The life of Hugh Latimer, Bishop of Worcester. By William Gilpin, M.A.

Table of contents

- SECTION I.

- SECTION II.

- SECTION III.

- SECTION IV.

- SECTION V.

- SECTION VI.

- SECTION VII.

- SECTION VIII.

- SECTION IX.

- SECTION X.

- SECTION XI.

- SECTION XII.

- SECTION XIII.

- SECTION XIV.

- SECTION XV.

- INDEX.

- [bythesameauthor]

THE LIFE OF HUGH LATIMER, Bishop of Worcester.

SECTION I.

HUGH LATIMER was born at Thirkesson in Leicestershire, about the year 1470. His father was a yeoman of good reputation; had no land of his own, but rented a small farm, on which, in those frugal times, he maintained a large family, six daughters, and a son. Mr. Larimer, in one of his court sermons in king Edward's time, inveighing against the oppression then exercised in the country by the nobility and gentry, and speaking of the moderation of landlords a few years before, and the plenty in which their tenants lived, tells his audience, in his familiar way, ‘That upon a farm of four pounds a year at the utmost, his father tilled as much ground as kept half a dozen men; that he had it stocked with an hundred sheep, and thirty cows; that he found the king a man and horse, himself remembering to have buckled on his father's harness, when he went to Black-heath; that he gave his daughters five pounds apiece at marriage; that he lived hospitably among his neighbours, and was not backward in his alms to the poor.’—An entertaining picture of an old English yeoman!

We meet with nothing about Mr. Latimer worth relating, till we find him a master of arts, in priest's orders, at Cambridge. Here his youth had been wholly employed on the divinity of the times. He read the schoolmen and the scriptures with the same reverence, and held Thomas a Becket and the apostles in equal honour; in a word, he was a zealous papist.

Many of the reformed opinions, which were then fermenting in Germany, had by this time discovered themselves in England. The legistature had not yet interfered; but the watchful priests had taken the alarm, and the danger of the church was already become the popular cry. Mr. Latimer, among others, heard, with high indignation, these novel teachers: zeal wrought the same effect in him that interest did in the many; and while others were apprehensive that their temporals might be in danger, he was concerned for the souls of men. The last times, he thought, were now approaching: impiety was gaining ground apace: what lengths might not men be expected to run, when they began to question even the infallibility of the pope?

As his well-meant zeal was thus inflamed, it of course broke out into all the effects of bigotry. He inveighed publicly and privately against the reformers. If any read lectures in the schools suspected of their tenets, Mr. Latimer was sure to be there to drive out the scholars; and having an opportunity, when he commenced bachelor of divinity, to give an open testimony of his dislike to their proceedings, he made an oration against Melancthon, whom he treated with great severity for his impious innovations in religion. His zeal was so much taken notice of in the university, that he was elected into the office of cross-bearer in all public processions; an employment, which he accepted with reverence, and discharged with becoming solemnity.

Among those in Cambridge, who at this time favoured the reformation, the most considerable was Thomas Bilney. He was a man of a most holy life; and having long observed the scandalous state of monkery in the nation, and the prevailing debauchery of the clergy, he was led to doubt, whether their principles might not be as corrupt as their practice; and whether the new opinions, then gaining ground, might not be more than plausible. Time increased his suspicions. He read Luther's writings, and approved them. He conversed with protestants, and found them men of temper and learning. He talked with papists, and observed a bitterness and rancour in their style, which ill became a good causs. In few words, he began to see popery in a very disagreeable light; and made no scruple to own it.

It was Mr. Latimer's good fortune to be well acquainted with this religious person. Mr. Bilney had long indeed conceived very favourable sentiments of him. He had known his life in the university, a life strictly moral and devout: he ascribed his failings to the genius of his religion; and notwithstanding his more than ordinary zeal in the profession of that religion, he could not but observe in him a very candid temper, prejudiced by no finister views, and an honesty of heart, which gave him great hopes of his reformation.

Induced by these favourable appearances, Mr. Bilney failed not, as opportunities offered, to suggest many things to him about corruptions in religion; and would frequently drop a hint, that in the Romish church in particular there were perhaps some things, which rather deviated from apostolic plainness. He would instance some of it's grosser tenets; and ask, whether the scriptural authority alledged for them was wholly sufficient? if not, whether tradition were a safe vehicle for doctrines of such importance? Thus starting cavils, and infusing suspicions, he prepared the way for his whole creed, which at length he opened; concluding with an earnest persuasion, that Mr. Latimer would only endeavour to divest himself of his prejudices, and place the two sides of the question before him, with an honest heart for his guide.

How Mr. Latimer at first received these free declarations, and by what steps he attained a settlement in his religious opinions, I meet with no account; this only I find in general, that Mr. Bilney's friendship toward him had its effect.

Mr. Latimer no sooner ceased from being a zealous papist, than he became (such was his constitutional warmth) a zealous protestant. He had nothing of that neutral coolness in his temper, which the Athenian lawgiver discouraged in a commonwealth. Accordingly we soon find him very active in supporting and propagating the reformed opinions. He endeavoured with great assiduity to make converts, both in the town, and in the university; preaching in public, exhorting in private, and every where pressing the necessity of a holy life, in opposition to those outward performances, which were then thought the essentials of religion.

A behaviour of this kind was immediately taken notice of. Cambridge was then the seat of ignorance, bigotry, and superstition: every new opinion was watched with the utmost jealousy; and Mr. Latimer soon perceived how obnoxious he had already made himself.

The first remarkable opposition he met with from the popish party, was occasioned by a course of sermons he preached during the holidays of Christmas, before the university; in which he spoke his sentiments with great freedom upon many opinions and usages, maintained and practised in the Romish Church. In these sermons he shewed the impiety of indulgences, the uncertainty of tradition, and the vanity of works of supererrogation: he inveighed against that multiplicity of ceremonies with which true religion was incumbered; and the pride and usurpation of the Romish hierarchy: but what he most insisted upon was, that great abuse of locking up the scripture in an unknown tongue; giving his reasons without any reserve, why it ought to be put in every one's hands.

Few of the tenets of popery were then questioned in England, but such as tended to a relaxation of morals. Transubstantiation, and other points, rather speculative, still held their dominion. Mr. Latimer therefore, chiefly dwelt upon those of immoral tendency. He shewed what true religion was; that it was seated in the heart; and that, in companison with it, external appointments were of no value.

Great was the outcry occasioned by these discourses. Mr. Latimer was then a preacher of some eminence, and began to display a remarkable address in adapting himself to the capacities of the people. The orthodox clergy observing him thus followed, thought it high time to oppose him openly. This task was undertaken by Dr. Buckenham, prior of the black friers, who appeared in the pulpit a few Sundays after, and with great pomp and prolixity, shewed the dangerous tendency of Mr. Latimer's opinions: particularly he inveighed against his heretical notions of having the scriptures in English, laying open the ill effects of such an innovation. If that heresy, said he, should prevail, we should soon see an end of every thing useful among us. The ploughman reading, that if he put his hand to the plough, and should happen to look back, he was unfit for the kingdom of God, would soon lay aside his labour: the baker likewise reading, that a little leaven will corrupt his lump, would give us very insipid bread: the simple man likewise finding himself commanded to pluck out his eyes▪ in a few years we should have the nation full of blind beggars.

Mr. Latimer could not help listening with a secret pleasure to this ingenious reasoning. Perhaps he had acted as prudently, if he had considered the prior's arguments as unanswerable; but he could not resist the vivacity of his temper, which strongly inclined him to expose this solemn trifler.

The whole university met together on Sunday, when it was known Mr. Latimer would preach▪ That vein of pleasantry and humour, which ran through all his words and actions would have here, it was imagined, full scope: and, to say the truth, the preacher was not a little conscious of his own superiority. To complete the scene, just before the sermon began, prior Buckenham himself entered the church, with his coul about his shoulders; and seated himself with an air of importance before the pulpit.

Mr. Latimer, with great gravity, recapitulated the learned doctor's arguments, placed them in the strongest light, and then rallied them with such a flow of wit, and at the same time with so much good humour, that, without the appearance of ill-nature, he made his adversary in the highest degree ridiculous. He then, with great address, appealed to the people, descanted upon the low esteem in which their holy guides had always held their understandings; expressed the utmost offence at their being treated with such contempt, and wished his honest countrymen might only have the use of the scripture till they shewed themselves such absurd interpreters. He concluded his discourse with a few observations upon scripture-metaphors. A figurative manner of speech, he said, was common in all languages: representations of this kind were in daily use, and generally understood. Thus for instance, said he, (addressing himself to that part of the audience where the prior was seated) when we see a fox painted preaching in a frier's hood, nobody imagines that a fox is meant, but that craft and hypocrisy are described, which are so often found disguised in that garb.—Thus was a wise man led away by the impulses of vanity, and highly delighted with the little glory of having made a dunce ridiculous.

But it is probable, Mr. Latimer thought this levity unbecoming: for when one Venetus, a foreigner, not long after attacked him again upon the same subject, and in manner the most scurrilous and provoking, we find him using a graver strain. He answers like a scholar, what is worth answering; and like a man of sense, leaves the absurd part to confute itself. Whether he ridiculed however, or reasoned, with so much of the spirit of true oratory, considering the times, were his harangues animated, that they seldom failed of their intended effect: his raillery shut up the prior within his monastery; and his arguments drove Venetus from the university.

These advantages increased the credit of the protestant party in Cambridge, of which Bilney and Latimer were at the head. The meekness, gravity, and unaffected piety of the former, and the cheerfulness, good humour, and eloquence of the latter, wrought much upon the junior students.

These things greatly alarmed the orthodox clergy. Of this sort were all the heads of colleges, and, indeed, the senior part of the university. Frequent convocations were held; tutors were admonished to have a strict eye over their pupils; and academical censures of all kinds were inflicted.

But academical censures were found insufficient. Mr. Latimer continued to preach, and heresy to spread. The true spirit of popery therefore began to exert itself, and to call aloud for the secular arm.

Dr. West was at that time bishop of Ely. To him, as their diocesan, the heads of the popish party applied. But the bishop was not a man for their purpose: he was a papist indeed, but moderate. He came to Cambridge however; examined the state of religion, and at their intreaty, preached against heretics: but he would do nothing farther. Only, indeed, he silenced Mr. Latimer; which, as he had preached himself, was an instance of his prudence.

This gave no great check to the reformers. There happened at that time to be a protestant prior in Cambridge, Dr. Barnes, of the Austin friers. His monastery was exempt from episcopal jurisdiction, and being a great admirer of Mr. Latimer, he boldly licenced him to preach there. Hither his party followed him; and the late opposition having greatly excited the curiosity of the people, the friers chapel was soon unable to contain the crowds that attended. Among others, it is remarkable, that the bishop of Ely was often one of his hearers; and had the ingenuity to declare, that Mr. Latimer was one of the best preachers he had ever heard.

The credit to his cause which Mr. Latimer had thus gained by preaching, he maintained by a holy life. Mr. Bilney and he did not satisfy themselves with acting unexceptionably, but were daily giving instances of goodness, which malice could not scandalize, nor envy misinterpret. They were always together concerting their schemes. The place where they used to walk, was long afterwards known by the name of the Heretics hill. Cambridge at the time was full of their good actions: their charities to the poor, and friendly visits to the sick and unhappy, were then common topics.

But their good lives had no merit with their adversaries. With them it mattered not what a man's life was, if his opinions were orthodox. They could give great allowances for the former; but the least mistake in the latter, was unpardonable. Such is the true spirit of bigotry and priestcraft; that pharisaical spirit, which, inverting the tables of the law, places points of least importance uppermost.

More of this spirit never reigned than at this time in Cambridge. The popish party, among whom every spark of charity seemed extinguished, were now inflamed to the uttermost. The good actions of their adversaries served only as fuel to increase the heat of persecution. Impotent themselves, and finding their diocesan either unable or unwilling to work their purposes, they determined at length upon an appeal to the higher powers. Here at least, they expected countenance. Heavy complaints were accordingly carried to court of the increase of heresy; and formal depositions against the principal abettors of it.

But as a new scene will here open, and different characters make their appearance, it will be necessary to give some account of the times, and of the most considerable persons then in action.

SECTION II.

PRotestantism, which was now spreading itself apace in Germany, and many other parts of Europe, had yet met with no public countenance in England. There superstition still held its reign. The regular clergy, encroaching more and more, had at length engrossed one third of the kingdom. A large share of temporal power was the consequence of this wealth; and the gross ignorance of the times established them as fully in a spiritual dominion. From the days of Wicliff, who flourished in the reign of Richard the second, many began to speak with some freedom, and to think with more, of the prevailing corruptions of popery. But severe laws, purchased of needy kings, and executed by cruel priests, held these sectaries in awe. The inclinations of the people, however, through this whole period of time, ran strong against the clergy; and Luther was more than a little obliged to Wicliff for his reception in England.

As soon therefore as the opinions of the reformers were introduced, they were warmly espoused; the generality of the people were disposed for them; and protestants in many places began to form parties. But in those intolerant times when kings thought it incumbent upon them to think for their Subjects, private opinion and the inclinations of the people were little consulted; reasons of state prevailed; and Henry the eighth, who then reigned in England, had yet his motives for holding fair with the court of Rome.

The great cause which at this time held the nation attentive, was the king's divorce; a suit of Law one of the most famous in history. After cohabiting near twenty years with his brother's wife, this religious prince was suddenly seized, upon the appearance of Ann Boleyn at court, with scruples of conscience about the legality of his marriage; and not only schoolmen and canonists, but kings, popes, and emperors were interested in this affair.

At that time one of the most wily prelates held the see of Rome. He had interests to manage with Charles the fifth, who was averse to the divorce. He had interests likewise to manage with Henry. These cross circumstances called for all his subtility. And indeed he shewed himself a master of address. He amused each in his turn, and meant honestly to neither; perplexing affairs, palliating, explaining, and perplexing again, that he might thouroughly deliberate before he chose his party. the emperor in the mean time was thoroughly satisfied with his conduct; and Henry thought him tardy indeed, but still never doubted his disposition to serve him. A legantine court was erected in England, and the affair went on with all the dispatch that two solemn cardinals could make.

While the king thus expected an end of his business in a regular way, which of all things he desired, he was careful in observing all forms of civility with the pope. The poor protestants in many instances felt the effects of his complaisance. He even went so far as to use his own princely pen against them; and, as the courtiers of his time used to say, wrote incomparably well. No new laws indeed were enacted. The old ones against Wicliff's heresy were thought sufficient. These statutes were revived, and the bishops in several parts of the kingdom took very effectual pains to make those under their care acquainted with them.

The principal persons at this time concerned in ecclesiastical affairs, were cardinal Woolsey, Warham archbishop of Canterbury, and Tunstal bishop of London.

Woolsey had certainly as few virtues to qualify as many vices as most men. Abilities indeed he had, the abilities of a statesman; but his chief merit was a very artful application to his master's foibles, and the address to make himself thought useful: he could condescend even to serve his pleasures. Where his prince's humours did not interfere, the principal springs of his conduct were ambition, pride, and avarice; all which vices he found the means to gratify in a manner unparalleled in English story. It was humourously said, he held the church of England in commendam. As to matters of faith, he was easy, and was therefore indeed no zealot: in practice he scarce observed decency; yet he was a great advocate for the reformation of the clergy; and contributed every way towards it, but by setting a good example. He even went so far as to countenance the protestants, because he found that the best means of rousing the clergy to a sense of shame.

Warham was now an old man. He had been the favourite of the last reign, and was practised in all the artifices of Harry the seventh's policy; an able statesman, and an artful courtier. But he had out-lived his capacity for business; had withdrawn himself from all court dependencies, and led at this time a very retired life; indulging a polite indolence among learned men, of whom he was a very great patron; himself a man of letters. The duties of his function, he thought, consisted chiefly in opposing heretics; and the severest kind of opposition he thought the best. In other respects he was a good man; would have been no disgrace to a better religion; and was an ornament to popery.

But of all the prelates of those times, Cuthbert Tunstal, bishop of London, was most deservedly esteemed. He was a papist only by profession; no way influenced by the spirit of popery: but he was a good catholic, and had true notions of the genius of christianity. He considered a good life as the end, and faith as the means; and never branded as an heretic that person, however erroneous his opinions might be in points less fundamental, who 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 had such a belief in Christ, as made him live like a christian. He was just therefore the reverse of Warham, and thought the persecution of protestants one of the things most foreign to his function. For parts and learning he was very eminent: his knowledge was extensive, and his taste in letters superior to that of most of his contemporaries. The great foible of which he stands accused in history, was the pliancy of his temper. Like most of the bishops of those times, he had been bred in a court; and was indeed too dextrous in the arts there practised.

Such was the situation of things, and such the persons in power, when complaints came from Cambridge of the daily increase of heresy. Tunstal, with an air of sanctity, shook his head, declaring it was shameful indeed, very shameful! Warham raged loud, and talked of nothing but fire and extirpation, root and branch. While the cardinal treated the whole as a jest, attributing it to the envy of a few illiterate priests against men of superior merit.

But complaints from Cambridge increasing daily, and Warham of course growing more importunate, the cardinal was at length obliged to shake off his indifference, and begin to act. He erected a court therefore, consisting of bishops, divines, and canonists. Tunstal was made president; and Bilney, Latimer, and one or two more were called upon to answer for their conduit. Bilney was considered as the heresiarc, and against him chiefly, the rigour of the court was levelled. His examination was accordingly severe: every witness was heard with so much attention, and every deposition enlarged upon with so much bitterness, that Tunstal despaired of mixing any temper with the proceedings of his colleagues. The process came to an end, and the criminal, declaring himself what they called an obstinate heretic, was found guilty. Here Tunstal had an opportunity to shew the goodness of his heart. He could not interfere in Mr. Bilney's favour in a judicial way; but he laboured to save him by all the means in his power. He first set his friends upon him, to persuade him to recant; and when that would not do, he joined his intreaties to theirs, had patience with him day after day, and with all the tenderness of humanity, begged he would not oblige him, contrary to his inclinations, to treat him with severity. The good bishop in the end prevailed: Bilney could not withstand the winning rhetoric of Tunstal, though he had withstood all the menaces of the inflamed Warham. He recanted, bore his faggot, and was dismissed.

As for Mr. Latimer and the rest, they had easier terms: Tunstal omitted no opportunities of shewing mercy, and was dextrous in finding them; though it is probable, that among so many voices, he would hardly have prevailed, if the cardinal had not countenanced his proceedings.

The heretics, upon their dismission, returned to Cambridge, where they were received with open arms by their friends. Amidst this mutual joy, Bilney alone seemed unaffected: he shunned the fight of his acquaintance, and received their officious congratulations with confusion and blushes. Reflection had now brought him to himself; and remorse of conscience had seized him for what he had done. Restless nights, frightful dreams, and other effects of a mind that preys upon itself, in a short time disturbed his reason; and it was feared he might have committed something horrid, if those about him had not closely attended him. In the agonies of his despair, his pathetic and eager accusations of his friends, of the bishop of London, and above all, of himself, were very affecting. Thus he continued for some time one of the most shocking spectacles that human nature can exhibit. His passion having had its course, at length subsided; and by degrees gave place to a profound melancholy. In this state he continued about three years, reading much, avoiding company, and in all respects observing the severity of an ascetic. During this time, and especially towards the latter part of it, he would frequently be throwing out obscure hints of his meditating some extraordinary design. He would say, that he was now almost prepared — that he would shortly go up to Jerusalem— and that God must be glorified in him. After keeping his friends awhile in suspense by this mysterious language, he told them at last, that he was fully determined to expiate his late shameful abjuration by his death. What they could oppose, had no weight. He had taken his resolution; and breaking at once from all his attachments in Cambridge, he set out for Norfolk, which was the place of his nativity, and which, for that reason, he chose to make the scene of his death. When he came there, he went about the country, confessing his guilt in abjuring a faith, in which he was now determined to die. Popery, he told the people, was a most diabolical religion; and exhorted them to beware of idolatry, and to trust no longer in the cowl of St. Francis, in prayers to saints, in pilgrimages, penances, and indulgences; but rather to believe in Jesus Christ, and to lead good lives, which was all that God required of them.

The report of this very extraordinary preacher soon reached the ears of the bishop of Norwich, who watched over those parts with the zeal of an inquisitor. Mr. Bilney was soon apprehended, and secured in the county-gaol. While he lay there waiting the arrival of the writ for his execution, he gave very surprising instances of a firm and collected mind. He began now to recover from that abject state of melancholy, which had for these last three years oppressed him; and, like an honest man, who had long lived under a difficult debt, he began to resume his spirits, when he thought himself in a situation to discharge it. Some of his friends found him eating a hearty supper the night before his execution, and expressing their surprize, he told them, he was but doing what they had daily examples of in common life: he was only keeping his cottage in repair, while he continued to inhabit it. The same composure ran through his whole behaviour; and his conversation was that evening more agreeable than his friends almost ever remembered it. He dwelt much upon a passage in Isaiah, which he said gave him much comfort. "Fear not, for I have redeemed thee; thou art mine. When thou walkest in the fire, it shall not burn thee: I am the Lord thy God." With equal constancy he went through his last trial. His death, which Mr. Fox relates at large, was as noble an instance of christian courage, as those times, fruitful of such examples, afforded. The popish party would have had it afterwards believed he died in their faith: and great pains were taken by many of them to propagate the story; particularly by Sir Thomas Moore, whose opinions in religion were as confined, as his sentiments upon all other subjects were enlarged: but Mr. Fox, bishop Burnet, and others, have sufficiently refuted the many idle things which were said upon that occasion.

The following account of him, Mr. Latimer hath left us in a letter to a friend.

"I have known Bilney, says he, a great while; and to tell you what I have always thought of him, I have known few so ready to do every man good, after his power; noisome wittingly to none; and towards his enemy charitable, and reconcileable. To be short, he was a very simple, good soul, nothing meet for this wretched world; whose evil state he would lament and bewail, as much as any man that I ever knew. As for his singular learning, as well in the holy scriptures, as in other good letters, I will not now speak of it. How he ordered, or misordered himself in judgment, I cannot tell, nor will I meddle withal: but I cannot but wonder, if a man living so mercifully, so charitably, so patiently, so continently, so studiously, and so virtuously, should die an evil death."

SECTION III.

MR. Bilney's sufferings, instead of checking the reformation at Cambridge, inspired the leaders of it with new courage; and illustrated a common observation, that persecution is always an unadvised measure in opposing religious innovations. Mr. Latimer began now to exert himself more than he had yet done; and succeeded to that credit with his party which Mr. Bilney had so long supported. Among other instances of his zeal and resolution in this cause, he gave one, which was indeed very remarkable. He had the courage to write to the king against a proclamation then just published, forbidding the use of the Bible in English, and other books on religious subjects. The affair was this.

Ever since the reformation had any footing in the kingdom, great care had been taken by the promoters of it to propagate among the people a variety of tracts, some on the points then in controversy, others, and the greater part, on the corruptions of the clergy. These books were printed abroad, and sent over in great quantities. Among other works of this kind, a translation of the New Testament was dispersed. Great were the clamours of the orthodox against these malignant and pestiferous writings, as they were then called. But as the government did not interfere, the bishops could only use the authority of the laws then in force, in guarding each his diocese from these invasions of heresy. Episcopal injunctions were accordingly published, and all possible care was taken. But the laws then in force, did not intirely touch the case: none of them were particularly pointed against. heretical books. Something more therefore must be obtained from the government.

It happened, that among other tracts then dispersed, there was one Written in a warmer language than ordinary. It was entitled, The Supplication of the Beggars, and contained a very severe invective against. the regular clergy, whose exorbitant exactions upon the people were there represented as the chief source of all the poverty in the nation. This piece roused the whole body of the clergy; and the cardinal being at their head, a successful application was made to the king, who immediately issued out a most severe proclamation against heretical books, commanding that all such books should be delivered up within fifteen days, and impowering the bishops to imprison at pleasure all persons suspected of having them, till the party had purged himself, or abjured: it impowered the bishops likewise to set an arbitrary fine upon all persons convicted. It farther forbad all appeals from ecclesiastical courts; and obliged all civil officers, by oath, to use their utmost endeavours to extirpate heresy, and assist the bishops; justices were to inquire, at their quarterly sessions, into the state of religion in their counties; and sheriffs were to arrest all suspected persons, and deliver them to the bishops.

The sword thus put into the hands of the bishops, was presently unsheathed. The effects of this proclamation, and in that reign proclamations had the force of law, were indeed very dreadful. It would surprise the good people of England at this day to hear, that many of their forefathers were then burnt for reading the Bible, and teaching their children the Ten Commandments, and the Lord's Prayer in English. Such things were then called heresy.

On this occasion Mr. Latimer took upon him to write to the king. He had preached before him once or twice at Windsor, and had been taken notice of by him in a more affable manner than that monarch usually indulged towards his subjects. But whatever hopes of preferment his sovereign's favour might have raised in him, he chose to put all to the hazard, rather than to omit what he thought his duty. He was generally considered as one of the most eminent of those who favoured protestantism; and therefore thought it became him to be one of the most forward in opposing popery. His letter is the picture of an honest, sincere heart. It was chiefly intended to point out to the king the bad intention of the bishops in procuring the proclamation. The substance of it is as follows.

St. Augustin, in an epistle to Casulanus, tells us, "That he who through fear, hideth the truth, provoketh the wrath of heaven, as a person who fears man more than God." And St. Chrysostom, to the same effect, gives it as his opinion, "That a person may betray the truth, as well by concealing it, as disguising it." These sentences, great king, occurred to me very lately; and have had such an effect upon me, that I must either open my conscience to your majesty, or rank myself among such persons as these two holy fathers censure.—The latter I cannot think of.

But, alas! there are men upon whom such severe censures have no effect: there are men, who, pretending to be guides and teachers in religion, not only conceal the truth, but prohibit others to set it forth: blind guides, who shut up the kingdom of heaven from men, and will neither enter in themselves, neither suffer them that would, to enter. And not content with obstructing the word of God to the utmost of their own authority, they have contrived by their subtil practices to draw in to their assistance the civil power in almost all the states of christendom. In this nation especially, they have long imposed upon their subjects by their delusions, and kept them in awe by their spiritual censures; and when they saw the truth likely to prevail, and gather strength from their opposition, they have at length obtained your majesty's proclamation in their favour, and have got it declared treason to read the scripture in English.

Hear me, I beseech your majesty, a few words, and let me intreat you to call to mind the example of Christ and his apostles, their manner of life, their preaching, and whole behaviour; that comparing them with the spiritual guides of these days, your majesty may the better judge who are the true followers of Christ.

And first it is evident, that simplicity of manners, and hearts sequestered from the world, were the striking characteristics of the first preachers of the gospel, and of our blessed Lord himself. Poverty in spirit was then practised as well as preached. Alas! it is since those days that christian teachers, masking their worldly hearts under a pretence of voluntary poverty, and an exclusion from carnal things, have wormed themselves into more than regal wealth; and have wickedly kept what they have craftily obtained, by fomenting foreign or domestic strife, in all places, as their purposes were best served; and by blasphemously dealing out even the punishments of heaven against all who had resolution enough to make any stand against their corruptions. By what arts they have evaded a late act of parliament against their encroachments, your majesty well knows. — Think not, gracious sovereign, that I exceed the bounds of charity in what I say: I only offer to your majesty's consideration a rule, which was once prescribed by a greater master, "By their fruits you shall know them."

Another mark of the true disciples of Christ, is their being at all times exposed to persecution. It would be endless to quote all the passages of scripture, in which this burden is universally laid upon good christians. Contempt and reproach is their common lot, and often the most violent persecutions, even to death itself. Where-ever, therefore, the word of God is truly preached, you must expect to see persecution in one shape or other. On the contrary, where-ever you see ease and luxury, and a quiet possession of worldly pleasures, there the truth cannot possibly be. For the world loveth only such as are worldly; and the favourers of the gospel can expect nothing in it from reason, and are promised nothing in it by scripture, but vexation and trouble.—From this distinction again, your majesty, by the assistance of the above-mentioned rule, "By their fruits you shall know them," will be able to judge, who are the true followers of Christ: where-ever you observe persecution, there is more than a probability that the truth lies on the persecuted side.

As for a notion, which has been infused into your majesty, that the scriptures in the hands of the people might move them to rebellion, your majesty may judge of the falsehood of this likewise by the same rule: "By their fruit you shall know them." How is it possible, that a book, which inculcates obedience to magistrates with the greatest earnestness, can be the cause of sedition? The thing speaks itself, and discovers only how much their malice is at a loss for topics of invective.

When king David sent ambassadors to the young king of the Ammonites to condole with him upon the death of his father, your majesty may remember what unadvised counsel was given to that rash prince. His counsellors put it into his head, contrary to all reason, that David's messengers came only as spies, and that David certainly meant 〈◊〉 invasion. The young king, upon this, without farther ceremony, wantonly shaved the heads of the ambassadors, and treated them with other instances of contempt. But the following verses inform us, how the affair ended. The destruction of the whole land, we read, was the consequenee of the king's listening to imprudent counsel.

Let not, great king, this fact find its parallel in English story. The ambassadors of a great prince are now making suit to you; the holy evangelists, and apostles of Christ. Be upon your guard; and believe not the idle tales of those who would persuade you, that these messengers of peace are coming to foment sedition in your land. Would your majesty know the true cause of this confederacy, as I may well call it, against the word of God; examine the lives of those who are the leaders of it, and consider whether there may not be some private reasons inducing such persons to keep a book in concealment, which cries out loudly against all kinds of vice. And if your majesty wants to know the source of rebellions, I think a much fairer one may be conjectured at, than the use of an English Bible. For my own part, I have long been of opinion, that a greater encouragement of all kinds of civil disorder could hardly have been invented, than the church-trade of pardons and indulgences: to which may be added the bad examples of the clergy, and the little care they are generally thought to take in the discharge of their duty.

As for those who are now in question about your majesty's late proclamation, I am credibly informed, there is not one among them, who hath not in every respect, demeaned himself as a peaceable and good subject; excepting only this one case, in which they thought their religion and consciences concerned. In this particular, however, I excuse them not: nor will I take upon me intirely to defend the books for which they suffer; for indeed, many of them I have never read: only this your majesty must give me leave to say, that it is impossible the many inconveniences can follow from these books, and especially from the scripture, which they would persuade mankind, will follow.

Accept, gracious sovereign, without displeasure, what I have written. I thought it my duty to mention these things to your majesty. No personal quarrel, as God shall judge me, have I with any man: I wanted only to induce your majesty to consider well what kind of persons you have about you, and the ends for which they counsel: indeed, great prince, many of them, or they are much slandered, have very private ends. God grant your majesty may see through all the designs of evil men: and be in all things equal to the high office with which you are entrusted!

He concludes his letter with these very emphatical words.

"Wherefore, gracious king, remember yourself: have pity upon your own soul; and think that the day is at hand, when you shall give account of your office, and of the blood that hath been shed by your sword. In the which day, that your grace may stand stedfastly, and not be ashamed, but be clear and ready in your reckoning, and have your pardon sealed with the blood of our Saviour Christ, which only serveth at that day, is my daily prayer to him who suffered death for our sins. The Spirit of God preserve you!"

With such freedom did this true minister of the gospel address his sovereign. But the influence of the popish party was then so great, that his letter produced no effect. The king, however, no way displeased, received it not only with temper, but with great condescension, graciously thanking him for his well-intended advice. This monarch notwithstanding his many vices, would frequently indulge a very generous manner of thinking. He was himself generally open in his behaviour; and was a great lover of sincerity in others. Plainness and honesty were commonly sure of his attention. And though no man was more impatient of controul, or naturally more hasty upon most occasions, and violent than he was, yet he would often hear the truth, and the truth indeed spoken with great freedom, from those, of whose sincerity he was thoroughly convinced. I make these remarks chiefly because Mr. Latimer was a person whose plain and simple manner had made a favourable impression upon him; which good opinion this letter contributed not a little to strengthen.

SECTION IV.

THE king's divorce was not yet brought to an issue. The pope, terrified by an imperial army hovering over him, and yet afraid of the defection of England, was still endeavouring, as was said, to hold the balance even between Charles V. and Henry. The legantine court therefore, under the influence of Rome, was not hasty in its determinations. But the tediousness of the suit at length got the better of the king of England's patience. His incontroulable spirit broke out; and finding himself duped by the pope, he disclaimed his authority in the affair, took it into his own hands, and had it determined within his own realm. Having gone thus far in defiance of the see of Rome, and finding his throne yet unshaken by any of its efforts, he was proceeding farther. But the pope beginning to temporize, a reconciliation was thought at hand. The imperial faction, however, once again prevailed; Henry's measures were traversed; and himself, in the person of his ambassador, treated with indignity.

Hitherto Henry was secretly inclined to a reconciliation with Rome; but his resentment of this usage took such intire possession of him, that from this time he determined absolutely to throw off the papal yoke. Upon such slender pivots, as even the passions of men, do the grand schemes of providence often turn!

Soon after Henry had taken this resolution, the affair was brought into parliament; and the king's supremacy was every where the popular topic.

The usurpations of the pope had, before this time, been the subject of a parliamentary inquiry. Through many preceeding reigns, the exactions of the holy see had been so oppressive, that the legislature was often applied to for redress; and many laws, breathing a noble spirit of freedom, had been enacted, by which the Roman power was much abridged. Of these the most famous were the statute against the pope's taxgatherers, commonly called the stature against provisors; and the statute of praemunire, prohibiting bulls and other instruments from Rome. The word praemunire, which gave name to the statute, was one of the capital words in the writ, upon which it was executed.

But notwithstanding these, and many other bold laws were enacted, no effect was produced. They were promulged, and laid aside. The influence of the vatican was indeed yet too considerable to suffer any very spirited attacks upon its power.

Neglected however as these statutes were, they served as precedents for Henry's parliament; which concurred intirely with the king's inclinations. Luther's exceptions were now growing popular: every year brought something to light, which prejudiced men more against the doctrine, or the discipline, or the priesthood of the church of Rome. The parliament therefore wanted little inducement to turn their councils upon any thing which tended to reformation. Thus the king, with less difficulty than commonly attends such important revolutions, got the pope's power abrogated in England, and his own supremacy established in its stead.

The part which Mr. Latimer acted in this affair, was one of the first things which brought him forward in life.

Whatever motives in earnest influenced king Henry, he had always policy enough to pay an outward regard at least to those of conscience. He took care therefore to resolve his scruples, before he gratified his passions. Thus he had the opinion of all the divines in Europe, before he ventured upon his divorce. And thus, in the present case, he durst not assert his supremacy, till he had consulted with the ablest canonists of his realm, and fully satisfied himself, that what he did, was agreeable to the Old and New Testament.

Among those who served him in this business, was Dr. Butts, his physician; who, from the slender accounts preserved of him in history, appears to have been a person of great honesty, learning, and humanity. Mr. Fox calls him "a singular good man, and a special favourer of good proceedings."

This gentleman being sent to Cambridge upon the occasion mentioned, began immediately to pay his court to the protestant party, from whom the king expected most unanimity in his favour. Among the first, he made his application to Mr. Latimer, as a person most likely to serve him; begging that he would collect the opinions of his friends in the case, and do his utmost to bring over those of most eminence, who were still inclined to the papacy. Mr. Latimer, who was a thorough friend to the cause he was to solicit, undertook it with his usual zeal; and discharged himself so much to the satisfaction of the doctor, that when that gentleman returned to court, he took Mr. Latimer along with him; with a view, no doubt, to procure him something answerable to his merit.

About this time a person was rising into power, who became afterwards Mr. Latimer's chief friend and patron; the great lord Cromwell: a person in all respects so formed for command, that we admire him, through history, as something more than human, as one of those great instruments, which providence often raises up, and seems to inspire, for some grand purpose. His descent was mean, but his enterprising genius soon raised him above the obscurity of his birth. We first find him abroad, leading a wild, romantic life in various capacities. In Holland he was a hackney writer; in Italy a foot soldier. After spending a very dissipated youth in this vague way, he returned home, and was taken into the service of cardinal Woolsey, who in a short time made him his secretary. Under this sagacious minister he began to methodize the large fund of knowledge he had been treasuring up; and was soon valued by the cardinal, who was by no means ill-served, as one of the ablest of his servants. The cardinal's fall was his rise: but he rose not, like most favourites, by betraying, but by defending his master. Woolsey had arrived at the full meridian of his glory; that critical point, at which human grandeur begins to decline. The distressed minister was now at bay, pressed hard by a parliamentary inquiry. The king had withdrawn his favour from him, and all his dependents (those summerflies of a great man's sunshine) began to shrink and die away. Cromwell alone, with a generosity almost unparalleled in history, boldly maintained his cause; and pleaded for him so forcibly before the commons, that if his ruin had not been a thing resolved on, he bid fair to avert it. Woolsey fell; but Cromwell's generosity was rewarded. The king was pleased with his behaviour, marked his abilities, from that time favoured, and soon employed him. His great talents quickly recommended him to the highest trusts; and his sovereign used his services almost implicitly.

As this eminent person was a friend to the reformation, he encouraged of course such churchmen, as were inclined towards it. Among others, Mr. Latimer was one of his favourites; to whom he took all opportunities of shewing his regard: and as Mr. Latimer had at this time no employment in London, his patron very soon obtained a benefice for him.

This benefice was in Wiltshire, whither Mr. Latimer resolved, as soon as possible, to repair, and keep a constant residence. His friend Dr. Butts, surprised at his resolution, did what he could to persuade him from it. "He was deserting, he told him, the fairest appearances of making his fortune. The prime minister, says he, intends this only as an earnest of his future favours; and will certainly in time, do great things for you. But it is the manner of courts to consider those as provided for, who seem to be satisfied: and take my word for it, an absent claimant stands but a poor chance among rivals, who have the advantage of being present." Thus the old courtier advised. But Mr. Latimer was not a man on whom such arguments had any weight. He had no other notion of making his fortune, than that of putting himself in a way of being useful. Great and good, were with him words of the same meaning. And though he knew his friend's advice was well meant, yet he knew at the same time, that a man may as easily be deceived by the kindness of his friend, as by the guile of his enemy. Besides, he was heartily tired of a court. He had yet seen little of the world; and was shocked to be introduced at once to a place, where he saw vice in every shape triumphant: where factions raged: where all the arts of malice were practised; where vanity and folly prevailed, debauchery of manners, dissimulation, and irreligion: where he not only saw these things, but what most grieved him, where he found himself utterly unable to oppose them: for he had neither authority, nor, as he thought, talents, to reclaim the great. He left the court therefore, and entered immediately upon the duties of his parish; hoping to be of some use in the world, by faithfully exerting, in a private station, such abilities as God had given him.

His behaviour was suitable to his resolutions. He thoroughly considered the office of a clergyman; and discharged it in the most conscientious manner. Nor was he satisfied with discharging it in his own parish, but extended his labours throughout the county, where he observed the pastoral care most neglected; having for this purpose obtained a general licence from the university of Cambridge.

His preaching, which was in a strain wholly different from the preaching of the times, soon made him acceptable to the people; among whom, in a little time, he established himself in great credit. He was treated likewise very civilly by the neighbouring gentry; and at Bristol, where he often preached, he was countenanced by the magistrates.

The reputation he was thus daily gaining, presently alarmed the orthodox clergy in those parts. Their opposition to him appeared first on this occasion: the mayor of Bristol had appointed him to preach there on an Easter-sunday. Public notice had been given, and all people were pleased: when suddenly, there came out an order from the bishop of Bristol, prohibiting any one to preach there without his licence. The clergy of the place waited upon Mr. Latimer, informed him of the bishop's order, and, knowing that he had no such licence, "were extremely sorry that they were by that means deprived of the pleasure of hearing an excellent discourse from him." Mr. Latimer received their civility with a smile; for he had been apprized of the affair, and well knew, that these were the very persons who had written to the bishop against him.

Their opposition to him became afterwards more public. Some of them ascended the pulpit in their zeal, and inveighed against him there with great indecency of language. Of these the most forward was one Hubberdin, an empty, impudent fellow, who could say nothing of his own, but any thing that was put into his mouth. Through this instrument, and others of the same kind, such liberties were taken with Mr. Latimer's character, that he thought it proper at length to justify himself; and accordingly called upon his maligners to accuse him publicly before the mayor of Bristol. And with all men of candour he was justified; for when that magistrate convened both parties, and put the accusers upon producing legal proof of what they had said, nothing of that kind appeared; but the whole accusation was left to rest upon the uncertain evidence of some hear-say information.

His enemies, however, were not thus silenced. The party against him became daily stronger and more inflamed. It consisted in general of the country priests of those parts, headed by some divines of more eminence.

These person, after mature deliberation, drew up articles against him, extracted chiefly from his sermons; in which he was charged with speaking lightly of the worship of saints; with saying, that there was no material fire in hell; and that he would rather be in purgatory, than in Lollard's tower. These articles, in the form of an accusation, were laid before stokesley bishop of London. This prelate immediately cited Mr. Latimer to appear before him. But Mr. Latimer, instead of obeying the citation, appealed to his own ordinary; thinking himself wholly exempt from the jurisdiction of any other boshop. Stokesley, upon this, making a private cause of it, was determined at any rate to get him in his power. He applied therefore to archbishop Warham, whose zeal was nearly of a temper with his own malice. The archbishop, being easily persuaded, cited Mr. Latimer to appear forthwith in his own court; where the bishop of London, and some other bishops were commissioned to examine him. An archiepiscopal citation brought Mr. Latimer at once to a compliance. His friends would have had him leave the country; but their persuasions were in vain. Before he set out for London, he wrote the following letter to a friend.

"I marvel not a little, that my lord of London, having so large a diocese committed to his care, and so peopled as it is, can have leisure either to trouble me, or to trouble himself with me, so poor a wretch, a stranger to him, and nothing pertaining to his cure. Methinks it were more comely for my lord, if it were comely for me to say so, to be a preacher himself, than to he a disquieter of preachers. If it would please his lordship to take so great labour and pain, as to come and preach in my little bishopric at Westkington, whether I were present or absent, I would thank his lordship heartily for helping to discharge me in my cure, as long as his predication was fruitful, and to the edification of my parishioners. But he may do as he pleaseth: I pray God he may do as well as I would wish him to do: and as to my preaching, I trust in God, my lord of London cannot justly reprove it, if it be taken as I spake it; else it is not my preaching.

Quem recitas meus est, ô Fidentine libellus;

Sed male cum recitas, incipit esse tuus.

Either my lord of London will judge mine outward man, or mine inward man. If he will have to do only with mine outward man, how I have ordered my life, I trust I shall please both my Lord God, and also my lord of London; for I have taught but according to the scriptures, and the antient interpreters of scriptures; and with all diligence moved my auditors to faith and charity; and as for voluntary things, I reproved the abuse, without condemning the things themselves. But if my lord will needs invade my inward man, and break violently into my heart, I fear then, indeed, I may displease my lord of London. Finally; as you say, the matter is weighty, even as weighty as my life is worth, and ought to be well looked to; how to look well to it I know not, otherwise than to pray to my Lord God night and day, that as he hath boldened me to preach his truth, so he will strengthen me to suffer for it. And I trust that God will help me; which trust, if I had not, the ocean sea should have divided my lord of London and me by this time."

In this christian temper Mr. Latimer set out for London. It was in the depth of winter, and he was at this time labouring under a severe fit, both of the stone and cholic. These things were hard upon him; but what most distressed him was, the thought of leaving his parish so exposed, where the popish clergy would not fail to undo, in his absence, what he had hitherto done.

When he arrived in London, he found a court of bishops and canonists assembled to receive him; where, instead of being examined, as he expected, about his sermons, the following paper was offered to him, which he was ordered to subscribe.

"I believe, that there is a purgatory to purge the souls of the dead after this life—that the souls in purgatory are holpen with the masses, prayers, and alms of the living—that the saints do pray as mediators for us in heaven — that it is profitable for christians to call upon the saints, that they may pray as mediators for as unto God — that pilgrimages and oblations done to the sepulchres and reliques of saints, are meritorious — that they which have vowed perpetual chastity, may not break their vow, without the dispensation of the pope — that the keys of binding and loosing delivered to Peter, do still remain with the bishops of Rome his successors, although they live wickedly; and are by no means; nor at any time committed to laymen — that men may merit at God's hand by fasting, prayer, and other works or piety — that they which are forbidden of the bishop to preach, as suspected persons, ought to cease until they have purged themselves before the said bishop —that the fast which is used in Lent, and other fasts prescribed by the canons are to be observed —that God, in every one of the seven sacraments, giveth grace to a man rightly receiving the same—that consecrations, sanctifyings, and blessings, by custom received into the church, are profitable—that it is laudable and profitable that the venerable images of the crucifix, and other saints, should be had in the church as a remembrance, and to the honour and worship of Jesus Christ, and his saints—that it is laudable and profitable to deck and clothe those images, and to set up burning lights before them, to the honour of the said saints."

This paper being offered to Mr. Latimer, he read it over, and returned it again, refusing to sign it. The archbishop, with a frown, begged he would consider what he did. "We intend not, says he, Mr. Latimer, to be hard upon you: we dismiss you for the present: take a copy of the articles; examine them carefully; and God grant, that at our next meeting, we may find each other in better temper."

At the next meeting, and at several succeeding ones, the same scene was acted over again: both sides continued inflexible.

The bishops, however, being determined, if possible, to make him comply, began to treat him with more severity. Of one of these examinations he gives us the following account.

"I was brought one, says he, to be examined in a chamber, where I was wont to be examined; but at this time it was somewhat altered. For whereas before there wae a fire in the chimney now the five was taken away, and an arras hanged over the chimney; and the table stood near the chimney's end. There was among these bishops that examined me, one with whom I have been very familiar, and whom I took for my great friend, an aged man, and he sat next the table-end. Then among other questons he put forth one, a very subtil and crafty one; and when I should make answer," "I pray you, Mr. Latimer, said he, speak out, I am very thick of hearing, and here be many that sit far off." "I marvelled at this, that I was bidden to speak out, and began to misdeem and gave an ear to the chimney; and there I heard a pen plainly scratching behind the cloth. They had appointed one there to write all my answers, that I should not start from them. God was my good Lord, and gave me answers, I could never else have escaped them."

Thus the bishops continued to distress Mr. Latimer; three times every week they regularly sent for him, with a view either to elicit something from him by captious questions; or to teaze him at length into a compliance.

And indeed, at length, he was tired out. His spirit could no longer bear the usage he met with. Accordingly, when he was next summoned, instead of going himself, he sent a letter to the archbishop, in which, with great freedom, he tells him, "That the treatment he had of late met with, had fretted him into such a disorder, as rendered him unfit to attend them that day — that in the mean time, he could not help taking this opportunity to expostulate with his grace, for detaining him so long from the discharge of his duty—that it seemed to him most unaccountable, that they, who never preached themselves, should hinder others—that as for their examination of him, he really could not imagine what they aimed at; they pretended one thing in the beginning, and another in the progress—that if his sermons were what gave offence, which he persuaded himself were neither contrary to the truth, nor to any canon of the church, he was ready to answer whatever might be thought exceptionable in them—that he wished a little more regard might be had to the judgment of the people; and that a distinction might be made between the ordinances of God and man — that if some abuses in religion did prevail (as was then commonly supposed) he thought preaching was the best means to discountenance them—that he wished all pastors might be obliged to perform their duty; but that, however, liberty might be given to those who were willing—that as for the articles proposed to him, he begged to be excused from subscribing them; while he lived he never would abet superstition—and that, lastly, he hoped the archbishop would excuse what he had written—he knew his duty to his superiors, and would practise it; but in that case, he thought a stronger obligation laid upon him."

What particular effect this letter produced, we are not informed; the bishops however still continued their persecution. But by an unexpected accident their schemes were suddenly frustrated. The king being informed of the ill usage Mr. Latimer met with, most probably by the lord Cromwell's means, interposed in his behalf, and rescued him out of the hands of his enemies. Mr. Fox leaves it in doubt, whether he was not at length prevailed upon to subscribe the bishops articles: but I think it past dispute that he did not: for if he had, what occasion had the king to interpose?

The unfortunate Ann Boleyn was at that time the favourite wife of Henry. She had imbibed from her youth the principles of the reformation, and continued still inclined to it. Whether she had been acquainted with Mr. Latimer before she met with him now at court, does not appear: she was extremely taken however with his simplicity, and apostolic appearance; and mentioned him to her friends as a person, in her opinion, as well qualified as any she had seen to forward the reformation. One of her friends, and as much her favourite as any, was the lord Cromwell, who failed not, with his usual address, to raise Mr. Latimer still higher in her esteem. In short, the queen and the minister agreed in thinking, that he was a man endowed with too many public virtues to be suffered to live obscure in a private station; and joined in an earnest recommendation of him to the king for a bishopric. Such suiters would have carried an harder point: nor indeed did the king want much solicitation in his favour.

It happened that the sees of Worcester and Salisbury were at that time vacant by the deprivation of Ghinuccii, and Campegio, two Italian bishops, who fell under the king's displeasure upon his rupture with Rome. The former of these was offered to Mr. Latimer. As he had been at no pains to procure this promotion, he looked upon it as the work of providence, and accepted it without much persuasion. Indeed he had met with so very rough a check already as a private clergyman, and saw before him so hazardous a prospect in his old station, that he thought it necessary both for his own safety, and for the sake of being of more service in the world, to shroud himself under a little temporal power.

How he discharged his new office may easily be imagined. An honest conscience, which was his rule of conduct in one station, might be supposed such in another. But we are not left to conjecture. All the historians of these times, mention him as a person remarkably zealous in the discharge of his duty. In overlooking the clergy of his diocese, which he thought the chief branch of the episcopal office, exciting in them a zeal for religion, and obliging them at least to a legal performance of their duty, he was uncommonly active, warm, and resolute. With the same spirit he presided over his ecclesiastical court; and either rooted out such crimes as were there cognizable, or prevented their becoming exemplary, by forcing them into corners. In visiting he was frequent and observant; in ordaining strict and wary; in preaching indefatigable; in reproving and exhorting severe and persuasive.

Thus far he could act with authority: but in other things he found himself under difficulties. The ceremonies of the popish worship gave him great offence; and he neither durst, in times so dangerous and unsettled, lay them intirely aside; nor, on the other hand, was he willing intirely to retain them. In this dilemma his address was admirable. He inquired into their origin; and when he found any of them, as some of them were, derived from a good meaning, he took care to inculcate the original meaning, though itself a corruption, in the room of a more corrupt practice. Thus he put the people in mind, when holy bread and water were distributed, that these elements which had long been thought endowed with a kind of magical influence, were nothing more than appendages to the two sacraments of the Lord's supper, and baptism: the former, he said, reminded us of Christ's death, and the latter was only a simple representation of our being purified from sin. By thus reducing popery to its principles, he improved in some measure a bad stock, by lopping from it a few fruitless excrescences.

SECTION V.

WHILE his endeavours to reform were thus confined within his own diocese, he was called upon to exert them in a more public manner; having received a summons to attend the parliament and convocation.

This session, which was in the year 1536, was thought a crisis by the protestant party. The renunciation of the pope's authority was a great step: a free inquiry into principles and practices, it was hoped, would follow; and a thorough reformation could not then, it was thought, be at a great distance.

On the other hand, the papists well knew the king's attachment to popery: and though they never imagined they should be able to close up the breach, they were sanguine enough to believe they could easily prevent its widening farther.

These opposite hopes animated two powerful parties; and indeed it is hard to say, whether the papists or the protestants, during this reign, had the greater influence. Henry was governed intirely by his passions; and to these sometimes one minister, and sometimes another made the most dextrous address.

At the head of the protestant party, was first, the lord Cromwell, whose favour with the king was now in its meridian; and who was the soul of every thing that was done.

Next to him in power, was Cranmer archbishop of Canterbury; to which dignity he had been promoted upon the death of Warham, for his services in the matter of the divorce. He was a sincere promoter of reformation, and had abilities admirably adapted to such a work. He was a calm, dispassionate man; had a sound judgment, and a very extensive knowledge: but he had conversed little in the world; was very open to the attacks of malice and knavery, and was unacquainted with any methods but those of gentleness and persuasion, which indeed went a considerable way to promote his ends.

After him the bishop of Worcester was the most considerable man of the party; to whom were added the bishops of Ely, Rochester, Hereford, Salisbury, and St. David's.

On the other hand, the popish party was headed by Lee, archbishop of York, Gardiner, Stokesly, and Tunstal, bishops of Winchester, London, and Durham.

Lee was considerable chiefly on account of the eminency of his station: Gardiner had the acutest parts, Stokesley the most zeal, and Tunstal the best heart. But they were all a kind of court-barometers, and discerning men could judge of the temper of the times by their elevations and depressions: yet Gardiner was a most dextrous whisperer, when he could get privately to his sovereign's ear; to which he had but too frequent access: though his abilities had not yet that scope, which succeeding times allowed them.

These persons, thus disposed, now met together in convocation. Their meeting was opened, in the usual form, by a sermon, or rather an oration, spoken by the bishop of Worcester, whose eloquence was at this time every where famous. This task was assigned him by the archbishop of Canterbury; who knew no man so well qualified to lay before the clergy the corruptions of their order; and to rouze them, if possible, into a sense of their duty. What he said, was to this effect.

"We are met together, it seems, here, brethren, to consult the settlement of religion. A very important trust is committed to us; and I hope each of us hath brought with him a resolution to discharge it properly. And, indeed, great need is there that something should be done. Superstition hath had a long reign amongst us; nor can I yet believe its tyranny at an end, while I see our clergy still immersed in the corruptions of their fore-fathers; while I see even mitred advocates, it becomes me to speak plainly, still espousing this cause. What an inundation of folly, to give it the lightest appellation, is daily flowing from our pulpits? Is there an absurdity in the whole popish creed, is there a corruption in their whole ritual, which is not countenanced, even at this very day amongst us? Purgatory is still believed; images are still worshipped. And what is most grievous, when external observances abound, men begin to lay a stress upon them; and of course the necessity of a good life is superceded.—Rouze yourselves, my brethren, rouze yourselves at these things. Consider that an amendment of all these evils is looked for at our hands. If the priest is remiss, what can be expected from the people? Imagine you hear, at the last day, the almighty Judge thus rebuking us. "A cry against you cometh up into my ears; a cry against your avarice, your exactions, your tyranny. I commanded you with industry and pains-taking to feed my sheep: instead of which you do nothing but gluttonize from day to day, wallowing in indolence and pleasure. I commanded you to preach my commandments, and seek my glory: instead of which, you preach your own phantasies, and seek your own profit. I commanded that all people should diligently search my word: instead of which, it is your care to shut up the books of knowledge—Too much reason have you to fear, that reading the people may understand, and understanding they may learn to rebuke your slothfulness.

Since then, my brethren, the corruptions of the clergy are so manifest: and since so strict an account will be demanded of our conduct, let us at this time do something to shew that we have the interest of religion at heart. Let us do something to wipe off prejudices, which I know have been conceived against some of us without-doors. And as our stations in life add a dignity to our characters, so let them inspire us with holiness, and a zeal for the salvation of souls, in which alone consists the real dignity of a christian bishop. All men know that we are here assembled, and with ardent looks expect the fruit of our consultation: Oh! my brethren, let us not disappoint their hopes.

Lift up your heads therefore, my lords, look round, and examine what things want reformation in the church of England. Is it so hard a matter to find out corruption and abuses among us? What is done in the arches? Is there nothing there, that wants amendment? Is business speedily dispatched? Or are suiters intangled in forms, disappointed, vexed, and rifled? Or if all things be well there, what think you of the bishops consistories? Is vice sought out and corrected? or is it made a shameful handle for bribery and extortion?

What think you, my brethren, of the ceremonies of the church? Are they simple and significant? Or are they rather calculated to offend weak consciences, and to encourage superstition among the vulgar?

Do you see nothing amiss in that multiplicity of holidays, with which our calendar abounds? Is true religion, think you, more promoted by them; or idleness and debauchery?

What think you of images and relics, to which so many painful pilgrimages are made from every corner of the kingdom? Do you observe no priest-craft in these things, no gainful frauds, no profitable impositions?

What think you of our liturgy? Is it unexceptionable in all its parts? or, if it was, is it defensible by scripture that the offices of the church should be performed in an unknown tongue?

Lastly, my brethren, what think you of masses, and of that beneficial commerce in this commodity, which has been carried on for so many years?

Consider these things, I beg of you, my lords, and if there be nothing to be corrected abroad, let each of us make one better. If there be nothing either abroad or at home that wants amendment, be chearful, my lords, and merry; and as we have nothing else to do, let us at least reason the matter how we may grow richer: let us fall to some pleasant conversation, and then go home with a full resolution to live merrily here, for we have nothing to expect hereafter. Let us not say with St. Peter, "Our end approacheth:" this is a melancholy note. But let us say with the evil servant, "My Lord delayeth his coming; and let us begin to beat our fellows, and eat and drink with the drunken." And what can be interpreted beating our fellows, if not allowing their corruptions? What can be interpreted eating and drinking with the drunken, if not spending our lives in indolence and pleasure? But God will come on a day, when we look not for him; and in an hour, when we are not aware. He will call us to a severe account, and all our worldly policy will end in despair.

Let us then, my brethren, in time be wise: let us be wise, if not for others, at least for ourselves. Let us wean our hearts from worldly things. Let us divest ourselves of each self-interested thought; and let every man in this assembly resolve to aim at nothing in his counsels, but the glory of God, and the happiness of man."

With such language did the good bishop endeavour to work upon the assembly. But his speech rather shewed the goodness of his own heart, than wrought any change in the counsels of his audience. For eloquence hath seldom influence but in questions of sudden determination.

The forms of their meeting were scarce settled, when the two parties began to attack each other with great bitterness. The papist was the aggressor. In the lower house a bill was drawn up, the result of much secret caballing, which contained a catalogue of sixty seven heretical opinions. Many of these were the tenets of Wicliffe: the rest, of modern reformers. This bill was sent up into the higher house, where it met with many zealous advocates. Here it was agitated with animosity enough on both sides; each party resolving in the first contest, to make the other acquainted with its full strength.

In the midst of the debate which had now lasted many days, each day growing warmer than the last, the lord Cromwell entered the house, and addressing himself to the popish bishops, required them in the king's name, to put an end to their opposition. This message instantly quenched the flame, and gave the reformers the first intimation of the king's good intentions towards them.

Among other foreign protestants who were at this time entertained by the archbishop of Canterbury, there was a very ingenious Scotsman, whose name was Alesse; a person, who had made himself very acceptable to the archbishop by his learning, and solid judgment; and who was at all times, without any reserve, consulted by the heads of the protestant party.

This learned man, Cromwell brought with him to the convocation-house, where he spoke largely against the sacraments of the Roman church, and proved that two only were of gospel institution. This speech produced a warm debate, and of long continuance, which was managed by the bishops of York and London, on the part of the papists; and of Canterbury and Hereford on that of the protestants; the latter retorting many things with great freedom against tradition and monkery, and the ignorance of the popish clergy.

The result was, that four sacraments out of the seven were concluded to be insignificant.

But as the bishop of Worcester did not distinguish himself in the debates of this convocation, for debating was not his talent, it is beside my purpose to enter into a detail of the several transactions of it. I shall only add, that an animated attempt was at this time made to get him and Cranmer stigmatized by some public censure: but through their own and Cromwell's interest, they were too well established to fear any open attack from their enemies.

For the rest of what was now done, let it suffice to say, that no very hasty steps were taken in favour of reformation: the cool heads, which managed that revolution, thought it sufficient at this time to accustom the people to see religious matters brought into question; and judged it more prudent, to loosen prejudices by degrees, than to attempt, in a violent manner, to root them up.

When it was imagined, that these alterations were tolerably digested, others, and these still more subversive of popery, were, the same year, published in the king's name; the first act of pure supremacy, which this prince attempted. The articles, which contained these alterations, were drawn up, as is generally supposed, by the archbishop of Canterbury; and if so, it is more than probable, that bishop Latimer had a hand in them. They were levelled chiefly against relics, images, pilgrimages, and superfluous holy-days.

In a few months after this, a still more considerable advance was made. The Bible was translated into English, and recommended to a general perusal: the people were ordered to be instructed in the principles of religion in their mother-tongue; and the invocation of saints was left as a thing indifferent.

Thus reformation was daily gaining ground. The more glaring parts of the Romish superstition were now abolished: a way was opened for free inquiry: men ventured to harbour doubts and suspicions; and it was thought rational to bring the doctrines of the church to the test of reason.

As for the papists, they gave up every thing for lost. They had made their last effort by exciting the people to rebellion: exclaiming loudly against the dissolution of monasteries; which was indeed the most unpopular act of those times. But the flames which they had blown up, were now every where dying away; the country enriched with the spoils of the priests, grew plentiful and satisfied; and men began to view the venerable ruins of an abbey, only as they contributed to enliven a landscape.

In the mean while the bishop of Worcester, highly satisfied with the prospect of the times, repaired to his diocese; having made no longer stay in London than was absolutely necessary. He had no talents, and he knew that he had none, for state-affairs; and therefore he meddled not with them. The settlement of religion could not, he assured himself, be in abler hands, than in those of the lord Cromwell: and while it was so, he wisely judged it would be thought presumption in him, who could not be supposed to know what men and times would bear, to concern himself with it. His talents were those of a private station; and within that he was determined to confine them. If he behaved in his diocese like a true christian bishop, and did all in his power to root out superstition, and encourage the practice of piety and virtue, he was satisfied in his conscience, that he did all towards the settlement of religion that could be expected from him. I make these remarks the rather, because bishop Burnet speaks in a very slight manner of his public character at this time; whereas it is certain, that he never desired to appear in any public character at all. His whole ambition was, to discharge the pastoral functions of a bishop, neither aiming to display the abilities of the statesman, nor those of the courtier. How very unqualified he was to support the latter of these characters, will sufficiently appear from the following story.

It was the custom in those days for the bishops, upon the coming in of the new year, to make presents to the king: and many of them would present very liberally; proportioning their gifts to their expectances. Among the rest, the bishop of Worcester, being at this time in town, waited upon the king with his offering: but, instead of a purse of gold, which was the common oblation, he presented a New Testament, with a leaf doubled down, in a very conspicuous manner, to this passage, "Whoremongers and adulterers, God will judge."

The bishop of Worcester being again settled in his diocese, went on, with his usual application, in the discharge of his duty. But I meet with no particulars of his behaviour at this time, except only in one instance.

A gentleman of Warwickshire, in a purchase, had done some hard things to a poor man in his neighbourhood: yet he had kept within the limits of the law; taking the advantage of some unguarded expression in a statute; having a brother, a justice of peace, and enough acquainted with the law to do mischief, who had negotiated the affair for him. As these two brothers were men of great fortune in the country, and over-awed the neighbouring gentlemen, the poor man had nothing to do, but to sit quietly under his oppression. But while he was reconciling himself to what had happened, some of his friends put him upon applying, in the way of a complaint, to the bishop of Worcester; whose character, as the common patron of the poor and oppressed, was every where much spoken of. The poor man approved the advice, and taking a journey to the bishop, acquainted him with the whole affair. The bishop heard his story, pitied his case, and sent him home, with a promise of his protection. Accordingly, he soon after wrote to the justice, who had been the chief agent in the affair, and endeavoured by proper arguments to raise in him a sense of the injury he had been guilty of: speaking his mind very freely both of him, and his brother, yet treating them at the same time with proper civility. The two gentlemen were greatly incensed at this letter; and answered it in the spirit of detected guilt: "They had done only what was right, and would abide by it: that as for the sufferer, the law was open; and as for him, they could not but think he interfered very impertinently in an affair, which did not concern him." But in the bishop of Worcester they had not to do with a person, who was easily shaken from an honest purpose. He acquainted them in few words, "That if the cause of his complaint was not forthwith removed, he certainly would himself lay the whole affair before the king." And he had been, without doubt, as good as his word; but his adversaries did not care to put him to a trial.

Having now been about two years resident in his diocese, he was called up again to town in the year 1539, to attend the business of parliament: a parliament, which was productive of great events.— But as a new spirit, had now infused itself into the counsels of those times, it will be necessary to trace it, from its first efforts, into those violent workings, and agitations, which it soon produced.

SECTION VI.

KING Henry VIII. made as little use of a good judgment, as any man ever did. He had no fixed principles; his whole reign was one continued rotation of violent passions: through the means of which secret springs he was all his life a mere machine in the hands of his ministers; and he among them who could make the most artful address to the passion of the day, carried his point.

Gardiner was just returned from Germany; having successfully negotiated some commissions, which the king had greatly at heart. This introduced him with a good grace at court: where observing, with his usual sagacity, the temper and situation of men and things; and finding that room was left him to do mischief by the death of the queen, who exceedingly favoured the protestant interest, he collected every art he was master of; and with the subtilty of a bad spirit, beset the king, hoping, in some weak part, to infuse his malice under the semblance of state-policy.

It was imagined by many at that time, and hath since that time been confirmed by circumstances, which came out afterwards, that Gardiner had begun thus early to entertain very ambitious designs, that he had been in treaty with the pope, and that for expected favours, he was under secret engagements with him to introduce popery again into England.

With this view, therefore, he took frequent occasions to alarm the king with apprehensions of foreign and domestic danger. He would dwell upon the intrigues of the court of Rome, the power of the Emperor, the watchfulness of the Scots to take every advantage; and above all, the seditious spirit of his own subjects. He would then insinuate, that something should be done in opposition to these threathing dangers: and that, for his part, he knew nothing that could be more effectual, than for his majesty to shew a zeal for the old religion. That, as for his throwing off the papal yoke, he said, it was a noble effort of his magnanimity; and was esteemed such by all sober men, for the tyranny of the court of Rome was become intolerable. The suppression of monasteries was likewise, in his opinion, wholly justifiable; and his majesty well knew, that none of his counsellors had been more sanguine in that affair, than himself: but then he thought it was the part of wisdom to consider these things only in a political light; and for himself, he could not but greatly apprehend the bad consequences of making any alterations in the established religion. At least, he would advise his majesty to stop where he was, and by some vigorous act to shew the world, that he was not that patron of novel opinions, which he was generally esteemed. By this means, he would make those only his enemies, who were blind devotees to the papal power; and these were not one fourth part of Christendom.

By such infusions as these, which he knew very well how to dress into the form of arguments, and could render plausible by an artful display of the situation of Europe, and by shewing how the interests of courts and factions coincided intirely with his schemes, the wily prelate so wrought upon the fears, the ambition, or vanity of the king, for he could shew his argument in all lights, that by degrees he drew attention, and at length made such an impression, as he thought would serve his purpose. Having gone thus far, he next began to propose expedients; and as the king was about to call a parliament at this time, to confirm and finish what he had done with relation to monasteries, he persuaded him to take this opportunity of doing something in the business he had counselled. In the mean time, nothing of these designs transpired; at least, so little, that the opposite party could make no use of their intelligence; for of all the wicked ministers that have infested the councils of princes, perhaps none was ever more deep and secret, than the bishop of Winchester.—This was the state of affairs, when the bishop of Worcester was called up to London, to attend the business of parliament.

Soon after his arrival in town, he was accused before the king of preaching a seditious sermon. The sermon was preached at court; and the preacher, according to his custom, had been unquestionably severe enough against whatever he observed amiss. His accuser, who is said to have been a person of great eminence about the king, was most probably the bishop of Winchester: for this prelate was known to make use of what arts he could to remove all those from the national councils of those times who were most likely to thwart his measures. The king had called together several of the bishops with a view to consult them upon some points of religion. When they had all given their opinions, and were about to be dismissed, the bishop of Winchester, if it was he, kneeled down before the king, and accused the bishop of Worcester in the above-mentioned manner, shewing how his sermon, which he called a libel against the king and his ministers, tended to alienate the people from their prince. The bishop being called upon by the king, with some sternness, to vindicate himself, was so far from denying, or even palliating what he had said, that he boldly justified it; and turning to the king with that noble unconcern which a good conscience inspires, made this answer, "I never thought myself worthy, nor I never sued to be a preacher before your grace; but I was called to it, and would be willing, if you mislike me, to give place to my betters: for I grant there be a great many more worthy of the room than I am. And if it be your grace's pleasure to allow them for preachers, I could be content to bear their books after them. But if your grace allow me for a preacher, I would desire you to give me leave to discharge my conscience, and to frame my doctrine according to my audience. I had been a very dolt indeed, to have preached so at the borders of your realm, as I preach before your grace." The greatness of this answer baffled his accusers malice; the severity of the king's countenance changed into a gracious smile; and the bishop was dismissed with that obliging freedom, which this monarch never used, but to those whom he esteemed.

The parliament, which had been summoned to meet on the 28th of april, having now sat a week, and being ready to enter upon business the lord chancellor, on the 5th of may, informed the lords from the king, that "his majesty had, with extreme uneasiness, observed the distracted condition of his subjects with regard to religion; that he had nothing so much at heart, as to establish an uniformity of opinion amongst them; and that he therefore desired the lords would immediately appoint a committee to examine the several opinions that prevailed, and to fix upon certain articles for a general agreement." It was the manner, it seems, of those times, to use no ceremony in fixing a standard for men to think by; and to vary that standard with as little ceremony, as new modes of thinking prevailed. The parliament, therefore, without any difficulty, complied; and named for a committee, the lord Cromwell, the two archbishops, and the bishops of Worcester, Ely, Durham, Bath and Wells, Carlisle, and Bangor.

Men of so opposite a way of thinking, were not likely to agree. After eleven days therefore spent, in warm debates, nothing was concluded. This was no more than was expected, and made room for the farce which followed.

On the twelfth day, the duke of Norfolk, according to the plan, which had been without doubt laid down, acquainted the lords, that "he found the committee had yet done nothing; that eleven days had been already spent in wrangling, and that he saw no possibility of coming to an agreement in that way. He begged leave, therefore, to offer to their lordships consideration, some articles which he himself had drawm up, and which he desired might be examined by a committee of the whole house." He then read the articles, which were these.

1. That in the sacrament of the altar, after the consecration, there remained no substance of bread and wine, but the natural body and blood of Christ.

2. That vows of chastity ought to be observed.

3. That the use of private masses should be continued.

4. That communion in both kinds was not necessary.

5. That priests might not marry.

6. That auricular confession should be retained in the church.

The first of these articles was against the sacramentaries, as they were called, who denied transubstantiation. The second was designed to keep the ejected clergy dependent on the pope; for Gardiner could not hope at this time to establish them. The rest were opinions of the greatest weight in popery.

The protestant party began now plainly enough to see a concerted scheme; and could trace it, without much difficulty, to its source. They resolved, however to collect what strength they were able, and at least, to make one struggle. Each of them, therefore, did the utmost he could. But the noble stand made by the archbishop of Canterbury deserves particularly to be remembered. This prelate disputed, in the military phrase, every inch of ground; and with such force of reason, that if reason had been his adversaries weapon too, he had carried his point.

Against the first article, indeed, he said nothing; for at that time he held all the opinions of the Lutherans; among which, transubstantiation was one. But against the second, he was extremely earnest. It was very hard, he said, to force religious men from their houses, and not allow them that common intercourse with the world, which the rest of his majesty's subjects enjoyed: that the parliament had already absolved them from their vow of poverty; and he could see no reason why they should be absolved from one vow more than another: besides, he added, that, in his opinion, such a treatment of them was very impolitic; for while they continued in a state of coelibacy, they were still in a capacity, if a fair occasion should offer, to re-enter their monasteries.

Against the third article, which enjoined the use of private masses, he said it was a plain condemnation of the king's proceedings against religious houses: for if masses did benefit departed souls, it was surely an unjustifiable step to destroy so many noble foundations, which were dedicated to that only purpose."

With equal spirit the archbishop opposed the rest of the articles; and like a wise statesman, who knew the temper of the times, drew his arguments, when he could, from policy rather than religion. But all his eloquence was ineffectual: the affair had been resolved on in the cabinet; and the parliament was consulted only for form. The act therefore passed without much opposition; and was guarded with such penalties, as made it indeed justly dreadful.

The act of the six articles, (for so it was named) was no sooner published, than it gave an universal alarm to all the favourers of reformation. The protestants every where cried out, "their prospect of happiness was now over; they could not now expect a toleration: for they plainly saw, that a sword was put into the hands of their enemies to destroy them:" while both papists and protestants joined in exclaiming, that, "it was difficult to say what the king intended: for it was neither safe to be of one profession nor the other: the act of supremacy condemned the papist, and the act of the six articles, the protestant."

The bishop of Worcester was among those who first took offence at these proceedings: and as he could not give his vote for the act, he thought it wrong to hold any office in a church, where such terms of communion were required. He resigned his bishopric therefore, and retired into the country.

It is related of him, that when he came from the parliament house to his lodgings, he threw off his robes, and leaping up, declared to those who stood about him, that, "he thought himself lighter, than ever he found himself before." The story is not unlikely, as it is much in character; a vein of pleasantry and good-humour accompanying the most serious actions of his life.

In the mean time, vigilant emissaries were sent abroad; articles of accusation were gathered up from all parts; and in London only, more than 500 persons, in a very short time, were imprisoned. Cromwell and Cranmer saw with concern the misery of the times, but could not prevent it: they stood alone, and were besides enough engaged in stemming a torrent, which ran strong against themselves. Cromwell, was almost borne down, though his enemies carried on their designs with great secresy. As for Cranmer, more than one open attempt had been made against him; but his sovereign's favour sheltered him: and, indeed, king Henry's care for this excellent prelate, to the end of his reign, is almost the only striking instance we have, either of his steadiness, or his good-nature.

During the heat of this persecution bishop Latimer resided in the country, where he thought of nothing, for the remainder of his days, but a sequestered life. He knew the storm, which was up, could not soon be appeased; and he had no inclination to trust himself in it. But in the midst of his security, an unhappy accident carried him again into the tempestuous weather that was abroad. He received a bruise by the fall of a tree, and the contusion was so dangerous, that he was obliged to seek out for better assistance than could be afforded him by the unskilful surgeons of those parts. With this view, he repaired to London.

Here he found the prospect still more glopmy: the popish party had now triumphed over all their obstacles; and he had the mortification to see his great patron, the lord Cromwell, in the hands of his enemies.

Of all the severe acts of that reign, the dissolution of monasteries gave most offence. The clamours of the expelled religious were still loud and menacing; and these clamours were with great assiduity carried to the ears of the king, where they were represented as the effects of a general seditious spirit, capable of breaking out into any rebellious act. This industry in shewing the king the odiousness of his government was used to blacken Cromwell, who was the chief agent in the suppression of the religious houses; and had indeed been more instrumental than any other man, in laying open the priestcraft, and detecting the impostures of the popish clergy, who were universally incensed against him. The king listened with a cruel attention to these whispers against his minister: and taking the hint, as it should seem, from the Jewish law, he thought it no ill policy to make him the scape-goat of his own offences.

Other causes, no doubt, conspired in the ruin of this great patriot; and historians guess at many: but the truth is, this affair, as well as many others, which were directed by the dark counsels of the bishop of Winchester, are still involved in the same obscurity. It is certain, however, that without even the form of a judicial trial, he was condemned to lose his head.

Thus perished this excellent statesman, than whom a greater man, perhaps, no times have produced. He had a high sense of public good; a noble, disinterested, and generous heart. His parts were equal to any perplexity of government. Nor was his private character inferior to his public. He was pious and charitable in a great degree; humble, patient of injury, and such an example of gratititude as we seldom meet with. His death was such a stain upon the memory of those times, that if there had been no other, it had been enough to mark them with infamy.

Upon Cromwell's fall, the persecution against the protestants broke out in earnest. The duke of Norfolk, and the bishop of Winchester, who were the principal instruments in the rain of the late minister, were now at the head of the popish party: and the authority of the former giving credit to the crafty counsels of the latter, together they had the management of all things in their hands. Under the direction of these zealots, the sword was presently unsheathed; and such a scene of blood was opened, as England had not yet seen.

Mr. Latimer, among others, felt the loss of his great patron. Gardiner's emissaries soon found him out in his concealment, for he was still in London; and something that somebody had somewhere heard him say against the six articles being alledged against him, he was sent to the tower. Into what particulars his accusation was afterwards digested, or whether into any, I meet with no account. It is rather probable, that nothing formal was brought against him; for I do not find he was ever judicially examined. He suffered, however, through one pretence or other, a cruel imprisonment during the remainder of king Henry's reign.

SECTION VII.

IN the spring of the year 1547, king Henry died; and was succeeded by his son Edward VI. This prince came a minor to the crown; and was left, by his father's will, in the hands of sixteen governors. These were at first equal in power, but dividing, as men commonly do in such circumstances, into factions, the earl of Hertford, soon after created duke of Somerset, being the king's uncle, was raised above the rest, with the title of Protector of the kingdom. This revolution was matter of great joy to the protestant party; for the protector was generally known to be a favourer of reformation: He was besides a wise and an honest man; and his want of spirit and resolution was thought to be amply recompenced by his moderation and extreme popularity.

As for the young king, he is extolled in history as a miracle of human nature. But though we make allowances for the exaggerated accounts of protestant writers, whose gratitude may be supposed to have broken out into high strains of encomium, such an assemblage of great and good qualities, will still be left him, as have seldom discovered themselves in so young a person, and much seldomer in one, subject to the temptations of royalty. Among his other virtues, piety was conspicuous. With him the settlement of religion was an end; with his father it had been a mean. And as he had been bred up from his infancy, either among moderate men, or professed protestants, he had imbibed early prejudices in favour of the reformed doctrines. The protector, therefore, found no obstacle in his designs from the young king.

The protestant interest was still farther strengthened by the addition of archbishop Cranmer's counsels; which had now all that weight which the protector's authority could give them.

On the other hand, Gardiner, Tunstal, and Bonner, who was now bishop of London, set themselves at the head of the popish party, and opposed the protector as much as they durst: not indeed openly and directly; for they presently observed the turning of the wind, and had shifted their sails with great nimbleness; but thwarting the means rather than the measures, they opposed him, with that plausible dissimulation, which men, dextrous in business, can easily assume. Their common language was, that, "however necessary these alterations were, they were certainly at this time highly improper — that a minority was not a season for innovations—that it was enough to keep things quiet, till the king came of age, and that abuses might then be inquired into, and remedies applied, with all that authority, which the full regal power could give."

Their opposition, however, had little effect; and many changes in religion were projected, and some carried into execution, with as much dispatch as affairs of such importance would admit. The act of the six articles was repealed, images were removed out of churches; the liturgy was amended; and all ministers were confined to their parish-churches. This last was an excellent means to prevent the spreading both of popery and sedition: while special licences were granted to approved men to preach where they pleased. And what recommended these changes to sober men of all distinctions, was, the great moderation, and spirit of candour which accompanied them throughout. Two acts of blood indeed stand upon record: almost shameful and indelible stain upon the annals of that administration!

At the close of the last section, we left Mr. Latimer in the tower, where he had now lived above six years, in the constant practice of every christian virtue, that becomes a suffering state. Immediately, upon the change of the government, he, and all others who were imprisoned in the same cause, were set at liberty: and bishop Latimer, whose old friends were now in power, was received by them, with every mark of affection.

Heath, who had succeeded him in the bishopric of Worcester, observing his credit at court, and fearing lest it should be thought proper to re-instate him, was in a great dilemma, how to conduct himself. As he was a man of no principle, he had only to observe the temper of the times, and to manage accordingly. But unhappily he was as bad a courtier as a bishop. Making false judgments therefore, and being drawn in by artful men, he applied to the papists, instead of the protestants. His party, and his folly, for he was in every respect an insignificant man, laid him so exceedingly open, that Mr. Latimer would have found no difficulty in dispossessing him. But he had other sentiments: age coming upon him, he thought himself now unequal to the weight of a bishopric, and had no inclination to incumber himself with one. Perhaps too, he might think there was something of hardship and injustice in the case. Whatever were his reasons, it is certain he would make no suit himself, nor suffer his friends to make any, for his restoration.

But the parliament, which was now sitting, having settled every thing of national concern, and applying itself to private business, sent up an address to the protector, begging him to restore Mr. Latimer to the bishopric of Worcester. The protector was very well inclined to gratify the commons, and proposed the resumption of his bishopric to Mr. Latimer, as a point he had very much at heart: but the other persevered in his negative, alledging his great age, and the claim he had from thence to a private life.

The report of the parliament's interposition reaching Heath's ears, terrified him to such a degree, that, taking it for granted his popery had been complained of, be immediately deserted his party, and became an orthodox protestant. And thus shewing a conscientious regard for neither, he became contemptible to both parties.

Mr. Latimer having rid himself intirely of all intreaty on this head, accepted an invitation from his friend archbishop Cranmer, and took up his residence at Lambeth; where he led a very retired life. I call it retired, because he saw little company, and never interfered in public affairs: though he had always as crouded a levee as a minister of state. His chief employment was to hear the complaints, and to redress the injuries of poor people: and his character, for services of this kind, was so universally known, that strangers, from every part of England, would resort to him, vexed either by the delays of public courts and offices, which were surely at that time exceedingly out of order; or harassed by the oppressions of the great. "I cannot go to my book, (says he, giving an account of these avocations) for poor folks that come unto me, desiring that I will speak, that their matters may be heard. Now and then I walk in my lord of Canterbury's garden, looking in my book: but I can do but little good at it; for I am no sooner in the garden, and have read a little while, but by and by cometh some one or other knocking at the gate. Anon, cometh my man, and saith, Sir, there is one at the gate would speak with you. When I come there, then it is some one or other that desireth me that I will speak, that his matter may be heard; or that telleth me he hath lain this long time at great costs and charges, or that he cannot once have his matter come to an hearing."

And sure, no one was better qualified to undertake the office of redressing injuries: for his free reproofs, joined to the integrity of his life, had a great effect upon those in the highest stations; while his own independence, and backwardness in asking any favour for himself, allowed him greater liberty in asking for others.

In these employments he spent more than two years; interfering as little as possible, during that whole time, in any public transaction: though no doubt, if he had pleased, he might have had great weight, at least in ecclesiastical affairs. But besides the distrust he had of his own judgment, he was a man of such exactness in his principles and practice, that he could scarce have made those allowances for men and measures, which prudent counsellors must make in corrupt times; and was backward therefore in drawing upon himself such engagements, as might lead him, more or less, into a deviation from truth. I find him, however, at this time engaged in assisting archbishop Cranmer to compose the homilies, which were set forth by authority, in the first year of king Edward. A useful work this was; intended to supply the want of preaching, which was now at a very low ebb.

The clergy of the old persuasion chose to have themselves considered as a sort of factors, who were to transact the spiritual business of the people: while the people, in the mean time, having paid their agents, had no further concern about their salvation. Thus religion was turned into a trade; and the priests having gotten the monopoly of it, maintained themselves in this monopoly by their preaching, in which they proposed no other end. Church-endowments, private masses, and such gainful topics were insisted on; and these things superseded faith and good morals.

This universal corruption in the priesthood, was a melancholy prospect to all, who wished well to reformation: and it was the more melancholy, as it was an evil which could not in many years admit a cure. What seemed best, however, was to keep the clergy, as much as possible, out of the pulpits; and to this end the book of homilies was composed, and put into the hands of all ministers of parishes, who were injoined by authority to read one every sunday, instead of preaching. In these homilies, the people were shewn the insignificance of outward observances, and were taught to believe that their salvation depended upon themselves.

SECTION VIII.

I Have had frequent occasion to mention Mr. Latimer as a preacher; as indeed he was of the most eloquent and popular of the age, in which he lived; but at this time he appeared in that character in a more advantageous light than he had yet done; having been appointed, during the three first years of king Edward, to preach the lent sermons before the king. The choice of such a preacher was approved by all good men: great irregularities were known to prevail; and Mr. Latimer was acknowledged to be as fit a man as any in the nation to detect and censure them.

The court of king Edward VI, and indeed the whole frame of his government, was in as great disorder as almost any court or any government could be, in the worst of times. The example of the young king was noble and instructive, and would by degrees, no doubt, have had its influence; but as he was now only a boy, and in the hands of others, he had little weight. Nor was the protector a man qualified to curb licentious spirits. He was of an easy nature, and though he wished to see things in order, yet he could contribute little more than a good example to keep them so. As the principal springs were thus weak, it is no wonder if the inferior movements were irregular. A minority was thought the season for every one to make his claim; and such claims were made by all who had any pretensions to court-favours, as equally surprised and scandalized all sober observers. The spoils of an hundred and sixty monasteries, instead of satisfying, had increased the avarice of the courtiers. Having already pruned away all the superfluous parts, and much superfluity there was, from the revenues of the church, they began now to lop off those vital branches, which were necessary for its support. Insomuch, that there was scarce a benefice in the nation of any considerable value, on which some greedy courtier was not pensioned. To this insatiable avarice was added a licentiousness of manners, beyond the example of former times.

A court thus corrupt, produced its necessary consequence, corruption in every order of the state. Never was justice worse administered: never were the dispensers of it more venal. The public offices too were equally corrupt, especially those of the revenue, where most scandalous depredations were made. Nor did the country retain its innocence. Here the gentry practised those arts of avarice and rapine which they had learned at court, and taught the people all those vices, to which indigence gives birth, While the clergy, instead of qualifying in some degree this corrupt mass, by a mixture of piety and devotion, incorporated with it, and even increased its malignity by an addition of as bad, if not of worse ingredients.

This was the state of practical religion in the nation, when Mr. Latimer was called to the office of a court-preacher. As to his sermons, which are still extant, they are far from being exact pieces of composition. Elegant writing was then little known. Some polite scholars there were, Cheek, Ascham, and a few others, who, from an acquaintance with classical learning, of which they were the restorers, began to think in a new manner, and could treat a subject with accuracy at least, if not with elegance. But in general, the writers of that age, and especially the church-men, were equally incorrect in their composition, and slovenly in their language. We must not, therefore, expect that Mr. Latimer's discourses will stand a critical inquiry: they are at best loose, incoherent pieces: yet his simplicity, and low familiarity, his humour, and gibing drollery, were well adapted to the times; and his oratory, according to the mode of eloquence at that day, was exceeding popular. His manner of preaching too was very affecting: and no wonder; for he spoke immediately from his heart.

His abilities, however, as an orator, made only the inferior part of his character as a preacher. What particularly recommends him is, that noble and apostolic zeal, which he exerts in the cause of truth. And sure no one had an higher sense of what became his office; was less influenced by any sinister motive, or durst with more freedom reprove vice, however dignified by worldly distinctions.

It is in this light then, in which I would particularly recommend him; and shall therefore, in the following pages, give the reader some instances, in his own words, of that spirit, with which he lashed the courtly vices of his time.

In his first sermon, which is addressed chiefly to the king, he opens his commission: "The preacher, says he, cannot correct the king, if he be a transgressor, with the temporal sword, but with the spiritual; fearing no man, setting God only before his eyes, under whom he is a minister to root up vice. Let the preacher therefore, never fear to declare the message of God. And if the king will not hear, then let the preacher admonish him, pray for him, and so leave him unto God." He then proceeds to point out to the king his duty, in several instances.

In his second sermon, he lashes the clergy. "It is a marvel, says he, if any mischief be in hand, if a priest be not at one end of it. — I will be a suitor to your grace, to give your bishops charge ere they go home, upon their allegiance to look better to their flock. And if they be found negligent, out with them: I require it in God's behalf, make them quondams, all the pack of them; your majesty hath divers of your chaplains, well learned men, and of good knowledge, to put in their place: and yet you have some that are bad enough, hangers on of the court, I mean not these. But if your majesty's chaplains, and my lord protector's, be not able to furnish their places, there is in this realm, thanks be to God, a great sight of laymen, well-learned in the scriptures, and of a virtuous and godly converstion, better learned than a great sight of us the clergy. This I move of conscience to your grace. And let them not only do the function of bishops, but live of the same: and not, as in many places, that one should have the name, and another the profit. What an enormity is this, for a man to serve in a civility, and have the profit of a provostship, and a deanery, and a parsonage. But I will tell you what is like to come of it: it will bring the clergy shortly into very slavery.—But I fear one thing, that for saving a little money, you will put chantry-priests into benefices. Christ bought souls with his blood; and will you sell them for gold arid silver? I would not have you do with chantry-priests, as was done with abbots. For when their enormities were first read in the parliament, they were so abominable, that there was nothing but, Down with them: but within a while after, the same abbots were made bishops, as there be some of them yet alive, to save their pensions. O Lord! think you that God is a fool, and seeth it not?"

Afterwards, warning the king against flatterers, he tells him that God says, If the king shall do his will, he shall reign long, he and his children. "Wherefore, says he, I would have your grace remember this, and when any of these flatterers, and flibber-gibbers another day shall come, and claw you by the back, and say, Sir, trouble not yourself: what should you study for? why should you do this or that? your grace may answer them thus, What, sirrah? I perceive you are weary of us. Doth not God say in such a place, that a king should fear God, that he may reign long? I perceive now, that thou art a traytor. Tell him this tale once, and I warrant you he will come no more to you."

He then speaks of the delay of justice, and the abuses in the law. "I hear of many matters, says he, before my lord protector, and my lord chancellor, that cannot be heard. I must desire my lord protector's grace to hear me in this matter; and that your grace would likewise hear poor mens suits yourself. Put them to none other to be heard: let them not be delayed. The saying is now, that money is heard every where: if a man be rich, he shall soon have an end of his matter. Others are fain to go home with tears, for any help they can obtain at any judge's hand. Hear mens suits yourself, I require you, in God's behalf; and put them not to the hearing of these velvet-coats, and upskips. Now a man can scarce know them from ancient knights of the country.—A gentlewoman came to me, and told me, that a certain great man keepeth some lands of hers from her; and that in a whole year she could but get one day for the hearing of her matter; and on that day the great man brought on his side, a sight of lawyers for his counsel, and that she had but one man of the law; and the great man so shakes him, that he cannot tell what to do; so that when the matter came to the point, the judge was a mean to the gentlewoman, that she would let the great man have a quietness in her land. I beseech your grace, that you will look to these matters. Hear them yourself. View your judges; and hear poor mens causes. And you, proud judges, hearken what God saith in his holy book: Hear the poor, saith he, as well as the rich. Mark that saying, thou proud judge. The devil will bring this sentence at the day of doom. Hell will be full of such judges, if they repent not and amend. They are worse than the wicked judge, Christ speaketh of: for they will neither hear men for God's sake, nor fear of the world, nor importunity, nor any thing else. Yea, some of them will command them to ward, if they be importunate. I heard say, that when a suitor came to one of them, he said, What fellow is it that giveth these folks counsel to be so importunate? He should be committed to ward. Marry, Sir, commit me then: it is even I that gave them that counsel. And if you amend not, I will cause them to cry out upon you still, even as long as I live."

In this third sermon he lashes the judges again. "Now-a-days, says he, the judges are afraid to hear a poor man against the rich: they will either pronounce against him, or drive off the suit, that he shall not be able to go through with it. But the greatest man in the realm cannot so hurt a judge as a poor widow; such a shrewd turn can she do him. The cries of the poor ascend to heaven, and call down vengeance from God. — Cambises was a great emperor, such another as our master is: he had many lord presidents, lord deputies, and lieutenants under him. It chanced he had under him, in one of his dominions, a briber, a gift-taker, a gratifier of rich men. The cry of a poor widow came to the emperor's ears; upon which be •layed the judge quick, and laid his skin in the chair of judgment; that all judges, that should give judgment afterwards should sit in the same skin. Surely it was a goodly sign, the sign of the judge's skin: I pray God, we may once see the sign of the skin in England."

Before he concludes, he speaks of the progress of the reformation. "It was yet, he said, but a mingle-mangle, and a hotch-potch: I cannot tell what, says he, partly popery, and partly true religion mingled together. They say in my country, when they call their hogs to the swine-trough, Come to thy mingle-mangle, come pur, come. Even so do they make mingle-mangle of the gospel. They can clatter and prate of it, but when all cometh to all, they joined popery so with it, that they marred all together." — In this sermon too he inveighs against debasing the coin, and shews the bad consequences of it. The passage is quoted at length by Mr. Folkes, in his treatise upon English coins.

In his fourth sermon, he again taxes the bishops. "Thou shalt not, says he, addressing himself to the king, be partaker of other mens sins. So saith St. Paul. And what is it to be a partaker of other mens sins, if it be not so, to make unpreaching prelates, and to suffer them to continue still in their unpreaching prelacy. If the king should suffer these things, and look through his fingers, and wink at them, should not the king be a partaker of other mens sins? And why? Is he not supreme head of the church? What? Is the supremacy a dignity, and nothing else? Is it not accountable? I think verily it will be a chargeable dignity, when account shall be asked of it. — If the salt is unsavoury, it is good for nothing. By this salt is understood preachers. And if it is good for nothing, it should be cast out. Out with them then, cast them out of their office. What should they do with cures, that will not look to them?—Oh that a man might have the contemplation of hell; that the devil would allow a man to look into it, and see its state, as he shewed all the world, when he tempted Christ in the wilderness. On yonder side, would the devil say, are punished unpreaching prelates. I think verily a man might see as far as a kenning, as far as from Calais to Dover I warrant you, and see nothing but unpreaching prelates.—As for them, I never look to have their good words as long as I live. Yet will I speak of their wickedness, as long as I shall be permitted to speak. No preacher can pass it over in silence. It is the original root of all mischief. As for me, I owe them no other ill-will, but to pray God to amend them. I would have them do their duty. I owe them no other malice than this, and this is none at all."

In his fifth sermon he again lashes the judges, and patrons of livings. "If a judge, ••ys he, should ask me the way to hell, I •••uld shew him this way: first let him be covetous man; then let him go a little ••rther, and take bribes, and lastly, let him pervert judgment. Lo, here is the mother, and the daughter, and the daughter's daughter 〈◊〉. Avarice is the mother; she brings i• th• bribe-taking, and bribe-taking perverting of judgment. There lacks a fourth thing to make up the mess, which, so God help 〈◊〉, if I were judge, should be a Tyburn tippit. Were it the judge of the king's-bench, my lord chief judge of England, yea, were it my lord chancellor himself, to Tyburn with him.—〈◊〉 one will say, peradventure, you speak un ••••mly so to be against the officers, for taking of rewards: you consider not the matter to the bottom. Their offices be bought for great sums: now how should they receive their money again, but by bribing? you would not have them undone. Some of them give two hundred pounds, some five hundred, some two thousand; and how can they gather up this money again, but by helping themselves in their office?—And is it so, trow ye? Are civil offices bought for money? Lord God! who would have thought it it! Oh! that your grace would seek through your realm for men, meet for offices, yea, and give them liberally for their pains, rather than that they should give money for them. This buying of offices is a making of bribery: for he that buyeth, must needs sell. You should seek out for offices wise men, and men of activity, that have stomachs to do their business; not milk-sops, nor white-livered knights; but fearers of God: for he that feareth God, will be no briber.—But perhaps you will say, we touch no bribes. No, marry; but my mistress, your wife, hath a fine finger; she toucheth it for you; or else you have a servant, who will say, if you will offer my master a yoke of oxen, you will fare never the worse: but I think my master will not take them: When he has offered them to the master, then comes another servant, and says, if you will carry them to the clerk of the kitchen, you will be remembered the better. This is a frierly fashion: they will receive no money in their hands, but will have it put upon their sleeves."

Speaking of venal patrons, he cries but, "O Lord, in what case are we! I marvel the ground gapes not, and devours us. Surely, if they used their religion so in Turkey, the Turk used not to suffer it in his commonwealth. Patrons are charged to see the office done, not to get lucre by his patronship. There was a patron in England, that had a benefice fallen into his hand, and a good brother of mine came unto him, and brought him thirty apples in a dish, which he gave to his man to carry to his master. Having presented them, he said, Sir, such a man hath sent you a dish of fruit, and desireth yon to be good to him for such a benefice. Tush, quoth he, this is no apple matter; I will have hone of his apples: I have as good as these in my own orchard. The man came to the priest again, and told him what his master said. Then, quoth the priest, desire but to prove one of them for my sake: he shall find them better than they look for. Upon this, he cut one of them, and found ten pieces of gold in it. Marry, quoth he, this is a good apple. The priest standing not far off, hearing what the gentleman said, cried out, they all grow on one tree, I warrant you, Sir, and have all one taste. Well, this is a good fellow; let him have the benefice, quoth the patron. Get you but a graft of this tree, and it will serve you in better stead, I warrant you, than all St. Paul's learning. But let patrons take heed; for they shall answer for all the souls that perish through their default; and yet this is taken for a laughing matter.—I desire your majesty to remedy these matters; and see redress in this realm in your own person. Although, my lord protector, I doubt not, and the rest of the council do, in the mean time, all that lieth in their power to redress things."

He begins his sixth sermon with taxing the fashionable vices of the age. He begins with duelling, and exclaims against the remissness of the law in punishing it. "I do not know, says he, what you call chance-medley in the law: the law is not my study. I am a scholar in scripture, in God's book: I study that; and I know what is murder in the sight of God. I fall out with a man; he is angry with me, and I with him; and lacking opportunity and place, we put it off for that time. In the mean season I prepare my weapon, and sharp it against another time. I swell and boil in my mind against my adversary: I seek him; we meddle together; it is my chance, by reason my weapon is better than his, and so forth, to kill him: I give him his death stroke in my vengeance. This I call voluntary murder from scripture: what it is in the law I cannot tell.—A searcher in London, executing his office, displeased a merchant. They had words, and the merchant kills him. They that told me this tale, say, it is winked at: they look through their fingers, and will not see it. Whether it is taken up with a pardon or not, I know not; but this I am sure of, that if you bear with such matters, the devil will bear you away to hell. — O Lord! what whoredom is used now-a-days! It is marvel that the earth gapeth not, and swalloweth us up. God hath suffered long of his great mercy; but he will punish sharply at length, if we do not repent.—There are such dicing-houses also, they say, as have not been wont to be; where young gentlemen dice away their thrift, and where dicing is, there are other follies also. For the love of God let remedy be had. Men of England, in time past, when they would exercise themselves, were wont to go abroad in the fields a shooting. The art of shooting hath been in times past much esteemed in the realm, in which we excel all other nations. In my time, my poor father was as diligent to teach me to shoot, as to learn me any other thing; and so I think other men did their children. He taught me how to, draw, how to lay my body in my bow, and to draw not with strength of arm, as other nations do, but with strength of body. But now we have taken up whoring in towns, instead of shooting in fields. I desire you, my lords, even as you have the honour of God at heart, and intend to remove his indignation, let there be sent forth some proclamation, some sharp proclamation, to the justices of peace; for they do not their duty. Justices now be no justices."—In the following part of his discourses he ridicules an argument for the pope's supremacy, made use of by cardinal Pool, in his book against king Henry. "Jesus cometh, saith he, to Simon's boat: now come the papists, and they will make a mystery of it: they will pick out the supremacy of the bishop of Rome in Peter's boat. We may make allegories enough of every part of scripture; but surely, it must needs be a simple matter, that standeth on so weak a ground. If you ask, why to Simon's boat, rather than to any other? I will answer, as I find by experience in myself, I came hither to-day from Lambeth in a wherry, and when I came to take my boat, the watermen came about me, as the manner is, and he would have me, and he would have me. I took one of them. Now you will ask me, why I came in that boat rather than any other? Why, because it was next me, and stood more commodiously for me. And so did Christ by Simon's boat: it stood nearer to him, or mayhap he saw a better seat in it.—It followeth in the text, that he taught sitting. Preachers, belike, were sitters in those days. I would our preachers would preach either sitting or standing.— The text doth not tell us what he taught. If I were a papist now, I could tell you what he said; as pope Nicholas and bishop Lanfrank did, who tell us that Christ said thus. Peter, I do mean, by thus sitting in thy boat, that thou go to Rome, and be bishop there five and twenty years after mine ascension; and that all thy successors shall be rulers of the universal church after thee.—Well; it followeth in the text, launch out into the deep. Here Peter was made a great man, and all his successors after him, say the papists. And their argument is this, he spake to Peter only, and in the singular number; therefore he gave him pre-eminence above the rest. A goodly argument! I wene it to be a syllogismus. Well; I will make a like argument. Our Saviour Christ said to Judas, when he was about to betray him, What thou dost, do quickly. He spake in the singular number to him; therefore he gave him pre-eminence.—Belike, he made him a cardinal; and it might full well be, for they have followed Judas ever since.

In this sermon, likewise, he again attacks the clergy. "Christ tells us, saith he, it behoved him to preach the gospel, for therefore was he sent. Is it a marvellous thing, that our unpreaching prelates can read this place, and yet preach so little as they do? I marvel that they can go quietly to bed.—The devil hath set up a state of unpreaching prelacy these seven hundred years, and hath made unpreaching prelates. — I heard of a bishop of England, that went on a visitation, and when he should have been rung into the town, as the custom is, the great bell's clapper was fallen down. There was a great matter made of this, and the chief of the parish were much blamed for it in the visitation; and the bishop was somewhat quick with them. They made their answers, and excused themselves as well as they could: it was a chance, they said; and it should be amended as shortly as it might be. Among them there was one wiser than the rest, who comes up to the bishop: "Why, my lord, says he, doth your lordship make so great a matter of the bell that lacketh a clapper? Here is a bell, saith he, and pointed to the pulpit, that hath lacked a clapper these twenty years." I warrant you, this bishop was an unpreaching prelate: he could find fault with the bell that wanted a clapper to ring him into town, but he could find no fault with the parson that preached not at his benefice. — I came once myself to a place, riding on a journey, and sent word over-night into the town, that I would preach there in the morning, because it was a holiday. The church stood in my way, and I took my horse, and rode thither, thinking I should have found a great company at church. When I came there, the church-door was fast locked. I tarried there half an hour and more: at last, one of the parish comes to me, and says, Sir, this is a busy day with us, we cannot hear you: it is Robin Hood's day: the parish are gone abroad to gather for Robin Hood; I pray you hinder them not. And so I was fain to give place to Robin Hood. And all this cometh of unpreaching prelates: if the bishops had been preachers, there should never have been any such thing.—They upbraid the people with ignorance, when they were the cause of it themselves."

He concludes his sermon with an address to the king. "I know no man, saith he, that hath greater labour than the king. What is his labour? To study God's book: to see that there be no unpreaching prelates in his realm, nor bribing judges; to see to all estates; to provide for the poor; to see that victuals are good and cheap. And is not this a labour, trow ye?—Christ teacheth us by his example, that he abhorreth all idleness; when he was a carpenter, he did the work of his calling; and when he was a preacher, he did the work of that calling: he was no unpreaching prelate,"

His seventh sermon was preached upon Good-friday, and is adapted to the day. It affords little opportunity, therefore, of dwelling upon the corruptions of the age. He begins with recapitulating the subjects of his former discourses, "I have intreated, says he, of such matters as I thought fit for this auditory. I have had ado with many estates, even with the highest of all. I have intreated of the duty of kings, of the duty of magistrates, and judges, and of the duty of prelates: and I think there is none of us, neither preacher nor hearer, but may be amended, and redress our lives. We may all say, yea, all the pack of us, we have sinned with our fathers, and done wickedly.—You that be of the court, and especially the sworn chaplains, beware of a lesson, which a great man taught me upon my first coming to court. He told it me for good-will, and thought it well. You must beware, said he, however you do, not to contrary the king: let him have his sayings, and go with him. Marry, out upon this, counsel: shall I say, as he saith? ay your conscience, or else what a worm shall you feel gnawing? what remorse shall you have, when you remember how you have slacked your duty?"

In this sermon he gives his opinion of the fathers. Having found fault with an interpretation, which Origen hath given of a passage of scripture; "These doctors, says he, we have great cause to bless God for; but I would not have them always allowed. They have handled many points of our faith very godly; and we may have a great stay upon them in many things: we might not well lack them. But yet, I would not have men to be sworn to them, and so addict, as to take hand over head whatsoever they say: it were a great inconvenience so to do."

In his last sermon, which he acquaints his audience, shall be the last be will ever preach in that place, he touches upon all the particular corruptions of the age. He begins it thus: "Take heed, and beware of covetousness: take heed and beware of covetousness; take heed and beware of covetousness: take heed and beware of covetousness: and what if I should say nothing else these three or four hours, but these words?— Great complaints there are of it, and much crying out, and much preaching; but little amendment, that I can see—Covetousness is the root of all evil. Then have at the root: out with your swords, ye preachers, and strike at the root. Stand not ticking and toying at the branches, for new branches will spring out again, but strike at the root, and fear not these great men; these men of power; these oppressors of the needy; fear them not, but strike at the root."

In this sermon he addresses himself frequently, and with great freedom to the king. "I come now, says he, rather as a suiter to your majesty, than a preacher: for I come to take my last farewel in this place: and here I will ask a petition. For the love of God take an order for marriages here in England. There is much adultery now-a-days, not only in the nobility, but among the inferior sort. I could wish, therefore, that a law might be provided in this behalf, and that adulterers might be punished with death. If the husband, or wife should become suiter, they might be pardoned the first time, but not the second.—And here I have another suit to your majesty: when you come to age, beware what persons you have about you. For if you be set on pleasure, or disposed to wantonness, you shall have ministers enough to be fartherers and instrumentss of it.—Fear not foreign princes, and foreign powers. God shall make you strong enough: fear him; fear not them. Peradventure you shall have that shall move you, and say unto you; "oh, Sir, such a one is a mighty prince, and a king of great power: you cannot be without his friendship: agree with him in religion, or else you shall have him your enemy." Well; fear them not; cleave to God; and he shall defend you: though you should have that would turn with you, yea, even in their white rochets.—Beware, therefore, of two affections, fear, and love. And I require you, look to your office yourself, and lay not all on the officers backs. Receive bills of supplication yourself. I do not see you do now-a-days, as you were wont to do last year. Poor men put up bills every day, and never the nearer. Begin, therefore, doing of your office yourself, now when you are young; and sit once or twice in the week in council among your lords: it will cause things to have good success, and matters will not be so lingered from day to day."

With equal spirit he taxes the inferior orders of men. "Ye noblemen, says he, I wot not what rule ye keep, but for God's sake, hear the complaints of the poor. Many complain against you, that ye lie in bed till eight, nine, or ten o'clock. I cannot tell what revel ye have over night, whether banqueting, dicing, carding, or how it is: but in the morning, when poor suiters come to your houses, ye cannot be spoke with. They are kept sometimes without your gates; or if they be let into the hall, or some outer chamber, out cometh one or other; Sir, you cannot speak with my lord yet, he is asleep. And thus poor suiters are driven from day to day, that they cannot speak with you. For God's love, look better to it; speak with poor men, when they come to your houses, and dispatch poor suiters. I went one day myself betimes in the morning to a great man's house, to speak with him of business. And methought, I was up betimes: but when I came thither, the great man was gone forth about such affairs as behoved him. Well, thought I, this is well: I like this. This man doth somewhat regard his duty. I came too late for my own matter, and lost my journey; but I was glad to be so beguiled. For God's sake, ye great men, follow this example: rise in the mornings: be ready for suiters that resort to you; and dispatch them out of hand.—In the city of Corinth, one had married his step-mother: he was a jolly fellow, a great rich man, belike an alderman of the city, and so they winked at it, and would not meddle with the matter. But St. Paul hearing of it, wrote unto them, and in God's behalf, charged them to do away such abomination from among them: nor would he leave them, till he had excommunicated that wicked person. If ye now should excommunicate all such wicked persons, there would be much ado in England. But the magistrates shew favour to such, and will not suffer them to be rooted out, or put to shame. Oh! he is such a man's servant, we may not meddle with him. Oh! he is a gentleman, we may not put him to shame. And so lechery is used throughout all England; and such lechery as is used in no other part of the world. And yet it is made a matter of sport, a laughing matter, not to be heeded. But beware, ye magistrates; for God's love beware of this leaven. I would wish that Moses's law might be restored for punishment of lechery.—Fear not man, but God. If there be a judgment between a poor man, and a great man, what, must there be a corruption of justice? Oh! he is a great man, I dare not displease him. Fie upon thee! art thou a judge, and wilt be afraid to give right judgment? Fear him not, be he never so great a man, but uprightly do true justice. Likewise some pastors go from their cure: they are afraid of the plague: they dare not come nigh any sick body; but hire others, and they go away themselves. Out upon thee: the wolf cometh upon thy flock to devour them, and when they have most need of thee, thou runnest away from them. The soldier also, that should go to war, will draw back as much as he can. Oh! I shall be slain! Oh! such and such went, and never came back! such men went into Norfolk, and were slain there. But if the king commandeth thee to go, thou art bound to go. Follow thy occupation: in serving the king, thou shalt serve God.

Ye bribers, that go secretly about taking bribes, have in your minds, when ye devise your secret fetches, how Elizeus's servant was served, and was openly known. For God's proverb will be true: there is nothing hid, that shall not be revealed. He that took the silver bason and ewer for a bribe, thinketh that it will never come out; but he may now know that I know it; and not only I, but there be many more that know it. It will never be merry in England, till we have the skins of such. For what needeth bribing, where men do their business uprightly. I have to lay out for the king three thousand pounds: well, when I have laid it out, and bring in mine account, I must give three hundred marks to have my bills warranted. If I have done truly and uprightly, what need I give a penny to have my bills warranted? If I do bring in a true account, wherefore should one groat be given? Smell ye nothing in this? What need any bribes be given, except the bills be false?—Well, such practice hath been in England; but beware, it will out one day.—And here now I would speak to you, my masters minters, augmentationers, receivers, surveyors, and auditors: ye are known well enough what ye were afore ye came to your offices, and what lands ye had then, and what ye have purchased since, and what buildings ye make daily. Well: I doubt not but there be some good officers among you, but I will not swear for all.— And for the love of God, let poor workmen be paid. They make their moan, that they can get no money. The poor labourers, gun-makers, powder-men, bow-makers, arrow-makers, smiths, carpenters and other crafts cry for their wages. They be unpaid, some of them, three or four months, some of them half a year, yea, some of them put up bills this time twelve month for their money, and cannot be paid yet.— The first lent I preached here, I preached of restitution: Restitution, quoth some, what should he preach of restitution? let him preach of contrition, and let restitution alone: we can never make restitution. Then say I, if thou wilt not make restitution, thou shalt go to the devil. Now choose thee either restitution, or damnation. There be two kinds of restitution, secret and open: and whether of the two be used, if restitution be made, it is well enough. At my first preaching of restitution, one man took remorse of conscience, and acknowledged to me, that he had deceived the king; and was willing to make restitution: so the first lent, twenty pounds came to my hands for the king's use. I was promised twenty pounds more the same lent, but it could not be made up, so that it came not. Well, the next lent came three hundred and twenty pounds more: I received it myself, and paid it to the king's council. There I was asked, what he was that had thus made restitution? But should I have named him? nay, they should as soon have had this wesand of mine. Well; now this lent came one hundred and eighty pounds more, which I have paid this present day to the king's council. And so this man hath made a goodly restitution. If every one who hath beguiled the king (said I to a certain nobleman, who is one of the king's council) should make restitution after this sort, it would cough up the king, I warrant you, twenty thousand pounds. Yea, quoth the other, a whole hundred thousand pounds. Alack, alack! make restitution; for God's sake make restitution: you will cough in hell else, that all the devils will laugh at your coughing. There is no remedy: restitution or hell. Now this is of secret restitution. Some examples have been of open restitution. I am not afraid to name one: it was master Sherington, an honest gentleman, and one that God loveth. He openly confessed, that he had deceived the king, and made open restitution. Oh, what an argument may he have against the devil!"

I will conclude these extracts, with his own apology for his free speaking. "England, says he, cannot abide this geer; it cannot hear God's minister, and his threatning against sin. Though the sermon be never so good, and never so true, strait, he is a seditious fellow, he maketh trouble and rebellion in the realm, he lacketh discretion. The Ninevites rebuked not Jonas, that he lacked discretion, or that he spake out of time. But in England, if God's preacher be any thing quick, or speak sharply, then he is a foolish fellow, and lacketh discretion. Now-a-days, if they cannot reprove the doctrine, they will reprove the preacher: what! preach such things now! He should have respect to the time, and the state of things. It rejoiceth me, when my friends tell me, that people find fault with my discretion: for by likelihood, think I, the doctrine is true: for if they could find fault with the doctrine, they would not charge me with the lack of discretion, or the inconveniency of the time. I will ask you a question: I pray you, when should Jonas have preached against the covetousness of Nineveh, if the covetous men should have appointed him his time? I know that preachers ought to have discretion in their preaching; and that they ought to have a consideration, and respect to the place and the time, where and when they preach: and I say here what I would not say in the country for no good. But what then? Sin must be rebuked: sin must be plainly spoken against."

Thus far Mr. Latimer: superior to all corruption himself, he kept in awe a licentious court. Nor will the reader take offence at my multiplying upon him so many large quotations. I not only thought them very valuable remains, but a very necessary ornament likewise to this part of my history. For it would have been impossible to have given a true idea, in any words but his own, of that noble zeal in the cause of truth, which upon all occasions he exerted, and which makes so principal a part of his character. Nor can we wonder at the effect of his preaching, when we consider its freedom. He charged vice so home upon the consciences of the guilty, that he left no room for self-deceit, or misapplication: it being a more necessary part, in his opinion, of the preacher's office, to rouze men into a sense of their guilt, than to discourse them merely in the didactic strain; inasmuch as most men know more than they practise.

SECTION IX.

WHILE Mr. Latimer was thus discharging the duty of a court preacher, a slander past upon him; which being taken up by a low historian of those times, hath found its way into these. The matter of it is, that, after the lord high admiral's attainder and execution, which happened about this time, Mr. Latimer publicly defended his death in a sermon before the king; that he aspersed his character; and that he did it merely to pay a servile compliment to the protector. The first part of the charge is true; but the second, and third are false.

As for his aspersing the admiral's character, his character was so bad, there was no room for aspersion. A more debauched person hath rarely infested a court, than he was, during the last reign. But years growing upon him, and his appetite for pleasure abating, his passions took a new course, and from a voluptuous, he became an ambitious man. The pravity of his disposition, however, continued the same, though the object of his pursuit was altered. Having married the queen dowager of England, he began to raise his expectations to great heights. But enlarging his views still farther as he rose, and finding his marriage an incumbrance to him, he eased himself of it, as is generally suspected, by unfair means. This was done to make way for the princess Elizabeth, to whose bed he aspired; and, by her means, to the crown. But being disappointed of this, he entered into cabals against his brother the protector, set himself at the head of a party, and went so far as even to coin money, and raise troops; threatning to take the king, and the government out of his brother's hands. For these treasonable actions, and after frequent and fruitless admonitions from his brother, he was sentenced to lose his head: having been prosecuted according to the usual, but inequitable practice of those times, by a bill in parliament; though there was matter enough to have condemned him in a fairer trial.

But though the lord Sudley paid only so due a forfeit to the laws of his country, and had indeed been used with much greater tenderness, than his offences deserved; yet his death occasioned great clamour, and was made use of by the lords of the opposition (for he left a very dissatisfied party behind him) as a handle to raise a popular odium against the protector.

Mr. Latimer had always a high esteem for the protector: he thought him an honest and a good man; and of better intentions towards the public, than any of the lords at that time about the king. He was mortified therefore to see so invidious and base an opposition thwarting the schemes of so public-spirited a man; and endeavoured to lessen the odium by shewing the admiral's character in its true light, from some anecdotes not commonly known.

Since therefore Mr. Latimer's behaviour, in this instance, may be so fairly accounted for; and since his whole character was so contradictory to any sinister practice, I persuade myself, that I have said enough to wipe this reproach from his memory. What could induce that man to flatter the great, who, for the sake of truth, had voluntarily resigned one of the highest offices in his profession; and which, when voluntarily offered to him again, he had refused: a man too, who had taken all opportunities of inveighing against the vices of the greatest personages with a freedom, which in the strictest times would have been admired? So improbable indeed the slander is, that I should not have taken the pains I have taken to confute it, if it had not been credited, at least recorded as credible, by so great a man as our countryman John Milton; who, being a warm party-writer in the republican times of the Oliverian usurpation, suffers his zeal against episcopacy, in more instances than this, to bias his veracity, or at best, to impose upon his understanding.

But though the protector had thus triumphed over the wicked practices of his brother, he did not long survive him. The opposition soon revived under another, and a more formidable head, the duke of Northumland.

This nobleman was the son of that infamous Dudley, who, in the days of Henry VII. drew upon himself the odium of the nation by the invidious employment he held under that avaricious prince. When Henry VIII. came to the crown, he sacrificed the father to the resentment of the people, and raised the son to be a peer of the realm. But during the reign of this prince, he never appeared of prime consideration in the public eye. In king Edward's reign he shewed himself with distinction enough. He was a man of unlicenced pleasure, and unbounded ambition, more debauched, if possible, and more aspiring than even the lord Sudley; and by far more dangerous; inasmuch as he was more artful than he, more deep, more specious, and more prudent. He was at the same time so resolute and daring, that nothing arduous or dangerous ever checked him. In a word, he had more mischievous designs, and better abilities to do mischief, than any man of his time, excepting only the bishop of Winchester.

This person had long viewed the protector with an eye of jealousy and hatred. He was agitating great schemes for the agrandizement of his family, and knew that while the protector lived, he could but little advance them. Resolving therefore to rid himself of this obstacle, he laid a train with equal malice and dexterity, which in the end effected his design. The protector, intangled in his contrivances, lost his life, and left an open field for the machinations of his enemy.

From this time I meet with no accounts of Mr. Latimer, during the remainder of king Edward's reign. It seems most probable, that upon this revolution at court, he retired into the country, and made use of the king's licence, as a general preacher, in those parts, where he thought his labours might be most useful: I shall, however, for the sake of connection, sketch out the intervening history of those times, till we meet with Mr. Latimer again, in the order of them.

After the protector's death, the duke of Northumberland became all-powerful at court; and soon began to execute the wicked projects he had planned. His first step was to bring about a marriage between his son Guilford Dudley, and the eldest daughter of the house of Suffolk, a house nearly related to the crown.

About the time when this alliance was concluded, the king fell sick; and his distemper increasing, though the symptoms were not yet violent, the duke advised the settlement of the succession. Great objections were made to the princess Mary, on the account of her religion: and objections were made both to her and her sister, on the account of their illegitimacy. But though they had an act of parliament in their favour, by the duke's management, they were both set aside, and the crown was settled upon his daughter-in-law, the lady Jane Grey; who, upon the king's death, which happened soon after, was proclaimed queen of England. The world observing how aptly the king's death coincided with the duke's designs, had little reason to doubt of its being a projected part of a regular plan.

Thus far the duke succeeded to his wish, and found a more general concurrence in the officers of state and judges, than he could have expected. But in the midst of this tranquility a sudden storm arose.

The princess Mary, of whom he fatally thought himself too secure, found adherents in many parts of the nation, most of whom nothing but their great aversion to the duke's government, could have drawn to her party. Her power daily increasing, the duke led an army against her. But his efforts were vain. While his forces were continually diminishing by revolts, he was thunder-struck with news from London, that the council had deserted him, and had proclaimed queen Mary. Thus forsaken of all his friends, like other disappointed villains, he forsook himself; and agonizing for some time under the pangs of baffled guilt and ambition, he gave at last a temporary case to his distracted thoughts, by submitting himself to the queen's mercy: and if every servile compliance, even to the abjuring the religion he had all his life professed, could have saved him, he had been saved. But his crimes exceeded forgiveness. He was given up therefore to justice, and ended his life upon a scaffold.

With him fell his new creation, queen Jane, an incomparable lady, endowed with every virtue; unfortunate only in having been made the tool of a practised villain.

Queen Mary having thus obtained the crown, began next to think of settling her government. Religion was her first care. As to her own principles, they were well known; though she had temporized under her father, with a good share of compliance, and had made promises too, upon her advancement to the crown, that she would introduce no public change in the established religion. But promises of this kind met with easy dispensations. She resolved, therefore, as soon as she could, to restore popery, and reconcile the nation to the see of Rome.

Her chief ministers in this design were Stephen Gardiner, now made lord chancellor, and Edmund Bonner, bishop of London.

The former of these persons hath already been often mentioned in a disadvantageous light. He was a man, indeed, formed by nature, as it should seem, to do mischief. He had a bad heart, a clear head, quick parts, improved by long practice in the world, and a dark inscrutable mind, in which he treasured up every thing that passed by him; and laying things together with wonderful sagacity, formed the deepest schemes. These he could with great judgment adapt to circumstances as they arose: and what cunning and dissimulation could not effect, in which he excelled all men of his time, he went through with by a cool, and yet dauntless resolution. He was naturally fierce and cruel; and this temper was inflamed by the usage he had met with, which was indeed but indifferent, under king Edward: so that he bent himself to persecution in the full spirit of retaliation.

The bishop of London had formerly maintained an interest with Henry VIII. by means of the lowest adulation, to which that prince was very open: and though he went along with the innovations of that reign, yet when queen Mary began to look among her friends, his sufferings under king Edward were accepted as an atonement. Hitherto he had acted in disguise; but finding himself now free from all restraint, the whole man appeared. And sure the genius of popery had never a more proper subject to work on. He was a man of violent passions, and those of the sanguine kind: of little observation and knowledge, and without any judgment; as if just prepared for the infusions of blind zeal and prejudice.

These were the persons, from whose counsels, (upon the present revolution of government) the settlement of religion was expected. Bonner was indeed little more than an agent in the hands of Gardiner, who on many occasions chose rather to sit concealed, and work mischief by proxy. It suited the darkness of his disposition, and he found in Bonner an instrument intirely adapted to his purpose; open ears, an impetuous temper, raging zeal, a hardened heart, and an obstinate perseverance: so that Gardiner had only to wind him up occasionally, and give him a proper direction; and the zealot moved with the regularity of a machine, and with what impetuosity his director impressed.

The introduction of popery being thus resolved on, the first step which was taken was to prohibit all preaching throughout the kingdom; and to licence only such as were known to be popishly inclined.

The queen's designs being now every where apparent, the reformed clergy presently took the alarm. They saw their parishes about to be corrupted by Romish preachers, who spread themselves over the nation in great numbers; and thinking, in the primitive manner, that it was right to obey God rather than man, they resolved to endure the worst for the sake of their religion. Many of them, therefore, preached with great freedom, in their accustomed manner, against the doctrines of popery. And, to set them an example, archbishop Cranmer drew up a very free paper, by way of protestation against the mass; which got abroad before he published it. Upon this he was sent for by the council; and being questioned about it, he boldly answered, "The paper was his, and he was only sorry, that he had not fixed it, as he intended, with his hand and seal, upon St. Paul's gate." Most men wondered that he was suffered to escape; but it was thought more prudent to begin with the inferior clergy. Accordingly, a strict inquiry was made after the more forward and popular preachers; and many of them were taken into custody: some without any cause alledged; particularly Rogers and Bradford, who had used their popularity in no instance, since the late change of government, but in rescuing a popish priest from an inraged multitude. After these, others of more distinction were imprisoned; and in a little time the archbishop himself.

SECTION X.

WHILE this severe inquiry was carrying on in London, Mr. Latimer was in the country, where he continued preaching in his usual manner, unaffected by the danger of the times. But he did not long enjoy this liberty. The bishop of Winchester, who had proscribed him with the first, sent a messenger to cite him before the council. He had notice of this design some hours before the messenger's arrival: but he made no use of the intelligence. Like other eminent reformers of that time, he chose rather to meet, than avoid a question; thinking that he could not give a nobler testimony to the uprightness of his conscience, than by shewing the world it was a sufficient security to him in whatever dangers it might involve him.

The messenger therefore found him equipped for his journey: at which, expressing his surprize, Mr. Latimer told him, "That he was as ready to attend him to London, thus called upon to answer for his faith, as he ever was to take any journey in his life: and that he doubted not but that God, who had already enabled him to stand before two princes, would enable him to stand before a third." The messenger then acquainting him, that he had no orders to seize his person, delivered a letter, and departed. From which it is plain, they chose rather to drive him out of the kingdom, than to bring him to any public question. They well knew the firmness of his mind; and were afraid, as Mr. Fox observes, "lest his constancy should deface them in their popery, and confirm the godly in the truth."

Mr. Latimer, however, opening the letter, and finding it to contain a citation from the council, resolved to obey it. He set out, therefore, immediately for London. As he passed through Smithfield, where heretics were usually burnt, he said chearfully, "This place hath long groaned for me." The next morning he waited upon the council; who having loaded him with many severe reproaches, sent him to the tower.

This was but a repetition of a former part of his life: only he now met with harsher treatment, and had more frequent occasion to exercise his resignation; which virtue no man possessed in a larger measure. Nayeven the usual chearfulness of his disposition did not now forsake him; of which we have one instance still remaining.

A servant leaving his apartment, Mr. Latimer called after him, and bid him tell his master, "That unless he took better care of him, he would certainly escape him." Upon this message, the lieutenant, with some discomposure in his countenance, came to Mr. Latimer, and desired an explanation of what he had said to his servant. "Why, you expect, I suppose, Sir, replied Mr. Latimer, that I should be burned; but if you do not allow me a little fire, this frosty weather, I can tell you, I shall first be starved."

In the mean time the bishop of Winchester, and his friends held frequent councils on public affairs; and endeavoured to impose upon the world, by making it believe, that reason as well as power was on their side. With this view it was resolved, that when the convocation met, the argument between the papists and protestants should be handled. But Gardiner was a better politician, than to commit a matter of such consequence to a fair debate. He had provided for the success, therefore, by modelling a convocation to his mind; in which only six protestant divines got admittance. By this junto, points of divinity and articles of faith were settled.

The protestants, as they very well might, were loud in their clamour against such manifest partiality; and made so fair a representation of the disingenuous treatment they had received, that Gardiner found his cause rather injured by what he had done, than promoted. He resolved, therefore, to do something in the same way less liable to exception: and soon after, it was given out, that the controversy between the papists and protestants should be finally determined in a solemn disputation to be held at Oxford, between the most eminent divines on each side. And so far the papists acted honestly: for Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer, who were confessedly the most eminent divines of their party, and were designed for this employment by the expectation of all men who wished well to truth, were appointed to manage the dispute on the part of the protestant. Accordingly, they were taken out of the tower, where they had all been imprisoned, and were sent to Oxford.

Of these three, Ridley was generally esteemed the most eminent for parts and learning; as indeed he was superior in these points to most men of the age in which he lived. He possessed likewise, in a great degree, all those valuable qualities, which make a man amiable in society. All the virtues of humanity were kneaded in his composition. Through Cranmer's recommendation, in king Edward's time, he was promoted to the bishopric of London, over which he presided with that exemplary lustre, which piety and virtue add to eminence of station. In the beginning of queen Mary, he was involved with the first in the troubles of the times, which no man endured with greater constancy.

The protestant disputants being thus appointed, proper persons were next thought on to oppose them. At length it was determined to assign this office to Dr. Weston, prolocutor of the convocation, and an assembly of divines chosen out of both universities. Letters therefore were dispatched to Oxford, to put all things in readiness; and soon after to Cambridge, where commissioners were immediately appointed.

In the mean time Mr. Latimer, and his companions were closely confined at Oxford, in the common prison; deprived of every comfort, but what their own breasts could administer. How free the disputation was likely to be, they might easily imagine, when they found themselves denied the use even of books, and pen and ink. Their prison-hours, however, were not spent in vain lamentations: their religion raised them above all human sufferings, and all mortal fears.

Their chief resource was in prayer, in which exercise they spent great part of every day. Mr. Latimer particularly, would often continue kneeling, till he was not able to rise without help. The principal subject of his prayers was, that God would enable him to maintain the profession of his religion to the last; that God would again restore his gospel to England, and preserve the princess Elizabeth to be a comfort to this land.

Mr. Fox has preserved a conference, afterwards put into writing, which was held at this time between bishop Ridley, and bishop Latimer. As it is worth the reader's notice, and may without any great interruption be inserted in this place, I shall take such passages from it, as I shall think worth preserving.

The two bishops are represented fitting in their prison, ruminating upon the solemn preparations then making for their trial, of which probably they were now first informed. Bishop Ridley first broke silence. "The time, said he, is now come: we are now called upon either to deny our faith, or to suffer death in its defence. You, Mr. Latimer, are an old soldier of Christ, and have frequently withstood the fear of death; whereas I am raw in the service, and unexperienced." With this preface he introduces a request, that Mr. Latimer, whom he calls his father, would hear him propose such arguments as he thinks it most likely his adversaries would urge against him, and assist him in providing himself with proper answers to them. To this Mr. Latimer, in his usual strain of good-humour, answered, that, "He fansied the good bishop was treating him, as he remembered Mr. Bilney used formerly to do, who, when he wanted to teach him, would always do it under colour of being taught himself. But in the present case, says he, my lord, I am determined for myself to give them very little trouble. I shall just offer them a plain account of my faith, and shall say very little more: for I know any thing more will be to no purpose. They talk of a free disputation; but I am well assured, their grand argument will be, as it was once their forefathers, "We have a law, and by our law ye ought to die." However, upon Mr. Ridley's pressing his request, they entered upon the examination he desired.

This part of their conference contains little of curious; only the common arguments against the tenets of popery. When they had finished this exercise, Ridley breaks out in this pathetic strain.

"Thus you see, good father, how I would prepare myself for my adversary; and how I would learn by practice to be expert in those weapons, which I shall presently be obliged to wield. In Tine-dale, upon the borders of Scotland, the place of my nativity, I have known my countrymen watch night and day in arms; especially when they had notice of any intended inroad from the Scots. And though by such bravery many of them lost their lives, yet they defended their country, died in a good cause, and intailed the love of the neighbourhood upon their posterity. And shall not we watch in the cause of Christ, and in the defence of our religion, whereon depend all our hopes of immortality? Shall we not go always armed? ever ready to receive a watchful foe? Let us then awake; and taking the cross upon our shoulders, let us follow our captain Christ, who by his own blood hath hallowed the way that leadeth to God.—Thus, good father, I have opened my heart freely unto you. And now, methinks, I see you just about to lift up your eyes to heaven, in your accustomed manner, and turning your prophetical countenance upon me, thus to speak. "Trust not, my son, (I pray you vouchsafe me the honour of this name, for in it I shall think myself both honoured by you and loved) trust not, I say, my son, to these word-weapons, but remember what our Lord says, "It shall be given you in that same hour what you shall speak." Pray for me, O father, pray for me, that I may throw my whole care upon God; and may trust in him only in my distresses."

"Of my prayers, replied the old bishop, you may be well assured: nor do I doubt but I shall have yours in return. And indeed, prayer and patience should be our great resources. For myself, had I the learning of St. Paul, I should think it ill laid out upon an elaborate defence. Yet our case, my lord, admits of comfort. Our enemies can do no more than God permits; and God is faithful; who will not suffer us to be tempted above our strength. Be at a point with them: stand to that, and let them say and do what they please. To use many words would be vain: yet it is requisite to give a reasonable account of your faith, if they will quietly hear you. For other things, in a wicked judgment-hall, a man may keep silence after the example of Christ. As for their sophistry, you know falsehood may often be displayed in the colours of truth. But above all things, be upon your guard against the fear of death. This is the great argument you must oppose.—Poor Shaxton! it is to be feared this argument had the greatest weight in his recantation. But let us be stedfast, and unmoveable; assuring ourselves, that we cannot be more happy, than by being such Philippians, as not only believe in Christ, but dare suffer for his sake."—With such noble fortitude, and such exalted sentiments were these two great reformers of religion inspired!

But we must now leave them in their prison, and introduce a scene of a different kind.

SECTION XI.

WE left the Cambridge commissioners setting out in great pomp for Oxford, where they arrived on the 13th of April, 1554. Here they were received with a profusion of academical compliments; conferring of degrees, speeches, feasts, and processions. Forms were then adjusted; and a method in their proceedings agreed on by the commissioners.

In this commission were joined thirty-three persons. To run over a catalogue of their names, would be needless; as the greater part of them were men of no note. It is no breach of charity to say, they were only distinguished from each other by different degrees of bigotry and ignorance.

Some among them were of more consequence; Weston, Smith, Tresham, and Chedsey.

Weston was a man of considerable learning, which gave him great reputation with his party. In all points of divinity, his judgment was esteemed decisive; and none was thought more worthy to preside over the convocation. His religion, however, was only in his head: it made no impression upon his heart. Yet he maintained a decent outside; and had the address to pass off in the world a great share of spiritual pride for sanctity of manners: till having at length the misfortune to be taken in adultery, he was generally known. He was at this time, however, in the meridian of his credit.

Smith was a mere temporizer, and had all his life taken his creed from the establishment. He had been bred a papist, and had written with some credit against priest's marriage. But when protestantism took the lead, he got himself recommended, through Cranmer's means, to the reigning powers; and to establish himself the better, promised to confute his own book. But before his treatise was finished, the times changed; and his faith changing with them, he was again taken notice of by the heads of the prevailing religion; his pen recommending him, which was easy and elegant; while the story of his having agreed to confute his own book, which was indeed a fact, was imputed only to the malice of the adverse party.

Tresham was an orthodox divine; but one of those heavy mortals, who have great learning, and no sense. He was a bigot in the last degree. But the following story will give a just idea of his character. When queen Mary began to think of restoring the old religion at Oxford, Dr. Tresham, then sub-dean of Christ-church, was among those, who were trusted by her in this business. Calling together, therefore, the members of his college, he recommended popery to them in a set oration: and having talked over all the common-place arguments with sufficient prolixity, he emphatically concluded with telling them, "That a parcel of very fine copes had been made to go to Windsor; but that the queen had been so gracious as to send them to Christ-church; and that if they would go to mass, they should each have one: that upon that condition, he would, moreover, procure for them the lady-bell at Bampton, which would make Christ-church bells the sweetest of any in England: and that lastly, he would give them as fine a water-sprinkle, as eyes ever beheld."

But among them all, Chedsey was by far the most considerable. He was indeed a very able man. For parts and learning, few of his time went beyond him. But he too had a ductile faith, which had been wholly guided by that of his superiors. He made atonement, however, for his temporising under king Edward, by his zeal in persecuting under queen Mary.

These persons, having now received all the civilities, which the zeal of Oxford could express, and having settled all previous punctilio's, proceeded to business. Arraying themselves therefore in scarlet, they met at St. Mary's church; where seating themselves before the altar, and placing the prolocutor in the midst, they sent for the prisoners.

The croud soon made way for archbishop Cranmer, who was brought in by a guard of armed men. When the tumult was a little composed, the prolocutor made a short oration to his audience in praise of religious unity; and then turning to the archbishop, he reminded him of the pious education he had received in an orthodox seminary; of the eminent station he had held under a catholic king, and of his long attachment to popery. He then spoke with an affected concern of his shameful apostacy; and of the several errors, which had crept into the church, while he presided over it. Lastly, he acquainted him with the design of their present meeting; informing him, that the convocation, by her majesty's order, taking into consideration his apostacy, and that of his brethren, had commissioned them to endeavour to bring them back to their mother church; that for this end certain articles had been drawn up, which the convocation had signed, and which it was expected, that he too, and his brethren, would either subscribe or confute.

The prolocutor then ordered the articles to be read aloud, which were these.

"The natural body of Christ is really in the sacrament after the words spoken by the priest.

In the sacrament, after the words of consecration, no other substance does remain, than the substance of the body and blood of Christ.

In the mass is a sacrifice propitiatory for the sins of the quick and dead."

The articles being read, the archbishop, desiring leave, read them over to himself three or four times; and then asking a few pertinent questions with regard to the import of some of the terms, with some earnestness denied them all. "I am as great a friend, said he, gentlemen, to unity, as any of you; but I can never think of making falsehood the bond of peace. The prolocutor, making no reply, ordered a copy of the articles to be delivered to him; and fixed a day, on which he told him he expected, he would publicly maintain his negative.

Dr. Ridley was next brought in, who, without any hesitation, denied the articles. Upon which the prolocutor appointed him likewise a disputation-day, and dismissed him.

Bishop Latimer was brought in last, like a primitive martyr, in his prison attire. He had a cap upon his head, buttoned under his chin, a pair of spectacles hanging at his breast, a New Testament under his arm, and a staff in his hand. He was almost spent with pressing through the croud; and the prolocutor ordering a chair to be brought for him, he walked up to it, and saying, he was a very old man, sat down without any ceremony. The articles were then tendered to him; which he denied. The prolocutor, upon this, telling him, that he must dispute on the wednesday following; the old bishop, with as much chearfulness, as he would have shewn upon the most ordinary occasion, shaking his palsied head, answered, smiling, "Indeed, gentlemen, I am just as well qualified to be made governor of Calais." He then complained, that he was very old, and very infirm; and said, that he had the use of no book but of that under his arm; which he had read seven times over deliberately, without finding the least mention made of the mass. In this speech he gave great offence, by saying, in his humourous way, alluding to transubstantiation, that he could find neither the marrow-bones, nor the sinews of the mass in the New Testament. Upon which, the prolocutor cried out with some warmth, that he would make him find both: and when Mr. Latimer, recollecting himself, was going to explain his meaning in that expression, he was not suffered to speak.

Thus the assembly broke up; having observed, upon the whole, more decency and good-manners, than was generally expected.

At length, the appointed day came for the archbishop's disputation. You might have known something very uncommon was in agitation; for the whole university was in motion. Almost at day-break the schools were thronged. About eight, the commissioners took their seats; and presently afterwards, the archbishop was brought in guarded.

But I will not delay the reader with the particulars of this day, nor of that, on which bishop Ridley disputed. I shall only say in general, for the sake of truth, that the papists do not seem to have justice done them by their protestant adversaries. Let these put what gloss upon the affair they please, the papists certainly had the better of the argument on both those days. The case was this, they drew their chief proofs, in favour of transubstantiation, from the fathers; many of whom, and fome of the more esteemed writers among them, speak on this subject in a language by no means evangelical. The two bishops accordingly being thus pressed by an authority, which they durst not reject, were not a little embarrassed. And indeed, how could a protestant divine defend such a passage as this from St. Chrysostom? "What a miracle is this! He who sits above with the Father, at the very same instant of time is handled with the hands of men?" or such a passage as this from the same writer, "That which is in the cup, is the same which flowed from the side of Christ?" or this from Theophilact. "Because we would abhor the eating of raw flesh, and especially human flesh, therefore, it appeareth as bread, though it is indeed flesh?" or this from St. Austin, "Christ was carried in his own hands, when he said, this is my body?" or this from Justin Martyr, "We are taught, that when this nourishing food is consecrated, it becomes the flesh and blood of Christ?" or this from St. Ambrose, "It is bread before it is consecrated, but when that ceremony hath passed upon it, of bread it becomes the flesh of Christ?" Of all these passages, and many others of the same kind, the papists, with not a little dexterity, made their avail. The two bishops, in the mean time, instead of disavowing an insufficient authority, weakly defended a good cause; evading, and distinguishing, after the manner of schoolmen. Ridley's defence indeed was very animated: for he had great quickness of parts as well as learning. Cranmer's was no way extraordinary: through his great modesty, he seems to have been over-awed by his audience. And yet Ridley would have acted as wise a part, if he had taken his friend bishop Latimer's advice, and contented himself with giving a reasonable account of his faith. I shall only add, that these disputations were very tumultuous, and accompanied with great indecency both of language and behaviour on the part of the papist.

The day after the bishop of London disputed, bishop Latimer was called into the schools. Of this day I shall be more particular.

SECTION XII.

THE commissioners being now seated, the audience formed, and the tumult of a croud in some degree subsided, Dr. Weston, the prolocutor, rising up, acquainted his hearers, that the cause of their meeting was to defend the orthodox doctrine of transubstantiation; and to confute certain novel opinions, which had been lately propagated with great zeal in the nation! "And of you, father, said he, turning to the old bishop, I beg, if you have any thing to say, that you will be as concise as possible." This was spoken in Latin; upon which the bishop answered; "I hope, Sir, you will give me leave to speak what I have to speak in English: I have been very little conversant in the Latin tongue these twenty years!" The prolocutor consented; and the bishop, having thanked him, replied, "I will just beg leave then, Sir, to protest my faith. Indeed, I am not able to dispute. I will protest my faith; and you may then do with me just what you please."

Upon this he took a paper out of his pocket, and began to read his protestation. But he had not proceeded many minutes, when a murmur arose on every hand, increasing by degrees into a clamour; which the prolocutor was so far from checking, that in a very indecent manner he patronized it, calling out, with some circumstances of rudeness, upon the bishop to desist.—The old man, surprised with this sudden tumult of ill-manners, paused in admiration at it: but presently recovering himself, he turned to the prolocutor, and said, with some vehemence; "In my time I have spoken before two kings, and have been heard for some hours together, without interruption: here I cannot be permitted one quarter of an hour.—Dr. Weston, I have frequently heard of you before: but I think I never saw you till now. I perceive you have great wit, and great learning: God grant you may make a right use of these gifts!" Other things he said; but these are the principal. His speech had its effect. The prolocutor took his paper, and said, he would read it himself. But whether he could not read it, or would not, he presently laid it down, and called out to the bishop, "Since you refuse to dispute, will you then subscribe?" Upon his answering in the negative, Weston artfully leads him by a train of familiar questions into an argument; and when he thought he had raised him to a proper pitch, he gave a sign to Dr. Smith the opponent, to begin: who being prepared, immediately rises up, and in a pompous manner, prefaces the disputation, and gives out the question. When he had done, the old bishop gravely answered, "I am sorry, Sir, that this worshipful audience must be disappointed in their expectation.—I have already spoken my mind."

The prolocutor observing this, begins again in his artful manner to draw Mr. Latimer into an argument. Pray, said he, Sir, how long have you been in prison?—About nine months, Sir.—But I was imprisoned, said Weston, six years.—I am heartily sorry for it, Sir.—I think you were once, Mr. Latimer, of our way of thinking.—I was, Sir.—I have heard too, that you have said mass in your time?—I have, Sir.—He then asked him, why he altered his opinion; and thus by degrees, led him to answer the chief arguments brought from scripture in favour of transubstantiation. They then began to ply him with the fathers: and first, a passage from Hillary was quoted. As he was about to answer, one of the commissioners called out to him, (on account of the populace most probably) "Mr. Latimer, speak in Latin, speak in Latin, I know you can do it, if you please." But the bishop saying he had the prolocutor's leave, went on in English, and told them, that, "As for the passage from Hillary, which they had quoted, he really could not see that it made much for them; but he would answer them by another quotation from Melancthon, who says, that if the fathers had foreseen how much weight their authority was to have in this controversy, they would have written with more caution."

But the opponent not being satisfied with this, begs leave to reduce the words of Hillary into a syllogistic argument, and begins thus: "Such as is the unity of our flesh with Christ's flesh, such, nay greater, is the unity of Christ with the Father.—But the unity of Christ's flesh with our flesh, is true and substantial.—Therefore, the unity of Christ with the Father, is true and substantial.—Here he paused, expecting that the bishop would deny his major or his minor, as the logicians speak. But instead of that, he answered gravely, "You may go on, Sir, if you please; but, upon my word, I do not understand you."

The jargon of this learned doctor being silenced, others attacked him, but with equal success. He answered their questions, as far as civility required, but none of them could engage him in any formal disputation. And when proofs from the fathers were multiplied upon him, he at length told them plainly, "That such proofs had no weight with him: that the fathers, no doubt, were often deceived; and that he never depended upon them, but when they depended upon scripture." "Then you are not of St. Chrysostom's faith, replied his antagonist, nor of St. Austin's?" "I have told you, said Mr. Latimer, I am not, except when they bring scripture for. what they say."

Little more was said, when the prolocutor finding it was impossible to urge him into a controversy, rose up, and dissolved the assembly, crying out to the populace, "Here you all see the weakness of heresy against the truth: here is a man who, adhering to his errors, hath given up the gospel, and rejected the fathers." The old bishop made no reply; but wrapping his gown about him, and taking up his New Testament, and his staff, walked out as unconcerned, as he came in.

Thus he maintained to the last his resolution of not disputing; a resolution which he had not hastily taken. Mr. Addison (in his 465th spectator) greatly admires his behaviour on this occasion, though he does not assign it to its true cause. "This venerable old man, says he, knowing how his abilities were impaired by age, and that it was impossible for him to recollect all those reasons, which had directed him in the choice of his religion, left his companions, who were in the full possession of their parts and learning, to baffle and confound their antagonists by the force of reason. As for himself, he only repeated to his adversaries the articles in which he firmly believed, and in the profession of which he was determined to die."—The truth is, he knew it would answer no end to be more explicit.

These solemn disputations being thus at an end, nothing now remained but to pass sentence. On the friday following, therefore, the commissioners, seated in their accustomed form, sent for the three bishops to St. Mary's church: where, after some affected exhortations to recant, the prolocutor first excommunicated, and then condemned them. As soon as the sentence was read, bishop Latimer lifting up his eyes, cried out, "I thank God most heartily, that he hath prolonged my life to this end!" To which the prolocutor replied, "If you go to heaven in this faith, I am thoroughly persuaded I shall never get there."

The next day a grand procession was made, in which the host, by way of triumph, was carried in state, under a canopy.

These eminent persons being thus convicted of heresy, and delivered over to the secular arm, various were the opinions of men concerning them. Some thought the queen was inclined to mercy; and it was confidently reported, that the three bishops would be removed indeed from interfering publicly with religion; but that, very liberally pensioned, they should in other respects have no cause to complain: while some again as positively affirmed, their measure would be very hard; as the queen, it was well known, would never forgive the hand they had had in her mother's divorce, and the separation from the church of Rome. But these were only the popular conjectures of the time, none of them founded on truth: for the councils, which determined the fates of these great men, had not yet birth.

SECTION XIII.

QUEEN Mary, how zealous soever in the cause of popery, was not yet at leisure to attend the settlement of it. She had in general schemed it; but had laid out no measures. Civil affairs were at this time more her concern than ecclesiastical. The tower was full of state prisoners, yet undisposed of; her title to the crown was not yet confirmed; nor her cabinet formed: a dangerous insurrection had been moved in Essex; and a seditious spirit was still at work in many parts of the nation, particularly in the capital, discovering itself in riots and loud murmurs. To these things the queen's marriage succeeded, as another obstacle to the immediate settlement of religion.

At length, however, an area was cleared for the scene of blood about to be exhibited; and from this time, to the conclusion of the queen's reign, the establishment of popery was the single point in view; every national concern, in the mean time, both at home and abroad, being either made subservient to it, or neglected.

The first effort of the ministry was to gain a parliamentary concurrence. King Edward's laws against popery were still in force, and the nation of course in a state of separation from Rome. But in those days, when prerogative ran high, the parliament was little more than an echo to the cabinet. The queen, therefore, found it an easy matter to arm herself with what powers she wanted. One act cancelled a whole reign; statutes against heresy were revived, and England was again prepared for the popish yoke.

An account of these happy events was presently dispatched to Rome, where it created the face of a jubilee. The pope laid aside his long-conceived displeasure; accepted the penitent nation; and easily consented to send over cardinal Pool into England, to make up the breach, in quality of his legate.

Cardinal Pool, of the blood royal of England, was as much known in the world as any churchman of his time; and as generally esteemed. He might have been at the head of the reformation under Henry VIII; but he chose rather to court the favours of the pope; with whom to ingratiate himself, he treated Henry, then beginning to innovate, in a manner, which drew upon him a bill of attainder. But as Rome was the situation he chose, his exile was the less grievous. Here his influence was so great, that he aspired to the papacy: and he would have carried his point, if his honesty had permitted him to have engaged thoroughly in the intrigues of the conclave. This disappointment awaked his philosophy, and he retired from the world into a monastery of Benedictines near Verona. Here he was contemplating the vanity of all earthly things, when he received a gracious letter from the queen of England, pressing his return to his native country, with all assurances of favour. Immediately his eyes were opened; and he found that, instead of sound philosophy, he had been indulging only a reverie of melancholy. As soon as possible, therefore, he set out for England; where he was received in great form, and placed at the head of ecclesiastical affairs. And, to do him justice, he became his station. He was a great and a good man; moderate in his opinions, and prudent in his behaviour; and would certainly have prevented those reproaches on his religion, which this reign occasioned, had his resolution been equal to his judgment.

The parliament having, with all obsequiousness, done beyond what was expected towards the introduction of popery, and being now no longer wanted, was, at length dissolved, about the beginning of the year 1555.

The cardinal immediately began to act. Calling a council therefore of bishops, he proposed to their consideration the settlement of religion. And when many things had been said on that subject, and some things agreed on, they fell next on the treatment of heretics. "For mv own part, said the cardinal, I think we should be content with the public restoration of religion; and instead of irritating our adversaries by a rigorous execution of the revived statutes, I could wish that every bishop in his diocese would try the more winning expedients of gentleness and persuasion." He then urged the example of the emperor Charles V. who, by a severe persecution of the Lutherans, involved himself in many difficulties, and purchased nothing but dishonour.

To this the bishop of Winchester answered, "That, in his opinion, it was the same thing not to have a law, and not to execute one: that some blood must be shed: that he was not an advocate for a general massacre: to shake the leaves, he said, was of little avail; he would have the ax laid to the root of the tree: the bishops, and most forward preachers, ought certainly to die: the rest were of no consequence."

He had scarce sat down, when the bishop of London, who always took his temper from Winchester, starting up, vehemently prosecuted the same subject, and having said many things with great fierceness of language, concluded, with freely offering himself to be the minister of the severest measures they could propose. "I cannot, said he, my lords, act canonically any where, but in my own diocese; and there I shall desire no man's help or countenance. And for those who are not in my jurisdiction, let them only be sent up to me, and lodged in any of my prisons, and when I have got them there, God do so to Bonner, and more also, if one of them escape me."

Others spoke in the council, but all in the same violent strain. The result was, a commission was issued out by the cardinal, impowering Winchester, London, and other bishops, to try and examine heretics, agreeably to the laws which were now revived.

Then followed times unparalleled in English story: dreadful times, which might well take for their motto that verse in Homer,
[*] —〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
times, when all sober men beheld with horror furious bigots dragging away with horrid zeal men, women, and children, guilty of no civil offence, by companies together, and delivering them up to tortures and cruel deaths; when they saw a religion breathing peace and charity, propagated by such acts of blood, as would have disgraced even the rites of an heathen Moloc. The whole nation stood aghast. Fear, and distrust, and jealousy were spread through every part; and forced men into retirements, where they mourned in secret a parent, a brother, a son, the hopes of their family, singled out for their conspicuous piety.—Happy were they, who, escaping the inquisition of those times, fled naked and destitute into foreign countries, where they found a retreat even in exile.

Notes

*

—through the dusky air

The pyres thick-flaming shot a dismal glare.

POPE

↵

SECTION XIV.

THE rage of this persecution had now continued, yet unabated, near three quarters of a year. The archbishop of Canterbury, and the two bishops, Ridley and Latimer, were still in prison, unmolested: and they who were acquainted with the bishop of Winchester's maxims, and knew that he had the direction of affairs, were surprised at this lenity, and at a loss for the reason of it.

In answer to this popular inquiry, it was given out, "That an oversight had been committed in condemning these bishops, before the statutes, on which they were condemned, had been revived: that a commission therefore from Rome was necessary for a new trial: that this had been sent for; but the delays of that court were notorious." And in part, this was fact, for they had indeed been too hasty in condemning the three bishops. However, afterwards, the whole truth appeared, when it was found that these delays, which had been charged upon the court of Rome, were really occasioned by the bishop of Winchester himself.

It was the secret grief of that ambitious prelate, that there was one still higher than himself, in ecclesiastical affairs. The cardinal's hat on the head of Pool, and the pope's authority, had long been the objects of his envy. With all his subtilty and address, therefore, he was now secretly working the cardinal's ruin. He had his agents in Rome, who were throwing out hints in the conclave, that the bishop of Winchester wanted an associate of equal spirit with himself; that the legate was not hearty in the business; and that his lenity to the protestants only too much shewed his inclination towards them.

The circumstances of the time likewise favoured Gardiner's ambition. For he knew, that cardinal Carraffa, who had just obtained the pontificate, had no friendship for Pool, with whom formerly he had sharp disputes. The designing prelate, therefore, was in great hopes, that his scheme would take effect; and when Pool was removed, he made no doubt but he had interest to succeed him.

But this was only an under part in his scheme. He knew, and was distressed in knowing, that the archbishopric of Canterbury, upon the death of Cranmer, was intended for the legate. This dignity his heart was set on, of which he made himself sure upon the removal of Pool. With this view he did what he could to delay the execution of Cranmer, till the legate was recalled, and his own head ready for the mitre.

These delays, however, at length grew notorious, and occasioned some clamour among the warmer papists: and Winchester finding himself pressed by the curiosity of some, and the zeal of others, was obliged, in part at least, to abandon his scheme. It was his original design, as less liable to suspicion, to have treated the three bishops in the same way. However now, to wipe off the offence that had been taken, he resolved to give up Ridley and Latimer to their immediate fate; and to delay Cranmer's execution, by procuring a different form of process against him.

The chief obstacle therefore being now removed, a commission soon came from Rome, directed to the cardinal, who immediately named the bishops of Lincoln, Gloucester, and Bristol, his commissioners, to execute it.

The rumour of this commission spread an universal alarm. For with regard to the fates of these eminent persons, the expectation of men had now almost totally subsided: and being renewed, held them doubly attentive; while the exulting papist on one side, and the desponding protestant on the other, stood prepared to see in this stroke the completion of their hopes and fears.

Great were the preparations in the mean time at Oxford, to receive the commissioners. For as this was the first judicial act, since the restoration of popery, in which the pope interfered, the utmost respect which the university could pay, was deemed only a proper testimony of its zeal. These compliments being sufficiently discharged, on the 30th of september, 1555, the commissioners seating themselves in great state in the divinity-school, the two bishops were called before them. The bishop of London was first questioned. Then bishop Latimer was brought in; to whom Lincoln, who was a polite and very eloquent man, spoke to this effect.

"This parchment, Mr. Latimer, contains a commission from my lord cardinal, under his holiness, directed to me and these two reverend prelates, by which we are enjoined to examine you upon some points of faith, in which your orthodoxy is doubted: we are required to press you to revoke your errors, if you still hold these pernicious opinions; and to cut you off from the church, if you persist, and give you up to the civil power.

Confider, Mr. Latimer, it is not more than twenty years, since these novel opinions got footing amongst us. Till then the authority of the church of Rome was universally acknowledged. By what means it was first questioned in England; and on what unjustifiable motives a schism was occasioned, I might easily shew at large—but I spare the dead. Let it suffice, that the nation having long sought rest in a multiplicity of new inventions, and found none, hath again submitted itself to its mother-church; and by one unanimous act, the result of penitence and contrition, hath atoned for its apostacy. Why then should you oppose the unanimity of a whole people? Confess your fault, and unite your penitence with theirs. It hath been a common error, let it be a general humiliation. Among such numbers, the shame of each individual will be lost. Come then in peace, for we will kindly receive you into the bosom of that church, whose authority, derived from the first apostle, depends on scriptures, fathers, and councils; that church, within which there can be no error, and without which, there can be no salvation.

Let me then, in the spirit of charity, beseech you to accept this offered mercy. Let me even implore you not to reduce us to the fatal necessity of cutting you off from the church; and leaving you to the vengeance of the civil power. Spare yourself: accelerate not your death: consider the condition of your soul: remember, it is the cause, not the death, that maketh the martyr. Humble yourself: captivate your understanding: subdue your reason: submit yourself to the determination of the church: and for God's sake, force us not to do all we may do; but let us rest in what we have done."

Here the bishop pausing, Mr. Latimer stood up, and thanked him for his gentle treatment of him; but at the same time assured him, how vain it was to expect from him any acknowledgment of the pope. He did not believe, he said, that any such jurisdiction had been given to the see of Rome, nor had the bishops of Rome behaved as if their power had been from God. He then quoted a popish book, which had lately been written, to shew how grosly the papists would misrepresent scripture: and concluded with saying, that he thought the clergy had nothing to do with temporal power, nor ought ever to be intrusted with it: and that their commission from their master, in his opinion, extended no farther than to the discharge of their pastoral functions.

To this the bishop of Lincoln replied, "That he thought his stile not quite so decent as it might be; and that as to the book which he quoted, he knew nothing of it."

At this the old bishop seemed to express his surprize, and told him, that although he did not know the author of it, yet it was written by a person of name, the bishop of Gloucester.

This produced some mirth among the audience, as the bishop of Gloucester sat then upon the bench. That prelate, finding himself thus publicly challenged, rose up, and addressing himself to Mr. Latimer, paid him some compliments upon his learning, and then spoke in vindication of his book. But his zeal carrying him too far, the bishop of Lincoln interrupting him, said, "We came not here, my lord, to dispute with Mr. Latimer, but to take his answer to certain articles, which shall be proposed to him."

These articles were much the same as those, on which he had been brought to dispute the year before. They were accordingly read, and Mr. Latimer answered them all as he then did; at the same time protesting, which protestation he begged might be registered, that, notwithstanding his answers to the pope's commissioners, he by no means acknowledged the authority of the pope. The notaries having taken down his answers and protestation, the bishop of Lincoln told him, "That as far as he could, he would shew lenity to him: that the answers which he had now given in, should not be prejudicial to him; but that he should be called upon the next morning, when he might make what alterations he pleased; and that he hoped in God, he would then find him in a better temper." To this the old bishop answered, "That he begged, they would do with him then just what they pleased, and that he might not trouble them, nor they him another day; that as to his opinions, he was fixed in them; and that any respite would be needless." The bishop, however, told him, that he must appear the next morning; and then dissolved the assembly.

Accordingly, the next morning, the commissioners sitting in the same form, he was brought in: and when the tumult was composed, the bishop of Lincoln told him, that although he might justly have proceeded to judgment against him the day before, especially as he himself had required it; yet he could not help postponing it one day longer. "In hopes, said he, Sir, that you might reason yourself into a better way of thinking, and at length embrace, what we all so much desire, that mercy, which our holy church now, for the last time, offereth to you."

"Alas! my lord, answered Mr. Latimer, your indulgence is to no purpose. When a man is convinced of a truth, even to deliberate is unlawful. I am fully resolved against the church of Rome; and once for all, my answer is, I never will embrace its communion. If you urge me farther, I will reply as St. Cyprian did, on a like occasion. He stood before his judges, upon a charge of heresy: and being asked which were more probably of the church of Christ, he and his party, who were every where despised, or they, his judges, who were every where in esteem; he answered resolutely, "That Christ had decided that point, when he mentioned it as a mark of his disciples, that they should take up their cross and follow him." If this then, my lords, be one of the characteristics of the Christian church, whether shall we denominate by that name, the church of Rome, which hath always been a persecutor, or that small body of christians, which is persecuted by it?"

"You mention, Sir, replied Lincoln, with a bad grace, your cause and St. Cyprian's together: they are wholly different."

"No, my lord, answered the old bishop, his was the word of God, and so is mine."

But the bishop of Lincoln, not caring to have this argument moved any farther, replied, "That he exceeded his commission in giving leave for any reasoning or debates: that he had granted this indulgence, in hopes of its success; but observing a contrary effect, he would not, he said, trespass any longer upon the patience of his audience, by these unprofitable altercations." He proceeded, therefore, immediately to take Mr. Latimer's final answer to the articles; which he gave as he had done before; and accompanied with the same protestation.

The notaries having now closed the books, the bishop of Lincoln, who through the whole of this cruel business, had acted with as much humanity, rather than decency, as was possible, once more pressed Mr. Latimer in a very pathetic manner to retract his opinion: but being answered by a steady negative, he at length passed sentence upon him.

Mr. Latimer then asked him, whether there laid any appeal from this judgment? "To whom, said the bishop of Lincoln, would you appeal?" "To the next general council, answered Mr. Latimer, that shall be regularly assembled!" "It will be a long time, replied the bishop, before Europe will see such a council, as you mean." Having said this, he committed Mr. Latimer to the custody of the mayor, and dissolved the assembly.

On the same day, likewise, sentence was passed on the bishop of London.

The 16th of October, about a fortnight from this time, was fixed for their execution.

In the mean time, as it was feared this affair might occasion some disturbance, the queen wrote to the lord Williams, of Thame, a popular nobleman in those parts, and ordered him to arm a body of the militia, and repair immediately to Oxford.

These preparations, and what others were necessary, being made, the last scene of this tragedy was opened.

SECTION XV.

ON the north-side of the town, near Baliol-college, a spot of ground was chosen for the place of execution. Hither, on the sixteenth, the vice-chancellor of Oxford, and other persons of distinction, appointed for that purpose, repaired early in the morning; and the lord Williams having drawn his guard round the place, the prisoners were sent for.

The bishop of London first entered this dreadful circle, accompanied by the mayor: soon after, bishop Latimer was brought in. The former was dressed in his episcopal habit; the latter, as usual, in his prison-attire. This difference in their dress made a moving contrast, and augmented the concern of the spectators: the bishop of London shewing what they had before been; bishop Latimer, what they were now reduced to.

While they stood before the stake, about to ••epare themselves for the fire, they were informed, they must first hear a sermon: and soon after, Dr. Smith, of whom mention hath already been made, ascended a pulpit, prepared for that purpose, and preached on these words of St. Paul, "Though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing? In his discourse he treated the two bishops with great inhumanity; aspersing both their characters and tenets.

The sermon being ended, the bishop of London was beginning to say something in defence of himself, when the vice-chancellor, starting up suddenly from his seat, ran towards him, and stopping his mouth with his hand, told him, "That if he was going to recant, he should have leave: but he should be permitted in nothing farther." The bishop thus checked, looking round, with a noble air, cried out, "We commit our cause then to almighty God."

Immediately an officer stepped up, and acquainted them, "That at their leisure they might now make ready for the stake."

The attention of the spectators at length burst into tears, when they saw these two venerable men now preparing for death. When they considered, as Mr. Fox observes, their preferments, the places of honour they held in the commonwealth, the favour they stood in with their princes, their great learning, and greater piety, they were overwhelmed with sorrow to see so much dignity, so much honour, so much estimation, so many godly virtues, the study of so many years, and so much excellent learning, about to be consumed in one moment.

Mr. Latimer having thrown off the old gown which was wrapped about him, appeared in a shroud, prepared for the purpose; and "whereas before, says Mr. Fox, he seemed a withered and crooked old man, he now stood bolt upright, as comely a father, as one might lightly behold."

Being thus ready, he recommended his soul to God, and delivered himself to the executioner; saying to the bishop of London, "We shall this day, my lord, light such a candle in England, as shall never be extinguished."

But I will draw a veil over the conclusion of this shocking scene; and only add, that he went through his last sufferings with that composure, and firmness of mind, which nothing but a sound faith, and a good conscience could produce.

Such was the life of Hugh Latimer, bishop of Worcester; one of the leaders of that glorious army of martyrs, who introduced the reformation in England. He had a happy temper; formed on the principles of christian philosophy. Such was his chearfulness, that none of the accidents of life could discompose him. Such was his fortitude, that not even the severest trials could unman him. He had a collected spirit, and on no occasion wanted a resource; he could retire within himself, and hold the world at defiance.

And as danger could not daunt, so neither could ambition allure him. Though conversant in courts, and intimate with princes, he preserved to the last, a rare instance moderation, his primeval plainness.

In his profession he was indefatigable: and that he might bestow as much time as possible on the active part of it, he allowed himself only those hours for his private studies, when the busy world is at rest; constantly rising, at all seasons of the year, by two in the morning.

How conscientious he was in the discharge of the public parts of his office, we have many examples. No man could persuade more forcibly: no man could exert, on proper occasions, a more commanding severity. The wicked, in whatever station, he rebuked with censorian dignity; and awed vice more than the penal laws. He was not esteemed a very learned man; for he cultivated only useful learning; and that, he thought, laid in a very narrow compass. He never engaged in worldly affairs, thinking that a clergyman ought to employ himself only in his profession. Thus he lived rather a good, than what the world calls a great man. He had not those commanding talents, which give superiority in business: but for honesty and sincerity of heart, for true simplicity of manners, for apostolic zeal in the cause of religion, and for every virtue both of a public and private kind, that should adorn the life of a christian, he was eminent and exemplary beyond most men of his own, or of any other time; well deserving that evangelical commendation, "With the testimony of a good conscience, in simplicity and godly sincerity, not with fleshly wisdom, but by the grace of God, he had his conversation in the world."

INDEX.

A.

- ALESSE, a Scotsman of that name, brought by Cromwell into the convocation-house. 70.

- Act: that of the six articles. 85.

- Addison, Mr.: his commendation of Mr. Latimer. 172.

B.

- BIlney, Thomas: one of the earliest reformers at Cambridge. 4.—his intimacy with Mr. Latimer. 5.—cited before bishop Tunstal. 21.—recants. 22.—his behaviour afterwards at Cambridge. 23.—goes down into Norfolk. ibid.—where he suffers martyrdom. 25.—his character aspersed, and defended. ibid.

- Buckenham, Dr.: his opposition to Mr. Latimer. 8.—his confutation. 10.

- Barnes, Dr.: a favourer of Mr. Latimer. 12.

- Butts, Dr.: his journey to Cambridge, and application to Mr. Latimer. 42.—his regard for him. 43.—his advice to him. 45.

- Boleyn, Ann: favours Mr. Latimer, and recommends him to a bishopric. 57.

- Burnet, bishop: speaks slightly of Mr. Latimer. 74.

- Bonner, bishop: his opposition to the duke of Somerset. 94.—his character. 143.—his speech in council. 179.

- Bishops: their vices lashed by Mr. Latimer. 109, 111, 112.

C.

- CAmbridge, university of: it's state at this time. 14.—Clergy, popish: their character at this time. 13, &c. 100.—their vices lashed by Mr. Latimer. 106.

- Cromwell, Lord: an account of his life, and fortunes. 43.—obtains a benefice for Mr. Latimer. 44.—recommends him to a bishopric. 57.—his behaviour in the convocation-house. 69.—his death, and character. 91.

- Convocation: that of 1536. 61.—its proceedings. 69.

- Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury: his character. 62.—his noble stand against the act of the six articles. 86.—an instance of his resolution. 145.—examined. 160.—his execution respited. 183.

- Court: character of that of king Edward VI. 102.—

- Conference: one held between bishop Latimer, and bishop Ridley. 152.—

- Chedsey, Dr.: his character, 159.—sent to dispute with Mr. Latimer. 151.

D.

- DIvorce: that of Henry VIII. 16.

- Duelling censured. 116.

- Dudley, duke of Northumberland, his character. 138.—his practices. 139, 140.—success. 141. and ruin. 142.

- Disputation: an account of that between the papists, and the bishops Cranmer and Ridley. 164.

E.

- EDward VI. succeeds to the crown. 93.—his character. 94.—freely reproved by Mr. Latimer, in his sermons, every where. 105, &c.

G.

- GArdiner: his dissimulation and address. 78, &c.—his opposition to the duke of Somerset. 94.—his character. 143.—his designs to restore popery. 149.—his speech in council. 178.—his intriguing to ruin Pool. 182.

- Grey, lady Jane; her promotion 141; and fall. 142.

H.

- HENRY VIII: his divorce. 16.—writes against the protestants. 17.—persecutes them. ibid.—His proclamation against an English Bible. 29.—his generous behaviour to Mr. Latimer. 37.—breaks with the pope. 39.—his supremacy established. 41.—gives Mr. Latimer a bishopric. 57.—his character. 78.—his death. 93.

- Hubberdin: an impudent railer at Mr. Latimer. 48.

- Heath, bishop of Worcester: his folly. 96.—becomes a protestant. 97.

- Homilies: Mr. Latimer concerned in composing them. 100.—

J.

- JUdges: their vices lashed by Mr. Latimer. 109.—110.—113.

L.

- LAtimer, Hugh; his birth. 1.—an account of his father. 2.—sent to Cambridge. 3.—bred a papist. ib.—his zeal. ib.—embraces the doctrine of the reformers. 6.—his sermons before the university. 7.—opposed by the orthodox clergy. 8.—silenced by the bishop of Ely. 12. complained of at court. 14.—tried before bishop Tunstal. 22.—his character of Mr. Bilney. 26.—his bold letter to king Henry VIII. 30.—is carried to court by Dr. Butts. 43.—taken notice of by lord Cromwell. 45.—who gives him a benefice. ib.—meets with great opposition. 47.—vindicates himself. 48.—accused before the bishop of London. 49.—obeys the archbishop's citation. 50.—his letter upon the occasion. 50, &c.—his examination. 54.—writes to the archbishop. 55.—rescued from his enemies. 57.—made bishop of Worcester. 58.—exemplary in his station. 59, &c.—his speech to the convocation. 63.—attacked there by the papists. 71.—repairs to his diocese. 73.—his present to the king. 74.—redresses an injury. 75.—called up to parliament. 77.—accused of sedition. 81.—resigns his bishopric. 88.—sent to the tower. 92.—released by king Edward. 96.—refuses to be reinstated in his bishopric. 97.—retires to Lambeth: his employment there. 98.—engaged in composing the homilies. 100.—preaches before the king. 105, &c.—defended against a calumny. 135, &c.—cited before the council. 147.—sent to the tower. 148.—sent to Oxford to dispute. 150.—examined before the queen's commissioners. 162.—brought to dispute. 167.—brought to his last trial. 184.—his execution. 193.

- Lincoln, bishop of: his speech to Mr. Latimer. 184.

M.

- MORE, Sir Thomas: an instance of his bigotry. 25.

- Milton, John: censures Mr. Latimer unjustly. 138.

- Mary, princess: succeeds to the crown. 142.—her difficulties. 175.

P.

- POPE: his dissimulation about king Henry's divorce. 16.—his power in England often questioned, and abridged. 40.

- Parliament: that of 1536. 61.—that of 1539. 77.—interferes in Mr. Latimer's favour. 97.—cancels king Edward's laws. 176.

- Persecution of protestants. 17, 29, 88, 91, 180.

- Patrons of livings: a story of one. 115.

- Pool, cardinal: his character. 176.—his arrival in England. 177.—his advice in council. 178.

R.

- REligion: its state at this time in England. 15.

- Reformation; its progress, 71, &c. 95.

- Robin Hood: story about him. 122.

- Restitution, preached by Mr. Latimer. 131.

- Ridley, Dr.: his character. 150.—his disputation with the papists. 164.—condemned to die. 191.—his behaviour at his death. 194.

S.

- SUpplication of the beggars: a tract so intitled, gives great offence. 28.

- Somerset, duke of: his character. 93.

- Sermons: an account of Mr. Latimer's. 104.

- Supremacy of the church of Rome: the popish defence of it ridiculed. 119.

- Sudley, Lord: his character. 135.—Mr. Latimer slandered on his account. ibid.

- Smith, Dr.: his character. 158.—his sermon at the execution of Mr. Latimer. 193.

T.

- TUnstal, Cuthbert: his character. 19.—his humanity to Mr. Bilney, and Mr. Latimer. 21.—his opposition to the duke of Somerset. 94.

- Tresham, Dr.: his character. 158.—sent to dispute with Mr. Latimer. 151.

V.

- VEnetus: his opposition to Mr. Latimer. 11.

- Visitation: story of one. 122.

W.

- WEST, Dr.: his opposition to Mr. Latimer. 12.

- Wicliff: one of the earliest reformers in England. 15.

- Wolsey, cardinal: his character. 18.—cites Mr. Latimer. 22.

- Warham, archbishop: his character. 19.—cites Mr. Latimer. 49.

- Worcester: Mr. Latimer made bishop of that see. 58.

- Warwickshire: story of a gentleman of that country. 75.

- Writing at a low ebb at this time. 104.

- Weston, Dr.: appointed to manage a disputation, on the part of the papists. 151.—his character. 157.

- Williams, Lord: sent to Oxford. 192.

FINIS.

Just published by the AUTHOR of this Volume, The Second Edition, in One Volume, Octavo, Price bound 4s.

THE LIFE of BERNARD GILPIN.

Lately published, in 4 Vols. Octavo, Price bound 1 l.

AN ESSAY ON THE PROPER LESSONS Appointed by the Liturgy of the Church of ENGLAND, To be read on Sundays and chief Festivals throughout the Year, as they are directed by her Table of proper Lessons.

To which are prefixed, PREFACES, pointing out the Design of the respective LESSONS.

Together with Such Reflections on the several Passages contained therein 〈◊〉 may serve to enforce the Duties and Doctrines prepound•• to our Faith and Practice.

And also some explanatory NOTES.

The Whole intended for assisting the Judgment and Devotion of the serious Members of our Church in Hearing and Reading the said LESSONS.

He that hath an Ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the Churches. Rev. iii. 22.

Hear the Church. Matt. xviii. 17.

To the Law, and to the Prophets. Isa. viii. 20.

Printed for JOHN and JAMES RIVINGTON.

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The life of Hugh Latimer, Bishop of Worcester. By William Gilpin, M.A.

Gilpin, William, 1724-1804.

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— The life of Hugh Latimer, Bishop of Worcester. By William Gilpin, M.A., Gilpin, William, 1724-1804.. [2],197,[7]p. ; 8⁰. London :: printed by Charles Rivington, for John and James Rivington,. 1755.. [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT99966.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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