn such flagrant excesses in his emissaries. Leo was as little
aware as himself of the critical position of his affairs. “Brother
Martin,” quoth he, “is a man of very fine genius;” and he regarded
the whole matter as a battle of kites and crows. But Martin was in
earnest, whatever Leo might be. Still he had little idea how much he
would have to unlearn. He did not question, for instance, the pope’s
supremacy, till Eckius, one of his indiscreet antagonists, provoked
him to scrutinise the pretension, and then, like honest Latimer, he
found himself hard to be persuaded that our Saviour said--“Peter, I do
mean this by sitting in thy boat, that thou shalt go to Rome, and be
bishop there five and twenty years after mine ascension, and all thy
successors shall be rulers of the universal church after thee.”[183] On
he went, feeling his way and light continued to break upon him. Two
years later than the time when he wrote against indulgences (which was
in 1517) he tells Spalatinus, the secretary of the Elector of Saxony,
and his own confidential correspondent that he had no intention to
separate from the apostolic see.[184] He examines the decretals; and
then he whispers in his friend’s ear that he begins to suspect the pope
to be antichrist. He ponders somewhat longer, and he now acquaints
him that he has not much doubt of the fact;[185] and shortly after
this (in 1520) he publishes his “Tract against the Popedom,” in which
he draws the sword; and then his “Babylonish Captivity,” in which he
throws away the scabbard. Measures are no longer kept by either party.
On the 15th June, 1520, Leo issued his damnatory bull excommunicating
Luther, delivering him over to Satan, requiring the secular princes
to apprehend him, and condemning his books to be burned.[186] Luther,
nothing dismayed, on the 10th December of the same year returns
measure for measure, and raising a huge pile of wood without the walls
of Wittenberg, commits decretals, canon law, and bull to the flames
together.[187] Time was when this would have been frenzy; it was still
perilous; but public opinion, which the art of printing had called into
being, and which was now gathering strength, was with the reformer.
The anathema was torn in pieces at Erfurt, and was ill received every
where.[188] Politics again stood Luther’s friend. Frederick, the
elector of Saxony, his cautious but constant protector, had laid the
new emperor (Charles V.) under personal obligations, by declining the
imperial crown for himself and transferring his interest to him;--here
was a lion’s mouth stopped. Then Charles and Francis were rival
monarchs, and in the midst of their rivalry, the Lutheran heresy
(like the earthquake at Thrasymenæ, which rolled away unperceived
by the combatants) did not rivet their exclusive attention amidst
the intrigues of the cabinet, or the clashing of arms; and moreover
the Lutheran party might be useful to either to turn a balance.
Accordingly, Luther ventured to encounter the diet of Worms, and felt,
what he exclaimed to the vast multitude who hailed him as he stepped
out of his carriage, that “God was on his side.” He came out of that
trial unharmed, however the smell of fire might have passed on him, and
invested even with greater influence on public opinion than before. He
found it necessary to submit to a friendly imprisonment in the castle
of Wartburg, till the tyranny of the diet should be overpast; but he
availed himself of this unacceptable leisure for the manufacture of
his arms. On the one hand, he taught the people out of the Scriptures,
giving them an admirable translation, first of the New, and then of the
Old Testament, a translation which our own Cranmer kept ever by his
side;[189] he laboured with still greater care his Commentary on the
Epistle to the Galatians, a work containing wholesome doctrine and most
necessary for those times, when (as in the days of St. Paul) faith in
Christ was overlaid by ritual observances, and merit was pleaded where
mercy should have been craved. On the other hand, he did not scruple
to wield more ignoble implements of war; if the sword was not at hand,
he could smite with the ox-goad. Coarse and grotesque caricatures of
his opponents in a frontispiece, often recommended his works to his
plebeian readers; a cardinal decorated with a fox’s brush which he
trailed through the mire, and with which he bespattered his neighbours;
a pope seated astride upon a sow, or furnished with a pair of ass’s
ears, whilst a legion of imps, busy like the Rosicrucian gnomes, on
mischief, would be crowning him with a nauseous mitre, or lowering
him into an infernal abyss or preparing faggots for his burning.[190]
To these and the like weapons of warfare did this intrepid and
unceremonious assailant descend, partly excused by the grosser taste
of the times in which he lived, and partly by that disregard for petty
proprieties, which is felt in a degree by most men of masculine minds,
and which is felt by all men in moments of excitement and when the
cause which they have at heart is at stake. Melancthon it is true,
poured oil upon the waves, or, as Erasmus was pleased to express it
walked after Luther, as Lite after Ate;[191] still the whole surface
of society was troubled, and many who had once thought that a storm
might clear the air, now heard the sound as of abundance of rain,
with alarm, and girt up their mantles and ran before it. Erasmus,
no doubt, was in this respect a type of many: he was in theory (at
least in his earlier days) a reformer; he promoted the Reformation
very essentially, and in a great variety of ways. The perspicuity and
neatness of his style, the peculiar edge which he could put upon all
his thoughts, the playfulness of his fancy, the copiousness of his
knowledge, made him the most popular writer of the age. As a critic,
he caused Scripture to be better known to scholars, by publishing
the first printed edition of the Greek Testament: as a commentator
he caused it to be better understood; though by some fatality, as
Bishop Bull complains,[192] he is prone, like Grotius after him, to
give certain important texts an Arian bias; the effect perhaps of a
capricious temperament, since his writings in general furnish proof
enough of his Trinitarian orthodoxy. Certainly we ourselves owe him
a debt of gratitude for his paraphrase of the New Testament, a work
which Cranmer introduced into all the parish churches in England,
not indeed as faultless, but as the best he could find for that use,
and done by “the most indifferent writer;”[193] and mutilated and
moth-eaten copies of it are still occasionally to be seen chained to
their desks. In his colloquies, too, of which the influence must have
been very great, he lashes the abuses of the Roman Catholic church, and
the monks, and friars above all, as the authors and abettors of those
abuses, with a rod of nettles; and a system of things in which even
the most sober thinker would see much to ridicule, found in Erasmus an
assailant who could discover matter for merriment even in subjects the
most grave. In truth, he had more wit than he could well manage; it is
often ill-timed and ill-directed;[194] often he hits religion itself
when he aims it at superstition only; and whilst he “shoots his random
arrow o’er the house, he hurts a brother.”[195] It is possible to
imagine that had an infidel age, instead of an age of sound religious
inquiry, immediately succeeded the times of Erasmus, his levity would
have frequently proved mischievous, and the blows which he had intended
should tell against the church of Rome only, and which under Luther’s
management did there spend themselves, would have been found misplaced,
and apt to recoil. He was, perhaps, even more ambitious of reviving
learning than religion; it was popish ignorance as much as popish
heterodoxy that called him out. Literature was what he lived for. He
could have wished that such a scholar as Melancthon, so splendidly
endowed with talents for serving the cause of letters, had devoted
himself to letters alone;[196] and when at last he was moved to take
an active part against the Gospellers, as they were called, it seems
to have been in some measure from a notion that the Reformation was
absorbing every other question, and that in consequence of it the
study of profane authors was unreasonably neglected.[197] Erasmus,
however, as we have already hinted, was alarmed at the commotions which
Luther’s innovations threatened. When the tug of war came, he showed
that he had only been for a reformation on paper; he would detect
abuses, but not correct them; he was desirous of the end, but afraid
of the means; he was for the excision of the pound of flesh, but then
it must be done without shedding one drop of blood. Sir Thomas More,
though a person of much greater courage, both moral and physical, than
Erasmus, herein partook of his feelings; he saw the evil, but could
not see his way through it. His Utopia, written about the year 1513,
when he was yet young, is the work of a man alive to the corruptions
of a church of which he lived to be the champion, the inquisitor, and
the martyr. He could then, through the medium of his ideal republic,
and by the mouth of an imaginary speaker, pass censure upon the monks
as the drones of society[198]--reduce the number of the priests to the
number of the churches[199]--remove images[200]--advocate the right
of private judgment[201]--exhort that the work of conversion should
be done by persuasion, but not coercion, holding the faith of a man
to be not always an affair of volition;[202] he could banish from his
imaginary kingdom those who condemned all heretics to eternal torments
as bigots,[203] and extend his principles of concession even far beyond
those afterwards adopted by the author of the Liberty of Prophesying,
and to a degree incompatible with the existence of any religious
establishment whatever.[204] It is true, that a salvo is added in
conclusion[205] (just as Erasmus would have added it under similar
circumstances), that Sir Thomas More, for his part, thought much of
this visionary; but if so, why agitate such questions and unsettle the
minds of men to no purpose? Their author might indeed be disposed to
shut his eyes when he pulled the trigger, but it is pretty clear that
he aimed his piece at the church. But when that work was published,
More little thought what he should live to witness, or that a Luther
was nigh, even at the door--five years later, and probably Utopia would
never have seen the light; for the chancellor was one of the first to
take alarm at the progress of the Lutheran heresy, and to prophesy
no smooth things concerning it.[206] He wrote against it, attacking
Luther, Tindall, and Frith, with great acrimony, and opposing his
“Supplication of the Souls in Purgatory,” to a very popular pamphlet
by one Fish, published at that time, entitled “The Supplication of
Beggars,” in which the latter complained that they were robbed of
their rightful property in the people’s alms by the friars; and that
whereas the Pope had it in his power to release souls from purgatory
for nothing, he would only do it for money; nay, that when he might
extinguish it altogether, by a general gaol-delivery of the spirits
in prison, he still persisted in tolerating its continuance.[207] A
memorable instance it is of the force of religious prejudice, that Sir
T. More, placid and gentle as was his natural temper, and averse as he
had once shown himself to persecution for matters of opinion, should,
nevertheless, have hardened his heart against the reformers, and been
more than consenting to the death of Bilney and of Bainham.[208] In
this last case, indeed, he seems to have known no touch of pity; for
in the hope of making his victim discover his books and impeach his
acquaintance who were members of the Temple, he whipped him at a tree
in his garden at Chelsea, called the “tree of troth,” and afterwards
stood by when he was racked in the Tower. This is a sad falling off
from the tolerant principles of his youth; but meanwhile many feverish
years had passed over the head of Sir Thomas More, and inspired him
with a dread of those who were given to change--the crisis which he
had helped in a degree to call up, had come at the call, and the
magician stood aghast at the potency of his own spell. We are unfair
judges of the sentiments and conduct of men who lived upon the verge of
the Reformation. We are born when order has arisen out of confusion,
and a pure faith come forth from the refiner’s fire; but it must be
confessed, that before the event it was impossible to calculate its
probable consequences. This only was certain, that in number they
must be very many, in magnitude very great; and well might a wise
and thoughtful man, who stood upon the edge of that heaving sea of
troubles, contemplate the scene before him with an eye of anxiety,
of jealousy, and of fear for the issue. Indeed the Reformation was,
as one might expect, the cause of the _young_; a circumstance
of which Sir Thomas More does not fail to take advantage, when,
in his controversy with Frith on the corporal presence, he always
contemptuously speaks of him as “this _young_ man.”[209] And in a
curious interlude entitled “Lusty Juventus,” written on the side of the
Reformation, we read (loquitur Diabolus)--[210]

    “The old people would beleve stil in my lawes,
    But the yonger sort lead them a contrary way;
    They wyll not beleve, they playnly say,
    In old traditions as made by men,
    But they wyll ’leve as the Scripture teacheth them.”

There was too much hazard in it, and the sacrifice of too many early
associations, principles, and prejudices, for gray hairs. Time,
however, that gentle innovator, settled these differences. At the
period when the papal power was put down in England, nearly twenty
years had elapsed since Luther first took up his parable against papal
abuses. In this interval, a generation of aged defenders of the ancient
faith had been gathered to their fathers, and had given place to such
as had grown up under the influence of a better star. The press had
been active, of which the wonderful influence was first made known
upon this great question. The pure doctrines and heroic deeds of the
German reformers circulated throughout England. Luther was in every
mouth--ballads sung of him. His writings, together with those of Huss,
of Zuingle, and of many anonymous authors whom the times evoked, were
clandestinely dispersed. Tracts, with popular titles, such as “A
booke of the Olde God and New,” “The burying of the Masse;” “A, B, C,
against the Clergy,” made their appeals to the people. The confessions
of some of the more eminent Lollards, and expositions of particular
chapters of Scripture, which were thought to militate the most strongly
against the errors of Rome, were industriously scattered abroad.
Above all, Tindall’s translation of the New Testament was now in the
hands of many; for the price, as compared with that of Wickliffe’s a
century before, was just forty-fold less[211]; and by means of it,
the multitude were enabled to compare what the Gospel actually was,
with what Rome had made it by traditions.[212] The art of printing in
this age of the revival of the Gospel, answered in some measure to
the miraculous gift of tongues in the age of its first publication.
It was soon perceived, that if the pope did not put an end to the
press, the press would put an end to the pope. Awkward attempts were
made to defeat its labours. It was a new principle introduced into the
social system, which in its application, after the experience of three
centuries, is found to involve many difficulties, and with which, at
that time of day, neither its friends nor its foes knew how to deal.
Tonstall, bishop of London, a man of a very different spirit from
his brutal successor Bonner, bought up all the copies of Tindall’s
Translation, and burnt them up at Paul’s Cross:[213] a humane but
useless measure; for it soon appeared, that unless he could buy up ink,
paper, and types, he was only making himself Tindall’s best customer.
Accordingly, a new edition speedily issued from the Antwerp press,
in which former errors were corrected; and though one golden branch
had been torn away, another, not of the same but of a better metal,
succeeded it. The importation of these foreign wares was strictly
forbidden; but there was a demand for them in the country, and they
were smuggled notwithstanding. Proclamations were uttered against the
possessors of all heretical writings, but they were set at nought.[214]
Spies were encouraged; the husband tempted to betray the wife, the
parent the child, and a man’s foes became literally those of his own
household.[215] Nay, more, by a refinement in cruelty, the strongest
instincts of nature were outraged, and a daughter was compelled to
fire the fagots with her own hands, by which her father was to be
burned.[216] But measures like these were only calculated to defeat the
object which they were intended to promote.

Strong public feeling, when matured in its growth and righteous in its
principle, cannot be effectually suppressed--check it, and it rages
impatiently; whilst, if its fair course be not hindered, it may only
make sweet music.




                             CHAPTER VII.

                CRANMER.--THE DIVORCE.--THE SUPREMACY.


We have now touched upon a few of the many elements which were secretly
at work preparing England for a reformation of religion, and without
some regard to which it would be impossible to account for the rapid
pace at which it was consummated: let us but shut our eyes to this
undercurrent of events--take our stand at the accession of Henry the
Eighth--and endeavour to guess at the future; and what could seem
to us more improbable, than that a reign so begun was destined to
effect the extinction of the papal power in England? Henry mounted the
throne with a treasury full to overflowing, the fruits of a revenue
improved by the wisdom of his father’s laws, by the care with which
that sagacious monarch husbanded the nation’s purse, and, it must be
added, by the rapacity of Dudley and Empson, his fiscal officers; who
then would conjecture that an exhausted exchequer was to drive him to
the plunder of the church, in order to continue the profusion which
its affluence had taught him?--He had mounted the throne a zealous
papist and a learned, having been himself intended, it was said, for
the see of Canterbury, had not the death of his elder brother put the
crown upon his head instead of the mitre; ambitious, moreover, of papal
distinctions, and eventually able to procure them by entering the lists
with Luther as a volunteer champion of the ancient creed; who would
then conjecture that the title of “Defender of the Faith,” in the
sense in which it was conferred upon him, was the very last to which
he was to have a just claim?--He mounted the throne, having Katherine,
his brother’s widow, for his wife by a dispensation from the Pope,
who counted it the ratification of his own authority in England, that
her very princes were thenceforth to derive their title to the crown
from the validity of this his bull; who then would conjecture that
this stroke of policy, as it was thought, for which a point had been
strained at Rome, was to be precisely the ruin of the politician, and
that the subversion of papal usurpation in England would be actually
effected by the very measure which was to have confirmed it? Amongst
the distinctive marks by which God’s hand may be perceived regulating
human affairs, this, says Barrow, in his noble sermon on a special
Providence,[217] is one--“the wonderful strangeness of events compared
with the ordinary course of things, or the natural influence of
causes: when effects are performed by no visible means, or by means
disproportionate, unsuitable, repugnant to the effect:”--and surely,
when tried by such a criterion, nothing can furnish stronger evidence
of a work which “was not of man but of God,” than the events which
immediately preceded the Reformation, and the consequences which flowed
from them. It might seem that a question concerning the king’s marriage
was the most unlikely thing in the world to set this great cause in
motion--yet such was the fact.--Henry, after living nearly twenty
years with Katherine, felt, or affected to feel, scruples as to the
lawfulness of marrying a brother’s widow. Whether the exception which
was taken against the legitimacy of the Princess Mary by the French
ambassador when the marriage between her and the Duke of Orleans came
under discussion, was honestly made and did in reality open Henry’s
eyes to a new view of his own position--whether Wolsey started the
objections which unsettled the King’s mind, with the intention of
serving his own ends by thwarting the Emperor the Queen’s nephew, and
providing the King with a match more agreeable to himself--whether the
death of the Queen’s untimely offspring with a single exception, did
as he pretended, fill him with concern as the accomplishment of the
Levitical law, “that if a man take his brother’s wife it is an unclean
thing; they shall be childless;”[218]--or whether, on the other hand,
he was weary of a wife whose ascetic devotions might seem to fit her
more for a convent than a court, whilst her person, not attractive
at best, was now rendered less so by increasing infirmities;--or,
lastly, whether the charms of Ann Bullen had conjured up in him his
strong sense of the sin he had committed in uniting himself with
Katherine, as may be imagined without any great breach of charity of
a man, whose conscience, upon other occasions, besides this, seems to
have been singularly ill-timed in its suggestions--so it was, that a
divorce was determined upon, and measures were adopted to carry the
determination into effect. Opinions were divided; the sexes in general
took opposite sides; but the learned themselves were not agreed--on
the one hand, it was argued that the prohibition of such a marriage
was clear in the Levitical law,[219] and such prohibition was not to
be considered as confined to the Jews, for that the violation of it is
expressly numbered among the sins of the Canaanites by which the land
was polluted,[220] and therefore that it was of universal obligation;
moreover, that John the Baptist declared of Herod, that it was “not
lawful for him to have his brother’s wife;” that John, therefore, held
the law of Moses upon this point to be still binding;[221]--that in the
same manner St. Paul condemned the Corinthian convert of a fornication
not so much as named among the Gentiles, “in that he had his father’s
wife;”[222] which like the other was one of the degrees forbidden in
Leviticus, and forbidden in the very same chapter of Leviticus as the
relation in question;[223]--that St. Paul, therefore, pronounced the
Mosaical law, in these particulars, still to stand good.

On the other side, it was replied, that the Levitical precept must be
understood, of not taking a brother’s wife whilst he was living, for
that the brother was actually enjoined to take the brother’s widow, he
having died childless and to raise up seed unto his brother;[224]--that
with regard to Herod, he was guilty in the case of Herodias, not of
incest but of adultery--Philip, as seems probable from Josephus, being
yet alive;--that the like must be said of the Corinthian delinquent,
“fornication not to be named among the Gentiles,” implying that the
offence was committed in his father’s lifetime, since, otherwise the
connection, however monstrous, was not unknown among the Persians,
and that even amongst the Jews Adonijah had desired Abishag in
marriage.[225]

To this it was rejoined,--that the exception in the general law
proved only that God might dispense with his own ordinances for his
own ends, and that the end in this case was, the preservation of
a family in Israel, and care for the protection of the genealogy
of the future Messiah, objects now accomplished, and the means
thereto now superseded;--that in Herod’s affair, it cannot be with
certainty affirmed that when he married Herodias, Philip was living,
that she certainly deserted her former husband, but that she was
probably divorced from him; and that for aught which appears to the
contrary, Josephus who condemns her conduct as an infraction of the
law, understands, when he does so, her marriage with her husband’s
brother, he not having left her _childless_;[226]--that the case
of the Corinthian does not admit of the interpretation that he took
his father’s wife before his father’s death, for that the seventh
commandment alone was provision enough against such an abuse, and
that the eighteenth chapter of Leviticus, in which this and similar
abominations are forbidden, and to which St. Paul has here an eye, must
have contemplated something distinct from adultery, and does in fact
contemplate the case of incestuous alliance.

Much more was said. But the question was not debated upon scriptural
grounds only. The fathers, the schoolmen, and the Pope’s decretals were
all brought into the controversy, and a case under no circumstances
very simple became immeasurably complicated. It was at this period,
about the year 1529, that the King being upon a journey, chanced to
pass a night at Waltham-Cross; on this occasion it fell to the lot
of two of his servants, to sleep at the house of one Mr. Cressy, of
Waltham, where the conversation at the supper-table happened to turn
upon the great topic of the day--the royal divorce. Of the party, was
a fellow of Jesus’ College, Cambridge, whom the plague had driven from
the University, and who had taken up his quarters meanwhile at Mr.
Cressy’s house, being a relation of his wife, and the tutor of his
children; his opinion was asked, he being a learned academician,--it
went to this, that the question was one concerning the meaning of
Scripture and nothing else; and that of this, men of learning, and the
Universities more especially, would be the fittest judges; for “that
the Bishop of Rome had no such authority as whereby he might dispense
with the word of God.” Here were some great principles involved;
Scripture set up as the rule of action; the interpretation of it
asserted to be matter of private right; and the Pope himself declared
not to be above it. The sentiment was reported to the King, already
wearied with his “infinite cause,” as he called it; and the author of
it, much against his own will, was sent for to court--it was Cranmer.

“How far God fetches his purposes about!” is the contemplation of
Bishop Hall on the manner of Saul’s call to the kingly office. “The
asses of Kish, Saul’s father, are strayed away; what is that to the
news of a kingdom? But God lays these small accidents for the ground
of greater designs.”[227] The sickness at Cambridge, the moment at
which it occurred, the trifle which determined Waltham above all
places for the retreat of Cranmer, the casual sojourn of the king
there for a single night, the house of all the houses to which his
secretary and almoner were directed for their evening’s lodging,
and the subject-matter of the conversation, incidents, most of them
inconsiderable in themselves, and independent of one another, yet all
conspiring to call out of obscurity probably the fittest, perhaps the
only fit man in the whole kingdom, for superintending ecclesiastical
affairs at a crisis so peculiar--this is altogether a combination
of circumstances, which it may be philosophy to call a chapter of
accidents, but which it is not superstition to ascribe to the finger
of “a God that governs the earth.” With so splendid an instance before
our eyes, that opinion can scarcely be treated with disrespect, which
holds the call to the ministry to be in some degree, though certainly
in a subordinate degree, external; to be the voice of events which have
been so ordered as to guide the party to his novitiate, and to land him
at last in the priestly office. But this by the way. Cranmer had been
a hard student, and in the subjects of his study had kept pace with
the times in which he lived. He began, where most scholars in those
days ended, with Duns Scotus and the subtle doctors, a discipline
which had at least the merit of making astute disputants; and, as
Bishop Berkeley said of academical learning in general, might serve
even when forgotten, like a crop when ploughed under, to improve and
enrich the soil.[228] Escaped from the schools, he betook himself to
the writings of Erasmus, for whom he seems ever to have entertained a
strong personal regard, perhaps as being the author who first opened
his eyes. Luther absorbed him in his turn; and now the controversy
between that reformer and his opponents being serious, agitating
matters no less than the fundamentals of the Christian faith (_agitur
de vita et sanguine_), the appeal moreover being made to Scripture
alone, Cranmer set himself resolutely to the examination of the word
of God, that he might qualify himself for exercising a sound judgment
on these high arguments; and of the patience, the learning, the
discrimination, with which he did this, the Liturgy of our church (were
there no other) would be an everlasting monument, in which, whoever
will be at the pains of taking a prayer or a clause to pieces, will
find occasion to wonder at the masterly knowledge of the Bible which
the selection even of some single expression often betrays, so that
having pursued happily, as he thinks, some intricate point of theology
through windings manifold, and having arrived at a conclusion which
he almost fancies his very own, he will be surprised to find that our
reformer has been beforehand with him even in this, and has given some
unobtrusive indication of his being in possession of the secret by a
word in season dropped out of his abundance as he passes on his way.

Such was the man whom the accidents we have recounted introduced to
King Henry. Henry commanded him to digest in writing the substance of
what he had uttered on the question of the divorce, and committed him
to the hospitality of the Earl of Wiltshire, the most accomplished
nobleman of the day, the father of Ann Bullen, where that friendship
was formed between the future archbishop and the future queen, which
still further promoted the cause of the Reformation, and disposed the
latter to be in heart, as well as in principle, a nursing mother to the
infant church.

Meanwhile the King’s cause, which had been submitted in an early
stage of it to the Pope’s decision, had made small progress. Cardinal
Campejus had been united in a commission with Wolsey to try it in
England, but there was no serious intention of ever giving judgment.
Whatever hand Wolsey might have had in stirring the question at first,
he soon found that he should not be able to substitute for Katharine
a queen of his own; and though not a cordial churchman, nor caring
about giving offence to churchmen, nor very nice upon the sin of
sacrilege (for his example was afterwards quoted in the dissolution
of the abbeys), still he was not desirous of exchanging even the most
rigorous Romanist for a Lutheran, and he therefore was lukewarm in the
prosecution of the suit. His colleague had his private instructions
and private interests too. The affair was embarrassing to the Pope: he
could not decide without exasperating an Emperor of Germany or a King
of England, and he seems to have halted between the two, hoping perhaps
that some propitious accident of death or disaster might intervene to
release him from his unpleasant dilemma. Accordingly, the judgment
of the commissioners is expected from day to day; the court meets,
deliberates, examines witnesses, and determines nothing. It was for
the credit of the King that matters should not seem to be done in heat
or haste. The Queen was to be cited; on her non-appearance, to be
pronounced contumacious; a fresh citation to be issued; a reservation
to be made of some collateral question for the Pope’s own decision; the
sittings of the court to follow the rules of the Consistory of Rome,
of which it was but a branch, and the cause to be suspended during the
vacations at Rome; finally, the commission was to be closed, and the
whole process to be transferred to the hearing of the Pontiff himself,
and the King and Queen to appear before him in person or by proxy. But
this last was an alternative to which the King had too high a stomach
to submit, who pleaded the prerogative of his crown, which did not
allow of being subjected to foreign jurisdiction, and the liberties of
his people, which demanded that questions of marriage should be tried
at home and by their own church.[229] Thus passed away six long years
in fruitless negotiations, till Henry, having now secured the opinion
of nearly all the universities at home and abroad in his favour, a
measure which Cranmer, whom he had sent upon the Continent as his
champion for this purpose, had been very instrumental in accomplishing,
as well as the verdict of the most distinguished individuals amongst
the divines and scholars of Europe, gave proof that the “strong blood”
of the Plantagenets was in his veins, took the law into his own hands,
married Ann Bullen probably on the 14th November, 1532, and set the
Pope at defiance.

On reviewing the question of the divorce (as by a misnomer it has been
called), there can be little doubt, we suppose, that the marriage was
in the first instance unlawful. The authorities which declared it
so preponderated at the time of the discussion; many, and amongst
others Archbishop Warham, had protested against the match when it was
originally proposed; and when the canon of prohibited degrees was
afterwards adjusted by Archbishop Parker, it was expressly determined
that a man may not marry his brother’s wife. If, therefore, the
conduct of Henry had been such in other respects as to give token of
a scrupulous conscience, it might have been credited that in this
instance he was sincere in his professions of uneasiness; and that
believing Katharine and himself to be joined together otherwise than
God’s word doth allow, he sought for relief in the dissolution of the
contract. But that contract was entered into with deliberation; it
was made when the King was a minor--it was repeated and ratified when
he was of just age; the objections, whatever they were, were not new;
they had been raised and over-ruled, when Katharine was to be the
bride, when she had youth to plead for her, and a dower of unparalleled
magnitude, the first fruits of the trans-Atlantic treasures of Spain:
it was only when these advocates were no more, her blossom faded, and
her golden fruit gathered and gone, that the objections (valid in
themselves) became fatal. Her lot in life was indeed hard; but her
grave at least has been strewed with immortal flowers; and “the meek
sorrows and virtuous distress of Katharine have furnished some scenes
(says no mean critic) which may be justly reckoned amongst the greatest
efforts of tragedy.”

And now, Archbishop Warham being sick unto death, the King intimates
to Cranmer, who was engaged in his service on the Continent, his
intention of promoting him to the primacy. There are some men who seek
honours, and some who have honours thrust upon them: Cranmer belonged
to the latter class; he was not prepared for so great and sudden an
elevation. Under pretence that the King’s affairs still required
his presence abroad, he tarried six months longer, in the hope that
Henry might consign the crosier to some other hand.[230] There was no
affectation in this--no _fuga ad salices_. Ambition is made of
sterner stuff than the spirit of Cranmer. Even at an age when such a
passion, if ever, must have been most active, and when he was as yet
without a patron, he, like Parker, declined the offer of a fellowship
in cardinal Wolsey’s college at Oxford, preferring the society of
his old friends, or fellow-students, to the more splendid prospects
which, a connection with the great favourite of the day presented;
and even risking his displeasure rather than do violence to his own
early associations, and bid adieu to the scenes of his boyhood and
his youth. Neither was it of his own good will that he was in the
first instance brought under the King’s notice, by the question of
the divorce;--on the contrary, he quarrelled with his friends who had
thus disturbed his repose, pleaded that it was a matter on which he
had bestowed no pains or study, and begged in vain that he might be
excused the honour of being closeted with a king.[231] Nor, indeed,
were the times such as promised the head which wore the mitre an office
of ease. Likely it was to prove but “a glistering grief,”--“a golden
sorrow,” to the wearer; and it wanted no great sagacity to foresee
(what the King told Cranmer when he afterwards changed his arms) that
the pelican was fitter for his crest than the crane: seeing that “he
would one day have to shed his blood for his young ones, if he stood
to his tackling.”[232] But there was yet another and a stronger reason
for Cranmer holding back;--the scruples he entertained touching the
oath of fidelity to the Pope, which was exacted of an archbishop at
his presentation. As yet the supremacy of the Pope was acknowledged;
and though the subject had been mooted two years before, and even
the title of supreme head of the church and clergy of England had
been ascribed to Henry by the convocation under Archbishop Warham, in
1530, it was reluctantly, and was not immediately followed up. Here,
therefore, Cranmer was embarrassed. The oath, however, he took under a
previous public[233] protestation, “that he did not admit the Pope’s
authority any further than it agreed with the express word of God; and
that it might be lawful for him at all times to speak against him, and
to impugn his errors when there should be occasion.”[234] The honesty
of this proceeding has been often made the subject of debate; and it
must be acknowledged that it presents some symptoms of a mind yet
scarcely escaped from the dangerous casuistry of the Roman Catholic
doctors;--some touch of that jesuitical spirit which is so effectually
exposed in the letters of Pascal; and against the insidious approaches
of which even the native integrity of the single-hearted Cranmer was
not altogether proof. In this instance, as in the instance of Sir T.
More’s persecutions, and indeed of his own, it was a corrupted and
corrupting creed that was in fault, rather than an evil heart or evil
eye in the individuals themselves. Still many circumstances may be
pleaded in extenuation of Cranmer’s conduct. He did not take the Pope
by surprise; the name, the writings, and the person of Cranmer, were
familiar to him; Cranmer had openly contended against his dispensing
power in the case of the divorce both in Germany, and at Rome itself,
nearly three years before; so that even had no protest been made on
his part, the Pope must have been aware of the character and opinions
of the man; and if he admitted him to the primacy, he must have been
conscious that he did it at his peril. The truth was, the pope had no
choice, and he felt that he had none: doubtless he would have been
too glad to reject the King’s candidate and to substitute for him a
creature of his own; but he knew with whom he had to deal in Henry,
not with a tame monarch, and with what he had to deal in England, no
longer with a tame people. He knew that the very point at issue, the
necessity of his bull at all to legalise the appointment to the see
of Canterbury, was even then disputed, and that to withhold it under
such circumstances would be merely to hasten the crisis which he had
too much reason to think was in any case at hand, the loss of his
supremacy. The event proved this. He did not refuse the bull, (not
that he was aware of Cranmer’s protest at the time; but of Cranmer’s
character, which was equivalent to it, he was perfectly aware,) and
accordingly he staved off the evil that menaced him for one year
more, but it was only for one year. This was the last bull he sent
into England during the reign of Henry; and had that capricious
prince listened to the advice and entreaty of Cranmer, application
would not have been made even for this,[235] and then Henry would
have been sooner spared the dishonour of subjecting his bishops to a
dilemma by which perjury to the Pope or to the King could scarcely be
escaped, and Cranmer would have been spared the equivocation by which
he laboured to reconcile oaths which were irreconcilable. Here, after
all, was the grievance, and on those who exacted them was, in a great
measure, the guilt. Nothing less was required of a bishop than to swear
allegiance to two masters, who had no two interests in common:--to
the Pope; that he would, from that hour forward, be faithful and
obedient to St. Peter and to the holy church of Rome, to my Lord
the Pope and his successors; that they should suffer no wrong by any
means with his advice, consent, or connivance, that their counsel he
would not discover, their regality he would help, maintain and defend,
against all men; their rights, honours, privileges, authorities, he
would augment and promote; and any designs against the same, which
came to his knowledge, he would resist and denounce:--to the King,
that he would thenceforward utterly forsake all clauses, words,
sentences, grants which he had or should have hereafter from the Pope’s
Holiness in virtue of his bishopric that in any wise were or might be
prejudicial to his Highness, his heirs, successors, dignity, privilege,
or estate royal; that to him and his he would be faithful and true,
and live and die with him against all people; that he acknowledged
himself to hold his bishopric of him only, and accordingly besought of
him the restitution of the temporalities of the same.[236] Now to be
impaled on one or other of the horns of such an alternative as this
was a cruel situation into which no man ought to have been forced; and
though it is an easy thing for an indifferent spectator at a distance
to philosophise upon the unseemly writhings of the victim, yet some
allowance will be made for him by every pitiful-hearted observer if,
in his struggles to get off the hook, he should chance to uncover his
nakedness. The question indeed, resolved itself into this; were there,
or were there not, to be bishops in England? for if none would take
the oaths who could not acquiesce in both of them to the letter, and
if none were to be admitted to consecration who refused either of the
oaths, the order of prelates was at an end.[237]

On the 30th March, 1533, Cranmer was consecrated by the Bishops
of Lincoln, Exeter, and St. Asaph; and in the May following (the
convocation having declared the King’s marriage with Katharine
unlawful) he publicly pronounced the sentence of their separation;
and about the same time confirmed by another judgment, the match with
Ann Bullen. Thus was he now fairly embarked in the same boat with
the King, and the part he took in the transactions of these days was
faithfully treasured up in the memory of Mary, and served at length
(though not in the scriptural sense of the expression) to heap coals
of fire upon his head. But however important such measures were in
fact, they were doubly so in principle. The Pope had joined a King
and Queen together as lawful man and wife; his right to do this is
not only disputed, but denied; and the church of England, assuming an
attitude of independence, rescinds his decision, and sets his authority
at nought. This could not be passed over. Rome threatens the King with
excommunication; and as the last ounce it is that breaks the camel’s
back, so here the menace proved enough to try the question of papal
claims upon England, and to effect the rejection of them for ever.

The grounds of such a decision were many and various; in the first
place, St. Peter himself, on whose transmitted authority the popes
pretended to found their own, was not at all superior to the other
apostles:--“Thou art Peter,” said indeed our Lord to him, “and on this
rock will I build my church;” but he only built it upon him as he built
it upon James or John. Of the church of Ephesus, it was expressly
declared that it was built “upon the foundation of the _apostles_
and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner-stone.”[238]
In whatever sense, therefore, Peter might be called the rock, (if
indeed to Peter the expression referred, and not to Christ,) James or
John might be called so too. When an apostle was to be appointed in the
room of Judas, it did not fall to Peter’s province especially to choose
him; when deacons were instituted, it was not exclusively by Peter
that it was done; the bishop of the first and principal church after
our Lord’s ascension was not Peter but James; and by James the decree
touching circumcision was issued. St. Paul had no scruple in rebuking
Peter to his face when he dissembled, or in asserting of himself
that “he was not a whit behind the very chiefest apostles.”[239] But
further, even had St. Peter been all that the church of Rome pretended,
his superiority would still have been of person, not of place, and
could not attach to Rome more than to Antioch; nor so much, if Rome,
as some even of the earliest interpreters of Scripture affirmed, was
Babylon. Moreover, whilst the commission given by our Lord to Peter,
“Feed my sheep,” (which was a text put in the fore-front of the
controversy by the Romanists) could be interpreted to mean the whole
world was to be the Pope’s diocese, there was nothing which Scripture
might not be made to mean; besides, if the Pope was St. Peter’s
successor, wherein, it was asked, did the succession consist? What one
thing had St. Peter like the Pope, or the Pope like St. Peter? Did St.
Peter take away the keys of the kingdom of heaven; hide the treasures
of God’s word; consign souls to purgatory, or release them from it
at his pleasure for silver or gold; pray in an unknown tongue; carry
about the sacrament with lights and bells; sell jubilees, graces,
palls, bulls, pardons, indulgences? Did he call himself the head of
the church, the bishop of bishops, and usurp dominion over all God’s
creatures? Did he exempt himself from the power of civil government;
maintain wars; set princes at variance; or sit in a chair with a purple
gown and regal sceptre and diadem of gold and precious stones, and set
his feet on kings’ necks? Did St. Peter, it was asked in conclusion,
leave these affairs and others like them in charge to his successors
from hand to hand?

Nor, in transferring the supremacy from the Pope to the King, did
the church of England act unadvisedly, however it was objected to
her that civil princes should confine themselves to civil matters.
Certainly, nothing could be more inexpedient, whether for the good
government of the country, or its spiritual improvement, than that
there should be in it two sovereign heads, each desirous to have the
pre-eminence, and a struggle be thus perpetuated between politics and
religion; such a mingling of hot blood with sacrifice could never be
acceptable to a God of order and peace; and how was the inconvenience
to be avoided except by making one and the same person in all causes,
ecclesiastical as well as civil, supreme? Neither was this a new thing
under the sun: God had of old time commissioned kings to execute
many holy offices.--Isaiah had spoken of them as nursing fathers of
the church;[240]--Moses, the civil magistrate, had rebuked Aaron the
priest for a breach of duty--Joshua had set many things in order which
pertained to God; enjoining circumcision, commanding sacrifices to be
made, and the blessings and curses of the law to be sounded in the
ears of the people--David had directed and superintended the removal
of the ark to Jerusalem--Solomon had reared the Temple, addressed his
subjects afterwards in a godly oration, deposed Abiathar the priest,
and set up Zadok in his place--Josiah had restored and reformed the
worship of his time; cleansed the Temple, broken the brazen serpent,
now become an object of idolatry, and despatched his priest to inquire
of the prophetess respecting the copy of the law which he had recently
discovered;[241] and whatever may be said of a change of times and
systems since these dynasties passed away, still the principle itself
is not affected by such change; and nothing can be more certain than
that these persons were temporal and not spiritual governors of their
nation, and yet that in matters ecclesiastical they were authorised to
a certain extent to interfere--we say, to a certain extent; for neither
could these sovereigns, nor can any sovereigns, as such, excommunicate,
or bind, or loose, or perform, one of the priestly functions; still
they may lawfully see that others duly commissioned do perform them; it
is one thing to exercise the office of a bishop, and another to provide
that a bishop there be, and a fit one, to execute it for himself.[242]

Neither does it seem to be unmeet that they who are themselves
the “ministers of God,” (as St. Paul expressly calls the supreme
magistrates) the “powers ordained of God,” the men to whom “every
soul,” without any reservation of ecclesiastics, is to be subject
“because they are of God,” should have some voice in the approval
of the servants of God’s church, and some control over them; more
especially when it is remembered that it is the duty of a king to rule
well, and that it would be difficult for him to rule at all, with a
body of men within his realm and out of his own reach, who must always
possess, so long as the concerns of a world beyond the grave can touch
mankind, a very powerful lever in their hands, which, however honestly
it may be, and is in general applied, is nevertheless capable of
misapplication, as the history of every nation can testify, and none
more than our own.[243] And without any reference to extreme cases, to
the danger, for instance, of religious meetings becoming, in critical
seasons, schools of sedition, and of the divine resolving himself into
the demagogue; a danger, however, by no means chimerical when there is
nothing to connect the system of religious instruction with the office
of the civil magistrate; even in ordinary times it would be found, and
it has been found, that the spirit of the independent congregation
and that of the government under which it exists, but to which it
owes nothing, coincide but little--and that the state is apt to feel
its energies crippled by the positive opposition, or at least the
non-co-operation of these, its members, in their religious capacity.

It may be added, in defence of the consolidation of the supremacy, both
civil and ecclesiastical, in the king, that the Romanists themselves
could not deny that the early councils (the decrees of which are
recognised by the church of Rome to this day) were summoned by the
magistrate, and not by the Bishop of Rome; the council of Nice; for
example, by Constantine, “who called together a synod (they are the
words of Sozomen), and wrote letters to those who were set over the
churches, in every place to attend on a certain day--and there were
present (he adds) at this assembly, from the apostolic see, Macarius
of Jerusalem, Eustathius, the President of the church of Antioch, (who
is reported by Theodoret, it may be observed, as the leader of the
council, and the orator who opened it by an address to the emperor,)
Alexander of Alexandria, Biton and Bicentius, presbyters of the church
of Rome, Julius the bishop being absent, and in all, of bishops about
three hundred and twenty, and of presbyters and deacons who attended
them no small number.”[244]

Thus do we find Scripture lending its sanction to such an alliance
between church and state, as the identification of the king with the
supreme head of the church implies--early ecclesiastical history
declaratory of the authority by which councils were at first summoned,
giving it the approbation of primitive usage--and the necessity of one
mind actuating every member of the body politic, both civil and sacred,
dictating its expediency.




                             CHAPTER VIII.

        DISSOLUTION OF THE ABBEYS.--CHURCH PROPERTY.--IMMEDIATE
                   CONSEQUENCES OF THE DISSOLUTION.


Henry had by this time fairly passed the Rubicon. After a long pause
and much anxiety for the event, he had ventured upon an act which was
a declaration of war against the Pope, and he must now carry on. The
strength of the Pontiff lay, as we have seen, in the monastic orders,
and in the Mendicants above all. The secular clergy were better
subjects, and acknowledged a less divided allegiance. But the monks
were so powerful a body in England that the monarch, even in times when
he wore far from the _semblance_ of a kingly crown, could scarcely
balance them. Grievances are alleged against them without end in the
“Supplication of Beggars;” “But what remedy?” says the author of this
singular address to the King. “Make laws against them? I am in doubt
whether ye be able. Are they not stronger in your own parliament-house
than yourself? What a number of bishops, abbots, and priors are lords
of your parliament![245] Are not all the learned men of your realm
in fee with them, to speak in your parliament-house for them against
your crown, dignity, and commonwealth of your realm, a few of your own
learned council only expected? What law can be made against them that
will be available?”[246] When, therefore, the time came for all men to
choose their side, and it was clearly seen that this formidable body of
regulars would cleave to the Pope to a man, the question was, whether
the King should put down the monks, or the monks the King. Henry had
no alternative but to try a fall with them, and accordingly, having
been slow (considering his temperament) to get into the quarrel, he
still acted as Lord Bacon would have advised, and being in it bore
himself bravely. Some encouragement in his hazardous undertaking he
might possibly derive from the new channel in which public benefactions
began now to run, and the feeling it indicated towards the religious
houses; for whilst no abbey or priory had been founded for thirty
years and upwards, the endowment of schools and colleges was becoming
more and more frequent.[247] Accordingly, he began with the lesser
monasteries, of which the income did not exceed 200_l._, or the
inmates twelve in number. There were many reasons for making them his
first victims. They were the houses of the the _friars_, the most
faithful of all the Pope’s servants, and the earliest to lift up their
voice against the King’s supremacy whilst the question of the divorce
was in progress. The friars did not stay at home like the easy and
well-conditioned monks, but had to forage for a living. “Go not from
house to house,” though a text uttered, as it might seem, with almost
a prophetic reference to them, they found it convenient to overlook.
Whatever opinions, therefore, they entertained, they had the power of
putting in extensive circulation; now that they were disaffected, this
facility became doubly dangerous. Then they were the most vulnerable
of the orders; their corruptions were the grossest. Their vagrant
habits threw them amongst temptations, whilst they at the same time
withdrew them from wholesome restraints. Abroad they were notorious for
intrigues in the hospitable families of the peasants and artisans who
received them; and at home they had a treasury of lies, very profitable
to themselves whilst their credit was good, but more profitable to
their enemies when the fictitious nature of the capital with which they
traded was exposed. The Rood of Grace, which would hang its lip when
silver was offered to it, and shake its beard merrily when the offering
was of gold, was for a time an exchequer; but when the profane hand
of a Thomas Cromwell had once opened the figure at Paul’s Cross, and
displayed to the good citizens of London the wires by which it had been
worked, indignation took the place of credulity, and the craftsmen, to
whom it had brought no small gain, were justly scandalised. Moreover,
the destruction of these lesser houses did not touch in a very tender
place the powerful and privileged classes of society. Younger brothers
were provided for in the wealthy abbey, but not in the friar’s hostel.
It was a war upon the weak (so far as property was concerned,) and
at a time when commerce and manufactures had not taught the weak but
the many their value and their strength; and therefore it was a step
attended with less danger. Lastly, it was a measure that served very
well as a feeler for one still greater which was behind, but which was
as yet studiously disavowed, the suppression of all the monasteries and
convents great and small; it was the bristle which made a way for the
thread.

Thus the year 1536, saw the downfall of 376 smaller abbeys, and the
transfer of the buildings themselves, and of the estates attached
thereto, to the King. Here, Henry appears for a little while to have
paused, partly, perhaps, waiting to see the effect of his first blow,
and partly engaged by domestic matters and the judicial destruction
of Ann; but he was now too deeply embarked in the work of spoliation
to stop long. The greater monasteries had taken the alarm, many of
them had already divested themselves of whatever they could detach and
turn into money; fines were passed to the detriment of the rent-roll,
and furniture and plate sold to the dismantling of the house; so that
upon the whole, the personal property of these greater houses was not
found to be near so rich a booty as that of the less, on which the
storm had burst unawares. Besides, what had been as yet done was enough
to irritate, but not enough to disarm the regulars; Henry had made
them implacable without making them impotent; and a rebellion which
they were understood secretly to have fomented in various parts of
England, and especially in the north (the quarter whence some of the
most serious of the English rebellions have issued,) was sufficient to
attest at once their spirit and their strength. Once more, therefore,
the visiters were put in motion. Their commission was made out to
examine and report the state of the religious societies yet subsisting;
and as the inquiry embraced the purity, the sincerity, and what was
more questionable still, the loyalty of the parties, a verdict of
guilty, as might be anticipated, was soon returned. In many cases,
indeed, the inquisitors were spared their investigation, and some
parties feeling their approaching condemnation to be just, and more
feeling it to be inevitable, determined to take their sea of troubles
at half-tide and make at once a confession and a surrender. To induce
this, however, much machinery was set to work by the commissioners
themselves; for it was with a heavy heart, and a strong sense of the
injustice of the demand, that the honest head of a religious house
resigned that, which “was not his to geve,” (as the prior of Henton
wrote to his brother, reflecting herein a very general feeling,)
“being dedicate to Allmyghtye Gode for service to be done to hys
honoure continuallye, with other many goode deeds off daylye charite
to christen neybors.”[248] Still some resignations were obtained by
promises of pensions; some, again, by threats of exposure, real, or
pretended. If a superior was after all refractory, he was put out of
the way by force; and some disorderly substitute having been previously
provided by the visiter, the latter was formally ejected, and thus
appearances were saved.[249] Nor, probably, were there wanting amongst
the young and adventurous, those who were glad to be released from
retreats which, like the Happy Valley, were too free from pain to be
pleasurable; and who had found that there was but small satisfaction in
the enjoyment “of that fugitive and cloistered virtue, that shrunk from
the race when the prize was to be won not without dust and heat.”[250]

Amidst the strife of tongues, which those tempestuous times called
forth, it is almost hopeless to come at the exact truth. On the one
hand, the visiters are charged with inordinate rapacity, with private
embezzlement of the vast property lying at their mercy, and even
with abusing the opportunities which their commission gave them, and
corrupting the nuns. They, on the other hand, retaliated by presenting
to the eyes of the people a most revolting picture of the interior of
these whited sepulchres (for such they were described to be) fair on
the outside, but within full of dead men’s bones, and all uncleanness,
of spurious relics and sensual sins, and the foulness of the picture
helped to relieve the King from the odium of destroying it.

Yet, bad as the monasteries were reported to be, and bad in many
instances they probably were, (for the system was in some respects
radically pernicious,) the event proved that they had their redeeming
qualities too; and as we know not, says the proverb, what the well is
worth till it is dry, so was it found after the dissolution, that,
with all their faults, the monasteries had been the refuge for the
destitute who were now driven to frightful extremities throughout the
country, the effect of the suppression being with respect to them the
same as would now follow from the sudden abolition of the poor laws;
they had been the alms-houses, where the aged dependants of more
opulent families, the decrepid servant, the decayed artificer, retired
as to a home neither uncomfortable nor humiliating; that they had
been the county infirmaries and dispensaries, a knowledge of medicine
and of the virtues of herbs being a department of monkish learning
(as passages in the old dramatic writers sometimes indicate,) and
a hospital, and, perhaps, a laboratory, being component parts of a
monkish establishment; that they had been foundling asylums, relieving
the state of many orphan and outcast children, and ministering to their
necessities, God’s ravens in the wilderness, (neither so black as they
had been represented,) bread and flesh in the morning, and bread and
flesh in the evening;[251] that they had been inns for the way-faring
man, who heard from afar the sound of the vesper bell, at once inviting
him to repose and devotion, and who might sing his matins with the
morning star, and go on his way rejoicing; that they filled up the gap
in which the public libraries have since stood, and if their inmates
were not very desirous to eat of the tree of knowledge themselves,
they had at least the merit of cherishing and preserving it alive
for others. Thus do we find in the monastic system a provision made
for many of those wants of society which public institutions are now
designed to meet perhaps more effectually; and it is not uninteresting
to remark, how the great wants of nature still make themselves known,
whatever convulsions a nation may undergo, and still conduct it to
something like the same course as before, though not, perhaps, under
the same name; and when the flood subsides that has covered the earth,
to see how Ararat rears his head as he did at the first, and Pihon
returns into his wonted channel to water the garden. Well would it be
for the peace of the world if this consideration had its due influence
that should paralyse, but that should moderate; if men would not
subject society to needless confusion, whilst they attempt to expel
nature by a fork, sure as it is to recoil and recover itself; if they
would spare themselves and others the inconvenience of a struggle,
where they fight as one beating the air.

The convulsion felt throughout the country on this memorable occasion
was probably more violent than any which it has experienced either
before or since. The joints of society were thoroughly loosed; a vast
proportion of the population was turned adrift upon the wide world,
their employment gone, their relief gone too. Seventy-two thousand
persons are said to have perished by the hand of the executioner in the
reign of King Henry, some made desperate by want, and some made bold
by the lawless license of the times. Cromwell, who was the the King’s
political adviser throughout this great measure, felt the state rocking
under him, and suggested the sale of the abbey lands and tithes at
easy prices to the nobles and gentry, that by this means the leading
persons in every county might be pledged to support the new order of
things, and be tied by the tooth. Thus popish lands, as it was said,
made protestant landlords, and thus the _lay impropriator_, a
character hitherto almost or altogether unknown, took his beginning.
How far the country was a gainer by the exchange of ecclesiastical
for other landlords may be questioned. The monks were accused of
covetousness; yet it is singular that no legal provision for the
poor was wanted so long as the property was in their hands, and that
it had scarcely left their hands before it was found necessary to
make such a provision; the statute of the 5th of Elizabeth being the
first direct one of the kind.[252] The monks were said to deal very
thriftily with the incumbents of their livings; yet it is remarkable
that no law for preventing the dilapidation of parsonages was called
for till the 13th of the same reign. The monks lavished decorations
upon their own chapels to the comparative neglect of their country
churches, but they never pulled down all the houses on an estate in
order that there might be no congregation, and then converted the
church into a straw barn, because there was none.[253] The monks
gave a miserable stipend to their vicar, “but now,” says one Henry
Brinklow, in a curious address to the members of both houses shortly
after the dissolution, “there is no vicar at all, but the farmer is
vicar and parson altogether; and only an old castaway monk or friar,
which can scarcely say his matins, is hired for twenty or thirty
shillings, meat and drink; yea, in some places, for meat and drink
alone, without any wages. I know,” he continues, “and not I alone,
but twenty thousand men know, more than five hundred vicarages and
parsonages thus well and gospelly served after the new gospel of
England.”[254] And so crying was this evil, for even great parishes
and market towns were utterly destitute of the word of God,[255]
that there was nothing for it but to ordain the lowest mechanics to
these worthless benefices, no man of education being willing to accept
such a pittance, for the endowments, it must be observed, had been
seized precisely at the time when the wages of superstition in the
shape of fees, which before the Reformation supplied no small part
of the vicar’s income, were extinguished also, and holy toys were
no longer vendible. The cause of religion, however, being found at
length to suffer seriously, both from the ignorance and the lives
of these preachers, Archbishop Parker enjoined his suffragrans to
refuse such candidates holy orders, and then pluralities became a
bad, but it was the best, or rather the only, alternative.[256] Queen
Anne lamented and endeavoured to remedy the evil. She discharged all
livings under fifty pounds a year, according to an improved valuation
which she directed the bishops and others to make, from the payment
of tenths to the exchequer, a tax which had caused many benefices to
remain altogether without incumbents; and by another and still more
munificent act, she made over the first-fruits and tenths of such as
were undischarged, to the augmentation of small livings; a fund which,
it may be here observed, had been seized by Henry, the successor of
the pope in his fees as he was in his supremacy; hereby doing what in
her lay to heal the laceration which the system of lay-impropriations
had inflicted on the church, and purchasing for herself, beyond most
other sovereigns that have sat upon the throne of England, a good
renown. But, in general, this ill-gotten and ill-applied wealth served
only to verify the adage, “that the devil’s corn goes all to bran.”
The receivers of the plunder rarely prospered; and it is observed
by Sir. H. Spelman, about the year 1616, that on comparing the
mansion-houses of twenty-four families of gentlemen in Norfolk, with
as many monasteries, all standing together at the dissolution, and all
lying within a ring of twelve miles the semi-diameter, he found the
former still possessed by the lineal descendants of their original
occupants in every instance; whilst the latter, with two exceptions
only, had flung out their owners again and again some six times over,
none less than three, through sale, through default of issue, and very
often through great and grievous disasters.[257] Nor was this the
opinion of an individual, or of a visionary; on the contrary, it was
very generally entertained by men the most sober-minded. Archbishop
Whitgift, in his appeal to Queen Elizabeth against the sacrilegious
designs of the Earl of Leicester and others, challenges this as a truth
“already become visible in many families, that church land, added to
an ancient and just inheritance, hath proved like a moth fretting a
garment, and secretly consumed both.”[258] Lord Burleigh, whose bias
was rather that of the Puritan than of the Roman Catholic, cautioned
Thomas, his first-born, not to build on an impropriation, as fearing
the foundation might hereafter fail.[259] “I charge you,” was one of
the three injunctions laid upon his son by Lord Strafford when under
sentence of death, “touching church property, never to meddle with
it; for the curse of God will follow all them that meddle with such a
thing that tends to the destruction of the most apostolical church upon
earth.”[260] And even Selden (no violent advocate of ecclesiastical
dues) censures the alienation of tithes. “And let them remember,” he
writes, “who says, ‘It is a destruction for a man to devour what is
consecrated.’”[261] Indeed, during the latter half of the seventeenth
century--whether from compunction--whether from the attention of the
public having been directed to the subject by Archbishop Laud, and by
popular treatises which made their appearance about that time--whether
from the experience and notoriety of the evil, and the consequent
shame it drew upon its abettors, or from whatever other cause--many
impropriations were voluntarily relinquished, and a very considerable
number of vicarages were more or less augmented.[262] Still there is
no abuse out of which Providence cannot extract some good. This act
of desecration (as it was considered) proved the safety, perhaps, of
the yet tottering Protestant cause, under the reign of Queen Mary; for
the great proprietors had violent scruples against returning to a form
of faith which might entail upon them the surrender of their lands.
And though it is probable that the religious establishment of this
country, if it had stood at all, would have stood upon firmer ground
at this moment, had the Reformation been completed (for it was left
sadly imperfect), by the revision instead of the excessive alienation
of the revenues of the church; yet, as affairs turned out, that very
spoliation, perhaps, sustained the Church of England a second time,
when the Puritan lay impropriators threw themselves in the way (whether
consistently or not) of the abolition of tithes;[263] and more unlikely
things have happened than that it should do the country the like good
office again; for it would require a man of more intrepidity than even
the disingenuous Neal (who walks over this incident more delicately
than is his custom where there is room for a fling at the church) to
draw a distinction between the lay and ecclesiastical tithe-holder, in
favour of the former; and to maintain that the right of the one is
inviolable, because he does not observe the conditions upon which it
was originally founded; whilst that of the other is nugatory, because
he does. Certain it is, that the people were at first very reluctant to
transfer the payment of tithes (which they had ever regarded, and which
the law had ever taught them to regard, as inseparably connected with
religious services,) to laymen;[264] and however it may be the fashion
of our own times to spare the impropriator, and assail the clergymen,
nothing is more true, than that it was not so from the beginning; but,
on the contrary, that it was then thought no less an anomaly to pay
tenths to the landlord, than it would now be thought so to pay fees for
burials and baptisms to the squire. But it must be confessed that the
Roman Catholic Church, owing to that entire selfsecurity from which she
did not rouse herself till the Philistines were upon her, had in some
measure to thank herself for the irreverence with which ecclesiastical
property was now treated. Not twelve years before the great overthrow
of the monasteries, the pope himself granted Wolsey a bull for the
dissolution of several religious houses,[265] and the application of
the funds to the erection and endowment of his colleges at Oxford and
Ipswich; and, indeed, generally, by the diversion of estates from one
ecclesiastical use to another, a process perpetually going on, often
effected rather for individual advantage than for the public good, and
often under circumstances of collusion and contrivance discreditable
to all the parties concerned, a feeling of respect for the possessions
of the church as exclusive and inalienable was weakened. The tendency
of such a traffic (however confined to a privileged order) was to
make the article itself looked upon in the light of merchandise, and
to invite towards it the itching palms of the profane. And even,
now amongst other advantages not, to be sure, unalloyed, which the
law against simony in some degree secures--such as the less frequent
purchase of livings at high prices, for which interest of money would
be sought by an exaction of dues to the uttermost farthing, to the sure
destruction of the pastoral character--such as the better chance hereby
offered to meritorious men without influence, of finding a patron when
the temptation he would be otherwise under to sell rather than give,
is partly taken out of his way;--besides these advantages there is
another, and not the least, in the skreen which it interposes between
the church, and the market, and the total confusion which it prevents
between the things of men and the things of God.

Henry proved himself an apt scholar in the lessons which the
incautious, not to say unlawful, practice of the church of Rome taught
him. And so successfully had he overcome all primitive notions of the
honour due to sacred things, that even before the dissolution, he seems
to have converted many monasteries into stables; a scandal of which
honest Latimer did not fail to remind him publicly; conceiving it a
monstrous thing; that “abbeys, which were ordained for the comfort of
the poor,” should be kept for the king’s horses; nor convinced of the
contrary by the nobleman (who seems to have been ripe to become an
impropriator, as very likely he did) who said to him, “What hast thou
to do with the king’s horses?--horses be the maintenance and part of
a king’s honour and also of his realm; wherefore, in speaking against
them, ye are speaking against the king’s honour.”[266]

Cranmer was not (as may be well believed) an unconcerned spectator of
this great revolution in the possessions of the church; but though he
agreed with Cromwell in the desire of the dissolution, he differed from
him with regard to the application of the proceeds. Indeed, the views
they respectively took of the nature of ecclesiastical property do not
appear to have coincided. The one was rather acting in a political,
the other in a religious spirit. Cromwell was concerned to right the
monarchy, Cranmer to save a church. The former was for the suppression
of the religious houses, because the supremacy of the crown could not
be otherwise secured; the latter had this for his object too, but
still more the annihilation of the abuses of purgatory, masses for the
dead, saint-worship, and pilgrimage, of all which the abbeys were the
incorrigible patrons. So far, therefore, they went hand in hand. But in
the disposal of the vast fund which accrued from the confiscation of
the church estates, Cranmer did not, like Cromwell and the parliament,
regard it as a matter for the king to take his pastime with, according
to his own mere will and motion.[267] Nor would he dissipate, nor did
he think it lawful to divert from its original destination, and that
the promotion of God’s glory, so ample a revenue, and make it over at
once, and for secular purposes only, to the crown. He, therefore, was
for considering it as still a sacred treasure, to be applied to sacred
ends; and out of the old and corrupted monasteries he was desirous
to see arise new and better foundations: houses attached to all the
cathedrals, to serve as nurseries for the clergy of the diocese in
religion and learning; an addition made to the incomes of the inferior
class;[268] and the number of sees increased, with a corresponding
diminution in their extent, that the bishop might be in deed as well
as in name the overseers.[269] To these wise and good propositions
Latimer added another, no less commendable, that a few of the greater
abbeys should be left for pious and charitable uses. For the priory
of Malvern, above all, he intercedes with great earnestness, not that
it “should stand in monkery, but so as to be converted to preaching,
study, and prayer;” and then he adds, “Alas! my good Lord” (it is to
Cromwell that he makes his fruitless appeal), “shall we not see two
or three in every shire changed to such remedy?”[270] In suggesting
these and similar measures, the reformers felt that they had right on
their side. Whether the property of the church had not accumulated to
an amount inconvenient to the state, as unduly narrowing the limits
within which other professions were left to walk, may be doubted; and
therefore Cranmer, with his usual moderation, consented that the king
should resume the lands which the piety (or, as it would be now said,
the superstition,) of his ancestors had granted to ecclesiastics, and
dispose of them as seemed best to him. But they felt also, that church
endowments in general, and tithes in particular, were goods set apart
for the promotion of religion from time immemorial, the possessor of
a manor erecting upon it a church, and charging it for ever with the
maintenance of a man whose business it should be to teach the people
upon it the law of God, and thus acknowledging on his own part his
tenure to be under God, “the land His, and himself a stranger and
sojourner with Him.”[271] This was the origin of parishes; the parish
co-extensive (as it is still almost always found) with the manor, so
that even where the latter chances to have a part distant and detached,
the parish, however inconvenient it may be for pastoral superintendance
and instruction, usually claims it too. The fulfilment of the
conditions annexed to these grants, it was only equitable that the
donor and his heirs should exact and regulate; they were the natural
guardians of the charities; and when the lapse of years, the course of
events, and public convenience, had caused this guardianship to devolve
upon the state, the state, like any other guardian, had a right to
superintend the trust so as to carry into effect the designs of the
donor, but no right whatever to alienate it, apply it to purposes of
its own, and thereby frustrate those intentions. It had a right, for
instance, to provide the best religious instruction which was to be
had, even though it was such as the benefactor had not contemplated;
and to exclude such as was found, on a more intimate knowledge of the
subject, to be erroneous, even though it was such as the benefactor had
sanctioned; it being obvious that his intention was to guide, not to
mislead, those for whom he had shown so lively an interest; but it had
no right to withhold all religious instruction whatever, dispose of the
trust to the best bidder, and putting the produce in its pocket, say
that it was corban. If a professorship of astronomy had been founded
by some lover of the science when the system of Ptolemy was in the
ascendant, surely the trustees of his foundation would be thought to
satisfy his manes best by giving it to a man who would now show his
pupils a more excellent way, and that Newton was right and Ptolemy
wrong; though contrary to the ill-informed notions of the founder
himself; and though he, like the Jesuits,[272] would possibly have
denounced the innovation as heretical; but they would not be thought
to execute their trust to his satisfaction or to their own credit, if
they voted astronomy in general to be mere moonshine, and spent the
fund that was set apart for its encouragement in an annual dinner. Yet
this is the doctrine with regard to the responsibility of the state
for the due preservation of the church establishment which is often in
these days preached, as though the state were _owners_ of church
property instead of its _trustees_, and it was lawful for the
state to do what it would with that which it never gave, and which it
never had to give.[273] But might overcomes right--

    There is a simple plan,
    That they shall take, who have the power,
    And they shall keep who can.

And accordingly the council of Cromwell prevailed with the king and the
courtiers, and Cranmer and Latimer had nothing to do but to submit and
make the most of such resources as were left. Indeed, the whole aspect
of the Reformation exhibits marks of the conflict of principles, under
which it was brought about. The best and the worst men were busy in
promoting it, each party with a purpose of their own; and its graces
and imperfections alike testify that the hands which were concerned in
it were not of one fashion; that its walls, like those of the second
Jerusalem, arose amidst fightings from without, “the builders every
one having his sword girded by his side, and so building.”[274] Happy,
indeed, it was that such master-builders were to be found: had not
this wise and conservative party been at hand, a party intent upon
what could be spared as well as what must be sacrificed--what could
be restored, as well as what must be destroyed utterly--the vulgar
handlers of axe and hammer would have cast all to the ground, and the
country would have risen from its paroxysm, rid indeed of superstition,
but with nothing for a substitute, and the latter state of the nation
would have been worse than the first. As it was, the troubled fountain
of the Reformation sent forth streams, the one of sweet, the other
of bitter waters, and as the principles of the blessed martyrs, who
acted in it their immortal parts, issued out in the establishment of a
church of apostolic doctrines, so did other principles, now stirred,
find their consummation (if indeed they found it then) in the eventual
subversion of that church, and with it, of the throne.

The progress of the Reformation was attended (as all great national
convulsions are) with many and sad excesses. The work of destruction,
when long continued, is in itself a thing which hardens the heart and
the Reformation was full of it. Monk and nun turned out of house and
home, pensioned indeed, but (except in the case of superiors, who
were treated with more lenity) pensioned with a miserable equivalent;
their dwelling-places, beautiful as many of them were, laid low,
that all hope of return might be cut off, their cells surrendered
to the bats and owls; their chapels made a portion for foxes, the
mosaic pavements torn up, the painted windows dashed in pieces, the
bells gambled for, or sold into Russia and other countries,[275]
though often before they reached their destination buried in the
ocean--all and utterly dismantled, save, where, happening to be parish
churches, also, as was the case at St. Alban’s, Tewkesbury, Malvern,
and elsewhere, they were rescued in whole, or in part, from Henry’s
harpies, by the petitions or the pecuniary contributions of the pious
inhabitants;[276] libraries, of which most monasteries contained one,
treated by their new possessors with barbaric contempt; “some books
reserved for their jakes, some to scour their candlesticks, some to
rub their boots, some sold to the grocers and soap boilers, and some
sent over the sea to book-binders, not in small numbers, but at times
whole shipsful, to the wondering of foreign nations; a single merchant
purchasing at forty shillings a piece two noble libraries to be used
as gray paper, and such as having already sufficed for ten years were
abundantly enough (says the eye-witness whose words are here quoted)
for many years more;[277] these were some of the coarser features of
those times; howbeit there were many besides these. For the churches
were now treated with gross irreverence; horses and mules were led
through them; they were profaned by dogs and hawks, by doves and owls,
by stares and choughs;[278] they were plundered of their plate by
churchwardens, or other powerful parishioners,[279] who might argue,
that if they spared, others would spoil; or who might wish ill to the
cause of the Reformation, and take such means to scandalise it. London,
says Latimer, was never so full of ill; charity was waxen cold in it.
“Oh, London, London,” cries this earnest old man, “repent, repent! for
I think God more displeased with London, than he ever was with the city
of Nebo.”[280] Such was the profligacy of its youth, that he marvels
the earth gaped not to swallow it up. There were many that denied the
immortality of the soul, and the existence of a heaven or hell.[281]
Manly sports and pastimes had been exchanged for the gaming-table.
Divorces, even amongst the inferior classes of society, were become
common; for, marriage being declared no sacrament, probably many
chose to interpret the declaration to mean that it was no bond.[282]
The elementary bread of the eucharist was expressed by base indecent
nicknames.[283] The alehouses were filled with profane disputants upon
the mysteries of our faith, and the dissolute scoffers made songs upon
them;[284] “Green Sleeves,” “Maggy Lauder,” and “John Anderson my Jo,”
with numbers more, were all of this class of composition; and psalms
(in this instance, perhaps, without any intentional levity) were set
to hornpipes. To crown all, a multitude of disaffected persons were at
large in the country, speaking evil of the dignities, and exciting the
idle, the hungry, and the aggrieved, to riot and rebellion; bearding
the government with audacious demands of changes, both civil and
ecclesiastical, to be made at their pleasure, couched in language the
most imperative and insolent; “such,” Cranmer observes in his answer to
them, “as was not at any time used of subjects to their prince since
the beginning of the world.”[285]

Meanwhile, and in the midst of this general relaxation of morals, the
fanatic was abroad: it was the very field for him; the standing corn
of the Philistines was not better fitted for the foxes and firebrands.
There were Predestinarians, who preached that the elect could not sin,
nor the regenerate fall from grace. Their religion, says a chaplain
of Cranmer, “consisted in words and disputations; in Christian acts
and goodly deeds nothing at all.”[286] There were Antinomians, who
taught that the “chosen” were at liberty to help themselves to such a
share of this world’s goods as their necessities required; and that
however they might sin in their outward man, in the inner they sinned
not.[287] There were Anabaptists, who, besides their theological dogma,
acknowledged no judge or magistrate, no right of war or of capital
punishment.[288] There were Fifth-monarchy men.[289] There were Arians.
There were Unitarians, who denied the divinity of the second and third
persons of the Trinity, and limited the benefits of Christ’s coming to
the knowledge he gave mankind of the true God.[290] There were men of
the family of _Love_, or Davidians as they were called from one
David George who made himself sometimes Christ, and sometimes the Holy
Ghost.[291] There were Libertines, of whose precise tenets we are not
informed, together with other sects, some of native, some of exotic
growth, but all combining a little sedition with not a little conceit.

Here, then, were the beginnings of sorrows laid up in store for the
hapless Charles, and the church of which he was the head, and, in
his later and more sobered years, the ornament. Now was the nation
fly-blown; and it was only wanted that the days should be fulfilled
when the hornets would take wing, and sting it into madness. So true
it is that the sin of a government, like that of an individual, does
eventually find it out. Long it may tarry before it manifests itself
in its effects, but a century in the life of a nation is but a span;
and he who destroyed the Amalekites in the time of Saul for the
transgression of the Amalekites in the time of Moses, suffering his
wrath to sleep four hundred years, and then to burst out, is still the
God of the nations, and deals with them still after the same fashion,
though the natural consequences of the offence may serve Him for
the ministers of his tardy vengeance. For what had the church under
its new discipline and organisation to oppose to these restless and
inquisitive spirits? Could it not meet the evil, and extinguish it,
whilst it was yet done in the green tree? Alas! its clergy were unfit
for so delicate and difficult a work. The Reformation, owing to the
violence which had attended and disgraced a noble cause, had depressed
them as a body; doubtless there were of their number many most able
men; none greater than some of them have been since born of woman;
but with the generality it was very far otherwise. The impropriation
system now began to tell its tale. The universities and schools had
been comparatively deserted. It was with extreme difficulty that men
could now be found to preach at Paul’s Cross, once the object of so
much clerical ambition. About the year 1544, Bonner writes to Parker,
then master of Corpus, importuning him to send him help from Cambridge,
and expressing his surprise that candidates should be lacking for such
an office.[292]--“I think there be at this day,” says Latimer, in the
middle of Edward VI.’s reign, “ten thousand students less than were
within these twenty years.”[293] The clerical profession no longer held
out the same inducements to men of liberal acquirements and liberal
minds to enter it. A very considerable proportion of the parishes of
England were served by priests utterly ignorant and unlettered. The
patrons had given their benefices to their menials as wages; to their
gardeners, to the keepers of their hawks and hounds--these were the
incumbents;[294] or else, they had let in fee both glebe and parsonage,
so that whoever was presented would have neither roof to dwell under
nor land to live upon, but too happy if his vicarial tithes afforded
him a chamber at an alehouse, and the worshipful society of the
dicers and drinkers who frequented it;[295] nay, perhaps himself the
landlord.[296] The questions addressed by Bishop Hooper to his clergy
on his primary visitation are but too sadly characteristic of the
condition of these shepherds of the people:--“How many commandments?
Where written? Can you say them by heart? What are the articles of the
Christian faith? Can you repeat them? Can you recite the Lord’s Prayer?
How do you know it to be the Lord’s Prayer?”[297] Were these the men to
uphold church and state, and in critical times too? or rather were they
not the men to render both contemptible in any times?

The rising party of the Puritans, an active minority, busy rather
than powerful in the Scriptures, given to subtle and unprofitable
questions, would scoff at such preachers, and teach their hearers to
scoff at them too, and this they not only could do, but did; and with
the more mischievous effect, because (as it has been already said) the
districts best peopled and most intelligent, the towns, were precisely
the very poorest livings in the kingdom, and were, therefore, the very
worst supplied with ministers;[298] if, indeed, they were supplied
at all, and not rather abandoned to whatever wolf might feel disposed
to make the fold his prey, the laity themselves actually left to
bury their own dead.[299] The deep lasting wound which such a clergy
inflicted upon the character and credit of the church is scarcely to
be described. It had not recovered itself in the days of Herbert, who
was thought by his worldly-minded friends “to have lost himself in an
humble way” when he took orders; and who himself (which is more to
the purpose), unambitious of distinction as he was become, casually
speaks of his profession in his “Country Parson” as one of general
ignominy.[300] It required the Augustan age of our divines--the age
of a Hall, an Andrews, a Hammond, a Sanderson, a Taylor, a Barrow a
South--to interpose itself, in order that public opinion, viewing the
Church of England through such a medium, might be compelled to do it
tardy justice, and at length to reverence an establishment which had
given birth to so much piety, so much learning, so much genius, so much
wisdom, and so much wit.

Nor was it merely the ignorance of churchmen that gave the rising
sectaries such advantage;--there was treachery in the camp. Many of the
old clergy, conforming to the innovations that had been made, (indeed,
during Henry’s reign, those in doctrine were not very considerable,)
still occupied the pulpits, but without any love for their present
position. On the contrary, it was naturally not unpleasant to them to
see the elements of discord let loose, and like the “anarch old,” to
watch the strife in silence, by which they might themselves hope in
the end again to reign. Homilies were provided, that sound, and at
any rate harmless, doctrine might be propounded to the people. They
were, however, often but “_homely_ handled,” to speak in Latimer’s
vein;[301] for “if the priest were naught, he would so hack and chop
them, that it was as good for his hearers to be without them for any
word that should be understood.” Neither were these conformists the
most intelligent of the Roman Catholic teachers; on the contrary, they
were in general of the mendicant orders, their recommendation being
that they would work cheap, and spare the pocket of the patron. Neither
were they the most reputable; for, as a further proof of the honest
motives which had actuated many in their spoliation of the church,
the very men who had been denounced as unfit to live whilst they were
monks, were now inducted into benefices and stalls by the parties to
whom the spiritual welfare of the people, forsooth, had been so dear
an object, in order that they might be thus relieved from the payment
of the pitiful pension with which their property was charged for their
support.[302]

These are miserable and disgusting details; but if they are so to
write and read, what must they have been to Cranmer and his colleagues
to witness! How must their righteous souls have been vexed! Those
persons who give to our reformers credit for the courage which they
displayed in the flames, and regard their sufferings as confined
to their martyrdom, do them poor justice. To jostle with so many
offensive obstacles for so many long years; to persevere unto the end
in the midst of so much to thwart, to disappoint, to irritate; to
feel themselves earnest, sincere, and single-hearted, and to have to
encounter so much hypocrisy, double-dealing, and pretence; to work
their weary way through a sordid and mercenary generation, who had
a zeal for God’s service on their tongues, but who in their hearts
admired nothing of heaven save the riches of its pavement; to see the
goodly fruits of all their labours likely to perish through sectarian
divisions, which might very probably have been healed by timely
precaution, and the adoption (at some cost to be sure) of measures
which they were the first to recommend; these were trials by that slow
fire of temptation which it requires a stout heart and a high principle
to sustain, and though there might be many (as Milton ungenerously and
ungratefully puts it) who would give their bodies to be burned, if the
occasion demanded it, yet there would be few, who, so tried, would find
themselves so unweary in well-doing.

They, however, have their reward; and it was a noble prize for which
they struggled. They are themselves gone to heaven in their chariot
of fire, and to their country they have bequeathed as a mantle, a
free use of the Bible, a reasonable faith, a pure ritual, principles
of toleration, liberty of conscience, and that virtue which goeth
out of all these things, whereby a nation is made to put forth
its otherwise dormant strength in the prosecution of commerce of
manufactures, of agriculture, of science, and of whatever else belongs
to inextinguishable enterprise.




                              CHAPTER IX.

   CROMWELL.--GARDINER.--BONNER.--THE ACT OF THE SIX
   ARTICLES.--SERMONS OF THOSE DAYS.--PROPOSED DISPOSAL OF
   ECCLESIASTICAL PROPERTY.--ARTICLES OF 1536.--THE BIBLE IN
   CHURCHES.--BISHOPS’ BOOK.--KING’S BOOK.


The two great measures of the supremacy, and the suppression of the
abbeys had been carried, but with haste and no small violence; and now
came the recoil. It pertained to the king’s prerogative that the pope
should be deposed, and to his exchequer that the monasteries should be
despoiled; so far, therefore, Henry was a cordial reformer. Churchwork
is said in general to go up on crutches, and to come down post; and
the present case furnishes no exception to the proverb: for now the
king well nigh deserted the cause in which he had been so actively
engaged; and having undone so much of the old religion, was disposed
to do nothing for the new; but, betaking himself to catholic advisers,
surrendered himself for the most part into their hands during the
remainder of his reign. For though we shall have occasion to notice
some acts of grace towards the reformed faith, they are few and feeble,
suggested by a passing wish to preserve something of consistency, by
momentary caprice, or by the force of conflicting parties, which,
causing him to fall into a place where two seas met, constrained him at
least to be still.

The abbeys had scarcely been disposed of, when Cromwell, the political
agent of the reformation, and the individual who had succeeded to
the greatest share of Wolsey’s influence over the king, fell into
disgrace. After the untimely death of Jane Seymour, he had ventured
(a measure requiring as much personal courage as the suppression of
the monasteries) to negotiate a match for his capricious master; a
match which, it was thought, would bind Henry still more closely with
the Protestant cause, by connecting him with the Lutheran princes of
Germany. But Cromwell’s good genius had here forsaken him; Anne of
Cleves was not found to answer to the agreeable portrait which Holbein
had painted of her; on the contrary, she was illfavoured; moreover
she spoke Dutch, a language of which the king was ignorant; and had
never learned music, of which he was passionately fond. Henry became
disgusted, and Cromwell’s position became precarious. Other ostensible
causes were of course put forward to justify the ruin of this minister;
treason and heresy were the stalking-horses, but the marriage was the
snare--“The weight that pulled him down was there.” That Henry gave him
an earldom after this period, is true enough; it might be to throw dust
in the eyes of the suspicious; it certainly proved but a garland to
deck the victim for the altar. And now Gardiner, bishop of Winchester,
“that fox” who had been long upon the watch to supplant him, saw that
his opportunity was come, and profited by it. Gardiner and Cromwell had
known each other from early years, having been brought up together,
and of nearly the same standing in the household of cardinal Wolsey;
but there was not room upon the stage for both of them at a time; and
Cromwell having soon on his part declared for the Reformation, had the
king with him; and whilst this was the case, the churchman lay by.
Cromwell seems to have owed him no good-will, and to have taken no
pains to disguise his sentiments. Having the king’s ear, he sent Bonner
to supersede him as ambassador in France; and from the letters of that
monster (as time-serving then as he was afterwards bloody-minded),
and which are all meant to play up to the known tastes or prejudices
of his patron, it is plain enough that Gardiner was disliked and
distrusted by Cromwell, whom he in his turn was as studious to affront
by the insults which he heaped upon this his mean-spirited vassal,
and the savage ill-humour with which he resigned to him his office.
He returned, however, to England; and as a man changes his latitude,
but not his temper, who crosses the seas, Gardiner still continued
to be a thorn in Cromwell’s side; and on a comparison of dates, it
will be seen that he had scarcely set foot in England before a change
began to manifest itself in the counsels of the king, and Cromwell’s
influence, even long before he was attainted, to decline. What, indeed,
could induce the latter to be instrumental to his recall from France
(as Fox implies he was), and thereby to put his enemy in a situation
where he could do him more mischief, it is vain at this time of day to
inquire; but it seems probable that Gardiner was thought to be playing
a game of his own in his master’s service; and to be accommodating the
foreign relations of his country to a policy that suited himself, or
at least the cause which he had at heart.[303] But in truth it must
have been a very difficult matter for a minister of those times to have
found the right place for the bishop of Winchester, whose talents were
such, that it was alike unsafe to use or to refuse them. The character
of this double-edged tool the king had learned to appreciate when it
was too late; and on making a fresh will shortly before his death,
showed no disposition to meddle with it more, by excluding Gardiner
from the number of his executors (for in a former will, which was now
cancelled, his name was found amongst them), and on being reminded
of the omission by Sir Anthony Browne, he replied, that he had acted
advisedly, seeing that “if he were in his testament he would cumber
them all.”[304]

Gardiner, however, once dominant, maintained the ascendency of the
Romish party and principles to the last of Henry’s reign. He had,
indeed, powerful coadjutors. The Howards were devoted to the same
cause; and the natural influence of that distinguished house was then
accidentally increased by the alliance which the king was about to form
with one of its members. Then, again, he strengthened himself by the
king’s fears. If he found him making any demonstrations of a nearer
approach to the Reformers, he could threaten him with the displeasure
of the emperor, and picture to him the jealousy with which he was
already regarded by the European powers, as the royal ringleader of
heresy. The expectation too of a general council shortly to be held
for the settlement of religious differences, and which finally fixed
itself at Trent, threw its weight into the same scale. Henry might
think it his policy not to commit himself farther with the faithful
sons of the church till the storm was overpast. Not was it a slight
matter in favour of Gardiner, that the king, in a rash hour, had
become an author; that his sentiments on the leading doctrines of the
Reformers were put upon irrevocable record; and that now to flinch
from his positions would be to resign the laurels which his reputed
scholarship had won for him; and, what was still less to his taste,
would be to pronounce that in matters of opinion even he himself was
not infallible. No man was better qualified to take advantage of these
or any other incidents which might make for his object than Gardiner,
the most astute politician of his time; while Cranmer, on the other
hand, had nothing to oppose to him but the spirit of an Israelite
indeed, alike unfit for contriving plots himself, or for discovering
them in another; for of him it might have been said; as it was said of
one of his most conspicuous successors in the see of Canterbury (though
a character upon the whole very different from his), that “too secure
in a good conscience, and most sincere worthy intention, with which no
man was ever more plentifully replenished, he thought he could manage
and discharge the place and office of the greatest minister in the
court without any other friendship or support than what the splendour
of a pious life and his accomplished integrity would reconcile to
him; which was an unskilful measure,” adds the great historian, whose
experience it is presumptuous to question, yet whose conclusion it
is painful to admit, “in a licentious age, and may deceive a good
man in the best of times that shall succeed; which exposed him to
such a torrent of adversity and misery, as we shall have too natural
an occasion to lament in the following discourse, in which it will
be more reasonable to enlarge of his singular abilities and immense
virtue.”[305] Soon had Cranmer reason to exclaim of those now admitted
into the king’s counsels, “Ye are too hard for me!” for now is past the
act of the Six Articles (the whip with six strings as it was called),
the death-warrant of so many innocent men, whereby, 1. the doctrine
of transubstantiation was established by law; 2. the communion in
both kinds excluded; 3. the marriage of priests forbidden; 4. vows of
celibacy declared obligatory; 5. private masses for souls in purgatory
upheld; and 6. auricular confession pronounced expedient, and necessary
to be retained. The penalties annexed to the breach of these decrees
being for the first, to be burnt as a heretic, for the others to be
hanged as a felon, and in all cases to forfeit lands and goods to the
king as a traitor. Against these sanguinary articles Cranmer lifted up
his voice in parliament for three days together in vain. He, on that
occasion, was acknowledged by his opponents to have played a noble
part; and the king, whose redeeming virtue it was to deal kindly with
this single-hearted man, expressed his sense of the zeal, the honesty,
and the learning with which he had withstood court and parliament to
the face; by commanding the chief lords to dine with the archbishop
at Lambeth after the bill was passed, and to “signify unto him that
it was the king’s pleasure that all should in his Highness’ behalf
cherish, comfort, and animate him.”[306] The king, who understood
the beauty of his character, was faithful to his pledge, however
faithless were some of his messengers; and within two years after,
when two several attempts were made--the one by the clergy, the other
by the council, and both probably by Gardiner--to bring the archbishop
under the operation of this cruel act, and so to run him down, Henry
generously interposed, and casting his sceptre before the pack that
was open-mouthed to tear this noble quarry in pieces, called them off,
and rescued the victim.[307] It is singular, and characteristic of the
man, and of his unsuspicious temperament, that in both instances his
sovereign was the first person to apprise him of his danger; in the
one case calling him into his barge, as he passed by Lambeth Bridge,
and addressing him--“O my chaplain, now I know who is the greatest
heretic in Kent,” and thereupon putting him in possession of the
charges of his accusers, and giving him directions for vindicating his
own innocence, and bringing his enemies to shame; in the other case
sending for him out of bed at midnight, and acquainting him that the
council had demanded his commitment to the Tower, as being one who
sowed heresy and sedition throughout the realm, and that the next
day the deed was to be done. What follows is a scene of very touching
beauty, whether as given by Fox or Strype; and as the incident is
full of dramatic effect, it is happy that Shakspeare has set upon it
his own mark, and thereby rescued it from the clownish hand of any
ordinary playwright. At the same time it may be remarked, that his
characters have their parts allotted to them without any very strict
attention to historical fidelity, and sometimes in violation of it.
Whether our poet like those of Italy, both ancient and modern, had his
own favourites amongst the great of the country, and so doled out his
measures of immortality or infamy accordingly--whether the popularity
of the reigning queen did not influence the estimation in which the
memory of her father’s courtiers was held; or whether, which is the
most probable, Shakspeare, with his usual indifference to the minuter
matters of his drama, did not put words into the mouths of his speakers
somewhat at random, and without much concern as to their being strictly
the property of the individual bishop, earl, or duke, who was made to
utter them--suffice it to say, in the language of our martyrologists,
that when the king had spoke his mind, the archbishop kneeled down and
said, “I am content, if it please your Grace, with all my heart to go
thither at your Highness’s commandment; and I most humbly thank your
Majesty that I may come to my trial; for there be that have in many
ways slandered me, and now this way I hope to try myself not worthy of
such report.” The king, perceiving the man’s uprightness, joined with
such simplicity, said, “Oh Lord! what a man be you! what simplicity is
in you! I had thought that you would rather have sued to us to have
taken the pains to have heard you and your accusers together for your
trial, without any such endurance. Do you know what state you be in
with the whole world and how many great enemies you have? Do you not
consider what an easy thing it is to procure three or four false knaves
to witness against you? Think you to have better luck that way than
your master Christ had!”[308]

With these and other words to the same effect, the king gave him his
ring, which in case of extremity he might produce at the council, and
by virtue of it appeal to Cæsar. He did so, and thus Cranmer escaped
out of their hands. But all had not the same friend, nor therefore
the same fortune; for it is to be observed, that the commissioners
appointed to carry the Six Articles into execution did not confine
their investigations to offences coming directly under the act, but,
erecting themselves into a kind of inquisition-general, they took
cognisance of all that was done after a manner which they called
heresy, whatever it might be; and neglect of confession in Lent,
absence from church, forbearing to creep to the cross on Good Friday,
neglecting the use of the rosary, eating meat at interdicted seasons,
and the like, were all misdemeanors fetched within the compass of this
cruel dragnet of the Six Articles. Accordingly, the prisons of London
were gorged with culprits;[309] for now an opportunity was afforded of
raking up old suspicions, and putting all upon their purgation. Many
are the affecting stories of those days which have come down to us;
glimpses of the domestic troubles of an age called so loudly to bear
the cross. The meetings by stealth amongst the friends of the common
cause, amongst the brethren (as they named themselves, after the manner
of the early Christians); a fraternity, for instance, of students at
Oxford, not, like Wesley’s little society in the same place, taking
joyfully the persecution of a tolerant age, which conferred distinction
at an easy rate; but adopting every precaution to walk unseen, and
all not enough; trusting their lives to each other’s hands; abetting
the escape; supplying the disguise; recommending the fugitive to
some distant and less suspected brother; kneeling with him before he
went his way, to beg God’s blessing upon his enterprise, bidding him
farewell with sorrowful heart and sad foreboding that they should see
his face in the flesh no more; baffling the inquiry of the pursuer;
risking the character and fate of an accomplice; braving the rack
rather than betray the innocent blood; dying by inches in the dungeon,
the feet in the stocks, or the neck and legs trussed together by some
devilish engine (“the devil on the neck”) which contracted with the
writhings of the sufferer, till his frame was crushed within its iron
grasp;[310]--these are some of the silent horrors of those dreadful
days, of which it is impossible to read, without thankfulness to
Providence that our lot has been cast on times of greater charity; and
without confessing that, grievous as the evil is of capricious division
upon religious questions, it is far less than that of barbarous
coercion to unanimity; and bad as the spirit is, wherever it exists,
which would preach Christ only of envy and strife, it is after all
better than that which would make a way for his reception by fire from
heaven.

But though many of the reformers thus kept their opinions to
themselves, or only communicated them to their confidential companions,
and when the doors were shut; there were others of a more intrepid
spirit, who saved the commissioners the necessity of resorting to
force or fraud for their conviction by publicly contending for the
faith, and even carrying the war into the enemy’s borders. A martyr of
this kind was Dr. Barnes; he preached openly at Paul’s Cross, where
he upheld the doctrine of justification by faith only, (a tenet that
seems to have been almost as unpalatable to the Roman catholics as a
renunciation of transubstantiation itself,) and challenged Gardiner
to the controversy, against whom indeed this sermon was directed,
in reply to one which he had delivered from the same popular pulpit
shortly before. There is a passage in his discourse very expressive of
the rude style of preaching which in those days prevailed, and which
the friars in Italy, and probably elsewhere, have not yet entirely
abandoned. Barnes calls upon Stephen Gardiner by name to answer him;
alluding in “a pleasaunt allegory” (as John Fox expresses it--an
opinion to which the priests in Spanish America would still subscribe)
to a cock-fight, wherein he likens Gardiner to a fighting cock, and
himself to another, and reproaches his antagonist with lacking good
spurs, as being a _garden_-cock; then shifting his joke, he taxes him
with being a bad _gardener_, as having set evil herbs in the garden
of God’s Scriptures; and once more changing his weapon, he accuses
him of a want of logic and grammar-rules; alleging, in reference to
the act of the Six Articles, that if he had expressed himself in the
schools as he had done at the Cross, he would have given him six
stripes.[311] Latimer’s sermons, almost the only complete specimens
we have of the pulpit oratory of that time, are full of the same
familiar, not to say mean, images,--tales of Robin Hood, or of the
Godwin Sands, or of an execution at Oxford, or of the woman going to
church at St. Thomas of Acres, because she could not get a wink of
sleep in any other place--mixed up with puns the most idle and similes
the most unsavoury.[312] Two other sermons we have seen of the same
date, by one Thomas Lewer, a master of St John’s College, Cambridge,
preached the one at Paul’s Cross, the other before the king, and
both in the year 1550, and these are not much less conversational in
their tone than those of Latimer. The coarse material of hortatory
theology at the Reformation and before it, imparts its character in
a degree to our Homilies, which, however full of sound doctrine and
wholesome advice, would often not a little shock the sense of ears
polite, were they to be faithfully delivered in our churches. And
later still, Fuller tells us, in his History of the University of
Cambridge, of a country parson in his time who preached at St. Mary’s
on the words, “God hath _dealt_ to every one the measure of faith”
(Rom. xii. 3.;) when, in a fond imitation, as he says, of Latimer’s
famous card sermons, he followed out the metaphor of _dealing_; that
men should play _above-board_, or avoid dissimulation; not _pocket_
the cards, or improve their gifts; _follow suit_, that is, wear the
surplice, and conform to ceremonies.[313] Jeremy Taylor sometimes
narrowly escapes the like extravagance. South approaches it still more
frequently, and almost with as little ceremony as would have been
used a century earlier; and even in the majestic and sober Barrow,
expressions, if not figures, occasionally startle us, as below the
dignity of the pulpit and the gravity of the Christian teacher. Even
he does not scruple to talk of “time rendering God’s goodness more
precious, as it doth gold and wine,”--of the difficulty of curing a
wounded reputation, and “spreading the plaster so far as the sore hath
reached,”--of “the fox who said that the grapes were sour, because he
could not reach them; and that the hare was dry meat because he could
not catch it,”--of the man who would have his sickle in another’s
corn, or an oar in another’s boat, being in no condition to wonder
if his fingers be rapped,”--of “liberality being the most beneficial
traffic that can be, seeing that it is bringing our wares to the best
market, and letting out our money to the best hands; God repaying
us with vast usury, an hundred to one being the rate he allows at
present, and above a hundred millions to one the rate he will render
hereafter, so that if we will be merchants this way, we shall be sure
to thrive.”[314] Soon after this time pulpit oratory began to go upon
stilts; and, becoming more remote from the conceptions and phraseology
of the vulgar, lost much of its interest with them, and influence over
them, and at length made way for the field preacher, who spoke to them
once again, as it were, in the Hebrew tongue, to which they gave the
more silence. Whilst, however, we may regret the want of the nervous
asperity of style and profusion of matter of the days of Barrow, we may
congratulate ourselves upon our escape from the old-wives’ tales of the
days of Latimer. They had their origin in a very different state of
society, and a very different condition of the church. Something must
be ascribed to the general rudeness of an age when bear-baiting was
the amusement which a queen provided for the foreign ambassadors, and
of which herself and her court were willing spectators;--when a fool
was a part of the establishment even of the most refined households,
and his uncouth jokes were paid for by the year;--when the martyr in
prison could in all sober sadness address words of comfort to his
fellow-sufferer, “_Green_,” as a dainty dish for the Lord’s own tooth;
or to _Philpot_, as “a pot filled with the most precious liquor;”--and
when at the stake, not think it out of character, or out of season,
to crack a jest upon his own dress or his own corpulence. Something,
again, must be imputed to the circumstances under which a preacher
before the Reformation, and indeed for many years subsequent to it,
delivered his sermon. It was very frequently in the open air that he
spake--from the steps of a cross, as at Paul’s Cross, the most famous
of the day; the congregation assembling around it, and only adjourning
to the “shrouds” (as some of the vaults of the church were called) when
the weather was unfavourable. Latimer’s sermons before Edward VI. were
preached in a garden of the palace of Westminster, the people having
admission, and the king hearing them from one of his windows.[315] The
effect of such an arrangement was, to divest sermons of all form; to
render them vernacular and colloquial: they were, in fact, what their
name indicates--not harangues, nor orations, but unwritten discourses,
or at most from notes,[316] and partook of all the characteristics
of ordinary discourse; the preaching from “bosom sermons,” or from
writing, being considered a lifeless practice before the Reformation,
and a fit subject of reproach; and the origin of it was, perhaps, no
other than an apprehension of the preacher in those days of jealousy,
lest he should be caught in his words, and misrepresented to those
in power, which induced him to commit his thoughts to paper; or a
determination of his superiors that he should be held to whatever he
uttered from the pulpit, which compelled him to do so.[317] Something
again, is to be referred to the connection which subsisted in Roman
Catholic times between the church and the stage. The Bible histories
were dramatised; a generation which had not the Scriptures to read,
and could not have read them if they had, were taught by theatrical
representation. It was upon this principle that the use of images
was defended: they were said to be the poor man’s books; and miracle
plays were actually performed in the churches. This ill-omened union,
however, without exalting the theatre, debased theology, and constantly
justified the apprehensions which Andrew Marvel expressed in the
particular instance of Paradise Lost, lest the poet

    “Should ruin (for he saw him strong)
    The sacred truths to fable and old song;”--

or lest,

        ----“if a work so infinite be spann’d,
    Jealous he was that some less skilful hand
    (Such as disquiet always what is well,
    And by ill imitating would excel)
    Might hence presume the whole creation’s day,
    To change in scenes, and show it in a play.”

Lastly, much of this coarseness and levity, which, according to our
present notions, seems to border on the profane, was to be put to
the account of the friars. They were the popular preachers of their
day. Their Lent sermons attracted multitudes; and as their order had
its very foundations laid in the taste of the many, its daily bread
depending upon the mites which were cast into the treasury, and
the amount of such contributions (individually so small) resulting
altogether from their number, no pains were spared to minister to the
vulgar appetite, on every occasion, such viands as were most palatable;
and the subtleties of the school doctors and their operose learning
gave way before the language, allusions, and illustrations of common
life; and the homely story and the broad joke mingled themselves with
subjects the most sacred. But whatever the cause might be, the style of
the Roman Catholic preacher was extremely familiar; and this fashion,
we have seen, had not entirely worn itself out in the first century
after the Reformation.

But to return to the thread of our narrative. Out of the examinations
and convictions that took place under the Six Articles one good
at least issued--that Cranmer appears to have been hereby led to
re-consider his opinion on transubstantiation. Hitherto it had been
strictly conformable to the doctrine of the church of Rome: he now
saw many intelligent men, powerful in the Scriptures, brought up as
offenders against this cardinal dogma, and heard them vindicate their
heterodoxy in a manner to make an impression upon a candid mind like
his own; so that by the end of the reign of Henry, his belief on this
article had undergone a change, and one of his earliest acts under
Edward was to avow and proceed upon it.

It has been said, that from the date of the dissolution of the
religious houses, the Reformation laboured in its progress. Even Henry
seems to have been appalled at the violent reaction which followed,
and to have held his hand. But those wise and good men whose object it
had been all along to save what they could of the wreck, out of which
to construct another ark, were still on the watch to promote the great
cause in which they were embarked, both by permanent institutions and
present instruction. Accordingly, whoever might be the advisers of
the measure, out of the spoils of the monasteries six new bishoprics
were now founded--those of Westminster (since suppressed), Chester,
Gloucester, Peterborough, Oxford, and Bristol, together with deaneries
and prebends respectively annexed, all slenderly endowed, and upon
the whole a sad falling off from the splendid expectations which the
king had originally held forth of eighteen new sees, together with a
proportional number of suffragrans--expectations which the act of
suppression had encouraged, and by which many were reconciled to the
confiscation of the church property, as hoping that it was only to
be fused and cast into a better mould. Its authors, however, “liked
not that paying again; it was a double trouble.” Accordingly they
compounded with the creditor, and the dividend (with the addition of
funds for the endowment of some of the metropolitan hospitals, a few
professorships in either university, and a college in Cambridge,) was
what we have seen. The cathedrals fared better than the monasteries;
having been hitherto in the hands of the regulars, they were now put
upon the same footing as the new institutions of the like kind, and
their revenues appropriated to the maintenance of secular dignitaries.
Here, however, the plan proposed by Cranmer, owing probably to the
opposition of the Roman Catholic party, was not adopted. In the
settling down of the establishment once more, it was his wish that
the cathedrals should be converted into theological colleges; that
readers of divinity, of Hebrew, and of Greek should be attached to
them; that a body of students should be maintained in them, out of
whom the bishops might always find clerical recruits duly qualified
for the pastoral office; that here, in short, should be realised a
second time the institution which Samuel (the great reformer of his
own church) established throughout all the land of Israel, “schools
of the prophets,” and that thus might be filled up most effectually
the gap which had been occasioned in the system of public instruction
by the extinction of the religious orders. What might have been the
effect of such a measure, which would have completed the Reformation
in an important particular where it was left greatly defective, it
may now be in vain to conjecture. Whether such establishments might
not have contributed to stave off the crisis which was at hand from
the puritans--a party then beginning to take a shape, and which owed
its rapid development to the ineffectual opposition presented to it
by a feeble and ignorant clergy--whether much schism and separation
of a more recent date might not have been escaped by the aspect
which these conspicuous pillars of orthodoxy would have presented in
different districts, and to which public opinion might have looked,
as to light-houses, for a guidance--whether, fertile as our church
has been in great divines, the harvest might not have proved still
more abundant when a regular theological education, comprising a sound
knowledge of Hebrew, of the Fathers, of whatever else might conduce
to the formation of the instructed scribe, fell systematically to
the lot of all who were intended for the ministry;--whether a cheap
education like this would not have afforded opportunities for youths
of promise amongst the poorer classes to emerge from obscurity, and
to enter a profession for which nature had fitted them, but accident
had shut to the door; whether the church would not have been a gainer
by the additional talent which would thus have been called forth in
her service, when the “yeoman’s sons,” by whom, according to Latimer,
“the faith in Christ had been hitherto maintained chiefly,” and “the
husbandman’s children,” who are often endowed (as Cranmer strenuously
argues upon this very subject) with singular gifts, would have sent in
their contribution to the public stock;--and whether that same cause
of attachment which bound the common people to the friars, and through
them to the church itself, namely, the feeling that they had a personal
interest and relationship in many of its ministers, would not have been
hereby more effectually perpetuated:--or, on the other hand, whether
such institutions might not have withdrawn the clergy too much from
all secular intercourse, and prevented those connections of private
friendship or private tuition from being formed, to which our schools
and universities give occasion;--whether the alliance between church
and state is not principally continued by such interlacements, and
would not be greatly weakened by their disruption;--whether, again,
the provision which our cathedrals (on their present footing) offer
to the younger sons of powerful families (as the monasteries once
did) does not pledge those families more deeply to the maintenance of
the establishment;--whether the rewards, again, which they enable the
church occasionally to confer on those who have done her good service
as men of letters may not contribute to create a learned clergy, by
furnishing the means of learned leisure--is altogether a problem which
it is much more easy to state than to solve.

Nor had the Reformers only to watch their opportunity for the
foundation of permanent institutions by which religion might be then
and for ever promoted; but whenever a favourable moment was afforded
for putting forth sound instruction to the people, they had to seize
upon it. During the reign of Henry this could only be done by being
instant in season, the season too being generally short, and always
precarious; liable to be affected by the character of a marriage, and
the duration of it; by a continental treaty; by a vote in parliament
satisfactory or the contrary; in short by the humour of a prince at
once in the highest degree capricious and resolute. Something, however,
was done; and we shall now gather up a few dropped stitches which we
have intentionally passed in this chapter, in order that our subject
might meet with no interruption.

The vulgar work of destruction did not prevail; even under Henry, to
the total exclusion of every other. In 1536, certain articles were set
forth by the convocation, and with the king’s authority, which had
for their title, “Articles devised by the Kinge’s Highness’ Majestie
to stablyshe Christen quietnes,” &c., much diversity of opinion
having sprung up in the country, as the preamble informs us, both
upon the essentials and ceremonials of which they treat. They are ten
in number, and rather indicate that a reformation was abroad, than
that it was achieved. They allow the use of images, but endeavour to
guard against their abuse; sanction prayers to the saints, but with a
caution against superstition; defend the doctrine of purgatory, though
with some hesitation, and with a positive rejection of pope’s pardons
and masses of _scala cœli_; assert the sacraments of penance,
baptism, and the Lord’s Supper; maintaining, with regard to the two
latter, that infants dying before baptism perish everlastingly, and
that the real body and blood of our Lord is present in the elements;
but justification on the ground of merit they disclaim altogether,
giving to Christ, and to Him only, the praise; and the faith of a
Christian they consider to be comprehended in the canonical Scriptures,
and the three creeds alone. It may be well to observe, inasmuch
as the observation throws some light upon the spirit in which the
formularies of our church were conceived, even at this remote period
of the Reformation, that Melancthon is with reason believed to have
had a voice in the Articles of 1536. So early as 1534 he was pressed
to come to England and assist in completing the regeneration of the
church; and invitations to the like effect continued to be forwarded to
him. In 1535 we find him suggesting, by letter to Henry, the necessity
of issuing a simple form of doctrine, such as might be agreed upon
by learned men; and at the same time adding, that Dr. Barnes, whom
he calls Antonius (afterwards the martyr but then Henry’s ambassador
in Germany,) had been “very carefully discussing with him _certain
articles_, to whom he had given his opinion upon them in writing.”
Certain it is that in the very next year these of King Henry came out,
and that the definition of justification contained in one of them is a
translation from the “Loci Theologici” of this Lutheran reformer.[318]

Nor was this all: the measure which was dealt out to the degenerate
Jews by Antiochus and his servants had, in a lower degree, long
obtained amongst the ecclesiastical powers in England. “When they
had rent in pieces the book of the law which they found, they burnt
them with fire; and wheresoever was found with any the book of the
testament ... the command was, that they should put him to death. Thus
did they by their authority unto the Israelites every month, to as
many as they found in their cities.”[319] But in the year 1537, the
whole Bible translated into English by Tindall, Rogers, and perhaps by
Coverdale[320] (the staple of all future editions,) bearing, however,
at first the title of Matthew’s Bible, the better to recommend it,
Tindall having recently died in the full odour of heresy, was published
in England; and by the influence of Cranmer and Cromwell, the king’s
license was procured that it should be freely bought and sold, and his
command issued that a copy of it should be set up in every church.
This was a day of rejoicing to the Archbishop Cranmer, greater, says
he, “than had there been given him a thousand pounds.”[321] Nor to
him only; the people, long thirsty for the word, now rushed to the
waters of life and drank freely: whosoever had the means bought the
volume; where the cost was too great for an individual, neighbours and
fellow-apprentices would unite purses and buy in common; a man would
be seen at the lower end of his church on a Sunday reading it aloud,
whilst numbers flocked about him to listen and learn; and the one
great topic of the time made its way even into taverns and alehouses,
where it seems to have been often the subject of vehement and angry
debate.[322]

The same year was distinguished by another work, calculated to advance
the Reformation a step farther. “The Institution of a Christian Man,”
or the _Bishops’ Book_, as it was called in popular language,
from the quality of those who were chiefly concerned in composing
it. It consists of an exposition of the Apostles’ Creed, the Seven
Sacraments, the Ten Commandments, the Pater-noster, the Ave Maria;
to which are annexed the two articles on Justification and Purgatory
(as they were published in 1536), the others having been inserted in
the body of the work under their respective heads. The mere index of
contents is enough to show that much still remained for the reformers
to do; still much was herein done. The corruption of man was strongly
asserted, his faculties as well as his appetites, his reason no less
than his will,[323] contrary to the doctrine of the schools, which had
limited its effects to the latter and lower half of our nature;[324]
the virtues of redemption were consequently vindicated, and were placed
in a position from which the dogma of merit had depressed them. The
superstitious attention to trifles of ceremonial, whilst the great
moral duties were disregarded, was rebuked--the dread, for instance, of
eating an egg on Friday, as contrasted with the indifference felt for
a breach of the most fundamental laws of charity.[325] The dishonest
substitution, in sermons, of fables and inventions of men, for the
Scriptures, was reproved, together with all wilful misrepresentation
of the doctrines contained in the same.[326] On the whole, this was
the culminating point of the Reformation, during the reign of Henry:
henceforward, that is, from the year 1538, with few intermissions, it
ostensibly, though perhaps not in reality, declined.[327]

In 1543 another work appeared, under the sanction of the king and
the convocation:[328] it had for its title, “A Necessary Doctrine
and Erudition for any Christian Man,” and was vulgarly called “the
_King’s Book_.”[329] It was, in fact, the _Bishops’ Book_
revised, with some additional matter touching free will, good works,
justification, predestination, purgatory--subjects which now began to
be discussed with great warmth and difference of opinion. On comparing
it with its prototype, it will be seen how far from progression
the Reformation had been during the interval. It came out, indeed,
whilst the act of the Six Articles was in force, and Gardiner in
power. The wonder, therefore, is, rather that it says so much, than
that it does not say more. The truth, however, seems to be, that it
was an act of compromise; a boon granted to the reformers (rendered
equivocal, indeed, by an infusion into it of the spirit of the Bishop
of Winchester),[330] in consideration of the sacrifice that was about
to be required of them; for the Bible in the vulgar tongue was now to
be once more withdrawn. To those “whose office it was to teach other,
the having, reading, and studying of Holy Scripture (it seems) was not
only convenient, but also necessary; but for the other part of the
church ordained to be taught, it ought to be deemed, certainly, that
the reading of the Old and New Testament was not so necessary for all
those folks.” For them it was enough to hear; and that nothing might
be wanting to convince, Scripture itself was quoted in support of
this sentiment--“Blessed are they that _hear_ the word of God,
and keep it;” where it is insinuated, for it would have been too bad
to affirm it, that the blessing attaches to those who _hear_,
not to those who read.[331] But if we meet with a stumbling-block on
the threshold of this new publication--for the passages alluded to
are in the preface--on further acquaintance with it we shall find our
suspicions, that Gardiner’s hand had been busy in it, strengthened.
The depravity of our nature, so stoutly insisted upon in the Bishops’
Book, is nearly overlooked in the parallel passage of the King’s
Book,[332] and the good offices of our Lord for the recovery of man
are set forth in a much less lively manner in the latter than in
the former place; where the one has enlarged upon the sufferings of
Christ chiefly as propitiatory, the other, though not disclaiming this
consideration, rather descants upon them as exemplary;[333] whilst
the one declares the condemnation of every man to be sufficiently
established, even though he were to be tried by the tenth commandment
alone, the other evades the humiliating confession;[334] when the one
denies even martyrdom to be a _meritorious_ cause of salvation,
and ascribes it altogether to the grace of God through Christ, the
other gives a different turn to the commentary, and escapes the
avowal:[335] in the one, the sacrament of matrimony is explained as
that which God commands to some, leaves free to all; in the other, a
clause is inserted, excepting from its provisions priests and others
under vows of celibacy:[336] in the one, the exposition of the second
commandment begins thus--“By these words we are utterly forbidden to
make or to have any similitude or image, to the intent to bow down to
it, or to worship it;” in the other--“By these words we be _not_
forbidden to make or to have similitudes or images, but only we be
forbidden to make or to have them to the intent to do godly honour
unto them, as it appeareth in the xxvith chapter of Leviticus.”[337]
It is true that the ulterior interpretation of the commandment in the
two cases does not differ so materially as might be expected from the
respective introductions; still the introductions are sufficient to
show that the spirit in which the commentaries were made was not, in
both instances, quite the same. Other examples of a similar declension
in the principles of the Reformation might be gathered from a close
comparison of these documents; at the same time, it would afford some
minute indications that a better knowledge of the Scriptures had been
meanwhile diffusing itself over the country, and that the six years
privilege of consulting them had not been altogether lost. Thus, it
may be remarked, that in the Bishops’ Book we read of “_one_
Pontius Pilate being the chief judge in Jerusalem;”[338] whereas
in the King’s Book the same individual is called “Pontius Pilate,”
&c.,[339] as though he were a character with which the people were more
familiar: again, in the former, the legend of binding “Christ fast to a
pillar,” and so crowning and scourging him, is inserted in the details
of his passion;[340] in the latter, this incident is omitted, and the
scriptural account is strictly followed.[341] It is singular, too,
that, in the one, the escape of “Lot and his _three_ daughters”
is spoken of; a mistake which the other corrects, his “_two_
daughters” being here the reading.[342]

In addition to the scanty means of instruction in a better faith
which were thus extorted from the king in his last years like drops
of blood, he was prevailed upon by Cranmer to issue orders for the
destruction of some favourite images, of which the superstitious
abuse was the most notorious[343]--those of our Lady of Walsingham,
our Lady of Ipswich, St. Thomas of Canterbury, and St. Ann of Buxton,
being the chief;[344] to sanction the introduction into the churches
of certain prayers or suffrages--the litany which we still use,
except that some objectionable clauses have been since omitted, being
of the number;[345] and to permit, moreover, the use of occasional
prayers, for the supply of temporary wants, or the removal of temporary
calamities--for rain or for fair weather--that thus the hearts of the
congregation might be enlisted in their devotions, and the lukewarmness
be counteracted, which was fast alienating them from public worship,
conducted, as it was, in a language of which they were ignorant,
though with errors of which they were aware.

Meanwhile, the same vigilant prelate supplied, as far as he had the
opportunity, the livings in his gift with men devoted to the cause
which he had at heart, and encouraged the more frequent delivery
of sermons; whereby, though much violent collision of doctrine was
produced amongst the preachers, still sparks of truth were elicited,
and light, though not without heat, was dispersed.[346]

Thus stood the Reformation, when Henry, who had now done all the work
which such an instrument was fit for, died, pressing in his last
moments the hand of Cranmer, to whom, and to whom only, through evil
report and through good report, he had ever been faithful and true. To
him he bequeathed a church which was little but a ruinous heap; its
revenues dissipated, its ministers divided, its doctrines unsettled,
its laws obsolete, impracticable, and unadapted to the great change it
had sustained.

It remains for us to trace the re-construction of these shattered
materials--to watch the wise master-builders as they pursued their
difficult task to its accomplishment; and beholding the pains, the
perseverance, the study, the time which it cost them, to distrust
the wild suggestions of an age of crude experiment and superficial
knowledge--an age which would rush in without knowing why, upon forms
and institutions which the sagest heads have grown gray in devising and
perfecting; and rather listen, as far as regards our church, to the
advice of the ancient, unpretending though it be--“Spartam nactus es,
hanc exorna.”




                              CHAPTER X.

   EDWARD VI.--ADVANCE OF THE REFORMATION.--ERASMUS’S
   PARAPHRASE.--HOMILIES.--CRANMER’S CATECHISM.--OFFICE OF
   COMMUNION.--BOOK OF COMMON-PRAYER.--TIME OF SERVICE, AND
   LENGTH.--PRIMER.--ARTICLES OF 1553.--MODERATION OF THE ENGLISH
   REFORMERS.


The accession of Edward, the Josiah of his country, as he was commonly
called in his own day, reanimated the Reformation; and during his
short reign it was that the church of England was constructed, in
the main, such as we now see it. The young prince, who was brought
up a protestant, was himself eminently calculated to recommend the
cause. His own character, both mental and moral, was a most persuasive
advocate of the system which had nurtured it. Cardan, who was called
into England to prescribe for the Archbishop of St. Andrews, then sick
of a dropsy, and was introduced to the king, now in his fifteenth year,
relates the particulars of a short conversation which he had with him
on the subject of comets, which won the heart of the philosopher,
and, like a journal which has come down to us written in his own
hand,[347] certainly argues in him a wit beyond his age. Latin he
spoke, says Cardan, who seems to have conversed with him in it, as
readily as himself; and in many other languages he is said to have been
a proficient, stimulated, perhaps, by an apophthegm of Roger Ascham,
his sister’s schoolmaster, though not his own, “that as a bird cannot
soar unto heaven with one wing, so cannot a man attain unto excellence
with one tongue.” Indeed, to a study of tongues, we are told by a
correspondent of his own, he had more applied than to any matter either
of history or of policy, the holy Scriptures excepted; nevertheless,
the pains which were taken to render him in all things an accomplished
prince may be seen in the questions (eighty-four in number) submitted
to him by the clerk of the council, probably at the desire of the
Protector Somerset; and which were intended as food for his private
speculations and debates with his friends. They are such as embrace
nearly all those principles of government upon which he would be
afterwards called to act--“Whether is better for the commonwealth that
the power be in the nobility or the people?” “How easily a weak prince
with good order may long be maintained; and how soon a mighty prince
with little disorder may be destroyed?” “What causeth an inheritor
king to lose his realm?” “Whether religion, besides the honour of God,
be not also the greatest stay of civil order?” “How dangerous it is
to be the author of a new matter?”[348]--with many other problems,
well worth the attention of those to whom the education of a sovereign
is confided. His heart was as good as his head; and as it is with
the latter that we believe, but with the former that we believe unto
righteousness, so did its natural dictates rise in arms against those
more subtle principles according to which Cranmer had conscientiously
persuaded himself, and endeavoured to persuade the king, that the death
of Joan of Kent was a duty; and happy would it have been for the memory
of that otherwise almost unspotted character, had he submitted his
more mature but more sophisticated judgment to the righteous tears of
this gifted boy. What he did, however, he did ignorantly; not in any
carnal zeal, but after long debate, and as he writes, in bitterness
and sorrow of spirit.[349] He did it in the temper in which Sir Matthew
Hale condemned the witches of Leostoff, and suffered judgment to be
executed upon them; though he represents himself most unaffectedly,
and most truly, as having in general such tenderness in cases of life
as almost disqualified him for the bench; and though Sir Thomas Brown,
who actually wrote against vulgar errors, was in court at the time,
and influenced by his voice the verdict of the jury.[350] But in this
case, Cranmer seems to have thought that the honour of Christ himself,
which was blasphemed, required an example to be made; and, weak and
wicked as it is now allowed to be to condemn to the flames for matters
of speculative opinion, which do not directly interfere with the morals
of society, and therefore do not demand the interposition of the
secular magistrate, it was the dogma of the church in which Cranmer had
been born and bred: from which even yet he had not wholly emancipated
himself; but to which Edward, happily for himself and his country, had
never been enslaved. The case of Van Paris the Dutchman is usually
coupled with this of Joan Bocher; but there is no sufficient proof
that Cranmer was here a party actively engaged, or that any blame is
due to him, unless it be that he did not intercede for his life. It is
singular, and characteristic of the force of early prejudice, that in
the touching confession which Cranmer made before he went to the stake,
no allusion is found to the case of this poor fanatic.

Such was the child to whose hand Providence committed the sceptre of
England for a short season, “Ostendunt terris hunc tantum fata;” and
accordingly the church had rest in those days. The Roman Catholic
party, which had so effectually clogged the wheels of the Reformation
in the latter years of Henry, did not resign their power without a
struggle under Edward. From amongst the guardians of the king, who were
also to be the governors of the kingdom during the minority, the Earl
of Hertford, afterwards Duke of Somerset, the king’s maternal uncle,
and a friend of the Reformation, was chosen head of the regency, under
the title of Protector; whilst Wriothesley, the lord chancellor, a
Catholic, and the leader of his sect, who opposed the elevation of
Somerset, hoping that, if all the members were equal in authority,
the substantial power would be his own, was deposed from his office,
and deprived of the seals. Cranmer was in his own right, as primate,
a member of this commission; and finding a cordial coadjutor in the
Protector, he now felt himself released from the vexatious restrictions
which had hitherto cramped him, and began for the first time to breathe
freely. Now, therefore, his plans for restoring the national church
rapidly develope themselves, and to the consideration of these our
attention must for the present be directed.

It would be easy to take a more extensive sweep of contemporary
history, as others have done, and to adorn our narrative with the
spoils--for the stirring times here treated of, supply abundant
materials for such a purpose; but it is better, perhaps, to follow
our subject closely up, putting aside many collateral incidents, not,
indeed, as without their influence on the Reformation, but as holding
a very subordinate place in it; and thus to keep our eye single,
neither distracting it by too much diversity, nor perplexing it by too
much detail. For, in general, the most profitable method of treating
a complicated subject, perhaps, is, not to open up every particular,
great and small, which may bear upon it in its degree; but rather to
filter the rush of matter which presents itself, and, striving to make
a small book, which is a hard thing, instead of a large one, which
is most easy, to place the reader in possession of such events only
as served to stamp the times to which they belonged, or serve now to
characterise them, and then to leave him to his own reflection or to
his own study to fill up the picture.

The first of those successive publications, by the circulation of
which Cranmer built up the faith of his country, was _Erasmus’s
Paraphrase of the New Testament_, translated into English, a copy
of which, as well as of the Bible, was to be set up in every parish
church; the next, a volume of _Homilies_, twelve in number. The
paraphrase Cranmer himself did not maintain to be perfect; but it
was the best upon which he could lay his hand; moreover, as executed
by a member of the church of Rome, (from whose eyes, however, the
scales were fast falling,) it was calculated, he might think (and an
expression which drops from him confirms this),[351] for a church in
a state of transition like our own; Gardiner offered many captious
objections to it; others, which might have been urged with more show of
reason, he was not, perhaps, the man to discover or propound. Had he
compared it with similar writings of some other of the reformers, he
would have found that, in making such a choice, Cranmer, so far from
intending to irritate, could only be led by a desire to conciliate the
Catholics as much as might be without a compromise. Had he compared,
for instance, Erasmus’s paraphrase of the Galatians with the commentary
of Luther on the same epistle--had he contrasted the caution of the one
interpreter with the intrepidity, not to say hardihood, of the other;
the different degrees of animation with which the great evangelical
doctrines, and those the most obnoxious to the Roman catholics, are
respectively handled by them; the different degrees of keenness they
discover in the detection of those doctrines under the same texts;
the more or less reserved sense in which the works of the law are
understood as affecting justification; not to speak of the direct
fulminations against the church of Rome, which Luther takes every
occasion to launch, and Erasmus to withhold;--if he had thus done,
probably Luther’s most powerful treatise would not, indeed, have made
him a convert to his opinions; Cranmer himself most likely would have
disavowed, or at least tempered, several of them; but it would have
at any rate satisfied him that the archbishop had far more offensive
weapons in his armoury than those which he thought proper on this
occasion to produce.

The objections which Gardiner directed against the _Homilies_ were
many of them just enough in logic, though feeble in themselves, for
it was alleged, that the doctrines of the Homilies and of the King’s
Book did not always agree; nor did they: but this only served to show
(what was the truth) that, when the latter was published, Cranmer was
counteracted by other influence; or else (what was equally the truth)
that his own opinions had in the interval undergone considerable
revision. Justification by faith only, a doctrine which in the King’s
Book had been greatly qualified, is made a leading principle in the
Homilies; and certain superstitions of the church of Rome, which in the
former were tolerated, if not encouraged, in the latter were absolutely
forbidden.[352] It may be noticed, in passing, that on some points, as
on that of human corruption for instance, a tone of greater moderation
prevails in this book of the Homilies than in the other, which appeared
in 1562, prepared by Queen Elizabeth’s bishops, principally, it
has been said, by Jewel.[353] Such a volume had been promised in an
advertisement affixed to the former one; and many of the subjects
actually treated in it are there enumerated, though not all: but the
composition, it should seem, was reserved for those who completed the
Reformation. In neither case, however, can the several Homilies be
assigned to their several authors with any certainty. At the same time
in the first volume (for with regard to the second no single Homily
of them all has been appropriated,) there is reason to think that the
one on “salvation” is Cranmer’s own; as perhaps those on “faith” and
“good works;”[354] and internal evidence arising out of certain homely
expressions, and peculiar forms of ejaculation, the like to which occur
in Latimer’s sermons, pretty clearly betrays the hand of the Bishop
of Worcester to have been engaged in the homily against “brawling and
contention;” the one against “adultery” may be safely given to Thomas
Becon, one of Cranmer’s chaplains, in whose works, published in 1564,
it is still to be found; of the rest nothing is known but by the merest
conjecture.[355] On the whole, the key to the right understanding of
either volume is not the Calvinistic controversy; for amongst all
the Homilies, as Bishop Burnet observes, there are none relating to
the divine decrees[356]--but the horror of papal abuses, which drove
the compilers into some hearty expressions in contradiction to them,
particularly in those for the Nativity and Whitsunday--expressions
which would rather have recommended themselves to the honest
extravagance of a Latimer than to the caution of a Cranmer, and which
have accordingly given occasion to many doubtful disputations both in
metaphysics and theology. Still, the _Homilies_ must have been
most wholesome lessons for those times, when minor differences were
merged in the broad distinction between Romanists and men of the new
learning, and in the one great struggle for the liberties temporal and
spiritual of the church of England.

Soon after this, in the year 1548, was published _Cranmer’s
Catechism_, as it was called, it being said in the title-page
to be “set forth” by him; a circumstance which led Burnet into the
mistake, subsequently corrected at the suggestion of Strype, that it
was composed by the archbishop. The truth is, that it was originally
written in German, and was probably one of the many catechisms to which
Luther’s own gave rise, and by which the Reformation in Germany was
forwarded. It was translated into Latin by Justus Jonas, the father
most likely (for there were two), the intimate friend of Luther; and
might have been brought into England by the son, a less conspicuous
character among the reformers, who came to this country in 1548, driven
from his home, like many more, by the religious ordinance of Charles V.
known by the name of the _Interim_. From the Latin it was turned
into English, faithfully for the most part, by some hand of Cranmer’s
own choosing, perhaps by Rowland Taylor the martyr, of glorious memory,
then one of his chaplains. It is drawn up on the same plan as the
Bishops’ Book and the King’s Book, which had preceded it; being an
exposition of the Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, and the Sacraments. As
Cranmer prefixed to the work his own name, it must be considered to
express his own opinions at the time; and its history is here traced
with the more care, because it presents another picture of the
progressive workings of his mind towards the point at which he finally
reposed, and another proof of the slow and painful process through
which he arrived at what he conceived to be the truth. Accordingly,
in his Catechism we still find the Commandments arranged after the
Roman Catholic usage, the second omitted, or consolidated with the
first, and the tenth divided into two. We find three sacraments still
insisted upon, though four others had been withdrawn--baptism, the bath
of regeneration, or instrument of the second birth;[357] absolution,
or the authority of the keys, by virtue of which pardon is obtained
for sins after baptism; and the holy communion, which administers
fresh supplies of grace to the worthy receiver, and enables him to go
on from strength to strength. Of the first of these three sacraments
it may be remarked, too, that the language is more dogmatical than
would have been used by Cranmer a few years later; “those who have
heathen parents, and die without baptism,” being said to be “damned
everlastingly;”[358]--a phrase, it is true, merely rendered from
the Latin; but the translation exercises on some other occasions a
discretionary power of abridging; and whilst the former rejects the
church of Rome as a church, counting it to be such only in name, and
classing it even with the Turks,[359] the latter tempers its zeal with
a sounder judgment, and omits altogether so suicidal a statement:
the time came when Cranmer would have left these infants to the
uncovenanted mercies of God, saying within himself, “What is that to
thee? Follow thou me.” Still, this is characteristic of the several
stages of opinion through which he had to pass. A similar remark
applies to the doctrine of the holy communion, as here explained. It
is clearly that of the real presence; for though a distinction has
been taken between some expressions in the Latin catechism (which
certainly inculcates the Lutheran tenet), and the corresponding phrases
in the English translation, as though the former asserted the body
and blood of Christ to be _present_ in the sacrament, the latter
to be _received_ therein; still there are many places where such
a distinction does not obtain, and where the argument itself does
not seem to admit of it.[360] But, after all, why has it been made a
matter of reproach against Cranmer, that he was first a Catholic, then
a Lutheran, and lastly a Zuinglian in his notions on the Communion;
successively a believer in transubstantiation, in the real and in the
spiritual presence of the body and blood of Christ? This he was: for,
the first opinion he maintained when he argued against Lambert;[361]
the second, when he published his Catechism; the last, when he wrote
his book upon the sacrament. Gardiner might take advantage of such
changes, as in fact he did, and have his sneer; but nothing could be
more natural than that a sincere man, only intent on following out
truth, lead where it might, should have arrived at it by degrees, and
by precisely such degrees as these--that he should see men as trees
walking, before he saw them as men; and nothing can argue more strongly
the sound and sober principles upon which the Reformation proceeded,
than this its gradual advance. It was not, we find, without patient
investigation, and the successive abandonment of every false position,
as it proved itself to be such, that it ultimately attained the strong
ground from which it has never since been dislodged.

This catechism (it may be remarked) has been sometimes confounded with
the short form contained in our Prayer Book. The latter, however, was
of genuine English growth, though of doubtful origin: Strype assigns
it expressly to Nowell;[362] but the modern biographer of the Dean of
St. Paul’s questions his title to it, and rather gives it to Poinet,
afterwards Bishop of Winchester.[363] In any case, Cranmer appears to
have reviewed and digested it, not without the able co-operation of
Ridley.[364] It made a part of the Liturgy of King Edward, of which
more will be said in its proper place, being inserted in the Office
for Confirmation. Nor has any material change been since introduced
into it, except that the explanation of the Sacraments was added in
the reign of James I., the original Catechism having ended with the
Exposition of the Lord’s Prayer.

The same year, 1548, came out another work, by which the cause of the
Reformation was still more essentially served, and the structure of the
church advanced, the _Office of the Communion_. It was compiled
chiefly out of the Roman missal, of which it is often a literal
translation, by “sundry of his Majesty’s most grave and well-learned
prelates and other learned men in the Scriptures,” and in its first
shape retained (so it was afterwards thought) some particulars of its
original, which would have been better modified or suppressed. It
underwent like the other Offices of which more will be said presently,
a rigid revision by Martyr and Bucer before its re-appearance in 1552,
for the benefit of whose remarks the whole was turned into Latin (so
pains-taking were the founders of our Church); and prayer for the dead,
the invocation of the Holy Ghost upon the elements, and a certain bias,
or what might have been mistaken for such, towards the real presence,
were corrected, but with a delicate hand and admirable judgment
though they were still in after-times those amongst the non-jurors
who maintained that the changes were not to its advantage; and even
Laud, it has been observed, in the composition of his Liturgy for the
episcopalian church of Scotland, has in some things shown a preference
to the first over the amended form.[365]

Here again have we to remark and admire the moderation of the
Reformers: they did not unmannerly reject those Offices of the Church
which, however corrupted, lost themselves in a fathomless abyss of
years, and might even have partaken of something of the spirit of an
apostolic age; for though the Clementine liturgy, to which the Missal,
like many other liturgies of various countries and dates, owes many of
its elements, is found in a work, not indeed of the antiquity to which
its title pretends, the Apostolical Constitutions; still it is a work
of very great antiquity, perhaps antecedent to the Council of Nice; and
therefore it is not visionary to suppose that this primitive Office
contained in it breathes the language of very early times indeed, and
that some of the prayers which for three centuries of persecution might
have lived rather by tradition than in writing, may be here more or
less faithfully preserved. These helps which our Reformers did not
disdain, they showed themselves able to improve, correcting what was
objectionable in doctrine, removing what was offensive in taste, and
often communicating by some happy expression even an additional glow
of devotion to passages in themselves (it might have been thought) too
beautiful to touch; for in the whole compass of English literature,
many as are the excellent versions of ancient writings which it can
boast, it would be in vain to look for any specimens of translation
(merely to put the case thus) so vigorous, so simple, so close, and
yet so free from all constraint, as are afforded by the Offices of
our Church. An example taken at random may suffice to acquit us of
all charge of declamation. It shall be one of the Prefaces; that for
Easter. Thus it runs in the Missal:--

“Verè dignum et justum est, æquum et salutare, Te quidem, Domine, omni
tempore, sed in hoc potissimùm gloriosius prædicare, cùm Pascha nostrum
immolatus est Christus. Ipse enim verus est Agnus, qui abstulit peccata
mundi; qui mortem nostram moriendo destruxit, et vitam resurgendo
reparavit. Et ideo cum Angelis et Archangelis, cum Thronis et
Dominationibus, cumque omni militiâ cœlestis exercitûs, hymnum gloriæ
tuæ canimus, sine fine dicentes, Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus, Dominus
Deus Sabaoth. Pleni sunt cœli et terra gloriâ tuâ, Hosanna in Excelsis.
Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini, Hosanna in Excelsis.”

Let any man attempt to express this sublime appeal to God in his
mother-tongue for himself, and then he will know how to appreciate the
ease with which it is effected by those gifted men, to the worth of
whose labours our own generation is not, perhaps, sufficiently alive,
in the following manner:--

“It is very meet, right, and our bounden duty, that we should, at all
times and in all places, give thanks unto thee, O Lord, Holy Father,
Almighty Everlasting God. But chiefly are we bound to praise thee for
the glorious resurrection of thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord; for he is
the very Paschal Lamb which was offered for us, and hath taken away the
sin of the world; who by his death hath destroyed death, and by his
rising to life again hath restored to us everlasting life. Therefore
with angels and archangels, and with all the company of heaven, we laud
and magnify thy glorious name, evermore praising thee, and saying,
Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Hosts; heaven and earth are full of thy
glory: glory be to thee, O Lord, most High.”

Nothing can go beyond this, unless it be some of our Collects, very
many of which are almost literal versions of those of the Missal; and
were more wanted for occasional purposes; and possibly some might be
added to our Liturgy with advantage; more might be found in this same
exhaustless mine. Here, again; let us to the testimony. The collect for
Palm Sunday is this:--

“Omnipotens, sempiterne Deus, qui humano generi ad imitandum
humilitatis exemplum, Salvatorem nostrum, carnem sumere et crucem
subire fecisti: concede propitius, ut et patientiæ ipsius habere
documenta, et resurrectionis consortia mereamur per eundem Dominum.”
How free, yet how faithful, is the copy:--

“Almighty, everlasting God, who of thy tender love towards mankind,
hast sent thy Son our Saviour Jesus Christ to take upon him our flesh,
and to suffer death upon the cross, that all mankind might follow
the example of his great humility: mercifully grant that we may both
follow the example of his patience, and also be made partakers of his
resurrection, through the same Jesus Christ our Lord.”

The Office of the Communion though soon combined with the other
Offices, appears at first to have been published by itself, and before
any other service;[366] it being important to provide a substitute
for the Mass with as little delay as possible. At the end of the same
year, however, (1548) the Book of Common Prayer was prepared, and
submitted to parliament; and in 1549 it was put forth by authority,
and was appointed to supersede every other form. It was drawn up by
the same hands,[367] and upon the same principles as the Office of
the Communion; and as the Missal had been laid under contribution
for the latter so was the Breviary for the former, and the ancient
Liturgies for both. In that of Jerusalem, of St. James as it is called,
and of which the reader may find the substance in a popular form in
the “Devotions of Bishop Andrews,” many of the elements of our own
beautiful Liturgy may be discovered; and the volume of matter which
our earlier church prayers in general pour forth, as compared with
the more jejune productions of later times, may be in a great measure
imputed to the liberal use which our Reformers made of the devotions
of generations gone by, and to that modesty which was content to learn
from the spirits of just men now made perfect how to pray. But besides
these more ancient sources, from which so much of our Prayer Book was
derived, a Liturgy recently drawn up by Melancthon and Bucer, for the
use of the archbishopric of Cologne, supplied many other hints. This,
however, was itself no effusion of the moment, but was constructed (as
might have been expected from the scholarship of its authors) out of
the treasures which they found in the devotional forms of other days.
Calvin had, indeed, produced a Liturgy of his own, preferring to be
the author rather than the compiler, which he published at Geneva,
as the form of that church, in 1545, but to this our Liturgy, as it
first stood in 1549, does not bear the slightest resemblance. Whilst,
however, the latter was under revision, previous to its republication
in 1552, and in the hands of those foreign divines of whom mention has
already been made, the substance of Calvin’s work was printed in London
by Valerandus Pollanus, his successor at Strasburg, then a refugee in
England, with some additions of his own, and this (as was most natural)
was not overlooked by men busily engaged in a similar task, and did
probably suggest the introductory sentences, Exhortation, Confession,
and Absolution, which were then for the first time prefixed to our
Daily Prayer. Nor is it doubtful that to the appearance of this same
work at that particular moment we are indebted for the supplement to
the Communion Service of the Ten Commandments, with the Responses, the
latter of which, indeed, are very nearly translations from Pollanus.
Still the temper of our Reformers is shown even here, and that middle
way observed by them, which often constrains them to quit the guidance
of these foreign theologians, and speak for themselves. Both in the
Confession (and particularly that in the Communion Service) and in the
Absolution, which was taken from Pollanus and not from Calvin, who
did not adopt any form of the kind, extreme expressions with regard
to human depravity to be met with in the originals are studiously
suppressed or qualified in the imitations, as if the morbid anatomy
of our nature was not the theme on which they delighted to dwell,
satisfied with having at least trampled under foot all pretensions of
merit on man’s part, and with having vindicated the _exclusive_
claim of our Lord’s cross and passion to the salvation of a race fallen
at any rate from a pernicious height.[368]

The time of day at which the offices of the Prayer Book, thus
completed, were performed, is not easily determined; and peremptorily
as some have asserted that our morning service for Sundays consists of
three entire services intended for three several hours of prayer, and
extravagantly long, merely owing to this clumsy consolidation of them
all, it would not be easy to prove that such division did ever in fact
obtain. Two services probably are united: the Morning Prayer strictly
so called, being one; the Litany and Communion the other;--but that the
two latter again were ever separated seems very doubtful, or, indeed,
that the first continued for any great while after the Reformation to
be severed from the rest. That such was the case originally there are
many reasons for believing. It naturally succeeded to the _matins_
of the Roman Catholic church, as the Litany and Communion did to the
_High-Mass_;[369] and it would, therefore, be very likely that
the hours in either case would also correspond. Moreover, in all the
early Common Prayer Books, even in the very first, there is a Rubric,
which directs such as intend to partake of the Communion “to signify
their names to the curate over night, or else in the morning before
the beginning of Morning Prayer _or immediately after_;”[370] a
phrase which argues some interval between the two services, such as
might suffice for considering the qualifications of the candidates, and
for providing elements proportioned to the numbers who would attend.
Neither is there wanting some internal evidence of the Morning Prayer
being at first said betimes--“O God, who hast safely brought us to the
_beginning_ of this day, defend us in the same,” being a phrase
scarcely pertinent to any other prayers than orisons.[371] On the
contrary, there are reasons still more satisfactory for thinking that
the Litany was succeeded by the Communion Service without any pause
whatever. In the injunctions of King Edward, put forth in 1547, there
is one to this effect, that “immediately before _High Mass_,
the priests, with other of the quire shall kneel in the midst of the
church, and sing or say plainly and distinctly the _Litany_ which
is set forth in English with the suffrages following.”[372] There is
every reason to believe that this was in substance the Litany still in
use, for it had already appeared in Henry’s Primer; but however that
might be, the union which it exhibits between such Litany whatever
it was, and the High Mass, prepares us to suppose that a similar
arrangement was likely to ensue with regard to the same or any new
Litany and the Communion Service. And that such did ensue is made still
more manifest by the injunctions of Queen Elizabeth in the first year
of her reign; in one of which the very same clause again occurs word
for word, except that for “High Mass” there is actually substituted
“the time of _communion of the sacrament_.”[373] Indeed the
Communion Service could scarcely fail of being annexed to the Litany,
since it soon came to pass that the former was seldom read throughout,
the sacrament ceasing to be administered weekly, as was at first
contemplated, and recurring at least in country churches, as at present
only five or six times a year.[374] Nor is this all: in the first
Common Prayer Book of Edward VI. it was ordered, that “upon Wednesdays
and Fridays, though there were none to communicate with the priest,
yet, _after the Litany ended_, the priest should put upon him a
plain alb or surplice with a cope, and say all things at the altar
appointed to be said at the celebration of the Lord’s Supper until
after the offertory.” Whence it is clear, that when there were persons
to communicate (which the rubric seems to presume would always be
the case on Sundays,) the Litany and Communion service went together;
and that when there were none such, still the Litany was immediately
followed by the Communion Service as far as to the end of the prayer
for the whole state of Christ’s church militant. How long this
arrangement continued does not appear; but whether from the difficulty
of gathering together a congregation at break of day, discipline being
now relaxed, or from whatever other cause, within the first century
after the Reformation the Church seems to have lapsed into the present
practice, and to have combined its services into one. Bishop Hall in
his contemplations makes the incident mentioned in the first Book of
Samuel--that “they of Ashdod arose _early_ on the morrow to visit
Dagon”--a vehicle for reproof of the lukewarmness of his own times,
saying, “The morning is fittest for devotion; then do the Philistines
flock to the temple of their god;” and adding, “what a shame it is
_for us to come late to ours_!”[375] as though in his day, and he
died in 1656, at the age of eighty-two, there were generally matins
no longer. And Herbert, in describing categorically the Sunday duties
of his Country Parson, expresses himself to the same effect:--“Having
read divine service,” says he, “_twice fully_, and preached in the
morning and catechised in the afternoon, he thinks he hath, in some
measure, according to poor and frail man, discharged the public duties
of the congregation.”[376]

The length of our church service, therefore, of which we now hear so
much, and the repetitions it contains, are evils, if evils they be,
which have been practically existing almost from its first formation;
which a Hammond, a Sanderson, and a Taylor could tolerate without
a complaint but too happy; (as were then their congregations also,
for those were not fastidious days,) if they were permitted in their
secret assemblies to give utterance to these burning words with which
the great Reformers had furnished them; nor scrupulously counting
how often they were taught to pour forth the Lord’s Prayer; as they
counted not how often they were taught to cry out in the self-same
phrase for the Lord to have mercy upon them; as David counted not how
often he exclaimed “My son, my son;” or as these critics themselves,
it is presumed, would not count their own iterations when they were
suing earnestly for their lives. Such are not vain repetitions; and
it is to be hoped, that an age so little fitted for the task as
this by any theological attainments, will pause before it attempts
to improve upon the labours of a Cranmer, who, according to the
testimony of one of the ripest scholars of his time, Peter Martyr,
nor he, by any means a creature of the archbishop, “had diligently
noted with his own hand every one of the fathers; had digested into
particular chapters, with a view to the controversies of his day,
councils, canons, and popes’ decrees pertaining thereto, with a toil,
and diligence, and exactness, which would seem incredible to any but
an eye-witness; who both publicly and privately, and by a marvellous
strength of learning, quickness of wit, and dexterity of management,
had asserted what he held to be true from the thorny and intricate
cavils of sophisters;”[377] and who pronounced concerning this very
Book of Common Prayer, “that no man could mislike that godly book that
had any godliness in him joined with knowledge;”[378]--Moreover that
an age, which for a long time, unchastened by any national calamity,
has suffered much of that spirit of devotion to escape which animated
the holy men of old, who were ever compelled to walk with their lives
in their hand, and who were, in fact, called upon at length to lay
them down, will not be allowed to communicate its narcotic influence
to our Liturgy, and quench in any degree the ashes of the martyrs. In
truth, it is impossible to contemplate the projects of our Liturgical
Reformers without something of alarm, lest, whilst with the best
intentions in the world they “dandle the kid,” they should clumsily
kill him nevertheless.

If, however, changes there must be after all--if old things must
here, too, pass away, and all things become new--be the conditions
those proposed by the sagacious South, and all apprehensions will be
hushed. “Let us but have our Liturgy continued to us, as it is, till
the persons are born who shall be able to mend it, or make a better;
and we desire no greater security against either the altering this, or
introducing another.”[379]

Besides providing these various forms of public devotion, our Reformers
extended their care to those of the closet and household; and in
“The Primer, or Book of Private Prayer, needful to be used of all
Christians” (for so its title runs), and of which numerous editions
appeared from the dawn of the Reformation under Henry down to the
accession of Mary, successively portraying its progress by their
improvements upon one another, scriptural petitions are contained
suitable to all sorts and conditions of men, and almost to every state
of body or mind to which they are liable. Here are graces before
meat--addresses to God “both when we wake and when we seek his gift of
sleep;”--when we are “very sick,” and when our health is recovered--for
such as have an unquiet conscience, or an injured name--for such as
are in poverty or affluence--for kings and judges, gentlemen and
merchants, lawyers and labourers, parents and children, husbands and
wives, masters and servants--significant all, of the manner in which
the Reformers laboured to introduce a religious principle into all the
relations and transactions of life whatsoever; to extend its influence
over the whole of society, so that like Elisha stretched upon the
dead child (to use an illustration of Jeremy Taylor’s), it might give
life and animation to every part of the body politic. There is much
simplicity and beauty in the following prayers “for Landlords,” and
“for Householders,” which are extracted as specimens of a work now but
little known, having been overlaid by the extempore effusions of the
days of Cromwell, and never having recovered itself, like the Book of
Common Prayer, since.--[380]


                            “FOR LANDLORDS.

“The earth is thine, O Lord, and all that is contained therein,
notwithstanding thou hast given the possession thereof to the children
of men, to pass over the time of their short pilgrimage in this vale
of misery. We heartily pray thee to send thy Holy Spirit into the
hearts of them that possess the grounds, pastures, and dwelling-places
of the earth; that they, remembering themselves to be thy tenants,
may not rack and stretch out the rents of their houses and lands; nor
yet take unreasonable fines and incomes; after the manner of covetous
worldlings; but so let them out to other, that the inhabitants thereof
may be able both to pay the rents, and also honestly to live to nourish
their family, and to relieve the poor. Give them grace also to consider
that they are but strangers and pilgrims in this world, having here
no dwelling-place, but seeking one to come; that they, remembering
the short continuance of their life, may be content with that is
sufficient, and not join house to house, nor couple land to land, to
the impoverishment of others; but so behave themselves in letting out
their tenements, lands, and pastures, that after this life they may
be received into everlasting dwelling-places through Jesus Christ our
Lord.”


                          “FOR HOUSEHOLDERS.

“To have children and servants is thy blessing, O Lord! but not to
order them according to thy word deserveth thy dreadful curse; grant,
therefore, that as thou hast blessed me with an household, so I may
diligently watch, that nothing may be committed of the same that
may offend thy fatherly goodness, and be an occasion of turning thy
blessing into a curse; but that so many as thou hast committed to my
charge may eschew all vice; embrace all virtue; live in thy fear; call
upon thy holy name; learn thy blessed commandments; hear thy holy word;
and avoiding idleness, diligently exercise themselves every one in his
office, according to their vocation and calling, unto the glory of thy
most honourable name.”

Thus far have we accompanied our Reformers in their attempt to raise up
a Church of England, and to establish its doctrines. One important work
more under this head remained still to be done, and to that we must
now advert, the composition of a set of _Articles_ which should
speak with authority the opinions of the church, and secure uniformity
amongst its teachers. Cranmer had entertained this difficult project
in his thoughts long before he executed it; and the spirit in which he
buckled himself to the work may be collected from some demonstrations
which he had previously made. The natural effect of the Reformation
had been to put in motion various conflicting opinions upon matters
of faith and practice; every man challenging to himself the right of
private judgment, and many, no doubt, abusing it; for any principle,
however good, may be misapplied. It was, accordingly, the devout wish
of many of the leading Reformers, both on the Continent and in this
country, that some general creed should be drawn up by a congress of
learned men of all nations, which should bind the whole Protestant
church together, and put an end to these mischievous divisions of
heart. Melancthon appears especially to have pressed such a scheme upon
Cranmer, whom, in his turn, he found nothing loth to pursue it;[381]
for he seems to have entered into a correspondence on the subject with
some of the leading foreign Protestants; and Calvin’s own letters
(for to him he had written amongst others) bear testimony to the
comprehensive views of our archbishop upon this great question.[382] It
failed, however, as the same correspondence indicates; whether from the
troubles at that time prevailing both at home and abroad; whether from
the difficulty which must have been anticipated of constructing any
single form which should be acceptable to so many parties holding so
many opinions; or whether from the intrigues of the Council of Trent,
then sitting, which, taking alarm at the projected unanimity of their
adversaries, and acting upon the old policy of divide and conquer,
despatched their emissaries to the proper quarters, who, feigning
themselves zealous for the Reformation, and preaching those extravagant
doctrines of the Anabaptists, which all sober-minded men lamented and
condemned, scattered apples of discord amongst their enemies, and
dissolved them as a body.[383] But, however this might be, the scheme
was discovered to be impracticable, and Cranmer then contracted his
views, and confined himself to the preparation of Articles for the
Church of England only.[384]

It is of great importance to the right understanding of those which
he at length drew up, to consider the spirit in which they were
framed. Originating in the manner we have said, the principle which
dictated them could scarcely have been one of exclusion, but was
rather intended to allow a latitude, within certain limits to a
conscientious difference of opinion, and to make the fiery scorpion of
bigotry draw in its claws; and concede a just portion of the heavens
to other pretensions besides its own. That the spirit of our Articles
was thus catholic, became apparent in the actual working of them; and
accordingly, when the exclusive doctrines of Calvin triumphed for a
season in this country, and the Westminster divines were called upon
to remodel the church, one of their first acts was to review the
Articles, (a task which they did not complete, probably finding it a
business of too much moderation to suit their present temper,) with
the express design of rendering them “more determinate in favour of
Calvinism[385],” and a similar attack appears to have been meditated
upon them by the same party at the Savoy conference after the
Restoration;[386] sufficient testimonies these, that the exclusionists
did, in fact, feel the Articles (however they may have laid violent
claim to them as their own) to be conceived in a temper inconveniently
liberal, and the net of Cranmer and his coadjutors to have been cast,
in this instance, too wide to meet their approbation.

Nor will a closer examination of the history of their actual
composition lead to any other result. For the model upon which those
of Cranmer of 1553 were formed was the Confession of Augsburg, which
was strictly a Lutheran Confession, Melancthon himself having drawn it
up; and it is a curious fact, and like another to which allusion has
already been made (the frequent invitations sent to this great Reformer
to repair to England and take part in building up her church), a fact
indicating the influence which his character and opinions exercised
on the ecclesiastical proceedings of this country at that time, that
the divinity professorship in Cambridge, which was vacated by Bucer’s
death, in 1551, was not filled up for two years, apparently in the hope
that Melancthon (for whom it was intended) would be persuaded to come
over and occupy it;[387] the interval being precisely that in which
the Articles were concocted. Nor may it be impertinent to remark, that
on their revision under Archbishop Parker, previous to 1562, care was
taken to draw from the same, or at least a similar, fountain for what
was wanting; the additions and emendations bearing token, both in their
matter and language, of having been derived from the Confession of
Wirtemberg; a Confession composed in 1551, and exhibited at the Council
of Trent the following year, and which, like that of Augsburg, was
not Calvinistic, nor Zuinglian, but Lutheran.[388] Indeed, nothing can
be more erroneous than to measure the contemporary by the posthumous
influence of a great name. Milton is not mentioned by Lord Clarendon
(who forgets nobody that stamped his own times), nor yet by Baxter,
whose writings are voluminous, and by whom it was to be expected that
he would be had in honour. And in like manner, splendid as eventually
became the fame of Calvin, it was comparatively inconsiderable when
our church was in building, being eclipsed by the burning and shining
light of Luther’s name; so that whilst a sermon of the latter is
advertised in England in 1547, as a work “of the famous clerk of
_worthy memory_, Dr. Martin Luther,” a treatise of Calvin is sent
forth in 1549 (two years later), as “written by Master John Calvin, a
man of _right excellent learning and no less conversation_,” as
though his fame as yet required the help of a herald;[389] neither,
it may be observed, does the term Calvinist find a place in the pages
of Fox. And though a body of men there was in the times of our first
Reformers, and by them certainly accounted schismatics, to whom the
name of _Free-Willers_ was given, (and a singular instance of
the predominance of the intellectual over the mere animal part of our
nature it is, that the metaphysical questions to which the name points
should have disturbed the prison-house of persons who were about to
die, perhaps, on the morrow, at the stake[390],) still the tenets of
these men were not such as were afterwards called Arminian, but were
strictly Pelagian, being in gross disparagement of a Redeemer’s merits,
and of a Sanctifier’s help, and as such were stoutly combated by the
founders of our Church.[391] That the freedom of the will was not, in
itself, a doctrine offensive to Cranmer, but the contrary, is certain;
and in a Letter to Cromwell, recently published[392] from an original
manuscript in the Chapter-house at Westminster, the Archbishop,
speaking of the seditious conduct of one Sir Thomas Baschurch, a
priest, writes, “At April next coming it shall be three years since
the said Sir Thomas fell into despair, and thereby into a sickness, so
that he was in peril of death. Of this sickness, within a quarter of
a year after, he recovered, but saith he is assured that he shall be
perpetually damned. _My chaplains and divers other learned men have
reasoned with him_, but no man can bring him to other opinion but
that he, like unto Esau, was created unto damnation; and hath, divers
times and sundry ways, attempted to kill himself; but by diligent
looking unto he hath hitherto been preserved.”

Moreover, the selection which Cranmer made of Erasmus’s Paraphrase, as
the exposition of Scripture of which every church was to have a copy,
argues no Calvinistic prejudices, but the very reverse.

The true key, indeed, to the right understanding of the articles (as
was already observed with regard to the homilies) is not so much the
doctrine of Calvin as of the schoolmen; the controversy lying chiefly
between the Protestant and Catholic, and in its paramount interest and
importance absorbing for a season every other. Thus the article of
“Original Sin” is urged with a reference to the scholastic dogma, that
original sin was a mere defect of original righteousness, the latter
being a quality superinduced, and not “the fault and corruption of the
nature of every man;”--the article of “Works before Justification,”
with a similar view to another theory of the subtle doctors, that by
a certain meritorious meetness, _a priori_, for the reception of
God’s grace, the party claimed it as a right _de congruo_, and
that having once received it, he then claimed its further extension as
a right, _de condigno_.[393] These opinions, so calculated to puff
up by making man the originator of his own justification, our Reformers
would not tolerate, and framed their confessions accordingly. It would
not fall within the plan of a work like the present to enter more
minutely into these investigations, which, after all, are as an hedge
of thorns; suffice it to have pointed out the general principle which
should not be lost sight of in forming our judgment of the articles.
Thus considered they will be scarcely thought to determine, or to be
intended to determine, the peculiar points of Calvinistic controversy
either way: they will be rather thought to be composed simply for the
purpose assigned in the title prefixed to the original articles, “for
the _avoiding of controversy_ in opinions, and the establishment
of a _godly concord_ in certain matters of religion;”[394] an
object which was not likely to be obtained by the decided adoption of
any party views, be that party what it might; and, therefore, King
James, according to his declaration prefixed to the Articles, “took
comfort that all clergymen within his realm had always most willingly
subscribed to the Articles established, which is an argument (he adds)
that they all agree in the true usual literal meaning of the said
Articles, and that even in those curious points in which the present
differences lie, men of all sorts take the Articles of the church of
England to be for them.” Yet nothing can be more certain than that in
the time of James the divisions of opinion upon speculative points of
theology were both wide and numerous; high and low church principles
(as they are called) never having been more violently opposed to each
other than then. Here, therefore, as in all other of their measures,
did the Reformers make their moderation known unto all men, not hoping
or desiring to confine religious opinion so closely as thereby to
prejudice religious sincerity, nor expecting that the pyramid of a
national Church would stand firm when set upon an apex instead of a
base.

On a review of these several works by which the Church of England
was restored, it can scarcely fail to be matter of admiration and
wonder, that so fair a fabric should have risen under the hands of the
Reformers out of such disorder, almost at once; that in the very agony
of a first attempt they should have thrown off a comprehensive scheme
of doctrine and devotion which scarcely called for any subsequent
revision; that they should not only have hewn out such admirable
materials, but have brought them, too, in so short a season, to so
excellent a work. In this our day (overcast and troubled as it is)
we can, perhaps, scarcely transfer ourselves, even in imagination,
to the tumultuous age of a Cranmer and a Ridley, or fully appreciate
the sagacity which, under God’s blessing, conducted them through
such conflicting elements with such signal triumph. Yet so it was;
and with the gorgeous ceremonies of the church they had grown up in
soliciting their senses on the one hand, endeared, too, by all the
holy recollections of their youth and even manhood; and contempt for
all decency of apparel and ritual, the natural reaction of former
abuses, assailing them on the other; these judicious men yielded
themselves to neither extreme, but adopting the _middle way_,
(alas! that Milton should bestow upon them no better title for this
than that of halting prelates,[395]) left us a church alike removed
from ostentation and meanness, from admiration of ornament and disdain
of it; a church retaining so much reverence for ancient customs, and
ancient forms, as not rashly to abolish them, and only so much as not
to adopt them blindly. Under the guidance of this principle it was
brought to pass that though this same church was not made to discover
the material flesh and blood of our Lord in the communion, it was
taught to discover (whatever Bishop Hoadley may say to the contrary)
more than mere commemorative emblems; that while she does not presume
to limit the regenerating influence of the Holy Ghost to the single
mode of baptism, and exclude from all possible admission into heaven
every soul of man which has not partaken of that rite, for “the Spirit
which works by means may be not tied to means,”[396] she declares it
generally necessary to salvation; that whilst she teaches the absolute
need of a Saviour and of a Spirit, to restore in us that image of God
which was greviously defaced by the fall, and imputes such restoration
to the merits of a Saviour and the influence of the Spirit, she thinks
it of inferior consequence to determine how far gone from original
righteousness we may be, resting satisfied with the assertion (to
the truth of which every one who knows his own heart must subscribe)
that we are at any rate “very far gone,” “_quam longissime_,” as
far as it is possible, consistently with the possession of a moral
nature at all, and responsibility for our actions; that whilst she
does not allow marriage to be a sacrament, as remembering, that it is
no ratified means of grace, still less does she regard it as a civil
contract, as remembering, also, that in it is signified the spiritual
marriage and unity of Christ and his church, and that male and female
God joined together; that whilst she does not enforce, on pain of
damnation, confession to the priest, or hold the act to be essential
to the forgiveness of the sin, she, nevertheless, solemnly exhorts
such persons as have a troubled conscience, and know not how to quiet
it, to go to a minister of God and open to him their grief, that they
may receive from him the benefit of absolution, together with ghostly
counsel and advice.

With such discretion did our Reformers retain the good which was in
the Church of Rome whilst they rejected the evil, putting the one
in vessels to be kept, and casting the other away; with such temper
did they refuse to be scared by the abuses of past times, or the
scrupulosities of their own, into narrowing needlessly that ground on
which they invited a nation to take its stand, and which they well knew
must be broad to admit of it. And so it came about, that a form of
faith and worship was conceived which recommended itself to the piety
and good sense of the people; to which they reverted with gladness of
heart when evil times afterwards compelled them to abjure it for a
season; towards which, those who have since dissented and withdrawn
from it have so often seen occasion (or if not they, their children,
after them,) to retrace their steps, and tacitly to acknowledge that
whilst they sought meat for their lust, they had rejected angels’ food.

God grant that a church which has now for nearly three centuries,
amidst every extravagance of doctrine and discipline which has spent
itself around her, still carried herself as the mediator, chastening
the zealot by words of soberness, and animating the lukewarm by words
that burn--that a church which has been found on experience to have
successfully promoted a quiet and unobtrusive and practical piety
amongst the people, such as comes not of observation, but is seen in
the conscientious discharge of all those duties of imperfect obligation
which are the bonds of peace, but which laws cannot reach--that
such a church may live through these troubled times to train up our
children in the fear of God, when we are in our graves; and that no
strong delusion sent amongst us may prevail to her overthrow, and to
the eventual discomfiture (as they would find too late to their cost)
of many who have thoughtlessly and ungratefully lifted up their heel
against her!




                              CHAPTER XI.

             HOOPER.--PURITANS.--EXPECTATIONS OF THE ROMAN
             CATHOLICS.--EDWARD’S DEATH.--LADY JANE GREY.


But though the leading Reformers were men of moderation, there was a
party now growing up in the church of another temper, and a more rigid
mould. Hooper, the type of it at that time, had resided for some years
amongst the foreign Protestants of Germany and Switzerland, where the
promulgation of the Interim, a half measure, uniting something of
Popish forms with something of Protestant principles; had put men upon
considering the question concerning the use of things indifferent. He
took the side of the more rigorous casuists; and, accordingly, when
the bishopric of Gloucester was offered him, (for he was one of the
most sharp and searching preachers of his day, and of a conscience
above fear or favour, sometimes, perhaps, above reason too,) he
alleged certain scruples, in which he was seconded by John à Lasco,
and the churches of the strangers in England, chiefly touching the
episcopal habits, which then consisted, besides the rochet of white
linen as still worn, of a chimere or robe, to which the lawn sleeves
are attached, of scarlet silk; the latter gorgeous article of dress,
which was not superseded by the black satin at present worn, till the
reign of Elizabeth, seems to have been the chief offence to Hooper,
who accordingly for a while declined the mitre. Here was the beginning
of those troubles which; however respectable in their origin, were
soon destined to make havoc of the Church’s peace; and Hooper is one
of the few bishops (for a bishop he eventually became) on whom the
Puritans of every age, not excepting even Neal himself, have looked
with an eye of favour. It seems a strange thing to us, that men should
have been ever found ready to make shipwreck of charity, and to risk
the Reformation altogether (for the Roman Catholics were on the alert
to profit by the divisions) upon matters so unimportant in themselves
as the colour or material of a coat; or that such precisians should
have been met with as expected, and required the actual warrant of
Scripture for every trivial matter which they did throughout the day,
to the utter extinction of Christian liberty:[397] yet the number of
such persons grew and prevailed: and though Hooker in his great work,
now but little read, because to our apprehensions so large a portion of
it is occupied in fighting with shadows, no shadows however then, did
his best, as did Sanderson his most learned contemporary,[398] to stave
off the crisis; it came with the rebellion nevertheless, when a morbid
conscience gave place, as it often does, to fanaticism or hypocrisy,
and the substantial fruits of the Spirit were lost in real or pretended
paroxysms. Surely the kingdom of God is not meat and drink. St. Paul
in all his epistles deals boldly with such beggarly elements; nor does
the example of our Lord himself sanction scruples merely fastidious.
He did not listen to the accusations against his disciples that they
had plucked the ears of corn on the Sabbath day, or that they had eaten
with unwashen hands; and it is remarkable that, though according
to the strict letter of the Levitical law the Passover was to be
partaken of with loins girded, and shoes on the feet, and a staff in
the hand, and in haste, Jesus appears to have acquiesced in a custom
long established, and to have sat down with his disciples, and to have
conversed with them at his leisure, one of them leaning upon his bosom.

An attempt has been made by some to claim Cranmer as belonging to the
same party in his heart, howbeit restrained by force of circumstances
from fully declaring himself. They would persuade us that he was
prepared to have gone much further in his Book of Common Prayer, (such,
say they, was the report amongst the English exiles at Frankfort,)[399]
but that a wicked clergy and convocation held his hand; and that more
was meant than met the ear, even when under the cruel mockery of his
accusers, as they stripped him of the canvass pontificals in which they
had arrayed him, he observed, “that it needed not; for he had done
with that gear long before.”[400] That he set no greater store by the
innocent trappings of his office than was due to them from a man of
sense and piety may be well believed; he had already said as much: “If
the bishops of this realm,” he remarks in a letter to Cromwell, “pass
no more of their names, styles, and titles, than I do of mine, the
King’s Highness shall soon order the matter betwixt us.... For I pray
God never to be merciful to me at the general judgment if I perceive in
my heart that I set more by any title, name, or style, that I write,
than I do by the paring of an apple, further than it shall be to the
setting forth of God’s word and will.” Let it, however, be remembered,
that these words were written by Cranmer in vindication of himself
against the idle but malicious charge of Gardiner, that by assuming
the title of “Primate of all England” he had trenched upon the King’s
supremacy, and that the period at which they were written was the year
1535, when as yet the Puritan question had not been stirred.[401]
But though the general character of the Archbishop’s mind, which was
averse from extremes of every kind, is enough to oppose to any claim
of this description, there are, besides, some distinct particulars in
his history, which argue clearly enough that if he did not foresee the
danger of the Puritan principle, he at least had no inclination to lend
himself to its advancement. To Hooper’s imaginations he did not give
place, no not for an hour, resolutely opposing even the King’s letter
of recommendation that the ceremonies used in consecration might in his
particular case be dispensed with;[402] a degree of obduracy this, at
which the martyrologist (whose bias is well known) significantly hints,
“for he will name nobody,” as culpable in the Archbishop, and such as
called for the Cross to put an end by a real and terrible visitation
to unworthy contentions, and to unite men who ought never to have
been divided, by making them partners in bonds and in death. Nor is
this all; a trifle it may be, but still it is a trifle to our present
purpose, and characteristic of the temper of Cranmer, a straw which
tells the wind better than a stone, that a short passage which stands
in the Latin text of his catechism, reflecting on the mysteries and
other such mummeries as were then greatly followed by the English, and
which at a very early time were caviare to the Puritan, is altogether
omitted in the translation.[403] But, perhaps, the most decisive
evidence of all is the spirit which pervades the whole sermon “of the
Keys” in this same catechism; a sermon otherwise worth perusing, as
setting a difficult subject in a satisfactory light. That preachers
there must be, else how shall the people hear? that they must not of
themselves “run to this high honour,” else how are they “sent?” But
if they be not sent, how shall they fruitfully teach; for it is not
enough that the seed be sown, since God must also give the increase?
Yet how can the blessing of God be looked for on means which he has
not sanctioned? What surety is there that though the self-appointed
minister work well, God will choose to work with him? But if not, what
virtue can go out of the sacraments which he handles; what do baptism,
absolution, and the Supper of the Lord become, but dead forms, Christ
not being present with such preachers? That the right of ministration,
therefore, derived from the apostles at first, who, in their turn,
made “bishops and priests,” (“sacerdotes,” only, is the expression in
the Latin,) is to continue unto the end of the world; but in the line
appointed; and, accordingly, that good heed is to be taken of “false
and privy preachers, which privily creep into cities, and preach in
corners, having none authority, nor being called to this office.”
This is not the language of the Puritan; yet was Cranmer certainly
opposed to many of the remnants of the Church of Rome, in themselves
indifferent; to the use of the old altars instead of tables, which it
was proposed to substitute for them; to candles at Candlemas; to ashes
on Ash Wednesday, and the like; all, matters for which the people
were still clamorous, but with which he saw that they were not to be
trusted; and thus did he lay himself open to alternate charges of
over-much and over-little scrupulosity, according to the quarter from
which the objection came, sufficient in themselves to argue that he
chose out a path between either extreme, which was the safest and best
of all. There is something probably very significant of Cranmer’s own
temper as a reformer, in the terms of a letter which he addresses to
Cromwell, soliciting preferment for one John Wakefield, “gentleman,” as
he is called, comptroller of his own household. The qualities which,
according to the Archbishop’s notions, recommend him to the King’s
patronage are these:--“A good judgment and affection towards God’s
word, which for the space of twelve years” (the term of Cranmer’s
acquaintance with him) “he had always been ready to promote in his
country, not rashly nor seditiously, but gently and soberly; _so that
his own country could neither greatly hate him nor love him_. They
could not hate him, for his kindness and gentleness, being ready to
do every man good as much as in his power was; and yet they could not
heartily love him, because he ever commended the knowledge of God’s
word, studied it himself diligently, and exhorted them unto the same;
and spake many times against the abusions of the clergy, for which
he had all the hate that most of the clergy could procure against
him.”[404] A character of this complexion, moderation the leading
feature of it, was not the one to win upon a patron, himself prepared
to rush into the extremes of the Puritans.

But the reign of a minor, which was favourable to the growth of
that party, indeed Edward had himself, perhaps, a leaning to their
opinions, was not unfriendly to the further pillage of the church.
Here, therefore, Cranmer had again to interpose, that in this instance
he might protect the temporalities, as in the other he had protected
the doctrines, of the Establishment. The division of the abbey-lands
amongst the nobles seems to have begot a general taste amongst the
upper classes for expense, and consequent appetite for spoil--it
grew by what it fed on. Rents were raised to an extravagant height;
the farm for which Latimer’s father paid from three to four pounds
a year; and which enabled him to send a man and horse to the King’s
service, and to portion his daughters with five pounds a-piece, was,
in Latimer’s own time, let for sixteen pounds or more, to the utter
impoverishment of the occupier.[405] The waste lands were every
where enclosed for sheep-walks (the wool trade having now become
considerable), to the annihilation of those ancient rights of pasturage
which the neighbouring peasantry enjoyed, and to the fomentation of
fierce rebellions throughout the country.[406] Now it happened that
the chantries or chapels endowed by individuals for private masses had
survived the spoliation of Henry: these it was proposed should be given
to the King (which was another word for the nobles through the King),
and an act of parliament to that effect was passed in 1547, in spite
of the opposition of the bishops, and of Cranmer above all, who had
been in hopes of reserving these endowments till Edward should come of
age, and then inducing him to assign them to the relief of the numerous
poor clergy whom the sale of tithes had left almost pennyless. He had
already resisted encroachments of the same kind under Henry; beseeching
him that there should be no alienation of church lands without the
production, at least, of the royal warrant; many of the nobles being
in the habit of seizing them in the King’s name, though without any
intention of appropriating them to the King’s use. Moreover, in those
exchanges with the see of Canterbury, which the King himself proposed,
Cranmer endeavoured to protect it in its just rights by soliciting
Cromwell’s opinion of the terms, “forasmuch as he himself was a man
that had small experience in such cases, and had no mistrust at all in
his prince;”[407] and thus did he dexterously contrive to uphold and
transmit to his successors an ample revenue in most dangerous times;
and under a most despotic monarch. But the name of Edward could not be
interposed with the same success between the nobles and their pleasure,
and accordingly the see of Canterbury, nor that alone, is said to
have suffered more under Edward than under Henry himself; for the old
cry was raised of the luxury and covetousness of churchmen, and the
old precedents of dispensing half a dozen prebends to one earl, and
a deanery to another, (such had been the predicament of the Earl of
Hertford, and of Cromwell,)[408] were again acted upon; and laymen were
pensioned out of the bishoprics as they successively fell vacant;[409]
and many of the best estates were taken away, so that the wealthiest
sees could scarcely maintain their diocesans;[410] and scholars were
supplanted in the rewards of learning by their superiors in birth,
to the decay of the universities and of letters in general; so that
Ridley, now Bishop of London, Bonner having been deposed, being about
to give Grindal a prebend in St. Paul’s, is prevented by the council,
it being their pleasure that the King should have it for the furniture
of his stable, an indignity of which he loudly complains to Cheke, the
King’s tutor, urging him to speak out upon it in the proper quarter,
or to let that his letter speak.[411] Nor was this all; commissioners
were despatched into every part of England in the last year of
Edward, to gather such gleanings as were still left in the shape of
chantry-lands unsold, and furniture of churches; they were themselves,
however, commonly forestalled by the people, so that, according to
Heylyn, “many private men’s parlours were now hung with altar-cloths,
their tables and beds covered with copes instead of carpets and
coverlids, and many made carousing cups of the sacred chalices, as
once Belshazzar celebrated his drunken feast in the sanctified vessels
of the Temple.”[412] Thus the locusts took what had escaped from the
hail. How much further this dissipation of church property would have
been carried had Edward continued longer to fill the throne, it is
impossible to tell; certain it is, that it received a check from the
restoration of the Roman Catholic religion, for a season, under Mary;
and amongst the mysterious ways in which Providence works out its own
ends, that otherwise fatal reign might be the appointed barrier for
securing a reasonable provision still for the Church of England, and
thereby an efficient, because an intelligent and independent, clergy.
For the Roman Catholic party began now to be enlisted by the dictates
of common prudence on the conservative side. The signs of the times,
which were watched by all men with extreme anxiety, were seen to
be in their favour. The Princess Mary was a rallying point for the
partisans of the Church of Rome during the whole of Edward’s reign,
more suited to the office than a much cleverer woman less firm of
purpose. Her brother had reluctantly winked at the use of the mass
in her own chapel when it was forbidden elsewhere, hoping to win her
to a different mind, till the permission being abused, was at length
withdrawn, not, however, abruptly, for the affair was pending, out
of delicacy to her scruples, from June, 1549, to September, 1551;
when the council at length wrote to her, that her Grace’s example
“hindered the good weal of the realm, _which thing they thought was
not unknown to her_.”[413] But the spirits of the Romanists were
not to be thus broken down. For the three last years of Edward’s reign
their confidence was perpetually on the increase. The life of the
Princess was seen to be of fairer promise than the King’s, and an eye
to the character of the next in the succession is a striking political
feature of the times of which we are treating, when the balance
between contending factions was as yet scarcely struck either way. The
nobles who espoused the cause of the Reformers were at strife amongst
themselves; Somerset contending with his brother, the admiral, even to
the death; himself beheaded in his turn, and succeeded as Protector by
the Earl of Warwick, afterwards Duke of Northumberland, a man unpopular
and suspected. The adversaries of the Reformation were not slow to
take advantage of the disorder. Whilst the government was united, many
leading persons amongst them had recanted, and even Bonner and Gardiner
“began to condescend,” as Fox expresses it, “to good conformity;” but
they now took heart, turned about, and braved a persecution which was
likely to be short, and which was sure to recommend them to the future
sovereign.

On the other hand, the friends of the Reformation, reading these
prognostics the other way, had fearful forebodings of evils to come,
and were naturally cast down. The feverish condition of the public
mind is seen in the restless solicitude with which they treasured
such omens up. The execution of the Protector; the death of the Duke
of Suffolk and his brother by the sweating sickness, the sons of a
father who was Cranmer’s good friend, and themselves children of great
hope; the loss of Fagius and Bucer at a critical moment, were all
accounted harbingers of ill.[414] John Knox, too, like another son of
Ananus, lifted up his voice in various parts of England; and as he
marked the tide again setting in towards Rome, foretold for England
unquiet times, hiemem instare:[415] and, indeed, the general agitation
of those days, that feeling so forcibly expressed in the language
of Scripture by “distress of nations with perplexity,” is strongly
portrayed by an act of parliament which was passed in 1550, “Against
spreading of Prophecies,” as well as by the numbers of idle stories
of unnatural births and sea-monsters which were then propagated, and
which are faithfully preserved in the pages of the Chroniclers.[416]
Charity leads us to trust that the dark insinuations against the Duke
of Northumberland (as though he hastened the end of Edward for the
purpose of setting the crown on the head of Lady Jane Grey, who had
married his son,) had no other foundation than the intense anxiety
with which the life of the King was thus regarded by multitudes of
his subjects, who saw no other hope for themselves or for their cause
than the frail one its continuance afforded. Certain it is, that the
extracts given by Strype from Cranmer’s letters, to Cecil, who was in
attendance upon the court in a progress to England, the year before
the King’s death, cannot be fairly interpreted (though the honest
annalist is of a contrary opinion) as implying that the Archbishop was
then under any apprehensions for Edward’s personal safety.[417] And it
is very possible, that when the “wise woman” was called in at last (the
case becoming desperate,) the patient should have grown rapidly worse,
without any further imputation upon the empiric than presumption for
having attempted the cure, or upon the Protector than folly for having
permitted the attempt to be made.[418] But if we acquit Northumberland
of treason, it is not so easy to acquit him of treachery; for that the
dying prince should have made a will, not merely withholding the crown
from its rightful owner, the Princess Mary, (for considering the hearty
desire he entertained for the maintenance of the Protestant cause this
might have been his own act and deed,) but from his sister Elizabeth,
herself a Protestant, and to settle it upon a cousin who happened to be
the duke’s daughter-in-law, this looks like the machination of another
head than his own. This will Cranmer long refused to subscribe; but
at last, over-persuaded by the authority of the judges, all of whom
except Judge Hales, concurred in it, and above all, by the entreaties
of Edward himself, who represented the hopeless condition to which the
Reformation would be reduced by acquiescing in the natural descent of
the crown, (as if the wrath of man was to work the righteousness of
God,) in an evil hour he took the pen and signed the document and what
was tantamount to his own death-warrant together.

And now Edward, having finished his short but saintly course, his
sixteenth year not yet completed, commended his people to God,
especially beseeching him that he “would defend his realm from
papistry;” and then as he sunk in the arms of Sir Henry Sidney, he
exclaimed, “I am faint; Lord, have mercy on me; and receive my spirit;”
and so he departed. Thus ended this reign of mercy: for ill as the
principle of toleration was in those days understood, violently as it
had been outraged by Henry, who preceded, and as it was destined to be
by Mary, who followed him, during the six years that Edward sat upon
the throne, neither in Smithfield, nor in any other quarter of the
realm did any man suffer for religious opinion, whether Catholic or
Protestant, save the two of whom mention has been made already--the
Dutchman and Joan of Kent.[419] And even in cases of imprisonment and
deprivation, as in those of Bonner, Bishop of London, and Gardiner,
Bishop of Winchester, the parties were proceeded against rather as
political than religious delinquents, rather as rebels than heretics;
a doctrine being sedulously taught by these and other leaders of the
Catholic party, and echoed back both by the Princess Mary and by the
insurgents of Devon, that neither were the decrees of the council
binding, the regal power not being transferable, nor yet those of the
King, he being still a minor; wherefore, that the laws of the land,
as Henry left them, were those which were to be obeyed until the king
should come of age, and none other.[420] It is obvious that such a
principle, generally acknowledged and acted upon, would have ended
in leaving the country without any government at all; for if the old
statutes should prove inapplicable to an unforseen emergency, and
there were no authority adequate to supply the defect, anarchy must
ensue. It is true that advantage was sometimes taken of overt acts of
non-conformity on which to prosecute, because where there might be
moral, there might not be legal, evidence of disaffection, the offence
being difficult of proof; still here the gravamen no doubt lay of many
of the charges preferred against the Roman Catholic dignitaries, and
of the penalties inflicted on them in the reign of Edward; and the
necessity which lay upon the council of seeing that the commonwealth
took no damage at their hands in those dangerous times, may be thought
to excuse proceedings which, however, were attended by some aggravating
circumstances of rigour but too common in those days.

It is impossible to contemplate the death of Edward without feeling for
Cranmer and his colleagues in the Reformation. Their hearts might well
sink within them in that hour. They had gone boldly forward in their
great enterprise, beholding the danger before their eyes, for they
could not be blind to it, but determined to do their duty and fear not;
exasperating the Catholic party, headed as it was by a most bigoted
princess, then the presumptive, now the actual, possessor of the
throne, nor shrinking from incurring her personal displeasure, where
the interests of religion required the risk, by the honest counsel they
gave with respect to the concessions due to her, or the privileges
which it was fitting to deny or to resume. Now they were in a situation
which they must have long foreseen was likely to be their lot--at the
mercy of an implacable foe. And the days and nights of anxiety which
they must have spent at this crisis waiting for the policy of Mary
to disclose itself, must be carried to the account of those silent
sufferings which formed no small part of the purchase-money paid for
the church they bequeathed to us, and which were more insupportable,
perhaps, however less imposing, than the fire and the faggot itself.




                             CHAPTER XII.

      MARY.--SUPPRESSION OF THE REFORMATION.--PERSECUTION OF THE
                 REFORMERS.--FOX’S ACTS AND MONUMENTS.


That God seeth not as man seeth, is a truth which he, who reads history
aright, must soon be taught. Cranmer, overcome by his apprehensions for
the safety of the reformed church under a Catholic queen, had acted
from a principle of expediency, and placed, as far as an individual
could, the Lady Jane Grey on a throne which did not belong to her. Had
the event turned out as he hoped, had her seat been established, and
Mary been set aside forever, it is probable that the Protestant cause,
the very object which this act of injustice was meant to serve, would
never have been so successful as it proved; for it would have been
still fur-stripped of its temporal supports, and it would not have been
consecrated by the blood of the martyr. God therefore ordained for it
the fiery trial; and the Lady Jane was deposed almost as soon as she
was proclaimed, to make way for her sincere but narrow-minded successor.

Cranmer has fallen upon evil tongues, both in his life and in his
memory. A report was spread that he had declared for the mass; and,
indeed, that it had been actually restored, under his sanction, in
his own cathedral at Canterbury; a charge which he repelled in terms
the most indignant, saying, that it was not he that set it up there,
but “a false, flattering, lying, and dissembling monk,” one Dr.
Thornden; whilst at the same time he challenged the adversaries of the
Reformation to a public discussion of its principles, the soundness
of which he undertook to maintain. Yet Neal, who was not ignorant
of these facts, ungenerously keeps them back till he has indulged in
the repetition of the slander;[421] thus doling out reluctant and
compulsive justice to a man whose character Protestants ought surely
to protect with jealousy, be their denomination what it may. The
challenge, however, though it was not accepted was not overlooked,
and Cranmer was cited before the Queen’s commissioners, whether upon
the charge of heresy or treason or both, and was ordered to keep his
house at Lambeth. In the interval which elapsed before he was finally
committed to the Tower, he had probably ample opportunity to escape,
and was urged by his friends to profit by it, but a sense of what was
due to himself, and to those who looked up to him as the leader of the
Reformation in England, constrained him; and whilst he advised the
less conspicuous persons of his party to flee for their lives, as not
being so deeply pledged, as not in the same degree prejudicing their
cause by the abandonment of their country, and as having Scripture
for their warrant if they fled, he determined for himself to abide
the issue come what might, and if it was so required, to be faithful
even unto death. Perhaps, too, for himself, he might reckon upon some
grateful recollection in Mary, that her life had been spared by her
father at his intercession, and some reluctance on her part to shed
the blood of a man who had saved her as a daughter, though he had done
her some wrong as a queen. But Mary’s gratitude was too brief, or her
bigotry too vehement, to admit of this, and even Sir James Hales,
who had contended for her right succession at the critical moment
single-handed, was nevertheless committed to the Marshalsea, when,
like an honest judge as he was, he acted at the quarter sessions upon
the statutes of Henry and Edward touching the supremacy, which were
still unrepealed, and refused to bend the laws of the land to the
pleasure of the sovereign; and though he was not actually put to death
at the instance of the government, yet life was made intolerable to
him; so that having unsuccessfully attempted to end it with a knife
whilst in prison, on his release he drowned himself in a river near
his own house. The conduct of Mary was marked by the same ungrateful
oblivion of services rendered to her in times past, in the case of
the men of Suffolk. This was a county, in which, for whatever reason,
the Reformation seems to have taken an earlier and deeper root than
elsewhere; and accordingly, the Reformers of Suffolk, before they
declared for Mary against the Lady Jane, stipulated for liberty of
opinion in religious matters, to which proposal a “very hopeful answer”
was given:--She meant graciously not to compel or strain other men’s
consciences otherwise than God should, as she trusted, put in their
hearts a persuasion of the truth, through the opening of his word unto
them.” But no sooner was she firm in her seat, than she repeats the
concession in an artful proclamation, with the ominous addition, “until
such time as further order by common assent may be taken therein.”[422]
And, accordingly, Suffolk was soon to see the faggot lighted within
her borders, and men and women to be baptized with fire. Mary, indeed,
like her father, was of an unforgiving spirit: the memory of Cranmer’s
benefit had perished; and though, at length, he was absolved from the
charge of treason, a boon which could scarcely be refused to him when
it had been conceded to many others far more deeply implicated than
himself, it was only that he might be put upon his trial for heresy; a
commutation, which, however satisfactory to his feelings, was likely
to be equally fatal to his life, a merciful substitution of the stake
for the scaffold, and little more: for now the chief instruments of
the Roman Catholic party were again in activity; and the sword was
commanded to go through the land. Gardiner, again Bishop of Winchester,
in the room of Poynet, and now lord chancellor, and Bonner, Bishop of
London, for Ridley was deposed, began once more to play their tragical
parts, and whatever could be done by the most politic and the most
blood-thirsty of men to put the Reformation down was unscrupulously
adopted. Preachers were every where watched, in order that advantage
might be taken of any heretical doctrines which might escape them;
and the bird of the air told the matter, and denounced them to the
council, by whom they were silenced or imprisoned. Instructions,
moreover, were sent to all the bishops to deprive the married clergy
of their benefices, and to suspend them from officiating in a church;
an edict, by which, according to a computation of Archbishop Parker,
three fourths of all the ministers in England, according to others,
not more than one fourth, were ejected;[423] whilst the principle of
the measure confining its operation chiefly, though not entirely, to
such as maintained the opinions of the Reformers, caused the pulpits
throughout the country, at one swoop, to be again surrendered, in
whole, or in great part, to a Roman Catholic priesthood. From the
accession of Mary, which was in July, to the assembling of her first
parliament in October, there had been an unequal struggle continued
between the old and new forms of faith. It should seem that the feeling
of London had from the first set in for the Reformation. A preacher
at Paul’s Cross,[424] who had ventured to disparage Edward’s memory,
whilst making his court to Bonner, who was one of his hearers, excited
an uproar amongst the people which nearly cost him his life. A queen’s
guard was afterwards in attendance to protect the pulpit; and an order
was issued by the mayor, that the ancients of all companies should
be present, lest the preacher should be discouraged by his small
auditory.”[425] Still in the country the cause of the Pope was far
the more popular; custom pleaded for it; its pageants were agreeable
to the taste of the million; some hope, too, might be entertained of
the recovery of the rights of pasturage, if the abbeys were restored,
and of the charities and hospitalities, which had ceased to flow
since the suppression: then the disposition of the Queen was known
before she positively proclaimed it by her policy; her own practice
was enough to prove her future intentions; and such persons as were
of a neutral character, a very large class in every country, went
over to her side: above all, the Roman Catholic clergy, stimulated by
the recollection of past wrongs (as they would naturally hold), and
alive to the prospect of good things in store for them, put forth all
their strength; so that the parliament now assembled made no scruple
of reversing all the proceedings (save one) of the two former reigns,
and Mary became at once supreme, and her church once more dominant.
The single point to which the parliament, so compliant in points of
doctrine, was resolutely opposed, was a proposal for a relinquishment
of the abbey lands. This met with a vigorous resistance from their
present possessors; and Cromwell’s sagacity was now perceived when
he bound over the leading families of every county to keep the faith
delivered to them, in securities of their newly-acquired estates.
Mary, however, did not preach what she was not prepared to practise;
for her sincere and disinterested devotion to the Roman Catholic
persuasion was the virtue, the passion it might be rather said, of
her life; the piety of her mother had imparted to her in her cradle
a faith, which the subsequent sufferings of that mother must have
hallowed in her sight. She, therefore, with no selfish or secular
purpose, restored of her own free will whatever abbey lands had been
attached to the crown,[426] as well as the first-fruits and tenths,
a branch of papal revenue which Henry had indeed seized, but which
never, it was suspected, passed beyond the hands of Pole, the sole
commissioner for the disposal of it.[427] By Elizabeth, who succeeded
to an exhausted exchequer, it was resumed; nor was it finally restored
to the church, till Queen Anne, as we have said in a former chapter,
generously appropriated it to ecclesiastical purposes; and accordingly
it is now known under the name of Queen Anne’s Bounty, as a fund for
the augmentation of small livings. There were those who reminded Mary
that she was by this measure impairing the dignity of the crown; but
to such she honestly made answer, that “she set more by the salvation
of her soul than by ten kingdoms.” Happy would it have been if her
devotedness to the church in which she had been bred had shown itself
in no less objectionable way than this. Prelates there were, of her
own party too, who, had they been permitted to be keepers of such
a conscience, would have guided it for good, for there was much in
this sturdiness of purpose to be improved. Such a man was Tonstall,
perhaps such a man was Pole; but she had surrendered herself to
cruel advisers; and soon became persuaded, that when she was putting
honest men to death, or driving them into exile, she was doing God
service. Accordingly, a proclamation was now issued for expelling all
foreigners, many of whom had established themselves in England under
the encouragement of Cranmer, and had contributed at once by their
religious opinions and their scholarship to forward the Reformation,
and by their skill in manufactures to develope the industry of the
country. Together with these not fewer than eight hundred Englishmen,
students chiefly, anticipating more unquiet times still, also withdrew;
and betaking themselves to Frankfort, Strasburgh, Basle, Zurich,
Geneva, and other places, there contracted a disaffection for the
church of England, such as paved the way for the crisis which came
with the civil wars. The Queen’s marriage with Philip only tended to
confirm her prejudices. He was a bigot at heart, though sometimes of
fair profession; and of a bigoted nation; and his unwelcome arrival in
England was but a signal for riots among the people, and still greater
severity on the part of the government. Joan of Kent and the Dutchman
had been executed, probably under the law against Anabaptists, enacted
in Henry VIII.’s reign, a sect politically dangerous,[428] since they
maintained community of goods, the duty of destroying the ungodly, and
antinomianism in general. It was now, however, thought advisable to
have a clearer warrant for the death of heretics, which was meditated
upon a great scale; and the statutes against the Lollards, enacted
under Richard II., Henry IV., and Henry V., were revived.[429] Gardiner
has the infamous credit of the measure, though in its application he
seems to have had some misgiving; and after convicting a few persons,
and those the leaders of the Reformation, (he was even said to be
bending his bow at the chief deer of all, the Lady Elizabeth,) he
became weary of his work, and made over the service of blood to one
who took his pastime in it like a leech--the brutal Bonner.[430]
Fuller, who has no love for the Bishop of Winchester in general, makes
grateful mention of an act of mercy done by him to his own maternal
great-grandmother, one Mrs. Clark, who having ministered to the wants
of the bishop when threatened with consumption and living in retirement
for a while at Farnham Castle, at that time her residence, was allowed
to abide in her heresy (for she held the reformed faith), with his
connivance, and was even protected from the violence of others by his
authority. It is pleasant to be able to produce any redeeming incident
in these days of horror; for

              “as the candle in the dark,
    So shines a good deed in a naughty world.”

Isaac Walton exhorts his fisherman, when baiting with a frog, “to put
his hook through the mouth and out at his gills, and then with a fine
needle and silk to sew the upper part of his leg with only one stitch
to the arming wire of the hook, and in so doing to use him as though
he loved him.” And in the like compassionate spirit was it required
“in the bowels of the Lord Jesus Christ,” of those whose office it
was to burn men alive, “that the execution and punishment might be
so moderated that the rigour thereof might not be too extreme;”[431]
besides which it was the Queen’s particular desire that, both in London
and elsewhere, there should be “good sermons” preached at the time
of carrying the sentence into effect; so that whatever might be said
of the act itself, there was nothing to offend the most fastidious
philanthropy in the ceremonial.

For a history of that noble army of martyrs of whom it now becomes
our duty to speak, we are indebted to John Fox, himself an exile in
Mary’s reign, and like most of those who then lived abroad, a friend
of the Puritan principles at home. He had access to the archives and
registers of the bishops; Grindal, who was himself a great collector
of such materials, amongst others supplying him with what he knew;
and in many instances to the letters of the martyrs themselves;[432]
of all which documents, says Strype, he has been found, by those who
have compared his books with his authorities, to have made a faithful
use. He lived many years after his first edition was published, which
was in 1563, and in the interval laboured to render it still more
perfect; suppressing where he found reason to doubt, as in the story
of Cranmer’s heart remaining unconsumed when the rest of his body was
reduced to ashes;[433] enlarging where he was furnished with fresh
matter which he thought trustworthy, as in the story of Gardiner’s
being stricken with sickness on the day of Cranmer’s martyrdom;[434]
and taking journeys in order to confront witnesses and sift
evidence when his facts chanced to be called in question;[435] such
was his industry. But, independently of all knowledge of this, his
pains-taking, the internal evidence of the book is enough to establish
its general good faith. There is a simplicity in the narrative,
particularly in many of its minute details, which is beyond all
fiction; a homely pathos in the stories which art could not reach.
Sometimes an expression casually drops out which suffices to prove
the testimony to be that of an eye-witness; thus where the terrible
death of Ridley is described, the martyrologist speaks in general in
his own person; yet we read, that “after the legs of the sufferer were
consumed by reason of his struggling through the pain, he showed that
side toward _us_ clean, shirt and all untouched with flame,” as
though the informant (whose words the historian had here neglected
to accommodate) had been himself the spectator. Sometimes there is a
frank confession of ignorance, where a less scrupulous writer would
have been under a great temptation to supply the defect of information
by conjecture; thus, in the details of the same execution of Ridley
and Latimer, it is observed, that after they rose from their knees the
one talked with the other a little while, but what they said, adds
Fox, “I can learn of no man.” Above all, there is such candour in the
development even of his most favourite characters, their failings
as well as their virtues so fairly told, that it is plain they have
not been packed. Thus it is by him we are taught that Cranmer moved
the king to the execution of Joan of Kent, though Cranmer’s general
disposition would seem repugnant to such an office, and though
no mention is made in Edward’s Journal of any such interference,
or, indeed, of any reluctance on his own part which should render
it needful: thus of Latimer he does not conceal that he probably
subscribed on one occasion certain articles which the bishops presented
to him, of fear rather than of conscience;[436] and of Hooper, his
favourite, if he had one among the martyrs, that he disputed too
pertinaciously and to the breach of mutual charity, with his opponents
on the subject of the episcopal habits, and that the prospect of their
approaching death for the common cause, and nothing less, could effect
the cordial union of the parties. Neither does he suppress any instance
of kindness by which the sufferings of the martyrs were mitigated; and
as St. Luke tells us of the centurion entreating Paul courteously, so
does Fox relate of Saunders, that when his wife came to the prison
gate, with her young child in her arms to visit her husband, the
keeper, though he durst not suffer her to enter the prison, yet took
the little babe out of her arms and brought him to his father, to his
exceeding great joy: and of Hooper’s guard, that they interceded with
the sheriffs of Gloucester on behalf of their charge, that he might
not be sent to the common gaol, they declaring at large how quietly,
mildly, and patiently he had behaved himself in the way, and adding,
that they would rather themselves be at the pains to watch with him
than that he should be so handled: and of Rowland Taylor, that his wife
and son Thomas were permitted to sup with him in the Counter, “by the
gentleness of his keepers,” and afterwards, that of his guard three out
of the four used him friendly. It was to be expected that a work which,
had it been published a few years sooner, (supposing this possible,)
would probably have added its author to the catalogue of his own
martyrs, should excite no small stir among the Catholics, and so it
came to pass. But they weakened the force of their attack by betraying
prematurely the spirit which animated them, sarcastically inquiring,
even before its publication, when the “Golden Legend” was to appear,
and denouncing the “Calendar of Saints,” which they had heard was to
be prefixed to it, as blasphemy against their own. But Fox went on, as
he says, without fear and without favour; and no sooner was Elizabeth
to whom he dedicated, out of the way, than an examination of the book
appeared, by Parsons the Jesuit, in his “Three Conversions of England,”
which has furnished more modern objectors with most of the weapons of
their warfare. But Parsons writes in a temper which defeats itself.
He deals in vague vituperation rather than in specific accusations of
error; or where he ventures upon the latter, he often either wilfully
or ignorantly misreads Fox, as in the vapid pleasantry wasted upon
Joan Lashford, a married maid, as he is pleased to call her;[437] or
he triumphs over him by exposing a flaw in the character of a martyr
with an _eureka_, which the honest martyrologist himself did
not affect to conceal, and for the knowledge indeed of which Parsons
is altogether indebted to him, as where he makes himself merry with
the discordant sentiments of nine martyrs executed together, though
their want of uniformity is a fact which he learns from Fox himself,
who at the same time asserts that their disagreement was in smaller
things only;[438] or he prefers charges against him at random without
troubling himself to ascertain whether there is a foundation for them
or not, as where he accuses him of defacing or destroying the records
of cathedrals, which he had been permitted to use, lest they should
convict him of negligence or fraud, and this not upon investigation of
the fact, but simply, “he presuming it,” as though a charge so serious
was to be an affair of presumption only;[439] or lastly, he comments
upon his author in so fiendish a temper of mind, as would be in itself
enough to satisfy every calm and dispassionate judge that he spoke not
of truth or a love for it, but of mere malice; as where, after debasing
the circumstances of Rowland Taylor’s story throughout, he concludes
with a repetition of his joke about the worms in Hadley church-yard, as
given in Fox, and subjoins, “this noteth Fox in the margin for a goodly
apophthegm of Dr. Taylor, martyr; and with this, he saith he went to
the fire; _where we must leave him eternally, as I fear_;”[440]
and in a similar vein he has the heart to write of Latimer and Ridley,
“they were burned together, each of them taking gunpowder to despatch
himself quickly, as by Fox is seen, which yet is not read to have been
practised by old martyrs, and it seemeth that these men would have
the fame of martyrdom without the pain, and _now they have incurred
the everlasting pain_, if by their end we may judge.”[441] The man
who could write thus can scarcely lay claim to our credence; for his
prejudice has evidently stifled in him every sense by which a regard
for truth can be guaranteed.

It is not thought out of place to introduce here this brief vindication
of a book, which, so far as it is a contemporary history, has been,
both of old, and of late an object of unfair depreciation, but from
which no right-hearted Protestant can rise, without being at once a
sadder and better man;--a book, out of which we shall now fearlessly
draw our information, whilst we offer to our readers a few examples of
those terrible sufferings which it is at once humiliating to think that
man could inflict, and animating to think that man could so nobly bear.

The first called to take up his cross was John Rogers. He had been
brought up in Cambridge, and afterwards became chaplain of the
factory at Antwerp, where he fell into the company of Tindall and
Coverdale, and helped them to produce that translation of the Bible,
which goes by the name of Matthew’s translation. He thence removed to
Wittenberg, where he had the charge of a congregation for many years,
till Edward’s accession having rendered it safe for those who held
his opinions to return to their native land, he repaired thither with
his wife and children (for he was married), and was soon preferred by
Ridley to a prebend of St. Paul’s and to the divinity lectureship in
that cathedral. Thus was he in a situation to attract the attention
of Mary, and to be smitten by her evil eye. Accordingly, he was soon
brought before the council to answer for his doctrine; and having been
first confined to his house, where he remained half a year, and from
which he took no pains to escape, he was afterwards, by the tender
mercies of Bonner committed to Newgate, and lodged amongst the common
desperadoes of a gaol for twelve months more. In his examinations
before Gardiner and the council he played his part with the intrepidity
of one who felt strong in the righteousness of his cause, and with a
force of reasoning which it required the scoffs and brutal laughter of
his judges to smother, for answer it they could not. Kneeling on his
knees, he reminded them of their own acquiescence in the laws of Henry
and Edward; one amongst them, and he, the chief, having been the open
advocate of the King’s supremacy as opposed to that of the Pope. He
defended his own marriage, as being originally contracted in a country
where marriage was permitted to priests; and said that neither did
he bring his wife into England till the laws of England permitted it
too. With regard to service in an unknown tongue, and the doctrine
of the mass, he stayed himself upon Scripture. Gardiner exclaiming
against him, that “he could prove nothing by the Scripture, for that
Scripture was dead, and must needs have a lively expositor.” But all
was in vain, for they were bent to have his life, and having been on
several successive days brought before his judges, that some semblance
of justice might not be wanting, he was at last condemned; and on the
4th of February, in the year 1555, being Monday, in the morning, he
was warned suddenly by the keeper’s wife of Newgate to prepare himself
for the fire. He had been sound asleep; but being at length awakened,
and bid to make haste--“then,” said he, “if it be so I need not to tye
my points;” and so was he had down to Bonner to be degraded, of whom
he craved one petition, that he might talk a few words with his wife
before his burning; but this poor consolation was denied him; and being
led to Smithfield by the sheriffs, singing the Miserere as he went,
his wife, and eleven children, one at the breast, meeting him by the
way, his pardon still offered him at the stake, on condition of his
recantation, he bore himself through this most cruel temptation of
all with a stout heart, and bravely washing his hands in the flame as
he was burning, gave up his spirit to God. Notwithstanding the care
which had been taken to remove his writings, during his confinement in
prison, he had contrived to evade the vigilance of his keepers; and it
was supposed, that when he wished to have a word with his wife before
he was put to death it was to tell her where they were secreted. If
so, however, it proved needless; for when she and her son afterwards
visited his cell, and were on the point of going away, the latter
chanced to cast his eye toward a dark corner under a pair of stairs,
and there perceived a black packet of papers, which on examination
turned out to be an account of his trial, written in his own hand,
wherein was contained, as well many of the details already given, as a
very touching prayer, begging of God to sustain him, and all others,
in the like case, through their great need, and importuning all “to be
good to his poor and most honest wife, being a poor stranger; and all
his little souls, hers and his children; whom (he adds,) with all the
whole faithful and true catholic congregation of Christ, the Lord of
life and death save, keep, and defend, in all the troubles and assaults
of this vain world, and bring at the last to everlasting salvation,
the true and sure inheritance of all crossed Christians. Amen, Amen.”
So perished the first champion of the reformed church; and it has been
observed, in reference to their leader, that of those who underwent the
same fiery trial, married men, and the parents of many children, met
their deaths the most courageously.

On the 9th of February, five days after Rogers, died one who
had been with him in prison, and stood beside him at the same
judgment-seat--Hooper. He had escaped from the Six Acts in Henry’s
time, to the Continent, and returning when Edward reigned in the
room of his father, was promoted to the see of Gloucester. Of his
scruples respecting the habits and oath mention has been made already;
scruples, which his residence abroad had strengthened, and which his
own uncompromising temperament made him slow to abandon. He would have
found little difficulty in securing his safety by flight a second
time, but having now put his hand fairly to the plough, having been
the zealous preacher of the new doctrines, and a bishop under the new
establishment, he felt, that to withdraw from the trial, severe as it
was likely to prove, would be a dereliction of duty, and he determined
to brave the danger, come what might. He ran the gauntlet of the
inquisitional council, as Rogers had done before him, being tried
by the same questions, and taunted by the same scoffs, only, it is
remarkable, that Tonstall, Bishop of Durham, is said to have called
him “beast,” in consideration of his marriage; a reproach which, as
it was scarcely consistent with Tonstall’s general deportment to cast
in his teeth, he being a good man, and a foe to persecution, scarcely
allowing it to enter his own diocese, may be probably assigned to the
humane motive, which Fuller suggests, that he wished to _bark_ the
more, in order that he might be at liberty to bite the less;[442] and
by affecting rudeness of speech, qualify himself for being merciful
without suspicion. Hooper, however, was not to be saved. He was
married--he would not separate himself from his wife; and he did not
believe in the corporal presence in the sacrament; for these heresies
he was deprived and condemned. It was necessary to remove him from the
Clink, a prison not far from the church of St. Mary Overies, where
sentence was passed upon him, to Newgate, one of the worst of the bad
prisons of those times; and the precautions observed show the extreme
unpopularity of these sanguinary measures, and the blindness of a
government which could adopt them. He was kept till dark, and then led
by a sheriff, attended by bills and weapons, through the city, the
sergeants going forward to put out the candles of the costermongers,
who in those days sat in the streets; the people, nevertheless came in
spite of these precautions to their doors with lights to salute him as
he passed, and to strengthen his resolution by their cordial prayers.
On the night after Rogers’ martyrdom in Smithfield, he was informed by
his keeper that he was himself shortly about to die, not in Smithfield,
however, but at Gloucester, amongst the people over whom he had been
pastor. At this he rejoiced greatly; and sending for his boots, spurs,
and cloak, that he might be in readiness for the morrow, prepared
himself to set out with his guard before break of day for the scene
of his sufferings. There he arrived on the third evening after his
departure from London, amidst the tears and salutations of a multitude
of persons, who came out to meet him by the way. The evening before
his execution he retired early to rest, and having slept one sleep
soundly, passed the remainder of the night in prayer. The morrow was
market-day--the country people flocked in; the boughs of an elm tree,
near which the stake was fixed, were loaded with spectators; and over
the college gate, which commanded a view of the spot, stood a company
of priests. He had scarcely kneeled down to recommend his soul to God,
for the last time on earth, when, by a refinement of cruelty common in
those bloody days, a box was brought and laid before him on a stool,
containing his pardon if he would still turn in the eleventh hour. But,
he crying out again and again, “If you love my soul, away with it,”
there remained, it was said, no remedy but to despatch him quickly.
Then did he strip himself to the shirt; and a pound of gunpowder being
placed between his legs, and another under either arm, he mounted upon
a high bench, himself tall, and being bound to the stake by an iron
hoop round his middle, he awaited his end. But the faggots were green,
and kindled slowly; and the wind, which was high, drove the flame from
him, so that he was scorched only, till dry wood was brought, but
still in small quantities; and for a long while nothing but the lower
extremities was consumed; and he cried out in his protracted agony,
“For God’s sake, good people, let me have more fire!” It was not till
a third fire had been lighted that the gunpowder exploded: but neither
did this end his suffering; for he still continued to pray in a loud
voice, “Lord Jesus, have mercy upon me!” At length his tongue became
swollen so that he could not articulate; and one of his arms dropped
off; and after he had thus lingered three quarters of an hour, in
all the bitterness of the bitterest of deaths, he bowed forwards and
yielded up his life.

None of all the martyrs appear to have died so hardly as Hooper; none,
perhaps, to have left a stronger impression upon the minds of their
hearers; to which the austerity of his doctrines and severity of his
death alike contributed. His scruples and his tenets seem to have been
scattered far and wide over the dioceses of Gloucester and Bristol, to
come again after many days; for when Cheny some years afterwards was
appointed to these sees, he being, as was supposed, a Lutheran, and
being certainly a lover of ceremonial, found it impossible to reconcile
the sentiments of his clergy with his own; and, fretted by constant
conflict, became desirous to resign a charge, of which, indeed, he was
eventually deprived by the archbishop, and to return to a life of more
privacy and peace.[443]

But of the many beautiful histories in which Fox abounds, none is more
beautiful than that of Rowland Taylor, rector of Hadley. Though a mere
country parson, (for he had quitted the household of Cranmer, to whom
he was chaplain; in order to reside upon his benefice,)--possessed,
however, of a high spirit and popular talents--he seems to have taken a
lead in his own country; and following in the wake of Bilney, who had
preached in the same quarters, contributed to render Suffolk what we
have already described it--the soil in which the Reformation took the
kindliest root. The collateral effect of his influence and example may
be thought, perhaps, to be discovered in a circumstance which comes out
quite incidentally in the annals of that period; that one Dr. Drakes,
who was afterwards burnt at Smithfield, and one Yeomans at Norwich, had
both, we find, been connected with Rowland Taylor; the former having
been made deacon through his means,[444] the latter having been his
curate at Hadley.[445] We will not enter into all the details of this
thrice-told tale of sorrow--his pastoral faithfulness--his successful
teaching, so that his parish was remarkable for its knowledge of the
Word of God--his efforts to introduce to each other rich and poor,
by taking with him in his visits to the latter some of the more
wealthy cloth-makers, that they might become acquainted with their
neighbours’ wants, and thus be led to minister to their relief--his
bold defiance of the Catholic priest whom he found in possession of
his church, surrounded by armed men, and saying mass--his reply to
John Hull, the old servant who accompanied him to London when he was
summoned there before Gardiner, and who would fain have persuaded him
to fly--his frank and fearless carriage before his judges--his mirth
at the ludicrous apprehensions he inspired into Bonner’s chaplain,
who cautioned the bishop, when performing the ceremony of his
degradation, not to strike him on the breast with his crosier staff,
seeing that he would sure strike again--his charge to his little boy,
when he supped with him in prison before his removal to Hadley, not
to forsake his mother when she waxed old, but to see that she lacked
nothing; for which God would bless him, and give him long life on
earth and prosperity--his coming forth by night to set out upon his
last journey; his wife, daughter, and an orphan foster-child watching
all night in St. Botolph’s church-porch, to catch a sight of him as
he passed--their cries when they heard his company approach, it being
very dark; his touching farewell to them, and his wife’s promise to
meet him again at Hadley--his taking his boy before him on the horse on
which he rode, John Hull lifting him up in his arms--his blessing the
child; and delivering him again to John Hull, saying, “Farewell! John
Hull, the faithfullest servant that man ever had;”--the pleasantries,
partaking, indeed, of the homely simplicity of the times, with which
he occasionally beguiled the way--the joy he expressed at hearing that
he was to pass through Hadley, and see yet once before he died the
flock whom, God knew, he had most heartily loved and truly taught--his
encounter with the poor man who waited for him at the foot of the
bridge with five small children, crying “God help and succour thee! as
thou hast many a time succoured me and mine;”--his inquiry, when he
came to the last of the alms-houses, after the blind man and woman that
dwelt there; and his throwing his glove through the window for them
with what money in it he had left--his calling one Soyce to him out of
the crowd on Aldham Common, to pull off his boots and take them for his
labour, seeing that “he had long looked for them;”--his exclaiming last
of all with a loud voice, as though the moral of his life was conveyed
in those parting words, “Good people, I have taught you nothing but
God’s Holy Word, and those lessons that I have taken out of God’s
blessed book, the Holy Bible; and I am come hither this day to seal it
with my blood;”--these, and other incidents of the same story, combine
so many touches of tenderness with so much firmness of purpose--so
many domestic charities with so much heroism--such cheerfulness with
such disaster, that if there is any character calculated to call forth
all the sympathies of our nature, it is that of Rowland Taylor. God’s
blessing is still generally seen on the third and fourth generation of
them that love him; and if Rowland could have beheld the illustrious
descendant which Providence was preparing for him in Jeremy Taylor,
the antagonist of the Church of Rome, able after his own heart’s
content--the first and best advocate of toleration--the greatest
promoter of practical piety that has ever, perhaps, lived amongst
us--he might have humbly imagined that God had not forgotten this his
gracious dispensation in his own case; and had approved his martyrdom,
by raising from his ashes a spirit more than worthy of his name.

The fate and fortunes of Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer were so closely
united that their history is a common one. Of Cranmer’s rise and
advancement mention has been made already. Ridley was well born
coming of a good stock in Northumberland; his reputation was great
in Cambridge, where he was first a student and then the Master of
Pembroke College. Henry promoted him to the see of Rochester; and
Edward translated him to that of London. He was a man of vast reading,
ready memory, wise of counsel, deep of wit, and very politic in all
his proceedings. Though abundantly kind to his kinsfolks, he declared
even to his brother and sister, that doing evil they should look for
nothing at his hand; such was his integrity; and when the mother of
Bonner was his near neighbour at Fulham, he gave her a welcome to his
table (an attention which was afterwards but ill returned by her son),
assigning to her a chair of her own; so that even when the king’s
council dined with him, he did not suffer her to be removed, saying,
“By your Lordships’ favour, this place, by right of custom, is for my
mother Bonner;” such was his tenderness. His life, which is probably a
picture of that of the higher ecclesiastics of his time, was conducted
with great regularity. Every morning, as soon as he had put on his
clothes, he prayed in his chamber for half an hour; thence to business
or to study till ten; after which he assembled his household for family
prayers; dinner came next, which, with chess, engaged him for an hour;
when, if there were no suitors, or matters to be transacted abroad,
he returned to his study till five; evening prayers followed, then
supper and his favourite chess; again his books till eleven o’clock,
and so his private devotions performed as in the morning, he ended his
peaceful day. Of the chapters which he selected for the instruction
of his own people (of whom, says Fox, he was marvellous careful), the
13th chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, and the 101st Psalm, were the
most often in his mouth. In his public character Ridley was, doubtless,
one of the brightest lights of the Reformation, yet not such as to
extinguish Cranmer,[446] though some have so accounted him, contrary to
his own modest testimony to the superior knowledge of the Archbishop,
“who passed him,” said he, “no less than the learned master the young
scholar,” and in spite of the numerous acknowledged productions of
Cranmer, and the little we know of Ridley beyond his Examinations,
Treatises, and Letters (all most able indeed), preserved in the pages
of Fox.

Latimer was a man of more humble birth than the two former, being
a small farmer’s son at Thurcaston, in Leicestershire, a condition
in life which qualified him, perhaps, so eminently for spreading
the doctrines of the Reformation amongst the people, whose tastes
and phraseology, as well as their failings and faults, he, of all
the leading Reformers, seems to have best understood; and he was
accordingly honoured by the title of the Apostle of England. Fastidious
hearers would indeed find much to shock them in the homely speech and
extravagant jokes of Latimer, though probably in this he did but follow
an example which the friars had set him; but the earnest sincerity
of the man overcame all obstacles, and recommended him to the court,
as well as to the country, for an engine of the Reformation powerful
beyond most others. The see of Worcester, to which he was elected by
Henry, he took the first opportunity of resigning; an opportunity given
him by the Act of the Six Articles, and when he might have resumed it
he held back, living with Cranmer at Lambeth, as a private individual,
accessible to suitors, whose cases he forwarded to the primate; greeted
by the people still with the title of Lord, for they rejoiced to pay
him honour; and the favourite even of the boys in the streets, who
cheered him as he approached his ever popular pulpit with some hearty
word of encouragement to say on. Still there was something in Latimer
(even in those times, when it was not much the practice of the preacher
to go bridle in hand,) which seems to have stamped him as a humourist
amongst his unrefined contemporaries; and a few words of advice which
Cranmer gives him in a letter written when he was about to make his
first essay as a preacher at court--a situation to which the archbishop
had himself introduced him--indicate that he looked upon the experiment
not without some little apprehension for the result. “Overpass or
omit,” says the discreet adviser, “all manner of speech either apertly
or suspiciously sounding against any _special_ man’s facts,
manners, or sayings, to the intent your audience have none occasion
thereby, namely, to slander your adversaries, which would seem to many
that you were void of charity, and so much the more unworthy to occupy
that room. Nevertheless, if such occasion be given by the word of God,
let none offence or suspicion be unreprehended, especially if it be
_generally_ spoken, without affection. Furthermore, I would that
you should so study to comprehend your matter, that in any condition
you stand no longer in the pulpit than an _hour or an hour and
half_ at the most, for by long expense of time, the King and the
Queen (Anne Bullen) shall peradventure wax so weary at the beginning
that they shall have small delight to continue throughout with you to
the end.”[447]

Ridley and Latimer, like Cranmer, had favoured the usurpation of
the Lady Jane; and, accordingly, were also sent to the Tower on the
accession of Mary. The charge against them, however, was commuted
(as we have seen was the case with the archbishop), and they were
proceeded against as heretics. The tower being full--for the prisons
were then the chambers of the prophets--the three friends, together
with Bradford, were thrust into the same room, where they read over
the New Testament, and confirmed each other in the faith for which
they were to die. Here they remained about six months, during which
time disputations (such as they were) were held in the convocation on
some of the controverted points; from which, however, the reformers in
prison, who were the most learned of the body, were excluded: whilst
the few of that persuasion who were present, and who dared to advocate
their principles, were clamoured down, till at length the Romanists,
awakened to some sense of shame at the scandal of a victory which they
won by confining or silencing their opponents, agreed to transfer the
debate to Oxford; there to be conducted by the ex-bishops on the one
hand, and certain commissioners from both universities on the other;
and for Oxford, Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer set out from the Tower,
on the 8th of March, 1554. Here they were consigned to a prison called
Bocardo--a building which it is matter of regret it should have been
needful to pull down not more than about sixty years ago; and, on the
14th of April, they were brought out together to St. Mary’s church,
when the questions submitted to them were these:--

1. Whether the natural body of Christ was really in the sacrament?

2. Whether any other substance did remain after the words of
consecration, than the body of Christ?

3. Whether in the mass there was a sacrifice and propitiation for the
sins of quick and dead?

The dispute was then fixed for Cranmer on the 16th, for Ridley on the
17th, and for Latimer on the 18th of the same month.

In the management of this famous argument, which was conducted by
syllogism and in the schools, we have an excellent example of the
ratiocinations of those days. Certainly, the Roman Catholic doctors
displayed no lack either of policy or acuteness; but it was the policy
of men aware of their weakness, and therefore slow to measure their
strength; and the acuteness of sophists whose object it was rather
to perplex the adversary, than to unravel the truth; it was one of
those cowardly conflicts, “ubi tu cædis, ego vapulo tantum;” where
one strikes and the other must be content to be smitten--the popish
disputants putting objections to the reformers, but refusing to appoint
a second meeting in which the reformers might retaliate, so Cranmer
complains to the council--where a single defendant is assailed by a
multitude of discordant voices, lifted up against him together--and
where, at intervals, the partial prolocutor would translate into
English, after a fashion of his own, for the benefit of the unlearned
spectators, some passage in the dialogue which served as a signal
for hisses, peals of laughter, and shouts of “Vicit veritas!” to the
extinction of all fair argument, and the confusion of all modest men.
“I have but one tongue,” cries Ridley, “I cannot answer at once to
you all.” “O what unright dealing is this!” he again exclaims, on
hearing the perverted quotations which he was not permitted to expose.
Whilst poor Latimer, faint, and afraid to drink for vomiting; making
an appeal moreover to Weston, enough to touch a stone; “Good master,
I pray be good to an old man: you may, if it please God, be once as
old as I am; you may come to this age and this debility,” is subjected
to clamour still more inhuman; for he disputed in English, and was
therefore better understood. “Although,” says he, “I have spoken in
my time before two kings more than once, two or three hours together
without interruption, now (that I may speak the truth by your leave) I
cannot be suffered to declare my mind before you; no, not by the space
of a quarter of an hour, without snatches, revilings, checks, rebukes,
taunts, such as I have not felt the like in such an audience all my
life long.”

The glory of this contest (as we find it detailed in Fox)[448]
certainly rests with Ridley, rather than with Cranmer, who had probably
less nerve, or Latimer who had less learning. He adheres to one line
of argument--that of explaining all the authorities advanced against
him of the _spiritual_ presence only; and this he does with a
knowledge of his subject, as well as a readiness in applying it; such
as argue an extent of reading, a tenacity of memory, and a presence of
mind, quite wonderful. Be they passages from Scripture, from fathers,
or from the canons of councils, with which he is plied, they appear to
be the last things which he had examined, so that a false reading, or
a false gloss, or a packed quotation, never escapes him; and either
a minute knowledge of an author’s text, or (what is often quite as
certain a proof of scholarship) an accurate perception of the general
spirit which influences him, enables him to wrest the weapon from the
hands of his adversaries, and to turn it against themselves. “If there
was an Arian,” exclaimed one of them, in the bitterness of defeat,
“which had that subtle wit that you have, he might soon shift off the
authority of the Scriptures and fathers.” All, however, was to little
purpose before judges who, like Virgil’s Rhadamanthus, were bent upon
punishing first and convicting afterwards. Sentence was passed in St.
Mary’s Church, where Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer were convened; in the
course of it, they were asked by the commissioners whether they would
turn or no; but they bade them “read on in the name of God, for that
they were not minded to turn; and so were they condemned all three.”

It was intended to act the same scene over again at Cambridge, where
Hooper, Bradford, Taylor, Philpot, and some others not yet put to
death, were to be baited; but they had received timely information of
the treatment of their companions at the sister university, and refused
to dispute, except in writing, or before the Queen, or either house of
parliament, and, accordingly, the tyrannous scheme was in this instance
abortive.

But though condemnation of heresy was now passed upon these three
leaders of the Reformation, the execution of the sentence was
suspended, in the case of Ridley and Latimer till the October of
the year following, a period of eighteen months; and in the case of
Cranmer, for five months longer still; the two former being committed
to the custody of private individuals, the latter being still kept
in Bocardo. The interval, however, was a busy one; the sentence was
to be confirmed by the Queen in council; but the law itself was not
determinate; and the old penal statutes (as we have said) were
restored. Probably this measure would have been recommended by such
advisers as Mary had about her under any circumstances; but her
marriage with Philip, which was now concluded, blew up the flames; and
the bloody acts were passed and carried into effect, it was understood,
with the greater severity, from a superstitious opinion entertained by
the Queen, who now fancied herself pregnant, that her safe delivery
could not be effected so long as a heretic was suffered to live. But,
trying as must have been the suspense to these brave spirits in prison,
it was not without its benefit to the cause for which they were content
to suffer; for now it was that they had leisure to write those numerous
letters of counsel, of encouragement, and of comfort, (like St. Paul in
his bonds,) to the faithful brethren both individuals and societies,
which are said to have forwarded the Reformation beyond most other
things: a fact at which none will be surprised who will peruse those
which Fox has preserved to us; and above all Ridley’s Letter, entitled
his last farewell to all his true and faithful friends in God, which
has been ever esteemed one of the most pathetic pieces of writing
contained in our language.

“As a man minding to take a far journey,” says he, “and to depart from
his familiar friends; commonly and naturally hath a desire to bid his
friends farewell before his departure; so likewise now, I, looking
daily when I should be called to depart hence from you, bid you all, my
dear brethren and sisters in Christ, that dwell upon the earth, after
such manner as I can, farewell.

“Farewell, my dear brother, George Shipside, whom I have ever found
faithful, trusty, and loving in all states and conditions, and now in
the time of my cross, over all other to me most friendly and steadfast,
and that which he liked me best over all things, in God’s cause ever
hearty.

“Farewell, my dear Sister Alice, his wife. I am glad to hear of thee,
that thou dost take Christ’s Cross, which is laid now (blessed be God!)
both on thy back and mine, in good part. Thank thou God that hath given
thee a godly and loving husband: see thou honour and obey him according
to God’s law. Honour thy mother-in-law, his mother and all those that
pertain unto him, being ready to do them good, as it shall lie in thy
power.

“Farewell, my clearly beloved brother John Ridley, of the Waltown, and
you my gentle and loving sister Elizabeth, whom, besides the natural
league of amity, your tender love which you were said ever to bear
towards me above the rest of your brethren, both bind me to love.
My mind was to have acknowledged this your loving affection, and to
have acquitted it with deeds, and not with words alone. Your daughter
Elizabeth I bid farewell, whom I love for the meek and gentle spirit
that God hath given her, which is a precious thing in the sight of God.

“Farewell, my beloved sister of Unthank, with all your children,
nephews, and nieces. Since the departing of my brother Hugh, my mind
was to have been unto them instead of their father; but the Lord God
must and will be their Father, if they would love and fear him, and
live in the trade of his law.”

He then goes on to take leave of other kindred more distantly related
to him, and to declare the duty which compelled him to lay down his
life. He next reviews and defends the acts of Edward’s Reformation,
to which he had been a party; laments that the wild boar should have
rooted them all up; contrasts the present with the past; and returning
once more to his sorrowful leave-taking, “To whom,” says he, with
feelings far more to be envied than those of Gibbon or Gray, “to whom,
after my kinsfolk, should I offer farewell, before the University of
Cambridge, where I have dwelt longer, found more faithful and hearty
friends, received more benefits (the benefits of my natural parents
only excepted,) than ever I did in mine own native country wherein I
was born?

“Farewell, therefore, Cambridge, my loving mother and tender nurse!
If I should not acknowledge thy manifold benefits, yea, if I should
not for thy benefits at least love thee again, truly I were to be
counted too ungrateful and unkind. What benefits hadst thou ever, that
thou usest to give and bestow upon thy best beloved children, that
thou thoughtest too good for me?... First to be scholar, then to be
fellow, and after my departure from thee, thou calledst me again to
a mastership of a right worshipful college. I thank thee, my loving
mother, for all this thy kindness; and I pray God that his laws, and
the sincere Gospel of Christ, may ever be truly taught and faithfully
learned in thee.

“Farewell, Pembroke Hall, of late mine own college, my care and my
charge! What case thou art now in, God knoweth; I know not well. Thou
wast ever named since I knew thee, which is now thirty years ago, to be
studious, well learned, and a great setter forth of Christ’s Gospel,
and of God’s true word: so I found thee, and, blessed be God, so I
left thee indeed. Woe is me for thee, mine own dear college, if ever
thou suffer thyself by any means to be brought from that trade. In thy
orchard (the walls, buts, and trees, if they could speak, would bear
me witness) I learned without book almost all Paul’s Epistles; yea,
and I ween all the Canonical Epistles, save only the Apocalypse. Of
which study, although in time a great part did depart from me, yet the
sweet smell thereof I trust I shall carry with me into heaven; for the
profit thereof I think I have felt in all my lifetime ever after; and
I ween of late (whether they abide now or no, I cannot tell) there was
that did the like. The Lord grant that this zeal and love toward that
part of God’s word, which is a key and true commentary to all the Holy
Scripture, may ever abide in that college as long as the world shall
endure!”

He then bids farewell to Herne, his parish in Kent, charging himself
with being its debtor for the doctrine of the Lord’s Supper; God not
having at that time revealed it to him.

Then he turns to London, lately his own see, the faithful city now
become an harlot, and exhorts to repentance the lords of the land;
reminding them, that if they had listened to him in times past, when he
preached before the prince and parliament, much more should they now,
when, being appointed to die, he could have no desire of worldly gain,
and no other expectation but shortly to stand before the seat of his
eternal Judge.

Long it was not, before his summons arrived. At the end of September
came down the fatal commissioners from Cardinal Pole, legate and
archbishop elect, authorised to accept the recantation of Ridley
and Latimer, or else to confirm their sentence and pronounce their
degradation. The latter office they were speedily called upon to
discharge, for the future martyrs were not men to flinch from the
flames; and so “were they committed to the secular powers,” (for the
words of these ecclesiastical death-warrants were smoother than oil)
“of them to receive due punishment according to the tenor of the
temporal laws.”

“The night before Ridley suffered, his beard was washed, and his
legs; as he sat at supper the same night at master Irish’s (who was
his keeper), he bade his hostess, and the rest at the board, to his
marriage: ‘For,’ saith he, ‘to-morrow I must be married;’ and so
showed himself to be as merry as ever he was at any time before; and
wishing his sister at his marriage, he asked his brother, sitting at
the table, whether she should find in her heart to be there or no;
and he answered, ‘Yea, I dare say, with all her heart;’ at which word
he said he was glad to hear of her so much therein. So at this talk
mistress Irish wept; but master Ridley comforted her, and said, ‘O,
mistress Irish, you love me not now, I see well enough; for in that you
weep it doth appear you will not be at my marriage, neither are content
therewith. Indeed, you be not so much my friend as I thought you had
been: but quiet yourself; though my breakfast shall be somewhat sharp
and painful, yet I am sure my supper shall be more pleasant and sweet.’
When they arose from the table, his brother offered him to watch all
night with him; but he said, ‘No, no, that you shall not; for I mind,
God willing, to go to bed, and to sleep as quietly to night as ever I
did in my life.’ So his brother departed, exhorting him to be of good
cheer, and to take his cross quietly, for the reward was great.”

The place appointed for the execution was the ditch on the north side
of the town, over against Baliol College, and the Lord Williams was
instructed by the Queen’s letters to marshal the householders, and to
see that no tumult was made. Then came out Ridley in his black furred
gown and velvet cap, walking between the mayor and an alderman. As he
passed Bocardo he looked up, hoping to see Cranmer, but he, says Fox,
was then engaged in dispute with one Friar Soto; others, however, whom
Heylyn and Burnet follow, assert that he beheld the whole sorrowful
spectacle from the roof of his prison, and upon his knees begged God
to strengthen his companions in their agony, and to prepare him for
his own. When Latimer came up, (for the poor old man made what speed
he could, but by reason of his years was slow,) Ridley ran to him and
kissed him, saying, “Be of good heart, brother; for God will either
assuage the fury of the flame, or else strengthen us to abide it.”
Then they kneeled down both of them, and prayed very earnestly; and
when they had risen and talked together awhile, Dr. Smith, one of
those who had recanted in Edward’s time, and was now, therefore, the
more zealous, preached before them, having the feeling to choose for
his text, “Though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity,
it profiteth me nothing.” After a while being commanded to make
ready, Ridley gave away his apparel, a new groat, some nutmegs, rases
of ginger, a dial, and such other things as he had about him, the
bystanders but too happy to get “any rag of him;” and Latimer, who had
left it to his keeper to strip him, now stood in his shroud no longer
the withered and decrepit old man he seemed, but bolt upright, “as
comely a father as one might lightly behold.” Then did Ridley move the
Lord Williams to intercede that the leases which he had made as Bishop
of London might be confirmed; and when he had relieved his conscience
of this his only worldly care, a kindled faggot was laid at his feet;
Latimer, who was fastened to the same stake, exclaiming at the instant,
in words that have become memorable, “Be of good comfort, master
Ridley, and play the man; we shall this day light such a candle, by
God’s grace, in England, as I trust shall never be put out.”

Latimer’s sufferings were short: he received the flame as if he were
embracing it; and after he had stroked his face with his hands and
bathed them a little in the fire, he soon died as it appeared, without
pain. Not so Ridley; the faggots were piled up about him so that there
was no vent for the flame, which, burning underneath, consumed all his
lower extremities, he piteously desiring of the people, for Christ’s
sake, to let the fire come unto him. His brother-in-law, who meant
it in mercy, heaped upon him still more fuel, till nothing could be
seen of him, only he was perceived to be leaping up and down under
the faggots, often crying out, “I cannot burn;” at last one of the
spectators, pulling off the wood from above, made a way for the flame
to escape, towards which Ridley leaned himself as towards a welcome
executioner, when the gunpowder with which he was furnished, exploded,
and he fell down dead at Latimer’s feet.

If it was not Gardiner’s jealousy of Pole, who was to succeed
Cranmer in the primacy, which was the occasion of the archbishop’s
respite,[449] the plan of the persecution was arranged with consummate
sagacity. Ridley and Latimer were men of greater animal courage than
Cranmer; and would probably have sustained the insidious temptations
under which he sunk, or at any rate would have imparted their own
constancy to him, had they all suffered together. They, therefore were
taken, and he was left; for though the same legal form which served
for the despatch of the two former would not have sufficed for the
archbishop--it being reserved for the pope himself to take cognizance
of a metropolitan--yet inasmuch as all the parties had been prisoners
so long; ample time had been allowed for making the two processes run
together, and thereby bringing the three bishops together to the stake.
Cranmer, however, was assailed by a separate commission which issued
from the pope, as the other issued from the legate, and since a part of
the form consisted of a citation to appear at Rome within eighty days,
the final sentence was suspended till that period should have expired.
The citation itself was an affair of mere mockery, compliance with it
being impossible, for Cranmer was still detained a close prisoner.
The eighty days at an end, and he “having taken no care to appear at
Rome” (as the papal instrument had the modesty to word it), the pope
pronounces him guilty of heresy; and appoints Bonner Bishop of London,
and Thirlby Bishop of Ely, commissioners to see the same executed.
His degradation having been effected, attended by every aggravation of
insult which the ruthless Bonner could devise, he was delivered over
to the secular power, (the church, forsooth, shrinking from the office
of shedding blood,) to be put to death. One attempt more, however,
was yet to be made to shake the resolution of the martyr; and Cranmer
became the guest of the Dean of Christ Church, and delicate fare was
provided for him; and he played at bowls; and walked at his pleasure;
and wily men distilled their venom into his ear, that the King and
Queen desired his conversion above all things; that the council bore
him good will; that it was but a small thing to set his name to a few
words on a little leaf of paper; that he was not so old but that many
years yet remained of lusty age; that his notable learning, which
might profit so many, should not be extinguished before its time;
that if desire of life were nothing, yet that death is grievous, and
especially such a death; till Cranmer, who had stoutly withstood the
judgment-hall and prison-house, the scoffs and gibes of merciless men,
and all the terrible artillery of persecution in its most angry shape,
was not proof against these crafts and subtleties which the devil or
man wrought against him, and so signed his recantation. “To conceal
this fault,” may we say as Fuller does on the subscription of Jewel,
“had been partiality; to excuse it, flattery; to defend it, impiety; to
insult over him, cruelty; to pity him, charity; to be wary of ourselves
in any like occasion, Christian discretion.” His enemies now had him
in the toils; and, to add to his humiliation, a series of recantations
is exacted of him, each rising above the other in its demands; some
perhaps, of his own dictating; the longest and most abject, apparently,
the wordy composition of Cole; and whilst these very instruments were
in preparation, with a duplicity which is a fit consummation of the
whole, secret orders were given by the Queen to Dr. Cole, provost of
Eton College, to prepare the sermon; and it was not till the day before
his execution, or even, perhaps, the very morning of it, when Cole
visited him in prison, and furnished him with fifteen crowns to give
to the poor--a dole not unfrequent at funerals in those times--that
the eyes of Cranmer were quite opened to the situation in which he
stood, and he found himself, after all the delusive hopes which had
been held out to him, within a few hours of a dreadful end. Better
faith might have been kept with him, and still a thirst for his blood
been gratified; for, had he been spared, Cranmer was not the man to
have borne for any long time the upbraidings of his own conscience,
and, like Bilney, he would have been soon driven to find relief from
sufferings worse than death, by a voluntary surrender of himself to
the flames; as it was, the wisdom of the serpent, for which the church
of Rome was so famous, forsook his persecutors, and by drawing their
bow once too much, they snapped it in their hands;--“Qui nimis emungit
elecit sanguinem.” Cranmer was now brought to St. Mary’s church,
preceded by the mayor and aldermen, and with a friar on either side,
who alternately repeated certain Psalms as the procession advanced; and
being placed on a stage over against the pulpit, he was there made to
listen to Cole’s address. This ended, all the congregation joined with
him in prayer, and “never,” says a spectator, “was there such a number
so earnestly praying together; Cranmer himself an image of sorrow, the
dolour of his heart bursting out at his eyes in plenty of tears,” but
in other respects retaining “the quiet and grave behaviour which was
natural to him.”

Being exhorted to make a public confession, that all suspicion of
heresy might be removed from him, “I will do it,” said the Archbishop,
“and that with a good will;” whereupon he rose up and addressed to the
people some words of exhortaion, and then a summary of his faith. “And
now,” he continued, “I come to the great thing that so much troubleth
my conscience, more than any thing that ever I did or said in my whole
life:” then he revoked his former recantation: “and forasmuch,” he
added, “as my hand offended, writing contrary to my heart, my hand
shall first be punished therefor; for may I come to the fire, it shall
be first burned.” So saying, he was soon plucked down from the platform
on which he stood, and was led away to punishment. He did not tarry
long at his prayers; but putting off his garments, all but his shirt,
which reached to the ground, his feet bare, his head bald, so that not
one hair could be seen upon it, his beard, long and thick, covering
his face with marvellous gravity, he presented a spectacle to move the
heart both of friend and foe; at once the martyr and the penitent. As
soon as the fire began to burn, he stretched forth his right arm, and
thrust his hand into the flame, as he had said, holding it there till
it was consumed, and oftentimes repeating, “This unworthy right hand;”
and as if ashamed of his weakness, and resolved to atone for it now by
an heroic contempt of pain, he took his death with singular courage,
seeming to move no more than the stake to which he was bound.

From John Rogers, the first of the martyrs, who suffered on the 4th of
February, 1555, to the five who were burned at Canterbury on the 10th
of November, 1558, and were the last, two hundred and twenty-seven
persons according to some computations, two hundred and eighty-four
according to others, and two hundred and eighty-eight according to a
third authority, perished in the flames.[450] How many more might have
been added to the number of victims, had Mary’s life been spared, it
is impossible to conjecture, but happily those days were shortened;
and on the 17th of November she herself ended a reign of continued
disaster; Calais, which had been in possession of the English since the
battle of Creçy, and then reckoned the jewel of the crown, lost; and
lost apparently because the government dared not call a parliament to
provide means of defence, such was its unpopularity;[451] a heavy debt
contracted, less for national objects than to minister to the wants
of the Spaniards; an exchequer too much exhausted to right itself;
the learned men in exile; the universities a prey to the same Spanish
rapacity;[452] the kingdom at large corrupted by Spanish vices,[453]
and by a return to the law of clerical celibacy;[454] capital offences
greatly multiplied; fifty-two persons being executed at Oxford at one
session;[455] a pestilence depopulating the country to such a degree
as to excite fears of a French invasion by reason of the nation’s
weakness; for the inhabitants of the villages ceased, might Elizabeth
say on her accession; they ceased in Israel, until that I arose, that
I arose a mother in Israel; so that at length it was discovered that
the Roman Catholic cause, for which alone Mary had lived, and would
have been content to die, had by her own measures or misfortunes been
brought to nought; and above all, that the fires of Smithfield had shed
upon it a baleful and disastrous light. Instead of any attempt being
made to alter the succession, though the queen of Scots was at hand
as a candidate for the crown--of such pretensions, too, as would have
been likely to secure her some support at another time--Elizabeth,
Protestant as she was known to be, was advanced to the throne by
acclamation; bonfires lit in the streets before Mary was cold; tables
spread for merry-making in honour of her successor; costly pageants
prepared for her as she traversed the city, the children crying out,
God save Queen Elizabeth![456] the moderate revolted from a religion
which spake of peace, but had shed blood upon the earth like water; and
all parties weary of a reign of terror under which every man’s safety,
to whatever party he belonged, was only upon sufferance.




                             CHAPTER XIII.

   ELIZABETH.--HER ACCESSION.--HER CAUTION.--REFORMATION AGAIN
   TRIUMPHANT.--RETURN OF THE EXILES.--JEWEL.--INJUNCTIONS OF
   ELIZABETH COMPARED WITH THOSE OF EDWARD.--PROGRESS OF THE
   PURITANS.--THE REFORMATION NOT COMPLETED. CONCLUSION.


Such was the great agony through which the Reformation was doomed to
pass. But that which thou sowest is not quickened except it die, and
so it proved in this instance. The reign of Mary was the grave of the
cause for a short season, and that of Elizabeth was now to be its
triumphant resurrection. It will not, however, be necessary to pursue
our subject much further, which, from a History of the Reformation,
would soon run into a History of Puritanism, the extreme to which it
degenerated for a while. Into this question it is not our intention
to enter. For the present, little remained to be done, but to repeal
the several laws by which Mary had superseded the acts of Henry and
Edward, and to resume the use of those services and rituals which the
martyrs had provided, and of which the nature and number have been
already told. But Elizabeth proceeded warily. Well as her religious
sentiments were understood, none but the most attentive observer could
have at first detected them in her conduct. A figure of Truth greets
her with a translation of the Bible in its hand; she takes the book
and reverently kisses it. A court buffoon beseeches her to restore to
freedom four prisoners long bound in fetters, Mathew, Mark, Luke, and
John; she answers that she must first endeavour to know the minds of
the prisoners themselves. At her coronation in Westminster Abbey, she
partakes of the mass;[457] on Christmas day, which was about a month
later, she demurs to hear it.[458] The puritans make haste to pull
down the images; she bids them hold their hand. Unlicensed preachers,
be they of what denomination they may, Catholics or Protestants she
silences alike. The marriage of the clergy, much as the measure was
desired by the leaders of the Reformation, she refuses, connives at,
at last reluctantly concedes. She offends the zealots of both parties,
for she openly espouses the cause of neither;[459] but she makes that
party her own, which represents the sober, the stable, the somewhat
phlegmatic good sense of the English people; a party without which
no government, however brilliant, can be safe; and with which none,
however unattractive, can be long in danger. Such policy was natural to
herself;--“My sweet sister _Temperance_,” was the name by which
her brother loved to call her; and, moreover she had been nursed in the
school of caution, and for years one word or deed of indiscretion might
have cost her her head. Such policy, too, was after the heart of Cecil,
perhaps the sagest of her counsellors, who now taught his mistress
to thread her way, as he had hitherto threaded his own, through most
dangerous and difficult times, with the sagacity of a wizard. The
outset of Elizabeth’s reign, indeed, was perhaps the masterpiece of
his tactics; and years afterwards, when the crisis was passed and the
Reformation established, he appealed to that period, as well he might,
in proof of his successful devotion to the cause of truth.[460] Still
Elizabeth was working her way underground, and by measures which
whilst they did not provoke notice, would not fail to produce fruits.
Thus, though she would not exclude Roman Catholics from her privy
council, she would yoke them with such colleagues as were friendly to
the Reformation, and were at the same time of talents so extraordinary
as would readily obtain the mastery in debate. Though she would not
weed out of the commission of the peace Roman Catholic magistrates, she
would regulate her new appointments with a view to serving the cause
she had secretly at heart. She would not compel, or attempt to compel,
a Roman Catholic parliament by force to make the laws she desired,
but she would take care to influence the elections in such a manner
as to secure the return of members who would do so. Her first object
appears to have been to soothe the country: to maintain the authority
of the law, be it as yet what it might; to establish her own position
as monarch; and thus to possess herself of a basis on which she might
proceed to build, at her leisure, the permanent prosperity of her realm.

Her parliament assembled, and never did a parliament meet under
circumstances more imperative: to its wisdom it was left to order and
settle all things upon the best and surest foundations; and accordingly
it passed the two great acts by which the alliance between church and
state was established, those of Supremacy and Uniformity; neither of
them, indeed, now enacted for the first time, but both statutes of
Henry or Edward, with certain amendments, revived.

Against the Act of Supremacy some objections were urged in the
parliament, and some scruples out of it; both, no doubt, proceeding
from the same quarter. It was a scandal to place a woman at the
head of the church, whose voice was not to be heard in it; yet the
principle (it was argued) was acknowledged in a degree by the Catholics
themselves, who had no difficulty in recognising the authority of
an abbess, though of a nature in many respects much more strictly
ecclesiastical, than that with which it was proposed to invest the
queen.[461] Neither was there any disposition in her Majesty to
challenge an authority to minister in the church (as was maliciously
given out,) or, indeed, any other authority than such as had been
enjoyed by her father and brother of famous memory.”[462] By the Act
of Uniformity, the exclusive use of the Book of Common Prayer in the
public services was enjoined under pain of imprisonment, and eventually
of deprivation; whilst a respect for it was further exacted by
penalties against those who should teach or preach to the disparagement
of the same; and (what was a measure of more questionable expediency,
as well as right) against those who should refuse to resort to their
parish churches to hear it.[463] Meanwhile, it should be added, some
few alterations had been made in the liturgy, dictated by a wish not
to give needless offence to the Roman Catholics, but to win them,
if possible, still to remain in a church which ever professed to be
the restoration rather than the rival of their own. In the end, all
the parochial clergy, with the exception of eighty individuals, took
the oath of supremacy, and conformed. Not so the bishops: they all,
save one, were recusants, as were also many deans, heads of colleges,
and prebendaries, and were consequently deprived. It is unfair to
attribute an act apparently conscientious to an unworthy motive, but
it was suspected that a recusancy so general amongst one order of
ecclesiastics, and that the highest, was preconcerted, more especially
as many or all of them had subscribed to the supremacy of Henry and
Edward; and that it was not wholly independent of the notion that the
Queen would find it difficult, in the actual condition of the church
to fill up their places to her satisfaction, and would descend to a
compromise.[464] The difficulty, too, whatever it was, was augmented,
it might be thought, by the numerous vacancies which the sickness
recently prevailing in the country had created amongst the upper ranks
of the clergy. If such, however, were the speculations, they were
fallacious. That great company of preachers was overlooked, who had
been living in exile, and were now eager to return;--persons but ill
qualified, by their long habits of necessary frugality and retirement,
to succeed to the purple of their episcopal predecessors,[465]
and not having that in their looks which men would willingly call
master, yet scholars ripe and good, Christians, moreover, sobered
by adversity, and in many instances found to possess, under a mean
aspect, perhaps, a genius that was vast. Out of these were drafted
many recruits; Jewel, the Coryphæus of them all, a man, indeed, of
matchless learning, which he nevertheless wields, ponderous as it is,
like a plaything: of a most polished wit; a style, whether Latin or
English, the most pure and expressive, such as argues a precision in
the character of his ideas, and a lucid order in the arrangement of
them, quite his own. His “Apology” and his “Defence” of it, were the
crowning works of the Reformation, and may be regarded, on the whole,
as those in which its doctrines are put upon record by one the best
qualified of all men to assert them with authority, both from his
intimate knowledge of the subject, the personal intercourse he had
enjoyed with its chief promoters, and the favourable moment at which
he wrote. But whilst some of these exiles were thus the pillars of
their church, others were the reeds. Such were Cartwright, appointed
to the Margaret professorship in Cambridge, and Sampson, to the
deanery of Christ-church. What could come of these ministers, or of
others like to these, but a plentiful harvest of non-conformity in the
generation of students brought within the influence of their example
and teaching; destined themselves to impart it in their turn to the
several parishes throughout England in which their lots might happen
to be cast? Here, then, was a schism, violent enough to endanger even
a long-established church, much more one so recently settled as our
own. But besides the Sampsons and Cartwrights, extravagant schismatics,
there was another and a larger class behind, good men indeed, but,
perhaps, too gentle for the times, the class of lukewarm churchmen, who
still strengthened the hands and ministered to the purposes (however
unwittingly) of spirits more determined than themselves.[466] Such
was Pilkington, bishop of Durham,[467] and even Grindal, bishop of
London,[468] both Marian exiles, and neither of them very cordial
fellow-workers with Parker, himself not an exile. For here was the
origin of these religious distinctions: the former leaning to the
puritan;--Grindal himself being the Algrind of Spenser, whose praises
of him bespeak the party with which he was identified;[469]--the latter
leaning to the Roman Catholic. Nor did the division expire with this
generation; Abbot and Laud still presenting the same contrast in the
next, when the church was upon the eve of that dissolution which was
the issue of the whole. Still the puritan principle, violently as it
worked, subversive as it was of much that was innocent and much that
was holy, had this to redeem it, that it purged out of the kingdom,
effectually and for ever, the popery (we can use no other word to
express our meaning) which lingered in its veins, and which, without
the application of a strong antidote, might once more have penetrated
to its vitals. For the spirit of popery, properly so called, always
active, and now the more so from the ill-disguised claims of the Queen
of Scots to the throne of England, had been recently recruited, it
must be remembered, by the institution of the order of Jesuits, which,
springing up in the age of the Reformation, aimed at directing the
general movement, both in religion and politics, to the advantage of
the Bishop of Rome, whose devoted servants they professed themselves.
The rules, the activity, and the learning of this society rendered
them formidable to any Protestant state, and added not a little to
the perplexities of Elizabeth’s position, who, whilst she feared the
levelling and anti-monarchical principles of the Puritans, otherwise
her natural allies against these champions of the Pope, was in still
greater jeopardy from a hostile order, universal in its influence,
secret in its operations, sagacious as herself in its councils; and if
at length her government proved that it bore not the sword in vain, but
smote with somewhat of a ruthless hand, it was rather in self-defence
against political agitators that it so acted, than in violation of
the rights of conscience. For certainly the severity did not begin
till after her subjects had been absolved from their allegiance by a
Pope’s bull,[470] neither did it ever manifest itself against woman or
child; a distinction this, between the punishments of Elizabeth and the
persecutions of Mary, sufficient in itself to point out that it was
the disloyalty, and not the creed, of the parties that drew upon them
the vengeance of the Queen; and to confirm the assertion of Cecil in
his “execution of justice,” that no one was put to death by Elizabeth
for his religion only,[471] as well as a similar vindication of her
policy advanced with much detail in a letter of Walsingham’s--a policy
which, he contends, was ever regulated by two rules, “to deal tenderly
with consciences, but not to suffer causes of conscience to grow to be
matters of faction.”[472]

The two important statutes of which we have spoken were followed
up in the same year by injunctions of the Queen, after the manner
of those of her brother. They are expressed, indeed, so far as the
case admits, in the very same words as those of Edward twelve years
before. Wherever, therefore, a change is introduced, there must have
been a reason for it, and an index is thus obtained of the progress
of opinion, the more satisfactory because quite incidental.[473]
Thus, on a comparison of the two sets, it will be found, that the
Roman catholic religion is treated with less courtesy by Edward than
by Elizabeth. In the injunctions of the former we read “of kissing
and _licking_ of images:” in those of the latter the offensive
expression is expunged. So again, in the first, the power of the Pope
is said to be justly “rejected, _extirpated_, and taken away
_utterly_:” in the others, it is thought enough to declare that
it is “justly rejected and taken away.” These denounce the abuses of
the Sabbath--“a day on which God is more offended than pleased, more
dishonoured than honoured, because of idleness, pride, drunkenness,
quarrelling, brawling, which are most used on such days; the people,
nevertheless, persuading themselves sufficiently to honour God on
that day, if they hear mass and service; and then is suggested a
more excellent way of keeping the Sabbath holy: in those of Elizabeth
the wholesome suggestion is retained, but the sabbatical picture is
suppressed.” It may be questioned, however, whether this omission was
made altogether in deference to the feelings of the Roman Catholics:
perhaps the progress of puritanism had already begun to correct such
gross disorders; for it must be admitted, we apprehend, that the more
decent and devout observance of Sunday, for which England is still
remarkable, not only above catholic, but even above other reformed
countries, is to be greatly ascribed to this all-powerful principle;
its stern decrees still felt to impart to the character of that day a
sobriety, though not longer a gloom. For, pursuing the same comparison,
we shall find other symptoms of the puritan being now in the ascendant.
Thus, according to Edward’s commands, images, shrines, pictures, and
the like are to be destroyed, nor any memory of the same to be left in
walls and glass windows. Elizabeth, however, adds, that “the walls and
glass-windows shall be nevertheless preserved,” as though the crusade
against all ecclesiastical ornaments had already begun. Again, by
Edward’s injunctions, unlicensed preachers are not to be admitted into
a pulpit. Those of Elizabeth, however, go farther, not allowing even
licensed preachers to officiate out of their own parishes, unless they
have a special license for this, as though itinerancy had commenced.
Then, in the latter, we find certain supplementary clauses not in the
injunctions of Edward, all pointing to the same conclusion. One against
the growth of heresies, contrary to the faith of Christ and his Holy
Spirit; still a foretaste of the speculative imaginations of the next
century. Another against disturbing the congregation in the time of
sermon; a practice afterwards so common, and of which Bishop Bull’s
debate with the brawling Quaker is a characteristic instance.[474]
A third, for the better regulation of singing in churches; not,
indeed, absolutely forbidding the use of music, but reducing it to
much greater simplicity; a concession, as far as it went, to the
same party, who would willingly have ejected all organs, and allowed
no psalmody whatever, but such as was strictly congregational.[475]
Meanwhile the secret of this growing strength of the puritan cause
is discovered in other allusions, contained in the same injunctions,
to the penury of the church, and the ignorance of its ministers; the
natural effect of the late pillage and misapplication of its revenues:
for here we encounter, not without some feelings of humiliation, such
provisions as these (_ex pede Herculem_): that no priest shall
marry without permission given by the bishop and two justices of the
peace living next to the place where the woman hath made her most abode
before marriage, nor without the good will of her parents or next
kinsfolk; or, for lack of such, of “_her master or mistress where
she liveth_.” And again, that “such as are but _mean readers_
shall peruse over before once or twice the chapters and homilies, to
the intent they may read to the better understanding of the people,
and the more encouragement of godliness.” This is a glimpse of a sad
picture; but it is such as the sketch given in a former chapter[476]
of the condition of the clergy under King Edward must have prepared
us to expect. The Reformation was still too recent an event, and had
been effected by means too violent, for the great good that was in it
to have developed itself. The fountain had been thoroughly troubled,
and time was wanting for it to defecate, as well as an infusion,
perhaps, of some fresh elements that should expedite the process of
precipitation. These Cranmer would have supplied had he been allowed
to complete his own idea. But his untimely death, and the selfish
passions of men too strong for him, thwarting him whilst he lived,
scanted the Reformation of much that should have belonged to it, and
consigned it to posterity a noble but still an unfinished work--a
work in which there is every thing to admire, and yet something to
desiderate.

Thus it has been said that the Reformation left the church without
_discipline_; a defect which our commination-service confesses and
laments; but it was one from which the Roman catholic church itself
was not exempt, for the rivalry which existed between the secular and
regular clergy, and again between the several orders of the latter,
was, as we have seen, fatal to discipline. Still, whatever the defect
was, it was not the fault of the reformers that it was suffered to
remain. The canon laws were, indeed, no longer strictly applicable
to the church, constructed as it now was: but an attempt was made
to accommodate them, or to substitute for them such as were thought
better. A code, which he called Reformatio Legum Ecclesiasticarum,
was drawn up by Cranmer, consisting of fifty-one titles, with an
appendix, after the manner of the Digest of Justinian. It underwent
many revisions in private during the reigns of Henry and Edward, but
was not produced. It was revived, with a view to its legal enactment,
by the Puritans in the lower house of parliament under Elizabeth;
but the Queen thought it trenched upon her supremacy, and would not
hear of it. It was reprinted, and no more under Charles I., and was
suggested once again to public notice by Bishop Burnet.[477] All,
however, would not do; it fell to the ground; whether originally from
the mere accident of the deaths of Henry and Edward before it was fully
matured; whether from the difficulty of maintaining penal statutes in
general in a church founded upon the principles of the Reformation; or
whether, as some have thought, from the extreme severity of the code
itself. That the latter circumstance was the cause of its non-enactment
it is difficult to believe; for, severe as it may seem to us, and as
it undoubtedly is, the distinction which is made in it between the
essential and unessential doctrines of Christianity, and the exclusive
application of the capital laws against heresy to the former, was the
first instance of any such discrimination being exercised.[478] and
may be fairly considered as a step in the progress of the principles
of toleration; as the mitigation rather than the approval of penal
excesses; for so little was that age prepared to revolt at the
provisions laid down in it, that Bishop Jewel, who must have ranked
rather with the liberal than the dogmatical party of his own day; who
had lived in exile at Frankfort, a liberal school; himself, therefore,
a victim of persecution; and who wrote many years after Cranmer; seems
to approve the same theory of punishment, and perhaps the same scale of
it; for whilst he vindicates freedom of opinion up to a certain point,
still such as have a _wicked_ opinion either of God the Father, or
of Christ, or of the Holy Ghost, or of any other point, of Christian
religion, they being confuted by the Gospel of Christ, he would plainly
pronounce detestable and damned persons, and would defy them even unto
the devil; neither would he leave them so, but would also severely
and straitly hold them in by _lawful and politic punishments_,
if they fortune to break out any where and bewray themselves.[479]
These are very strong words. And what is more remarkable still, a
similar line was adopted, nearly a hundred years later, by one who
has been considered the great champion of religious liberty, and in
a work expressly dedicated to the extension of it, and though it is
more than probable that Jeremy Taylor, here, as elsewhere, would not
have had the courage to follow out his own argument to its practical
results, and would have shrunk from “putting to death or dismembering”
the professing Christian, even for “impiety or blasphemy,” or for
opinions (if only such), however “destructive of the foundation of
religion;”[480] yet the theory itself, re-asserted after so long an
interval, and by such an advocate, is enough to prove that Cranmer was
rather in advance of his generation than behind it; and that he is
still to be regarded as the reformer, and not as the bigot.

But there is reason to think that the capital penalties even of his
code would have been mitigated, had he ever actually presented it
to the legislature. Cranmer was becoming daily more tolerant, as he
gradually fell under the influence of a more charitable faith. He had
been shocked, it is said, by the solemn manner in which Edward made
him responsible before God for the life of Joan of Kent; he expressed
himself shortly afterwards of Gardiner in terms significant of a
repugnance to severities;[481] and he was one of those who advised
connivance at the use of the mass by the Princess Mary. With these
tokens of temper before us, it seems fair to infer, that however
greatly Cranmer coveted the establishment of discipline, he would
scarcely have bought it at the price of blood; and that his own
character, by nature one of the most gentle, was asserting itself more
and more even in matters calculated to put it most of all to the
proof. But if discipline, properly so called, be lacking, so much the
rather should those ecclesiastical regulations which are of imperfect
obligation perhaps (and there are many such) be diligently observed
by the clergy, both towards those set over them, and towards those
committed to their charge; the respect or neglect of which is just that
which constitutes the decency or disorder of a church; a distinction
not easy to describe in detail, yet sufficiently intelligible in
itself; nor is it unreasonable to expect that the laity on their part
should see the advantage of such rules, which cannot be onerous, and
cordially co-operate with the clergy to the maintenance of them.

Another particular in which the Reformation was left incomplete, was
in a provision for the sufficient education of the people. The demand,
indeed, for education had not hitherto been great; few boys but such
as were intended for ecclesiastics were made scholars; so that even
Latimer reckons the sons of great laymen or esquires, as he calls
them, interlopers in the universities.[482] The churchman, and no
other, was the clerk; and the convent was in general the academy; it
was so, at least, in a _hundred_ instances, if we understand an
expression used by the speaker of the lower house, in the fourth year
of Elizabeth, aright; who, in his address to the Queen laments the loss
of such a number of places of education.[483] Schools, therefore, in
the present sense of the word, there were few; not more than three,
we believe, in all London. And when Dean Colet founded that of St.
Paul’s on the eve of the Reformation, it was a thing regarded with
some jealousy.[484] Hence it probably was, that the numbers sent to
Oxford and Cambridge (the two great national schools, as they were
then considered) were so extraordinary--thousands where there are
now hundreds; and that the age of the students was so tender. For
on the rapid multiplication of foundation schools throughout the
country in the century after the Reformation, the character of the
universities, we shall find, became changed; the number of students
diminishing, in spite of an increasing population, and the age at
which they entered greatly advanced. Milton’s is said to be the last
instance of corporal punishment in either university--a tradition
which, whether true or false as to the individual, may serve to date
the period of the transition from the past to the present system of
academical education. But of the few schools that existed before the
Reformation, some were seized and sold by the rapacious courtiers,
particularly under the feeble reign of Edward; here was one channel of
education cut off:--the convents were destroyed; here was another:--the
universities were decayed; here was a third:--they were decayed,
because the yeomen who might have been able to send their children
to a school in the neighbourhood, if there had been one, were quite
unable, from a disastrous change in their circumstances, to send them,
as they often had done heretofore, to Oxford and Cambridge:[485] an
education so remote, frugal as the times then were, being comparatively
costly, and such as rendered even the ten groats which Jewel bestowed
upon Hooker, when he called upon the good bishop on his way to his
college on foot, not unwelcome. They were still further decayed from
the same cause as the schools; powerful individuals intercepted and
appropriated their revenues--accordingly very many students were
actually unable to stay “for lack of exhibition and help,”--others did
indeed stay, but in extreme penury. They rose in the morning between
four and five o’clock; at ten they dined, having “a penny piece of
beef amongst four, a few potage made of the same, with salt and
oatmeal, and nothing else:--at five in the evening they had a supper
not much better than the dinner; and, before they went to bed, which
was at nine or ten, being without fire, “they were fain to walk or
run up and down half an hour to get a heat on their feet.” Such was
the condition of what students there were in Cambridge in the days of
Edward the Fifth.[486] Now this declension in the means of national
instruction was the more calamitous because it happened at a moment
when the thirst for knowledge was becoming intense, and when it was
more than commonly desirable that it should be slaked from cisterns
of wholesome waters. Of this our reformers were aware; but again they
were baffled, both they and their king. The larger benefices were,
indeed, charged with the support of one scholar at the university
for every hundred pounds of their annual value: but this was a very
limited provision for the wants of the times.[487] The chantry lands
would have furnished a considerable, perhaps a sufficient, fund for
the purpose, and Edward did so apply them in part, and would gladly
have done so more extensively; but they were devoured by the nobles,
and the moment for royal endowments went by. Happy would it have been,
had it been otherwise. Such grammar schools as he would have planted
over England would have been found “seminaries of sound learning,” and
(what was the first consideration of the founder) “of _religious_
education.” They might have raised up a more literate clergy. They
might have checked, perhaps, the rising extravagances of the Puritans.
They might have sustained the church by the direction they would
have given to public opinion; and dispersed the storm which already
threatened, by conducting, quietly and not unfruitfully, to the earth,
the fierce elements with which the political and religious atmosphere
was already so heavily charged. For they would have been the natural
feeders of the church of England; the visitor, probably one of its
prelates; the teachers, its more learned ministers; the prayers, those
of its services; the catechism, its manual of doctrines--that which
Dean Nowell composed in Latin, and which was afterwards translated
into Greek by Dr. Whitaker, his nephew, for the express use of such
schools, having been approved in convocation, and been acknowledged to
speak the authorised language of the reformers. A few such schools King
Edward did establish, as we have said; but in numbers quite inadequate
to the demands of the nation, which must have been abandoned to gross
ignorance, and to the delusions of every theological empiric (which
was in a great degree the case after all), but for the many private
foundations, still however very insufficient, by which the reign of
Elizabeth, who incorporated them, was distinguished. For these, the
country was indebted to the generous efforts not of ecclesiastics only,
but also of opulent yeomen and tradesmen, the last of whom, having
made an ample fortune, generally in London, the first-fruits of the
commerce of England, often retired to spend it in the place which had
given them birth, and of which they piously endeavoured to relieve
the intellectual and religious wants by erecting a school, connecting
it with the universities by scholarships, and with the church by the
qualifications of its masters. In these institutions, whether of royal
or private foundation, most of our yeomen, shopkeepers, and small
householders who resided within reach of them, besides many of a higher
rank, were heretofore educated; a class of persons which both the
recollection of living men, and still more the records of our domestic
history, lead us to think not less sound in knowledge, nor less sage
and sober in sentiments, not less loyal subjects or less virtuous
citizens, than the more enlightened generation, as it has been called,
which has succeeded them, the sons of our commercial schools. Whilst
by means of those same institutions a way has been commonly opened to
youths of promise, though it may be of humble parentage, into the two
great seats of learning, of which they have often become the brightest
ornaments; and into the church, of which they have no less frequently
proved themselves the most conspicuous and valuable ministers. Perhaps
it may be added, that in either capacity, whether as nurseries of our
laymen or of our clergy, such schools, productive as they have been
of men duly qualified to serve God and their country, would have been
far more so, had the principles upon which they were first founded
been more rigorously observed in times past (for the error has been
discovered, and some pains are now taken to remove it); had religion in
general, its evidences and substance, entered still more largely into
their regular studies; and that particular form of it established in
this kingdom been made a theme of their more habitual instruction and
parental concern.

Another defect imputed to the Reformation is the inadequate support it
provided for the lower orders of the clergy. Four thousand livings,
and upwards, of less than one hundred and fifty pounds a year each,
many very far less, with no parsonage houses whatever, or with such
as the most Sabine economist would pronounce unfit for a clergyman to
occupy;--this is the forlorn condition, as to temporals, in which the
church has stood for a long season; a condition to which it could not
have been reduced, had even a portion of the vast revenues dispersed
at the Reformation been husbanded, and applied to the legitimate
purpose of bettering the situation of the inferior clergy. This,
Cranmer most earnestly desired; but his entreaties and regrets were
alike unavailing. The evil continued, and Jewel took up the subject
in his turn; and pressed the redress of it upon Elizabeth and her
nobles, in his sermons at Paul’s Cross (very curious pictures of the
times); but the spoil was then divided, and restitution was looked for
in vain.[488] Laud made another effort; one of whose projects it was
to move Charles for a grant to buy in impropriations, two of which he
hoped thus to redeem every year; but his chance of success best appears
from the very intention (of which the record was found in his diary)
being made matter of charge against him at his trial. Had the exertions
of these prelates been effective, the very great, but, as things at
present stand, the necessary evil of pluralities and non-residence
would have been prevented, or left without cause or excuse. As it is,
to proscribe the pluralist altogether, would in many cases, be to visit
with utter poverty the meritorious labourer in the vineyard, him and
his little ones; and to insist, in all cases, upon residence, would be,
in some, to say that the village handi-craftsman more lettered than
his fellows, should be again the officiating minister, as he once was
in Edward’s days, and as he was forbidden to be, from the mischief it
occasioned, under Elizabeth. The evil of which we speak is grievous;
but it has been and is decreasing. By help of Queen Anne’s bounty, of
which the origin and history has been briefly told already, a sum of
money advanced for the augmentation of a small living is met with an
equal sum, when the whole is invested in land, so soon as land can be
found; and thus is the income of the poor incumbent improved. And,
by a modern and excellent act of the legislature, empowering him to
mortgage his benefice to the amount of two years’ income, and to bind
his successors as well as himself for the gradual liquidation of the
debt, he is enabled to build a new house, or make an old one habitable;
and thus is his residence encouraged. The beneficial operation of these
two instruments of gradual church reform is more and more manifest
every day. By virtue of them the modest but not mean parsonage is
beginning to appear in many rude and secluded hamlets where before
there had been none: and the advantages of a pastor on the spot,
frugal, indeed, of necessity, but carrying with him the respect which
superior intelligence commands, and the sympathies of those amongst
whom he walks not unseen; whose adviser he is in difficulties, and
peace-maker in disputes; whose houses he visits in sickness and sorrow,
and whose children he teaches the way in which they should go;--these
charities, the attendants upon a resident ministry, are diffusing
themselves over districts where they were once unfelt, and attaching
the inhabitants to our church by the strongest of all ties, “the
cords of a man.” But, alas! the residence must depend upon the house,
and the house upon the income of the benefice: to the improvement of
the latter, therefore, should our efforts be first directed, as the
moving-spring of all; and if, by any equitable means, the fund at the
disposal of the commissioners of Queen Anne’s bounty could be enriched,
great would be the gain. But if lay patrons of small livings, where
they happen to be also impropriators, could be induced to co-operate
with the clergy for this same great object, which is national; if the
generous spirit which animated their fathers, during half a century,
after the Restoration,[489] when they had learned in the day of
suffering the value of their church, and in the moment of joy at its
re-establishment welcomed it with gifts,--if that spirit would stir
in them also; if they would re-annex, as was then done so commonly,
to these their own livings (we ask no more), some portion, however
small, of the tithes which they enjoy, and which were all wrung from
the church; a sacrifice which, from its amount, would scarcely be felt
by many patrons, and which would not, in fact, be an alienation of
so much property, but rather a regulation of the course in which it
should run; a reduction, perhaps, of fifty or a hundred pounds a year
from an elder brother’s rent-roll, to the augmentation to the like
amount of a younger brother’s benefice;--if the patron and impropriator
could be persuaded thus to act, the necessity for non-residence and
pluralities would be still more rapidly diminished, and the national
church would soon be placed in a more impregnable position than she has
ever assumed in this particular, either since the Reformation or before
it. And without urging higher motives, without urging even the feudal
nature of all property in one sense, held, under God, the Lord of all,
on condition of suit and service to be done, and not as an absolute
possession to be dealt with altogether according to the pleasure of the
occupant--without pressing this consideration (which is nevertheless
a sound one), we shall be borne out in saying, that the possessor of
property best secures the permanent enjoyment of it by securing a
righteous population to his country; that the respect or contempt of
the laws of the land in our parishes, and particularly in our rural
parishes, is not a little dependent on the presence or absence of the
village pastor; that to insure the local benefit of his residence,
therefore, may be worth the while of any man who has a stake to lose;
and that, though it may entail upon him the relinquishment of a trifle
which he may strictly call his own; and with which he may certainly do
what he will; still, it may be for his consideration whether there is
not that scattereth and yet increaseth, and whether there is not that
withholdeth more than is meet, and it tendeth unto poverty.

Such is our sketch of this great religious revolution: for which, that
it came when it did, we have surely, in these days, reason to give
God hearty thanks. For to the Reformation we owe it, that a knowledge
of religion has kept pace in the country with other knowledge; and
that, in the general advance of science, and the general appetite for
enquiry, this paramount principle of all has been placed in a position
to require nothing but a fair field and no favour, in order to assert
its just pretensions. We are here embarrassed by no dogmas of corrupt
and unenlightened times, still riveted upon our reluctant acceptance
by an idea of papal or synodical infallibility; but stand with the
Bible in our hands, prepared to abide by the doctrines we can discover
in it, because furnished with evidences for its truth (thanks to the
Reformation for this also!) which appeal to the understanding, and to
the understanding only; so that no man competently acquainted with
them need shrink from the encounter of the infidel; or feel, for a
moment, that his faith is put to shame by his philosophy. Infidelity
there may be in the country, for there will ever be men who will not
trouble themselves to examine the grounds of their religion, and men
who will not dare to do it; but how far more intense would it have
been, and more dangerous, had the spirit of the times been, in other
respects, what it is, and the Reformation yet to come, religion yet to
be exonerated of weights which sunk it heretofore in this country,
and still sink it in countries around us; enquiry to be resisted in
an age of curiosity; opinions to be bolstered up (for they may not be
retracted) in an age of incredulity; and pageants to be addressed to
the senses, instead of arguments to the reason, in an age which, at
least, calls itself profound. As it is, we have nothing to conceal;
nothing to evade; nothing to impose; the reasonableness, as well as
righteousness, of our reformed faith recommends it; and whatever may be
the shocks it may have to sustain from scoffs, and doubts, and clamour,
and licentiousness, and seditious tongues, and an abused press, it will
itself, we doubt not, prevail against them all, and save, too (as we
trust), the nation which has cherished it, from the terrible evils,
both moral, social, and political, that come of a _heart_ of
unbelief.


                               THE END.




FOOTNOTES:

[1] _Advancement of Learning_, Basil Montagu’s edition of Bacon’s
works, Vol. ii. p. 102, Pickering. 1825.

[2] _The Study of Church History Recommended_, being the Terminal
Divinity Lecture, delivered in Bishop Cosin’s Library, April 15,
1834, before the Rt. Rev. the Dean, the Chapter, and the University
of Durham, by Hugh James Rose, B. D., Chaplain to his Grace, the
Archbishop of Canterbury.

[3] The Rev. Professor Keble, advertisement to _the Christian
Year_.

[4] _Of the Church and the Scriptures_, Basil Montagu’s edition,
i. 220.

[5] _The New Testament arranged in Chronological and Historical
order_, ii. 134.

[6] _Concio ad Clerum_, Pratt’s edition.

[7] Mede’s Works, ii. 1061.

[8] Epistola, 709.

[9] “On foot they went, and took Salisbury in their way, purposely to
see the good Bishop, who made Mr. Hooker sit at his own table--which
Mr. Hooker boasted of with much joy and gratitude, when he saw his
mother and friends; and at the Bishop’s parting with him, the Bishop
gave him good counsel, and his benediction, but forgot to give him
money; which when the Bishop had considered, he sent a servant in
all haste to call Richard back to him, and at Richard’s return, the
Bishop said to him, Richard, I sent for you back to lend you a horse
which hath carried me many a mile, and, I thank God, with much ease;
and presently delivered into his hand a walking staff, with which he
professed he had travelled through many parts of Germany; and he said,
Richard, I do not give but lend you my horse; be sure you be honest,
and bring my horse back to me at your return this way to Oxford. And I
do now give you ten groats to bear your charges to Exeter; and here is
ten groats more, which I charge you to deliver to your mother, and tell
her I send her a bishop’s benediction with it and beg the continuance
of her prayers for me. And if you bring my horse back to me I will give
you ten groats more to carry you on foot to the college; and so, God
bless you, good Richard.”--_Izaak Walton’s Life of Richard Hooker._

[10] “New-born;” not as _the Church_, but as the Catholic Church
_reformed_.

[11] The Study of Church History recommended.

[12] Acts, xi. 19.

[13] Acts, xi. 28.

[14] Acts, xviii. 2.

[15] Bede’s Hist. Eccles. 169.

[16] Bede, 233.

[17] Bede, 255. 459. 480.

[18] Bede, 437.

[19] Bede, 34. 158. 169.

[20] Girald, Cambr. apud Hen. Wharton, v. ii. p. 533. Anglia Sacra.

[21] Bede 82. _et seq._

[22] Bede, 116.

[23] Bede died A. D. 735.

[24] Bede, 166.

[25] Angl. Sacra, v. ii. p. 491.

[26] Bede, 339.

[27] Bede, 250.

[28] Bede, 254.

[29] Bede, 322.

[30] Bede, 247.

[31] Bede, 258.

[32] Bede, 271.

[33] Bede, 453.

[34] Bede, 271.

[35] Bede, 322.

[36] Bede, 395, 438.

[37] The very name, purgatory, is heathen. The annual feast of
purification in February was called “Sacrum Purgatorium.” Vide
Augustin. de Civ. Dei, l. vii. c. 7.; also Jewel’s Def. of the Apology,
part ii. c. 16. § 1.

[38] Bede, 122.

[39] Bede, 431.

[40] Bede, 330.

[41] Bede, 94.

[42] Bede, 334. ed. Wheloc.

[43] Præfat. in Leges Aluredi Regis, p. 16. ed. Wheloc.

[44] Bede, 411.

[45] Bede, ed. Wheloc, p. 422. et seq.

[46] Turner’s Ang. Sax. iii. 362.

[47] Measure for Measure, act iii. sc. 1.

[48] Bede, 430.

[49] Bede, 336, 344, 349, 417.

[50] Bede, 164, 315, 431.

[51] This argument is actually urged in favour of the dignity of the
priesthood in the Catechismus ad Parochos, p. 270.

[52] Bede, 78.

[53] Bede, 124. This phrase, however, might only indicate the side
Eadbald would have supported in the Nestorian controversy.

[54] Bede, 446.

[55] Bede, 281.

[56] Bede, 185, 186.

[57] Bede, 351.

[58] Bede, 389.

[59] Bede, 366.

[60] Bede, 374.

[61] Bede, 213.

[62] Bede, p. 441. et seq. Comp. Dante Purgator. ii.

[63] See pp. 206. 329.

[64] Canonicus Lichfeld. de Success. Archiep. Cant. ap. Wharton, Anglia
Sacra, i. 95.

[65] Osbern. ap. Wharton, Angl. Sacr. ii. 89.

[66] Burnet’s Hist. Reform. v. i. 130. v. iii. introd. xvi. fol.

[67] In “The Supplication of Beggars,” they are stated at 52,000.
(See Fox’s Acts and Mon, ii. 280. edit. 1631–2, with the note.) The
number may be exaggerated; but it will seem less extraordinary when
it is remembered that one of the qualifications of a thegn or thane,
a lower class of nobles, having some analogy to the barons of Norman
times, was, that he should have five hides of his own land and a
_church_. (See Turner’s Angl. Sax. ii. 265.)

[68] Angl. Sacr. ii. 91.

[69] Hen. Wharton, Angl. Sacr. i. 126.

[70] Willelm. Malmesb. ap. Wharton, Angl. Sacr. ii. 260.

[71] See Warton’s Hist. of English Poetry, i. 266. 4to.

[72] Angl. Sacr. i. 435.

[73] Angl. Sacr. i. 255.

[74] Angl. Sacr. i. 248.

[75] Angl. Sacr. ii. præf. p. 4.

[76] Angl. Sacr. ii. 480.

[77] Angl. Sacr. ii. 611.

[78] Warton’s Hist. of Poetry, i. 290. 4to.

[79] Erasmi Colloq. Franciscani.

[80] See an Essay on the Government of the Church of England, by George
Reynolds, Archdeacon of Lincoln, p. 101. _et seq._

[81] Warton’s Hist. of English Poetry, i. 292. 4to.

[82] Ibid. i. 290.

[83] Warton’s Hist. of English Poetry, i. 296.

[84] Erasm. Colloq. Franciscani. Chaucer.

[85] Milton, i. 80. Prose Works, Burnett’s ed. Bishop Jewel argues
the question more practically than Milton; and, allowing that there
are many who would teach Christ for Christ’s sake, looks onward to
posterity, and asks of fathers, whether their own zeal will cause
them to “keep their children at school until four and twenty years
old, at their own charges, that in the end they may live in glorious
poverty? that they may live poorly and naked, like the prophets and
the apostles?” and he foretells that the event would be a lapse into
ignorance--Serm. on Ps. lxix. 9.

[86] Erasm. Colloq. Franciscani.

[87] Leges Inæ, 1. Aluredi, 23, 24. Edmundi, 57. Edgari, 62. Bede’s
Eccl. Hist. 178. 291. See also Sharon Turner’s Anglo-Saxons, iii. 248.
_et seq._

[88] Essay upon the Government of the Church of England, by George
Reynolds, 27.

[89] Reynolds, 30.

[90] Bede’s Eccl. Hist. 447.

[91] Reynolds, 31.

[92] Bede, 447.

[93] Angl. Sacr. i. 461.

[94] Angl. Sacr. i. 6. _et seq._

[95] Angl. Sacr. i. 6.

[96] Angl. Sacr. i. 272.

[97] Angl. Sacr. i. 284.

[98] Angl. Sacr. i. 274.

[99] Bede’s Eccl. Hist. 352. 400.

[100] Angl. Sacr. i. 6. 71.

[101] Angl. Sacr. i. 44. 48.

[102] Angl. Sacr. i. 42.

[103] Angl. Sacr. i. 43.

[104] Reynolds, 41. 48, 49.

[105] Reynolds, 36.

[106] Reynolds, 38.

[107] Reynolds, 68.

[108] 27 Hen. 8. c. 28. Stat. of the Realm, iii. 576.

[109] Kennet on Impropriations, 25.

[110] Ibid. 405.

[111] Kennet on Impropriations, 97.

[112] Ryves’s Poore Vicar’s Plea, 15.

[113] Ibid. 21.

[114] Ibid. 7.

[115] Kennet, 35.

[116] Ryves’s Poore Vicar’s Plea, 145.

[117] Monast. Anglic. i. 658.

[118] Kennet, 59.

[119] Strype’s Annals, 177. Latimer’s Sermons, ii. 243.

[120] Strype’s Annals, 181.

[121] Wordsworth’s Eccles. Biog. i. 265, note.

[122] Jewel’s Sermon on Haggai. i. 2.

[123] See Dean Colet’s Serm. in Burnet’s Reform. iii. 28. fol. The
original Latin sermon is given in the appendix to Knight’s Life of
Colet. The passage alluded to is in p. 281.

[124] Strype’s Cranmer, 456.

[125] Ibid. 217, 218.

[126] Colet’s Sermon, printed in 1511, speaks of law,--quæ prohibent
ne clericus sit publicus lusor; and of laws, quæ prohibent clericis
frequentare tabernas, 281.

[127] Latimer’s Sermons, i. 182.

[128] Ibid. 87.

[129] Burnet’s Hist. of Reformation, i. 316. 1st ed. fol.

[130] Strype’s Annals, 87.

[131] Strype’s Cranmer, 169. Fox’s Acts and Mon. i. 538. Ed. 1631–32.
Wordsworth’s Eccl. Biog. i. 287.

[132] Wordsworth’s Eccl. Biog. i. 306. Knight’s Life of Dean Colet, 47.
53. 56. Erasmus supported by his authority the new system of theology,
and defended his friend Colet at Cambridge.

[133] Eccl. Biog. i. 286, note.

[134] Latimer’s Sermons, i. 177.

[135] Shakspeare, Second Part of Henry IV. act. i. scene 2.

“_Fal._ Where’s Bardolph?”

_Page._ He’s gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a
_horse_.

“_Fal._ I bought him in _Paul’s_, and he’ll buy me a horse in
Smithfield.”

See also Strype’s Annals, 227.

[136] Ibid. 227, and Queen Elizabeth’s “Proclamation made for the
reverend usage of all churches and churchyards,” given in Strype’s Life
of Grindal, 56.

[137] See Canon’s, xviii. xix.

[138] Strype’s Cranmer, 56, and Latimer.

[139] Utopia, ed. 24mo. 73.

[140] Latimer’s Serm. i. 176.

[141] Wordsworth’s Eccl. Biog. i. 271.

[142] Latimer, ii. 65.

[143] Latimer, ii. 189.

[144] Eccl. Biog. i. 166.

[145] Eccl. Biog. i. 166.

[146] Latimer’s Serm. ii. 24. 199.

[147] Erasmus, Peregrinatio Religionis Ergo.

[148] Latimer, Serm. ii. 45.

[149] See the very learned charge of Dr. Waterland upon “The Wisdom of
the Ancients borrowed from Divine Revelation,” viii. 1. _et seq._
Oxf.

[150] See Alix’s Churches of Piedmont, c. 24.

[151] See Gilly’s Researches among the Vaudois, 76., and his Second
Visit, 219. It appears that the several liturgies of Geneva, Neufchatel
and Lausanne are used at present; but that of Geneva by the majority
of the pastors. On comparing the brief sketch of this service (given
by Mr. Gilly as the one of La Torre) with the Geneva “Forme of Common
Praires, made by Master John Calvyne,” we may conjecture that the
latter is in a great measure retained.

[152] See Dante’s Purgatorio, c. xvi. xxxii. Petrarc. Son. 196.

[153] De Christianarum Ecclesiar. Successione et Statu. c. vi. § 19. 33.

[154] Eccl. Biog. i. 99.

[155] See Mr. Gilly’s Narrative, 78.

[156] Ellis’s Letters, i. 110. 2d Series.

[157] Ecc. Biog. i. 234.

[158] Latin was the common language of schools also before and at the
Reformation. In the “Monita Pædagogica ad suos Discipulos” of Lily, the
grammarian, and first master of Paul’s, is the following admonition:--

    “Et quoties loqueris, memor esto loquare _Latine_,
    Et veluti scopulos barbara verba fuge.”


[159] Ecc. Biog. i. 30. note.

[160] Inferno, c. ix.

[161] Ecc. Biog. i. 97, 98.

[162] Mark, xi. 32.

[163] See Milner’s History of the Church, iv. 109.

[164] See Milner’s History of the Church, iv. 130–136.

[165] See Wickliffe’s Life as given in Fox, extracted in Wordsworth’s
Ecc. Biog. i. 52. 121.

[166] 1 Sam. ii. 17. 24.

[167] Matt. xxiii. 2, 3.

[168] Ecc. Biog. i. 53.

[169] Ecc. Biog. i. 22.

[170] Ecc. Biog. i. 125. 138.

[171] Ecc. Biog. i. 120, 121. 125.

[172] Ecc. Biog. i. 162.

[173] Ecc. Biog. i. 182.

[174] See the opinions of this reformer, collected from his works, in
the Rev. H. Baber’s life of him, p. 32.

[175] Ecc. Biog. i. 170.

[176] Ecc. Biog. i. 176.

[177] In one particular, this peculiarity of the Lollard must have
administered a very wholesome rebuke to a sin of the times. He would
not swear by any of the members of Christ’s body, which was the
heedless fashion of the day, but would content himself with such an
affirmation, as “I am syker it is _soth_.” (See the Rev. H.
Baber’s Memoirs of Wickliffe, prefixed to his Translation of the New
Testament, p. 35.) May not the phrase a “_yea-forsooth_ knave,”
used by Falstaff (2 Hen. IV, ii. sc. 2,) have been a popular term
of obloquy, originally applied to the Lollards by the dissolute and
profane? See also Chaucer, “The Shipmanne’s Prologue.”

[178] Neal’s Hist. of Puritans, i. 6.

[179] Fox, i. 740.

[180] Isaiah, lv. 10, 11.

[181] Ecc. Biog. i. 290; where Fox and others attest these things.

[182] Nevertheless Luther is careful to maintain good works as
the fruits of faith, though not as the _meritorious_ cause
of salvation. “Having so taught of faith in Christ,” says he, “we
now teach touching good works also. Seeing that by faith thou hast
apprehended Christ, by whom thou art justified, go now, love God and
thy neighbours; pray to God, give him thanks; preach him, praise him,
confess him; be good to thy neighbour, help him, do thy duty by him.
These are truly good works, flowing as they do from that faith and joy
conceived in the heart by reason of our forgiveness of sins through
Christ.”--Comment. on the Galatians, ii. 16. And again, “After that
Christ has been apprehended by faith, and that I am become dead to
the law, justified from sin, freed from death, the devil, and hell,
through Christ, I do good works, I love God, I give him thanks, I
exercise charity towards my neighbour. But this charity, and the works
consequent upon it, neither inform my faith, nor adorn it; but my
faith informs and adorns my charity. This is my theology; these my
paradoxes.”--ii. 18.

[183] Latimer, Serm. i. 188.

[184] Milner’s Church History, iv. 404.

[185] Id. iv. 406. 443.

[186] Id. iv. 474.

[187] Id. iv. 497.

[188] Id. iv. 475.

[189] Strype, Cranmer, p. 287. fol.

[190] Sleidan, De Stat. Relig. pp. 329, 468, 469.

[191] Milner, v. 340.

[192] Bull, Opera, i. 67. fol.

[193] Burnet, Hist. of Reform. ii. 37. fol. Strype’s Cranmer, p. 148.
and Appendix 77. 1st. ed.

[194] Witness the following passage in a letter of Erasmus to Ammonius,
then at London:--“Istis hæreticis vel hoc nomine sum iniquior, quod
instante brumâ nobis auxerint lignorum pretium.”

[195] See his Convivium Religiosum.

[196] See the quotations from Luther’s Epistles, given in Milner’s
Church Hist. v. 324.

[197] Ibid. v. 337. This however is a subject of regret even with
Luther himself:--“Nunc cum tam magno incremento verbi non infeliciter
sit repurgata doctrina pietatis, plerique perditè anhelant ad Sectas.
Plerique vero non solum sacras literas sed etiam _omnes alias
literas_ fastidiunt et contemnunt.--Digni certè qui ἁνοήτοις Galatis
conferantur.”--Comment. in Epist. ad Galat. i. 6.

[198] Utopia, ed. 12mo. p. 117.

[199] Id. 224.

[200] Utopia, ed. 12mo. p. 248.

[201] Id. 237.

[202] Id. 234. 237.

[203] Id. 233.

[204] Id. 243. 253.

[205] Id. 262.

[206] See Life of Sir T. More, Eccl. Biog. ii. 109. 112.

[207] Fox’s Acts and Monuments, ii. 283.

[208] Fox, ii. 275–297. Burnet’s Hist. Reform. i. 163, 164.

[209] Fox, Acts and Mon. ii. 306.

[210] Percy, Reliques of Ancient Poetry, ii. 285, and Warton’s Hist. of
English Poetry, iii. 201.

[211] Wordsworth’s Eccl. Biog. i. 286.

[212] Fox, ii. 363.

[213] Ibid. li. 296.

[214] Fox, ii. 286.

[215] Wordsworth’s Eccl. Biog. i. 292.

[216] Fox, pp. 759. 1240.

[217] Serm. xi. on the Gunpowder Treason.

[218] Levit. xx. 21.

[219] Ibid. xviii. 15.

[220] Ibid. 24.

[221] Matt. xiv. 4.

[222] 1 Cor. vi. 1.

[223] Ibid. xviii. 8.

[224] Deut. xxv. 5.

[225] l Kings, ii. 17.

[226] Joseph. Antiq. lib. xviii. § 6, p. 807.

[227] Contemplations, lib. xii.

[228] The Querist, § 198. A work containing perhaps as much genuine
humour, as many sagacious guesses at the real causes of various social
and political evils affecting commonwealths, Ireland in particular (for
it is written for the benefit of that country), and as many shrewd and
practical hints for the removal of them, as any in our language.

[229] Burnet, Hist. Reform. lib. i. 125. fol.

[230] Dr. Lingard asserts that there were few instances of the see
of Canterbury being filled so soon after a vacancy. Yet Archbishop
Bredwardin died August 26, 1349, and Islip was appointed his successor
by a papal bull, dated October 7, 1349, and was consecrated December
20th. Archbishop Arundel died February 19 or 20, 1413; Chichelè
succeeded March 4, and received his pall in July. Chichelè died
April 12, 1443; Stafford succeeded him by a bull dated May 15, and
was consecrated in August. Stafford died in June or July 1452; Kemp
succeeded by bull dated July 21, and on September 22, received his
cross. Kemp died March 22, 1543, Bourchier was elected April 22, and
received the bull of confirmation August 22. Langton died January 27,
1500; Dean was elected in April, and confirmed May 26.

See Mr. Todd’s Introduction to Cranmer’s Defence of the Sacrament, p.
xxxvii.

[231] Mr. Ellis remarks, (Original Letters, vol. ii. p. 47,) that upon
Wolsey’s fall, Henry pressed the chancellorship upon Cranmer, more
than once, before he offered it to Sir Thomas More. Had it been so,
the refusal would but have been of a piece with the rest of Cranmer’s
private history; and, accordingly, we had once adduced this fact as a
further argument of his unambitious spirit--but it has been pointed out
to us by a high authority in ecclesiastical history, that Mr. Ellis has
here mistaken Warham for Cranmer. Both the words of Erasmus’s letter
(which is the reference, Epist. lib. xxvi. 55,) and its date prove this
to be the case. It is there said, that the chancellorship was offered
more than once to the _Archbishop of Canterbury_, and that he
excused himself on the plea of _age_. Now, the date of the letter
being January 1531, Cranmer was not then Archbishop, but Warham who
died in August 1532; moreover, Cranmer was at that time only in his
42d year, and therefore could not possibly consider himself too old
for the office. We notice a solitary error, for the sake of having an
opportunity of expressing our thanks to Mr. Ellis, for the invaluable
materials for English history which his researches have brought to
light and the very instructive notes with which they are accompanied.

[232] Strype’s Cranmer, 456.

[233] The _publicity_ of this proceeding is clearly proved in Mr.
Todd’s Life of Cranmer, vol. i. p. 65. It is so far of importance,
as it shows that the three Bishops--Lincoln, Exeter, and St. Asaph,
(the last of them, Dr. Standish, a most zealous catholic,)--who were
fixed upon to consecrate Cranmer, had the opportunity of refusing him
consecration had they thought proper.

[234] Id. p. 17.

[235] Strype, Cran. p. 17.

[236] See Burnet, Hist. of Ref. vol. i. p. 123. fol. where the oaths
are given at full.

[237] Cranmer, when examined before the commissioners at Oxford,
touching the supremacy, urges with great force this same argument
against the Queen herself, whose oaths to the state and to the pope
being so repugnant.--“She must needs be forsworn to the one.”--Fox,
vol. iii. p. 660.

[238] See Jewel’s Defence of the Apology, p. 634, fol.

[239] 2 Cor. xi. 5.

[240] xlix. 23.

[241] 2 Kings, xxii.

[242] See Jewel’s Defence of the Apology, p. 571.

[243] See The Icon Basilike, chap. xvii., quoted by Warburton in his
“Alliance between Church and State.”

[244] See Sozomen, Hist. Eccles. lib. i. c. xvii. Euseb. de Vit.
Constantin. iii. c. vii. Theodoret, Hist. Eccles. i. c. vii.

[245] In the time of Henry III., sixty-four abbots and thirty-six
priors were called to parliament; but Edward III. reduced them to
twenty-five abbots and two priors: two abbots were added afterwards;
so that there were in all twenty-nine who enjoyed this honor till the
dissolution.

[246] Fox’s Acts and Mon. ii. 282.

[247] Knight’s Life of Dean Colet, p. 61.

[248] See Ellis’s Original Letters, vol. ii. pp. 71. 77. vol. ii. p.
130, Second Series.

[249] See an Account of the Ancient and Present State of Shrewsbury
12mo. p. 107.

[250] Milton.

[251] See Sir H. Spelman’s History and Fate of Sacrilege, p. 229.

[252] Kennett on Impropriations, p. 165.

[253] Strype, Cranmer, p. 412.

[254] Kennett on Impropriations, p. 131.

[255] Dedicat. of Latimer’s Sermons, vol. ii. p. ix.

[256] Kennett, pp. 158. 184.

[257] History and Fate of Sacrilege, p. 243.

[258] Walton’s Life of Hooker. Eccl. Biog. vol. iv. p. 236.

[259] Fuller’s Holy and Prof. State, p. 239.

[260] Kennett’s Impropr. p. 438.

[261] Id. 184. Prov. xx. 25.

[262] Spelman, p. 297.

[263] Neal, History of the Puritans, vol. iv. p. 55.

[264] Kennett, p. 126.

[265] Strype makes the number 20; Collier, 40. Collier, ii. 19.

[266] Latimer’s Sermons, v. i. p. 87.

[267] See some curious traits of Cromwell’s real character collected
from his own memoranda, and other authentic sources, in Ellis’s
Original Letters, vol. ii. p. 116, second series, and again, p. 162:
a list of the grants of lands made to him by Henry, is given p. 171.
See also Hallam’s Constitutional History, 8vo. i. 96.; and Sir James
Mackintosh’s History of England, ii. 228.

[268] Burnet, ii. 45, 46.

[269] Id. i. 189, 190.

[270] Id. i. 227.

[271] Levit. xxv. 23.

[272] See the characteristic declaration prefixed to the third volume
of the Jesuits’ edition of Newton’s Principia.

[273] See an excellent pamphlet, entitled “The Revenues of the Church
not a Burden to the Public.” 1830.

[274] Nehemiah, iv. 18.

[275] Some Account of Shrewsbury, p. 128.

[276] See the Petition of the Inhabitants of Holm Cultram, in
Cumberland, to Cromwell, praying for the preservation of the abbey
church there, A. D. 1538. Ellis’s Original Letters, ii. 89.

[277] Spelman, Hist. and Fate of Sacrilege, p. 202. The extract is from
a letter of John Bale to Leland.

[278] Homily on Keeping clean of Churches.

[279] Strype’s Cranmer, 177.

[280] Latimer’s Sermons, i. 60, 61. Id. i. 176.

[281] Latimer’s Sermons, i. 167.

[282] Id. i. 176, 220.

[283] Strype’s Cranmer, 175.

[284] Fox, 1048. Percy’s Reliques of English Poetry, ii. 291.
Shakspeare’s Winter Tale, act iv. sc. 2.

[285] Strype’s Append. 88.

[286] Strype’s Cranmer, 178. 291.

[287] Id. 178.

[288] Latimer’s Sermons, i. 135. 249; ii. 162. 163.

[289] Strype’s Cranmer, 208.

[290] Id. 179.

[291] Id. 291.

[292] Strype’s Life of Parker, p. 17. fol. ed.

[293] Latimer’s Sermons, i. 246.

[294] Latimer’s Sermons, i. 266.

[295] Id. i. 183. See also the lxxvth Canon.

[296] Id. ii. 58.

[297] Strype’s Cranmer, p. 216.

[298] Latimer, i. 93.

[299] See Bishop Jewel’s Sermon on Haggai, i. 2, near the end.

[300] Eccles. Biography, iv. 508. Country Parson, p. 95. 12mo. ch.
xxviii.

[301] Latimer’s Sermons, i. 105.

[302] Burnet, Pref. ii. 14. Strype’s Cranmer, p. 36.

[303] Fox’s Acts and Mon. ii. 380.

[304] Fox, ii. 647.

[305] Clarendon’s Hist. of the Rebellion, i. 102.

[306] Fox, ii. 508.

[307] Strype’s Cranmer, pp. 114. 118.

[308] Eccles. Biog. iii. 478.

[309] Fox, ii. 530, et seq.

[310] Fox. See the story of Garret, ii. 517, and of Porter, ii. 536.

[311] Fox, ii. 525.

[312] See Latimer’s Sermons, i. 187. 227. 133. 181: also Fox, ii. 525,
the sermon of one Seton, on Justification by Faith only.

[313] Hist. of Cambridge, p. 103.

[314] Barrow’s Works, fol. ed. i. 94. 260. 267. 305. 456.

[315] Latimer’s Sermons, i. 183.

[316] Fox, ii. 684; where Bonner defends himself for having overlooked
some of the king’s injunctions in his sermon, by reason of his book of
notes having “in his sermon-time fallen away from him.”

[317] See Eccles. Biog. i. 303.

[318] See Archbishop Laurence’s Bampton Lectures, Notes, pp. 196–199.

[319] 1 Macc. i. 56. 58. Fox, i. 682. 685. 772. ii. 416. Collier, ii.
188.

[320] See Strype’s Cranmer, p. 59, and Fox’s Acts and Mon. ii. 364.

[321] Strype, p. 58.

[322] Strype’s Cranmer, p. 64; and Appendix, 42.

[323] Formularies of Faith in the reign of Henry VIII. Published at the
Clarendon Press, 1825. P. 25. 34. 386.

[324] Archbishop Laurence’s Bampton Lectures, p. 61–64.

[325] Formularies, &c. p. 116.

[326] Id. p. 161.

[327] Cranmer’s correspondence with Cromwell, on the subject of the
Lutheran envoys, who were preparing to depart, evidently from a feeling
that the purposes for which they were invited into England were all
thwarted by the party which had now the ascendency at court, shows the
struggle which was going on at this crisis, and how it was likely to
end. See Burnet, iii. Rec. 48; and Todd’s Cranmer, i. 250.

[328] Archbishop Laurence, p. 200. Burnet (Hist. Reform. i. 286,
and Supplement, 159,) asserts that it was never introduced into
convocation; but here, as in so many other places, he is mistaken.

[329] The name was indeed given it by Gardiner; who thus, under the
mask of a compliment, pledged the king to a work much less favourable
to the Reformation than the Bishops’ Book. See Strype’s Cranmer,
Appendix, No. xxxv.

[330] Strype’s Cranmer, p. 100.

[331] See Preface to the “Doctrine and Erudition,” &c. p. 218, 219.

[332] Formularies, &c., comp. p. 34 and 230.

[333] Comp. p. 40. 42, with 234, 235.

[334] Comp. p. 172, and 333.

[335] Id. p. 60, and 252.

[336] Id. p. 82, _et seq._ and p. 293.

[337] Id. p. 134, and 299.

[338] Formularies, p. 38.

[339] Id. p. 233.

[340] Id. p. 39.

[341] Id. p. 233.

[342] Comp. pp. 162. 325.

[343] Strype’s Cranmer, pp. 136. 128.

[344] See Cranmer’s Catechism, p. 23.

[345] See Mr. Todd’s Life of Cranmer, i. 354.

[346] Strype, p. 137.

[347] Burnet, Reform. ii. Append. 3.

[348] Ellis’s Original Letters, ii. 187. 2d Series.

[349] “Cum animi amaritudine et cordis dolore.” Burnet, Reform. ii. 168.

[350] Parr’s Works, iv. 181.

[351] Burnet, ii. 37.

[352] Compare Hom. on Good Works, part iii. with the exposition of the
second commandment in the “Erudition,” p. 299.

[353] Burnet on the Articles, Pref. p. iii.

[354] Strype’s Cranmer, p. 149.

[355] Eccles. Biog. iii. 505, note, and Todd’s Cranmer, ii. 10, where
the authority of John Woolton, a nephew of Dean Nowell, who published
in 1576, is quoted for ascribing the three homilies above mentioned to
Cranmer.

[356] Burnet, Reform. ii. 26.

[357] Cranmer’s Catechism, pp. 182. 206. Oxford, 1829.

[358] Cranmer’s Catechism, p. 51.

[359] Id. p. 106.

[360] Cranmer’s Catechism, see pp. 208. 210. 213.

[361] Fox, ii. 425.

[362] Eccles. Mem. ii. 368.

[363] Churton’s Life of Dean Nowell, pp. 403. 407.

[364] Todd’s Life of Cranmer, ii. 61.

[365] On this subject see “A Collection of the Principal Liturgies,” by
Dr. Thomas Brett, with a Dissertation on the same, p. 357.

[366] Fox, ii. 659, who here gives the dates more accurately than
others.

[367] These were Goodrich, Bishop of Ely; Ridley, of Rochester; Skyp,
of Hereford; Thirlby, of Westminster; Day, of Chichester; Holbeach,
of Lincoln; Dr. May, Dean of St. Paul’s; Dr. Taylor, Dean of Lincoln;
Dr. Haynes, Dean of Exeter; Dr. Redmayn, Dean of Westminster; Dr.
Cox, Almoner to the King; and Dr. Robertson, Archdeacon of Leicester.
But the chief compilers, besides Cranmer, were probably Ridley and
Goodrich. In the committee for drawing up the Communion Office, there
were also the Archbishop of York, the Bishops of Durham, Worcester,
Norwich, St. Asaph, Litchfield, Salisbury, Carlisle, Bristol, and St.
David’s.

[368] Archbishop Laurence’s Bampton Lectures. pp. 207. 289.

[369] See Burnet, ii. 210.

[370] Wheatly, p. 267.

[371] The--day of September, 1559, the _New Morning Prayers_ began
now first at St. Antholin’s in Budgrow, ringing at _five_ in the
morning.--Strype’s Life of Grindal, p. 27.

[372] Bp. Sparrow’s Collections, p. 8.

[373] Ibid. p. 72.

[374] Herbert’s Country Parson, p. 76.

[375] Contempl. lib. xii.

[376] Country Parson, p. 25.

[377] Strype’s Cranmer, p. 27.

[378] Strype’s Annals, p. 87.

[379] Epistle Dedicatory to the University of Oxford, prefixed to vol.
vii. of his sermons, ed. 1722. 8vo.

[380] They are here given from a reprint of the last Primer of Edward
VI., by the Rev. H. Walter.--King Henry’s Primer, printed by Grafton
in 1546, though containing some prayers of a more private nature,
is in general an abridged translation of the Breviary; intended for
the use of a congregation, (see Sparrow’s Collection, p. 11.) and
furnished with a Litany nearly the same as that in our Book of Common
Prayer. These publications, therefore, though bearing the same name of
Primer, (which, indeed, seems to have been applied to many forms of
devotion published in those times,) are, in themselves, very different
works. Probably the Prayer Book having been put forth in the interval
superseded all other public forms, and thenceforward the Primer was
adapted to the use of the closet only.

[381] Strype’s Cranmer, p. 410. Archbishop Laurence, Bampton Lectures,
p. 37.

[382] Bampton Lectures, Notes, p. 233.

[383] Strype’s Cranmer, pp. 207, 208.

[384] Bampton Lectures, p. 233.

[385] Neal’s Hist. of the Puritans. iii. 55., and Append. n. 7. where
the amended articles may be seen.

[386] Neal’s Hist. of the Puritans, iv. p. 298.

[387] Bampton Lect. p. 234.

[388] Bampton Lect. pp. 45. 240.

[389] See Bampton Lect. p. 243. Strype’s Eccles. Mem. ii. 28.

[390] Strype’s Cranmer. p. 350.

[391] Strype’s Cranmer, Append. p. 195; and Annal. p. 207.

[392] Todd’s Life of Cranmer, i. 201.

[393] Archbishop Laurence, Bampton Lectures, Serm. iv. and v. This
subject is treated by Luther with great power in his Commentary on the
Epist. to the Galatians; see particularly ch. ii. v. 16.

[394] See Todd’s Cranmer, ii. 294.

[395] Prose Works, edited by George Burnett, i. 7.

[396] Bishop Hall, Ep. Decad. iv. 4.

[397] Warburton imagined that there was a political feeling coupled
with this scruple. Such a principle, pursued through its necessary
deductions, leading to a reformation of _Civil_ government on
_Jewish_ ideas. Alliance of Church and State, book i. sect. 4.
note.

[398] See his two admirable Sermons, xi. and xii. ad Aulam, on 1 Cor.
x. 23. “All things are lawful for me, but all things are not expedient;
all things are lawful for me, but all things edify not.”

[399] Strype’s Cranmer, p. 266.

[400] Strype’s Cranmer, p. 375.

[401] Strype’s Cranmer, Append. No xiv.

[402] Strype’s Cranmer, pp. 211. 212.

[403] Compare the Latin Catechism, p, 25, and the English, p. 34. See
Grindal’s opinion of these interludes. Strype’s Life of Grindal, p. 82.

[404] This letter is given from the original MS. in Mr. Todd’s new Life
of Cranmer, i. 205.

[405] Latimer’s Serm., i. 268.

[406] Strype’s Cranmer, p. 185. Latimer’s Serm., i. 268.

[407] See an original Letter published in Mr. Todd’s Life of Cranmer,
i. 363.

[408] Strype’s Cranmer, pp. 168. 279. Burnet, ii. 8.

[409] Strype’s Cranmer, p. 165.

[410] Burnet, ii. 203.

[411] Burnet, iii. 197.

[412] Heylyn’s Hist. of Reformation, fol. p. 134. There may be
something of high colouring in this picture of spoliation; for Heylyn
(who dedicates to Charles II.) had, as is well known, a strong
anti-puritan bias, which is particularly apparent in the unfavourable
complexion he gives to Edward’s reign in general, and in the unfair,
though self-contradictory, terms, in which he speaks of his individual
character: indeed, so strangely is he sometimes at variance with
himself on this subject, that he might almost be thought to have
written for one set of readers and revised for another. Still the
weakness of a minority is seen at this period--the more so after the
rule of a Henry--solitaque jugum gravitate carebat.

[413] Fox. ii. 707.

[414] Strype’s Cranmer, 313.

[415] Id. 360.

[416] See Sir John Hayward’s Life and Reign of Edward VI. given in
Kennet’s Hist. of England.

[417] Strype’s Cranmer, p. 283.

[418] Burnet, ii. 224.

[419] Fox, ii. 554.

[420] Burnet, ii. 127, 165.

[421] Hist. of the Puritans, part i. chap. iii. at the beginning.

[422] Wilkin’s Councils, iv. 86.

[423] Burnet, ii. 276. Comp. iii. 162.

[424] The sketch of this celebrated pulpit given in the title-page is
from a print in the library of Magdalen college, Cambridge; being one
of the many curiosities collected by Pepys; for a sight of which I am
indebted to the kindness of Mr. Lodge.

[425] Fox, iii. 18.

[426] The new foundations to which this measure gave occasion were
King’s Langley in Hertfordshire, to which she annexed the nunnery
of Dartford in Kent; the Greyfriars at Greenwich; the College of
Manchester; St. Bartholomew’s Priory in Smithfield; the House of the
Knights Hospitallers of St. John of Jerusalem; the Savoy Hospital; Sion
Nunnery; Westminster Abbey; Wolverhampton College in Staffordshire; and
the Carthusian Priory of Sheen in Surrey--ten in all: they were for the
most part re-annexed to the crown under Elizabeth; Ellis’s Letters of
the Reign of Queen Mary, vol. ii. 2d series. Strype’s Annals, p. 68.

[427] Strype’s Annals, p. 37.

[428] See Todd’s Life of Cranmer, ii. 331.

[429] Fox, iii. 116.

[430] Collier’s Eccl. Hist. ii. 282.

[431] Fox, iii. 125.

[432] Strype’s Annals, pp. 239, 240, 241. Strype’s Life of Grindal, pp.
11. 17. 22. fol., where there will be found much information as to the
manner in which Fox’s book was composed.

[433] Compare p. 444 of the first ed. (very scarce) with subsequent
editions.

[434] This incident has been made the subject of much criticism to
the disparagement of Fox: he, however, gives it as hearsay only; and
though the circumstantial details might not have been reported to him
correctly, the substantial fact may be true nevertheless. Fox, too, was
personally connected with the family of the Duke of Norfolk, (at whose
house the scene is said to have occurred,) being once tutor in it.
Strype’s Annals, pp. 110. 368.

[435] Strype’s Annals, p. 242.

[436] Fox, iii. 459.

[437] Three Conversions, ii. 215.

[438] Id. 230.

[439] Three Conversions, ii. 81, and Strype’s Annals, p. 240.

[440] Id. ii. 81, and Strype’s Annals, p. 336.

[441] Id. iii. 23.

[442] Fuller’s Church History, b. viii. 20. See also Fox, iii. 171.

[443] Strype’s Annals, p. 246.

[444] Fox, iii. 681.

[445] Strype’s Cranmer, p. 274.

[446] See, however, Fox, iii. 427; where the Bishop of Gloucester is
made to say, Latimer leaned to Cranmer, _Cranmer to Ridley_, and
Ridley to the singularity of his own wit. But it was the policy of the
Catholic party to run down Cranmer.

[447] Mr. Todd’s Life of Cranmer, i. 140, where this letter is printed
from the Lansdowne MSS.

[448] Copies of this disputation were abroad in Ridley’s life; for
Grindal in a letter to him, dated Frankfort, the 6th of May, 1555,
speaks of having seen such.--_Strype’s Life of Grindal_, pp. 12.
18. It seems that Cranmer and Ridley had committed all that they could
remember to writing; and that Grindal had compared their account with
that of the notaries, and found the two agreeing in the main.

[449] Burnet, ii. 315.

[450] Collier, ii. 397. Fox. Strype’s Eccles. Mem. iii. 291.

[451] Burnet’s Reform. iii. 263.

[452] Id. iii. 275. Strype’s Annals, p. 133.

[453] Id.

[454] Strype’s Life of Parker, pp. 33, 34. Where there is given, in the
Archbishop’s own words, a succinct catalogue of the miseries of this
reign.

[455] Bishop Jewel’s View of the Bull--towards the end.

[456] Bishop Jewel’s View of the Bull--towards the end.

[457] Strype’s Annals, p. 29.

[458] Ellis’s Letters, Second Series, ii. 261.

[459] Strype’s Annals, p. 41.

[460] Strype’s Annals, p. 82.

[461] Heylyn, p. 109. fol.

[462] Sparrow’s Collection, p. 82.

[463] Ibid. p. 112.

[464] Strype’s Annals, pp. 106. 147. 150.

[465] Id. p. 237.

[466] Strype’s Annals, p. 88.

[467] Strype’s Parker, p. 155.

[468] Strype’s Grindal, p. 28. et alibi.

[469] Spenser, Eclogue vii.

[470] The nature and political effects of this famous bull, issued by
Pius V. in 1563, may be seen in Bishop Jewel’s “view of it.”

[471] See Hallam’s Constitutional History, i. 223.

[472] See the letter in Burnet, ii. 311.

[473] See these injunctions in Bishop Sparrow’s Collection. p. 1. and
p. 67.

[474] Nelson’s Life of Bull, p. 25. Oxf.

[475] Strype’s Annals, p. 298.

[476] Chap. VIII.

[477] Hist. of his own times;--conclusion.

[478] See Sir James Mackintosh’s History of England, ii. 272., and for
the fact of the distinction (which has been disputed), Mr. Todd’s Life
of Cranmer, ii. 334.

[479] Jewel’s Apology, part iii. ch. i. sect. 3.

[480] See The Liberty of Prophesying, sect. xiii. No. i. p. 190. and
sect. xv. No. iii. p. 212. 4to.

[481] Cranmer’s Answer to Gardiner, p. 265. ed. 1580. quoted by Mr.
Todd, ii. 152.

[482] Serm. i. pp. 160. 183.

[483] Strype’s Annals, p, 256.

[484] Knight’s Life of Colet, p. 100.

[485] Latimer’s Serm. i. p. 94. Strype’s Cranmer, p. 89.

[486] These facts are gathered from a sermon at Paul’s Cross, in
1550 by one Thomas Lever, afterwards master of St. John’s College,
Cambridge. A copy of this sermon, and of another by the same author, is
in the library of St. John’s.

[487] See Sparrow’s Collection, pp. 6, 71. In K. Edward’s injunctions,
it is a “competent exhibition;” in Q. Elizabeth’s the sum is specified,
3_l._ 6_s._ 8_d._

[488] See particularly his Sermon on Psalm lxix. 9.

[489] Kennet on Impropriations, p. 297.


Transcriber’s Notes:

1. Obvious printers’, punctuation and spelling errors have been
corrected silently.

2. Some hyphenated and non-hyphenated versions of the same words have
been retained as in the original.

3. Italics are shown as _xxx_.



*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 70086 ***