History of the Reformation in Europe in the Time of Calvin, Vol. 8 (of 8)


D’Aubigné’s History of the Reformation, in the Sixteenth Century. 5 vols. 6.00

D’Aubigné’s History of the Reformation in the Time of Calvin. 8 vols. 16.00

‘D’Aubigné’s History of the Reformation is in all respects one of the grandest literary and historical works of this or any age. The author’s brilliant genius imparted to its pages all the fascination of a romance, while his research, study, and sound judgment have invested it with an authority that has stood the test, in its most important parts, of more than a quarter of a century’s criticism.’—N. Y. Observer.

‘Thirty years have now passed since we read in our student days the first three volumes which the Carters had just brought in an American dress. The name of D’Aubigné was soon on every tongue. The same clear, forcible style characterizes this latest volume, albeit maturer and richer, the same love for the Gospel, and the same grasp of the truth of history. The new generation, in whose presence Rome is demanding, that the world shall move backward three hundred and fifty years, may do well to study the volumes of this author.’—North Christian Advocate.

‘D’Aubigné is a clear, incisive writer, and all of his assertions are supported with copious notes that make the work invaluable for controversial purposes. As a simple, historical narrative it is unequalled.’—Chronicle.

‘Many of our readers will remember the real pleasure and profit with which they read the History of the Reformation as it first appeared from the pen of Dr. D’Aubigné. He had a new style, making every scene and character so lifelike and striking as to impress the great points upon the mind, and impress the reader for life.’—Christian Instructor.

‘There is a fascination about D’Aubigné’s style that has given to his work an uncommon popularity. While he is master of the art of expression, he has entered so fully into the spirit of the great struggle he records, and has so completely identified himself with the efforts and aims of its heroic leaders, as to add to the narrative of the historian, the enthusiasm of a chief actor in the scene.’—Episcopal Methodist.

‘Dr. Merle d’Aubigné has earned the first place among the French historians of the Reformation.’—Prof. Bonifas.


New York.

Reformation in Europe





‘Les choses de petite durée ont coutume de devenir fanées, quand elles ont passé leur temps.

‘Au règne de Christ, il n’y a que le nouvel homme qui soit florissant, qui ait de la vigueur, et dont il faille faire cas.’






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With this volume we complete the publication of the work of M. Merle d’Aubigné on the history of the Reformation. The ten volumes published by the author himself and the three posthumous volumes are the fruit of his long labors, begun in 1817, and continued almost uninterruptedly until 1872.

It was in 1817, immediately after his ordination to the ministry, and in the course of a visit to Germany undertaken to perfect his theological studies, that M. Merle d’Aubigné conceived the project of writing this history. Germany was at that time celebrating at Eisenach the third centenary of the Reformation. The people were in a state of great excitement. Humiliated by long-continued oppression and irritated by severe suffering, Germany, which had so long been the theatre and the victim of the sanguinary wars of the Empire, had at length risen with an impetuous energy and a fervor of feeling which were irresistible, and had powerfully contributed to the overthrow of the imperial warrior who had appeared to be invincible. Rescued thus from foreign rule, she had fallen again under the equally heavy yoke of her former masters; and she was now turning her eyes towards Luther, the spiritual liberator of modern times. The reformer’s name was on every tongue; and Merle d’Aubigné encountered on his way the crowds of young German students who were journeying to the Wartburg. On the eve of the celebration[vi] he felt an overpowering desire to take part in it. He therefore followed the throng, and after travelling all night came at daybreak within sight of the castle famous as the scene of Luther’s confinement. A novel spectacle here presented itself. The squares and streets of Eisenach were filled with a motley crowd, chiefly composed of young men. Their long hair falling upon their shoulders, their thick, untrimmed beards, their velvet cloaks reaching to the knees, their caps adorned with feathers or foliage, their broad embroidered collars, their banner proudly borne aloft, surrounded by its defenders who, with outstretched arms and drawn swords, formed its bodyguard, the name of Luther the while resounding in all directions—this spectacle, the antique costumes, the usages of a by-gone age, all contributed to transport the traveller in imagination into the midst of the scenes of three centuries ago.

The young Genevese, however, soon withdrew from these noisy scenes, from the political and social harangues, the excitement and the tumult. Longing for quiet, he traversed with a guide the deserted rooms of the castle.

‘This then,’ he murmured, ‘this is the place where, after the stormy scenes of the Diet of Worms, Luther was able to say, “At last I am at rest.” Here was passed the captivity of the knight George. This is the table at which he used to sit; that the window from which he looked out upon the landscape around. Here it was that he gave himself up to profound meditation, mingled with regret that he had consented to withdraw from the battle-field, and with a distressing fear lest the Pope should take advantage of his absence to crush the infant Church. In this room he used to read the Bible in Hebrew and in Greek; here[vii] he translated the Psalms and the New Testament, and here his fervent prayers rose to heaven.'[1] The great movement of the sixteenth century thus presented itself to the young man’s imagination in its intimate details, which are far more thrilling than its external aspects. He formed the resolution to write its history; and a few weeks later (November 23, 1817) he sketched in the following terms the plan which he proposed to follow:—

‘I should like to write a history of the Reformation. I should wish this history to be a work of learning, and to set forth facts at present unknown. It should be profound, and should distinctly assign the causes and the results of this great movement; it should be interesting, and should make known the authors of the transformation by means of their letters, their works, and their words; and it should introduce the reader into the bosom of their families and into their closets. Finally I should wish that this history should be thoroughly Christian, and calculated to give an impulse to true religion. I would show by the evidence of facts that the aim of the Reformation was not so much to destroy as to build up—not so much to overthrow that which was in excess, superstition, as to impart that which had ceased to exist, the new life, and holiness, the essence of Christianity, and to revive or rather to create faith. I shall begin to collect materials, and I will dedicate my history to the Protestant churches of France.'[2]

Thus, in his youthful dreams, did the pious descendant of the refugees of the sixteenth century sketch out the leading features of the monumental work, to the execution of which he thenceforward uninterruptedly[viii] devoted himself. At this day when, by means of many collections, innumerable documents relating to the Reformation have been placed within the reach of all, it is not easy to imagine the amount of labor and research which it cost Merle d’Aubigné to enter as he did into intimacy with the reformers and to master their most secret thoughts. Eighteen years had passed away before he was prepared, in 1835, to present to the public the first volume of his work.

In a preface worthy of the subject, he said:—’It is not the history of a party that I purpose writing; but the history of one of the greatest revolutions that was ever wrought in the condition of the human race; the history of a mighty impulse imparted to the world three centuries ago, the results of which are still universally recognized. The history of the Reformation is not identical with the history of Protestantism. In the former every thing bears the impress of a regeneration of humanity, of a social and religious transformation which has its source in God; while in the latter we too frequently observe a considerable falling away from first principles, the action of party spirit, sectarian tendencies, and the stamp of petty personalities. The history of Protestantism might possess interest for Protestants alone; the history of the Reformation is for all Christians, nay, rather for all men.’

We are thus made acquainted by the author’s own statement with the purpose which he had conceived; and it is for the reader to judge how far that purpose has been accomplished. This judgment has indeed been already pronounced. It declares that the work of Merle d’Aubigné, everywhere learned and accurate, animated and attractive, approaches in some passages the very perfection of literary art. Amongst these[ix] passages are the pleasant and lively pages in the first volumes devoted to the youth of Luther, and in the posthumous volumes the chapters of a more serious and severe character devoted to Calvin and his work at Geneva.

Little is wanting to the completion of the monument erected by Merle d’Aubigné. It is to be regretted that we can not follow John Knox in Scotland, or Marnix in the Netherlands, to the full accomplishment of their work. In these countries the temple door is closed before us just as our feet are pressing the threshold. To complete his history the author would have required two more years of life and of labor; and this was denied him. Every thing, however, that is essential to the history of the Reformation is narrated in these thirteen volumes.

Those portions of the work which have been most recently published are not in all cases the latest written. Some of them were written long ago and have never been retouched. It is not to be supposed that the author would have published these without alteration. M. Merle d’Aubigné’s method of procedure in composition was as follows:—First, he would make a summary study of an important period, and rapidly sketch its history; next, he would refer to the original sources, collecting around him all the documents which he could discover, and sometimes making a long journey for the purpose of consulting a manuscript preserved in some library. He would then plunge again into his theme, familiarizing himself thoroughly with its form and its color, so as to make it real and present to his mind, and see it as it were with his own eyes. And, finally, he would rewrite the story, completing and giving life to his narratives, and depicting the scenes for the reader as he[x] had already done for himself. The result of this process was an entirely new work.

A third and even a fourth recasting was not seldom undertaken before the author was satisfied: so vast and so complex was that spiritual movement which he had undertaken to describe, so numerous and almost inexhaustible were the documents of all kinds which he continued to examine throughout his life.

Some of the later chapters, and particularly that which relates to Germany, had not been subjected to this revision. The editor, however, has not felt himself at liberty to suppress these chapters, both on account of their intrinsic value, and because they contain information not accessible to general readers. We hope that they will be read with interest and profit.

The editor wishes here to express his thanks to Mr. Cates for his valuable assistance as translator of the last three volumes of the work into English.

The editor has now fulfilled what he considers a duty to the Christian public, by presenting to them this last volume of a work the composition of which was not only the principal occupation, but also the principal enjoyment of ‘the noble life, consecrated to toil,'[3] of J. H. Merle d’Aubigné.



This closing volume of the ‘History of the Reformation’ is enriched with a fac-simile of the famous Indulgence issued by Pope Leo X., the sale of which by Tetzel in Germany, in 1517, provoked the bold and memorable denunciation of the traffic by Luther in the ninety-five theses which he affixed to the church door of Wittenberg. The fac-simile is taken from a copy of the Indulgence very recently acquired by the Trustees of the British Museum. So far as is known, no fac-simile has been published before, nor has any previously printed copy possessed the merit of complete accuracy. It has therefore been thought worth while to place an absolutely exact reproduction of so important an historical document within reach of the readers of Merle d’Aubigné’s work, although, by the accident of its recent acquisition, it can only appear in the last instead of the first volume, its most appropriate place.

At the request of the publishers an interesting statement has been contributed illustrative of one passage[xii] in the Bull of Indulgence hitherto somewhat obscure but of remarkable significance. (See Appendix.)

A General Index to the eight volumes of this series—The Reformation in the Time of Calvin—has been specially prepared by the Translator for the English Edition; and it is hoped that this Index will be found sufficiently copious, detailed, and accurate.




Preface v
Torquemada—The Alumbrados—Lutheran Books in Spain—John d’Avila—The secret of his eloquence—His manner of speaking of the Saviour—His pastoral activity—His influence over St. Theresa—Sancha de Carile—Agitation of men’s minds—The first Spanish Reformer, Rodrigo de Valerio—His conversion—His asceticism—His study of the Scriptures—John de Vergara and his brothers—A Theological Disputation—Peter de Lerma—His departure from Spain—Departure of Louis of Cadena—Pursuit of John d’Avila—Alfonso Virves—His imprisonment—His rescue from the Inquisition by Charles V. 1
Rodrigo de Valerio—John Egidius, a scholastic preacher—Valerio and Egidius—Conversion of Egidius—Trial and release of Valerio—Eloquence of Egidius—Ponce de la Fuente and Vargas—Intimacy of the Three Friends—Their harmonious activity—Uncontroversial preaching—Their influence—Opposition—Advance of Spiritual Religion—Eloquence of Ponce de la Fuente—Desire of Charles V. to hear him—Attached to the Emperor’s household—Death of Vargas—Egidius left alone at Seville—Condemnation of Rodrigo de Valerio—His Death in Prison 21
The Three Brothers Enzinas—Their character and their studies—Their friendship with George Cassander—Their reading of Melanchthon’s Works—Francis Enzinas—Translation of New Testament—Friendship with Hardenberg—Letter to Alasco—Visit to Paris—James Enzinas—A martyr at Paris—Heroism of Claude Lepeintre—John Enzinas—Conversion and zeal of San Romano—His Letters to Charles V.—His arrest—His indignation—His release—Journey to Ratisbon—Interviews with the Emperor—Second arrest—In the Emperor’s suite—His sufferings and his steadfastness 38
Enzinas at Louvain—The Spanish New Testament—Enzinas at Antwerp—The Printing begun—Debates on the Title—Completion of the Work—Pedro de Soto, Confessor to Charles V.—His instigation to persecution—Abuse of the Confessional—Dedication of Enzinas’s Work to the Emperor—Enzinas at Brussels—His feeling in the Emperor’s presence—Presentation of the Spanish New Testament to the Emperor—Reply of Charles V.—The Book submitted to the judgment of De Soto—Enzinas in the Convent of the Dominicans—The Doctrines of De Soto—Treason—A Snare—The Mask dropped by De Soto—Argument of Enzinas—Excitement in the Convent—Arrest of Enzinas—His Dejection in the Prison—Consoled by Giles Tielmans—The Examination—The Defence—Intercession—Spiritual Consolations—A Preacher in Bonds—Hopes deceived—A Horrible Persecution—The Queen’s Chaplain—His Trial and Flight—Escape of Enzinas—The walls of Brussels cleared—His arrival at Mechlin—At Antwerp—A legend—Another legend—Correspondence with Calvin—Enzinas at Wittenberg—James Enzinas at Rome—His arrest, trial, and condemnation—His martyrdom—Grief of Francis 58
Studies of Diaz at Paris—His friendship with James Enzinas—Visit to Geneva—Representative of the Reformed at Ratisbon—Meeting with Malvenda—Discussions—Threats—Denunciations—Alonzo Diaz in Germany—His interview with Malvenda—Discovery of his brother’s place of refuge—Intercourse between the two brothers—Hypocrisy of Alonzo—Fratricide 99
Bartholomew Carranza—Don Domingo de Roxas—Confession of the True Doctrine by de Roxas—Augustine Cazalla—Don Carlos de Seso—The Marchioness of Alcagnices—Carranza’s Progress—The Reformation spread by his Books—Carranza, Primate of Spain—His imprisonment—San Romano in Spain—Led to execution—His glorious death—The Martyrs of the Reformation—Death of San Romano not fruitless—Growing boldness of the Evangelicals 112
(Born 1479-Died 1555.)
A shameful Captivity—Joanna’s Youth—Her Marriage—Her Opposition to the Catholic Rites—Isabella’s Scheme for excluding her from the Throne—Intrigues of Ferdinand—Meeting of Ferdinand and Philip—Conspiracy of the two Princes—Death of Philip—A Mournful Journey—Confinement of Joanna at Tordesillas—Her aversion to Romish Ceremonies—Ill treatment—Bitter Complaints—Was Joanna a Lutheran?—Her Christian Death—A Victim of the gloomiest Fanaticism 126
Birth of Edward VI.—Death of the Queen—A new wife sought by the King—Relations of Henry VIII. with the Swiss—English students in Switzerland—A Letter to Calvin—Works of Swiss Theologians—The King’s opinions on these Works—Reginald Pole—Made Cardinal—Legate beyond the Alps—Anger of Henry VIII.—Pole in France and Belgium—Failure of his Mission—His return to Rome—German Divines in England—Protracted discussions—Ill-will of some of the Bishops—Fruitless attempts at conciliation—Departure of the German Doctors—Melanchthon’s Letter to Henry VIII. 140
Gardiner—His return to England—Instigation to persecution—Sampson, Bishop of Chichester—A Conspiracy against the Reformation—A return to old usages—The Minister John Nicholson—His Treatise on the Lord’s Supper—His Appeal to the King—Appearance before the King—Examination—His Confession of Evangelical Doctrine—His resolute Declaration on the Sacrament—Cranmer’s Answer—The King’s anger—Nicholson condemned to be burnt—His Execution—Flatteries addressed to the King 158
Negotiations for the King’s Marriage—Their failure—Printing of the Bible at Paris—The Printing stopped—Completion of the Work in London—Divisions—Attempted Compromise—Its failure—The King’s fears—The Six Articles—Cranmer’s Opposition—Latimer’s Resignation of his See—The King’s advances to Cranmer, Cromwell, and Norfolk—Cranmer’s Time-serving—Five Hundred sent to Prison—Feeling in Germany—The Articles condemned at Wittenberg and Geneva—Melanchthon’s Letter to the King of England—The King appeased—Puerile Games 174
Anne of Cleves—Praises uttered of her—Her simple character—Her arrival in England—The King’s disappointment—His desire to get rid of her—His fear to break off the engagement—The Marriage celebrated at Greenwich—Henry’s Complaint to Charles V.—Ill-will of Charles—The King’s distrust—Preaching of the Gospel ordered by Cromwell—Gardiner’s Sermon—Barnes’s Sermon—His boldness—His imprisonment—Numerous editions of the Bible 192
Cromwell threatened—Loaded with honors by the King—The King’s intention—The King’s letter to Cromwell—Arrest of Cromwell—Foolish charges—The real motive of the blow—Cromwell abandoned by all his Friends—Defended by Cranmer alone—Cranmer’s Letter to the King—The Bill of Attainder—Heresy—The Accuser—No Trial—The Examination—The Bill carried in both Houses—Condemnation—Cromwell’s Letter to the King—The King’s hesitation—Catherine Howard—The Queen sent away—Cromwell on the Scaffold—His profession of Faith—His Confession and Prayer—His Death—His Character 205
Singular impartiality—A Procession of Martyrs, three Evangelists, three Papists—Preparations for Divorce of the Queen— A shameful Comedy—The King’s hypocrisy—Convocation of the Clergy—The Marriage declared void—The Divorce accepted by Anne of Cleves 225
Marriage of the King with Catherine Howard—His return to Catholicism—Royal infallibility—Catholic reaction—Bonner, Bishop of London—A young Martyr—The Prisons filled—The King praised by Francis I.—Martyrdom of a Reader of the Bible—Conspiracy against Cranmer—The Archbishop’s firmness—Charges against him—The King’s hesitation—His determination to save him—Cranmer before the Privy Council—The King’s Ring—Cranmer’s Enemies confounded—The King’s love for the Queen—Terrible Revelations—Guilt of the Queen—Cranmer’s Visit to her—Frenzy of the Queen—Cranmer’s Emotion—Condemnations and Executions—The Queen Executed—Her Guilt undoubted—Convocation of the Clergy—A sharp blow struck at Convocation by Cranmer—Remarkable Progress of the Reformation 234
Richard Hilles, a London Merchant—His Studies and Readings—Cranmer’s cautious promotion of the Reformation—Amendment in Doctrine—Catherine Parr—Her Character—Another Plot against Cranmer—His Forgiveness of his Enemies—Several Martyrs—Marbeck’s English Concordance—Henry’s Complaints against France—His Alliance with Charles V.—War with France—Sympathies of the Italians—Persecutors punished 258
Session of Parliament—The King’s Speech—The Rod and the Royal School-master—Anne Askew—Her Trial—Examinations—Her Release—Again Imprisoned—Her steadfastness—Her Discretion—In Prison—Condemned to be Burnt—A Royal Proclamation—Anne Askew tortured by the Lord Chancellor—Led to Execution—Death of the Martyrs—Approaching triumph of their Doctrines 271
The Queen’s piety—Her rash zeal—Conversations with the King—The King offended—Conspiracy of the Catholic Leaders—The King’s distrust—A Prosecution ordered—The Bill of Indictment—The Queen unsuspecting—The Indictment in her hands—Her Distress—Her Interview with the King—Her Declaration—Rescue—Astonishment of her Enemies—Her Forgiveness of them 284
(1546-January 1547.)
Disgrace of Gardiner—Two Parties at the Court—The Howards and the Seymours—Ambition of the Howards—Proceedings against Norfolk and Surrey—The King’s impatience—Searches—A Divided House—Execution of Surrey—Humble Appeal of Norfolk—Inflexibility of the King—Last Hours of the King—His Death—His Will—Henry VIII. to be condemned as a Man, a King, and a Christian 297
The Reformation a Resurrection—Pretended Unity of Rome—All kinds of Progress produced by the Reformation—John Bugenhagen—His Conversion—Named ‘Pomeranus’—The Reformation embraced by German Towns—Magdeburg, Brunswick, Hamburg—Pomeranus at Hamburg—Lübeck 311
The Princes of Anhalt—Duke George—His Anxieties—His Resolution—Luther’s Letter—Prince Joachim—Würtemberg—Westphalia—Paderborn—Hermann, Elector of Cologne—Peace of Nürnberg 322
Melchior Hoffmann—Bernard Rottmann—Rottmann’s Marriage—John Matthisson of Haarlem—John Bockkold of Leyden—Bernard Knipperdolling—Disorders at Munster—The Visionaries in power—Their Enemies expelled—Destruction of Books and Works of Art—John of Leyden in power—Terror 331
The King of the Universe—Pride and Luxury—A Supper—An Apostolate—Cruelty 342
Siege and Famine—Vain Efforts—The Assault—Capture of Munster—Executions—Luther’s Opinion—Three Causes of the disorder—The Finger-post 347
(February 18, 1546.)
Luther at Eisleben—Sense of his approaching end—Serenity of his Faith—His last testimony—His last breath 353
Transcript of ‘Indulgence’ of Leo X. 359
GENERAL INDEX to Volumes I.—VIII. 369







The Church of Spain had long preserved its independence with regard to the papacy. It was at the time of the ambitious and monopolizing Hildebrand that it began to lose it.

At the period of the Reformation it had been subject to the pope for more than four hundred years, and great obstacles were opposed to its deliverance. The mass of the people were given to superstition; the Spanish character was resolute to the degree of obstinacy; the clergy reigned supreme; the Inquisition had just been armed with new terrors by Ferdinand and Isabella; and the peninsular situation of the country seemed inevitably to isolate it from those lands in which the Reformation was triumphant.

Nevertheless many minds were, up to a certain point, prepared for evangelical reform. In almost every class the Inquisition excited the liveliest discontent. Towards[2] the close of the fifteenth century, a man was often to be met with traversing Spain, surrounded by a guard of fifty mounted attendants and two hundred foot-soldiers. This man, whose name was Torquemada, was the terror of the people; and consequently in his progresses he displayed the greatest distrust, imagining that every one was bent on assassinating him. On his arrival at any place, when he sat down to table, he trembled lest the dishes brought to him should have been poisoned. For this reason, before partaking of any food, he used to place before him the horn of a unicorn, to which he attributed the virtue of discovering and even of neutralizing poisons. Universal hatred accompanied him to the tomb. Torquemada, the first inquisitor-general, caused eight thousand persons to be put to death, and a hundred thousand to be imprisoned and despoiled of their goods. Whole provinces rose against this horrible tribunal.[4] ‘They steal, they kill, they outrage,’ wrote the chevalier de Cordova, Gonzalo de Ayora, speaking of the inquisitors to the first secretary of King Ferdinand. ‘They care neither for justice nor for God himself.'[5] ‘O unhappy Spain!’ cried Peter Martyr d’Anghiera, councillor for the Indies, in his distress. ‘Mother of so many heroes, how this horrible scourge dishonors thee!'[6]

Meanwhile the universities were being enlightened. Various writings, especially those of Erasmus, were much read; and while doctors and students learned to scrutinize more closely the state of the Church, a spirit of inquiry began to penetrate those ancient institutions. There were, besides, scattered here and there in the towns and in country places, some Christians, called Alumbrados, who sought after an inward light and applied themselves to secret prayer. These pious Mystics were better prepared to receive divine truth.[7]


More than this, political circumstances were favorable to the introduction of the Reformation. Spain was at this time under the same sceptre as Germany and the Netherlands, and the rays of light emanating from the Scriptures could not but reach it. The emperor Charles the Fifth, who was fighting against the Reformation in Germany, was to be the means of bringing it into the country of his very Catholic ancestors. The young Alfonso Valdès, his secretary, who was with him at Brussels in 1520, and afterwards at Worms in 1521, was at first struck with horror at seeing the boldness with which Luther attacked the authority of the pope. But what he saw and heard led him gradually to comprehend the necessity for Reformation. Consequently, when writing from Brussels and Worms to his friend Peter Martyr d’Anghiera, Valdès sorrowfully exclaimed, ‘While the pontiff shuts his eyes and desires to see Luther devoured by the flames, the whole Christian community is near its ruin, unless God save it.'[8]

Books more dangerous to Rome than those of Erasmus reached Spain. A printer of Basel, the very year in which Charles was elected emperor (1519), packed up carefully for transport beyond the Pyrenees some precious merchandise not yet prohibited in the peninsula, because as yet unknown there. It consisted of various Latin works of Luther.[9] In 1520 the ‘Commentary on the Galatians,’ and afterwards other writings of the reformer, were translated into Spanish.[10] The union existing between Spain and the Netherlands had led many Spaniards to settle in the latter country, and it may possibly have been one of these who translated them. It is at least certain that they were printed at Antwerp, and that merchant vessels carried them thence into Spain.


Many noble minds were stirred up and became attentive to what was passing in Germany. Francis de Angelis, provincial of the Order of the Angeli, who had been present at the coronation of the emperor, was still more enlightened than Valdès himself. Being sent back to Spain after the Diet of Worms upon an important mission, he stopped at Basel. There he visited Pellican, and in a conversation which he had with him he showed himself almost in agreement with Luther.[11] All these circumstances arousing the attention of Rome, Leo X. sent (March 20, 1521) two briefs to Spain to demand that the introduction of the books of the German reformer and his partisans into that country should be checked; and Adrian VI., the successor of Leo, called upon the government to assist the Inquisition in the accomplishment of this duty.[12]

But in Spain itself evangelical truth was then preached with earnestness, though not with the fulness, clearness, and purity of the reformers. There was in Andalusia a young priest who from about 1525 preached with extraordinary power. His name was John d’Avila. ‘The fervor,’ says one of his biographers, ‘with which he exerted himself to sow the heavenly seed of the Word of God in the hearts of men was almost incredible.'[13] He strove both to convert souls estranged from God, and to lead those who were converted to go forward courageously in the service of God. He employed no more time in the composition of his morning addresses than he did in delivering them. A long preparation would in his case have been impossible, on account of the numerous engagements which his charity drew upon him from all quarters. ‘The Holy Spirit enlightened him with his light and spoke by his mouth; so that he was obliged to[5] be careful not to extend his discourses too much, so abundant was the source from which they flowed.’

Seeing the great number of souls converted by his word, the question was asked, what was the chief source of his power? Is it, they said, the force of the doctrine, or the fervor of his charity, or the tenderness of his fatherly kindness, joined to ineffable humility and gentleness? He has himself decided this important point, and answered the inquiry. A preacher, struck by D’Avila’s success, and desiring the like for himself, begged him for some advice on preaching, and on the way to render it efficacious. ‘I know no better way,’ he replied, ‘than to love Jesus Christ.’ This is the true science of homiletics.

Jesus Christ and his love was indeed the strength of his eloquence. It was by setting before sinners a dying Jesus that he called them to repentance. ‘We, Lord,’ he cried, ‘have transgressed, and thou bearest the punishment! Our crimes have loaded thee with all kinds of shame, and have caused thee to die upon the cross! Oh! what sinner would not at this sight lament over his sins!'[14] But D’Avila pointed out at the same time in this death a means of salvation. ‘They bind him with cords,’ he said; ‘they buffet him; they crown him with thorns; they nail him on the cross, and he suffers death thereon. If he is thus treated it is because he loved you, and would wash away your sins in his own blood! O Jesus, my Saviour, thou wast not content with these outward sufferings; it has pleased thee to endure also inward pain far surpassing them. Thou hast submitted to the stern decree of thy Father’s justice; thou hast taken upon thee all the sins of the world. O Lamb of God, thou hast borne the burden alone; thou hast sufficed thereto, and hast obtained for us redemption by thy death. We have been made the righteousness of God in thee, and the Father loves us in his well-beloved Son. Let us not[6] be afraid of praising him too much for the entire blotting out of our sins, the privilege bestowed by God on those whom he justifies by the merits of Jesus Christ. This exalts the greatness of those merits which have procured them so much blessedness, although they were so unworthy of it. O Lord, be glorified forever for this.'[15]

Nevertheless, John d’Avila, while he recognized the necessity of justification by the death of Christ, had a less distinct conception of it than the reformers, and gave it a less prominent place in his teaching than they did. It was on its efficacy for sanctification that he especially dwelt. He committed indeed the error of placing love in the chapter of justification, instead of placing it, like the reformers, in that of sanctification, which is its true place. But he could not too much insist on the transformation which must be wrought in the character and life of the Christian. ‘What,’ he cried, ‘is it conceivable that Jesus Christ should wash, purify, and sanctify our souls with his own blood, and that they should still remain unrighteous, defiled, impure?’ … He sometimes employed strange figures to inculcate the necessity of this work. ‘A creature having but the head of a man,’ he said, ‘all the rest of its body being that of a beast, would be considered a horrible monster. It would be no less monstrous, in the sphere of grace, that God who is righteousness and purity itself should have for his members unrighteous, defiled, and corrupt men.'[16]

D’Avila labored not only by his discourses, but likewise by his conversations and letters in promoting the kingdom of God in the souls of men. He was benevolence itself. He consoled the afflicted, encouraged the timid, aroused the cowardly, stirred up the lukewarm, fortified the weak, sustained those who were tempted, sought to raise up sinners after their falls, and humbled[7] the proud. His letters are mostly far superior to those of Fénélon. They are at least much more evangelical.[17] ‘I tell you this,’ he wrote to some friends in affliction, ‘only in order to assure you that Jesus Christ loves you. Ought not these words, that a God loves us, to fill with joy such poor creatures as we are?'[18] ‘Read the sacred writings,’ said he in another letter to those who wished for instruction, ‘but remember that if he who has the key of knowledge, and who alone can open the book, does not give the power to comprehend, you will never understand it.'[19]

D’Avila possessed the gift of discernment. He did not, indeed, entirely escape the influence of the period and of the country in which he lived; but we find him exposing the pretended revelations of Madeline de la Croix, who deceived so many, and undertaking the defence of the pious Theresa de Cepedre, when persecuted by the Inquisition. Theresa, born at Avila in 1515, of a noble family, had so much zeal even in her childhood that she one day quitted her father’s house with her brother to go and seek martyrdom amongst the Moors. A relative met the two children and took them back. She was from that time divided between the love of the world and the love of God, throwing herself alternately into dissipation and into the monastic life. This woman, the famous St. Theresa, was one of those ardent spirits who rush by turns to the two extremes. Happily she met with D’Avila, whose judgment was more mature than her own, received his instructions, and, by his means, became confirmed in spiritual life. Her writings, full of piety, and even attractive in style, were translated by the Jansenists, like those of D’Avila.[20] He[8] was the friend and director to a poor soldier, who, having been discharged in 1536, was converted, and turned his house into an hospital, for which he provided by the work of his own hands, and thus became founder of the Order of Charity. D’Avila gave to this charitable Christian, who was called John de Dieu, the wisest counsels, the sum of which was, ‘Die rather than be unfaithful to so good a Master.’

One day a young girl, named Sancha de Carile, daughter of a señor of Cordova, was preparing to go to court, where she had just been appointed maid of honor to the queen. She wished first to have a conversation with John d’Avila, and was so touched by his words that she thenceforth abandoned the court and the world. Instead, however, of entering a convent, she remained in her father’s house, and there devoted herself till death to the service of Jesus Christ, whom she had found as her Saviour.[21] It was for Sancha de Carile that D’Avila composed his principal work, entitled Audi, filia, et vide (‘Hearken, O daughter, and consider'[22]), Ps. xlv. 10. D’Avila did not side with the doctors and disciples of the Reformation, who were continually increasing in number in Germany. He differed from them, indeed, on several points, but on others approached them so nearly that his preaching could not but prepare men’s minds to receive the fulness of evangelical doctrine. The Inquisition understood this.[23]

The period which elapsed between 1520 and 1535 was an epoch which prepared the way for reformation in Spain. In the universities, in the towns, and in country places many minds were silently inclining towards a better doctrine. The Reformation was then like fire smouldering under the ashes, but was to manifest itself[9] later in many a noble heart. Nevertheless, from time to time the flame became visible. A peasant, a simple man without any culture whatever, who had busied himself only about his fields, had by some means received Christian convictions.[24] One day, when in company with some relations and friends, he exclaimed, ‘It is Christ who, with his own blood, daily washes and purifies from their sins those who belong to him, and there is no other purgatory.’ It seems that the poor man had only repeated a saying which he had heard in some meeting, and which had pleased him, without being penetrated by the truth which he had expressed. When, therefore, he was cited before the inquisitors of the faith, he said, ‘I have certainly held that opinion, but, since it displeases your reverences, I willingly retract it.’ This did not satisfy the priests. They heaped reproaches upon him. ‘They may have feared,’ says the author of the Artifices of the Spanish Inquisition, ‘that their inquisitive faculties would stagnate and rot unless they set about finding some knavery in the man, thus pretending to find knots in a bulrush—nodus in scirpo.’ ‘You have asserted that there is no purgatory. Ergo you believe that the pope is mistaken—that the councils are mistaken—and that man is justified by faith alone.’ In short, they unfolded before him all the doctrines which they called heresies, and charged the unfortunate man with them as if he had actually professed them. The poor peasant protested; he confidently maintained that he did not even know what these doctrines meant. But they insisted on their charge, and showed him the close connection which subsists between all these dogmas. The poor man had been deprived of the ordinary means of instruction; but these priests, who were more opposed to the Gospel than water is to fire, says the narrator, taught and enlightened him. Those who boasted themselves to be the great extirpa[10]tors of the truth became its propagators. The peasant of whom we speak thus attained to the fulness of the faith which hitherto had only just dawned upon him. It was a striking example of the wonderful way in which Divine Goodness sometimes calls its chosen ones. There were many other such instances.'[25]

The chief reformer of Spain was to spring from a higher class. He was born in Andalusia, the Baetica which in the eyes of the ancients was the fairest and happiest of all the countries in the world. Near rocky mountains, on a vast plain of picturesque and solemn aspect, lies Lebrixa, an ancient town about ten leagues from Seville on the Cadiz side. Here lived Rodrigo de Valerio, a young man of a rich and distinguished family. He had, in common with the Andalusians, great quickness of apprehension; fancy sparkled in his speech, and his temperament was very cheerful. Like them, he was distinguished by his love of pleasure, and it was his glory to surpass in its indulgence all the young men with whom he associated. He generally lived at Seville, a town called by the Romans ‘little Rome’ (Romula), which had long been a centre of intelligence, and where the Alcazar and other monuments recalled the magnificence of the Moorish kings. Rodrigo had received a liberal education, and had learned a little Latin; but this had been speedily forgotten amidst the diversions of youth. There was not a hunt nor a game at which he was not present. He was to be seen arriving at the rendezvous mounted on a superb horse, richly equipped, and himself magnificently attired.[26] Easy and skilful in bodily exercises, he carried away every prize. Full of grace and elegance, he succeeded in winning the favor[11] of fair ladies. His delight was to mount the wildest horse, to scale the rocks, to dance with light foot, to hunt with horn and hound, to draw the cross-bow or shoot with the arquebus, and to be the leader of fashionable young men in every party and at every festival.

All at once Valerio disappeared from society. He was sought at the games, in the dance, at the races, but was nowhere to be found. Every one was asking what had become of him. He had abandoned every thing. The pleasures of the world had oppressed and wearied him, and he had found all void and bitterness. What! thought he, play the lute, make one’s horse caper, sing, dance … and forget what it is to be a man! A voice had cried in his heart that God was all in all. He had yielded to no human influence; God alone had touched him by his Spirit.[27] The change was for this reason all the more remarkable. The lively affections of his heart, which had hitherto rushed like a tempestuous torrent downwards towards the world, now rose with the same energy towards heaven. ‘A divine passion,’ says a contemporary, ‘suddenly seized him.[28] Casting off his old inclinations, and despising human judgment, he applied his whole strength, both of mind and body, so zealously to the pursuit of piety, that no worldly affection seemed to be left in him.’ If Rodrigo had then retired to a convent, all would have been en règle, and every one would have admired him; but no one could understand why, while renouncing pleasure, he did not immediately shut himself up in one of those human sanctuaries to which alone the world at that time gave the patent of a devout life. Some, indeed, of the remarks made on him were very natural. He had passed from one extreme to the other, and in his first fervor he exposed himself to the[12] ridicule of his old companions. The young man who had hitherto been remarkable for the delicacy of his manners, the elegance of his discourse, and the splendor of his dress, displayed now a somewhat repulsive roughness and negligence.[29] Sincere and upright, but as yet unenlightened, unacquainted indeed with any other pious life than that of ascetics, it is not astonishing that he threw himself at first into an exaggerated asceticism. He thought that he should thus renounce the world more completely and make a more perfect sacrifice to the Lord. He has lost his head, said some; he is drunk, said others. But on closer observation the true fear of God was to be seen in him, a sincere repentance for the vanity of his life, an ardent thirst for righteousness, and an indefatigable zeal in acquiring all the characteristics of true piety. But one thing above all occupied his mind. We have seen that he had learned Latin. This knowledge, which he had despised, now became of the greatest service to him. It was only in this language that the sacred writings could be read; he studied them day and night;[30] by means of hard toil he fixed them in his memory, and he had an admirable gift for applying the words of Scripture with correctness and promptitude. He endeavored to regulate his whole conduct by their teaching; and people perceived in him the presence of the Spirit by whom they were dictated.

Valerio became one of the apostles of the doctrines of Luther and the other reformers.[31] ‘It was not in their own writings that he had learned these. He had derived them directly from the Holy Scriptures. Those sacred books, which, according to some, are the source of such various doctrines, then produced in every country of Christendom the same faith and the same life.’ He soon[13] began to diffuse around him the light he had received. People were astonished at hearing this young layman, who had recently made one of every party of pleasure, speaking with so much fervor. ‘From whom do you hold your commission?’ asked some one. ‘From God himself,’ replied he, ‘who enlightens us with his Holy Spirit, and does not consider whether his messenger is a priest or a monk.’

Valerio was not the only one to awaken from sleep. A literary movement in the path opened by Erasmus had, as we have already said, prepared the way of the Gospel in Spain. One of its chiefs was John de Vergara, canon of Toledo, who had been secretary to Cardinal Ximenes. An accomplished Greek and Hebrew scholar, he had pointed out some errors in the Vulgate; and he was one of the editors of the Polyglot of Alcala. ‘With what pleasure do I learn,’ wrote the scholar of Rotterdam to him in 1527, ‘that the study of languages and of literature is flourishing in that Spain which was of old the fruitful mother of the greatest geniuses.’ John de Vergara had a brother named Francis, a professor of Greek literature at Complutum (the present Alcala de Henares). Alcala, near Madrid, the seat of the foremost university in the kingdom next to Salamanca, was at this epoch a centre of intelligence, and had acquired a European renown. A breath of freedom and life seemed to have passed over it. John and Francis, with another Spaniard, Bernardin de Tobar, apparently their brother, put forth their united efforts to revive the pursuit of literature in their native land, and kindled bright hopes in the breast of the prince of the schools. Calling to mind, as was his wont, the stories of ancient times, Erasmus compared these three friends of letters to Geryon, king of the Balearic Islands, the most powerful of men, of whom the poets had made a giant with three bodies. ‘Spain,’ said he, ‘has once more its Geryon, with three bodies but one spirit, and the happiest anticipations are[14] excited in our minds.'[32] The modern Geryon, however, failed to win the honor of the triumph promised by Erasmus. In the Inquisition he met the Hercules who vanquished him. These eminent men had found their way through the love of learning to the love of the Gospel; and John had carried his audacity to such a pitch that he aimed at correcting the Vulgate. Hereupon certain monks who knew nothing of Latin beyond the jargon of the schools raised the alarm. John and Tobar were arrested by the inquisitors of Toledo, cast into a dungeon, and called upon to renounce the heresies of Luther. This charge they had not at all anticipated. It was not by the reformer, but by his opponent, Erasmus, that they had been attracted to the Holy Scriptures. Being as yet weak in faith, they thought they might declare themselves unacquainted with Lutheranism; and they were released. Certain penances, however, were imposed on them, and they were placed under the surveillance of the Inquisition?[33]

At this time, between 1530 and 1540, a great theological controversy was being carried on in the university of Alcala. One of the champions was Matthew Pascual, a doctor distinguished for his acquirements in learning—he was master of Hebrew, Greek, and Latin—for his love of letters, of the Holy Scriptures, and of a doctrine more pure than that of the monks. The discussion had become animated; and the opponent of Pascual, in the heat of the conflict, exclaimed—’If the case be as Doctor Matthew maintains, it would follow that there would be no purgatory!’ Pascual had probably said with St. John that the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin. He replied simply—’What then? (Quid[15] tum?)’ The monks were all agitated at these words. ‘He said Quid tum! He denies purgatory.’ He was forthwith committed to the prison of the holy fathers,[34] from which he was not liberated till long afterwards, and then with the loss of all his property. He then left Spain. Two monosyllables had cost him dear.

There was resident at Alcala at this time a man who far surpassed the Vergaras and the Pascuals, and whose judgments were universally accepted in Spain as oracles.[35] This was Peter de Lerma, abbot of Alcala, canon, professor of theology, and chancellor of the university, skilled in the oriental languages, which he had studied in Paris, and well versed in Scholastic theology. He was highly esteemed throughout the whole Peninsula. He was consulted on the greatest affairs of state; and many had recourse to him as to a touch-stone which at once indicated to them what was good and what was evil. As he was wealthy and belonged to a noble family of Burgos, he had great influence. From an early age he gave himself up to the reading of the Holy Scriptures, convinced that without them it was impossible to attain any real knowledge of holy things. At an advanced age he read the works of Erasmus. His mind was enlightened by them; and he acknowledged that the studies pursued at the universities served only for vain display. A new form was given to his activity, and his words were henceforth remarkable for their freedom, their simplicity, and their vigor. ‘Draw,’ said he, ‘from the oldest sources; do not take up opinions upon the sole authority of any masters, however solid they may be.’ Words like these were altogether new in the Catholic churches. Peter de Lerma was a kindly old man, now aged about seventy. The monks, regardless of his age, his attainments, or the authority which he enjoyed,[16] had him cast into prison by their agents. His opponents attacked him in private conferences. But the aged doctor, finding that the best reasons were of no avail with his enemies, that they refused to listen to the truth, and had no regard for innocence, declared that he would hold no more discussion with Spaniards, and required them to summon learned men of other lands, capable of understanding the evidence laid before them. To the inquisitors this seemed to be horrible blasphemy. ‘Would it not be said,’ they exclaimed, ‘that the holy fathers of the Inquisition may be in error, and that they are unable to comprehend a hundred others better than you?’ They assailed him with insults, they plagued him in the prison, they threatened him with torture. The poor old man at last, enfeebled by age and by persecution, and not yet sufficiently established in the faith, as was usually the case with the converts of Erasmus, complied with the demands of his persecutors. He then withdrew to Burgos, his native place. Melancholy weighed him down. The energies of his soul were crushed. His hopes for the future of his people had vanished. He bowed down his head and suffered. Informed ere long that it was intended to arrest him, he fled to Flanders; then went to Paris, where he died dean of the Sorbonne, and professor of theology in that university.

The preaching of the old man was not fruitless in Spain. Like John d’Avila and others, he was one of those Spanish evangelicals who did not make use of Luther’s name, but asserted that they preached simply the primitive doctrines of the Apostles. This came to much the same thing. The tint was only a little softened and less powerful.

Louis of Cadena, one of his nephews, had succeeded him as chancellor of the university of Alcala. By his elegant Latinity, and his acquaintance with Hebrew, Arabic, and Greek, he acquired great reputation among[17] men of letters. Convinced that if Spain were ever to become great, it was necessary to give her an impulse towards light and liberty, he undertook, notwithstanding the fate of his uncle, to bring to an end the reign of Scholasticism. Information was laid against him, as one suspected of Lutheranism, before the Inquisition at Toledo; and he was compelled to fly in order to escape the dungeons of the holy office. The Inquisition in those days lost no opportunity of putting an extinguisher over any light divinely kindled in Spain, of suppressing thought and checking its progress.[36] Louis betook himself likewise to Paris, where, like his uncle, he restrained his zeal to avoid exposure to fresh persecutions.[37]

John d’Avila himself, the apostle of Andalusia, whose only thought was the conversion of souls, and who did not meddle with controversies, found that the monks, enraged and provoked by his refusal to engage in disputation, denounced him to the Inquisition as a Lutheran or alumbrado. In 1534, an inauspicious year for evangelical Spain, this humble pastor was arrested at Seville, and cast into the prisons of the holy office. But his enemies, impelled by blind hatred, had not even informed the archbishop of Seville, Don Alfonso de Manrique, who was at this time Grand Inquisitor. The prelate, who cherished the highest esteem for John d’Avila, was affected on hearing what his subordinates had just done. He pointed out that this man was no Lutheran, but was only seeking to do good to the souls of men. D’Avila was consequently acquitted, and he continued quietly to preach the Gospel till his death. The inquisitors, by fastening the name ‘Lutheran’ on every thing pious, rendered indirect homage to Lutheranism.[38]

Manrique was not alone in occasional opposition to the fanaticism of the inquisitors. Charles the Fifth himself, although strongly opposed to every thing which appeared[18] to him heresy, seems to have had some relish for solid preaching. His fine understanding preferred it to the fables of the monks. He had for his chaplain a Dominican monk named Alfonso Virves, an accomplished orientalist and a good theologian. Charles took him with him when he travelled in Germany; and he not only liked to hear him preach, but also associated with him in his numerous journeyings with a certain degree of intimacy. After his return to Spain, the emperor would hear no other preacher. Certain monks who coveted the privilege of preaching before the emperor were filled with envy and hatred. They inveighed against Virves. In vain he contended, according to the dictates of his conscience, for what he believed to be true piety; these wretches uttered shameless calumnies against him, and obvious falsehoods, and resorted to malicious intrigues. This was their usual method.[39] Virves esteemed the fine genius of Erasmus, but censured him for his too great freedom. He asserted that his wish was to secure Spain against Lutheranism. But he had seen in Germany the leading reformers, had enjoyed friendly intercourse with them, and declared that he renounced the attempt to recall them from their errors.[40] This was ground enough for a prosecution; and without any regard to the wish of the emperor, the inquisitors arrested his chaplain, threw him into the prison of the Holy Office at Seville, and in eager haste prepared to sacrifice him. The news of their proceedings reaching Charles the Fifth, he was astonished and indignant. He was better acquainted with Virves than the inquisitors were. He determined by energetic action to foil the conspiracies of the monks. He felt confident that Virves was the victim of an intrigue. He even banished Manrique, the inquisitor-general, who[19] was compelled to retire to his diocese, and died there. Charles did more than this. He addressed to the Holy Office, July 18, 1534, an ordinance prohibiting the arrest of a monk before laying the evidence before the council and awaiting its orders. But the emperor, all-powerful as he was, was not powerful enough to snatch a victim from the Inquisition. Virves, whose only crime was that of being a pious and moderate Catholic, had to undergo for four years all the horrors of a secret prison. He says himself that they hardly gave him leave to breathe. The inquisitors overwhelmed him with accusations, with interdictions, with libels and with words, he says, which one can not hear without being terrified. He adds that he was charged with errors, heresies, blasphemies, anathemas, schism, and other similar monstrosities. To convince them, he undertook labors which might be likened to those of Hercules. He exhibited the points which he had drawn up by way of preparation for an attack on Melanchthon before the diet of Ratisbon. But all was useless. The tribunal condemned him in 1537 to abjure all heresies, among others those of Luther, to be confined in a monastery for two years, and to abstain from preaching for two years after his liberation. The poor man had to appear in the cathedral of Seville, and to retract, among other propositions, the following:—’A life of action is more meritorious than a life of contemplation.—A larger number of Christians are saved in the married state than in all other states.’ Charles the Fifth, determined at all cost to rescue his chaplain from imprisonment, applied to the pope, who by a brief of May 29, 1538, ordered that Virves should be set at liberty, and be again allowed to preach. Charles now nominated him bishop of the Canary Islands. After some hesitation, the pope consented to the appointment, and in 1540, the heretic was invested with the episcopal mitre. In the following year he published at Antwerp his Philippicæ Disputationes, in which his objections to the doctrines of Luther[20] are set forth. In the same book, however, he asserted that heretics ought not to be ill-used, but persuaded, and this especially by setting before them the testimonies of Holy Scripture; because all Scripture given by inspiration of God is profitable, says St. Paul, for doctrine, for reproof, for correction. Alfonso Virves was one of those Spaniards whom the Inquisition prevented from becoming evangelical, but could not succeed in making papistical and ultramontane.[41]

Virves was not the only Spaniard who imbibed in Germany views which nearly approached to those of the Reformation. Several learnt more than he did in the land of Luther, and exerted an influence on the Peninsula. Curiosity was awakened, and people wanted to know what that reformation was of which so much was said. Spain, rigid and antique, began to be astir. Meetings were held in the country and secret associations were formed. The Inquisition, astonished, turned in all directions its searching eyes. In vain were learned theologians sent to Germany and other lands for the purpose of bringing back to the church of Rome those who were leaving it. The doctors themselves returned to Spain, conquered by the truth against which they were to fight.[42] Many of them became victims to their faith after their return to their native land; others became martyrs in foreign lands.



Seville and Valladolid were the two principal seats of the awakening. These towns were at this time, properly speaking, the two capitals of Spain. In both of them evangelical Christians used to meet together secretly to worship God in spirit and in truth, and to confirm each other in the faith and in obedience to the commandments of the Lord. There were monasteries nearly all the members of which had received the doctrine of the Gospel. It had, moreover, adherents scattered about in all parts of the Peninsula. Rodrigo de Valerio, the lay reformer of Spain, continued his labors in Seville. He held conversations daily with the priests and the monks. ‘Pray how comes it to pass,’ he said to them, ‘that not only the clergy but the whole Christian community is found to be in so lamentable a condition that there seems to be hardly any hope of a remedy for it? It is you that are the cause of this state of things. The corruption of your order has corrupted every thing. Lose no time in applying an efficient remedy to so vast an evil. Be yourselves transformed that you may be able to transform others.’ Valerio supported these eloquent appeals by the declarations of Holy Scripture. The priests were astonished and indignant. ‘Whence comes the audacity,’ they said, ‘with which you assail those who are the very lights and pillars of the Church?[43] How dare a mere layman, an unlettered man, who has been occupied solely in secular affairs and in ruining himself, speak with such insolence?… Who commissioned you,[22] and where is the seal of your calling?’ ‘Assuredly,’ replied Valerio, candidly, ‘I did not acquire this wisdom from your corrupt morals; it comes from the Spirit of God, which flows, like rivers of living water, from those who believe in Jesus Christ. As for my boldness, it is given by him who sends me. He is the truth itself which I proclaim. The Spirit of God is not bound to any order, least of all to that of a corrupt clergy. Those men were laymen, plain fishermen, who convicted of blindness the whole learned synagogue, and called the world to the knowledge of salvation.’

Thus spoke Rodrigo; and he was distressed to see all these priests ‘unable to endure the shining light of the Gospel.’ One great consolation was given to him. The preacher of Seville cathedral at this time was John Gil, or Egidius, a doctor, born at Olvera, in Aragon, and educated at the university of Alcala. He possessed the qualities of an orator; for he was a man of fine character and of keen sensibility. But these essential qualities, instead of being developed at the university, had lain dormant. The intellectual faculty alone had been cultivated. There was a fire in the man’s nature, but it had been quenched by Scholasticism. Egidius had plunged into the study of the theology of the schools, the only science then in vogue in Spain. In this he had distinguished himself, had won the highest academical honors, and had become professor of theology at Siguenza. He was not content with letting the Word of God alone; he openly avowed contempt for the study of it, ridiculed such members of the university as diligently read the sacred books, and with a shrug of the shoulders used to call them ‘those good Biblists.’ Peter Lombard, Thomas Aquinas, Scotus, and other doctors of the same class, were the men for him. His flatterers went so far as to allege that he surpassed them. As the reputation of Egidius was spreading far and wide, when the office of chief canon or preacher of the cathedral of Seville[23] became vacant, the chapter unanimously elected him, and even dispensed with the trial usual in such cases. Egidius, absorbed in his Scholastic books, had never preached in public nor studied the Holy Scriptures. He nevertheless fancied that nothing could be easier to him than preaching, which in his view was an inferior office. He expected even that he should dazzle his hearers by the blaze of Scholasticism, and attract them by its charms. He therefore ascended the pulpit of the cathedral of the capital of Andalusia. A numerous congregation had assembled, and expecting something wonderful were very attentive. The illustrious doctor preached, but after the Scholastic fashion. Having put forward some proposition, he explained its various meanings. The terms which he made use of were those of the schools, and his hearers could hardly understand them. What frivolous distinctions! What profitless questions! The preacher thought it all very fine: his audience felt it to be very tiresome. They gave him, however, a second and a third hearing; but it was always the same—dry and wearisome. The famous theologian was thus the least popular of the preachers, and Egidius saw his congregation lessening day by day. His sermons fell into the greatest contempt among the people. Those who had imprudently called him to the post began to consider how they could get rid of him; and the preacher himself, anxious about his reputation and the usefulness of his ministry, began to look out for a less brilliant position, in which people might make more account of him.[44]

Rodrigo had gone with the multitude, and was one of those who were dissatisfied with these Scholastic discourses. But he was gifted with the discerning of spirits, and beneath the Scholastic doctor he had been able to recognize the orator and his indisputable abilities. He was grieved to see the gifts of God thus thrown away,[24] and he resolved to speak frankly to Egidius. ‘Divine Providence,’ says the chronicler, ‘impelled him to this course.’ Having made request, therefore, for an interview with the canon, Valerio, received by him with some feeling of surprise, but still with kindliness, began at once to speak to him about the function of the Christian orator.[45] This function, in his view, was not to set forth certain theses and anti-theses, but to address the consciences of men, to present Christ to them as the author of eternal salvation, and to press them to throw themselves into the arms of this Saviour, that through him they might become new creatures. ‘You are in need of other studies,’ he said to the schoolman, ‘other books, and other guides than those which you have chosen.’ Egidius was at first astounded; his pride rebelled. ‘What audacity!’ he thought; ‘this man sprung from the common people, ignorant and of feeble understanding, dares to criticise me, and confidently to teach me, a man with whom he is hardly acquainted!'[46] Nevertheless, the natural kindliness of Egidius, and the reflection that Rodrigo was speaking of the art of preaching, in which he had miserably failed, repressed this first emotion. He kept his self-possession and listened attentively to the layman. Rodrigo frankly pointed out to him the defects of his manner of preaching, and exhorted him to search the Scriptures. ‘You will never succeed,’ he said, ‘in becoming really powerful as a teacher unless you study the Bible day and night.'[47] He told him that in order to preach salvation he must first have found it himself, and that out of the abundance of the heart the mouth must speak. A few hours sufficed for the enlightenment of Egidius; and from this time he became a new man.[48][25] How many years had he lost, both as student and as professor! ‘I perceive,’ said he, ‘that all the studies and all the labors of my past life have been vain. I now enter upon the new path of a wisdom of which I did not know the A B C.’ The weariness and dejection of Egidius were now over, and he felt great peace and joy. He saw God opening to him the treasury of his love. ‘The heavens were beginning to be serene and the earth peaceful.’ Egidius was naturally very open-hearted, frank, and sincere. The Gospel, the great revelation of God’s love, had for him an unspeakable charm. He received it joyfully, and his heart resounded with a new song. He studied the Holy Scriptures, prayed, meditated, and read good authors; and thus made progress in the knowledge of true theology.

Rodrigo de Valerio was made glad by the wonderful change which God had wrought through his ministry; and the victory which he had won raised still higher his burning zeal. He began to proclaim the Gospel not only in private meetings, but in public, in the streets and squares of the town, near the Giralda, the convent of Buena Vitta, the Alcazar, and on the banks of the Guadalquivir. He was denounced to the holy office, and when he appeared before the tribunal of the Inquisition he spoke earnestly about the real church of Christ, set forth its distinguishing marks, and especially insisted on the justification of man by faith. This took place a little while after the conversion of Egidius, whose new faith was not yet known, and who still enjoyed in society the reputation of a scholar and a good Catholic. Glad of an opportunity of repaying his great debt, he came before the tribunal and defended his friend. He thus exerted an influence over the judges, and they took into consideration the lowliness of Valerio’s family and the rank which he held in society. Moreover, they said Valerio is tainted with insanity, and it can hardly be necessary to hand over a madman to the secular power. His goods[26] were confiscated, he was exhorted to return to the right path, and was then set at liberty.

The astonishing change which had been effected in Egidius was soon remarked at Seville. Now fully persuaded of the need of repentance and faith, and possessing salvation by personal experience,[49] his preaching was henceforth as simple, affectionate, and fervent as it had before been cold, ignorant, and pedantic. Abstract propositions and fruitless disputations now gave place to powerful appeals to conscience and to entreaties full of charity. General attention was aroused. Once more a multitude thronged the noble cathedral, erected on the very spot on which the Arabs had formerly built a magnificent mosque, in which neither altar nor image was to be seen, but which was brilliant with marbles and lamps. The Christians were now summoned to hear the good news by bells in the summit of the Mohammedan tower, the Giralda, whence the muezzins had once called the people to prayer. This was the sole remnant of the mosque, and it gave its name to the church. Jesus Christ now took the place of the false prophet and the vain forms of the papacy; and many believed in the grace of the Son of God. In the discourses of Egidius there was a charm which was felt alike by the educated and the ignorant. He was the most animated and the most popular preacher who had ever appeared at Seville; and his history shows, better perhaps than that of any other preacher, that the first quality of an orator is a heart burning with love and with fervent emotion. Pectus facit oratorem. This man had received from God the excellent gift of penetrating the souls of those who heard him with a divine fire[50] which animated all their deeds of piety and fitted them to endure lovingly the cross with which they were threatened. Christ was with him in his ministry, says one of[27] those who were converted by him; and this divine Master himself engraved, by the virtue of his Spirit, the words of his servant on the hearts of his hearers.[51] Valerio was the layman of the Reformation; Egidius became its minister.

He was not long alone. During his residence at Alcala, three students were observed to be united in close friendship with each other. These were John Egidius, Constantine Ponce de la Fuente, and Vargas. Now these two old fellow-students arrived at Seville. The Castilian, Constantine Ponce de la Fuente, was born at St. Clement, in the diocese of Cuença. The inhabitants of these districts concealed under an aspect of coldness a free and boisterous gaiety. Ponce de la Fuente was certainly one of these people. He had a caustic humor, was a lover of pleasure, and ardent in all that he did. His youth had been somewhat dissipated, and for this he was afterwards reproached by his enemies. But he possessed also good sense and a moral disposition, which soon led him to embrace a more regular life, even before he was acquainted with the Gospel. He never lost, however, his cheerfulness and his wit. He was animated by a strong desire to gain solid knowledge, and at the same time he felt great aversion to the pedantry and barbarism of the schools. In some respects he was like Erasmus. He was a son of the Renaissance, and, like his master, enjoyed ridiculing the ignorance of the monks, the fooleries of the preachers, and the hypocrisy of the pharisees. Although he had not the genius of the great man of letters, in some points he surpassed him. There was more depth in his faith and more decision in his character. Contradictory qualities met in his nature. He would hurl in all directions his satirical darts, and yet he was full of benevolence and generosity, and was always ready to give assistance to any one. It was, moreover, said of him that[28] no one ever loved or hated him moderately. His acquaintance with the human heart, his knowledge of the egotism and the indifference which are found even in the best men, made him very scrupulous in the selection of his friends. But he deeply loved the few to whom he was attached; and with his great acquirements he combined a free and cordial manner.

Ponce de la Fuente was apparently detained at Seville by the report of the conversion of Egidius and of the great sensation which his discourses were producing in that town. Like Vargas, he hungered and thirsted for a truth which should satisfy all his wants, and which was as yet unknown to him. That which these two were still in search of, they learnt that the third had found. They hastened to his presence. They found Egidius convinced that the knowledge of Christ surpasses every thing besides, so that in order to obtain it there is nothing which ought not to be given up. He had found it the chief good. He had gained it by faith, and he was prepared for the sake of keeping it to lose all that he possessed. The communion of the three friends became more and more intimate, their friendship sweeter and sweeter.[52] In their intercourse with each other they found so much solace and so much profit to their souls that when they were parted they sighed for the moment when they should meet again. Their souls were one. Egidius made known evangelical truth to his old fellow-students; and on their part Vargas, and still more de la Fuente, ‘the extent of whose knowledge was marvellous,'[53] gave him a wholesome impulse, under the influence of which he made rapid progress both in sound literature and true theology. The brotherly affection which united them filled their hearts with joy; and this joy, says a reformer, was perfumed with the sweet odor of the service of God.


The three friends formed a plan, and combined their efforts to spread true piety around them. Egidius and de la Fuente divided between them the work of preaching. Their manner of speaking differed. While Egidius had much openness of heart, de la Fuente had much openness of intellect. In the discourses of Egidius there was more fire; more light in those of de la Fuente. The former took souls captive; the latter enlightened understandings, and obtained, says a historian,[54] as much and even more applause than his master. This means doubtless that his influence was still more powerful. Vargas had undertaken another department, that of practical exegesis. At first he explained in the church the Gospel according to St. Matthew, as Zwingli had done at Zurich; and afterwards the Psalms.[55] These three evangelists spoke with a sacred authority, and with admirable unity. ‘What harmony,’ people said, ‘prevails between Egidius, Constantine, and Vargas!’ But nobody suspected that the word spoken by these three powerful teachers was the evangelical doctrine then being preached by Luther, Farel, and the other reformers. There was no more reference to them in the discourses of the Spaniards than if they had not existed. All those souls which thirsted for the truth would have been alarmed at the names of these men, heretics in their eyes; but they were attracted by the words full of grace and truth which were those of John, Peter, and Paul, nay, rather of Jesus himself. The sheep entered into the fold in which were already those who were elsewhere called by Melanchthon and by Calvin, without in the least suspecting the fact. Their strong but invisible bond of union was[30] Christ, whose grace operated silently but with the same efficacy on the banks of the Elbe, the Rhone, and the Guadalquivir.

The reputation of Ponce de la Fuente was ere long as widespread as that of Egidius. There was one feature in his character which doubled, nay, which multiplied a hundredfold the force and result of his preaching. He was free from vanity. This besetting sin of the orator, a vice which paralyses his influence, had no place in him. He was quite exempt from that exalted opinion of himself which is so natural to the human heart, and especially to the public speaker. He had recovered the first of all loves—the love of God; and this so filled his soul that it left no room for any other. He was indifferent to the praises of his hearers, and his only thought was how to win their hearts for God. His reputation procured him several calls. The chapter of Cuença unanimously invited him to be preacher at the cathedral. By accepting the invitation he would have gained an honorable position in his own province; but he chose rather to remain the curate of Egidius. Some time afterwards a deputation arrived at Seville, commissioned to announce to de la Fuente that he was called to succeed the titular bishop of Utica as preacher at the metropolitan church of Toledo, an office of high honor and very much sought after.[56] No one doubted that he would accept a place which was the object of ambition to so many men. De la Fuente, having no wish to leave Seville, where a great door was opened to him, declined the offer. The canons persisted in their application, pressed him and seemed bent on compelling him. In order to get rid of their importunity, Ponce availed himself of an objection which was certainly in character with the turn of his mind. In the church of Toledo a dispute was at this time going on between several members of the chapter and the cardinal[31]archbishop John de Martinez Siliceo, who had decreed that the candidates elected by the chapter should be bound to prove that they were descended from blameless ancestors. Now de la Fuente had no reason to fear this rule more than any other; but being driven to extremities, he replied to the deputies with an arch smile that ‘the bones of his ancestors had rested in peace for many years, and that he would not disturb their repose.’

It was inevitable that the labors of these evangelical men should arouse at Seville a lively opposition. The more the hearers of the three evangelists were rescued by their preaching from the darkness of ignorance, and the more they shook off the dust of the middle ages, so much the more they esteemed the noble men to whom they were indebted for the light, and the less respect they felt for the troop of hypocrites who had so long destroyed their souls by their teaching.[57] Consequently the palace of the Inquisition resounded with complaints, and nothing but threats was to be heard in the castle of Triana, situated in a suburb of Seville, in which the tribunal of the holy office was established. The evangelists, however, had friends so numerous and so powerful that the inquisitors did not dare at present to attack them. They turned their attention to the other preachers, endeavored to awaken them, and implored them to defend the faith of Rome, now so terribly shaken. And, in fact, the priests attached to ancient superstitions ere long arose as out of a long sleep and warmed their torpid zeal. The fire of Rome, well-nigh extinct, was rekindled. There were two camps in Seville. Over the cathedral floated the banner of the Gospel; in almost all the other churches was raised the flag of the papacy. A contemporary asserts that it was the flag of Epictetus, and he thinks that these priests were rather inferior[32] to the Stoic philosopher.[58] ‘Unstring your rosaries and your beads more frequently,’ said the priests; ‘get many masses said; abstain from meat; go on pilgrimage; have such and such dresses, such an aspect, and other poor things of the like kind.'[59] ‘A fine mask of piety,’ people used to say; ‘but if you examine these things more closely, what do you find?’ At the cathedral, on the contrary, the preachers urged their hearers to read the Holy Scriptures; they set forth the merits of a crucified Saviour and called upon men to place all their trust in him. The evangelical preachers were fewer in number than the others, but around them were gathered the best part of the population. Gradually the books of the Roman service were laid aside and gave place to the Gospel. Many hearts were attracted by the Word of God. The religion of form lost many of its adherents, and the religion of the spirit gained them. Among these were several inmates of the convent of the Hieronymites, in San Isidro del Campo. But for the Inquisition, the Reformation would have transformed Spain, and secured the prosperity and welfare of its people.

Ponce de la Fuente, above all, charmed his hearers not only by the beauty of the doctrine which he proclaimed, but also by the purity and elegance of his language, and by the overpowering bursts of his eloquence. Those who heard it exclaimed, ‘A miracle!'[60] Ponce was a great observer, and this both by nature and by choice. He took his stand as it were upon a height, and set himself to consider attentively all that presented itself to him—physical phenomena, moral affections, and [33]human affairs.[61] By means of his learning, his experience, and his knowledge of the Holy Scriptures, he was able to contemplate as from an elevated position all things human and divine. He had also an accurate judgment, a quality of the first importance to a preacher. He had a sense of the just value of things; discretion not only guided him in all his actions, but also inspired all his words. This explains the popularity which he ere long enjoyed. In his view the tact of the orator should teach him to avoid whatever would uselessly shock the hearer, and to seek after every thing which could bring souls to salvation. On the days when he preached, Seville cathedral presented the finest spectacle. His service was usually at eight o’clock in the morning; and the concourse of people was so great that as early as four o’clock, frequently even at three, hardly a place in the church was left vacant.[62] It was openly asserted in Seville that Ponce de la Fuente surpassed the most illustrious orators of his own age and of the age which had preceded it.[63] In spite of the extraordinary popularity which he enjoyed, he had remained one of the simplest of men, free from the love of money, without ambition, satisfied with frugal diet, with a small library, and not caring for that wealth for the sake of which certain public pests, said one of his friends, ravaged the church of God. He had given proof of this by refusing the rich canonry of Toledo.

During many years Seville, more fortunate in this respect than any other town in Spain,[64] heard the pure Gospel of Christ proclaimed. Besides the service in the cathedral, there were meetings of a more private charac[34]ter in some of the houses. The abundant harvest which the fertile soil of Spain afterwards yielded was the fruit of these laborious sowings.[65] De la Fuente, Egidius, and Vargas, men as remarkable for their doctrine as for their life, were the first great sowers of the good seed in the Peninsula. ‘They deserve,’ said one of their good friends, ‘to be held in perpetual remembrance.’ Who can tell what might have happened in Spain if the work of these three associated Christians could have been longer carried on? But on a sudden Egidius found himself deprived of his two companions in arms, and this in most diverse ways.

Charles the Fifth happened to be in Spain just at the time when Ponce de la Fuente was achieving the greatest success. The emperor came to Seville; and in consequence of the high praise of the preacher which reached him from all quarters he wished to hear him. Charles was delighted. He was fond of fine things, and the same doctrines which, when professed in Belgium, in some obscure conventicle by a cutler or a furrier, he punished as frightful heresies, did not offend him when they came from the lips of a great orator, and were proclaimed to an immense crowd in the most beautiful church in Spain. He almost believed that talent was orthodox. We have moreover remarked that one of the characteristics of de la Fuente was to preach the pure Gospel, avoiding every thing which might shock his hearers. The emperor sent for him to the palace. Charmed with his conversation, his intelligence, and his polished and agreeable manners, he named him one of his chaplains. To this appointment he soon added the office of almoner, and invited him to follow him beyond the Pyrenees. De la Fuente, being attached to Seville, would gladly have declined the call, as he had those from Cuença and Toledo. But this[35] time it was his sovereign who called him. The will of Charles the Fifth was law, and there was no way of escape. Moreover this call, in his judgment, came from God himself. He, therefore, prepared for his departure. Strange to say, the emperor charged him to accompany his son Philip into the Netherlands and to England.[66] ‘I intend,’ he said, ‘to show the Flemings that Spain is not without her amiable scholars and eminent orators.’ De la Fuente, therefore, accompanied Philip. He afterwards rejoined Charles in Germany, discharged the duties of chaplain to him, and had the opportunity of making the acquaintance of some of the reformers.

The departure of Ponce de la Fuente left the Roman party at Seville more at ease. They resolved now to get rid first of Vargas. This theologian, who perhaps had neither the tact of de la Fuente nor the fervor of Egidius, was just on the point of being cited before the tribunals when he died. Egidius thus left alone felt keenly the loss of his friends. He was to have no more intimate communion, no more familiar conversations. The illustrious preacher encountered everywhere hostile looks, and had no longer a friendly ear into which he could pour his sorrow. His singular openheartedness exposed him more than others to hatred. Simple and candid, when called to speak from the chief pulpit at Seville, he attacked the enemies of the light more openly and more frequently than his colleagues had done.[67] Consequently, his adversaries, full of anger against him, put into circulation the most unfavorable reports of his orthodoxy. They surrounded him with secret agents, who were instructed to pick up his sayings and to spy out his proceedings; and they schemed among themselves what course they must take to get rid of a man whom they detested. Egidius[36] was left alone; but even alone he was a power in Seville. If his enemies could succeed in overthrowing him, the Inquisition would then reign without a rival. Unfortunately for these fanatical men, Egidius counted a large number of friends among all classes. After a careful examination of all the circumstances, they had not courage publicly to accuse him. There was need of the brilliant popularity of which he was subsequently the object to raise their irritation to such a pitch that they determined to proceed to extremities.

The inquisitors did not stop here. Rodrigo de Valerio, after having been set at liberty, on the ground, they said, that he was merely mad, had refrained, by the desire of his friends, from publicly preaching the Gospel. Unwilling, however, to do absolutely nothing, he had gathered together a certain number of his friends and had in a familiar way interpreted to them the Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans, that ocean, as Chrysostom called it, which meets us everywhere at the beginning of the awakenings.[68] Some of those who listened to him persevered in the faith; others, at a later time, rejected it. Among the latter in particular was Peter Diaz, who having forsaken the Gospel entered the Society of Jesuits and died at Mexico.[69] But the brave Rodrigo could not long submit to this restriction. Ought he to shrink, he said to himself, from exposing his liberty, or even his life, when the Gospel was at stake? Others had given their lives for a less object than this. He was in hope, moreover, of arousing by his own example other combatants who should finally win the victory. He, therefore, laid aside timid precautions and began again to point out publicly[37] the errors and superstitions of Rome. He was once more denounced, and was arrested by the Inquisition, which was quite determined this time not to let slip the pretended madman. He was sentenced to imprisonment for life and to wear the san benito, a cloak of a yellow color, the usual garb of the victims of the Inquisition. Every Sunday and feast-day, Valerio was taken, as well as other penitents, by the familiars of the holy office to Saint Saviour’s Church, at Seville, to hear both the sermon and the high mass. He appeared as a penitent without repentance. He could not listen to the doctrine of the monks without in some way showing his opposition to it. He would sometimes rise from his seat, and, while the whole assembly fixed their eyes on him, put questions to the preacher, refute his doctrines, and entreat his hearers to take care they did not receive them.[70] Rodrigo could not hear a doctrine contrary to the Gospel without his whole soul being stirred within him. The inquisitors, steadily persuaded of his madness, at first excused these interpellations, which to them seemed to be the clearest proof of his malady. But the discourses of this insane man were so reasonable that they produced an impression. The inquisitors at length confined him in a convent on the coast of San Lucar, where all society was forbidden him; and here he died at about the age of fifty. His san benito was exhibited in the metropolitan Church of Seville, with this inscription:—Rodrigo Valerio, a false apostle who gave out that he was sent of God. It was after the departure of de la Fuente from Seville that the final sentence was pronounced against Valerio.




The Spaniards who at this epoch distinguished themselves by the purest faith were those who, having been by various circumstances transported into Germany and the Netherlands, were there brought into contact with the Reformation and its most remarkable men. Thus it happens that respecting these we possess the most detailed information. We are, therefore, called to look in this chapter and the following ones at Spain out of Spain.

While Seville was a great evangelical centre in the South, and the foremost town in Spain at the epoch of the Reformation, there were also cities in the north of the Peninsula, which were distinguished by some remarkable features, particularly Valladolid and Burgos. The latter town, situated in a fertile country, and once the capital of Castile, gave birth to four young men, who were afterwards noted for their devotion to the Gospel, but who spent most of their lives beyond the Pyrenees. These were James, Francis and John de Enzinas, sons of a respectable citizen of Burgos, who had kinsmen of noble rank and high connections, and Francis San Romano, of more humble origin, but whose parents were ‘good honest people.’ His father was alcalde of Bribiesca. These four young men, almost of the same age, were comrades at Burgos.[71] For various reasons they quitted the town in their youth. The father of the [39]Enzinas, a man in his way ambitious for his children, and holding firmly by his authority as a father, continued to rule his sons even after they had attained their majority. He sent them to complete their education at the university of Louvain, partly because the course of study there was of a more liberal cast than in Spain, and partly because he had kinsmen settled in the Netherlands, some of whom were at the court and enjoyed the favor of Charles the Fifth. It appeared to him that a fine career was there open to their ambition, and that they would perhaps ultimately rise to the high position of their father. They were indeed to find a career, but one of a more noble and glorious kind.

The Enzinas, having arrived in the Netherlands before 1540, applied themselves zealously to their studies. They were all of them, and especially Francis, desirous of discovering all that was true and good, fully determined to communicate to others the truths which they had acquired, filled with courage to defend them against all attacks and with perseverance to continue in the face of danger faithful to their convictions.[72] They had the Spanish temperament, depth and fervor of soul, seriousness and reflectiveness of understanding; and some faults of their nature were corrected by Christian faith. Their language had not only stateliness but thought. The sense of honor did not in them degenerate into pride, as is so often the case; and their religious faith, by the influence of the Gospel, was preserved from superstition. They have been known under different names in different countries. Their family name, Enzinas, which in Spanish denotes a species of oak, was as usual hellenized in Germany, where they bore the name of Dryander, and was turned into French in France, where they were sometimes called Duchesne.


These three young men had a taste for literature, and made rapid progress in it. While the truly noble and liberal bent of their intellect separated them from the theologians who were virtually imprisoned within the walls of the Scholastic method and doctrine, their naturally religious disposition, the common characteristic of their countrymen, led them to seek out the pious men of their day. Two of these were the means of bringing them over from Roman Catholicism to evangelical Protestantism; both of them conciliatory men, who, though they belonged especially to one of the two categories, maintained at the same time some relations with the other. One of them stood on the Catholic side, the other on the Protestant; but they had both been desirous of bringing about a reconciliation between the Reformation and Catholicism. One of these men was George Cassander, born in 1515, probably in the island of Cassandria, at the mouth of the Scheldt. He was a good scholar, and was a perfect master of languages and literature, law and theology, and taught with great reputation in various universities in the Netherlands. Sincerely pious, he made it the purpose of his life to demonstrate the agreement of the two parties in essential doctrines and to endeavor to unite them. With this intent he published various works.[73] The emperor Ferdinand at a later time requested him to work for this end. The Enzinas associated themselves with him. An intimate friendship grew up between them; they had frequent conversations and wrote to each other when separated.[74] But while the Catholics thought that Cassander conceded too much to the Protestants, the latter, and especially Calvin, complained that he conceded too much to the Catholics. He did, in fact, remain always united with the[41] Roman church, declared that he submitted to its judgment, and openly condemned schism and its authors.

The three brothers, endowed with an honest spirit, were resolved to get to the bottom of things. The spirit of Cassander, timid, as they thought, and the inadequacy of the reforms which he allowed to be desirable, displeased them; and they gradually withdrew from him. They looked for better guides, and studied the Holy Scriptures. By public report they heard of Melanchthon, and they began to read and to meditate on his writings. He was their second teacher, more enlightened, more evangelical, and more illustrious than the first. Melanchthon laid open to their understanding in a luminous manner the sacred Epistles. He revealed to his reader the grace of Jesus Christ, and this without the asperity and the violent language which are sometimes to be met with in Luther. Melanchthon’s moderation charmed them. They had found their master.

About the close of 1537, Francis Enzinas, then from twenty to twenty-five years of age, was recalled by his family to Burgos. His relative, Peter de Lerma, had just been prosecuted by the Inquisition. It was supposed that the views for which proceedings had been taken against him were to be attributed to his sojourn at Paris. Those inhabitants of Burgos who had sent their sons to foreign universities were alarmed lest their children and themselves should be subjected to the severities of the Inquisition. This was mainly the cause of the return of Francis to Burgos. ‘At that time,’ says he, ‘I was assailed by earnest remonstrances on the part of my parents, and I began to be looked on with suspicion by many great persons, because I would not comply with their requirements and give up the studies, the savor of which I had already tasted.'[75] His aged uncle, Peter de Lerma, was at this time at Burgos. Francis went to see him, and found him unhappy and dispirited, unable to recon[42]cile himself to the thought of living in a country where a man must either be in agreement with the Inquisition or become its victim. ‘Ah!’ said he, ‘I can no longer remain in Spain. It is impossible for men of learning to dwell in safety in the midst of so many persecutors.’ What though he was now nearly eighty years old? What though he must renounce, if he quitted Spain, all his goods and all his honors? He determined to seek after another abode in which he might end his days in peace. He would not hear of delay either on account of the season of the year, when storms are most to be dreaded, or on account of the war which was raging beyond the Pyrenees. He was resolved to leave Spain immediately. Perhaps he was encouraged not to put off his departure by the thought that the younger Enzinas might be of some service to him in carrying out his project. The old man embarked on a vessel which was sailing for Flanders. On his arrival there he betook himself to Paris, where he had formerly resided. During his first stay in the capital of France, De Lerma had been made doctor of the Sorbonne; he now found himself the most aged member of the University. His friends, persuaded that he had been persecuted unjustly, received him with much respect. He spent four years at Paris.

Francis had returned to Louvain. A great thought had by this time taken possession of his mind. His supreme desire was to see Spain converted to the Gospel. Now what means so mighty for this end as to give to the land the Word of God, and what a happiness it would be for him to enrich his native country with this treasure! In former ages the Bible had been translated, but the Inquisition had flung it into the flames. Hardly a single copy had escaped;[76] and Spaniards proudly boasted of the fact that their language had never served to dishonor the Book of God by exposing it to profane eyes. Enzinas, in common with others, supposed that[43] the New Testament had never yet been translated into Spanish. He therefore zealously undertook this task, but when he had made a beginning he felt that it was not in the Netherlands that he could conveniently accomplish it. The superstitions prevalent around him, and the annoyances which he had to endure on the part of the fanatical ultramontanes, made him ardently long to leave Louvain. At the same time he felt the need of a visit to Wittenberg, to talk over his work with Luther and Melanchthon, that he might profit by their larger knowledge. He was already acquainted with their writings, but he wished for their counsel, and desired an introduction to them.

Enzinas had met Alasco at Louvain in 1536, when the latter, after leaving Poland, had directed his steps to the Netherlands. He had been struck with the aspect, at once serious and gentle, of the Polish noble, and he had admired the air of stateliness and dignity which invested his whole person.[77] But he had not yet perceived ‘the treasures which lay hidden in the depth of his soul.’ Subsequently, Albert Hardenberg arrived at Louvain. They talked together about John Alasco, and Hardenberg expressed himself with all the warmth of a friend. ‘How can I name to you,’ he said, ‘all the gifts which God has bestowed on him, his eminent piety, his pure religion, the sweetness and the benevolence of his disposition, his wonderful acquaintance with all the liberal sciences, his aptitude for languages?… In these respects he surpasses all other men.'[78] These words of Hardenberg kindled in the heart of Enzinas a warm love for Alasco; and ere long, he says, the little spark became a great flame.[79] He would fain have gone to him in all[44] haste; but he was detained at Louvain by insuperable obstacles. He attempted to write to him; but when he read over his letter, abashed and anxious, he threw it away. At last he set out; but when he had reached Antwerp he found himself compelled to go back to Louvain. Not long after his return he heard that Alasco’s wife was there. She was, as we have seen, a native of this town. Francis hastened to her dwelling. He saw the wife and the daughter of his friend; he almost fancied that he saw the friend himself. He availed himself of the opportunity to write to the man for whom he had conceived one of those great and intense affections which are sometimes found in healthy natures. He wrote to Alasco as a soldier who stands near his captain. It appears that his parents had destined him for a military career, and he knew the almost inflexible will of his father. He had had conflicts to go through. A Spanish noble, doubtless for the purpose of encouraging him to enter upon the career which his father had chosen, had presented him with a beautiful and antique sword. ‘Although,’ wrote the young soldier of Christ to Alasco, ‘I should see the whole world taking up arms against me, because in spite of the advice of respected men I dedicate myself to study, I would not slight the gifts which God in his goodness, and without any deservings on my part, has given me. I will strive like a man to propagate the truth which God has revealed to us. But for this purpose I must fly far from this Babylonish captivity, and betake myself to some place where piety is not proscribed, and where a man may devote himself to noble studies. I have decided to go to Wittenberg, to the university which possesses so many learned professors, where knowledge of such various kinds is to be found, and which enjoys the approbation of all good men. I think so highly of the knowledge, the judgment, and the gift of teaching of Philip Melanchthon, that for his sake alone, to enjoy the conversation and the[45] instruction of so great a man, I would fly to the ends of the world.[80] Aid me in my project. This you may do by giving me letters to facilitate my access to Luther, Melanchthon, and other scholars, and to obtain for me their kindly regard.’

This was not all. Enzinas delivered to Alasco’s wife, as an act of homage to her husband, the antique and valuable sword presented to him by a Spanish noble. ‘You will say to me,’ he adds, ‘”What would you have me do with a sword?” I know that you are armed with a better, one which penetrates deeper than any other, the Word of God. But I send you this as a token of the love that I bear to you, and of the respect that I feel for the gifts which God has given you.’ This letter is dated May 10, 1541.

Francis Enzinas was not able to go immediately to Wittenberg. He had to undertake a journey to Paris in the summer of 1541, partly to see his elder brother then residing there, and partly to attend on his aged uncle, Peter de Lerma, who was now drawing near to his end. The young man was thus with his aged kinsman on two most solemn occasions—his departure from Spain, and his death. Francis found him weakened, but still enjoying the use of his fine faculties. He went frequently to see him, and they had long and confidential interviews. The suavity of the old man, and his seriousness unmixed with severity, charmed and delighted Francis,[81] who from infancy had always loved and honored his relative, and now esteemed it a privilege to testify to the last his respectful affection. His parents wrote to him from Burgos to take the greatest care of his aged uncle. He therefore went daily to see him, and his visits made glad the heart of the old man. Suddenly, in the month of August 1541, Peter de Lerma exchanged the miseries of this world for[46] the joys of the life eternal.[82] The patriarch of eighty-five and the youth of twenty-five were together at this solemn moment. Life was just beginning for Francis at the time when it was ending for his uncle; and the former, like the latter, was to experience all its burdens. As the sole representative of the family, he gave the old man honor and reverence till his death.[83]

At Paris, Francis had found, as we have stated, his elder brother James, who had gone thither by his father’s command to complete his studies; and it is possible that this interview may have been the real purpose of his journey. James had, like his brother, a noble and independent mind, a sensitive conscience, and a pure and innocent nature which unsuspectingly showed itself as it was. This openness of character exposed him to great danger. To these qualities he added a very refined taste, which enabled him to appreciate instinctively the works of intellect and the productions of art. James was already convinced of the great truths of the Gospel, but his faith was strengthened during his stay at Paris; and he exerted a beneficial influence on some of his fellow-countrymen who were studying there at the same time.

In this capital he did not find every thing answering to his expectation. The professors were mostly bigots, who had a very small stock of knowledge, but nevertheless assumed a consequential air, although the little philosophy which they possessed made them really less intelligent than if they had had none at all. The students had little good-breeding, nor did they show any desire for really liberal researches. James Enzinas was deeply moved by the heroism of the martyrs, and the cruelty of their executioners made him shudder. One[47] day a very young man named Claude Lepeintre, about twenty years of age, was conducted to the Place Maubert, to suffer there the last penalty. He had resided three years at Geneva, serving, it appears, an apprenticeship to a goldsmith. In that city he had found the Gospel. After his return to Paris, his native place, ‘he had endeavored to impart to his friends the knowledge of eternal salvation.’ Some people of the house in which he carried on his trade as a goldsmith ‘could not endure the sweet savor of the Gospel of the Son of God,’ and therefore took him before the criminal judge, who condemned him to be burnt alive. He appealed to the parliament, which, as Claude refused to recant, added that he should forthwith have his tongue cut out. Without change of countenance the pious young Christian presented his tongue to the executioner, who seized it with pincers and cut it off. It is even added that with it he struck the martyr several blows on the cheek. He was then placed in a car to be taken to the stake. Several evangelical Christians, students and others, such as James Enzinas, his friend the advocate Crespin, and Eustace of Knobelsdorf, would not leave him till his death. His martyrdom was described by all three of them. While on his way to the Place Maubert he was subjected, say these eye-witnesses, to ‘numberless insults which they cast at him. But it was wonderful to see his self-possession and constancy, and how he passed on with a light heart. It might have been thought that he was going to a banquet.’ He alighted of his own accord from the car, and stood by the post to which they bound him by coiling chains about his body. The crowd excited against him assailed him with outcries and insults; but he bore them with unspeakable calmness. His tongue having been torn out, he could not speak; but his eyes were steadily fixed on heaven, as on the abode which he was about to enter, and whence he looked for help. The executioner covered his head with brimstone, and when[48] he had finished showed him with a threatening air the lighted torch with which he was going to set fire to the pile. The young martyr made a sign that he would willingly suffer this death. ‘This youth,’ says Knobelsdorf, one of the eye-witnesses, ‘seemed to be raised to a more than human elevation.’ ‘This most happy end,’ says another witness, Crespin, ‘confirmed those who had begun to have some sense of the truth, to which the Lord gave before our eyes a true and living testimony in the person of Claude.'[84]

James had employed his leisure hours in composing in Spanish a catechism which he thought adapted to impress on the minds of his countrymen the great truths of the Gospel. Confirmed in his faith by the martyrdom of Claude Lepeintre, weary of his Paris life, and anxious to publish his work, he went to Louvain and thence to Antwerp. This town offered facilities for printing it, and the ships bound for Spain easily conveyed the books when printed into that country. Francis, on his return from Paris, stayed for some time in Belgium, and next went to Wittenberg, where freedom of studies was possible, and where Melanchthon was to be found.

John Enzinas, the youngest of the three brothers, was also a lover of the Gospel; but he led a more peaceful life than the elder ones. He had chosen the medical profession, and had settled in Germany. He became a professor at the university of Marburg, and acquired a certain reputation by his works on medicine and astronomy, and by the invention of various instruments useful for the advancement of those sciences. But in the annals of the Reformation his name is less conspicuous than those of his brothers.

Another young Spaniard, like the Enzinas a native of[49] Burgos, and a friend of theirs, was in 1540 at Antwerp, whither James had already gone, and Francis likewise was to go. San Romano, of whom we have previously made mention, had devoted himself to trade, and his business affairs had called him into the Netherlands. There was a fair-time at Antwerp, during which it was usual for the merchants of various countries to settle their accounts. As San Romano was a very intelligent young man, and was, moreover, already acquainted with the merchants of Bremen, he was commissioned by their creditors, his countrymen, to go to Bremen to claim and receive what was owing to them. Another Spaniard was associated with him. It will be remembered that Jacob Spreng, provost of the Augustines of Antwerp, had taken refuge in this town after his escape from the persecutions of the inquisitors. He was now preaching the Gospel there with much power.[85] San Romano, whose business had not concluded so quickly as he might have wished, was desirous of learning something about the doctrine which was being preached in Germany, and which was hated in Spain. Although he knew very little of German, he entered the church. He drew near, he listened, and his attention was soon riveted. To his great surprise he understood the whole sermon.[86] He was intensely interested, enlightened, and convinced. He felt pierced as by an arrow from the hand of God,[87] and was greatly moved. The orator’s discourse made his heart burn within him.[88] Something new and strange was going on. No sooner was the service over than, forgetting all matters of business, he hastened to the preacher. The latter received him with much kindness and took him to his house.


There, when they were alone, San Romano recalled to Spreng what he had said, repeating the whole discourse as if he had learnt it by heart. He told him the impressions which it had produced on his heart, and thus earnestly entreated him: ‘Pray explain to me more clearly this doctrine which I begin to relish, but which I do not yet thoroughly understand.’ The pastor marvelled at the vehemence of the young man and at his sudden conversion. The liveliness of his new-born faith, which seemed resolved to subdue every thing, this first ardor of a striking transformation, astonished him. He counselled San Romano to restrain himself and not to fail in prudence; but at the same time he taught him carefully and kindly the great truths of salvation. San Romano remained for three days in the pastor’s house. Nothing could induce him to go out. He had seemingly forgotten the business on which he had come to Bremen. A divine light shone more and more clearly in his mind. During these three days he was completely changed, like Paul at Damascus, and became a new man.[89]

When this time had elapsed, San Romano went to pay some attention to his business, entrusted it to his companion, and then several times returned to converse further with his new guide. The words of the Gospel had laid hold on him; they were his only theme of thought by day, his only dream by night.[90] He would not miss one of Spreng’s sermons. When he returned to his abode he wrote them down and then read them over to the pastor. More than this—he openly professed the truth which he had learned. ‘This man,’ thought Spreng, ‘is certainly not like the rest of the world. Other men make a gradual progress, but he has learnt all in a few days. He seems to be saturated with the Word of God, although[51] apparently he has read so little of it. He despises the world and the life of the world; he despises every thing for Christ, whose Word he fearlessly spreads abroad.'[91] He was anxious not only for the salvation of those about him, but wrote long letters to his friends at Antwerp. ‘I give thanks to God,’ he said to them, ‘who led me to a man by whose instrumentality I found Jesus Christ, my true Saviour, and from whom I have gained a knowledge of the Holy Scriptures, which I can not sufficiently prize.’ He exhorted them all to turn to God, if they would not perish forever with those who led them astray. Lamenting the cruelty of Spain and the blindness of the Spaniards, ‘Alas!’ he said, ‘they will not open their eyes to contemplate the glorious light of the Gospel, nor give attentive ear or mind to the manifest counsels of God who calls them to repentance.’ He therefore formed a resolution. ‘I purpose,’ said he, ‘returning to Antwerp, to see whether the light of divine knowledge may not enlighten the hearts of my friends. I shall then proceed to Spain, to endeavor to convert to the true worship of God my relations and our whole city, which is at present shrouded in the horrible darkness of idolatry.'[92] In the ardor of his first love, San Romano imagined that nothing could resist a truth, all the sweetness and power of which he himself knew so well. But, alas! it was by the flames of martyrdom that he was destined to illuminate his country.

His zeal no longer knew any limits. He wrote to Charles the Fifth earnestly conjuring him to acknowledge worthily the great benefits of God, by faithfully fulfilling his duty. ‘Allay the dissensions of Christendom,’ he said, ‘that the glory of God may by your means be[52] made manifest in the world; re-establish in Spain and in every country which is subject to your sway the pure doctrine of Christ our Saviour.’ San Romano wrote thus two or three times to the emperor. At the same time he wrote some evangelical books in Spanish. All this was done in one month, or at most in forty days, while he was awaiting the answer to the letters which he had written to Antwerp.

These had been well received by his friends, and they had instantly understood from what malady he was suffering.[93] Far from thinking of their own salvation as he implored them, they only thought how to ruin him, and set all their ingenuity to work to entrap him. ‘Ah!’ they wrote in terms of endearment, ‘if only you return to Antwerp, the great things of which you speak will, without the least doubt, be accomplished.’ At the same time they came to an understanding with the Dominican monks, some of whom they appointed to watch for the moment at which he should enter the city. ‘You are to seize on him,’ said they, ‘you are to question him about his father, and if he differs from you in the least on this subject you are to put him to death, or throw him into some pit in which he will be buried as a living corpse.'[94]

The poor man, whom the answer of his friends had filled with hope and joy, mounted on horseback, saying to himself that he should be able without great difficulty to convert all the Spaniards to the true religion. He arrived, passed the gates, and entered the town; but all at once the monks in ambush surrounded him, dragged him from his horse, and led him off as a prisoner to the house of a tradesman who was devoted to their cause.[95] There they bound him hand and foot and began search[53]ing his baggage. They found in it a good many books in German, French, and Latin; some were by Luther, others by Melanchthon, and the rest by Œcolampadius and other equally suspected authors. They even discovered, to their great horror, insulting pictures of the pope. They turned angrily to him, saying, ‘Thou art a perfect Lutheran.’ San Romano, having fallen so unexpectedly into an ambush, was confused, excited, and inflamed with wrath. He was a true Spaniard, calm while nothing disturbed him, but when hurt in any way, giving vent to the passions of a soul on fire. He had known the Gospel too short a time to have become wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove. He was no longer master of himself. ‘You are rascals,'[96] he exclaimed. ‘I am not a Lutheran, but I profess the eternal wisdom of the Son of God, whom ye hate. And as to your dreams, your impostures, your corrupt doctrines, I abhor them with all my heart.’ ‘What, then, is thy religion?’ asked the monks. ‘I believe in God the Father, Creator of all,’ replied San Romano, ‘and I believe in God the Son, Jesus Christ, who redeemed mankind by his blood, and who by delivering them from the bondage of the devil, of sin, and of death, established them in the liberty of the Gospel.’ ‘Dost thou believe,’ asked the monks, ‘that the pope of Rome is the vicar of Christ, that all the treasures of the church are in his hands, and that he has power to make new articles of faith and to abolish the others?’ ‘I believe nothing of the sort,’ exclaimed San Romano, horrified. ‘I believe that the pope, like a wolf, disperses, leads astray, and tears in pieces the poor sheep of Jesus Christ.’ ‘He blasphemes!’ said the Spaniards. ‘You shall be put to death, and by fire,’ cried the monks. ‘I am not afraid to die,’ replied he, ‘for him who shed his blood for me.’ The monks then lighted a fire; but they contented themselves with burning all his books before his face. But when he saw the New Testament[54] thrown into the flames, he could contain himself no longer. ‘He is mad,’ said the Spaniards; and they carried him, bound, to a certain tower, six leagues from Antwerp, where they kept him for eight months in a dark dungeon. Admitting, however, that a want of moderation was excusable in the state of extreme agitation into which he was thrown, his fellow-countrymen caused him to be set at liberty.

San Romano then betook himself to Louvain, knowing that he should find there friends of the Gospel. Here he met with Francis Enzinas, who had not yet set out for Paris, and who, knowing the inexperience, boldness, and zeal of his countryman, and the dangers which awaited him, spoke to him frankly and wisely, advising him not to undertake, as he had purposed, the conversion of all Spain. ‘Remain,’ said he, ‘in the calling to which God has called you; you may be able to do much good in your business. Do not set yourself to speak about religion to every person whom you meet, nor to cry out like a madman at the top of your voice in the streets and public places. Perhaps you may not be able to reply to the arguments of your adversaries, nor to confirm your own by good authorities. If God has need of you he will call you, and it will be time then to expose yourself to every peril.’ ‘You say truly,’ replied San Romano, ‘and for the future[97] I will speak more modestly.’

But there was in this young man a fire which nothing could extinguish. His ruling passion was the desire to do every thing in his power which he believed calculated to save mankind and to glorify God. He had a wonderful fervency of spirit which prompted him to perpetual efforts, even to what many would, perhaps, call an excess of piety and charity. This has often been the case with the most eminent Christians. The words of Scripture were true of him: The zeal of thine house hath eaten me up. Scarcely had he promised Enzinas to be more prudent,[55] when he set out with a few friends for Ratisbon, where the Imperial Diet had been opened in April (1541), and where Charles the Fifth then was. The prince was showing, as they said, much favor towards the Protestants. He desired, in fact, to obtain the support of the evangelical party for the war against the Turks, who were attacking Austria.[98] San Romano, therefore, believed the moment to be favorable for attempting the conversion of Charles. He did not mention his design to his companions. While, however, he went on his way in silence, he reasoned within himself that the truth of the Gospel was obvious, and that if the emperor, whom the Spaniards regarded as master of the world, should once receive it, he would spread it abroad throughout Christendom, and throughout the whole world. And he thought that if vulgar fears should hinder him from speaking to Charles, he would be taking upon himself an immense responsibility.

No sooner had he arrived at Ratisbon than he requested and obtained an audience of the emperor. He entreated him to make use of his power to repress the fanatical proceedings of the Inquisition. ‘Sire,’ said he, ‘the true religion is to be found amongst the Protestants, and the Spaniards are sunk in abominable errors. Receive worthily the true doctrine of the Son of God, which is proclaimed so clearly in the Germanic churches. Repress all cruelty, re-establish the true worship of God in your states, and cause the doctrine of salvation to be proclaimed throughout the world.’ Long and bold as San Romano’s discourse was, the emperor listened to it very patiently. It was not mere ranting.[99] ‘I have this matter much at heart,’ replied Charles, pleasantly, ‘and I will spare no pains for it.’ San Romano withdrew full of hope.


A conference was now going on at Ratisbon between the Romanists and the evangelical party, who, at the emperor’s request, were endeavoring to come to an agreement. Charles’s moderation might well be the result of his desire to do nothing which might interfere with an arrangement. But no desire was manifested to render justice to the Reformation. On the contrary, Luther wrote to the Elector of Saxony: ‘All this is only pure popish deceit. It is impossible to bring Christ and the Serpent to an agreement.'[100] Fanatical Catholics, both Germans and Spaniards, were already indulging in acts of cruelty towards the evangelical Christians. At this spectacle San Romano felt his hopes vanish. He did not, however, lose heart; but appealed a second and a third time with great boldness to the emperor, receiving none but gracious replies from him.

The Spaniards in Charles’s suite were less politic than himself, and they displayed much irritation at the language of their countryman. When, therefore, the young Christian of Burgos desired to speak a fourth time with the monarch, they had him carried off and put into prison. Their fury rose to the highest pitch, and weary of the consideration shown to him, they were about to seize the audacious young man and throw him without further ceremony into the Danube.[101] The emperor prevented this, and ordered him to be tried according to the laws of the empire. He was then thrown into a deep dungeon, where he was kept in chains. According to some accounts, he was bound to the wheels of a chariot, dragged in the train of the emperor, and even transported to Africa,[102] whither Charles at this time betook[57] himself on a famous expedition. This story appears to us very improbable. However that may be, on the day when he was released from prison he was cruelly bound and chained together with real criminals, without the least regard to his social position or the cause for which he had been arrested, and thus conducted on a miserable cart either into Africa or into Spain. One of the Spaniards who had accompanied him on the way from Louvain to Ratisbon approached the cart, and, surprised at the barbarous manner in which his friend was treated, asked him, ‘What is the meaning of this? Why are you here in company with criminals and treated with such ignominy?’ Poor San Romano, constant in his faith and hope, raised his arms as high as he could, saying, ‘Do you see these iron chains? They will procure me in the presence of God greater honors than all the pomp and magnificence of the emperor’s court. O glorious bonds! you will soon shine like a crown of precious stones. You see, my brother, how my arms and legs are bound and how my whole body, weighed down by these irons, is fastened to the cart, without being able to stir. But all these bonds can not prevent my spirit, over which the emperor has no authority, from being perfectly free,[103] nor from rising to the dwelling of the eternal Father to contemplate heavenly things, nor from being there continually refreshed by the sweet society of saints. Ah! would to God that the bonds of this mortal body were already severed and that my soul could even now take flight to my heavenly home! It is my firm assurance, that soon, instead of these transient chains, everlasting joy in the glorious presence of God will be given me by the just Judge.’ Such was the faith of the martyrs of the Reformation. There was something within them that was free, liberrimus animus. There the em[58]peror had nothing to command, nothing to say. Thus it was that after the night and bondage of the Middle Ages, our modern freedom took its rise. Holy and glorious origin! San Romano’s friend was so astonished and touched by these words that he ‘shed a torrent of tears.’ His grief was so intense that he could not speak, and answered only by tears and sighs. But soon the guards, noticing perhaps this conversation, drove on at a great rate, and the friends were separated.[104]

San Romano on his arrival in Spain was delivered over to the Inquisition of Valladolid. The inquisitors threw him into a dark prison, ‘a most horrible subterranean hole,’ says the French translator. They subjected him to far more cruel treatment than he had ever experienced from the soldiers; and he suffered more than in the great dangers which he had incurred at sea, from the chains with which he was loaded, and a thousand other torments. This took place in 1542, and San Romano remained in prison about two years.[105]



While these events were passing, Francis Enzinas was working at Wittenberg under the eye of Melanchthon at his translation of the New Testament. The work was at last completed, and there remained only to print it and send it to Spain. For this purpose Enzinas was to go to Antwerp. He set off, therefore, from Wittenberg[59] in the month of January, 1543, just after his friend San Romano had been confined in the dungeons of Valladolid. He first proceeded, by very bad roads, and in the midst of winter, to Embden, where he wished to see John Alasco. ‘We conferred on several matters, which he has no doubt communicated to you,’ wrote Francis to Melanchthon. Thence he went to the convent of Adnard, in the neighborhood of Groningen, where Hardenberg then was. This man’s regard for the Gospel had abated, and he had determined to pass the rest of his days in peace in his convent. Enzinas endeavored to induce him openly to profess the doctrine of the Gospel. In this he succeeded. Hardenberg left the convent and went to Cologne. Francis went to Louvain, where he arrived in March, 1543.[106]

The moment was not favorable. The Inquisition and the secular power itself were both preparing their terrors. There was an under-current of agitation in the city; hatred or fear was everywhere rife. Enzinas had many friends in the city; but knowing that he came from Wittenberg, and pretending that he ‘smelt of sulphur,’ those with whom he was most intimate, far from lavishing on him marks of tender affection, as formerly, remained mute and trembled in his presence. He well understood the reason. The very day after his arrival, the Attorney-General, Peter du Fief, cast into prison, as we have seen elsewhere,[107] all of the evangelical party who fell into his hands. An uncle whom Enzinas had at Antwerp, Don Diego Ortega, invited him to go and see him, and he was received in that town with open arms. At this period he was alternately at Antwerp, Brussels, and Louvain.

The persecution which had befallen a great number of his friends now absorbed all his thoughts; but when the storm had somewhat abated, his project of publish[60]ing his Spanish translation of the New Testament again engaged his attention. Being modest, as distinguished men generally are, he felt some hesitation when he considered how great an enterprise it was, especially for a young man like himself. ‘I do not wish,’ he said, ‘to accomplish this work in obedience to my own impulse alone.’ He therefore consulted several men belonging to different nations and eminent for their learning and wisdom. All of them approved his project, and begged him to hasten the printing. ‘Since the birth of Jesus Christ,’ said some of the monks, even among the superstitious, ‘so great a benefit has never been offered to the Spanish people.’ ‘I could wish,’ said another, ‘to see that book printed, were it even with my own blood.'[108] Enzinas took another step even more humble, and which might have compromised him. It was necessary that theological books should receive the sanction of the faculty of theology. ‘Assuredly,’ said Enzinas, ‘this was never required, nor ought to be required, for the Holy Scriptures. But no matter.’ He sent his translation to the dean of Louvain by a monk of his acquaintance. The members of the faculty, after conferring together, replied, ‘We do not know Spanish; but we know that every heresy in the Netherlands proceeded from reading the sacred books in the vulgar tongue. It would, therefore, be advisable not to furnish the common people in Spain with an opportunity of refuting the decrees of the Church by the words of Jesus Christ, the prophets, and the apostles.[109] But since the emperor has not forbidden it, we give neither permission nor prohibition.’ This reply was at least candid and ingenuous.

Enzinas did not pay much regard to the advice of the theologians of Louvain; but the work would have had a[61] much larger circulation if it had been sent out under their sanction. Now both prudence and zeal incited him to do every thing to ensure the success of his enterprise. Having met with this refusal, he contented himself with communicating his manuscript to Spanish scholars, who declared that they had collated the most important passages, and had found the translation very faithful. They urged him, therefore, to hasten the publication of so beneficial a work.[110] He now went once more to Antwerp, intending to have his book printed there; but he was soon to discover that his application to the theologians of the university of Louvain, by spreading in a certain circle a report of his enterprise, sufficed to throw great obstacles in his way.

There were, in fact, at this time in the Low Countries dignitaries of the Spanish Church whose eyes were open and who would not fail to use every effort to hinder the printing of the Holy Scriptures in Spanish. Amongst others was the archbishop of Compostella, Don Gaspar d’Avalos, a man whom Spanish devotees considered, on account of the perfection of his ultramontane doctrine, as a divinity among mortals,[111] but whom men of sound judgment regarded as a fanatic. Filled with abhorrence for the holy doctrine of the Gospel, he took every opportunity of contending against and uprooting it. He was the first to oppose the translation of Enzinas. ‘To publish the New Testament in Spanish,’ said he, ‘is a crime worthy of death.’ One day, when the archbishop and the translator were both at Antwerp, the former preached. The Spaniards, who were at this time numerous at Antwerp, were present, and many others came out of mere curiosity. Enzinas slipped into the church, and, wishing to hear well, succeeded in placing himself close to the[62] illustrious preacher. The latter, according to the taste of the Romish priests, delivered a controversial sermon, and it must be confessed that he had reasons for doing so. He thundered against the books which set forth the doctrine of the Gospel. He did not preach, said Enzinas, he vociferated, and strove by furious clamor to stir up his audience and excite the people to sedition.[112] He went even further. Without naming Enzinas, he hurled covert words at him, never suspecting that the man whom he was attacking was sitting close by him.[113]

Francis, whether after or before this sermon we do not know, went to Stephen Meerdmann the printer, and the following conversation took place:—

Enzinas: ‘Are you willing to print a Spanish translation of the New Testament?’

Meerdmann: ‘Quite willing; such a work is desired by many.’

Enzinas: ‘Is there any need of a license?’

Meerdmann: ‘The emperor has never forbidden the printing of the Holy Scriptures, and the New Testament has been printed at Antwerp in almost every European language. If your translation is faithful it may be printed without permission.’

Enzinas: ‘Then prepare your presses; I take the responsibility of the translation; do you take that of the publication. Of course I bear the cost myself.’

There was nothing underhand in all this. The enterprise of Enzinas was well known, and some approved, while others blamed it. Any one who wished was admitted to the translator’s house. One day, when he had some members of his family with him, and before he had[63] sent the copy to the printer, an old Dominican monk, who scented some heretical design underneath it all, presented himself at his door. After the customary salutations, he took up the first page which lay on the table in manuscript and contained the title and an epistle to the emperor. The monk read: The New Testament, that is, the New Covenant of our Redeemer and only Saviour Jesus Christ. Francis had said Covenant because he had noticed that the word Testament was not well understood; and he had inserted the word only before the word Saviour to dissipate the error so common among the Spaniards, of admitting other saviours besides the Son of God. ‘Covenant,’ said the monk; ‘your translation is faithful and good, but the word Covenant grates on my ears; it is a completely Lutheran phrase.’ ‘No, it is not a phrase of Luther’s,’ said Enzinas, ‘but of the prophets and apostles.’ ‘This is intolerable,’ resumed the monk; ‘a youth, born but yesterday or the day before,[114] claims to teach the wisest and oldest men what they have taught all their life long! I swear by my sacred cowl[115] that your design is to administer to men’s souls the poisonous beverages of Luther, craftily mixing them with the most holy words of the New Testament.’ Then turning to the relatives of Enzinas, he began to rail like a madman, endeavoring by tragical words to excite his own family against him. Indeed, the monk had scarcely finished, when Francis was surrounded by his relatives, beseeching him, for the love of them, to erase the unlucky word. He did so, in order not to offend them, but he left standing the phrase only Saviour, to which the monk did not object. He then sent the sheets to the printer who put it to press and worked off a large number.


Having received this first printed sheet, Enzinas, through excess of caution, communicated it to a Spaniard of his acquaintance, an elderly, well-informed, and influential man. ‘Only Saviour!’ cried he, on seeing the title. ‘If you will be advised by me, omit the word only, which will give rise to grave suspicions.’ Enzinas explained his reasons. The Spaniard acknowledged the truth of the doctrine, but denied the expediency of putting it so prominently forward. The word was omitted, and the sheet had to be reprinted.[116] The whole edition was some time after ready to appear.

It was now the beginning of November, 1543. The emperor had just made war against the Duke of Cleves, had conquered him, and had obtained by the treaty of Venloo a portion of the states of that prince. The duke’s mother, the Princess Mary, a clever woman, had died of grief and indignation;[117] but the emperor was proud of his achievements, and thought only of following up his triumphs of every kind. It was to his Spanish troops in particular that Charles owed this victory. A great number of Spaniards of every rank accompanied him, and he had just appointed as his confessor a Dominican from the Peninsula, Pedro de Soto, who was afterwards the first theologian of Pius IV., in the third convocation of the Council of Trent. At this time Soto ranked, both in the Low Countries and in Germany, among the most zealous of the Romish priests. He sought to gain over ignorant minds, and knew how to insinuate himself into the good graces of the great. As he had the emperor’s conscience at his disposal he ‘instilled into him his ven[65]om,[118] thus perverting the sentiments of a prince who was full of clemency,’ says Enzinas. But this supposed benignity on Charles’s part was an illusion. Policy was his great guiding motive, and he was merciful or harsh, according as the interests of his ambition required. It is, however, true that Soto endeavored both by his sermons and otherwise to inflame men’s minds, and especially that of Charles, against those whom he called heretics. Whenever the Dominican preached before Charles the Fifth and his court, he was to be seen entering the church in a lowly manner, his head sunk between his shoulders, his cowl pulled over his forehead, his eyes fixed on the ground, and his hands clasped.[119] One would have thought him a man dead to the world, who contemplated only heavenly things, and who would not harm a fly.[120] He mounted the pulpit, threw back his cowl and gravely saluted the emperor, and the princes and lords who surrounded him. Then he began his sermon, speaking with a low voice and slow enunciation, but clearly and firmly, so that his words sank the more impressively into men’s hearts. He recalled with enthusiasm the religion of their ancestors and extolled the piety and zeal of Charles. Then, affecting to be more and more moved, he deplored with sighs and tears the ruin of religion and the attacks made upon the dignity of the priest, and conjured the emperor to tread in the way marked out for him by his predecessors. Having thus by feigned modesty insinuated himself into the hearts of his audience, he raised his head boldly, gave vent to the passion by which he was animated, and brought into play the powerful artifices suggested to him by the Evil[66] One.[121] He hurled the thunders of his eloquence at his adversaries; he aimed a thousand shafts at them, and subdued his audience. But if his violence took the assembly by surprise, he shocked many, who thought with amazement: ‘We might fancy we were listening to a man who had descended from the abode of the gods on Olympus to announce the secrets he had learned from Jupiter,’ ‘He was seized,’ said one of his hearers, ‘with a diabolical fury, and seemed like a priest of the mysteries, gesticulating and leaping in a chorus of the Furies.'[122] He laid siege to the mind of the emperor, and inflamed the princes with hatred of the divine doctrine. This he distorted and defamed; and he strove by all means to extinguish the salutary light of the Gospel which God had rekindled in the midst of the darkness. Turning towards the emperor and the princes, he proclaimed in a prophetic voice, that God would not be favorable to them until they should have destroyed the apostates with fire and sword. He did not conclude his discourse till he thought he had constrained his hearers by his thundering eloquence to burn all the Lutherans.

Nevertheless it was quite manifest that the emperor did not always use such diligence as De Soto demanded of him in his seditious discourses. Disquieted, therefore, and saddened because the monarch appeared ‘backward to persecution,’ he appealed to him in private, urging him to make confession; and it was in the retired chamber in which he received as a penitent the master of the world that he sought, by striking great blows, to drive Charles on to persecution. ‘Most sacred Majesty,’ he said, ‘you are the monarch whom God has raised to the highest pitch of honor, in order that you may defend the Church and take vengeance on impiety, and I am the[67] man whom God has appointed to govern your conscience. Power has been given me, as your majesty is aware, to remit and to retain sins. If your majesty does not purify the Church from pollution, I can not absolve you, ego non possum te absolvere.’ He even menaced him with the anger of God and the pains of hell. Charles, who was easily intimidated—even, as we know, by the approach of a comet—’imagined himself already plunged into the abyss of hell.'[123] The monk, perceiving this, pressed his point, and did not pronounce absolution until he had extorted from the sovereign a promise to put the heretics to death.

This narrative by a contemporary appears to us perfectly authentic. There is, however, one point on which we can not follow it. We do not believe that De Soto was a hypocrite and employed fraud and treason, as this author seems to think. Charles’s confessor was, we believe, a fanatic, but a sincere fanatic; he really believed himself to be prosecuting error.

No sooner had De Soto obtained the promise of Charles than he hastened to Granvella. It was said at court that these two personages had made a compact, by virtue of which the first minister never thwarted the confessor in matters of religion. It might be so; but we believe that Charles did not lightly submit his designs to the fanaticism of the priests, nor would he, we repeat, give them the rein unless it suited his policy.

On November 24, 1543, Charles the Fifth, after having signed the treaty of Venloo, entered Brussels, probably by the Louvain gate. Another personage entered the city at the same time, but by the Antwerp gate. This was Francis Enzinas. He had, as we have said, dedicated his translation to the emperor. ‘Most sacred majesty,’ said he in this dedication, ‘owing to versions of the Holy Scriptures, all men can now hear Jesus Christ and[68] his apostles speak in their own languages of the mysteries of our redemption, on which the salvation and the consolation of our souls depend. New versions are now continually being published in every kingdom of Christendom, in Italy, in Flanders, and in Germany, which is flooded with them. Spain alone remains isolated in her corner at the extremity of Europe. My desire is to be useful, according to my abilities, to my country. I hope that your majesty will approve of my work and protect it with your royal authority.’ This dedication was dated from Antwerp, October 1, 1543.

Enzinas did not wish his book to be offered for sale until he had presented it to the emperor; and he had come to Brussels to confer with his friends as to where he would have to go and how he should proceed. As soon as he had arrived he directed his steps towards the palace, where, no doubt, one of his acquaintances resided. On approaching he saw to his great surprise the emperor himself; just arriving at court, surrounded by a numerous suite.[124] At this sight Francis greatly rejoiced. ‘What a happy augury!’ thought he; ‘this opportune meeting should certainly give me hope that my business will succeed.’

The question now was, how to get access to Charles. Francis de Enzinas, whose family occupied an honorable position, had several distinguished kinsmen and friends at court,[125] to whom he could apply. He went, therefore, to their houses, but learned to his great disappointment that some of them had not yet arrived at Brussels; and having visited the others, he found that these great personages were infidels who scoffed at religion as something far beneath them. For them it was only an instrument of government, and they were not at[69] all inclined to compromise themselves with the emperor by becoming patrons of Lutheranism. Enzinas withdrew, disappointed in his expectations. ‘Certainly,’ said he, ‘I will not ask them to use their influence in favor of a work which they detest. Moreover, as I am connected with them either by friendship or by blood, I am unwilling to annoy them, or do them harm.’ What, then, was to be done?

There was one bishop at court who was in high favor with the emperor. This was Don Francisco de Mendoza, son of the first marquis of Mondejar, bishop of Jaen, a town not far from Granada and Cordova. He was a man in the prime of life, grave, candid, and open-hearted, pure in life, and a lover of piety. Enzinas went one Saturday to the palace in which the bishop lived. The latter received his young and noble fellow-countryman affectionately, and on learning that he came to speak with him about his translation of the New Testament he displayed the liveliest interest in the work.[126] ‘I offer you my services in the matter,’ said he, ‘and I will use all my influence with the emperor, to induce him to receive your work favorably. Return to me to-morrow, and we will then see his majesty.’ The next day was Sunday. A great crowd was stirring in the palace, and magnificent preparations were being made for a high mass which was to be celebrated before the emperor. There was a considerable number of musicians, instruments, and singers. Enzinas shrunk back at the sight of these preparations. ‘I will return to the town to see some of my learned friends,’ he said, ‘and leave them to perform their play at their leisure.’

After mass he came again. The bishop sent for him and took him into a hall where a table was prepared for the emperor’s dinner. Charles arrived shortly after, followed by a great number of princes and lords. He[70] entered with much dignity and sat down to table alone.[127] The bishop and Enzinas stood opposite to him during the repast. The hall was quite filled with princes and nobles. Some of them waited at table, some poured out the wine, and others removed the dishes. All eyes were fixed upon one man alone. Charles the Fifth sat there like an idol surrounded by its worshippers. But he was quite equal to the part which he had to play. Enzinas observed attentively the gravity of his appearance, the features of his countenance, the grace of his movements, and the heroic grandeur which seemed a part of his nature. The young Spaniard was so deeply plunged in meditation that he forgot the purpose which had brought him there. At last he bethought himself of it; but the great number of princes and lords around him and the interview which he was to have with the emperor seemed to him something so extraordinary that he was seized with fear. A sense of the greatness of his cause however, restored to him some confidence. ‘Ah!’ thought he, ‘if all the princes in the world were assembled here I should look upon them as ordained of God to bring my project to a successful issue.’ Then again the thought of addressing this august, mysterious being, who sat there alone and silent, waited upon by the greatest personages of the empire, excited within him the liveliest emotion. Amidst his agitation these words of Scripture came to his mind: I will speak of thy testimonies also before kings, and will not be ashamed. These words frequently and fervently repeated in his inmost soul[128] revived his sinking courage. ‘Nothing to me now,’ said he, ‘are all the powers of the world and the fury of men who would oppose the oracles of God.’


When dinner was finished and divers ceremonies completed, the emperor rose and remained standing for a while, leaning on a slender staff magnificently ornamented, and as if he were in expectation that some one might wish to speak with him. The first to present himself was a distinguished general who enjoyed high authority and whose exploits rendered him dear to Charles. He delivered to him some letters, and having kissed his hand immediately retired. The bishop of Jaen was the next to come forward, holding by the hand Francis de Enzinas. The bishop, in a few grave words, recommended to the notice of Charles the work which was dedicated to him, and which was worthy, he said, of much honor. The emperor then turned to Enzinas, and the following conversation took place:—

The Emperor: ‘What book do you present to me?’

Enzinas: ‘The New Testament, your imperial majesty, faithfully translated by me, and containing the Gospel history and the letters of the apostles. I pray your majesty to recommend this work to the nation by your approval.’

‘Are you, then, the author of this book?'[129]

‘No, sire, the Holy Spirit is its author. He breathed inspiration into holy men of God, who gave to mankind in the Greek language these divine oracles of our salvation. I, for my part, am but the feeble instrument who has translated this book into our Spanish tongue.’

‘Into Castilian?’

‘Yes, your imperial majesty, into our Castilian tongue, and I pray you to become its patron.’

‘What you request shall be done, provided there be nothing in the work open to suspicion.’

‘Nothing, sire, unless the voice of God speaking from heaven, and the redemption accomplished by his only Son, Jesus Christ, are to be objects of suspicion to Christians.’

‘Your request will be granted if the book be such as[72] you and the bishop say.’ The emperor took the volume and entered an adjoining apartment.

Enzinas was in amazement. The emperor to imagine that he was the author of the New Testament, and that the Gospel could contain any thing suspicious! He could hardly repress words which would have ill-suited the place where he was. ‘O thing unheard of!’ said he within himself, ‘and enough to make one shed tears of blood!'[130] Shortly afterwards, by the bishop’s advice, he returned to Antwerp.

The next day the emperor ordered the bishop of Jaen to hand over the volume to a certain Spanish monk, a very celebrated man, fully capable of judging of the translation, and to request him to give his opinion on the subject. The bishop accordingly delivered the book to this personage. Now this monk was De Soto, the confessor of Charles V. When the prelate saw the confessor again, the latter said: ‘This book pleases me; I highly approve of it; there are only a few remarks of little importance to make on the translation…. I should like to see the author and speak to him about it.’ Enzinas communicated the invitation which he received to go to Brussels to some of his friends and relations at Antwerp. ‘Your return to Brussels,’ said they, ‘would expose you to great danger.[131] If you wish to fall into the hands of your enemies, go; but understand that in so doing you act with more boldness than prudence.’ ‘I will go,’ said he, ‘to render an account of my work, and this in spite of whatever may happen. I will omit nothing that is useful or necessary to the advancement of the glory of God.’ He accordingly set out.

Enzinas met with the most friendly reception from the bishop of Jaen, who encouraged him with the best of hopes. The prelate, being indisposed, ordered his stew[73]ard to accompany his young friend next day to the confessor’s, at the Dominican convent. Enzinas went thither at eight o’clock in the morning, in order to be sure of finding him; but he was told that De Soto was at the house of M. de Granvella. This was Nicholas Perrenot de Granvella, chancellor to the emperor and father to the famous cardinal. Enzinas returned at ten o’clock, and received the same answer; at noon—still the same. ‘We shall wait for him,’ said Enzinas.

At one o’clock the confessor arrived, and the steward having introduced Enzinas, the monk threw back his cowl and bowed his whole body, as if worshipping a saint or saluting a prince. ‘Don Francis,’ said he, ‘I esteem myself very happy in having the pleasure of seeing you to-day; I love you as my own brother, and I have a high appreciation of the grace which has been given you. I am naturally disposed to be fond of men of intelligence and learning, but especially of those who apply themselves to religion, literature, and the advancement of the glory of God. There is so much sloth, so much corruption in our age, that if one of our nation is raised up to promote these excellent things, it is a great honor to Spain. I offer you, therefore all that lies in my power. This is certainly the due of one by whose means the Spaniards are to recover the great treasure of heavenly doctrine.[132] But,’ added he, ‘I can not attend to this matter just now. Come back to me at four o’clock.’ Enzinas left the monastery and went to one of his friends, a learned and God-fearing man, who implored him not to trust to the monk, for he was certain that he would have cause to repent of it. ‘I will do nothing rashly,’ said Francis, ‘but if God should see fit to send me a cross, it will be for my good.’ He returned to the convent of the Dominicans, and arrived there before the appointed time.


De Soto was giving a lesson on the Acts of the Apostles to about twenty Spanish courtiers who wished to pass for lovers of literature, or perhaps to become so. Enzinas sat down quietly beside them, happy to have this opportunity of becoming acquainted with the doctrines of the monk. He was just at that passage in the first chapter, where it is said that Judas, who had betrayed the Lord, fell headlong and burst asunder in the midst. ‘Therefore,’ concluded he, ‘all traitors ought to be hung and rent asunder in the midst;'[133] and he exhorted his audience to fidelity towards the emperor, lest they should fall into the condemnation of Judas. Then coming to the election of an apostle by the assembly of the disciples:—’This method of election,’ said he, ‘was only intended for those times; since then the election has been transferred to the emperor, which is far preferable.’ Besides laying down these strange doctrines, the monk spoke incorrectly and offended the ears of his hearers by low language.[134] He did not know Latin, but with a view to make what he said more wonderful, or rather more obscure, he intermingled Latin words which were worse than barbarous, and incessantly committed grammatical errors. Enzinas, with his cultivated mind and refined scholarship, suffered tortures both from the words and the matter. ‘It was not without sighs and tears,’ said he, ‘that I listened to him.’

The lesson was finished at four o’clock. Enzinas then went up to the monk, who began anew his flattering words; but having in hand, he said, some very important business, he begged him to return at six o’clock. ‘I will willingly wait at the convent,’ said Enzinas, and he began to walk up and down the cloisters.

The confessor lost no time. He had gone to the chan[75]cellor Granvella. ‘There is a young Spaniard here,’ said he, ‘who by his labors and his efforts will soon convert the whole of Spain to Lutheranism, if we do not prevent it.[135] He has resided with Melanchthon; he discusses religion, he blames the decrees of the Church, approves the sentiments of its adversaries, and is gradually alluring every one to his opinion. To spread the evil still farther he has translated the New Testament into Spanish…. If it is allowed to be read in Spain, what troubles it will cause! How many thousand souls will be perverted from the simplicity of the faith!’ … Granvella was appalled on hearing these words, and instantly gave orders to arrest Enzinas.

At six o’clock the confessor returned to the monastery and conducted Enzinas to his apartment, cajoling him on the way with honeyed and delusive words. When he had opened the door, Francis started. ‘What monsters!’ he thought. ‘Eternal God! what a number of idols!'[136] There were four altars in the cell, and an image on each of them, St. Christopher, St. Roch, and others, enshrined in gold and surrounded by lighted tapers. Here it was that De Soto addressed his prayers to his saints.

‘Don Francis,’ said the confessor, ‘excuse me if I make you wait still longer. I have not yet finished my devotions; permit me to conclude them while I am walking. To while away the time, here is a book, and the Bible besides.’ He went out. The book was entitled: ‘On the Cause and Origin of all Heresies; by Alfonso de Castro, Franciscan.’ The author was an ignorant monk of Burgos, whom Enzinas knew by report. However, he opened the book. The cause of heresies, it was asserted, was the reading of the Bible in the vulgar tongue; and the author[76] exhorted the inquisitors to prevent the Spaniards from imbibing such poison. Enzinas, disturbed and agitated, could hardly refrain from tearing the pages. He threw the book from him. Then, on reflection, he began to wonder whether the confessor were not plotting some treason, and whether his comings and goings had any other aim than that of preparing to waylay him. In order to dissipate these gloomy ideas, he took the Latin Bible and read.

After some time De Soto came in again, and taking up the New Testament which the emperor had sent to him, he requested Enzinas to sit down beside him. Then lowering his eyebrows, and wrinkling his forehead, as though to render his appearance the more formidable, he kept silence for a while. At last he began: ‘Francis, we two have met here alone to confer upon the New Testament, in the presence of God, the angels, and the saints whom you behold on these altars. You regard the study of this book as profitable to piety, and I consider it injurious. Its prohibition has been the only means of preserving Spain from the contamination of sects. Francis, you have accomplished a most audacious enterprise, and done an impious deed in daring to publish a version of the New Testament in defiance of the laws of the emperor and your own duty to our holy religion. It is an atrocious crime which merits more than mere death. Further, you have been in Germany at the house of Philip Melanchthon; you extol his virtues and learning everywhere, and this alone is considered with us a proceeding worthy of capital punishment.[137] How deplorable it is that you, still so young, and only beginning your studies, should have fallen so low! It is my duty to consider the good of the church universal rather than the safety of a single man. Your crimes are so serious that I know not how you can escape the penalty with which you are[77] threatened.’ Enzinas was unspeakably grieved at this speech. So much superstition, impiety, and cruelty overwhelmed him. At the same time he knew that he could not escape the great dangers which were impending over him. In this Dominican house he breathed the heavy and deadly atmosphere of the Inquisition, and he seemed to behold around him its terrible features, its chains, and its instruments of torture.

Nevertheless he took courage and, bearing witness to the Gospel, extolled the unspeakable value of Holy Scripture, and set forth the reasons which he felt to be conclusive for reading it. ‘The Old and New Testaments,’ he said, ‘were given to us from heaven, and there is nothing more salutary or more essential to mankind. Apart from this book we should know nothing of the only-begotten Son of God, our Saviour, who, after having redeemed us by the sacrifice of himself, raises us to heaven to live there with him forever. This is a doctrine which was never taught by any philosopher, and is only to be drawn from these sources. Without it, all human thought is blind and barren, and no creature can obtain salvation.'[138] He said that if it were a crime to go to Germany and to confer with the scholars of that country, it was a crime which had been committed by the emperor, and by many princes and excellent men who had conversed with Melanchthon, Luther, and other doctors. He was still speaking when an unpleasant apparition silenced him. The door had opened, and a monk of hideous aspect entered the cell. His eyes were fierce, his mouth awry, his aspect threatening. Every thing about him betokened a bad man, and one who was meditating some cruel purpose. It was the prior of the Dominicans. He turned towards Enzinas, and suppressing his malice, meekly withdrew his head from his cowl, saluted him, and stated that his valet was below and was[78] come to call him to supper. This was the message agreed on between the two monks as the signal that all was ready. ‘I know the way,’ said Enzinas, who was bent on prolonging the interview; ‘I shall find my lodging without the aid of a servant; please tell him that he may return to the house.’ The prior went out. Enzinas then requested the confessor to tell him his opinion of the translation, as the emperor had asked for this, and it was indeed the object of their conference. But the signal appointed had been given, and the confessor put an end to the interview. ‘It is too late now,’ said he, ‘come again to-morrow if it suits you.’ Enzinas, therefore, fearing to be importunate, took leave of the monk, and De Soto’s servant conducted him as far as the court-yard. But gloomy thoughts were crowding into his mind. As he passed through the convent he had seen a number of monks, in a state of eagerness and excitement, some going up, others going down. In their looks he saw strange agitation and fierceness. They cast upon him sidelong glances expressive of terror; they spoke low to one another, and uttered words which Enzinas could not understand.[139] It was evident that this immoderate agitation in the monastery and among the inmates was occasioned by some unusual occurrence. Francis conjectured what it might be; it began to arouse anxiety in his breast; and he wondered whether some great blow was about to fall on him.

When he reached the court-yard a man, who was a stranger to him, but who looked civil, came up and inquired whether his name was Francis de Enzinas. He answered that it was. ‘I want to speak with you,’ said the stranger. ‘I am at your service,’ replied the young Spaniard. They then passed on towards the gate of the monastery. The vast convent of the Dominicans with its[79] outbuildings occupied a considerable part of the present site of the Mint, opposite the Theatre Royal, as well as some adjacent land. The gate by which Enzinas had to go out opened upon this place. As soon as it was unbarred he saw a large body of men armed with halberds, swords, and other weapons of war. They threw themselves upon him in a threatening manner.[140] Meanwhile the man who was in his company laid hold of his arms and said, ‘You are my prisoner.’ ‘There was no need,’ said Enzinas, ‘to assemble such a troop of executioners against a poor man like me. They should be sent against brigands. My conscience is at peace, and I am ready to appear before any judge in the world, even before the emperor. I will go to prison, into exile, to the stake, and whithersoever you may please to conduct me.’ ‘I will not take you far,’ said the unknown. ‘Had it been possible to decline the mission which I am fulfilling, I assure you that I should have done so. But the chancellor Granvella has compelled me, asserting that he had received express orders from the emperor.’ The prisoner, with his guide and his guards, crossed a small street, and arrived at the prison of the Vrunte, vulgarly called the Amigo, where the noble young man was confined, for having translated into good Spanish the Gospel of Jesus Christ. This took place on December 13, 1543.

The first four hours, from six at night till ten, were very painful. Enzinas had a lively imagination, and he saw before him great and numberless dangers, among which death seemed to be the least. All these perils were drawn up in battle array around him, and he seemed actually to see them.[141] But they did not appall him. ‘How great soever may be the perils which await me,’ he said, ‘by God’s grace I possess, for encounter[80]ing them, a courage that is stronger and greater than they are.’ Nevertheless, the treachery of the ‘wicked monk’ tormented him so much that he found it hard to endure. ‘If only,’ he thought, ‘he had made fair war on me, if from the first he had shown himself my enemy….’ He remained sunk in sorrow and dejection.

They had placed him in the apartment where all the prisoners were; but as he expressed a wish to be alone, he was conducted to an upper chamber. Weighed down with care, he was dejected and silent. The man who had brought him there looked at him and at length said, ‘Of all those who have been brought to this place, I never saw any one so distressed as you. Bethink you, brother, that God our Father cares for his children, and often leads them by a way which they do not choose. Do not, therefore, be cast down, but have good courage. Your age, your manners, your physiognomy, all bear witness to your innocence. If you have committed any offence incident to youth, remember the mercy of God.’ Francis listened with astonishment to the words of this man, and then related to him the cause of his imprisonment and the means by which it was effected. On hearing this, the man, whom he had taken for one of the jailer’s servants, appeared to be deeply affected, and going up to Francis embraced him. ‘Ah!’ said he, ‘I recognize in you a true brother; for you are a prisoner for the same Gospel for the love of which I have been enduring these bonds for eight months. You need not be surprised, brother; for it is a characteristic of the Word of God that it is never brought to light without being followed by thunders and lightnings.[142] But I hear some one coming up; let us say no more for the present.’ This man was the pious and charitable Giles Tielmans, of whom we have formerly given an account,[143] and who was afterwards burnt. From[81] this time he came to see Enzinas every morning and evening, and spoke to him so forcibly and so tenderly that Enzinas felt ready to suffer death to confirm the truth of the Gospel.

On the fourth day of his imprisonment, the imperial commissioners, members of the Privy Council, came to conduct the inquiry. They entered, with great parade and a magnificence almost royal, into the place where the prisoners were assembled. All the latter rose and retired, leaving Francis alone with the commissioners.

The examination began in Latin. ‘Francis,’ said the commissioners, ‘you are to tell us the whole truth, and in that case, although your cause is most hateful, we shall treat you with gentleness, unless we are obliged to wrest from you by force what we want to know.’ They then exhibited the papers on the basis of which they proceeded to the examination. Enzinas recognized the handwriting of the confessor of Charles the Fifth. Two crimes especially formed the subject of the inquiry. ‘Have you been to Wittenberg?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Have you been acquainted with Melanchthon?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘What do you think of him?’ Francis saw that he was caught, and that his answer would put into the hands of his enemies ‘a knife for his own throat.’ Still he did not falter. Never did this noble young man disown his friends. ‘I think,’ said he, ‘that of all the men I ever knew he is the best.'[144] ‘How can you be so impudent,’ exclaimed his judges, ‘as to speak thus of Melanchthon, a man that is a heretic and excommunicated?’

The commissioners now passed on to the second point. ‘In your translation of the epistle to the Romans, chapter iii., verse 28,’ they said, ‘we find these words printed in capitals: Therefore we conclude that a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law. For what reason,’ they continued, ‘have you had this Lutheran maxim set[82] in capital letters? It is a very grave offence, and deserves burning.'[145] ‘This doctrine was not devised in Luther’s brain,’ replied Enzinas. ‘Its source is the mysterious throne of the Eternal Father, and it was revealed to the church by the ministry of St. Paul, for the salvation of every one who believeth.’

Meanwhile the tidings of the arrest of Enzinas had burst upon Antwerp like a bomb-shell, and spread grief among all his kinsfolk and his friends. Irritated at one time by what they called the imprudence of the young man, at another filled with compassion for the calamity which had befallen him, they went without delay to Brussels, his uncle Don Diego Ortega heading the party, and proceeded direct to the prison. ‘Thou seest now,’ they said to him, ‘the fruit of thy thoughtlessness. Thou wouldst not believe what we told thee. What business hadst thou to meddle with theology, or to study the sacred writings? Thou oughtest to leave that to the monks. What hast thou got by it? Thou hast exposed thyself to a violent death, and hast brought great disgrace and lasting infamy upon thy whole race.’ When he heard these reproaches Enzinas was overpowered with bitter grief. He endeavored by great meekness and modesty to assuage the anger of his kinsmen, and entreated them not to judge of the merits of an enterprise by its result.[146] ‘I am already unhappy enough,’ said he; ‘pray do not add to my pain.’ At these words his kinsmen were affected. ‘Yes, yes,’ they said, ‘we know thy innocence; we are come to rescue thee if it be possible, or at least to mitigate thy suffering.’ They remained, indeed, a whole week at Brussels; they went frequently to the confessor and to several great lords, and earnestly entreated that Francis might be set at liberty, and es[83]pecially that the matter should not be referred to the Spanish Inquisition, since in that case his death would be inevitable. But they returned to Antwerp distressed at their failure, though not without hope.

Enzinas had gradually recovered from his excitement. Books had been brought to him, and he read them diligently. There was one work especially which made a deep impression on his mind. This was the ‘Supplication and exhortation of Calvin to the Emperor and to the States of the Empire to devote their utmost attention to the re-establishment of the church.'[147] This work was highly praised by Bucer, and Theodore Beza said of it that perhaps nothing more vigorous had been published in that age. ‘The perusal of this work while I was in prison,’ said Enzinas at a later time to Calvin, ‘inspired me with such courage that I felt more willing to face death than I had ever felt before.'[148]

But his chief delight was meditation upon the Holy Scriptures. ‘The promises of Christ,’ he said, ‘allay my sorrows, and I am wonderfully invigorated by the reading of the Psalms. Eternal God! what abundant consolation this book has afforded me! With what delight have I tasted the excellent savor of heavenly wisdom! That lyre of David so ravishes me with its divine harmony, that heavenly harp excites within me such love for the things of God, as I can find no words to express.'[149] He occupied himself in arranging some of the Psalms[150][84] in the form of prayers, and went on with his task till he had translated them all.

Francis was not satisfied with meditation alone; he joined with it deeds of unremitting zeal and charity. The prison discipline was not severe. The jailer, one John Thyssens, a man of about thirty-eight, had long carried on the trade of shoemaker, and had afterwards undertaken by contract the maintenance of the prisoners. He was very negligent in the discharge of his duties, and allowed a large measure of liberty to the prisoners and their friends. Inhabitants of Brabant, of Flanders, of Holland, of Antwerp, and gentlemen of the court came to visit Enzinas. In this way he saw nearly four hundred citizens of Brussels, among them some persons of quality. Many of them were acquainted with the Gospel; others were ardently longing for the word of God, and entreated Enzinas to make it known to them. He knew the danger to which he exposed himself by doing this, but he did not spare himself; and many gave glory to God because they had received from a poor prisoner the pearl of great price, the heavenly doctrine. ‘There are more than seven thousand people in Brussels who know the Gospel,’ they told him; ‘the whole city is friendly to it;[151] and were not the people in fear of their lives they would openly profess it.’ It was hardly possible to name a single town in Belgium or in Holland whose inhabitants had not a desire to converse with him. He was a captive who proclaimed liberty to free men. ‘The word of God,’ some of them told him, ‘is making great way amongst us. It grows and spreads day by day in the midst of the fire of persecution and the terrors of death.’ Both men and women sent him money, but this he declined to accept.

Charles the Fifth, who, as we have seen, had arrived at Brussels on November 24, 1543, only remained there[85] till January 2, 1544. On February 20 he opened the diet of Spire, demanded large aids both of infantry and cavalry, and in June set out at the head of his army for France. He took Saint-Dizier, advanced within two days’ march of Paris, causing great terror in that city, and concluded peace at Crépy. He then returned to his own dominions, and entered Brussels October 1, 1544.[152]

This news awakened hopes for Enzinas on the part of his kinsmen at Antwerp, and the most influential among them immediately set out to solicit the release of the young man. They appealed to the confessor, who was ready enough to make promises, to the chancellor Granvella, to his son the bishop of Arras, afterwards archbishop of Mechlin and cardinal, and to Claude Boissot, dean of Poligny, master of requests. They all gave kind answers, but these were words and nothing else. The queen of France visited Brussels, and a report was spread that all prisoners would at her request be liberated. Some murderers, brigands, and other malefactors were, indeed, set free; the first of them was a parricide; but Enzinas and the other evangelicals were more strictly and severely kept than before.[153] At the same time, the emperor having gone to Ghent, the monks extorted from him some laws written in blood, which were promulgated in all the towns, and which enabled them cruelly to assail the Lutherans at their own pleasure.[154] ‘On a sudden there broke out in Flanders a bloody persecution, a slaughter of Christian people, such as had never been seen or heard of.’ From all the towns, not excepting even the smallest, a great number of people and of leading men, on being warned of the danger which was impending over them, took flight, leaving their wives, their children, their fam[86]ilies, houses, and goods, which were forthwith seized by the agents of the emperor. But there was a large number who could not fly. All the towers were filled. The prisons in the towns had not room to hold the victims. They brought in two hundred prisoners at a time, both men and women. Some of them were thrust into sacks and thrown into the water; others were burned, beheaded, buried alive, or condemned to imprisonment for life. The like storm swept over Brabant, Hainault, and Artois. The unhappy witnesses of this butchery asserted that ‘for many ages so many and great cruelties had not been perpetrated, nor seen, nor heard of in all the world.’ Such was the joyful entry which Charles the Fifth made into his good country of Flanders and the good town of Ghent, in which he was born.

Tidings of these things were brought day by day into the prison at Brussels, frequently with a large number of captives. When Enzinas and his friends heard of the slaughter they were amazed and terrified. Will there be any end to this? they asked. It might well be doubted whether such men would ever be satiated with the blood of their fellow-men! Enzinas began to regret that, from confidence in his own innocence, and for fear of bringing the jailer into disgrace, he had not availed himself of several opportunities which had offered of making his escape from prison. A circumstance which soon occurred helped to bring him to a decision.

The queen of Hungary, governess of the Netherlands, who, from a strange mixture of contradictory qualities, was desirous, while obliged to execute the persecuting decrees of her brother against evangelical Christianity, to feed upon the word of God, had chosen for her chaplain one Peter Alexander, a true Christian man. This minister faithfully confessed his trust in the Saviour, both in preaching and in conversation. ‘All things needful for salvation,’ he said, ‘are contained in the Gospel. We must believe only that which is to be found in the Holy[87] Scriptures. Faith alone justifies immediately before God, but works justify a man before his fellow-men. The true indulgences are obtained without gold or silver, by trust alone in the merits of Christ. The one real sin which condemns is not to believe in Christ. The true penance consists in abstinence from sin. All the merits of Christ are communicated to men by faith, so that they are able to glory in them as much as if they were their own. We must honor the saints only by imitating their virtues. We obtain a blessing of God more easily by asking for it ourselves than through the saints.[155] No one loves God so much as he ought. All the efforts and all the labors of those who are not regenerated by the Holy Spirit are evil. The religion of the monks is hypocrisy. The fast of God is a perpetual fast, and not confined to this or that particular day. It is three hundred years since the pure and real Gospel was preached; and now whoever preaches it is considered a heretic.’

It was a strange sight, this evangelical chaplain preaching in the chapel of the most persecuting court in Christendom. Alexander, too, after being frequently accused, was at length obliged to hold a theological disputation with the confessor De Soto, in the presence of the two Granvellas. In consequence of this disputation proceedings were instituted against him. The confessor often came before the emperor and declared that the whole country would be ruined if this man were not severely punished. One day a friend of Enzinas came to see him in prison, and told him that the queen’s preacher had fled, because he found that if he stayed an hour longer he would be ruined. Alexander was tried and burnt in effigy, together with his Latin and French books. As for himself, he became first a professor at the university of Heidelberg, afterwards canon of Can[88]terbury cathedral, and finally pastor of the French church in London.

This flight brought Enzinas to a decision. On February 1, 1545, after sitting a long time at table at the evening meal, he felt more depressed than usual without knowing why. The clock struck, it was half-past seven. He then rose, as he was wont to do, not liking protracted meals, and began to pace up and down in a gloomy and dejected state, so that some of the prisoners came up to him and said—’Come, put away this melancholy.’ ‘Make you merry, the rest of you, over your cups,’ he answered; ‘but as for me I want air; I will go out.’ No one paid any attention to what he said, nor did he himself mean any thing particular when he spoke. He continued walking about, uneasy, having some difficulty in breathing, and in great distress. He thus came to the first gate, the upper part of which, constructed of strong lattice-work, allowed him to see into the street. Having approached it for the purpose of looking out, he felt the gate stir. He took hold of it and it opened easily. The second was wide open, and the third was only closed during the night. We have mentioned the negligence of the jailer. Francis was amazed at the strange circumstance. It seemed to him that God called him; he resolved to take advantage of this unlooked-for opportunity, and went out.

He reached the street and was there alone. The night was very dark, but was lighted up from time to time by the torches of passengers traversing the streets or the squares. Enzinas, keeping a little on one side, considered where he had better go. Every refuge appeared to him open to suspicion and full of danger. Suddenly he remembered one man of his acquaintance, of Christian character, in whom he placed implicit confidence. He betook himself to his place of abode and called him. ‘Come in and stay with me,’ said the man. Enzinas replied that it appeared to him the safest plan to go out[89] of the town that very night. ‘Do you know,’ he added, ‘any part of the walls at which it would be possible to clear them?’ ‘Yes,’ said the other, ‘I will guide you and will accompany you wherever you wish to go.’ The friend took his cloak and they set out. They went on their way, quite alone in the darkness, towards the walls. At night these parts were deserted. They found the spot they were seeking for, and scaled the wall. At that moment the clocks in the town struck the hour of eight.[156] Their flight had, therefore, occupied less than half an hour. These two men cleared the wall as easily as if they had prepared for it long before. Enzinas was out of the town. ‘I often found help of God,’ said he, ‘while I was in prison; but never had I experienced it as at this moment.’ He resolved to proceed that same night to Mechlin, and early the next morning to Antwerp.

A thousand thoughts thronged his mind as he went silently onwards in the darkness. The gloomy fancies of the prison-house were succeeded by joyful hopes. Much affected by his wonderful deliverance, he saw in it a mystery, a hidden will of God. ‘Assuredly,’ he said, ‘if I am set at liberty, it is to the end that I may be ready for ruder conflicts and greater dangers,’ and as he walked on he prepared himself for them by prayer. ‘O Father of our deliverer Jesus Christ, enlighten my mind, that I may know the hope of my calling, and that I may faithfully serve the church of Jesus Christ even to the latest day of my life.’

Thus, sometimes praying and sometimes conversing with the brother who accompanied him, Enzinas arrived before Mechlin; but as the gates of the town were not yet opened, he had to wait a long time. At five o’clock in the morning the officers of the town appeared, and every one was free to go in or out. As Enzinas entered[90] he saw in front of an inn a vehicle just on the point of starting, in which sat a man whose appearance was not calculated to inspire confidence. Enzinas, however, inquired of him whither he was going. The man replied, ‘To Antwerp; and if you please to get up, the carriage is quite ready.’ This man was an agent of the inquisitors, the secretary Louis de Zoëte. He was one of the great enemies of the Reformation; he had instituted the proceedings against Enzinas, and had mustered the witnesses for the prosecution. He was now on his way to Antwerp, as bearer of a sentence of condemnation issuing from the imperial court, by virtue of which he was to order the burning of any evangelicals then in prison. The meeting was not a pleasant one. Enzinas and De Zoëte had probably only casually seen each other. The young Spaniard, therefore, not recognizing his enemy, might with pleasure avail himself of his offer. In this case it was more than probable that he would be recognized during the journey by the police spy, whose business was to track and seize suspected persons, as a hunting dog tracks the game. Zoëte might possibly find means of adding another to the list of those whom he was going to burn alive. ‘Get into the carriage,’ said Enzinas to the Brussels friend who accompanied him. He got in. The door of the hotel at which Francis had knocked was not yet opened. While waiting the two friends, one in the carriage, the other in the street, were talking on various subjects; and the owner of the carriage hearing them took part likewise in the conversation. At length the door opened. ‘Go with this gentleman,’ said Francis to his friend; ‘for my part I must travel faster, and shall go on horseback.’ The people of the inn, who were acquainted with him, welcomed him with great demonstrations of joy; and on learning his position gave him a good horse. Without losing a moment he mounted and set out. He soon overtook the carriage and saluted its occupants. ‘Make good speed,'[91] said his friend. ‘I will go so fast,’ he replied, ‘that if all the scoundrels in Brussels are determined to pursue me they shall not catch me.’ It seems impossible that De Zoëte should not have heard this, and it must have given him something to think about.[157]

In two hours Enzinas was at Antwerp. Unwilling to expose his kinsmen and friends to danger, he alighted at an inn, with which he was doubtless familiar, as he had already been at Antwerp several times, and in which he believed that he should be safe. In the evening his travelling companion arrived at Antwerp. As soon as he saw Enzinas he exclaimed: ‘You will be greatly astonished to hear in what company I have come, and who it is that you talked so much with at Mechlin!’ ‘Who was he, then?’ ‘The worst man in the whole country, Louis de Zoëte.’ Enzinas thanked God that he had so spell-bound the eyes and the mind of the persecutor, that while he saw and spoke with him he had not recognized him. The next day two persons from Brussels, strangers to Enzinas, arrived at the inn. Enzinas meeting them at table or elsewhere, said to them: ‘What news from Brussels?’ ‘A great miracle has just taken place there,’ they replied. ‘And pray what may it be?’ ‘There was a Spaniard who had lain in prison for fifteen months, and had never been able to obtain either his release or his trial. But the host which we worship has procured him a miraculous deliverance. The other evening, just at nightfall, the air suddenly shone around him with great brightness. The three gates of the prison opened miraculously before him, and he passed forth from the prison and from the town, still lighted by that splendor.’ ‘See, my dear master,’ said Enzinas afterwards to Melanchthon, ‘the foolishness of the popular fancy, which in so short a time dressed up in falsehood a certain amount of truth. It is quite true that three gates were found open, else I should not have got out. But as to the brightness, the[92] light of which they speak, I saw no other than that of the lanterns of passengers in the street.[158] I attribute my deliverance not to the wonderful sacrament which these idolaters worship, but solely to the great mercy of God, who deigned to hear the prayers of his church.’

Along with this popular rumor another was current in Brussels, but in higher circles. The emperor was at this time at Brussels, which town he did not leave till April 30, 1545. Don Francis de Enzinas was not an ordinary prisoner; not a working-man, a cutler, like Giles Tielmans. An eminent family, a good education, learned attainments, talents, the title of Spaniard, and of a Spaniard highly spoken of in high places, these were things greatly esteemed by many at court. Charles the Fifth himself was far from being unconscious of their importance. He had promised his protection to Enzinas if there were nothing bad in his book, and many persons assured him that there was, on the contrary, nothing but good in it. How, then, could he put to death a scholar for having translated into good Spanish the inspired book of the Christians? According to public rumor the judges had said: ‘We can not honorably extricate ourselves from this cause; the best plan is to set the man free secretly.’ It was added that when the jailer had announced the flight of Enzinas to the president, the latter had replied: ‘Let him go, and do not trouble about it; only do not let it be spoken of.’ If this version were the true one, it would explain the circumstance of Zoëte’s not appearing to recognize Enzinas. But Enzinas himself did not credit it, and it is probable that it had no better foundation than the first story.

Francis remained a month at Antwerp. On his release from prison he had sent the news to his friends, and had received their congratulations. Among these friends were two of the most illustrious of the reformers, Calvin and[93] Melanchthon, between whom, whatever may be thought of it, there were many points of resemblance. Calvin was the man, said Enzinas, whom he had always most warmly loved.[159] He had written a short letter to him, somewhat unpolished in style.[160] Calvin replied to his friend immediately in a letter which breathed the most affectionate feeling, and which Francis thought very remarkable. It praised his labors and his Christian conduct. ‘Oh,’ said Enzinas, ‘in how kindly a manner he can speak of things which in themselves are not deserving of praise!'[161] This singular kindliness of Calvin, which then struck all his friends, has since been much called in question. Enzinas replied to him (August 3): ‘Our friendship,’ said he, ‘is now sealed; between us there is a sacred and perpetual alliance, which can only be broken by the death of one of us. What do I say? I have this sweet hope, that when bodily ties shall be broken, we shall enjoy this friendship in a future life with more exquisite delight than we can in this mortal flesh. Not till then shall we live a life truly blessed, and one which shall endure forever in the presence of God and in the society of the holy angels. Nevertheless, while we are still in this exile, and while we labor earnestly and unremittingly in our calling, each according to the ability which he has received from the Lord, let us cultivate our friendship by fulfilling all its obligations. My dear Calvin, I have a most grateful sense of the affection which you profess for me, and I will spare no pains to make myself worthy of it. You will find in me a sincere friend…. With respect to the pamphlet which you have addressed to the States of the Empire, Luther has read it and praises it very heartily. Melanchthon very highly approves it. Cruciger is wonderfully fond of you, and[94] can not sufficiently commend any production of yours. As to the censures of others you need not trouble yourself about them.'[162]

Enzinas not only wrote to Melanchthon, but also went to him. He arrived at Wittenberg in March, rather more than two years after leaving the town. He related in detail to his master what had befallen him, and what he had seen during these two years; and Melanchthon, struck with his narrative, begged him to write and publish it. ‘An account of the cruelties practised towards Christian people in the Netherlands,’ he said, ‘which you have seen with your own eyes, and which you have in part experienced, for your life was in danger, might if published be of great service for the future.'[163] Enzinas at first hesitated. ‘At the very time,’ said he, ‘when I was driven about by the fury of the tempest, I endured patiently my personal sufferings, considering them by far inferior to the perils of my brethren. How then can I, in this hour when, thanks be to God, I am in port, set myself to recount my own history, in seeming forgetfulness of the wounds of the church?’ As Melanchthon pressed the point, Francis declared that he would yield in obedience to his command. The friend of Luther, thus satisfied, wrote to Camerarius (April 16, 1545): ‘Our Spaniard, Francis, has returned, miraculously delivered, without any human aid, at least so far as he knows. I have begged him to write an account of these things, and I will send it to thee.’ The interest which Melanchthon took in these facts perhaps justifies the place which we have assigned them in the history of the Reformation.

Other sorrows were to overtake the Spaniards who were scattered about far from their native land. James[95] Enzinas, the eldest brother of Francis, had hardly got his Spanish catechism printed at Antwerp before he received his father’s orders to go to Rome. The ambitious father was desirous of honors and fortune for his eldest son. He was aware of James’s talents, but he was unaware of his attachment to the evangelical faith, and had no doubt that if he were at Rome he would make his way to the higher dignities of the church. It was glory of another kind which James was to find there. He was bitterly grieved; he would have greatly preferred to go to Wittenberg. But his conscience was so tender, his character so simple and straightforward, his obedience to his father so absolute, that he felt bound in duty to set out for the metropolis of the papacy. There he spent two or three years, taking no pleasure in it, sorrowing over all that he witnessed, and not by any means ingratiating himself with the hierarchy. His abilities, his attainments, his character were esteemed; but he was far from gaining any thing thereby. On the contrary, melancholy, dissatisfaction, and even disgust, took possession of him at every thing around him. He saw things not only contrary to Christian truth, but contrary to uprightness and to virtue. He felt that he was in a wrong position, and entreated his father to allow him to leave Italy, but in vain. The old man, considering the path which two of his sons were pursuing in Germany, probably believed that he should at least save the eldest by keeping him at Rome. The frank disposition of James did not allow him entirely to hide his convictions, especially from his fellow-countrymen. Francis also, who knew him well, was very much alarmed about him. He had no doubt that his brother, if he remained at Rome, would be ruined. He therefore implored him to cross the Alps. James did not indulge in any delusions. He knew that, instead of the honors of which his father was dreaming, he could hope for nothing in the city of the pope but disgrace and death. He deter[96]mined, therefore, to yield to the entreaties of his brother, and made ready to depart.

He might, doubtless, have quitted Rome by stratagem, and have secretly escaped. But he was too candid entirely to conceal his purpose. One of his countrymen was informed of it and hastened to denounce him to the Inquisition as a heretic. James was then arrested and thrown into strict confinement. His arrest made a great noise. A Spaniard accused of Lutheranism! A man of learning and of an ancient family opposed to the Church! An enemy of the pope living close by the pope! What strange things! The Inquisition, therefore, determined to make of this trial an imposing affair. There was ‘a great assembly of the Romans’ to attend at his examination. James appeared in the presence not only of the inquisitors, but also of the cardinals, bishops, and all Spaniards of eminence then at Rome, and of several members of the Roman clergy. If the popes had been unable, notwithstanding their efforts, to keep Luther in their hands, they had now at least one of his disciples in their power. James Enzinas, in the presence of this imposing assembly, perceived that God gave him suddenly, and at Rome itself, an opportunity of glorifying him and of doing, once for all, the work to which he had desired to consecrate his whole life. He took courage. He understood perfectly well that the ‘lion’s mouth’ was opening before him, the gulf of death. But neither the solemnity of the hour, nor the brilliancy of the court, nor the thought that he was about to be swept away by a fatal stroke, nor all that was dear to him on earth, could make him swerve from the straight path. ‘He maintained with great constancy,’ says the chronicler, ‘and with holy boldness the true doctrine of the Gospel.’ He did more. Standing thus in the presence of the princes of the Roman church, and of all their pomp, he thought that fidelity required him to expose their errors. ‘He forthwith condemned,’ says the narrator, ‘the im[97]pieties and diabolical impositions of the great Roman antichrist.’ At these words a thrill ran through the assembly. The whole court was in commotion. The prelates, annoyed at what they heard, were agitated as if under the influence of some acute nervous irritation. They cried out in astonishment and anger. The Spaniards especially could not contain themselves. ‘All at once, not only the cardinals, but those of his own country who were present, began to cry aloud that he ought to be burnt.'[164]

After a little reflection, however, the court was of a different opinion. If the Spaniard should publicly condemn in Rome his so-called errors, the glory of the papacy, it was thought, would be all the greater. The speaker was surrounded and was told that if he would appear in the public square and retract his heresies, the Church would once more receive him as one of her children. His fellow-countrymen pressed around him and depicted the honors to which he might then attain. But on such a condition he would not redeem his life. He would rather glorify Christ and die. The wrath of his enemies burst forth afresh. ‘These fierce ministers of all impiety and cruelty,’ says the chronicler, ‘became more violent than before.’ James then ascended the pile, asserting with immovable courage that all his hope was in Christ. ‘Unawed by the pompous display which surrounded him, and by the ostentatious devotion of his countrymen, with his heart ever fixed on God, he passed on boldly and firmly into the midst of the flames, confessing the name and the truth of the Son of God to his latest breath. Thus did this good servant of God end his life by a glorious martyrdom, in the midst of all impiety, and, wonderful to tell, in the very city of Rome.'[165]

At the news of his death his brothers and his friends were filled with sorrow. Francis at first felt only the[98] blow which had fallen on his tenderest affections. At the very time when he was in daily expectation of embracing his brother he learnt that all that was left of him was a handful of ashes which were cast into the Tiber. This cruel death, taking place just when Charles the Fifth was endeavoring to crush Protestantism, and the black clouds which were gathering in all directions, filled him with the most melancholy thoughts. ‘God is surely preparing some great dispensation of which we know nothing,’ he said. All around he saw only disorder and confusion. In this hour of dejection he received a sympathetic and consoling letter from Calvin.[166] The reformer directed his friend’s thoughts to the blessed life which is after death, and in which it is the privilege of the faithful to dwell with Christ. ‘I am not ignorant,’ replied Enzinas, ‘how true are the things which you write to me. But we are men, and the infirmities of the flesh beset us. We can not, nay, we ought not, to cast off all sense of sorrow. But in the midst of this distress I rejoice that there was given to this brave Christian so much constancy in the profession of the truth, and I am persuaded that for some wise purpose my brother has been removed to that eternal assembly of the blessed, in which the loftiest spirits now greet him with this song of triumph: These are they who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.’ Francis in his grief did not forget his native land. ‘God grant,’ said he, ‘that the tidings of this divine fire,[167] wherewith[99] my brother’s soul glowed, may be diffused in every part of Spain, to the end that the noblest minds, stimulated by his example, may at length repent of the impiety in which at present they are living.’ This letter from Enzinas to Calvin was written from Basel, April 14, 1547.



History, both sacred and profane, opens, so to speak, with the enmities of brothers. Cain and Abel, Atreus and Thyestes, Eteocles and Polynices, Romulus and Remus, inaugurate with their murderous hatred the origin of human society or the beginning of empires. This remark of an eminent thinker, M. Saint-Marc Girardin, may be carried farther. In the first days of Christianity, Jesus, when announcing to his disciples the tribulations which awaited them, said: The brother will deliver up the brother to death. Similar unnatural conduct is likewise to be met with at the second great epoch of Christianity, that of the Reformation. Strange! that a doctrine so worthy to be loved should be enough to arouse hatred against those who profess it, and even hatred of so monstrous a kind as to show itself in fratricide.

Brotherly love is one of the most beautiful features of human nature. A brother is a friend, but a friend created with ourselves. Brothers have the same father, the same mother, the same ancestors, the same youth, the same family, and many things besides in common. A brother is not merely a friend whom we meet and cling to, although that is no small blessing; he is a friend given by God, a second self. But just in proportion to[100] the sacredness of the bond of brotherhood is the depth of the evil when it is disregarded. The nearer brother stands to brother, the deeper is the wound inflicted when they clash. The noblest feelings of our nature are then trampled under foot, and nothing is left but the most egotistic, the most savage instincts. The man disappears, and the tiger takes his place. While the history of the Reformation brings before us examples of the tenderest brotherly affection, as, for example, in the case of the Enzinas, it presents us also with some of those tragic catastrophes which must draw from us a cry of horror.

Among the Spaniards who were studying at Paris about 1540 there was, besides James Enzinas, a young man from Cuença, named Juan Diaz. After making a good beginning in Spain, he had gone in 1532 to complete his studies at Paris, at the Sorbonne, at the Collège Royal, instituted by Francis I. There, by his progress in learning, he had soon attained a distinguished position among the students. At first he applied himself, like a genuine Spaniard, to scholastic theology. He became intimate with one of his fellow-countrymen, Peter Malvenda, a man older than himself, and a doctor of the Sorbonne, who was subsequently much employed by Granvella and by Charles the Fifth. Malvenda was a man rich in resources, but also full of prejudices, superstitions, and the pride which is the usual characteristic of the Roman doctors. Diaz, on the contrary was characterized by great meekness, benevolence, candor and simplicity, integrity, plain-dealing, prudence and purity of life. Having a deep sense of the value of the sacred writings, he was anxious to read them in the original, and therefore studied Hebrew and Greek with unflagging earnestness. The reading of the sacred books opened before him a new world. The conflict between two doctrines which was agitating Christendom began within himself. What ought he to believe? Diligent in prayer, says one of his biographers, he very fervently prayed God[101] to give him the pure knowledge of his holy will.[168] He became intimate with his fellow-countryman, James Enzinas, and they read the Scriptures together, James giving an explanation of them. The eyes of Diaz were opened, and the same Spirit which had inspired the sacred writers made known to him the Saviour whom they proclaimed. He clung to him by faith and henceforth sought for righteousness in him alone. He gave up the scholastic theology, embraced the Gospel, and became the associate of men who shared his own convictions. Among these were Claude de Senarclens, Matthew Budé, son of the illustrious William Budé, and John Crespin, son of a jurisconsult of Arras, advocate to the parliament of Paris. Impressed with the beauty of evangelical doctrine, Diaz was convinced that he must not hide it. He burned ‘to exhibit it before the world,’ he said. He felt at the same time the need of gaining more knowledge and more power, and of being strengthened in the faith by experienced teachers. He therefore left Paris and betook himself to Geneva with Matthew Budé and Crespin, ‘for the purpose of seeing the state of the church in that town and the admirable order which was established there.’ Diaz stayed in the house of the minister Nicholas des Gallars. This visit took place in 1545.[169]

After having conversed with the great reformer, set forth his faith, and received his approval of his doctrine as good and holy, Diaz felt it desirable to visit the evangelical churches of Germany. His stay extended to about three months, and he then went first to Basel, afterwards to Strasburg. Bucer and his friends were delighted with the young Spaniard, with his acquirements, his talents, his agreeable manners, and especially with his piety. Admitted to familiar intercourse with them, he entered more and more fully into the knowl[102]edge of evangelical doctrines and affairs. He enjoyed the conversation of these Christian people and the free and hearty manners which prevailed among them. He had no thought of quitting Strasburg; but a circumstance which occurred about six months afterwards led to his removal.

As the Protestants declined to recognize the Council of Trent, which had been opened in December, 1545, the Elector Palatine had proposed a colloquy between the two parties, and this conference opened at Ratisbon, January 27, 1546. Bucer had been nominated one of the delegates on the part of the Reformation; and the Senate of Strasburg, judging that a Spanish convert from Catholicism to Protestantism, a man rich in knowledge and in virtue, would carry much weight in the discussion, associated Diaz with his friend. At Ratisbon, Bucer and Diaz found as champions of the papacy, Malvenda, whom Diaz had known at Paris, Cochlaeus,[170] and the Carmelite monk Billik. These three were determined to maintain the extremest doctrines of the papacy; for seeing that the council was assembled they feared that if they made any concession they would be struck with the same anathemas as the Protestants. Without hesitation Diaz went to see Malvenda. Malvenda was his senior, and he ought to pay his respects to him. Perhaps he hoped that the ties which had formerly united them would give him some hold on the mind of his countryman. Presenting himself, therefore, with one of his friends, he told him with the utmost simplicity that he was come to Ratisbon with Bucer for the purpose of defending the doctrines of the Reformation. Malvenda could believe neither his own eyes nor ears. He remained for a short time astounded, as if some monster had made its appearance.[171] The expression of his countenance and the rest[103]lessness of his movements displayed his astonishment and alarm. At length he said: ‘What! Juan Diaz at Ratisbon! Juan Diaz in Germany, and in the company of Protestants!… No, I am deceived; it is a phantom before me, resembling Diaz indeed in stature and in feature, but it is a mere empty image!’ The young Spaniard assured the doctor that he really was there present before him. ‘Wretched man,’ said Malvenda, ‘do you not know that the Protestants will pride themselves far more on having gained over to their doctrine one single Spaniard than if they had converted ten thousand Germans or an in infinite number of men of other nations?’ Diaz wondered at these words, for it seemed to him that the sovereign will could convert a Spaniard as easily as a German. Malvenda, then, no longer in doubt as to the real presence of Diaz in flesh and blood before him, assailed him with questions blow after blow. ‘Hast thou been long in Germany? What ails thee that thou hast come into these parts? Dost thou understand the doctrine of Martin Bucer and the other Germans?’ and so forth. Diaz, with more presence of mind than his master, replied quietly and modestly: ‘I have been almost six months in this country. My object in coming was to see here religion established in its purity, and to confer with the learned men who are to be found here. The true knowledge of God is before every thing; and in a matter so important I would rather trust my own eyes than the false reports of evil men. I had a wish to see this poison; and as I find that the churches of Germany are in agreement with antiquity, and have in their favor the perpetual consent of the apostles and prophets, I can not reject their doctrine.'[172]

This admiration for Germany very much astonished Malvenda. ‘Oh!’ cried he, ‘it is an exceedingly wretched lot to live in this country. For any man who loves the unity of Rome, six weeks’ sojourn here is a burden as[104] oppressive as six years; nay, say rather six centuries. Six days in Germany make me older than a long lifetime. Every honest man must beware of what is taught here. Much more must thou, Diaz, beware, who belongest to a land in which the religion of our holy mother the Church has always flourished. Respect, therefore, thine own reputation, and do not bring dishonor on thyself, nor on thy family, nor on the whole Spanish nation.’ As Diaz was accompanied by one of his friends, Malvenda, embarrassed, did not pursue the subject farther. But they agreed to meet again.

Malvenda prepared to make use of his fine rhetorical powers in striking the heaviest blows for the purpose of bringing back into the Roman fold this sheep which as he thought had gone astray. When Diaz made his appearance again, this time alone, Malvenda said: ‘Dost thou not perceive all the dangers which are threatening at once thy body and thy soul? Dost thou not see the formidable thunderbolts of the pope, the vicar of the Son of God, which are about to fall upon thee? And dost thou not know with what a horrible execration those are smitten whom he excommunicates, so that they become the plague of the human race? Is it well, then, to venture, for the sake of the opinion of a small number of people, to stir up sedition in all countries and to disturb the public peace? Dost thou not dread the judgment of God, and the abhorrence of all thy fellow-countrymen?’ Assuming, then, the most kindly air, he continued: ‘I promise to aid thee, to befriend thee in this matter to the utmost of my power. But do not wait until the emperor arrives at Ratisbon; go to meet him, cast thyself at the feet of his confessor, and entreat him to pardon thine offence.’

‘I am not afraid,’ replied Diaz, modestly but decisively, ‘of exposing myself to danger for the purpose of maintaining the heavenly doctrine on which our salvation depends, or even of shedding my blood to bear testimony[105] to the religion of Christ. To me this would be a great honor and a great glory.’

Malvenda shuddered at these words. If what Diaz said was true, what Rome said was false; and yet his fellow-countryman was ready to die to testify the truth of his belief. ‘No,’ exclaimed the priest, ‘the pope, vicar of Christ, can not err.’ ‘What!’ resumed Diaz, ‘the popes infallible! Monsters defiled within and without with enormous crimes infallible!’ Malvenda acknowledged that some of the popes had led impure lives; but, as he was anxious to drop this subject, he declared to Diaz that it was mere loss of time to come to the colloquy, and that no good would arise from it. He added that if Diaz wished to do any good, he ought to go to the Council of Trent, which was established by the pope and attended by many prelates. Diaz quitted the doctor, resolved to see him no more privately.[173]

The young Spaniard had now ruined himself with the doctor. The affection which Malvenda had felt for him gave place to implacable hatred, and as he had not succeeded in gaining him over, his only thought now was to ruin him. With this view he applied to the confessor of Charles the Fifth, of whose influence he was aware. ‘There is now at Ratisbon,’ he wrote, ‘a young Spaniard whom I once knew at Paris as an obedient son of Rome, but who now avows himself an enemy of the church and a friend of the Lutherans. If such things are permitted, Spain is lost, and you will see her claiming to shake off her shoulders the burdens with which she will profess to be overwhelmed. I implore you to avert such a calamity, even if necessary by a violent remedy.’ Malvenda was not content with writing one letter. As the confessor gave no answer, he wrote other letters, ‘far more harsh and violent than the first.’


De Soto had not answered at once because he was perplexed. He was quite capable of feeling the worth of such a man as Juan Diaz; and, whatever the chroniclers may have said, he had previously been struck with the excellencies of Enzinas, and had winked at his escape. Moreover, the case was one of real difficulty. Diaz, being one of a deputation sent to a colloquy approved by the emperor, was protected against violent measures, except at the cost of a renewal of the breach of faith of which John Huss had been the victim. Just at the time when the confessor received from Malvenda his last violent letter, he had with him another Spaniard, named Marquina, who was entrusted with a mission for Rome, respecting which he was conversing with the confessor. ‘See,’ said De Soto, ‘what trouble our Spaniards give us,’ and he read to him Malvenda’s letter. Marquina, who was an old friend of Juan Diaz, had always looked upon him as a model of honesty and piety. He therefore said to De Soto: ‘Put no faith in Malvenda’s statements. He is no doubt impelled by some private ill-will. Believe, rather, the public testimonies of good men, who have at all times approved the character and the doctrine of Diaz.’ But De Soto was not convinced. ‘We must,’ he said, ‘either convert him, or get him put out of the way.’ Did he mean that he was to be imprisoned or put to death? The latter seems the most probable conclusion. Nevertheless De Soto was not so black as Protestant writers depict him. In 1560 he was prosecuted by the Inquisition of Valladolid, on suspicion of Lutheranism.[174] His intercourse with such men as Enzinas and Diaz might well tend to make him afterwards more just towards a doctrine which he had at first condemned. Marquina set out for Rome.

In this metropolis was a brother of Juan Diaz, named Alonzo, an advocate practising before the Roman tribunals. Marquina related to him all that he had heard[107] about Juan. Alonzo loved his brother, but he loved Rome still more. At this news, therefore, he was plunged into a deep melancholy. Juan a heretic! What a misfortune for him, but what an offence also against the Church! Alonzo, though not a thorough bigot, was violent, and was smitten with that gloomy and cruel madness which fancies that it is defending the church of God when persecuting those who hold contrary doctrines. He was not without affection for those of his own kin; but he was pitiless towards them if ever they attacked the faith. He would rather they should all perish than be guilty of an outrage against the Church. He was not only superstitious but fanatical; and fanaticism is to superstition what delirium is to fever. As soon as he was informed of the letters which Malvenda had written to the confessor, Alonzo determined to go to Germany and to make use of all available means to bring back his brother to the faith or to retrieve the injury done by him to the Church. He selected as his servant a man of evil repute, took post and went with the utmost speed to Augsburg, and thence to Ratisbon, where he expected to find his brother. This journey was made in March, 1546. The conference was just on the point of closing without having accomplished any thing, and Juan Diaz had already left Ratisbon.

Alonzo was greatly annoyed at this news, and resolved to have an interview without delay with Malvenda. The latter had no hesitation as to what was to be done. ‘May I live to see the day,’ said he, ‘on which Juan Diaz will be burnt … and his soul thus be saved.’ ‘A brutal speech,’ says Crespin, the friend of Juan, ‘altogether diabolical and worthy of eternal wrath.’ But in those times of error, when people fancied that false doctrine ought to be punished like any ordinary crime, it is possible that this priest, in uttering the wish that the soul should be saved at the cost of the body, might imagine that it was really a pious and charitable speech. The human under[108]standing was then, and had been for ages, profoundly and miserably mistaken on this matter.

Malvenda and Alonzo discussed together what was to be done. First of all, they said, inquiry must be made most carefully in what place, country, town, or village, Juan then was. Malvenda summoned a Spaniard of his house in whom he had full confidence, and bade him find out where it was conjectured that Juan was concealed. This Spaniard, who was a crafty man, invented a tale which he thought would ensure his success, and presented himself to one of the friends of Juan—whether Senarclens or another we do not know. ‘Letters of great importance,’ he said, ‘addressed to Diaz have arrived at the imperial court. If he receive them, it will be of great advantage to him. We beg you, therefore, to tell us instantly in what place we may deliver them.’ The friend of Diaz, who knew with whom he had to do, replied: ‘We do not know where he is; but if you have any papers to forward to him, please hand them over to us and we will take care that they reach him safely.’

Alonzo and Malvenda, greatly disappointed at receiving such an answer, devised a new trick, the success of which appeared to them infallible. The Spaniard returned to the friend of Diaz and said: ‘It is not a question about papers only; there is now at the Crown hotel a gentleman, a great friend of Diaz, who brings him news and letters of the highest importance. He is bound to deliver them to him in person. Pray come and speak to him at the inn.'[175]

Alonzo’s stratagem succeeded to his heart’s content. He discovered ere long his brother’s place of retirement. Juan, on the approach of Charles the Fifth,[176] felt that he[109] could not remain at Ratisbon, and therefore had betaken himself to Neuburg, where he ran less risk than at Ratisbon, as the town was within the jurisdiction of Otto Henry, the elector palatine. He was engaged there in superintending the printing of a work by Bucer.[177] It was a great surprise to him to see his brother, whose attachment to the papacy he well knew. The first days of their meeting were spent in painful debates. Alonzo put forth all his energy to snatch his brother from heresy. He made the best of all the arguments which he thought likely to prevail with him. He reminded him of the disgrace which would be reflected on the name of his family, the perils to which he exposed himself, prison, exile, the scaffold, and the stake with which he was threatened. Juan remained inflexible. ‘I am ready,’ he replied, ‘to suffer any thing for the sake of publicly confessing the doctrine which I have embraced.’ Failing to terrify his brother, Alonzo attempted to seduce him. He offered him the wealth and honors wherewith Rome would willingly have paid for reconciliation with her adversaries. ‘Follow me to Rome,’ he said, ‘and all these things are yours.’ Juan was still less open to the solicitations of worldly ambition than he had been to threats of possible danger.

Alonzo soon perceived that these methods would avail him nothing, and he therefore changed his tactics. He pretended that he was himself overcome by the faith and the generous feeling of his brother, and professed himself gained over to the Gospel. ‘Come with me to Italy,’ said he; ‘there you will find a large number of souls open to the knowledge of the truth, and among these you will have opportunity of doing a great work of mercy. Germany possesses pious men in abundance to instruct it. Italy is in want of them. Come with me.’ Juan was almost carried away by this appeal. He was desirous, however, of consulting his friends. These dissuaded[110] him from such an enterprise, and felt suspicious of his brother’s sincerity. Diaz still hesitated. He wrote to Bernard Ochino, pastor at Augsburg: ‘I must close my eyes to the world that I may follow only the call of Christ. May he be my light, my guide, my support! I have not yet come to a decision. Whether I am to set out or to remain here, I desire only to do the will of God. My trust is in Christ, who promises me a happy issue.’ His friends Bucer, Senarclens, and others hastened to him in alarm, and at length succeeded in dissuading him from quitting the asylum in which he was safe under the protection of the elector palatine.

Alonzo, though deeply annoyed, dissembled his anger. He should cherish, he said, the memory of the pleasant moments which he had spent in his brother’s company; he carried away in himself a light which he would not allow to be extinguished; he commended himself to the prayers of this brother who had become his father in Jesus Christ. He wept much, and on March 26, 1546, he took his departure, his servant accompanying him. The latter was a man accustomed to the shedding of blood. He had been an executioner; and he made a trade of selling his services to any one who wanted to get rid of an enemy by the sword or by poison. The two men went to Augsburg, carefully concealing their presence. The next day, after changing their dress, they retraced the road by which they had come. On the way Alonzo bought a hatchet of a carpenter. He slept in a village not far from Neuburg; and on March 27, just as the day began to dawn, he re-entered the town with the man who was in his service. This man knocked at the door of the house in which Diaz lodged, and showing some letters which he said that he brought from his brother, requested to be admitted. Notwithstanding the early morning hour he was allowed to enter the house, and went up the stair-case while Alonzo waited below, prepared to assist in case of need.


Juan, waking with a start, rose and went out of his chamber, half-dressed, and received with kindliness his brother’s messenger. The latter handed a letter to him. The still faint light of the dawn scarcely penetrated into the room; Juan went to the window and began reading. Alonzo expressed to his brother the fears he felt for his personal safety. ‘Above all,’ said he, ‘do not trust Malvenda, who only thirsts for the blood of the saints. From afar I watch over you, and in giving you this warning I discharge a duty of brotherly piety.'[178] While Diaz was reading, the murderer approached him, and, armed with the hatchet which he had concealed under his cloak, plunged it up to the handle in the skull of the unfortunate man, over the right temple. So violent was the blow that the victim fell without uttering a word. The assassin caught him in his arms and laid him quietly upon the floor, and then fled without making any noise which might have betrayed the horrible deed which had just been done.

The friend of Diaz, Senarclens, who was sleeping in his own chamber, heard nothing but the footsteps of the murderer as he descended the stairs. He rose hastily, ran to his friend, and found him dying. The hatchet had been left buried in the wound. Juan Diaz lived an hour longer but did not speak again. His hands were joined, his lips moved as if in prayer, and his eyes fixed on heaven showed the mark toward which he pressed.

Meanwhile the assassins were flying as fast as their horses could carry them. Swiftly pursued, they passed through Augsburg without stopping, and at length found refuge at Innspruch, in the dominions of the archduke Ferdinand, king of the Romans. All Germany was stirred by this odious crime; and the punishment of the guilty was demanded from all quarters. But by the intervention of the emperor they escaped the condemna[112]tion which they had deserved, and, if we are to believe Castro,[179] Charles even raised the fratricide to the highest honors and dignities.



The doctrines of the Gospel were slowly spreading in Spain; their advance was silent, but it was none the less rapid. The Catholic Illescas, in his Historia Pontifical, asserts that ‘so great were the number, the rank, and the importance of the culprits, that if the application of the remedy had been delayed for two or three months, the whole of Spain would have been on fire.’ The Reformation would have wrought the salvation of this people, not only in a moral and religious sense, but also in respect to national prosperity and greatness. Unfortunately the papacy and Philip II. had the last word, and they ensured its ruin.

We have seen that the Gospel had been well received at Seville, in the south; it was likewise welcomed at Valladolid, in the north, the usual seat of the king. There was one man who at this epoch, by reason of his ability, the offices with which he was invested, the missions which were entrusted to him, and his religious character, played an important part in Spain. He passed for one of the most violent enemies of evangelical truth; and such indeed he was, but ultimately he became himself an evangelical, at least in essential points. This was Bartholomew Carranza, who was born in 1503, at Miranda, in Navarre, and was at this time teaching theology at Valladolid with great applause. He had completed his studies[113] at the university of Alcala, and in 1520 had entered the Dominican order. While he was at the college of St. Gregory of Valladolid, in 1527, he had undertaken the defence of Erasmus, and had consequently been denounced to the Holy Office. At a still earlier period he had conversed with a Dominican older than himself, Professor Michael de Saint Martin, on matters pertaining to the conscience. The doctor found that the young monk greatly limited the power of the pope. For this he had been rebuked and ultimately denounced to the Holy Office (November 19, 1530). But these two denunciations came to nothing. It was found that the evidence was not sufficient to support an accusation. On the revival of the denunciations at a later period, Carranza, who by this time had become an archbishop, was placed under arrest. At an early age he had felt some relish for the truth. Had he lived in the midst of Gospel light he would have joyfully received it; but the darkness of Rome withheld him and for a long time led him astray. In 1534 he was appointed professor of theology at Valladolid, and in 1539 he was named a delegate to Rome to attend a chapter of his order. He maintained there some theses with so much success that Pope Paul III. gave him permission to read prohibited books. The reading of these was afterwards of advantage to him. At this time he enjoyed the reputation of a fervent Catholic. His opposition to heretics, his olive-colored complexion, and the sombre costume of his order, earned him the surname of the black monk. Nevertheless he displayed altogether a superior mind; and in consequence of this he was early distinguished by Charles the Fifth. If he were then strongly attached to Roman doctrines it was with sincerity, because he believed them to be true; and he was, moreover, a stranger to petty ecclesiastical superstitions.[180]

Carranza’s teaching, perhaps, contributed to make the Gospel attractive to younger minds at Valladolid. At[114] first they showed some timidity; but the cruel death of one of the most earnest Spanish Christians inspired them, about the middle of the century, with more zeal and courage. Among the disciples of Carranza was Don Domingo de Roxas, son of the marquis of Poza—a name rendered illustrious by a great poet—and whose mother was a daughter of the count of Selinas. This young man, who was destined by his parents for the church, was amiable, upright, a lover of truth, keenly susceptible and impressible, endowed likewise with courage, but not with that immovable firmness which belongs to powerful characters. He listened with enthusiasm to the lectures of Carranza, who in certain cases made use of the phrases of the reformers, while condemning their doctrines. The same was afterwards done by the Council of Trent, to which Carranza was sent as delegate by Charles the Fifth. He used to say that man, since his fall, could not be justified by the power of nature; but that he is justified by Jesus Christ. To these assertions, however, he added explanations which weakened them. ‘The moral power of man,’ he said, ‘is indeed diminished but not destroyed; he is able to incline himself to righteousness, and faith justifies only so far as charity is added to it.’

Ere long Domingo showed less timidity than his master. He laid aside every thing that weakened the doctrine and embraced the pure faith drawn from the Word of God. At the same time that he listened to Carranza he was reading Luther and Melanchthon, and he thought their doctrines more evangelical and more powerful than those of his master. The professor trembled lest his disciple should become a heretic and should raise up others. What to Roxas appeared a friendly light, seemed to Carranza the signal of a conflagration. In vain he endeavored to prove to young de Roxas the mass and purgatory. The latter, understanding that the truth was the property of all, communicated it to those around him. He put into circulation the works of the reformers; he[115] composed others himself. Among the latter was an ‘Exposition of the Faith.’ By these means he gained over to the Gospel several inhabitants of Valladolid. He encountered opposition on the part of some members of his own family; but he found access to others, as well as to several noble houses of Castile.[181]

Another young Castilian, Augustine Cazalla, a contemporary of Roxas, at the age of seventeen had had Carranza as his confessor; and he attended, at the same time as Domingo, the lectures of this illustrious master at the college of St. Gregory at Valladolid. His father was director of the royal finances, and his mother Leonora (whose maiden name was de Vibero), a friend of the friends of the Gospel, opened her house to them, and freely welcomed the refugees who were driven by persecution from their own abodes. On this account the house of Leonora was afterwards razed, and on its ruins fanaticism erected a monumental stone, which remained there till our own days.[182] Cazalla completed his studies at Alcala, became canon of Salamanca, and attained a position in the first rank of Spanish preachers. The circumstances in which he was placed, and particularly the hospitality of his mother, prepared him to receive the Gospel. He was even accused of having ‘openly taught in the Lutheran conventicles of Valladolid.’ It appears, however, that he did not publicly declare himself for the Word of God until the emperor, having nominated him his preacher and almoner, took him with him into Germany, where he had frequent intercourse with the Lutherans.[183]

Even before Cazalla decided for the Gospel Don Domingo de Roxas had found a powerful assistant in the[116] evangelization of Valladolid and its neighborhood. An Italian noble, Don Carlos de Seso, born at Verona, of one of the first families of the country, had distinguished himself in the service of the emperor, and had, it seems, learnt something at an early age of the doctrine of the Reformation. He settled in Spain, and during his residence at Valladolid became intimate with the evangelical Christians of that city. He had a cultivated mind, great nobility of character, gentlemanly manners, and much zeal for the truth. Having become a Spaniard, he discharged in his adopted country certain civil functions; and this afforded him opportunities of diffusing with more freedom the knowledge of the Gospel. He did this zealously in some towns situated to the east of Valladolid, on the banks of the Douro; at Toro, where this river is spanned by the numerous arches of an immense bridge, and where Seso was corregidor; and, somewhat further eastward, in the melancholy and sombre Zamora, which the Cid had reconquered from the Moors, and where the ruins of his palace were to be seen. His active exertions were next put forth in another quarter. We find him proclaiming the love of God in Jesus Christ at Valencia, to the north of Valladolid, and under the very walls of its beautiful cathedral. He afterwards married Doña Isabella de Castilla, niece of the bishop of Calahorra, and a descendant of King Pedro the Cruel, and took up his abode at Villa Mediana. Here he became very successful in the evangelization of Logroño, and the rich and fertile districts lying around, which are watered by the Ebro. Don Carlos de Seso was remarkable for the energy of his faith, the vigor of his language, and the devotion of his whole being to Jesus Christ. He was to give evidence of his courage at the time of his death, by apostrophizing the cruel Philip II. himself, whose fanatical answer became celebrated.[184]


Don Domingo de Roxas had a sister, the marchioness of Alcagnices, whose character bore much resemblance to his own, and who, like him, attached herself to Carranza, but with still more enthusiasm. She found in him a faithful, pious, and disinterested guide; not a director, but a Christian friend. She as well as her brother had frequent conversations with Carranza. Domingo on one occasion was speaking with joy about the complete justification of the sinner by the grace of Christ. ‘But,’ he added, ‘I do not see how this truth is to be reconciled with purgatory.’ ‘It would be no great harm,’ said Carranza, ‘if there were no purgatory.’ Domingo was astonished, and replied by citing the decisions of the church. His master then closed the discussion by saying: ‘You are not at present capable of thoroughly understanding this matter.’ In a little while, Domingo, convinced that the justification of man is the essence of Christianity, returned to the subject; and Carranza told him that he did not see in Holy Scripture any clear proofs of the existence of purgatory.[185] De Roxas rejoiced to hear this, for he desired above all things that his master should unreservedly accept the doctrines of the Gospel. But this was not so easy as he thought, and whenever he made a timid attempt to induce him to adopt them, Carranza at once checked him. ‘Beware,’ said he, ‘lest you allow yourself to be carried away by your talents.’ The disciple then withdrew disheartened. Carranza’s refusal to follow him in all the evangelical doctrines ‘excited his deepest compassion,’ and also occasioned him the greatest grief. ‘For,’ he said, ‘if Don Bartholomew entirely received the true faith, he would induce my sister to adopt it, so completely does the marchioness yield to his opinion.’ Filled with confidence, Roxas added: ‘I am still in hope of seeing this change effected;’ and allured still further and further by his hopes he exclaimed: ‘If so great a[118] change as this be wrought in Carranza, the king and all Spain will embrace this religion.'[186]

The faith of Carranza seemed in fact to become brighter and more real, so that the fine castles in the air which the young and ardent De Roxas was building were not altogether unfounded. One day, not long afterwards, Carranza, when preaching at Valladolid in Passion week, was suddenly carried away by the liveliness of his faith and the warmth of his love for the Saviour; and speaking as if he saw heaven opened, as if he discerned not only the image of the Saviour, but the Saviour himself crucified, he spoke with enthusiasm of the unutterable blessedness of such contemplation for faithful souls, and extolled with all his power the justification of men by a living faith in the passion and the death of Jesus Christ. ‘Really,’ said the bishop Peter de Castro, who was present, ‘Carranza preached to-day as Philip Melanchthon might have done.’ The bishop informed the illustrious orator of his own way of thinking; the latter replied only by keeping profound silence.[187] Carranza afterwards preached a sermon of a similar kind before Philip II. in London, whither he had accompanied the king, and where he prosecuted the evangelical teachers of Oxford and other places, while sometimes preaching the same doctrines as they did. The fanaticism of Catholic unity and universality stifled in his soul the claims of Christian faith. The new man, formed within by divine grace, was in his case kept down by the natural man, whose instincts had been rendered more cruel by the influence of Rome and the Inquisition.

The marchioness of Alcagnices could not do without him. The piety of Carranza met her deepest wants, and his attachment to Rome was a ground of confidence to her that in adopting his faith she was not separating from the church. Anxious to enjoy his teaching even when he[119] was absent, she caused copies to be made of his Spanish works, and had translations made of those which were in Latin. In this task she employed the friar Francis de Tordesillas. This monk, who was a strictly orthodox man, was occasionally shocked, while making these translations and copies, by certain phrases which appeared to have a Lutheran tendency. He was very much grieved about it, and so much the more because it was not only for the marchioness that he did this work, but also for several other ladies, admirers of Carranza. What a calamity if he should become an agent of the Lutheran heresy! And yet there were so many fine things in those books, and Carranza was so illustrious a doctor! The monk of Tordesillas bethought himself of a means of preventing the evil. At the head of the manuscript he put a notice to the reader, in which he said,—’that in reading the works of Don Bartholomew, all the propositions which they contain must be understood in the Catholic sense, and particularly those which relate to justification, which it seems possible to interpret in an opposite sense; that in this way there would be no danger of falling into any error; that he had seen the author practice good works, fasts, almsgiving and prayers, so that he, the speaker, was sure that every thing which the doctor had written was in the spirit of the Catholic religion.'[188] But the religious devotee labored in vain. Most readers took simply and in the natural sense what they read. Moreover the notice to the reader was counteracted by more powerful advice. Domingo de Roxas told both the nuns with whom he was connected, particularly those of the convent of Bethlehem, and other persons who showed any leaning to piety, that the evangelical doctrines, and he did not scruple to say to many the maxims of Luther, were approved by a man so virtuous and so learned as Carranza.[189]


Far from being moved to retract his doctrines by the reproaches which he incurred on account of them, Carranza, who was of a resolute and determined character, reasserted them in more and more positive language. One day when he was at the village of Alcagnices, probably on a visit to the castle, he felt it incumbent on him to make it distinctly understood that nothing would induce him to renounce the faith which inspired him, and that to leave no room for doubt he was even prepared to sign a legal instrument, bond, or contract, to that effect. For this reason, and remembering that according to a popular proverb ‘where notary has passed there is no going back,’ he exclaimed in the presence of Domingo de Roxas, Peter de Sotelo, Christopher Padilla, and others: ‘At the time of my death I will have a notary to attest the renunciation which I make of all my good works and all the merit of them. I rely on the works of Jesus Christ; and knowing that he has expiated my sins I look upon them as annulled.'[190]

It is remarkable that Carranza, after declarations so evangelical, should have been elected, and this in Spain, and against his own will, to the highest dignity of the church, the primacy. True, Rome afterwards made up for this gentle treatment by great severity. This illustrious doctor and distinguished prelate, who had caused so many evangelical Christians to be imprisoned, himself spent the last seventeen years of his life in prison. He exalted the pope, his government, and his ministry, as much as and more than any other man; but he committed the crime of exalting Jesus Christ still more. The punishment was only retarded, not averted, by his submission to Rome. Even at the time when Carranza was still in the enjoyment of the highest favor Valladolid saw a memorable example of punishment instantly awarded to any one who should magnify Jesus Christ, without caring for the pope and his church.


The young San Romano, who had been converted at Bremen, and had been arrested after making great efforts to induce Charles the Fifth to countenance the Reformation, arrived in ill health at Valladolid at the time when the Gospel was working in private circles, and even in general society, but had not yet been boldly preached there as at Seville. He had been roughly treated, and compelled to follow in the emperor’s suite as a captive, some say even into Africa; but the treatment which he had to undergo at the hands of the inquisitors of Valladolid, to whom he was delivered up, far surpassed in harshness that of Charles. They confined him in a dark and horrible dungeon; they sent to him incessantly wicked and ignorant monks, who were instructed to worry him and to induce him to abandon his faith; they frequently made a spectacle of him, exposing him to the laughter and contempt of the populace, and daily loaded him with reproaches and insults, in the hope of thereby terrifying him, breaking down his spirit, and leading him to retract his faith. But their attempt was frustrated. They found, on the contrary, that in some marvellous way which they could not understand, his strength, his earnestness, and his resolution day by day increased. He confuted the arguments of the monks, and courageously avowed the doctrines which were the objects of their anathemas. The sacrifice of the mass, said the monks, procures ex opere operato the remission of sins. ‘Horrible abomination,’ said San Romano. ‘Auricular confession,’ resumed the inquisitors, ‘the satisfaction of purgatory, the invocation of saints’…. But he stopped them and cried out: ‘Blasphemy against God and profanation of the blood of Jesus Christ!'[191] These monks, of orders gray, brown, or black, who buzzed about him like wasps, and were incessantly stinging him, were amazed at such language, and asked him what then[122] he did believe. He replied: ‘I maintain and will openly and clearly maintain to my latest breath that there is no creature who by his own strength, his own works, or any worthiness of his own can merit the pardon of his sins and obtain the salvation of his soul. The mercy of God alone, the work of the Mediator, who by his own blood has cleansed us from all sin, these save us.’ His condemnation was henceforth certain.

San Romano, and with him a great number of criminals, appeared before a multitude of the people to receive sentence. He was condemned to be burnt alive as a heretic, the others were absolved. ‘Ah!’ said one of his friends,

“Dat veniam corvis, vexat censura columbas.”

After sentence had been passed, they put upon the head of the martyr a paper crown, on which were depicted many horrible figures of demons,[192] and then led him away to the place of execution.

San Romano walked on, surrounded by the mob, who heaped on him insults ‘harder to bear than death.’ Just beyond the suburbs of the town he came to a wooden cross. The crowd stopped and the inquisitors wished to compel him to adore it. ‘It is not wood,’ he replied, ‘which Christians adore, but God. He is present in my heart and I adore him there with all reverence. Pass on; go straight to the place of my destination.’ At these words the people uttered loud cries, and loaded him with insults, considering his refusal to be a crime. ‘The cross,’ said some of them, ‘the cross would not allow a heretic to adore it.’ Then fancying that there was some divinity in the wood, the crowd pressed round it; some drew their swords, and clove the cross into a thousand pieces.[193][123] Most happy did any one think himself who could secure the smallest fragment, for the wood was to heal them of every disease.

San Romano was accompanied by a numerous escort. He was surrounded by archers of the Imperial Guard. Some great personages belonging to both parties had desired to be witnesses of the last moments of this man, whose convictions were so deep. Amongst them was the English envoy. San Romano was placed in the midst of a great heap of wood, which was forthwith set on fire in several places. When he began to feel the fire he raised his head,[194] looking up to heaven, which was about to receive him. But the inquisitors imagined that he was calling them and would yield to their entreaties. ‘Draw away the wood,’ they said, ‘he wants to retract his doctrine.’ The burning pieces were removed, and San Romano was set as it were at liberty, without having taken any harm from the fire. Turning then a look of indignation upon the inquisitors, he said: ‘What malice urges you to this? Why envy me my happiness? Why snatch me from the true glory which awaits me?'[195] The inquisitors then, confused and irritated, ordered him to be again cast into the fire, which had by this time risen to great violence, and instantly consumed him.

The sermon at this auto-da-fé had been preached by Carranza,[196] but it does not appear that he had convinced all his hearers. Some of the archers of the Imperial Guard carefully collected the ashes of the disciple of the Gospel. The English ambassador avowed that he recognized in him ‘a true martyr of Jesus Christ.'[197] In consequence of this saying he was obliged to absent himself[124] from court for several months. The archers who had gathered up the ashes were sent to prison. Meanwhile the inquisitors declared everywhere that San Romano was damned, that none was permitted to pray for him, and that whosoever should dare to hope for his salvation would be considered a heretic. This martyrdom took place about the year 1542.[198]

The times of the Reformation abound in martyrs; and we might well ask whether primitive Christianity, which came to an end when the reign of Constantine began, had so great a number of them as the renovated Christianity of the sixteenth century; especially if we take into account the different length of the periods. The impulse which led the martyrs of the Netherlands, of France, England, Hungary, Italy, Spain, and other lands to give up their lives calmly and even joyfully, proceeded from the depth of their convictions, the holy and sovereign voice of conscience, enlightened, purified, and strengthened by the word of God. In the souls of these lowly heroes there was a secret and mighty testimony to the truth of the Gospel which vividly manifested to them its grandeur, impelled them to sacrifice all for its sake, and gave them courage to obey, although it cost them not only goods and worldly greatness, but also the good opinion, the affection and esteem even of those whom they most tenderly loved. Obedience, indeed, was not always instantaneous. Sometimes there were hindrances, conflicts, hesitation, and delay. There were also some weak consciences which were overcome. But wherever the conscience was sound, it acquired in the midst of difficulties[125] more and more force, and when once its voice was heard the victory was won. It must be understood that we do not mean here a conscience which a man has made for himself; that of which we speak was the highest expression of truth, justice, and the divine will, and it was found to be the same in all regions. The souls of these martyrs were exempt from all prejudices, pure as a cloudless sky. They were conscientious men; and herein we have the complete explanation of the grand phenomenon presented to us in the Reformation. Here was a force sufficient to break through stubborn bonds, to surmount passionate opposition, to brave torture, and to go to the stake. No concessions were to be made, no agreement with error. The noble martyrs of the first centuries and of the sixteenth were the select spirits and the glory of the human race.

The death of San Romano was not fruitless. The saying current in the first centuries was once more verified,—the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church. His faith, his renunciation of the world, his courage at the stake, his rejoicing at the near approach of death, deeply affected such of the spectators as had a conscience not yet seared. The evangelicals of Valladolid, who had hardly avowed their convictions except to their most intimate friends, were emboldened. They expressed their sympathy with the martyr, and zeal and decision took the place of timidity and lukewarmness. No church, however, was formed in Valladolid till some years afterwards.



(BORN 1479; DIED 1555.)

Among the victims immolated in Spain, in the Netherlands, and elsewhere, by the fanaticism of Charles the Fifth and his subordinates, there was one, the most illustrious of all, whose history has been long hidden by a mysterious veil. This was his mother, Queen Joanna, the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella. The veil has been partly lifted in our days by the discovery of some documents in the archives of Simancas.[199] Although the information is not yet complete, and perhaps may never be so, it is nevertheless possible now to get some glimpses of the mysterious drama which darkened the life of this unfortunate princess. Few histories are more astonishing than the history of this woman, whom we see by some tragic destiny connected with three executioners—her father, her husband, and her son. These three men, King Ferdinand, the archduke Philip, and the emperor Charles the Fifth, whom she never ceased to love, and whom God had given her for protectors, deprived her of her kingdoms, cast her into prison, and had the strappado inflicted on her.[200] To complete their infamy, they circulated a report that she was mad. She displayed remarkable intelligence, and in this respect she would have taken high rank among princes, far above her father and her husband, if not above her son. The latter derived from her, certainly not from his father, his great abilities. Some celebrated physicians having been summoned by the Com[127]uneros to inquire whether the alleged madness existed, and having interrogated the officers and servants who were about her, Cardinal—afterwards Pope—Adrian, one of her jailers, gave the emperor an account of the inquiry in these words: ‘Almost all the officers and servants of the queen assert that she has been oppressed and forcibly detained in this castle for fourteen years, under pretence of madness, while in fact she has always been as sound in mind and as rational as at the time of her marriage.'[201]

The desire to possess themselves of the supreme power incited these three unworthy princes to deprive Joanna and to keep her in shameful captivity. It was to her and not to her father Ferdinand, that the kingdom of Castile belonged after the death of Isabella. It was to her, and not to her husband Philip, nor afterwards to her son Charles, that the Spains, Naples, Sicily, and other dominions belonged. She was deprived of all by these traitorous princes, and received in exchange a narrow prison.

Joanna, the daughter of Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile, was born in 1479, and was brought up in Spain under the care of her mother. Although it was not in those days the custom of the court, as it was in the time of Philip II., to attend the auto-da-fé, the whipping and the torture of heretics, these exploits of fanaticism done to the honor of Jesus Christ and his holy mother were nevertheless at this epoch the favorite subject of conversation at that devout court. The prison, the whip, the rack, and the stake, were the commonplaces of their intercourse. The compassionate heart, the sound understanding, and all the good instincts of the young girl rebelled against these excesses of the Roman faith; and it was soon discovered that there was in her mind an opposition to the favorite notions of her mother, and a deep feeling against these punishments. It was a[128] great grief to Isabella to see her own daughter wantonly ruining herself; for was it not in her eyes ruin to doubt of the holiness of the proceedings of the Inquisition? She, therefore, attempted to stifle the first germs of disobedience. She did not shrink from extreme measures to bring Joanna to a better mind. The marquis of Denia, chief jailer of the unhappy prisoner, wrote to Charles the Fifth, on January 26, 1522, as follows: ‘If your Majesty would employ torture against her, it would be in many respects rendering service to God and at the same time doing a good work towards the queen herself. This course is necessary with persons of her disposition; and the queen, your grandmother, punished and treated in this way her daughter the queen, our sovereign lady.’

When Joanna had attained the age of seventeen her father and mother began to think about a marriage alliance for her; and it is easy to understand that she was eager to accept the hand of the archduke of Burgundy, one of the handsomest knights of his age. The prince was to conduct her to the Netherlands, of which he had been sovereign since 1482, and thus he would withdraw her from the teaching of her mother. Joanna’s readiness was very natural under the circumstances.

Soon after her arrival in the Netherlands it was observed that feelings to which the cruelty of the Inquisition had given birth in her noble heart were developing themselves—indignation against the persecutors, and love for the persecuted. It is known that in these parts were to be found some of the Vaudois, the Lollards, and the Brethren of the Common Life, all alike inspired with a true religious spirit. The fresh information which Joanna now received strengthened her previous impressions of hostility to Roman superstition. The Catholic Isabella, alarmed at the reports which reached her, sent to Brussels the sub-prior of Santa Cruz, Thomas de Matienzo, to see what the facts were, and to arrest the evil. The princess, who tenderly loved her mother, was cast[129] down on hearing of her displeasure, and tears started to her eyes. But her resolution did not give way. The sub-prior took all possible pains to draw from Joanna some answer to the questions which Isabella had charged him to ask. He was very coldly received; and on Assumption Day, when two of the confessors of the princess presented themselves for the purpose of receiving her confession, she declined their services in the very presence of her mother’s envoy.[202] Her former tutor, Friar Andrew, who felt much anxiety for the soul of his pupil, entreated her to dismiss certain Parisian theologians, who seem to have been more enlightened than the majority of the priests, but whom Friar Andrew called drunkards. At the same time he begged the princess to supply their place by taking for her confessor a good Spanish monk. But all his entreaties were fruitless. Nothing could overcome the repugnance which she felt towards the Roman religion. On several occasions she refused its rites, but she did not advance nor take any active steps. Her strength was passive only.

On February 24, 1500, Joanna gave birth to a son, who was to become the emperor Charles the Fifth. Conspicuous amongst the magnificent presents offered to the young prince was the gift of the ecclesiastics of Flanders, who laid before him the New Testament, splendidly bound, and bearing the inscription in letters of gold—Search the Scriptures.

Isabella was deeply distressed to see her daughter thus drifting away from Spanish orthodoxy. It was not a complete rebellion; Joanna did not openly profess all the doctrines called in Spain heretical. But the queen had ordered hundreds of her subjects to be burnt for slighter opposition than that of the princess. Would Isabella’s devotion to the Virgin go so far as to sacrifice to it her daughter? Even had she desired it, it would not have been easy; for Joanna, as the wife of a foreign[130] prince, was emancipated from her mother’s control. Besides, it may well be believed that Isabella would not have committed such a crime. Still, the question arises, would she allow a heretic to ascend the throne of Castile? Would she expose the Inquisition, an institution so dear to her, to the risk of being suppressed by the princess who was to succeed her? Never. Her whole being revolted against such a thought. The priestly party rejoiced to see these scruples of the queen, and endeavored to increase them. King Ferdinand himself, Joanna’s father, but not a tender-hearted father, felt that it was for his own interest to embitter more and more the feeling of her mother.

As early as 1502 Isabella’s plan was formed. She would keep the heretic Joanna from the throne which belonged to her after her own death. On the meeting of the Cortes, at Toledo, in 1502, and at Madrid and Alcala de Henares, in 1503, the queen caused to be laid before them a project of law by virtue of which the government of Castile should belong after her death to Ferdinand, in case of Joanna’s absence, or of her unwillingness or inability personally to exercise the rights which belonged to her. This resolution was voted by the Cortes, and was inserted by Isabella in her will, in which she set forth the conditions which she had at first laid down. The pope confirmed the arrangement. Thus was Joanna to be set aside from succession to the throne which belonged to her on account of her opposition to the Inquisition and to other Roman practices. But Isabella took care not to state this, because she perceived that such an avowal would be dangerous. The priesthood and the holy office were almost universally detested, and, therefore, it was necessary to avoid asserting that they were the cause of the exclusion of Joanna, for this would have rallied to her cause the majority of the nation. Some pretext must, however, be found. It should be reported that she was mad. This is nothing but the[131] truth, thought the priests. Is it possible that any one not mad would reject Rome and her decrees, and put in their place some other senseless doctrines?

In 1504 Isabella died. Ferdinand publicly announced to the people, assembled in front of the palace of Medina del Campo, that although the crown belonged to his daughter he should continue to govern during his lifetime. Joanna and Philip, her husband, were still in the Netherlands. It appears that Joanna bore with meekness this robbery of the crown by her father; but it was otherwise with her husband. Philip energetically protested against this act of spoliation. ‘Ferdinand,’ he said, ‘has put into circulation a false report of the madness of his daughter and other absurdities of the like kind, solely with a view to furnish himself with a pretext for seizing her crown.'[203] It has generally been stated that it was Philip’s mother who had caused the madness of his widow. But this report, it is evident, was already in circulation at a time when she had, without contradiction, the full possession of her reason. We have seen from what source the report came, and the interest which her father had in causing it to be believed.

In 1506 Philip, accompanied by Joanna, arrived in Spain for the purpose of assuming himself the power which his father-in-law had usurped. The majority of the people soon declared themselves on the side of Joanna; and Ferdinand, in a fit of anger, was on the point of encountering his son-in-law with capa y spada, intending to plunge his sword into his bosom. But he observed ere long that a party was forming, and was becoming more and more numerous, at the head of which was the constable of Castile, whose object was to set aside both Philip and Ferdinand, and to place the legitimate queen on the throne. Ferdinand was perplexed, finding that he had two rivals, his son-in-law and his daughter. It was clear to him that Joanna, as Infanta and lawful heir[132]ess, would easily win all the hearts of the people, and that Philip, as a foreigner and usurper, would find it hard to gain acceptance. He resolved, therefore, to unite with Philip against his own daughter. He gave him an appointment to meet him at Villafafila, on June 26 (1506). The king determined to assume an appearance of amiability. He took with him only a small number of attendants, dressed himself plainly, mounted an ass, and thus arrived in the presence of his son-in-law with the air of a gallant country gentleman, an amiable smile upon his lips, and saying that he came ‘with love in his heart and peace in his hands.’ Philip received him attended by a considerable number of grandees of the Netherlands and of Spain, besides a large body of men-at-arms. Philip himself, who was surnamed the Handsome, was in the pride of his youth and strength. Ferdinand having dismounted from his ass and saluted his son-in-law begged him to follow him alone into the church. All the members of their suite were forbidden to accompany the two princes, and guards were stationed at the entrance to prevent any one from penetrating into the church. There, at the foot of the altar, these two traitorous men were about to conspire the ruin, the spoliation, and we might almost say the death of their innocent victim, daughter of one of them and wife of the other. The interview began. The sentinels were able occasionally to catch glimpses of the two princes, and even to hear their voices, but they could not understand what they said. Ferdinand spoke much and with animation; Philip made only short answers and at times seemed to be embarrassed. The father-in-law pointed out to his son-in-law that Joanna was on the point of being placed on the throne by the people, and that both of them would thus be deprived of it; that they ought to pledge themselves to combine all their efforts to exclude her, and that they would assign as their motive that she was incapacitated for reigning by reason of ‘her malady,’ which propriety[133] did not permit them to name. It is evident that the reference was to the alleged madness. Whether Philip, who lived with Joanna and knew her real state, had also protested against this false accusation, gave way at once, we can not tell. However this may be, Ferdinand, who for a long time had not seen his daughter, succeeded in persuading his son-in-law to adopt this pretext. It likewise appears that there was already some talk about imprisoning the queen.[204] While Ferdinand thus sacrificed his daughter, he felt no scruple about deceiving his son-in-law. An agreement was concluded between the two conspirators that the government of Castile should belong to Philip; and in the instrument signed the same day it was alleged that Joanna refused to accept it herself. Meanwhile the courtiers were awaiting the two princes; and the guards having reported the visible animation and eloquence of the father-in-law, it was expected that he would come away triumphant. Great, therefore, was the astonishment when it became known that he had yielded every thing to his son-in-law. Thus the story of the madness of Joanna, first invented in the interest of Rome, was confirmed by her father, by her husband, and afterwards by her son Charles the Fifth, in their own interest, and with a view to despoil her of the crown of Spain, of Naples, Sicily and her other dominions.

But what is to be thought of Ferdinand’s concession? It was a mere piece of acting. His ass, his modest suite, his plain unarmed arrival, had been nothing but a comedy, the object of which was to put him in a position to allege that he had fallen into the hands of his son-in-law, and that the latter had compelled him to sign the agreement. He immediately prepared a secret protest, in which he declared that Joanna was kept prisoner by Philip on false pretences, and that he considered it his duty to deliver her and to place her on the throne. He[134] then set out for Naples, delegating as his representative with Philip his well-beloved Master Louis Ferrer, who enjoyed his entire confidence, desiring him to look after his interests. He had hardly set out when, after an illness of three or four days, Philip died. The current rumor was that he had been poisoned. Some persons declared that they knew he had received a dose of poison in his food (bocado). But the scandal of a trial was dreaded, and the matter was hushed up. The guilty Ferdinand remained master of the situation. Joanna had been placed in confinement by her husband immediately after the interview of Villafafila. After the death of Philip, Ferrer took possession of her. Several princes, particularly Henry VII. of England, aspired to the hand of this widow, heiress of several kingdoms; but Ferdinand hastened to write in all directions that to ‘his great vexation’ his daughter could not possibly think of a second marriage. This gradually gave wider currency to the fable of her madness.

The queen was then at Burgos, and it was determined to remove her thence to Tordesillas, where they intended to keep her in confinement. Philip had died at Burgos, and his body was to be transferred to Granada, to be there interred in the sepulchre of the kings. This involved a journey from the north to the middle of Spain, and Tordesillas lay on the road. The scheme was to have the queen set out at the same time as the body of her husband. One and the same escort would thus serve for both. It has been supposed that there might be financial reasons for this arrangement. In our days, it has been said, no one would ever think of such economy. But at that time the want of money was incessantly obtruding itself, and people might be well pleased to save a thousand scudos.[205] This conjecture is[135] admissible; but there were other reasons. The journey was made slowly. On two or three occasions the queen was removed from one place to another by night. But it is of little moment whether the journey from Burgos to Tordesillas was made by night or by day. In any case it was a strange spectacle, the grand funeral car, with its dismal but splendid accompaniments, and after these the carriages of the captive queen, about whom the most extraordinary reports were already in circulation. It has been stated that the death of Philip had cost Joanna the loss of her reason; it has been said that she had so much affection for her husband that she wished to have his body always near her, as if it were still living; that she was jealous even of her dead husband, and would not allow her women to approach his corpse.[206] It was rumored at the time that the queen, watching for the moment of his return to life, refused to be separated from the lifeless body; and this very journey was referred to as an irrefragable proof of her madness. But these allegations are belied by facts. As the tomb at Granada was not yet ready, the body of Philip remained for several years in the convent of St. Clara at Tordesillas, and the queen did not once go to see it nor did she even express a wish to do so. She used to speak of Philip as any faithful wife would speak of her deceased husband. Her excessive tenderness for Philip, who had behaved infamously towards her, her resolution never to be separated from his corpse—these are fables of modern history, invented by those who were determined to deprive her of her rights and to thrust themselves into her place.

Joanna arrived at Tordesillas under the guardianship of Ferrer, the man who, it was believed, had poisoned her husband. The palace was a plain house, situated in a barren country; the climate was scorching in summer and very severe in winter. Joanna was confined here in a narrow chamber, without windows, and lighted only[136] by a candle; she was not allowed to walk, even for a few minutes, in a corridor which looked out upon the river. She was thus refused a liberty accorded even to murderers. She was there, without money, attended by two female keepers, and unable to communicate with the outer world.

The mother of Charles V. continued to show in the prison of Tordesillas her dislike to the Roman ceremonies. She refused to hear mass; and the main business of her keepers was to get her to attend it. The cruel marquis of Denia, count of Lerma, who succeeded Ferrer, endeavored to compel the queen to practices which she abhorred. ‘There is not a day passes,’ he wrote, ‘on which we are not taken up with the affair of the mass.'[207] At length the queen consented to attend mass, at the end of the corridor, either from fear of the scourge, the pain of which she knew, or perhaps in order not to sunder herself from the religion of Spain, of which she constantly hoped to be acknowledged as queen. But when they brought her the pax, the paten which the priest offers to great persons to kiss, she refused it, and commanded it to be presented to the Infanta her daughter, whom they had not yet taken away from her.

At Christmas, 1521, matins were being sung in the chapel which had been fitted up at the end of the corridor. The Infanta alone was present. Suddenly Joanna appeared, wretchedly attired for a queen. She did not attend the mass herself, and even wished to prevent her daughter from attending it. She interrupted the service, ordered with a voice that re-echoed from the walls that the altar should be taken away and every thing else that was used in the religious ceremonies, and then laying hold of her daughter she dragged her away from the place. Nothing could at this time bend her; she resolutely refused to attend mass or any other Catholic services. In vain did the marquis of Denia entreat[137] her to conform to the Roman practices; she would not hear of such a thing. ‘In truth,’ wrote the marquis to Charles V., ‘if your majesty would apply the torture (premia), it would be doing service to God and to her highness.'[208]

The mother of Charles V. was plunged into the deepest melancholy by the treatment to which she was subjected. Her days were a constant succession of sorrows. Her passage through life was from one suffering to another. All her desire was to get out of that horrible prison; and in striving to attain this object she displayed much good sense, earnestness, and perseverance. She begged the marquis of Denia to allow her to quit Tordesillas, at least for a time. She wished to go to Valladolid. She alleged as a reason the bad air she breathed and the acute sufferings it caused her. Her health required a change of air, and she must at least undertake a journey. Her deep feeling moved her barbarous jailer himself. For a moment pity touched that heart of stone. ‘Her language is so touching,’ wrote Denia to the emperor, ‘that it becomes difficult for the marchioness and myself to withstand her appeals. It is impossible for me to let any one go near her, for not a man in the world could resist her persuasion. Her complaints awaken in me deep compassion, and her utterances might move stones.'[209] This is not how Denia would have written to Charles if he had been speaking of a mad woman. Moreover he requested him to destroy his letters. At times she remained silent; and we know that the grief which does not utter itself is only the more fatal to the sufferer. At other times her distress broke forth. One day (April, 1525) she contrived to find access to the corridor and filled it with her sighs and moanings, shedding the while floods of tears. Denia gave orders immediately that she should be taken into her narrow chamber, so that she[138] might not be heard.[210] At the same time he wrote to Charles V.: ‘I have always thought that in her highness’s state of indisposition, nothing would do her more good than the rack; and after this that some good and loyal servant of your majesty should speak to her. It is necessary to see whether she will not make any progress in the things which your majesty desires.’ By these things he means confession, the mass, and other Roman rites.

In 1530, despairing of seeing the queen confess, ‘I can not believe,’ he wrote, ‘that so fortunate a thing can happen. However, I will use all needful endeavors.’

The officers of Charles V., and the monks who had incessantly labored for the conversion of Joanna to Romanism, multiplied their efforts as her death approached. She withstood their pressing entreaties to receive the rites, the symbols of the papacy, and people heard the cries which she uttered while they put her to torture. She would have neither confession nor extreme unction.

Had Joanna become acquainted with the Reformation and the writings of the Reformers, and with the doctrines which they professed? This has been doubted; but it seems improbable that she should have been ignorant of them. Joanna was a Lutheran, says one of the learned writers who have devoted most attention to this subject.[211] This statement is perhaps too definite. But the evangelical doctrines were penetrating everywhere; and they must have reached the prison of Joanna. It has been asserted that Luther at this time had more numerous adherents in Spain than in Germany itself.[212] The keepers of the prison perhaps prevented evangelical works from reaching the queen. There is, however, a[139] light which no hand of man can intercept. The theologian de Soto, celebrated for his acquirements, as well as for his piety, came to her on the morning of her death; and he appears to have thought her a Christian, but not a Roman Catholic. He said: ‘Blessed be the Lord, her highness told me things which have consoled me.’ Here is the Christian. He adds: ‘Nevertheless, she is not disposed to the sacrament of the Eucharist.’ Here is the enlightened woman who rejects the rites of Rome. ‘She committed her soul to God,’ said the princess Joanna, granddaughter of the queen, ‘and gave thanks to Him that at length He delivered her from all her sorrows.’ Her last words were: ‘Jesus Christ crucified, be with me.'[213] She breathed her last on April 12, 1555, between five and six o’clock in the morning.

Thus died the mother of Charles V. at the age of seventy-six years. She had been at various times kept in prison by her husband, Philip of Austria; for ten years by her father, Ferdinand the Catholic; and for thirty-nine years by her son, the emperor Charles V. She is a unique example of the greatest misfortunes, and her dark destiny surpasses all the stories of ancient times. The heiress of so many famous kingdoms, treated as the most wretched of women, was in her last year strictly confined in her dungeon, and lay in the midst of filth which was never removed. Covered as she was with tumors, in anguish and solitude, can we wonder that strange and terrifying images were sometimes produced in her brain by her isolation, melancholy, and fear? But while she was the victim of the gloomiest fanaticism ever met with in the world, she was consoled in the midst of all these horrors, as her latest words prove, by her God and Father in heaven.

The time has come for posterity to render to her memory the compassion and the honor which are her due.






There were in 1536 three distinct parties in England, the papists, the evangelicals, and the Anglican Catholics, who were halting between the two extremes. It was a question which of the three would gain the upper hand.

The Reformation in England was born of the power of the Word of God, and did not encounter there such obstacles as were raised against it in France by a powerful clergy and by princes hostile to evangelical faith and morality. The English prelates, weakened by various circumstances, were unable to withstand an energetic attack; and the sovereign was ‘the mad Harry,’ as Luther had called him.[214] His whims opened the doors to religious freedom, of which the Reformation was to take advantage. Thus England, which had remained in a state of rudeness and ignorance much longer than France, was early enlightened by the Reformation; and the nation awakened by the Gospel gave birth in the sixteenth century to such master minds as France, though more highly civilised, failed to produce so early. Shakespeare was born in 1563, one year before the death of Calvin. The Reformation placed England a century ahead of the rest of Europe. The final triumph, however, of the Reformation was not reached without many conflicts; and the[141] two adversaries more than once engaged hand to hand, before one overthrew the other.

About the middle of October, 1537, an event occurred which was of great importance for the triumph of the Gospel. There was at that time great rejoicing in the palace of the Tudors and in all England, for Queen Jane (Seymour), on October 12, presented to Henry VIII. the son which he had so much desired. Letters written beforehand, in the name of the Queen, announced it in every place, and congratulations arrived from all quarters. This birth was called ‘the most joyful news which for many years had been announced in England.’ Bishop Latimer wrote: ‘Here is no less joying and rejoicing in these parts for the birth of our prince, whom we hungered so long, than there was, I trow, inter vicinos at the birth of St. John Baptist.'[215] (Luke i. 58.) Princeps natus ad imperium! exclaimed the politicians. ‘God grant him long life and abundant honors!’ they wrote from the Continent. Henry was anxious that people should believe in this future. ‘Our prince,’ Cromwell sent word to the ambassadors of England, ‘our Lord be thanked, is in good health, and sucketh like a child of his puissance, which you my lord William can declare.'[216] It was all the more important to declare this, because the very contrary was asserted. It was even reported by some that the child was dead. As Henry feared that some attempt might be made on his son’s life, he forbade that any one should approach the cradle without an order signed by his own hand. Every thing brought into the child’s room was to be perfumed, and measures of precaution against poison were taken. The infant was named Edward; Archbishop Cranmer baptized him, and was one of his godfathers. The king created him at the age of six Prince of Wales and Duke of Cornwall. Sir Edward Seymour, his uncle by the mother’s side,[142] was created earl of Hertford. It was alleged that a spell had been thrown upon the king to prevent his having a male child; and behold, he had now an heir in spite of the spell. His dynasty was strengthened. Henry VIII. became more powerful at home, more respected abroad.

This great rejoicing was followed by a great mourning. The queen took cold; the women in attendance were indiscreet in their management;[217] the queen was seized with acute pains. She was very ill during the night of October 23, and died on the following day.

What would Henry do? He had not a tender heart. Far from rejecting the thought of a fresh marriage, he gave an order, as we find in a letter written on the very day of the queen’s death, requiring his ambassadors, the bishop of Winchester and Lord William Howard, to seek another wife for him. Cromwell pointed out to them two among others, Margaret, daughter of Francis I., afterwards duchess of Savoy, and Mary of Guise, widow of the duke of Longueville, who was the mother of Mary Stuart. The secretary of state, even before the body of the deceased queen was quite cold, wrote: ‘In the ensearching out of which matter, his majesty desireth you both to exhibit that circumspection and diligence that may answer to His Grace’s expectation conceived of you.'[218]

Voilà l’extrême deuil dont son âme est atteinte!

Other agents besides these took part in the search. Hutton,[219] the envoy in the Netherlands, offered several spouses to the king. He might make his choice. There[143] was a daughter of the Sire de Brederode, fourteen years of age; the widow of Count Egmont, who was forty, but did not look so old; the princess of Cleves, but of her there was not much to be said in praise either of her mind or her beauty; the young widow of the duke of Milan, Christina of Denmark, niece of the emperor, who was said to be very beautiful, of agreeable conversation and dignified in person. The king resolved on this last alliance, which would reconcile him with the emperor. For some time nothing was thought of but the making of marriages in this direction. The princess Mary was to marry Louis of Portugal, Elizabeth a son of the king of the Romans, and Edward was to be betrothed to a daughter of the emperor.

The birth of the young prince had, however, another kind of significance. The hopes of the partisans of the Catholic Mary disappeared, and the friends of the Reformation rejoiced at the thought that the young prince was godson of the archbishop. Many circumstances contributed to their encouragement. They witnessed the formation of unlooked-for ties between the evangelicals of England and those of Switzerland; and the pure Gospel as professed by the latter began to exercise a real influence over England. Edward, during his very short reign, was to fulfil the best hopes to which his birth had given rise, and the triumph to which his reign seemed destined was already visibly in preparation.

Simon Grynaeus, the friend of Erasmus and Melanchthon, and professor at the university of Basel had, as early as 1531, held intercourse with Henry VIII. and Cranmer.[220] Afterwards Cranmer and Bullinger, successor of Zwinglius at Zurich, had also become acquainted with each other; and, as early as 1536, some young Englishmen of good family had betaken themselves to Zurich, that they might drink at the full fountain of Christian[144] knowledge and life which sprang forth there. Some of them lived in the house of Pellican, others with Bullinger himself. These young men were John Butler, who had a rich patrimony in England—a sagacious man and a Christian who persevered in prayer; Nicholas Partridge, from Kent, a man of active and devoted character; Bartholomew Traheron, who had already (1527 and 1528) declared at Oxford for the Reformation, and had been persecuted by Doctor London; Nicholas Eliot, who had studied law in England, and who afterwards held some government office; and others besides.[221] Bullinger was strongly attached to these young Englishmen. He directed their studies and, in addition to his public teaching, he explained to them in his own house the prophet Isaiah.

There was much talk at Zurich at this time about a young French theologian, Calvin by name, who was settled at Geneva, and had published a profound and eloquent exposition of Christian doctrines. The young Englishmen eagerly longed to make his acquaintance. Butler, Partridge, Eliot, and Traheron set out for Geneva in November, 1537, bearing letters of introduction from Bullinger to the reformer. The latter received them in the most kindly manner. It was more than common courtesy, they wrote to Bullinger.[222] They were delighted with his appearance and with his conversation, at once so simple and so fruitful. They felt a charm which drew them to his presence again and again. The master taught well, and the disciples listened well. Calvin was at the time in great trouble. Caroli was causing him much annoyance, and persecution had just broken out at Nismes.[223] The four Englishmen, being called elsewhere, took their departure deeply saddened by the painful separation. A[145] letter written by them shortly afterwards is the first communication addressed by England to the reformer of Geneva. It runs as follows:—’We wish you the true joy in Christ. May as much happiness be appointed to us from henceforth as our going away from you has occasioned us sorrow! For although our absence, as we hope, will not be of very long continuance, yet we can not but grieve at being deprived even for a few hours of so much suavity of disposition and delightful conversation. And this also distresses us in no small measure, lest there should be any persons who may regard us as resembling flies, which swarm everywhere in the summer, but disappear on the approach of winter. You may be assured that, if we had been able to assist you in any way, no pleasure should have called us away from you, nor should any peril have withdrawn us. This distress, indeed, which the disordered tempers of certain individuals have brought upon you, is far beyond our power to alleviate. But you have one, Christ Jesus, who can easily dispel by the beams of his consolation whatever cloud may arise upon your mind. He will restore to you a joyful tranquillity; he will scatter and put to flight your enemies; he will make you gloriously to triumph over your conquered adversaries; and we will entreat him, as earnestly as we can, to do this as speedily as possible. We have written these few lines at present, most amiable and learned Master Calvin, that you may receive a memorial of our regard towards you. Salute in our names that individual of a truly heroic spirit and singular learning and godliness, Master Farel. Salute, too, our sincere friends Master Olivetan and your brother Fontaine. Our countrymen send abundant salutations. Farewell, very dear friend.'[224]

England at this time did justice to the Genevese reformer.

Much admiration was likewise felt for Bullinger. We[146] confess ourselves to be entirely yours, wrote to him the four Englishmen, ‘as long as we can be our own.’ The works of the Zurich doctor were much read in England, and diffused there the spirit of the Gospel. Nicolas Eliot wrote to him:—’And how great weight all persons attribute to your commentaries, how greedily they embrace and admire them (to pass over numberless other arguments), the booksellers are most ample witnesses whom by the sale of your writings alone, from being more destitute than Irus and Codrus, you see suddenly become as rich as Crœsus.[225] May God, therefore, give you the disposition to publish all your writings as speedily as possible, whereby you will not only fill the coffers of the booksellers, but will gain over very many souls to Christ, and adorn his church with most precious jewels.'[226]

At the news that the mighty king of England had separated from the pope, the Swiss theologians were filled with hope, and they vied with each other in speeding his progress towards the truth. Bullinger composed two works in Latin which he dedicated to Henry VIII.; the first of them on The Authority, the Certitude, the Stability and the Absolute Perfection of Holy Scripture; the second on The Institution and the Function of Bishops. He forwarded copies of these works to Partridge and Eliot for presentation to the king, to Cranmer, and to Cromwell. The two young Englishmen went first to the archbishop and delivered to him the volumes intended for the king and for himself. The archbishop consented to present the book to the prince, but not till after he had read it himself, and on condition that Eliot and Partridge should be present, that they might answer any questions asked by the king. Then going to Cromwell, they gave him the copy intended for him; and the viceregent, more prompt than the archbishop, showed it[147] the same day to Henry VIII., to whom Cranmer then hastened to present his own copy. The king expressed a wish that the work should be translated into English. ‘Your books are wonderfully well received,’ wrote Eliot to Bullinger, ‘not only by our king, but equally so by the lord Cromwell, who is keeper of the king’s privy seal and vicar-general of the church of England.'[227]

Other Continental divines who held the same views as the Swiss likewise dedicated some theological writings both to the king and to Cranmer. Capito, who was at the time at Strasburg, dedicated to Henry VIII. a book in which he treated, among other subjects, of the mass (de missa, &c.). The king, as usual, handed it to two persons belonging to the two opposing parties, in order to get their opinions. He then examined their verdict, and announced his own. Cranmer wrote to Capito that the king ‘could by no means digest’ his piece on the mass,[228] although at the same time he approved some of the other pieces. Bucer, a colleague of Capito, having written a commentary on the Epistle to the Romans, dedicated it to Cranmer, and wrote to him as follows:—’It is not enough to have shaken off the yoke of the pope, and to be unwilling to take upon us the yoke of Christ; but if God be for us who can be against us? and Christianity is a warfare.'[229]

While the Swiss and the Strasburgers were seeking to enlighten England, the Roman party on the Continent and the Catholic party in England itself were striving to keep her in darkness. The pope, in sorrow and in anger, saw England lost to Rome. Nevertheless the Catholic rising in the northern counties allowed him still to cherish hope. The king of France and the emperor, both near neighbors of England, could if necessary strike with the sword. The pope must therefore stir up to action not[148] only the English Catholics, but also the courts of Paris and Brussels. Whom should he select for the mission? Reginald Pole, an Englishman, a zealous Roman Catholic, and a kinsman of Henry VIII., seemed to be the man made for the occasion. It was he who had lately written these words—’There was never a greater matter entreated, of more importance to the wealth of the realm and the whole church than this [the re-establishment of papal authority]. And this same that you go about to take away, the authority of one head in the church, was a more principal and groundless cause of the loss of the Orient, to be in infidels’ hands, and all true religion degenerate, than ever was the Turk’s sword, as most wisest men have judged. For if they had agreed all with the Occidental Church, they had never come to that misery; and like misery if God have not mercy on us to return to the church, is most to be feared in our realm…. Your sweet liberty you have got, since you were delivered from the obedience papal, speaketh for itself. Whereof the rest of the realm hath such part that you be without envy of other countries, that no nation wisheth the same to have such liberty granted them.'[230] This last assertion was doubtful.

Pole was at this time at Padua, where he had studied, and where he was resident by permission of the king. He avoided going to Rome lest he should offend Henry. But he received one day an invitation from Paul III., who summoned him to the Vatican to take part in a consultation about the general council. To comply with this summons would be to pass the Rubicon; it would make Henry VIII. his irreconcilable enemy, and would expose to great danger not only himself but all his family. Pole therefore hesitated. The advice, however, of the pious Contarini, the command of the pope, and his own enthusiasm for the cause, brought him to a decision. On his arrival at Rome he gave himself up[149] entirely; and when Christmas was drawing near, on December 20, 1536, the pope created him cardinal, together with del Monte, afterwards Julius III.; Caraffa, afterwards Paul IV.; Sadoleto, Borgia, Cajetan, and four others.[231] These proceedings were very seriously criticised in England. For the vain glory of a red hat,[232] said Tonstall and Stokesley, Pole is, in fact, an instrument of the pope to set forth his malice, to depose the king from his kingdom, and to stir his subjects against him. There was, however, something more in his case than a cardinal’s hat; there was, we must acknowledge, a faith doubtless fanatical but sincere in the papacy. Not long afterwards the pope nominated him the new cardinal legate beyond the Alps; the object of this measure being per dar fermento,[233] to excite men’s minds. He was to induce the king of France and the emperor to enter into the views of the Roman court, to inflame the Catholics of England, and, if he should be unable to go there himself, to take up his residence in the Netherlands, and thence conspire for the ruin of Protestantism in England.

At the beginning of Lent, 1537, Pole, attended by a numerous suite, set out from Rome. The pope, who was not thoroughly sure of his new legate, had appointed as his adviser the bishop of Verona, who was to make up for any deficiency of experience on the part of the legate, and to put him on his guard against pride. Henry VIII., on learning the nature of his young cousin’s mission, was exceedingly angry. He declared Pole a rebel, set a price on his head, and promised fifty thousand crowns to any one who should kill him. Cromwell, following his master’s example, exclaimed, ‘I will make him eat his own heart.'[234] This was only a figure of speech, but it was rather a strong one. No sooner had Henry[150] VIII. heard of the arrival of Pole in France than he demanded that Francis I. should deliver him up, as a subject in rebellion against his king. Pole had not been long at Paris before he heard of this demand. It aroused in his heart more pride than fear. It revealed to him his own importance; and turning to his attendants he said, ‘This news makes me glad; I know now that I am a cardinal.’ Francis I. did not concede the demand of the angry Tudor; but he did consider the mission of Pole as one of those attacks on the power of kings in which the papacy from time to time indulged. When Pole, therefore, made his appearance at the palace he was refused admission. While still only at the door, and even before he had had time to knock, he himself tells us, he was sent away.[235] ‘I am ready to weep,’ he added, ‘to find that a king does not receive a legate of Rome.’ Francis I. having sent him an order to leave France, he fled to Cambray, which at that time formed part of the Netherlands.

No sooner was he there than, under great excitement about what had occurred to him at Paris, he wrote to Cromwell, complaining bitterly that Henry VIII., in order to get him into his power, did not scruple to violate both God’s law and man’s, and even ‘to disturb all commerce between country and country.’ ‘I was ashamed to hear that … a prince of honor should desire of another prince of like honor, Betray thine own ambassador, betray the legate, and give him into my ambassador’s hands to be brought to me.'[236] The like, he says, was never heard of in Christendom. Pole had more hope of the emperor than of Francis I.; but he was soon undeceived. He was not permitted to go out of the town; and a courier entrusted with his despatches was arrested by[151] the Imperialists at Valenciennes and sent back to him. He now resolved on taking a step towards opening communication with the English government; and as he did not venture to present himself to the ambassadors of Henry VIII. in France, he sent to them the bishop of Verona. But this prelate, likewise, was not received, and he was only allowed to speak to one of the secretaries. He endeavored to convince him of the perfect innocence of Pole and of his mission. ‘The cardinal-legate,’ he said, ‘is solely charged by the pope to treat of the safety of Christendom.’ This was true in the sense intended by Rome; but it is well known what this safety, in her view, required.

Fresh movements in the north of England tended to increase the anger of Henry VIII. It was not enough that Pole had been driven from France. The king now wrote himself to Hutton, his envoy at Brussels—’You shall deliver unto the regent our letters for the stay of his entry into the emperor’s dominions; … you shall press them … neither to admit him to her presence, nor to suffer unto him to have any other entertainment than beseemeth the traitor and rebel of their friend and ally…. You shall in any wise cause good secret and substantial espial to be made upon him from place to place where he shall be.'[237] Pole, on his part, spoke as a Roman legate. He summoned the queen to prove her submission to the apostolic see, and to grant him an audience; and he made use of serious menaces. ‘If traitors, conspirators, rebels, and other offenders,’ said the English ambassador, ‘might under the shadow of legacie have sure access into all places, and thereby to trouble and espy all things, that were overmuch dangerous.'[238] Here was no question of rebellion, Pole sent word to the regent by the bishop of Verona, but of the Reformation; and he was sent to refute the errors which[152] it was spreading in England. Her opinion was that he should return, ‘for that she had no commission of the emperor to intermeddle in any point of his legacy.'[239]

Hereupon Pole went from Cambray to Liége; but in consequence of the advice of the bishop of Liége, he only ventured to go there in disguise.[240] He was received into the bishop’s palace, but his stay there was ‘not without great fear.'[241] He set out again on August 22, and went to Rome. Never had any mission of a Roman pontiff so entirely failed. The ambitious projects of the pope against the Reformation in England had proved abortive. But one of the secrets of Roman policy is to put a good face on a bad case. The less successful Pole had been the more necessary it was to assume an air of satisfaction with him and his embassy. In any case, was it not a victory for him to have returned safe and sound after having to do with Francis I., Henry VIII., and Charles V.? It was November when he reached Rome; and he was received as generals used to be received by the ancient Romans after great victories. They carried him, so to speak, on their arms; every one heaped upon him demonstrations of respect and joy; and his secretary, on the last day of the year, 1537, wrote to the Catholics of England, to describe to them the great triumph that was made at Rome for the safe arrival of his master.[242] Rome may beat or be beaten, she always triumphs.

This mission of Reginald Pole had fatal consequences. In the following year, his brothers, Lord Montague, the marquis of Exeter, and Sir Edward Nevil, were arrested and committed to the Tower. Some time afterwards his mother, Margaret, countess of Salisbury, the last of the Plantagenets, a woman of remarkable spirit, was likewise arrested. They were charged with aiming at the depo[153]sition of Henry and at placing Reginald on the throne. ‘I do perceive,’ it was said, ‘it should be for my Lord Montague’s brother, which is beyond the sea with the bishop of Rome, and is an arrant traitor to the king’s highness.'[243] They were condemned and executed in January, 1539. The countess was not executed till a later time.

Paul III. had been mistaken in selecting the cousin of the king to stir up Catholic Europe against him. But some other legate might have a chance of success. Henry felt the necessity of securing allies upon the Continent. Cranmer promptly availed himself of this feeling to persuade Henry to unite with the Protestants of Germany. The elector of Saxony, the landgrave of Hesse, and the other Protestant princes, finding that the king had resolutely broken with the pope, had suppressed the monasteries and begun other reforms, consented to send a deputation. On May 12, Francis Burkhardt, vice-chancellor of Saxony, George von Boyneburg, doctor of law, and Frederick Myconius, superintendent of the church of Gotha—a diplomatist, a jurisconsult, and a theologian—set out for London. The princes wished to be worthily represented, and the envoys were to live in magnificent style and keep a liberal table.[244] The king received them with much good-will. He thanked them that, laying aside their own affairs, they had undertaken so laborious a journey; and he especially spoke of Melanchthon in the most loving terms.[245] But the delegates, whilst they were so honorably treated by their own princes and by the king of England, were much less so by inferior agents.[154] They were hardly settled in the house assigned to them than they were attacked by the inhabitants, ‘a multitude of rats daily and nightly running in their chambers.'[246] In addition to this annoyance, the kitchen was adjacent to the parlor, in which they were to dine, so that the house was full of smells, and all who came in were offended.

But certain bishops were to give them more trouble than the rats. Cranmer received them as friends and brethren, and endeavored to take advantage of their presence to promote the triumph of the Gospel in England; but Tonstall, Stokesley, and others left no stone unturned to render their mission abortive. The discussion took place in the archbishop’s palace at Lambeth, and they did their best to protract it, obstinately defending the doctrines and the customs of the Middle Ages. They were willing, indeed, to separate from Rome; but this was in order to unite with the Greek church, not with the evangelicals. Each of the two conflicting parties endeavored to gain over to itself those English doctors who were still wavering. One day, Richard Sampson, bishop of Chichester, who usually went with the Scholastic party, having come to Lambeth at an early hour, Cranmer took him aside and so forcibly urged on him the necessity of abandoning tradition that the bishop, a weak man, was convinced. But Stokesley, who had doubtless noticed something in the course of the discussion, in his turn took Sampson aside into the gallery, just when the meeting was breaking up, and spoke to him very earnestly in behalf of the practices of the church. These customs are essential, said Stokesley, for they are found in the Greek church. The poor bishop of Chichester, driven in one direction by the bishop of London and in the opposite by the archbishop of Canterbury, was much embarrassed, and did not know which way to turn. His decision was for the last speaker. The semi-Roman doctors at this period, who sacrificed to the king the[155] Roman rite, felt it incumbent upon them to cross all Europe for the purpose of finding in the Turkish empire the Greek rite, which was for them the Gospel. England must be dressed in a Grecian garb. But Cranmer would not hear of it; and he presented to his countrymen the wedding garment of which the Saviour speaks.[247]

The summer was now drawing to an end. The German delegates had been in London three or four months without having made any progress. Wearied with fruitless discussions, they began to think of their departure. But before setting out, about the middle of August, they forwarded to the king a document in which they argued from Holy Scripture, from the testimony of the most ancient of the Fathers, and from the practice of the primitive church, against the withdrawal of the cup, private masses, and the celibacy of priests, three errors which they looked upon as having essentially contributed to the deformation of Christendom. When Cranmer heard of their intention to leave England, he was much affected. Their departure dissipated all his hopes. Must he then renounce the hope of seeing the Word of God prevail in England as it was prevailing in evangelical Germany? He summoned them to Lambeth, and entreated them earnestly and with much kindliness[248] for the king’s sake to remain. They replied ‘that at the king’s request they would be very well content to tarry during his pleasure, not only a month or two, but a year or two, if they were at their own liberty. But forasmuch they had been so long from their princes, and had not all this season any letters from them, it was not to be doubted but that they were daily looked for at home, and therefore they durst not tarry.’ However, after renewed entreaties, they said, ‘We will consult together.’ They discussed with one another the question whether they ought to leave England just at the time when she was perhaps on the point[156] of siding with the truth. Shall we refuse to sacrifice our private convenience to interests so great? They adopted the least convenient but most useful course. We will tarry, they said, for a month, ‘upon hope that their tarrying should grow into some good success concerning the points of their commission,’ and ‘trusting that the king’s majesty would write unto their princes for their excuse in thus long tarrying.’ The evangelicals of Germany believed it to be their duty to tolerate certain secondary differences, but frankly to renounce those errors and abuses which were contrary to the essential doctrines of the Gospel, and to unite in the great truths of the faith. This was precisely what the Catholic party and the king himself had no intention of doing. When Cranmer urged the bishops to apply themselves to the task of answering the Germans, they replied ‘that the king’s grace hath taken upon himself to answer the said orators in that behalf … and therefore they will not meddle with the abuses lest they should write therein contrary to that the king shall write.'[249] It was, indeed, neither pleasant nor safe to contradict Henry VIII. But in this case the king’s opinion was only a convenient veil, behind which the bishops sought to conceal their ill-will and their evil doctrines. Their reply was nothing but an evasion. The book was written, not by the king, but by one of themselves, Tonstall, bishop of Durham.[250] He ran no risk of contradicting himself. In spite of this ill-will, the Germans remained not only one month but two. Their conduct, like that of Cranmer, was upright, devoted, noble, and Christian; while the bishops of London and Durham and their friends, clever men no doubt, were souls of a lower cast, who strove to escape by chi[157]canery from the free discussion proposed to them, and passed off their knavery as prudence.

The German doctors had now nothing more to do. They had offered the hand and it had been rejected. The vessel which was to convey them was waiting. They were exhausted with fatigue; and one of them, Myconius, whom the English climate appeared not to suit, was very ill. They set out at the beginning of October, and gave an account of their mission to their sovereigns and to Melanchthon. The latter thought that, considering the affection which the king displayed towards him, he might, if he intervened at this time, do something to incline the balance the right way. He therefore wrote to Henry VIII. a remarkable letter, in which, after expressing his warm gratitude for the king’s good-will, he added:—’I commend to you, Sire, the cause of the Christian religion. Your majesty knows that the principal duty of sovereigns is to protect and propagate the heavenly doctrine,[251] and for this reason God gives them the same name as his own, saying to them, Ye are gods (Ps. lxxxii. 6). My earnest desire is to see a true agreement, so far as regards the doctrine of piety, established between all the churches which condemn Roman tyranny, an agreement which should cause the glory of God to shine forth, should induce the other nations to unite with us and maintain peace in the churches.’ Melanchthon was right as to the last point; but was he right as to the office he assigned to kings? In his view it was a heroic action to take up arms for the church.[252] But what church was it necessary to protect and extend sword in hand? Catholic princes, assuredly, drew the sword against the Protestants rather than the Protestants against the Catholics. The most heroic kings, by this rule, would be Philip II. and Louis[158] XIV. Melanchthon’s principle leads by a straight road to the Inquisition. To express our whole thought on the matter,—what descendant of the Huguenots could possibly acknowledge as true, as divine, a principle by virtue of which his forefathers, men of whom the world was not worthy, were stripped of every thing, afflicted, tormented, scattered in the deserts, mountains, and caves of the earth, cast into prison, tortured, banished, and put to death? Conscience, which is the voice of God, is higher than all the voices of men.



The Romish party in England did not confine itself to preventing the union of Henry with the Protestants of Germany; but contended at all points against evangelical reformation, and strove to gain over the king by a display of enthusiastic devotion to his person and his ecclesiastical supremacy. This was especially the policy of Gardiner. Endowed with great acuteness of intellect, he had studied the king’s character, and he put forth all his powers to secure his adoption of his own views. Henry did not esteem his character, but highly appreciated his talents, and on this account employed him. Now Gardiner was the mainstay of the Scholastic doctrines and the most inflexible opponent of the Reformation. He was for three years ambassador in France, and during that mission he had displayed great pomp and spent a sum equivalent, in our present reckoning, to about sixty thousand pounds. He had visited the court of the emperor, and had had interviews with the Roman legate.[159] One day, at Ratisbon, an Italian named Ludovico, a servant of the legate, while talking with one of the attendants of Sir Henry Knevet, who was a member of the English embassy, had confided to him the statement that Gardiner had secretly been reconciled with the pope, and had entered into correspondence with him. Knevet, exceedingly anxious to know what to think of it, had had a conference with Ludovico, and had come away convinced of the reality of the fact. No sooner did Gardiner get wind of these things, then he betook himself to Granvella, chancellor of the empire, and sharply complained to him of the calumnies of Ludovico. The chancellor ordered the Italian to be put in prison; but in spite of this measure many continued to believe that he had spoken truth. We are inclined to think that Ludovico said more than he knew. The story, however, indicates from which quarter the wind was blowing in the sphere in which Gardiner moved. He had set out for Paris on October 1, 1535; and on September 28, 1538, there was to be seen entering London a brilliant and numerous band, mules and chariots hung with draperies on which were embroidered the arms of the master, lackeys, gentlemen dressed in velvet, with many ushers and soldiers. This was Gardiner and his suite.[253]

The three years’ absence of this formidable adversary of the Gospel had been marked by a slackening of the persecution, and by a more active propagation of the Holy Scriptures. His return was to be distinguished by a vigorous renewal of the struggle against the Gospel. This was the main business of Gardiner. To this he consecrated all the resources of the most acute understanding and the most persistent character. He began immediately to lay snares round the king, whom in this respect[160] it was not very hard to entrap. Two difficulties, however, arose. At first Henry VIII., by the influence of the deceased queen, had been somewhat softened towards the Reformation. Then the rumors of the reconciliation of Gardiner with the pope might have alienated the king from him. The crafty man proceeded cleverly and killed two birds with one stone. ‘The pope,’ he said to the king, ‘is doing all he can to ruin you.’ Henry, provoked at the mission of Pole, had no doubt of that. ‘You ought then, Sire,’ continued the bishop, ‘to do all that is possible to conciliate the Continental powers, and to place yourself in security from the treacherous designs of Rome.[254] Now the surest means of conciliating Francis I., Charles V., and other potentates, is to proceed rigorously against heretics, especially against the sacramentarians.’ Henry agreed to the means proposed with the more readiness because he had always been a fanatic for the corporal presence, and because the Lutherans, in his view, could not take offence at seeing him burn some of the sacramentarians.

A beginning was made with the Anabaptists. The mad and atrocious things perpetrated at Munster were still everywhere talked of, and these wretched people were persecuted in all European countries. Some of them had taken refuge in England. In October, 1538, the king appointed a commission to examine certain people ‘lately come into the kingdom, who are keeping themselves in concealment in various nooks and corners.’ The commission was authorized to proceed, even supposing this should be in contravention of any statutes of the realm.[255]

Four Anabaptists bore the fagots at Paul’s church, and two others, a man and a woman, originally from the[161] Netherlands, were burnt in Smithfield. Cranmer and Bonner sat on this commission, side by side with Stokesley and Sampson. This fact shows what astonishing error prevailed at the time in the minds of men. Gardiner wanted to go further; and while associating, when persecution was in hand, with such men as Cranmer, he had secret conferences with Stokesley, bishop of London, Tonstall of Durham, Sampson of Chichester, and others, who were devoted to the doctrines of the Middle Ages. They talked over the means of resisting the reforms of Cranmer and Cromwell, and of restoring Catholicism.

Bishop Sampson, one of Gardiner’s allies, was a staunch friend of ancient superstitions, and attached especial importance to the requirement that God should not be addressed in a language understood by the common people. ‘In all places,’ he said, ‘both with the Latins and the Greeks, the ministers of the church sung or said their offices or prayers in the Latin or Greek grammatical tongue, and not in the vulgar. That the people prayed apart in such tongues as they would… and he wished that all the ministers were so well learned that they understood their offices, service or prayers which they said in the Latin tongue.'[256] In his view, it was not lawful to speak to God except grammatically.

Sampson, a weak and narrow-minded man, was swayed by prejudices and ruled by stronger men; and he had introduced in his diocese customs contrary to the orders of the king. Weak minds are often in the van when important movements are beginning; the strong ones are in the rear and urge them on. This was the case with Sampson and Gardiner. Cromwell, who had a keen and penetrating intellect, and whose glance easily searched the depths of men’s hearts and pierced to the core of facts, perceived that some project was hatching against the Reformation; and as he did not dare to attack the real[162] leaders, he had Sampson arrested and committed to the Tower. The bishop was not strong-minded and trembled for a slight cause; it may, therefore, be imagined how it was with him when he found himself in the state prison. He fell into great trouble and extraordinary dejection of mind.[257] His imagination was filled with fatal presentiments, and his soul was assailed by great terrors. To have displeased the king and Cromwell, what a crime! One might have thought that he would die of it, says a historian. He saw himself already on the scaffold of Bishop Fisher and Sir Thomas More. At this time the powerful minister summoned him to his presence. Sampson admitted the formation of an alliance between Gardiner, Stokesley, Tonstall and himself to maintain the old religion, its traditions and rites, and to resist any innovation. He avowed the fact that his colleagues and himself stood pledged to put forth all their efforts for the restoration of degenerated Catholicism. In their opinion, nothing which the Greeks had preserved ought to be rejected in England. One day when Bishop Sampson was passing over the Thames in a barge, in company with the bishop of Durham, to Lambeth Palace, the latter produced an old Greek book which he used to carry in his pocket, and showed Sampson several places in that book wherein matters that were then in controversy were ordained by the Greek Church.[258] These bishops, who spoke so courageously to each other, did not speak so with the king. They feigned complete accordance with him; and for him they had nothing but flatteries. Cranmer was not strong, but at least he was never a hypocrite. Sampson, however, exhibited so much penitence and promised so much submission that he was liberated. But Cromwell now knew what to think of the matter. A conspiracy was threatening the work which he had been at so much pains to accomplish. He observed that[163] the archbishop’s influence was declining at court, and he began to have secret forebodings of calamity in which he would be himself involved.

Gardiner, in fact, energetically urged the king to re-establish all the ancient usages. Thus, although but a little while before orders had been given to place bibles in the churches, and to preach against pilgrimages, tapers, kissing of relics, and other like practices,[259] it was now forbidden to translate, publish, and circulate any religious works without the king’s permission; and injunctions were issued for the use of holy water, for processions, for kneeling down and crawling before the cross, and for lighting of tapers before the Corpus Christi. Discussions about this sacrament of the Eucharist were prohibited.[260] It was Gardiner’s wish to seal these ordinances with the blood of martyrs. He had begun by striking in anima vili; the persecution of the Dutch sacramentarians was merely the exordium; it was needful now to proceed to the very action itself, to strike a blow at an evangelical and esteemed Englishman, and to invest his death with a certain importance.

There was at this time in London, a minister named John Nicholson, who had studied at the university of Cambridge, had been converted by means of his conversations with Bilney, and had afterwards been the friend of Tyndale and Frith, and by his intercourse with them had been strengthened in the faith. He was a conscientious man, who did not suppose that it was enough to hold a doctrine comformable with the Word of God, but, conscious of the great value of the truth, was ready to lay down his life for it, even if there were nothing at stake but a point looked upon as secondary. Faithfulness or unfaithfulness to one’s convictions—this was in his view the decisive test of the morality or immorality of a man. In the age of the Reformation there were[164] greater preachers and greater theologians than Nicholson; but there was not one more deserving of honor. Having translated from the Latin and the Greek works which might give offence, and having professed his faith, he had been obliged to cross the sea, and he became chaplain to the English house at Antwerp. Here it was that he became acquainted with Tyndale and Frith. Being accused of heresy by one Barlow, he was taken to London, by order of Sir Thomas More, then chancellor, and was kept prisoner at Oxford, in the house of Archbishop Warham, where he was deprived of every thing, especially of books. On the occasion of his appearance, in 1532, before the archbishop and other prelates, Nicholson steadfastly maintained that all that is necessary to salvation is to be found in the Holy Scripture. ‘This,’ he said, ‘is the question which is the head and whole content of all others objected against me. This is both the helm and stern of both together.'[261] There were forty-five points, and to these he made answer article by article.[262] Shortly afterwards, in consequence of the death of Warham and of Cranmer’s appointment to the vacant see, the Antwerp chaplain was set at liberty. He determined to remain in London, took, it seems, from prudential considerations, the name of Lambert, and devoted himself to the labors of a teacher, but at the same time adhered to the resolution to avail himself of every opportunity of maintaining the truth.

Being informed one day that Doctor Taylor was to preach at St. Peter’s Church, Cornhill, he went to hear him, not only because of his well-known gifts, but also because he was not far from the Gospel. He was later appointed bishop of Lincoln under pious King Edward, and was deprived of that office under the fanatical Mary. Taylor preached that day on the real presence of Christ[165] in the bread and the wine. Nicholson also believed, indeed, in the presence of the Lord in the Supper, but this presence, he believed, was in the hearts of the faithful. After the service he went to see Taylor, and with modesty and kindliness urged various arguments against the doctrines which he had been setting forth. ‘I have not time just now,’ said the doctor, ‘to discuss the point with you, as other matters demand my attention; but oblige me by putting your thoughts in writing and call again when I am more at leisure.’ Lambert applied himself to the task of writing, and against the doctrine of the presence in the bread he adduced ten arguments, which were, says Fox, very powerful. It does not appear that Taylor replied to them. He was an upright man, who gave impartial consideration to these questions, and by Nicholson’s reasoning he seems to have been somewhat shaken. As Taylor was anxious to be enlightened himself and to try to satisfy his friendly opponent, he communicated the document to Barnes. The latter, a truly evangelical Christian, was nevertheless of opinion that to put forward the doctrine of this little work would seriously injure the cause of the Reformation. He therefore advised Taylor to speak to Archbishop Cranmer on the subject. Cranmer, who was of the same opinion, invited Nicholson to a conference, at which Barnes, Taylor, and Latimer were also present. These four divines had not at this time abandoned the view which the ex-chaplain of Antwerp opposed: and considering the fresh revival of sacramental Catholicism, they were not inclined to do so. They strove therefore to change the opinion of the pious minister, but in vain. Finding that they unanimously condemned his views, he exclaimed: ‘Well then, I appeal to the king.’ This was a foolish and fatal appeal.

Gardiner did not lose a minute, but promptly took the business in hand, because he saw in it an opportunity of striking a heavy blow; and, what was an inestimable[166] advantage, he would have on his side, he thought, Cranmer and the other three evangelical divines. He therefore ‘went straight to the king,'[263] and requesting a private audience, addressed him in the most flattering terms. Then, as if the interests of the king were dearer to him than to the king himself, he respectfully pointed out that he had everywhere excited by various recent proceedings suspicion and hatred; but that at this moment a way was open for pacifying men’s minds, ‘if only in this matter of John Lambert, he would manifest unto the people how strictly he would resist heretics; and by this new rumor he would bring to pass not only to extinguish all other former rumors, and as it were with one nail to drive out another, but also should discharge himself of all suspicion, in that he now began to be reported to be a favorer of new sects and opinions.'[264]

The vanity as well as the interests of Henry VIII. dictated to him the same course as Gardiner advised. He determined to avail himself of this opportunity to make an ostentatious display of his own knowledge and zeal. He would make arrangements of an imposing character; it would not be enough to hold a mere conversation, but there must be a grand show. He therefore ordered invitations to be sent to a great number of nobles and bishops to attend the solemn trial at which he would appear as head of the church. He was not content with the title alone, he would show that he acted the part. One of the principal characteristics of Henry VIII. was a fondness for showing off what he conceived himself to be or what he supposed himself to know, without ever suspecting that display is often the ruin of those who wish to seem more than they are.[265]

Meanwhile Lambert, confined at Lambeth, wrote an apology for his faith which he dedicated to the king, and[167] in which he solidly established the doctrine which he had professed.[266] He rejoiced that his request to be heard before Henry VIII. had been granted. He desired that his trial might be blessed, and he indulged in the pleasing illusion that the king, once set in the presence of the truth, must needs be enlightened and would publicly proclaim it. These pleasant fancies gave him courage, and he lived on hope.

On the appointed day, Friday, November 16, 1538, the assembly was constituted in Westminster Hall. The king, in his robes of state, sat upon the throne. On his right were the bishops, judges, and jurisconsults; on his left the lords temporal of the realm and the officers of the royal house. The guards, attired in white, were near their master, and a crowd of spectators filled the hall. The prisoner was placed at the bar. Doctor Day[267] spoke to the following effect: That the king in this session would have all states, degrees, bishops, and all others to be admonished of his will and pleasure, that no man should conceive any sinister opinion of him, as that now the authority and name of the bishop of Rome being utterly abolished, he would also extinguish all religion, or give liberty unto heretics to perturb and trouble, without punishment, the churches of England, whereof he is the head. And moreover that they should not think that they were assembled at that present to make any disputation upon the heretical doctrine; but only for this purpose, that by the industry of him and other bishops the heresies of this man here present (meaning Lambert), and the heresies of all such like, should be refuted or openly condemned in the presence of them all. Henry’s part then began. His look was sternly fixed on Lambert, who stood facing[168] him; his features were contracted, his brows were knit.[268] His whole aspect was adapted to inspire terror, and indicated a violence of anger unbecoming in a judge, and still more so in a sovereign. He rose, stood leaning on a white cushion, and looking Lambert full in the face, he said to him in a disdainful tone: ‘Ho! good fellow, what is thy name?’ The accused, humbly kneeling down, replied: ‘My name is John Nicholson, although of many I be called Lambert.’ ‘What!’ said the king, ‘have you two names? I would not trust you, having two names, although you were my brother.’ ‘O most noble prince,’ replied the accused, ‘your bishops forced me of necessity to change my name.’ Thereupon the king, interrupting him, commanded him to declare what he thought as touching the sacrament of the altar. ‘Sire,’ said Lambert, ‘first of all I give God thanks that you do not disdain to hear me. Many good men, in many places, are put to death, without your knowledge. But now, forasmuch as that high and eternal King of kings hath inspired and stirred up the king’s mind to understand the causes of his subjects, specially whom God of his divine goodness hath so abundantly endued with so great gifts of judgment and knowledge, I do not mistrust but that God will bring some great thing to pass through him, to the setting forth of the glory of his name.’ Henry, who could not bear to be praised by a heretic, rudely interrupted Lambert, and said to him in an angry tone: ‘I came not hither to hear mine own praises thus painted out in my presence; but briefly go to the matter, without any more circumstance.’ There was so much harshness in the king’s voice that Lambert was agitated and confused. He had dreamed of something very different. He had conceived a sovereign just and elevated above the reach of clerical passions, whose noble understanding would be struck with the beauty of the Gospel. But he saw a pas[169]sionate man, a servant of the priests. In astonishment and confusion he kept silence for a few minutes, questioning within himself what he ought to do in the extremity to which he was reduced.

Lambert was especially attached to the great verities of the Christian religion, and during his trial he made unreserved confession of them. ‘Our Saviour would not have us greatly esteem our merits,’ said he, ‘when we have done what is commanded by God, but rather reckon ourselves to be but servants unprofitable to God … not regarding our merit, but his grace and benefit. Woe be to the life of men, said St. Augustine, be they ever so holy, if Thou shalt examine them, setting thy mercy aside…. Again he says, Doth any man give what he oweth not unto Thee, that Thou should’st be in his debt? and hath any man aught that is not Thine?… All my hope is in the Lord’s death. His death is my merit, my refuge, my health, and my resurrection. And thus,’ adds Lambert, ‘we should serve God with hearty love as children, and not for need or dread, as unloving thralls and servants.'[269]

But the king wanted to localize the attack and to limit the examination of Lambert to the subject of the sacrament. Finding that the accused stood silent, the king said to him in a hasty manner with anger and vehemency:[270] ‘Why standest thou still? Answer as touching the sacrament of the altar, whether dost thou say that it is the body of Christ or wilt deny it?’ After uttering these words, the king lifted up his cap adorned with pearls and feathers, probably as a token of reverence for the subject under discussion. ‘I answer with St. Augustine,’ said Lambert, ‘that it is the body of Christ after a certain manner.'[271] The king replied: ‘Answer me neither out of St. Augustine, nor by the authority of any other; but tell me plainly whether thou sayest it is[170] the body of Christ or no.’ Lambert felt what might be the consequences of his answer, but without hesitation he said: ‘Then I deny it to be the body of Christ.’ ‘Mark well!’ exclaimed the king; ‘for now thou shalt be condemned even by Christ’s own word, Hoc est corpus meum.’

The king then turning to Cranmer commanded him to refute the opinion of the accused. The archbishop spoke with modesty, calling Lambert ‘brother,’ and although refuting his arguments he told him that if he proved his opinion from Holy Scripture, he (Cranmer) would willingly embrace it. Gardiner, finding that Cranmer was too weak, began to speak. Tonstall and Stokesley followed. Lambert had put forward ten arguments, and ten doctors were appointed to deal with them, each doctor to impugn one of them. Of the whole disputation the passage which made the deepest impression on the assembly was Stokesley’s argument. ‘It is the doctrine of the philosophers,’ he said, ‘that a substance can not be changed but into a substance.’ Then, by the example of water boiling on the fire, he affirmed the substance of the water to pass into the substance of the air.[272] On hearing this argument, the aspect of the bishops, hitherto somewhat uneasy, suddenly changed. They were transported with joy, and considered this transmutation of the elements as giving them the victory, and they cast their looks over the whole assembly with an air of triumph. Loud shouts of applause for some time interrupted the sitting. When silence was at length restored, Lambert replied that the moistness of the water, its real essence, remained even after this transformation; that nothing was changed but the form; while in their system of the corpus domini the substance itself was changed; and that it is impossible that the qualities and accidents of things should remain in their own nature apart from their own subject. But Lambert was not allowed to[171] finish his refutation. The king and the bishops, indignant that he ventured to impugn an argument which had transported them with admiration, gave vent to their rage against him,[273] so that he was forced to silence, and had to endure patiently all their insults.

The sitting had lasted from noon till five o’clock in the evening. It had been a real martyrdom for Lambert. Loaded with rebukes and insults, intimidated by the solemnity of the proceedings and by the authority of the persons with whom he had to do, alarmed by the presence of the king and by the terrible threats which were uttered against him, his body too, which was weak before, giving way under the fatigue of a sitting of five hours, during which, standing all the time, he had been compelled to fight a fierce battle, convinced that the clearest and most irresistible demonstrations would be smothered amidst the outcries of the bystanders, he called to mind these words of Scripture, ‘Be still,’ and was silent. This self-restraint was regarded as defeat. Where is the knowledge so much boasted of? they said; where is his power of argumentation? The assembly had looked for great bursts of eloquence, but the accused was silent. The palm of victory was awarded to the king and the bishops by noisy and universal shouts of applause.

It was now night. The servants of the royal house appeared in the hall and lighted the torches. Henry began to find his part as head of the church somewhat wearisome. He determined to bring the business to a conclusion, and by his severity to give to the pope and to Christendom a brilliant proof of his orthodoxy. ‘What sayest thou now,’ he said to Lambert, ‘after all these great labors which thou hast taken upon thee, and all the reasons and instructions of these learned men? Art thou not yet satisfied? Wilt thou live or die? What sayest thou? Thou hast yet free choice.’ Lambert answered, ‘I commend my soul into the hands of God, but[172] my body I wholly yield and submit unto your clemency.’ Then said the king, ‘In that case you must die, for I will not be a patron unto heretics.’ Unhappy Lambert! He had committed himself to the mercy of a prince who never spared a man who offended him, were it even his closest friend. The monarch turned to his vicar-general and said, ‘Cromwell, read the sentence of condemnation.’ This was a cruel task to impose upon a man universally considered to be the friend of the evangelicals. But Cromwell felt the ground already trembling under his feet. He took the sentence and read it. Lambert was condemned to be burnt.

Four days afterwards, on Tuesday, November 20, the evangelist was taken out of the prison at eight o’clock in the morning and brought to Cromwell’s house. Cromwell summoned him to his room and announced that the hour of his death was come. The tidings greatly consoled and gladdened Lambert. It is stated that Cromwell added some words by way of excuse for the part which he had taken in his condemnation, and sent him into the room where the gentlemen of his household were at breakfast. He sat down and at their invitation partook of the meal with them, with all the composure of a Christian. Immediately after breakfast he was taken to Smithfield, and was there placed on the pile, which was not raised high. His legs only were burnt, and nothing remained but the stumps. He was, however, still alive; and two of the soldiers, observing that his whole body could not be consumed, thrust into him their halberts, one on each side, and raised him above the fire. The martyr, stretching towards the people his hands now burning, said, ‘None but Christ! None but Christ!’ At this moment the soldiers withdrew their weapons and let the pious Lambert drop into the fire, which speedily consumed him.[274]

Henry VIII., however, was not satisfied. The hope[173] which he had entertained of inducing Lambert to recant had been disappointed. The Anglo-Catholic party made up for this by everywhere extolling his learning and his eloquence. They praised his sayings to the skies—every one of them was an oracle; he was in very deed the defender of the faith. There was one, not belonging to that party, who wrote to Sir Thomas Wyatt, then foreign minister to the king, as follows:—’It was marvellous to see the gravity and the majestic air with which his majesty discharged the functions of Supreme head of the Anglican Church; the mildness with which he tried to convert that unhappy man; the force of reasoning with which he opposed him. Would that the princes and potentates of Christendom could have been present at the spectacle; they would certainly have admired the wisdom and the judgment of his majesty, and would have said that the king is the most excellent prince in the Christian world.'[275]

This writer was Cromwell himself. He suppressed at this time all the best aspirations of his nature, believing that, as is generally thought, if one means to retain the favor of princes, it is necessary to adapt one’s self to all their wishes. A mournful fall, which was not to be the only one of the kind! It has been said, ‘Every flatterer, whoever he may be, is always a treacherous and hateful creature.'[276]




While the Anglo-Catholic party were recovering their former influence over Henry’s mind, some members of the Roman Catholic party were laboring to re-establish the influence of the pope. They supposed that they had found a clue by means of which the king might be brought back to the obedience of Rome. Henry who, while busy in preparing fires for the martyrs, did not forget the marriage altar, was very desirous of obtaining the hand of Christina, duchess of Milan. Now, it was this princess, a niece of Charles V., of whom it was thought possible to make use for gaining over the king to the pope. She was now at the court of Brussels, with her aunt Queen Mary; and it is related that to the first offer of Henry VIII. she had replied with a smile,—’I have but one head; if I had two, one of them should be at the service of his majesty.’ If she did not say this, as some friends of Henry VIII. have maintained, something like it was doubtless said by one of the courtiers. However this may be, the king did not meet with a refusal. Francis I., alarmed at the prospect of an alliance between Henry VIII. and Charles V., sent word to Henry that the emperor was deceiving him. The king did not believe it. The queen regent of the Netherlands endeavored to bring about this union; Spanish commissioners arrived to conduct the negotiation, and Hutton de Wriothesley, the English envoy at Brussels, devoted himself zealously to the business. One of the principal officers of the court,[175] taking supper with the latter, in June, 1538, inquired of him for news about the negotiation. Hutton expressed his surprise ‘that the emperor had been so slack therein.’ His companion remarked that the only difficulty in the matter was that the king his (Hutton’s) master had ‘married the lady Katherine, to whom the duchess is near kinswoman,’ so that the marriage could not be solemnized without a dispensation from the pope.[277]

The emperor spoke more clearly still. Wyatt was instructed to tell the king that the hand of the duchess of Milan would be given to him, with a dowry of one hundred thousand crowns, and an annuity of fifteen thousand, secured on the duchy; and that for the gift of this beautiful and accomplished young widow all they required of him was that he should be reconciled with the bishop of Rome.[278] This was fixing a high price on the hand of Christina. The princess, considering perhaps that it was a glorious task to bring back Henry VIII. to the bosom of the papacy, declared her readiness to obey the emperor. The pope, on his part, was willing to grant the necessary dispensation; but the king must first make his submission. For a prince of such fiery passions this was a great temptation. The chancellor Wriothesley, who was negotiating the affair, was himself undecided about it. At one time he eagerly advocated it, and at another time he wrote (January 21, 1539): ‘If this marriage may not be had with such honor and friendship as is requisite, that his Grace may also fix his most noble stomach in some other place’.[279] The treaty was finally broken off, the thread snapped, to the great regret of the Roman party. One circumstance might influence the king’s decision. Before the negotiations had been closed, in December, 1538, the pope published the bull of 1535, in[176] which he excommunicated Henry VIII. Had the pontiff no hope of good from the matrimonial intrigue, or did he intend to catch the king by fear?

Henry understood that it was not enough to oppose the king of England to the pope. The Word of God was for him the rival of Rome. During these years, 1538 and 1539, in which so many measures were taken against the evangelical doctrine and its teachers, the Bible, strange to say, was printed and circulated. This publication has one singular characteristic; it was made by the intervention of Henry VIII. and Francis I., the two greatest enemies of the faith of the Holy Scriptures among all the sovereigns of the world.

The emperor and the king of France occasionally coquetted with the king of England, whom each of them was anxious to win over to his own side. Francis, knowing how sensitive Henry was on the subject of marriage, offered him his son Henry of Orleans for the princess Mary. Cromwell, who was now giving way to the Anglo-Catholic party on many points essential to reform, was all the more desirous of holding by those which his master would really permit. Amongst these was the translation of the Bible. He saw in the offer made by Francis I. an opening of which he might avail himself. An edition of the Bible, extending to 2,500 copies, published the year before by the eminent printer Richard Grafton in conjunction with Whitchurch, was now exhausted. Cromwell determined to issue a new one; and as printing was better executed at Paris than in London, the French paper also being superior, he begged the king to request permission of Francis I. to have the edition printed at Paris. Francis addressed a royal letter to his beloved Grafton and Whitchurch, saying that having received credible testimonies to the effect that his very dear brother, the king of the English, whose subjects they were, had granted full and lawful liberty to print, both in Latin and in English, the Holy Bible, and of importing it into his kingdom,[177] he gave them himself his authorization so to do.[280] Francis comforted himself with the thought that his own subjects spoke neither English nor Latin; and, besides, this book so much dreaded would be immediately exported from France.

Grafton and the pious and learned Coverdale arrived at Paris, at the end of spring, 1538, to undertake this new edition of Tyndale’s translation. They lodged in the house of the printer Francis Regnault, who had for some time printed missals for England. As the sale of these had very much fallen off, Regnault changed his course, and determined to print the Bible. The two Englishmen selected a fine type and the best paper to be had in France. But these were expensive, and as early as June 23 they were obliged to apply to Cromwell to furnish them with the means for carrying on his edition of the Bible.[281] They were moreover beset with other difficulties. They could not make their appearance out of doors in Paris without being exposed to threats; and they were in daily expectation that their work would be interrupted. Frances I., their reputed protector, was gone to Nice. By December 13, after six months’ labor, their fears had become so serious that when Bonner, who had succeeded Gardiner as English ambassador in France, was setting out from Paris on his way to London, they begged him to take with him the portion already printed and deliver it to Cromwell. The hypocritical Bonner, not satisfied with all the benefices he now held, was grasping at the bishopric of Hereford, which he called a great good fortune, and which he succeeded in getting. He was at this time bent on currying favor with Crom[178]well, on whose influence the election depended, and therefore, hiding his face under a gracious mask, which he was ere long impudently to throw off, he had most eagerly complied with the request.[282]

Four days later, December 17, the officers of the Inquisition entered the printing-office and presented a document signed by Le Tellier, summoning Regnault and all whom it concerned to appear and make answer touching the printing of the Bible. He was at the same time enjoined to suspend the work, and forbidden to take away what was already printed. Are we to suppose that the Inquisition did not trouble itself about the royal letters of Francis I., or that the prince had changed his mind? Either of these suppositions might be entertained. In consequence of the dispatch of the packet to London, there were but a few sheets to be seized, and these were condemned to be burnt in the Place Maubert. But the officer was even more greedy of gain than fanatical; and gold being offered him by the Englishmen for recovery of their property, almost all the sheets were restored to them. His compliance is perhaps partly to be explained by the consideration that this was not a common case. The proprietors of the sheets seized were the Lord Cromwell, first secretary of state, and the king of England. The matter did not rest here; the bold Cromwell was not to be baffled. Agents sent by him to Paris got possession of the presses, the types, and even the printers, and took the whole away with them to London. In two months from the time of their arrival the printing was completed. On the last page appeared the statement: The whole Bible finished in 1539; and the grateful editors added, A domino factum est istud.[283] The violent proceeding of the Inquisition turned to a great[179] gain for England. Many French printers and a large stock of type had been imported; and henceforward many and more beautiful editions of the Bible were printed in England. ‘The wicked diggeth a pit and falleth into it.’

Two parties therefore existed in England, and these frequently concerned themselves more with the points on which they differed than with the great facts of their religion. In one pulpit a preacher would call for reformation of the abuses of Rome; in a neighboring church, another preacher would advocate their maintenance at any cost. One monk of York preached against purgatory, while some of his colleagues defended the doctrine. All this gave rise to most exciting discussion amongst the hearers. In addition to the two chief parties, there were the profane, animated by a spirit of unbelief and without reverence for sacred things. While pious men were peacefully assembled for the reading of the Holy Scriptures, these mockers sat in public-houses over their pots of beer, uttering their sarcasms against every body, and especially against the priests. If they spoke of those who gave only the wafer, and not the wine, they would say:—’That is because he has drunk the whole of it; the bottle is empty.’ At times they undertook even to discuss, as in old times was done at Byzantium, the most difficult points in theology, and this was still worse. The king, anxious to play his part as head of the church, was desirous of bringing about a union of the two chief parties, and had no doubt that the party of the profane would then disappear. His favorite notion, like that of princes in general, was to have but one single religious opinion in his kingdom. Freedom was a restraint to him. He therefore began, as the emperor Constantine had done, by attempting to gain his end by means of a system of indifference and of subjection to his will. In a royal proclamation he required that the party of reformation and the party of tradition should ‘draw in one[180] yoke,'[284] like a pair of good oxen at the plough. He did not omit, however, to read the priests a lesson. He rebuked them for busying themselves far more with the distribution of the consecrated wafer and with the sprinkling of their flocks with holy water than with teaching them what these acts meant. Indifference, however, was of course unattainable, for it implies that each party should consider unimportant the very doctrines on which it sets the highest value. Henry, nevertheless, boldly made the attempt.

When the parliament met on April 28, 1539, the lord chancellor announced that the king was very anxious to see all his subjects holding one and the same opinion in religion, and required that a committee should be nominated to examine the various opinions, and to draw up articles of agreement to which every one might give his consent. On May 5 nine commissioners were named, five of whom were Anglo-Catholics, and at their head was Lee, archbishop of York. A project was presented ‘for extirpating heresies among the people.’ A catalogue of heresies was to be drawn up and read at all the services. The commissioners held discussion for one day, but neither of the two parties would make any concession. As the vicegerent Cromwell and the archbishop of Canterbury were in the ranks of the reformation party, the majority was unable to gain the ascendency, and the commission arrived at no decision.

The king was very much dissatisfied with this result. He had been willing to leave the work of conciliation in the hands of the bishops, and now the bishops did not agree. His patience, of which he had no large stock, was exhausted. The Anglo-Catholic party took advantage of his dissatisfaction, and hinted to him that if he really aimed at unity he would have to take the matter into his own hands, and settle the doctrine to which all must assent. Why should he allow his subjects the lib[181]erty of thinking for themselves? Was he not in England master and ruler of every thing?

Another circumstance, of an entirely different kind, acted powerfully, about this time, upon the king’s mind. The pope had just entered into an alliance with the emperor and the king of France. A fact of such importance could not fail to make a great noise in England. ‘Methinks,’ said one of the foreign diplomatists now in England, ‘that if the pope sent an interdict and excommunications, with an injunction that no merchant should trade in any way with the English, the nation would, without further trouble, bestir itself and compel the king to return to the church.'[285] Henry, in alarm, adopted two measures of defence against this triple alliance. He gave orders for the fortification of the ports, examination of the condition of various landing-places, and reviewing of the troops; and at the same time, instead of endeavoring after a union of the two parties, he determined to throw himself entirely on the Scholastic and Catholic side. He hoped thereby to satisfy the majority of his subjects, who still adhered to the Roman church, and perhaps also to appease the powers. ‘The king is determined on grounds of policy,’ it was said, ‘that these articles should pass.'[286]

Six articles were therefore drawn up of a reactionary character, and the duke of Norfolk was selected to bring them forward. He did not pride himself on scriptural knowledge. ‘I have never read the Holy Scriptures and I never will read them,’ he said; ‘all that I want is that every thing should be as it was of old.’ But if Norfolk were not a great theologian, he was the most powerful and the most Catholic lord of the Privy Council and of the kingdom. On the 16th of May the duke rose in the upper house and spoke to the following effect:—’The[182] commission which you had named has done nothing, and this we had clearly foreseen. We come, therefore, to present to you six articles, which, after your examination and approval, are to become binding. They are the following: 1st, if any one allege that after consecration there remains any other substance in the sacrament of the altar than the natural body of Christ conceived of the Virgin Mary, he shall be adjudged a heretic and suffer death by burning, and shall forfeit to the king all his lands and goods, as in the case of high treason; 2d, if any one teach that the sacrament is to be given to laymen under both kinds; or 3d, that any man who has taken holy orders may nevertheless marry; 4th, that man or woman who has vowed chastity may marry; 5th, that private masses are not lawful and should not be used; or 6th, that auricular confession is not according to the law of God, any such person shall be adjudged to suffer death, and forfeit lands and goods as a felon.'[287]

Cromwell had been obliged to sanction, and perhaps even to prepare, this document. When once the king energetically announced his will the minister bowed his head, knowing well that if he raised it in opposition he would certainly lose it. Nevertheless, that he might to some extent be justified in his own sight, he had resolved that the weapon should be two-edged, and had added an article purporting that any priest giving himself up to uncleanness should for the first offence be deprived of his benefices, his goods, and his liberty, and for the second should be punished with death like the others.

These articles, which have been called the whip with six strings and the bloody statute,[288] were submitted to the parliament. But none of the lords temporal, or of the commons, aware that the king was fully resolved, ventured[183] to assail them. One man, however, rose, and this was Cranmer. ‘Like a constant patron of God’s cause,’ says the chronicler, ‘he took upon him the earnest defence of the truth oppressed in the parliament; three days together disputing against those six wicked articles; bringing forth such allegations and authorities as might easily have helped the cause, nisi pars major vicisset, ut sæpe olet, meliorem.'[289] Cranmer spoke temperately, with respect for the sovereign, but also with fidelity and courage. ‘It is not my own cause that I defend,’ he said, ‘it is that of God Almighty.’

The archbishop of Canterbury was not, however, alone. The bishops who belonged to the evangelical party, those of Worcester, Rochester, St. David’s, Ely, and Salisbury, likewise spoke against the articles.[290] But the king insisted, and the act passed. These articles, said Cranmer at a later time, were ‘in some things so enforced by the evil counsel of certain papists against the truth and common judgment both of divines and lawyers, that if the king’s Majesty himself had not come personally into the parliament house, those laws had never passed.'[291] Cranmer never signed nor consented to the Six Articles.[292]

The parliament at the same time conferred on the king unlimited powers. A bill was carried purporting that some having by their disobedience shown that they did not well understand what a king can do by virtue of his royal power, it was decreed that every proclamation of his majesty, even when inflicting fines and penalties, should have the same force as an act of parliament. Truth had already been sacrificed, and liberty was to be the next victim.


Latimer, bishop of Worcester, did more than Cranmer. On July 1, eight days after the close of the session, he resigned his bishopric, and his heart leaped for joy as he laid aside his episcopal vestments. ‘Now I am rid of a heavy burden,’ he said, ‘and never did my shoulders feel so light.’ One of his former colleagues having expressed his surprise, he replied: ‘I am resolved to be guided only by the Book of God, and sooner than depart one jot from that, let me be trampled under the feet of wild horses!’ He now withdrew into the country, intending to lead there a quiet life. He took care of his flowers and gathered his fruit. Having had a fall from a tree, he found it necessary to return to London for the purpose of procuring surgical attendance. When the government was informed of this, orders were given to arrest and commit him to the Tower, and there he remained till the king’s death. Shaxton, bishop of Salisbury, likewise resigned his see, on what grounds we do not know. Under Queen Mary he became a violent persecutor. Many evangelical Christians quitted England, and among them especially to be noted are Hooper, Rogers, and John Butler.[293] Cranmer remained in his archiepiscopal palace at Lambeth; but he sent away his wife and children to his wife’s relations in Germany.

This want of fidelity on Cranmer’s part is only explicable on the ground of the efforts made by Henry VIII. to retain him. On the day of the prorogation of parliament, June 28, 1539, Henry, fearing lest the archbishop, disheartened and distrusted, should offer to him his resignation, sent for him, and, receiving him with all the graciousness of manner which he knew so well how to assume when he wished, said: ‘I have heard with what force and learning you opposed the Six Articles. Pray state your arguments in writing, and deliver the statement to me.’ Nor was this all that Henry did. Desirous that all men, and particularly the adherents of Anglo[185]-Catholicism should know the esteem which he felt for the primate, he commanded the leader of this party, the duke of Norfolk, his brother-in-law, the duke of Suffolk, Norfolk’s rival, Lord Cromwell, and several other lords to dine the next day with the archbishop at Lambeth. You will assure him, he said, of my sincere affection, and you will add that although his arguments did not convince the parliament, they displayed much wisdom and learning.

The company, according to the king’s request, arrived at the archbishop’s palace, and Cranmer gave his guests an honorable reception. The latter executed the king’s commission, adding that he must not be disheartened although the parliament had come to a decision contrary to his opinion. Cranmer replied that ‘he was obliged to his majesty for his good affection, and to the lords for the pains they have taken.’ Then he added resolutely: ‘I have hope in God that hereafter my allegations and authorities will take place, to the glory of God and commodity of the realm.’ They sat down to table. Every guest apparently did his best to make himself agreeable to the primate. ‘My lord of Canterbury,’ said Cromwell, ‘you are most happy of all men; for you may do and speak what you list, and, say what all men can against you, the king will never believe one word to detriment or hindrance.’ The meal, however, did not pass altogether so smoothly. The king had brought together, in Cromwell and Norfolk, the most heterogeneous elements; and the feast of peace was disturbed by a sudden explosion. Cromwell, continuing his praises, instituted a parallel between Cardinal Wolsey and the archbishop of Canterbury. ‘The cardinal,’ he said, ‘lost his friends by his haughtiness and pride; while you gain over your enemies by your kindliness and your meekness.’ ‘You must be well aware of that, my lord Cromwell,’ said the duke of Norfolk, ‘for the cardinal was your master.’ Cromwell, stung by these words, acknowledged the obligations[186] under which he lay to the cardinal, but added; ‘I was never so far in love with him as to have waited upon him to Rome if he had been chosen pope, as I understand, my lord duke, that you would have done.’ Norfolk denied this. But Cromwell persisted in his assertion, and even specified a considerable sum which the duke was to receive for his services as admiral to the new pope, and for conducting him to Rome. The duke, no longer restraining himself, swore with great oaths that Cromwell was a liar. The two speakers, forgetting that they were attending a feast of peace, became more and more excited and did not spare hard words. Cranmer interposed to pacify them. But from this time these two powerful ministers of the king swore deadly hatred to each other. One or other of them must needs fall.[294]

The king’s course with respect to Cranmer is not so strange as it appears. Without Cranmer, he would have been under the necessity of choosing another primate, and what a task would that have been. Gardiner, indeed, was quite ready to take the post; but the king, although he sometimes listened to him, placed no confidence in him. Not only did it seem to Henry difficult to find any other man than Cranmer; but there was a further difficulty of appointing an archbishop in due form. Could it be done by the aid of the pope? Impossible. Without the pope? This too was very difficult. The priesthood would not concede such a power to the king, nor was it probable that they would accept his choice. The king foresaw troubles and conflicts without end. The best course was to keep the present primate, and this was the course adopted. Herein lay the security of the archbishop in the midst of the misfortunes and scenes of blood around him. He had made a declaration of his faith, and he did not withdraw from it. He[187] hoped for better things, according to the advances which were made him. He believed that by keeping his post he might prevent many calamities. The Six Articles were a storm which must be allowed to blow over; and, in accordance with his character, he bowed his head while the wind blew in that direction.

The bloody statute was the cause of profound sorrow among the evangelical Christians. Some of them, more hasty than others, making use of the strong language of the time, asserted that the Six Articles had been written, not with Gardiner’s ink, as people said, ‘but with the blood of a dragon, or rather the claws of the Devil.'[295] They have been spoken of, even by Roman Catholics of our own age, as ‘the enactments of this severe and barbarous statute.'[296] But the Catholics of that age rejoiced in them, and believed that it was all over with the Reformation. Commissioners were immediately named to execute this cruel law, and there was always a bishop among them. These commissioners, who sat in London, in Mercer’s Chapel, formerly a dwelling house and the place of Becket’s birth,[297] even exaggerated the harshness of the Six Articles. Fifteen days had not elapsed before five hundred persons were imprisoned, some for having read the Bible, others for their posture at church. The greatest zeal was displayed by Norfolk among the lords temporal, and by Stokesley, Gardiner, and Tonstall among the lords spiritual. Their aim was to get a Book of Ceremonies, a strange farrago of Romish superstitions, adopted as the rule of worship.

The violent thunder-clap which had suddenly pealed over England, and occasioned so much trouble, was nowhere on the Continent more unexpected, nowhere excited a greater commotion than at Wittenberg. Bucer on one side, and several refugees arriving at Hamburg[188] on the other, had made known this barbarous statute to the reformers, and had entreated the Protestants of Germany to interpose with Henry in behalf of their fellow-religionists. Luther, Melanchthon, Jonas, and Pomeranus met together, and were unanimous in their indignation. ‘The king,’ they said, ‘knows perfectly well that our doctrine concerning the sacrament, the marriage of priests, and other analogous subjects, is true. How many books he has read on the subject! How many reports have been made to him by the most competent judges! He has even had a book translated, in which the whole matter is explained, and he makes use of this book every day in his prayers. Has he not heard and approved Latimer, Cranmer, and other pious divines? He has even censured the king of France for condemning this doctrine. And now he condemns it himself more harshly than the king or the pope. He makes laws like Nebuchadnezzar, and declares that he will put to death any one who does not observe them. Great sovereigns of our day are taking it into their heads to fashion for themselves religions which may turn to their own advantage, like Antiochus Epiphanes of old. I have power, says the king of England, to require that any one of my courtiers shall not marry so long as he intends to remain at court; for the same reason I have also power to forbid the marriage of priests. We are now entreated to address remonstrances to this prince. The Scriptures certainly teach us to endeavor to bring back the weak; but it requires that the proud who compound with their conscience should be left to go in their own way. It is clear that the king of England makes terms with conscience. He has already been warned, and has paid no attention; there is, therefore, no hope that he will listen to reason if he be warned anew. Consider, besides, what kind of men those are in whose hands he places himself. Look at Gardiner, who while exposing before all the nation his scandalous connections (liaisons) dares to[189] assert that it is contrary to the law of God for a minister of God to have a lawful wife.'[298]

Thus did the theologians of Wittenberg talk of the matter. Calvin thought with them, and he wrote, almost on the same day, that the king of England had distinctly shown his disposition by the impious edict which he had published.[299] The doctors of Wittenberg referred to the Elector; and the latter, to whom Henry VIII. had communicated the Six Articles, requested them to make one more attempt to influence the king. Melanchthon therefore wrote to him; and after an exordium in which he endeavored to prepare the mind of Henry, he said, ‘What affects and afflicts me is not only the danger of those who hold the same faith as we do; but it is to see you making yourself the instrument of the impiety and cruelty of others; that the doctrine of Christ is set aside in your kingdom, superstitious rites perpetuated, and debauchery sanctioned; in a word, to see that the Roman antichrist is rejoicing in his heart because you take up arms on his side and against us, and is hoping, by means of your bishops, easily to recover what by wise counsel has been taken from him.’ Melanchthon then combats the several articles and refutes the sophisms of the Catholic party on the subject. ‘Illustrious king,’ he continued, ‘I am grieved at heart that you, while condemning the tyranny of the bishop of Rome, should undertake the defence of institutions which are the very sinews of his power. You are threatening the members of Jesus Christ with the most atrocious punishments, and you are putting out the light of evangelical truth which was beginning to shine in your churches. Sire, this is not the way to put[190] away antichrist, this is establishing him … this is confirmation of his idolatry, his errors, his cruelty, and his debaucheries.

‘I implore you, therefore, to alter the decree of your bishops. Let the prayers offered up to God by so many pious souls throughout the world, for the true reformation of the Church, for the suppression of impious rites, and for the propagation of the Gospel, move you. Do justice to those pious men who are now in prison for the Lord’s sake. If you do this, your great clemency will be praised by posterity as long as learning exists. Behold how Jesus Christ wandered about from place to place. He was hungry, he was thirsty, naked and bound; he complained of the raging of the priests, of the unjust cruelty of kings; he commands that the members of his body should not be torn in pieces, and that his Gospel should be honored. It is the duty of a pious king to receive this Gospel and to watch over it. By doing so, you will be rendering to God acceptable worship.'[300]

Had these eloquent exhortations any influence on Henry VIII.? On a former occasion he had shown himself rather provoked than pleased by letters of the reformer.[301] However, after the loud peal of thunder which had alarmed evangelical Christians in every part of Europe, the horizon cleared a little, and the future looked less threatening.

There was one point on which Henry did incline rather to Cranmer’s side; this was auricular confession. Perhaps he dreaded it on political grounds. Now the bishops were urgent for its universal adoption, and Tonstall wrote to the king on the subject. Henry rejected his demand and called him a self-willed man. He seemed thus to draw towards reconciliation with his primate. Nor was[191] this all. A bill had passed withdrawing heretics from the jurisdiction of the bishops, and subjecting them to the secular courts. The chancellor, supported by Cranmer, Cromwell, and Suffolk, and with the sanction of the king, set at liberty the five hundred persons who had been committed to prison. The thunderbolt had indeed trenched the seas, but nobody was hurt—at least for the moment.[302]

Henry resorted to other means for the purpose of reassuring those who imagined that the pope was already re-established in England. He exhibited to the citizens of London the spectacle of one of those sea-fights, on which the ancient Romans used to lavish such enormous sums. Two galleys, one of them decorated with the royal ensigns, the other with the papal arms, appeared on the Thames, and a naval combat began. The two crews attacked each other; the struggle was sharp and obstinate; at length the soldiers of the king boarded the enemy and threw into the water amidst the shouts of the people an effigy of the pope and images of several cardinals. The pontifical phantom, seized by bold hands, was dragged through the streets; it was hung, drowned, and burnt.[303] It would have been better for the king to let alone such puerile and vulgar sports, which pleased none but the mob, and to give more serious proofs of his attachment to the Gospel.




At the period which we have now reached, Henry VIII. displayed in a more and more marked manner that autocratic disposition which submits to no control. He lifted up or cast down; he crowned men with honors or sent them to the scaffold. He pronounced things white or black as suited him, and there was no other rule but his own absolute and arbitrary power. A simple and modest princess was one of the first to learn by experience that he was a despot in his family as well as in church and state.

Henry had now been a widower for two years—a widower against his will; for immediately after the death of Jane Seymour he had sought in almost all quarters for a wife, but he had failed. The two great Continental sovereigns had just been reconciled with each other, and the emperor had even cast a slight upon the king of England in the affair of the duchess of Milan. Henry was therefore now desirous of contracting a marriage which should give offence to Charles, and should at the same time win for himself allies among the enemies of that potentate. Cromwell, for his part, felt the ground tremble under his feet; Norfolk and Gardiner had confirmed their triumph by getting the Six Articles passed. The vicegerent was therefore aiming to strengthen at once his own position and that of the Reformation, both of them impaired. Some have supposed it possible that his scheme was to unite the nations of the Germanic[193] race, England, Germany, and the North, in support of the Reformation against the nations of the Latin race. We do not think that Cromwell went so far as this. A young Protestant princess, Anne, daughter of the duke of Cleves and sister-in-law of the elector of Saxony, who consequently possessed both the religious and the political qualifications looked for by the king and his minister, was proposed to Henry by his ambassadors on the Continent, and Cromwell immediately took the matter in hand. This union would bring the king of England into intimate relations with the Protestant princes, and would ensure, he thought, the triumph of the Reformation in England, for Henry’s wives appeared to have great influence over him, at least so long as they were in favor. Henry was, however, seeking something more in his betrothed than diplomatic advantages. Cromwell knew this, and did not fail to make use of that argument. ‘Every one praises the beauty of this lady,’ he wrote to the king (March 18, 1539), ‘and it is said that she surpasses all other women, even the duchess of Milan. She excels the latter both in the features of her countenance and in her whole figure as much as the golden sun excelleth the silver moon.[304] Her portrait shall be sent you. At the same time, every one speaks of her virtue, her chastity, her modesty, and the seriousness of her aspect.’ The portrait of Anne, painted by Holbein, was presented to the king, and it gave him the idea of a lady not only very beautiful, but of tall and majestic stature. He was charmed and hesitated no longer. On September 16, the Count Palatine of the Rhine and other ambassadors of the elector of Saxony and the duke of Cleves arrived at Windsor. Cromwell having announced them to the king, the latter desired his minister to put all other matters out of his head, saving this only.[305] The affair was[194] arranged, and the ambassadors on their departure received magnificent presents.

The princess, whose father was dead and had been succeeded by his son, left Cleves at the close of the year 1539, in severe winter weather. Her suite numbered two hundred and sixty-three persons, among them a great many seigneurs, thirteen trumpeters, and two hundred and twenty-eight horses. The earl of Southampton, Lord Howard, and four hundred other noblemen and gentlemen, arrayed in damask, satin, and velvet, went a mile out of Calais to escort her. The superb cortége entered the town, and came in sight of the English vessels decorated with a hundred banners of silk and gold, and the marines all under arms. As soon as the princess appeared the trumpets sounded, volleys of cannon succeeded each other, and so dense was the smoke that the members of the suite could no longer see each other. Every one was in admiration. After a repast provided by Southampton, there were jousts and tourneys. The progress of the princess being delayed by rough weather, Southampton, aware of the impatience of his master, felt it necessary to write to him to remember ‘that neither the winds nor the seas obey the commands of men.’ He added that ‘the surpassing beauty of the princess did not fall short of what had been told him.’ Anne was of simple character and timid disposition, and very desirous of pleasing the king; and she dreaded making her appearance at the famous and sumptuous court of Henry VIII. Southampton having called the next day to pay his respects to her, she invited him to play with her some game at cards which the king liked, with a view to her learning it and being able to play with his majesty. The earl took his seat at the card-table in company with Anne and Lord William Howard, while other courtiers stood behind the princess and taught her the game. ‘I can assure your majesty,’ wrote the courtier, ‘that she plays with as much grace and dignity as any noble lady that I ever saw in[195] my life.’ Anne, resolved on serving her apprenticeship to the manners of the court, begged Southampton to return to sup with her, bringing with him some of the nobles, because she was ‘much desirous to see the manner and fashion of Englishmen sitting at their meat.’ The earl replied that this would be contrary to English custom; but at length he yielded to her wish.[306]

As soon as the weather appeared more promising, the princess and her suite crossed the Channel and reached Dover, whence, in the midst of a violent storm, they proceeded to Canterbury. The archbishop, accompanied by five bishops, received Anne in his episcopal town, in a high wind and heavy rain; the princess appearing as if she might be the sun which was to disperse the fogs and the darkness of England, and to bring about there the triumph of evangelical light. Anne went on to Rochester, about half way between Canterbury and London. The king, unable to rest, eagerly longing to see his intended spouse, set out accompanied by his grand equerry, Sir Anthony Brown, and went incognito to Rochester.[307] He was announced, and entered the room in which the princess was; but no sooner had he crossed the threshold and seen Anne, than he stopped confused and troubled. Never had any man been more deceived in his expectation. His imagination—that mistress of error and of falsehood, as it has been called—had depicted to him a beauty full of majesty and grace; and one glance had dispersed all his dreams. Anne was good and well-meaning, but rather weak-minded. Her features were coarse; her brown complexion was not at all like roses and lilies; she was very corpulent, and her manners were awkward. Henry had exquisite good taste; he could appreciate beauties and defects, especially in the figure, the bearing, and the attire of a woman. Taste is not without its cor[196]responding distaste. Instead of love, the king felt for Anne only repugnance and aversion. Struck with astonishment and alarm, he stood before her, amazed and silent. Moreover, any conversation would have been impossible, for Anne was not acquainted with English nor Henry with German. The betrothed couple could not even speak to each other. Henry left the room, not having courage even to offer to the princess the handsome present which he brought for her. He threw himself into his bark, and returned gloomy and pensive to Greenwich. ‘He was woe,’ he said to himself, ‘that ever she came unto England.'[308] He deliberated with himself how to break it off. How could men in their senses have made him reports so false? He was glad, he said, that ‘he had kept himself from making any pact of bond with her.’ He thought that the matter was too far gone for him to break it off. ‘It would drive the duke her brother into the emperor or French king’s hands.’ The inconvenience of a flattering portrait had never been so deeply felt. It is not to be doubted that if at this very moment the emperor and the king of France had not been together at Paris, Henry would have immediately sent back the unfortunate young lady.[309]

Shortly after the king’s arrival at Greenwich, Cromwell, the promoter of this unfortunate affair, presented himself to his majesty, not without fear, and inquired how he liked the lady Anne. The king replied,—’Nothing so well as she was spoken of. Had I known as much before as I do now, she should not have come within this realm.’ Then, with a deep sigh, he exclaimed, ‘What remedy?'[310] ‘I know none,’ said Cromwell, ‘and I am very sorry therefor.’ The agents of the king had given proof neither of intelligence nor of integrity in the mat[197]ter. Hutton, who had written to Cromwell that the princess was not beautiful, and Southampton, who had had a good view of her at Calais, had both spoken to the king only of her beauty. On the following day Anne arrived at Greenwich; the king conducted her to the apartment assigned to her, and then retired to his own very melancholy and in an ill humor. Cromwell again presented himself. ‘My lord,’ said the king, ‘say what they will, she is nothing so fair as she hath been reported … howbeit, she is well and seemly.’ ‘By my faith, sir,’ replied Cromwell, ‘ye say truth; but I think she has a queenly manner.’ ‘Call together the council,’ said Henry.

The princess made her entry into London in great pomp, and appeared at the palace. The court had heard of Henry’s disappointment and was in consternation. ‘Our king,’ they said, ‘could never marry such a queen.’ In default of speech, music would have been a means of communication; it speaks and moves. Henry and his courtiers were passionately fond of it; but Anne did not know a single note. She knew nothing but the ordinary occupations of women. In vain did Cromwell venture to say to his master that she had, nevertheless, a portly and fine person. Henry’s only thought was how to get rid of her. The marriage ceremony was deferred for a few days. The council took into consideration the question whether certain projects of union between Anne and the son of the duke of Lorraine did not form an obstacle to her marriage with Henry. But they found here no adequate ground of objection. ‘I am not well treated,’ the king said to Cromwell. Many were afraid of a rupture. The divorce between Henry and Catherine, the cruelty with which he had treated the innocent Anne Boleyn, had already given rise to so much discontent in Europe that people dreaded a fresh outbreak. The cup was bitter, but he must drink it. The 6th of January was positively fixed for the fatal nuptials. The[198] king was heard the day before murmuring in a low tone with an accent of despair,—’It must be; it must be,’ and presently after, ‘I will put my neck under the yoke.’ He determined to live in a becoming way with the queen. An insuperable antipathy filled his heart, but courteous words were on his lips. In the morning the king said to Cromwell,—’If it were not for the great preparations that my states and people have made for her, and for fear of making a ruffle in the world, and of driving her brother into the hands of the emperor and the French king’s hands, being now together, I would never have married her.’ Cromwell’s position had been first shaken by his quarrel with Norfolk; it sustained a second shock from the king’s disappointment. Henry blamed him for his misfortune, and Cromwell in vain laid the blame on Southampton.[311]

On January 6 the marriage ceremony was performed at Greenwich by the archbishop, with much solemnity but also with great mournfulness. Henry comforted himself for his misfortune by the thought that he should be allied with the Protestant princes against the emperor, if only they would consent somewhat to modify their doctrine. On the morrow Cromwell again asked him how he liked the queen. Worse than ever, replied the king. He continued however, to testify to his wife the respect due to her.

It was generally anticipated that this union would be favorable to the Reformation. Butler, in a letter to Bullinger at Zurich, wrote: ‘The state and condition of that kingdom is much more sound and healthy since the marriage of the queen than it was before. She is an excellent woman, and one who fears God; great hopes are entertained of a very extensive propagation of the Gospel by her influence.’ And in another letter he says: ‘There is great hope that it [the kingdom] will ere long be in a much more healthy state; and this every good[199] man is striving for in persevering prayer to God.'[312] Religious books were publicly offered for sale, and many faithful ministers, particularly Barnes, freely preached the truth with much power, and no one troubled them.[313] These good people were under a delusion. ‘The king,’ they said, ‘who is exceedingly merciful, would willingly desire the promotion of the truth.'[314]

But the Protestantism of the king of England was displayed not so much in matters of faith as in public affairs. He showed much irritation against the emperor; and this gave rise to a characteristic conversation. Henry having instructed (January, 1540) his ambassador in the Netherlands, Sir Thomas Wyatt, to make certain representations and demands on various subjects which concerned his government, ‘I shall not interfere,’ drily replied the grand potentate. Wyatt having further made complaint that the English merchants in Spain were interfered with by the Inquisition, the emperor laconically answered that he knew nothing about it, and referred him to Granvella. Wyatt then having been so bold as to remark that the monarch answered him in an ungracious manner,[315] Charles interrupted him and said that he ‘abused his words toward him.’ But the ambassador, who meant exactly to carry out his master’s orders, did not stop, but uttered the word ingratitude. Henry considered Charles ungrateful on the ground that he had greatly obliged him on one important occasion. In fact, the emperor Maximilian having offered to secure the empire for the king of England, the thought of encircling his brows with the crown of the Roman emperors inflamed[200] the ardent imagination of the young prince, who was an enthusiast for the romantic traditions of the Middle Ages. But, after the death of Maximilian, the Germans decided in favor of Charles. The latter then came to England, and the two kings met. Not very much is known of what they said in their interview; but whatever it might be, Henry yielded, and he believed that to his generosity Charles was indebted for the empire. ‘Ingratitude!’ replied the emperor to the ambassador. ‘From whom mean you to proceed that ingratitude?… I would ye knew I am not ingrate, and if the king your master hath done me a good turn I have done him as good or better. And I take it so, that I can not be toward him ingrate; the inferior may be ingrate to the greater. But peradventure because the language is not your natural tongue, ye may mistake the term.’ ‘Sir,’ replied Wyatt, ‘I do not know that I misdo in using the term that I am commanded.’ The emperor was much moved. ‘Monsieur l’ambassadeur,’ he said, ‘the king’s opinions be not always the best.’ ‘My master,’ Wyatt answered, ‘is a prince to give reason to God and to the world sufficient in his opinions.’ ‘It may be,’ Charles said coolly.[316] His intentions were evidently becoming more and more aggressive. Henry VIII. clearly perceived what his projects were. ‘Remember,’ said the king the same month to the duke of Norfolk, whom he had sent as envoy extraordinary to France, ‘that Charles has it in his head to bring Christendom to a monarchy.[317] For if he be persuaded that he is a superior to all kings, then it is not to be doubted that he will by all ways and means … cause all those whom he so reputeth for his inferiors to acknowledge his superiority in such sort as their estates should easily be altered at his arbitre.’ These words show that Henry possessed more political good sense than was usually attributed to him; but they are not exactly a proof of his evangelical zeal.


He did something, however, in this direction. Representatives of the elector of Saxony and the landgrave of Hesse had accompanied Anne of Cleves to England. Henry received them kindly and entertained them magnificently; he succeeded so well in dazzling them by his converse and his manners, that these grave ambassadors sent word to their masters how the nuptials of his majesty had been celebrated under joyful and sacred auspices.[318] Nevertheless, they did not conceal from Henry VIII. that the elector and the landgrave ‘had been thrown into consternation, as well as many others, by an atrocious decree, the result of the artifices of certain bishops, partisans of Roman impiety.’ Thereupon the king, who wished by all means to gain over the evangelical princes, declared to their representatives ‘that his wisdom should soften the harshness of the decree, that he would even suspend its execution, and that there was nothing in the world that he more desired than to see the true doctrine of Christ shine in all churches,[319] and that he was determined always to set heavenly truth before the tradition of men.’ In consequence of these statements of the king the Wittenberg theologians sent to him some evangelical articles, to which they requested his adherence, and which were entirely opposed to those of Gardiner.[320] We shall presently see how Henry proceeded to fulfil his promises.

Cromwell was anxious to take advantage of these declarations to get the Gospel preached, and he knew men capable of preaching it. He relied most of all on Barnes, who had returned to England with the most flattering testimonials from the Wittenberg reformers, and even from the elector of Saxony and the king of Denmark.[202] Barnes had been employed by Henry in the negotiation of his marriage with Anne of Cleves, and had thus contributed to this union, a circumstance which did not greatly recommend him to the king. There were, besides, Garret, curate of All Saints’ Church, in Honey-lane, of whom we have elsewhere spoken;[321] Jerome, rector of Stepney, and others. Bonner, who on his return from France was elected bishop of London, and who was afterwards a zealous persecutor, designated these three evangelical ministers to preach at Paul’s Cross during Lent in 1540. Bonner, perhaps, still wished to curry favor with Cromwell; or perhaps these preachers had been complained of, and the king wished to put them to the test.[322] Barnes was to preach the first Sunday (Feb 14); but Gardiner, foreboding danger, wished to prevent him, and consequently sent word to Bonner that he should that day preach himself. Barnes resigned the pulpit to this powerful prelate, who, well aware what doctrine the three evangelicals would proclaim at St. Paul’s, was determined to prevent them, and craftily to stir up prejudices against the innovators and their innovations. Confutation beforehand, he thought, is more useful than afterwards. It is better to be first than second; better to prevent evils than to cure them. He displayed some ingenuity and wit. Many persons were attracted by the notion that the Reformation was a progress and advance. He alleged that it was the contrary; and, taking for his text the words addressed to Jesus by the tempter on the pinnacle of the temple, Cast thyself down, he said: ‘Nowadays the devil tempteth the world and biddeth them to cast themselves backward. There is no forward in the new teaching, but all backward. Now the devil teacheth, Come back from fasting, come back from praying, come back from confession, come back from weeping for thy[203] sins; and all is backward, insomuch that men must now learn to say their Pater-Noster backward.'[323] The bishop of Winchester censured with especial severity the evangelical preachers, on the ground that they taught the remission of sins through faith and not by works. Of old, he said, heaven was sold at Rome for a little money; now that we have done with all that trumpery the devil hath invented another—he offers us heaven for nothing. A living faith which unites us to the Saviour was counted as nothing by Gardiner.

On the following Sunday Barnes preached. The lord-mayor and Gardiner, side by side, and many other reporters, says the Chronicle, were present at the service. The preacher vigorously defended the doctrine attacked by the bishop; but unfortunately, he indulged, like him, in attempts at wit, and even in a play upon his name, complaining of the gardener who would not take away the tares from the garden of the Lord. This punning would anywhere have been offensive; it was doubly offensive in the pulpit in the presence of the bishop himself. ‘Punning,’ says one, ‘the poorest kind of would-be wit.’ Barnes, however, appears to have been conscious of his fault; for before he closed his discourse he humbly begged Gardiner, in the presence of all his hearers, to lift up his hand, if he forgave him. Gardiner lifted up only a finger. Garret preached energetically the next Sunday; but he studiously avoided offending any one. Lastly, Jerome preached, and taking up the passage relating to Sarah and Hagar in the epistle of St. Paul to the Galatians, maintained that all those who are born of Sarah, the lawful wife, that is, who have been regenerated by faith, are fully and positively justified.[324]

Bishop Gardiner and his friends lost no time in complaining to the king of the ‘intolerable arrogance of Barnes.’ ‘A prelate of the kingdom to be thus insulted[204] at Paul’s Cross!’ said the former ambassador to France. Henry sent for the culprit to his cabinet. Barnes confessed that he had forgotten himself, and promised to be on his guard against such rash speeches in future. Jerome and Garret likewise were reprimanded; and the king commanded the three evangelists to read in public on the following Sunday, at the solemn Easter service celebrated in the church of St. Mary’s Hospital, a retractation which was delivered to them in writing. They felt bound to submit unreservedly to the commands of the king. Barnes, therefore, when the 4th of April was come, ascended the pulpit and read word for word the official paper which he had received. After this, turning to the bishop of Winchester, who was present by order of the king, he earnestly and respectfully begged his pardon. Having thus discharged, as he believed, his duty, first as a subject, then as a Christian, he felt bound to discharge also that of a minister of God. He therefore preached powerfully the doctrine of salvation by grace, the very doctrine for which he was persecuted. The lord-mayor, who was sitting by Gardiner’s side, turned to the bishop and asked him whether he should send him from the pulpit to ward for that his bold preaching contrary to his retractation.[325] Garret and Jerome having followed the example of Barnes, the king gave orders that the three evangelists should be taken and confined in the Tower. ‘Three of our best ministers,’ wrote Butler to Bullinger, ‘are confined in the Tower of London. You may judge from this of our misfortunes.'[326]

At the same time that Henry VIII. was imprisoning the ministers of God’s Word, he was giving full liberty to the Word itself. It must be confessed that in his conflict with the pope he did make use of the Bible. He interpreted it, indeed, in his own way; but still he used it and helped to circulate it. This was a fact of impor[205]tance for the Reformation in England. The first Bible named after Cranmer appeared at this time (April, 1540), with a preface by the archbishop, in which he called upon ‘high and low, male and female, rich and poor, master and servant, to read it and to meditate upon it in their own houses.'[327] A magnificent copy on vellum was presented to the king. In the same month appeared another Bible, printed in smaller type; in July another great Bible; in November a third in folio, authorized by Henry VIII., ‘supreme head of his church.’ It would seem even that there was one more edition this year. At all events, the New Testament was printed.[328] The enemies of the Bible were in power. Nevertheless the Bible was gaining the victory; and the luminary which was to enlighten the world was beginning to shed abroad its light everywhere.



Eight days after the imprisonment of Barnes and his two friends (April 12, 1540), parliament opened for the first time without abbots or priors. Cromwell was thoughtful and uneasy; he saw everywhere occasions of alarm; he felt his position insecure. The statute of the Six Articles, the conviction which possessed his mind that the doctrines of the Middle Ages were regaining an indisputable ascendency over the king, the wrath of Norfolk, and Henry’s ill-will on account of the queen whom Cromwell had chosen for him—these were the[206] dark points which threatened his future. His friends were scattered or persecuted; his enemies were gathered about the throne. Henry, however, made no sign, but secretly meditated a violent blow. He concealed the game he was playing so that others, and especially Cromwell himself, should have no perception of it. The powerful minister, therefore, appeared in parliament, assuming a confident air, as the ever-powerful organ of the supreme will of the king. Henry VIII., the man of extremes, thought proper at this time to exhibit himself as an advocate of a middle course. The country is agitated by religious dissensions, said the vicegerent, his representative; and in his speech to the House he set forth on the one hand the rooted superstition and obstinate clinging to popery, and on the other thoughtless and impertinent and culpable rashness (referring doubtless to Barnes): that the king desired a union of the two parties; that he leaned to neither side; that he would equally repress the license of heretics and that of the papists, and that he ‘set the pure and sincere doctrine of Christ before his eyes.'[329] These words of Cromwell were wise. Union in the truth is the great want of all ages. But Henry added his comment. He refused to turn to the right or to the left. He would not himself hold, nor did he intend to permit England to hold, any other doctrine than that prescribed by his own sovereign authority, sword in hand. Cromwell did not fail to let it be known by what method the king meant to bring about this union; he insisted on penalties against all who did not submit to the Bible and against those who put upon it a wrong interpretation. Henry intended to strike right and left with his vigorous lance. To carry out the scheme of union a commission was appointed, the result of which, after two years’ labors, was a confused medley of truths and errors.[330]


Strange to say, although Cromwell was now on the brink of an abyss, the king still heaped favors upon him. He was already chancellor of the Exchequer, first secretary of state, vicegerent and vicar-general of England in spiritual affairs, lord privy seal, and knight of the Garter; but he was now to see fresh honors added to all these. The earl of Essex had just died, and a week later died the earl of Oxford, who had been lord chamberlain. Hereupon Henry made Cromwell, ‘the blacksmith’s son,’ whom Norfolk and the other nobles despised so heartily, earl of Essex and lord chamberlain, and had his name placed at the head of the roll of peers. Wealth was no more wanting to him than honors. He received a large portion of the property of the deceased lord Essex; the king conferred on him thirty manors taken from the suppressed monasteries; he owned great estates in eight counties; and he still continued to superintend the business of the crown. We might well ask how it came to pass that such a profusion of favors fell to his lot just at the time when the king was angry with him as the man who had given him Anne of Cleves for a wife; when the imprisonment of Barnes, his friend and confidential agent, greatly compromised him, and when, in addition to these things, Norfolk, Gardiner, and the whole Catholic party were striving to put down this parvenu, who offended them and stood in their way. Two answers may be given to this question. Henry was desirous that Cromwell should make a great effort to secure the assent of parliament to bills of a very extraordinary character but very advantageous to the king; and it was his hope that the titles under which Cromwell would appear before the houses would make success easier. Several contemporaries, however, assigned a different cause for these royal favors. ‘Some persons now suspect,’ wrote Hilles to Bullinger, ‘that this was all an artifice, to make people conclude that he [Cromwell] must have been a most wicked traitor, and guilty of treason in every possible[208] way; or else the king would never have executed one who was so dear to him, as was made manifest by the presents he had bestowed upon him.'[331] Besides, was it not the custom of the ancients to crown their victims with flowers before sacrificing them?

Henry was greedy of money, and was in want of it, for he spent it prodigally. He applied to Cromwell for it. The latter was aware that in making himself the king’s instrument in this matter he was estranging from himself the mind of the nation; but he considered that a great sovereign must have great resources, and he was always willing to sacrifice himself for the king, for to him he owed every thing, and he loved him in spite of his faults. On April 23, four days after receiving from the king such extraordinary favors, Cromwell proposed to the house to suppress the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, and urged that their estates, which were considerable, should be given to the king. This was agreed to by parliament. On May 3 he demanded for his majesty a subsidy of unparalleled character, namely, four tenths and fifteenths, in addition to ten per cent. on the rents of lands and five per cent. on the value of merchandise. This also he obtained. Next he went to the convocation of the clergy, and claimed from them two tenths and twenty per cent. on ecclesiastical revenues for two years. Again he succeeded. By May 8 the king had obtained through Cromwell’s energy all that he wished for.

On the very next day, Sunday, May 9, Cromwell received in his palace a note from the king thus worded:[332]

‘Henry R.

‘By the King.

‘Right trusty and well beloved cousin,—We greet you well; signifying unto you our pleasure and commandment is that forthwith, and upon the receipt of these our let[209]ters, setting all other affairs apart, ye do repair unto us, for the treaty of such great and weighty matters as whereupon doth consist the surety of our person, the preservation of our honor, and the tranquillity and quietness of you, and all other our loving and faithful subjects, like as at your arrival here ye shall more plainly perceive and understand. And that ye fail not hereof, as we specially trust you.

‘Given under our signet, at our manor of Westminster, the 9th day of May.’

What could this urgent and mysterious note mean? Cromwell could not rest after reading it. ‘The surety of our person, the preservation of our honor’ are in question, said the king. We may imagine the agitation of his mind, his fears as to the result of the visit, and the state of perplexity in which, without losing a minute, he went in obedience to the king’s command. We have no information as to what passed at this interview. Probably the minister supposed that he had justified himself in his master’s sight. On the following day, Monday, the earl of Essex was present as usual in the House of Lords and introduced a bill. The day after, parliament was prorogued till May 25. What could be the reason for this? It has been supposed that Cromwell’s enemies wished to gain the time needful for collecting evidence in support of the charges which they intended to bring against him. When the fifteen days had elapsed, parliament met again, and the earl of Essex was in his place on the first and following days. He was still in the assembly as minister of the king on June 10, on which day, at three o’clock, there was a meeting of the Privy Council. The duke of Norfolk, the earl of Essex, and the other members were quietly seated round the table, when the duke rose and accused Cromwell of high treason. Cromwell understood that Norfolk was acting under the sanction of the king, and he recollected the note of May 9.[210] The lord chancellor arrested him and had him conducted to the Tower.[333]

Norfolk was more than ever in favor, for Henry, husband of Anne of Cleves, was at this time enamored of Norfolk’s niece. He believed—and Gardiner, doubtless, did not fail to encourage the belief—that he must promptly take advantage of the extraordinary good-will which the king testified to him to overthrow the adversary of Anglican Catholicism, the powerful protector of the Bible and the Reformation. In the judgment of this party Cromwell was a heretic and a chief of heretics. This was the principal motive, and substantially the only motive, of the attack made on the earl of Essex. In a letter addressed at this time by the Council to Sir John Wallop,[334] ambassador at the court of France, a circular letter sent also to the principal officers and representatives of the king, the crime of which Cromwell was accused is distinctly set forth. ‘The lord privy seal,’ it was therein said, ‘to whom the king’s said majesty hath been so special good and gracious lord, neither remembering his duty herein to God, nor yet to his highness … hath not only wrought clean contrary to this his grace’s most godly intent, secretly and indirectly advancing the one of the extremes, and leaving the mean indifferent true and virtuous way which his majesty sought and so entirely desired; but also hath showed himself so fervently bent to the maintenance of that his outrage that he hath not spared most privily, most traitorously, to devise how to continue the same, and plainly in terms to say, as it hath been justified to his face by good witness, that if the king and all his realm would turn and vary from his opinions, he would fight in the field in his own person, with his sword in his hand, against him and all other; adding that if he lived a year or two he trusted to bring things[211] to that frame that it should not lie in the king’s power to resist or let it, if he would; binding his words with such oaths and making such gesture and demonstration with his arms, that it might well appear he had no less fixed in his heart than was uttered with his mouth. For the which apparent and most detestable treasons, and also for … other enormities … he is committed to the Tower of London, there to remain till it shall please his majesty to have him thereupon tried according to the order of his laws.’ It was added that the king, remembering how men wanting the knowledge of the truth would speak diversely of the matter, desired them to declare and open the whole truth.

Nothing could be more at variance with the character and the whole life of Cromwell than the foolish sayings attributed to him. Every intelligent man might see that they were mere falsehoods invented by the Catholic party to hide its own criminal conduct. But at the same time it most clearly pointed out in this letter the real motive of the blow aimed at Cromwell, the first, true, efficient cause of his fall, the object which his enemies had in view and towards which they were working. They fancied that the overthrow of Cromwell would be the overthrow of the Reformation. Wallop did not fail to impart the information to the court to which he was accredited; and Henry VIII. was delighted to hear of ‘the friendly rejoyce of our good brother the French king, the constable and others there,’ on learning the arrest of the lord privy seal.[335] This rejoicing was very natural on the part of Francis I., Montmorency, and the rest of them.

As soon as the arrest of June 10 was known, the majority of those who had most eagerly sought after the favor of Cromwell, and especially Bonner, bishop of London, immediately turned round and declared against him. He had gained no popularity by promoting the last bills passed to the king’s advantage; and the news of his im[212]prisonment was therefore received with shouts of joy.[336] In the midst of the general defection, one man alone remained faithful to the prisoner—this was Cranmer. The man who had formerly undertaken the defence of Anne Boleyn now came forward in defence of Cromwell. The archbishop did not attend the Privy Council on Thursday, June 10; but being in his place on the Friday, he heard that the earl of Essex had been arrested as a traitor. The tidings astonished and affected him deeply. He saw in Cromwell at this time not only his personal friend, not only the prudent and devoted supporter of the Reformation, but also the ablest minister and the most faithful servant of the king. He saw the danger to which he exposed himself by undertaking the defence of the prisoner; and he felt that it was his duty not recklessly to offend the king. He therefore wrote to him in a prudent manner, reminding him, nevertheless, energetically, of all that Cromwell had been. His letter to the king was written the day after he heard of the fall of the minister. ‘I heard yesterday in your grace’s council,’ he says, ‘that he [Cromwell] is a traitor; yet who can not be sorrowful and amazed that he should be a traitor against your majesty, he that was so advanced by your majesty; he whose surety was only by your majesty; he who loved your majesty (as I ever thought) no less than God; he who studied always to set forwards whatsoever was your majesty’s will and pleasure; he that cared for no man’s displeasure to serve your majesty; he that was such a servant, in my judgment, in wisdom, diligence, faithfulness, and experience, as no prince in this realm ever had; he that was so vigilant to preserve your majesty from all treasons that few could be so secretly conceived but he detected the same in the beginning? If the noble princes of memory, King John, Henry II., and Richard II. had had such a counsellor about them, I suppose that they should never have been[213] so traitorously abandoned and overthrown as those good pious princes were…. I loved him as my friend, for so I took him to be; but I chiefly loved him for the love which I thought I saw him bear ever towards your grace, singularly above all other. But now, if he be a traitor, I am sorry that ever I loved him or trusted him, and I am very glad that his treason is discovered in time. But yet again I am very sorrowful, for who shall your grace trust hereafter, if you might not trust him? Alas! I bewail and lament your grace’s chance herein, I wot not whom your grace may trust. But I pray God continually night and day to send such a counsellor in his place whom your grace may trust, and who for all his qualities can and will serve your grace like to him, and that will have so much solicitude and care to preserve your grace from all dangers as I ever thought he had.'[337]

Cranmer was doubtless a weak man; but assuredly it was a proof of some devotion to truth and justice, and of some boldness too, thus to plead the cause of the prisoner before a prince so absolute as Henry VIII., and even to express the wish that some efficient successor might be found. Lord Herbert of Cherbury thinks that Cranmer wrote to the king boldly; and this is also our opinion. The prince being intolerant of contradiction, this step of the archbishop was more than was needed to ruin him as well as Cromwell.

Meanwhile, the enemies of the prisoner were trying to find other grounds of accusation besides that which they had first brought forward. Indeed, it seemed to some persons a strange thing that he who, under Henry VIII. was head of the church, vicegerent in spiritual affairs, should be a heretic and a patron of heretics; and many found in this charge an ‘occasion of merriment.'[338] They set to work, therefore, after the blow, to discover offences[214] on the part of the accused. After taking great pains, this is what they discovered and set forth in the bill of attainder: 1. That he had set at liberty some prisoners suspected of treason; a crime indeed in the eyes of a gloomy despot, but in the judgment of righteous men an act of justice and virtue. 2. That he had granted freedom of export of corn, horses, and other articles of commerce; the crime of free trade which would be no crime now. Not a single instance can be specified in which Cromwell had received any present for such license. 3. That he had, though a low-born man, given places and orders, saying only that he was sure that the king would approve them. On this point Cromwell might reasonably allege the multiplicity of matters entrusted to his care, and the annoyance to which it must have subjected the king, had he continually troubled him to decide the most trifling questions. 4. That he had given permission, both to the king’s subjects and to foreigners, to cross the sea ‘without any search.’ This intelligent minister appears to have aimed at an order of things less vexatious and more liberal than that established under Henry VIII., and in this respect he stood ahead of his age. 5. That he had made a large fortune, that he had lived in great state, and had not duly honored the nobility. There were not a few of the nobles who were far from being honorable, and this great worker had no liking for drones and idlers. With respect to his fortune, Cromwell incurred heavy expenses for the affairs of the realm. In many countries he kept well-paid agents, and the money which he had in his hands was spent more in state affairs than in satisfying his personal wishes. In all this there was evidently more to praise than to blame. But Cromwell had enemies who went further than his official accusers.[339] The Roman Catholics[215] gave out that he had aspired to the hand of the king’s daughter, the princess Mary. This would have been a strange and sympathetic union, between the Malleus monachorum and the fanatical Mary!

These groundless charges were followed by the true motives for his disgrace. It was alleged that he had adopted heretical (that is to say, evangelical) opinions; that he had promoted the circulation of heretical works; that he had settled in the realm many heretical ministers; and that he had caused men accused of heresy to be set at liberty. That when any one went to him to make complaint of detestable errors, he defended the heretics and severely censured the informers; and that in March last, persons having complained to him of the new preachers, he answered that ‘their preaching was good.'[340] For these crimes, the acts of a Christian, honest and beneficent man, condemnation must be pronounced. Cromwell indeed was guilty.

The conduct of the prosecution was entrusted to Richard Rich, formerly speaker of the House of Commons, now solicitor-general and chancellor of the court of augmentations. He had already rendered service to the king in the trials of Bishop Fisher and Sir Thomas More; the same might be expected of him in the trial of Cromwell. It appears that he accused Cromwell of being connected with Throgmorton,[341] the friend and agent of Cardinal Pole. Now the mere mention of Pole’s name would put Henry out of temper. Cromwell’s alliance with this friend of the pope was the pendant of his scheme of marriage with the lady Mary; the one was as probable as the other. Cromwell wrote from his prison to the king on the subject, and stoutly denied the fable. It was not introduced into the formal pleadings; but the charge was left vaguely impending over him, and it was[216] reasserted that he was guilty of treason. Cromwell was certainly not faultless. He was above all a politician, and political interests had too much weight with him. He was the advocate of some vexatious and unjust measures, and he acted sometimes in opposition to his own principles. But his main fault was a too servile devotion to the prince who pretended that he had been betrayed by him; and of this he had given a lamentable proof in the case of Anne Boleyn.

His enemies were afraid that, if the trial were conducted openly before his peers according to law, he would make his voice heard and clear himself of all their imputations. They resolved therefore to proceed against him without trial, and without discussion, by the parliamentary method, by bill of attainder; a course pronounced by Roman Catholics themselves ‘a most iniquitous measure.'[342] He ought to have been tried, and he was not tried. He was, however, confronted on Friday, June 11, the day after his arrest, with one of his accusers, and thus learnt what were the charges brought against him. Conducted again to the Tower, he became fully aware of the danger which was impending over him. The power of his enemies, Gardiner and Norfolk, the increasing disfavor of Anne of Cleves, which seemed inevitably to involve his own ruin, the proceedings instituted against Barnes and other evangelists, the anger of the king—all these things alarmed him and produced the conviction in his mind that the issue was doubtful, and that the danger was certain. He was in a state of great distress and deep melancholy; gloomy thoughts oppressed him, and his limbs trembled. The prison has been called the porch of the grave, and Cromwell indeed[217] looked upon it as a grave. On June 30 he wrote to the king from his gloomy abode an affecting letter, ‘with heavy heart and trembling hand,’ as he himself said.

About the end of June, the duke of Norfolk, the lord chancellor, and the lord high admiral went to the Tower, instructed to examine Cromwell and to make various declarations to him on the part of the king. The most important of these related to the marriage of Henry VIII. with Anne of Cleves. They called upon him to state all that he knew touching this marriage, ‘as he might do before God on the dread day of judgment.’ On June 30 Cromwell wrote to the king a letter in which he set forth what he knew on the subject; and he added: ‘And this is all that I know, most gracious and most merciful sovereign lord, beseeching Almighty God … to counsel you, preserve you, maintain you, remedy you, relieve and defend you, as may be most to your honor, with prosperity, health and comfort of your heart’s desire … [giving you] continuance of Nestor’s years…. I am a most woeful prisoner, ready to take the death, when it shall please God and your majesty; and yet the frail flesh inciteth me continually to call to your grace for mercy and grace for mine offences: and thus Christ save, preserve, and keep you.

‘Written at the Tower this Wednesday, the last day of June, with the heavy heart and trembling hand of your highness’ most heavy and most miserable prisoner and poor slave,

‘Thomas Crumwell.’

After having signed the letter, Cromwell, overpowered with terror at his future prospects, added:—

‘Most gracious prince, I cry for mercy, mercy, mercy.'[343]

The heads of the clerical party, impatient to be rid of an enemy whom they hated, hurried on the fatal decree. The Parliament met on Thursday, June 17, seven days[218] after Cromwell’s imprisonment; and Cranmer, who had attended the sittings of the House of Lords on the previous days, was not present on this occasion. The earl of Southampton, who had become lord keeper of the privy seal in Cromwell’s place, entered and presented the bill of attainder against his predecessor. It was read a first time. The second and third readings followed on Saturday the 19th. Cranmer, whose absence had probably been noticed, was present; and, according to his lamentable system, adapted to the despotism of his master, after having complied with the dictate of his conscience by calling to mind the merits of Cromwell, he complied with the will of the king, and by his silence acquiesced in the proceedings of the House. The bill was sent to the lower House. It appears that the commons raised some scruples or objections, for the bill remained under consideration for ten days. It was not until June 29 that the commons sent the bill back to the peers, with some amendments; and the peers, ever in haste, ordered that the three readings should take place at the same sitting. They then sent it to the king, who gave his assent to it. The man who was prosecuted had been so powerful that it was feared lest he should regain his strength and begin to advance with fresh energy.

The king, meanwhile, seems to have hesitated. He was less decided than those who at this time enjoyed his favor.

Although the lord chancellor, the duke of Norfolk, and Lord Russell had come to announce to Cromwell that the bill of attainder had passed, he remained still a whole month in the Tower. The royal commissioners interrogated him at intervals on various subjects. It seems even that the king sent him relief, probably to mitigate the severities of his imprisonment. Cromwell habitually received the king’s commissioners with dignity, and answered them with discretion. Whether the[219] questions touched on temporal or ecclesiastical affairs, he ever showed himself better informed than his questioners.[344]

Henry sent word to him that he might write any thing that he thought meet under his present circumstances. From this, Cromwell appears to have conceived a hope that the king would not permit his sentence to be executed. He took courage and wrote to the king. ‘Most gracious king,’ he said, ‘your most lamentable servant and prisoner prostrate at the feet of your most excellent majesty, have heard your pleasure … that I should write…. First, where I have been accused to your majesty of treason, to that I say, I never in all my life thought willingly to do that thing that might or should displease your majesty…. What labors, pains, and travails I have taken, according to my most bounden duty God also knoweth…. If it had been or were in my power, to make your majesty so puissant, as all the world should be compelled to obey you, Christ he knoweth I would,… for your majesty hath been… more like a dear father… than a master…. Should any faction or any affection to any point make me a traitor to your majesty, then all the devils in hell confound me, and the vengeance of God light upon me…. Yet our Lord, if it be his will, can do with me as he did with Susan, who was falsely accused…. Other hope than in God and your majesty I have not…. Amongst other things, most gracious sovereign, master comptroller shewed me that your grace shewed him that within these fourteen days ye committed a matter of great secresy, which I did reveal…. This I did…. I spake privily with her [the queen’s] lord chamberlain… desiring him… to find some mean that the queen might be induced to order your grace pleasantly in her behavior towards you…. If I have offended your majesty therein, prostrate at your[220] majesty’s feet I most lowly ask mercy and pardon of your highness…. Written with the quaking hand and most sorrowful heart of your most sorrowful subject and most humble servant and prisoner, this Saturday at your [Tower] of London.

‘Thomas Cromwell.'[345]

Cromwell was resigned to death; and the principal object of his concern was the fate of his son, his grandchildren, and likewise of his domestic servants. His son was in a good position, having married a sister of the queen Jane Seymour. ‘Sir, upon my knees,’ he said, ‘I most humbly beseech your gracious majesty to be good and gracious lord to my poor son, the good and virtuous woman his wife, and their poor children, and also to my servants. And this I desire of your grace for Christ’s sake.’ The unhappy father, returning to his own case, finished by saying, ‘Most gracious prince, mercy, mercy, mercy!'[346] Cromwell wrote twice in this manner; and the king was so much affected by the second of these letters that he ‘commanded it thrice to be read to him.'[347]

Would Cromwell then, after all, escape? Those who were ignorant of what was passing at court looked upon it as impossible that he should be sacrificed so long as Anne of Cleves was queen of England. But the very circumstances which seemed to them the guarantee of his safety were to be instead the occasion of his ruin.

Henry’s dislike to his wife was ever increasing, and he was determined to get rid of her. But, as usual, he concealed beneath flowers the weapon with which he was about to strike her. In the month of March, the king gave, in honor of the queen, a grand fête with a tournament, as he had done for Anne Boleyn; and amongst the numerous combatants, who took part in the jousting[221] were Sir Thomas Seymour, the earl of Sussex, Harry Howard, and Richard Cromwell, nephew of the earl of Essex, and ancestor of the great Protector Oliver.[348]

One circumstance contributed to hasten the decision of the king. There was at the court a young lady, small of stature, of a good figure and beautiful countenance, of ladylike manners, coquettish and forward, who at this time made a deep impression on Henry. This was Catherine Howard, a niece of the duke of Norfolk, now residing with her grandmother, the duchess-dowager, who allowed her great liberty. Katherine was in every respect a contrast to Anne of Cleves. Henry resolved to marry her, and for this purpose to get rid forthwith of his present wife. As he was desirous of being provisionally relieved of her presence, he persuaded her that a change of air would be very beneficial to her, and that it was necessary that she should make a stay in the country. On June 24 he sent the good princess, who felt grateful for his attentions, to Richmond. At the same time he despatched the bishop of Bath to her brother, the duke of Cleves, with a view to prepare him for the very unexpected decision which was impending over his sister, and to avert any vexatious consequences.[349]

Cromwell, then, had no aid to look for at the hands of a queen already forsaken and ere long repudiated. He could not hope to escape death. His enemies were urgent for the execution of the bill. They professed to have discovered a correspondence which he had carried on with the Protestant princes of Germany.[350]

Cromwell’s determination to offer no opposition to the king led him to commit serious mistakes, unworthy of a Christian. Nevertheless, according to documents still extant, he died like a Christian. He was not the first, nor the last, who in the presence of death, of capital pun[222]ishment, has examined himself, and confessed himself a sinner. While he spurned the accusations made by his enemies, he humbled himself before the weightier and more solemn accusations of his own conscience. How often had his own will been opposed to the commandments of the divine will! But at the same time he discovered in the Gospel the grace which he had but imperfectly known; and the doctrines which the Catholic church of the first ages had professed became dear to him.

On July 28, 1540, Cromwell was taken to Tower Hill, the place of execution. On reaching the scaffold he said: ‘I am come hither to die, and not to purge myself…. For since the time that I have had years of discretion, I have lived a sinner and offended my Lord God, for the which I ask Him heartily forgiveness. And it is not unknown to many of you that I have been a great travailler in this world, and being but of a base degree, was called to high estate; and since the time I came thereunto I have offended my prince, for the which I ask him heartily forgiveness, and beseech you all to pray to God with me, that he will forgive me. O Father, forgive me! O Son, forgive me! O Holy Ghost, forgive me! O Three Persons in one God, forgive me!… I die in the Catholic faith…. I heartily desire you to pray for the king’s grace, that he may long live with you in health and prosperity.’

By insisting in so marked a manner on the doctrine of the Trinity, professed in the fourth century by the councils of Nicaea and Constantinople, Cromwell doubtless intended to show that this was the Catholic doctrine in which he asserted that he died. But he did not omit to give evidence that his faith was that of the Scriptures.

After his confession, he knelt down, and at this solemn hour he uttered this Christian and fervent prayer:[351] ‘O Lord Jesu! which art the only health of all men living[223] and the everlasting life of them which die in thee, I, wretched sinner, do submit myself wholly unto thy most blessed will, and being sure that the thing can not perish which is committed unto thy mercy, willingly now I leave this frail and wicked flesh, in sure hope that thou wilt, in better wise, restore it to me again at the last day in the resurrection of the just. I beseech thee, most merciful Lord Jesus Christ! that thou wilt by thy grace make strong my soul against all temptations, and defend me with the buckler of thy mercy against all the assaults of the devil. I see and acknowledge that there is in myself no hope of salvation, but all my confidence, hope, and trust is in thy most merciful goodness. I have no merits nor good works which I may allege before thee. Of sins and evil works, alas! I see a great heap; but yet through thy mercy I trust to be in the number of them to whom thou wilt not impute their sins; but wilt take and accept me for righteous and just, and to be the inheritor of everlasting life. Thou, merciful Lord! wast born for my sake; thou didst suffer both hunger and thirst for my sake; thou didst teach, pray, and fast for my sake; all thy holy actions and works thou wroughtest for my sake; thou sufferedst most grievous pains and torments for my sake; finally, thou gavest thy most precious body and thy blood to be shed on the cross for my sake. Now, most merciful Saviour! let all these things profit me, that thou freely hast done for me, which hast given thyself also for me. Let thy blood cleanse and wash away the spots and foulness of my sins. Let thy righteousness hide and cover my unrighteousness. Let the merits of thy passion and blood-shedding be satisfaction for my sins. Give me, Lord! thy grace, that the faith of my salvation in thy blood waver not in me, but may ever be firm and constant; that the hope of thy mercy and life everlasting never decay in me: that love wax not cold in me. Finally, that the weakness of my flesh be not overcome with the fear of death. Grant me,[224] merciful Saviour! that when death hath shut up the eyes of my body, yet the eyes of my soul may still behold and look upon thee; and when death hath taken away the use of my tongue, yet my heart may cry and say unto thee, “Lord! into thy hands I commend my soul; Lord Jesu! receive my spirit!” Amen.'[352]

This is one of the most beautiful prayers handed down to us in Christian times.

Cromwell having finished his prayer and being now ready, a stroke of the axe severed his head from his body.

Thus died a man who, although he had risen from the lowliest to the loftiest estate, never allowed himself to be seduced by pride, nor made giddy by the pomps of the world, who continued attached to his old acquaintances, and was eager to honor the meanest who had rendered him any service; a man who powerfully contributed to the establishment of Protestantism in England,[353] although his enemies, unaware of the very different meanings of the words ‘Catholicism’ and ‘Popery,’ took pleasure in circulating the report in Europe, after his death, that he died a Roman Catholic; a man who for eight years governed his country, the king, the parliament, and convocation; who had the direction of all domestic as well as foreign affairs; who executed what he had advised, and who, in spite of the blots which he himself lamented, was one of the most intelligent, most active, and most influential of English ministers.[354] It is said that the king ere long regretted him. However this may be, he protected his son and gave him proofs of his favor, doubtless in remembrance of his father.

Another nobleman, Walter, Lord Hungerford, was be[225]headed at the same time with Cromwell, for having endeavored to ascertain, by ‘conjuring,’ how long the king would live.[355]



The Catholic party was triumphant. It had set aside the Protestant queen and sacrificed the Protestant minister; and it now proceeded to take measures of a less startling character, but which were a more direct attack on the very work of the Reformation. It thought proper to put to death some of those zealous men who were boldly preaching the pure Gospel, not only for the sake of getting rid of them, but even more for the purpose of terrifying those who were imitating them or who were willing to do so.

Of these men, Barnes, Garret, and Jerome were the most known. They were in prison; but Henry had hitherto scrupled about sacrificing men who preached a doctrine opposed to the pope. The party, moreover, united all their forces to bring about the fall of Cromwell, who had been confined within the same walls. After his death, the death of the preachers followed as a matter of course; it was merely the corollary; it was a natural consequence, and needed no special demonstration; the sentence, according to the Romish party, had only to be pronounced to be evidently justified. On these principles the king’s council and the parliament proceeded; and two days after the execution of Cromwell, these three evangelists, without any public hearing, without know[226]ing any cause of their condemnation, without receiving any communication whatsoever,[356] were taken out of prison, July 30, 1540, to be conducted to Smithfield, where they were to be deprived, not only of their ministry, but of their lives.

Henry, however, was not free from uneasiness. He had openly asserted that he leaned neither to one side nor to the other; that he weighed both parties in a just balance; and now, while he is boasting of his impartiality, every body persists in saying that he gives all the advantage to the papists. What is he to do in order to be just and impartial? Three papists must be found to be put to death at the same time with the evangelicals. Then nobody will venture to assert that the king does not hold the balance even. The measure shall be faultless and one of the glories of his reign. The three papists selected to be placed in the other scale bore the names of Abel, Powel, and Fetherstone. The first two were political pamphleteers who had supported the cause of Catherine of Aragon; and the third was, like them, an opponent of royal supremacy. It seems that in this matter the king also made allowance for the composition of his own council, which comprised both friends and enemies of the Reformation. Amongst the former were the archbishop of Canterbury, the duke of Suffolk, viscounts Beauchamp and Lisle, Russell, Paget, Sadler, and Audley. Amongst the latter were the bishops of Winchester and Durham, the duke of Norfolk, the earl of Southampton, Sir Antony Brown, Paulet, Baker, Richard, and Wingfield. There was therefore a majority of one against the Reformation, just enough to turn the scale. Henry, with a show of impartiality, assigned three victims to each of these parties. Preparations were made at the Tower for carrying out this equitable sentence. In the court-yard were three hurdles, of oblong shape, formed of branches of trees closely intertwined, on which the culprits were[227] to be drawn to the place of execution. Why three only, as there were six condemned? The reason was soon to be seen. When the three prisoners of each side were brought out, they proceeded to lay one evangelical on the first hurdle, and by his side a papist, binding them properly to each other to keep them in this strange coupling. The same process was gone through with the second and the third hurdles;[357] they then set out, and the six prisoners were drawn two and two to Smithfield. Thus, in every street through which the procession passed, Henry VIII. proclaimed by this strange spectacle that his government was impartial, and condemned alike the two classes of divines and of doctrines.

The three hurdles reached Smithfield. Two and two, the prisoners were unbound, and the three evangelicals were conducted to the stake. No trial having been allowed them by the court, these upright and pious men felt it their duty to supply its place at the foot of the scaffold. The day of their death thus became for them the day of hearing. The tribunal was sitting and the assembly was large. Barnes was the first speaker. He said: ‘I am come hither to be burned as a heretic…. God I take to record, I never (to my knowledge) taught any erroneous doctrine … and I neither moved nor gave occasion of any insurrection…. I believe in the Holy and Blessed Trinity; … and that this blessed Trinity sent down the second person, Jesus Christ, into the womb of the most blessed and purest Virgin Mary…. I believe that through his death he overcame sin, death and hell; and that there is none other satisfaction to the Father, but this his death and passion only.’ At these words Barnes, deeply moved, raised his hands to heaven, and prayed God to forgive him his sins. This profession of faith did not satisfy the sheriff. Then some one asked him what he thought of praying to[228] the saints. ‘I believe,’ answered Barnes, ‘that they are worthy of all the honor that Scripture willeth them to have. But, I say, throughout all Scripture we are not commanded to pray to any saints…. If saints do pray for us, then I trust to pray for you within the next half-hour.’ He was silent, and the sheriff said to him: ‘Well, have you any thing more to say?’ He answered: ‘Have ye any articles against me for the which I am condemned?’ The sheriff answered: ‘No.’ Barnes then put the question to the people whether any knew wherefore he died. No one answered. Then he resumed: ‘They that have been the occasion of it I pray God forgive them, as I would be forgiven myself. And Doctor Stephen, bishop of Winchester that now is, if he have sought or wrought this my death, either by word or deed, I pray God forgive him…. I pray that God may give [the king] prosperity, and that he may long reign among you; and after him that godly prince Edward may so reign that he may finish those things that his father hath begun.'[358] Then collecting himself, Barnes addressed three requests to the sheriff, the prayer of a dying man. The first was that the king might employ the wealth of the abbeys which had been poured into the treasury in relieving his poor subjects who were in great need of it. The second was that marriage might be respected, and that men might not live in uncleanness. The third, that the name of God might not be taken in vain in abominable oaths. These prayers of a dying man, who was sent to the scaffold by Henry himself, ought to have produced some impression on the heart of the king. Jerome and Garret likewise addressed affecting exhortations to the people. After this, these three Christians uttered together their last prayer, shook hands with and embraced each other, and then meekly gave themselves up to the executioner. They were bound to the same stake, and breathed their last in patience and in faith.


On the same day, at the same hour, and at the same place where the three friends of the Gospel were burnt, the three followers of the pope, Abel, Fetherstone, and Powel were hung. A foreigner who was present exclaimed: ‘Deus bone! quomodo hic vivunt gentes? Hic suspenduntur papistæ, illic comburuntur antipapistæ.’ The simple-minded and ignorant asked what kind of religion people should have in England, seeing that both Romanism and Protestantism led to death. A courtier exclaimed: ‘Verily, henceforth I will be of the king’s religion, that is to say, of none at all!'[359]

Cromwell and these six men were not to be the only objects of the king’s displeasure. Even before they had undergone their sentence, the king had caused his divorce to be pronounced. In marrying Anne of Cleves, his chief object had been to form an alliance with the Protestants against the emperor. Now these two opponents were by this time reconciled with each other. Henry, therefore, deeply irritated, no longer hesitated to rid himself of the new queen. He was influenced, moreover, by another motive. He was smitten with the charms of another woman. However, as he dreaded the raillery, the censures, and even the calamities which the divorce might bring upon him, he was anxious not to appear as the originator of it, and should the accusation be made, to be able to repel it as a foul imposture without shadow of reality. He resolved, therefore, to adopt such a course that this strange proceeding should seem to have been imposed upon him. This intention he hinted to one of the lords in whom he had full confidence; and the latter made some communications about it, on July 3, to the Privy Council. On the 6th his majesty’s ministers pointed out to the upper house the propriety of their humbly requesting the king, in conjunction with the lower house, that the convocation of[230] the clergy might examine into his marriage with Anne of Cleves, and see whether it were valid. The lords adopted the proposal; and a commission consisting of the lord chancellor, the archbishop of Canterbury, and the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, presented it to the commons, who gave their assent to it. Consequently the whole House of Lords and a commission of twenty members of the lower house appeared before the king, and stated that the matter about which they had to confer with him was of such an important character that they must first request his permission to lay it before them. Henry, feigning utter ignorance of what they meant, commanded them to speak. They then said,—’We humbly pray your majesty to allow the validity of your marriage to be investigated by the convocation of the clergy; we attach all the more importance to this proceeding because the question bears upon the succession to the throne of your majesty.’ It was well known that the king did not love Anne, and that he was even in love with another.[360] This is a striking instance of the degree of meanness to which Henry VIII. had reduced his parliament; for an assembly, even if some mean souls are to be found in it, undertakes not to be despicable, and what is noblest in it usually comes to the surface. But if the shameful compliances of the parliament astonish us, the audacious hypocrisy of Henry VIII. surprises us still more. He stood up to answer as if in the presence of the Deity; and concealing his real motives he said,—’There is nothing in the world more dear to me than the glory of God, the good of England, and the declaration of the truth.’ All the actors in this comedy played their parts to perfection.[361] The king immediately sent[231] to Richmond some of his councillors, amongst them Suffolk and Gardiner, to communicate to the queen the demand of the parliament and to ascertain her opinion with respect to it. After many long conferences, Anne gave her consent to the proposal.[362]

The next day, July 7, the matter was brought before Convocation by Gardiner, bishop of Winchester, who was very anxious to see a Roman Catholic queen upon the throne of England. A committee was nominated for the purpose of examining the witnesses; and of this committee the bishop was a member. An autograph declaration of the king was produced, in which he dwelt strongly on the fact that he took such a dislike to Anne as soon as he saw her that he thought instantly of breaking off the match; that he never inwardly consented to the marriage, and that in fact it had never been consummated.[363] Within two days all the witnesses were heard. Henry was impatient; and the Roman party urgently appealed to the assembly to deliver a judgment which would rid England of a Protestant queen. Cranmer, out of fear or feebleness (he had just seen Cromwell lose his head), went with the rest of them. In his view the will of Henry VIII. was almost what destiny was for the ancients—

—— Des arrêts du destin l’ordre est invariable.——

On July 9, Convocation, relying upon the two reasons given by the king, and upon the fact that there was something ambiguous in Anne’s engagement with the son of the duke of Lorraine, decided that his majesty ‘was at liberty to contract another marriage for the good of the realm.'[364] None of these reasons had any valid[232]ity.[365] Nor did Henry escape the condemnation and the raillery which he had so much feared. ‘It appears,’ said Francis I., ‘that over there they are pleased to do with their women as with their geldings,—bring a number of them together and make them trot, and then take the one which goes easiest.'[366]

The archbishop of Canterbury on July 10 reported to the House of Lords that Convocation had declared the marriage null and void by virtue both of the law of God and of the law of England. The bishop of Winchester read the judgment and explained at length the grounds of it, and the house declared itself satisfied. The archbishop and the bishop made the same report to the Commons. On the following day—Henry did not intend that any time should be lost—the lord chancellor, the duke of Norfolk, the earl of Southampton, and the bishop of Winchester betook themselves to Richmond, whither the innocent queen had been sent for change of air, and informed her, on the king’s behalf, of the proceedings of parliament and of Convocation. Anne was distressed by the communication. She had supposed that the clergy would acknowledge, as it was their duty to do, the validity of her marriage. However it may be, so sharp was the stroke that she fainted away.[367] The necessary care was bestowed on her, and she recovered, and gradually reconciled herself to the thought of submission to Henry’s will. The delegates told her that the king, while requiring her to renounce the title of queen, conferred on her that of his adopted sister, and gave her precedence in rank of all the ladies of the court, immediately after the queen and the daughters of the king.[233] Anne was modest; she did not think highly of herself, and had often felt that she was not made to be queen of England. She therefore submitted, and the same day, July 11, wrote to the king,—’Though this case must needs be most hard and sorrowful unto me, for the great love which I bear to your most noble person, yet having more regard to God and his truth than to any worldly affection, as it beseemed me … I knowledge myself hereby to accept and approve the same [determination of the clergy] wholly and entirely putting myself, for my state and condition, to your highness’s goodness and pleasure; most humbly beseeching your majesty … to take me for one of your most humble servants.’ She subscribed herself ‘Your majesty’s most humble sister and servant, Anne, daughter the Cleves.'[368]

The king sent word to her that he conferred on her a pension of three thousand pounds, and the palace at Richmond. Anne wrote to him again, July 16, to thank him for his great kindness, and at the same time sent him her ring.[369] She preferred—and herein she showed some pride—to remain in England, rather than to go home after such a disgrace had fallen upon her. ‘I account God pleased,’ she wrote to her brother, ‘with what is done, and know myself to have suffered no wrong or injury…. I find the king’s highness … to be as a most kind, loving and friendly father and brother…. I am so well content and satisfied that I much desire my mother, you, and other mine allies so to understand it, accept and take it.'[370] Seldom has a woman carried self-renunciation to such a length.




Who should take the place of the repudiated queen? This was the question discussed at court and in the town. The Anglican Catholics, delighted at the dismissal of the Protestant queen, were determined to do all they possibly could to place on the throne a woman of their own party. Such a one was already found. The bishop of Winchester, for some time past, had frequently been holding feasts and entertainments for the king. To these he invited a young lady, who though of small stature was of elegant carriage, and had handsome features and a graceful figure and manners.[371] She was a daughter of Lord Edmund Howard, and niece of the duke of Norfolk, the leader of the Catholic party. She had very soon attracted the attention of the king, who took increasing pleasure in her society. This occurred before the divorce of Anne. ‘It is a certain fact,’ says a contemporary, ‘that about the same time many citizens of London saw the king very frequently in the daytime, and sometimes at midnight, pass over to her on the river Thames in a little boat…. The citizens regarded all this not as a sign of divorcing the queen, but of adultery.'[372] Whether this supposition was well founded or not we can not say. The king, when once he had decided on a separation from Anne of Cleves, had thought of her successor. He was quite determined, after his mischance, to be guided[235] neither by his ministers, nor by his ambassadors, nor by political considerations, but solely by his own eyes, his own tastes, and the happiness he might hope for. Catherine pleased him very much; and his union with Anne was no sooner annulled than he proceeded to his fifth marriage. The nuptials were celebrated on the 8th of August, eleven days after the execution of Cromwell; and on the same day Catherine was presented at court as queen. The king was charmed with Catherine Howard, his pretty young wife; she was so amiable, her intercourse was so pleasant, that he believed he had, after so many more or less unfortunate attempts, found his ideal at last. Her virtuous sentiments, the good behavior which she resolved to maintain, filled him with delight; and he was ever expressing his happiness in ‘having obtained such a jewel of womanhood.'[373] He had no foreboding of the terrible blow which was soon to shatter all this happiness.

The new queen was distinguished from the former chiefly by the difference in religion, with a corresponding difference in morality. The niece of the duke of Norfolk, Gardiner’s friend, was of course an adherent of the Catholic faith; and the Catholic party hailed her as at once the symbol and the instrument of reaction. They had had plenty of Protestant queens, Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour, and Anne of Cleves. Now that they had a Catholic queen, Catholicism—many said popery—would recover its power. Henry was so much enamored of his new spouse that, in honor of her, he once more became a fervent Catholic. He celebrated all the Saints’ days, frequently received the holy sacrament, and offered publicly thanksgiving to God for this happy union which he hoped to enjoy for a long time.[374] The conversion of[236] Henry, for the change was nothing less, brought with it a change of policy. He now abandoned France and the German Protestants in order to ally himself with the empire; and we find him ere long busily engaged in a project for the marriage of his daughter Mary to the emperor Charles V. This project, however, came to nothing.[375] Gardiner, Norfolk, and the other leaders of the Catholic party, rejoicing in the breeze which bore their vessel onward, set all sails to the wind. Just after the divorce of Anne of Cleves, and by way of a first boon to the Romish party, the penalties for impure living imposed on priests and nuns were mitigated.[376] In contempt of the authority of Holy Scripture as well as of that of parliament itself, Henry got an Act passed by virtue of which every determination concerning faith, worship, and ceremonies, adopted with the sanction of the king by a commission of archbishops, bishops, and other ecclesiastics nominated by him, was to be received, believed, and observed by the whole nation, just as if parliament had approved every one of these articles, even if this decree were contrary to former usages and ordinances.[377] This was a proclamation of infallibility in England for the benefit of the pope-king, under cover of which he might found a religion to his own taste. Cranmer had established in all cathedral churches professors entrusted with the teaching of Hebrew and Greek, in order that students might become well acquainted with sacred literature, and that the church might never want ministers capable of edifying it. But the enemies of the Reformation, who now enjoyed royal favor, fettered or abolished this institution and other similar ones, to the great damage both of religion and the country.[378] The[237] Catholic ceremonies, on the other hand, abrogated by Cranmer and Cromwell—the consecration of bread and of water, the embers with which the priest marked the foreheads of the faithful, the palm branches blessed on Palm Sunday, the tapers carried at Candlemas, and other like customs—were re-established; and penalties were imposed on those who should neglect them.[379] A new edition of the ‘Institution of a Christian Man’ explained to the people the king’s doctrine. It treated of the seven sacraments, the mass, transubstantiation, the salutation of the Virgin, and other doctrines of the kind to which conformity was required.[380] At length, as if with a view to ensure the permanence of this system, Bonner was made bishop of London; and this man, who had been the most abject flatterer and servant of Cromwell during his life, turned about after his death and became the persecutor of those whom Cromwell had protected.

At the spectacle of this reaction, so marvellous in their eyes, the Anglican Catholics and even the papists broke out with joy, and awaited with impatience ‘the crowning of the edifice.’ England, in their view, was saved. The church was triumphant. But while there was rejoicing on the one side, there was mourning on the other. The establishment of superstitious practices, the prospect of the penalties contained in the bloody statute of the Six Articles, penalties which had not yet been enforced but were on the point of being so, spread distress and alarm among the evangelicals. Those who did not add to their faith manly energy shut up their convictions in their own breasts, carefully abstained from conversation on religious subjects, and looked with suspicion upon every stranger, fearing that he might be one of Gardiner’s spies.

Bonner was active and eager, going forward in pursuit of his object and allowing nothing to check him. Crom[238]well and Cranmer, to whom he used to make fair professions, believed that he was capable of being of service to the Reformation, and therefore gave him promotion in ecclesiastical offices. But no sooner had Cromwell been put in prison than his signal deceitfulness showed itself. Grafton, who printed the Bible under the patronage of the vicegerent, having met Bonner, to whom Cromwell had introduced him, exclaimed, ‘How grieved I am to hear that Lord Cromwell has been sent to the Tower!’ ‘It would have been much better,’ replied Bonner, ‘if he had been sent there long ago.’ Shortly after, Grafton was cited before the council, and was accused of having printed, by Cromwell’s order, certain suspected verses; and Bonner, for the purpose of aggravating his criminality, did not fail to report what the accused had said to him about the man who had been his own personal benefactor. The chancellor, however, a friend of Grafton, succeeded in saving the printer of the Bible. Bonner indemnified himself for this disappointment by persecuting a great many citizens of London. He vented his rage especially on a poor youth of fifteen, ignorant and uncultivated, named Mekins, whom he accused of having spoken against the Eucharist and in favor of Barnes; but the grand jury found him ‘not guilty.’ Hereupon Bonner became furious. ‘You are perjured,’ he said to the jury. ‘The witnesses do not agree,’ they replied. The one deposed that Mekins had said the sacrament was nothing but a ‘ceremony’; and the other that it was nothing but a ‘signification.’ ‘But did he not say,’ exclaimed the bishop, ‘that Barnes died holy?’ ‘But we can not find these words,’ said the jury, ‘to be against the statute.’ ‘Upon which Bonner cursed and was in a great rage.'[381] ‘Retire again,’ he said, ‘consult together, and bring in the bill.’ Mekins was condemned to die. In vain was it shown that he was a poor ignorant creature and that he had done nothing worse than repeat what he had[239] heard, and this without even understanding it. In vain, too, did his father and mother, who were in great distress, attempt to mitigate the harsh treatment to which he was subjected in prison. The poor lad was ready to say or do any thing to escape being burnt. They made him speak well of Bonner and of his ‘great charity towards him’; they made him declare that he hated all heretics, and then they burnt him.[382] This was only the beginning and Bonner hoped by such proceedings to prepare the way for greater triumphs.

The persecution became more general. Two hundred and two persons were prosecuted in thirty-nine London parishes. Their offences were such as the following—having read the Holy Scriptures aloud in the churches; having refused to carry palm branches on Palm Sunday; having had one or other of their kinsfolk buried without the masses for the dead; having received Latimer, Barnes, Garret, or other evangelicals; having held religious meetings in their houses of an evening; having said that the holy sacrament was a good thing, but was not, as some asserted, God himself; having spoken much about the Holy Scriptures; having declared that they liked better to hear a sermon than a mass; and other the like offences. Among the delinquents were some of the priests. One of these was accused of having caused suspected persons to be invited to his sermons by his beadle, without having the bells rung; another of having preached without the orders of his superior; others, of not making use of holy water, of not going in procession, &c.[383]

The Inquisition which was made at this time was so rigorous that all the prisons of London would not hold the accused. They had to place some of them in the halls of various buildings. The case was embarrassing. The Catholics of the court were not alone in instigating the[240] king to persecution. Francis I. sent word to him by Wallop, ‘that it had well liked him to hear that his majesty was reforming the Lutheran sect, for that he was ever of opinion that no good could come of them but much evil.'[384] But there were other influences at court besides that of Francis I., Norfolk, and Gardiner. Lord Audley obtained the king’s sanction for the release of the prisoners, who, however, had to give their promise to appear at the Star Chamber on All Souls’ Day. Ultimately they were let alone.

But this does not mean that all the evangelicals were spared. Two ministers were at this time distinguished both for their high connections and for their faith and eloquence. One of these was the Scotchman, Seaton, chaplain to the duke of Suffolk. Preaching powerfully at St. Antholin’s church, in London, he said,—'”Of ourselves we can do nothing,” says St. Paul; “I pray thee, then, where is thy will? Art thou better than Paul, James, Peter, and all the apostles?” Hast thou any more grace than they? Tell me now if they will be any thing or nothing?… Paul said he could do nothing…. If you ask me when we will leave preaching only Christ, even when they do leave to preach that works do merit, and suffer Christ to be a whole satisfier and only mean to our justification.’ Seaton was condemned to bear a faggot at Paul’s Cross.[385] Another minister, Dr. Crome, was a learned man and a favorite of the archbishop. This did not prevent the king from commanding him to preach that the sacrifice of the mass is useful both for the living and the dead. Crome preached the Gospel in its simplicity at St. Paul’s on the appointed day, and contented himself with reading the king’s order after the sermon. He was immediately forbidden to preach.[386]


Laymen were treated with greater severity. Bibles, it is known, had been placed in all the churches, and were fastened by chains to the pillars. A crowd of people used to gather about one of these pillars. On one occasion a young man of fine figure, possessed of great zeal, and gifted with a powerful voice, stood near the pillar holding the Bible in his hands, and reading it aloud so that all might hear him. His name was Porter. Bonner sharply rebuked him. ‘I trust I have done nothing against the law,’ said Porter; and this was true. But the bishop committed him to Newgate. There this young Christian was put in irons; his legs, his arms, and his head were attached to the wall by means of an iron collar. One of his kinsmen, by a gift of money, induced the jailer to deliver him from this punishment; and the favor they accorded him was to place him in the company of thieves and murderers. Porter exhorted them to repent, and taught them the way of salvation. The unhappy man was then cast into the deepest dungeon, was cruelly treated, and loaded with irons. Eight days afterwards he died. Cries and groans had been heard in the night. Some said that he had been subjected to the torture called the devil, a horrible instrument by which, in three or four hours, the back and the whole body were torn in pieces.[387]

Meanwhile, a far more formidable blow was preparing. Cromwell, the lay protector of the Reformation, had already been sacrificed; its ecclesiastical protector, Cranmer, must now fall in the same way. This second blow seemed easier than the first. Since the fall of Cromwell, men of the utmost moderation thought ‘there was no hope that reformed religion should any one week longer stand.'[388] All those of feeble character sided with the opposite party. Cranmer alone, amongst the bishops and the ecclesiastical commissioners of the king, still upheld evangelical truth. This obstacle in the way of the[242] extension of English Catholicism must be utterly overthrown. A commission of from ten to twelve bishops and other competent men was formed to deliberate as to the means of inducing the primate to make common cause with them. Two bishops, Heath and Skyp, who enjoyed his confidence, ‘left him in the plain field.'[389] All these bishops and laymen, proud of their victory, met at Lambeth palace, the abode of Cranmer, in order to prosecute their scheme. After a few words exchanged to no purpose, the two last-named bishops begged the archbishop to go down with them into the garden, and there, as they paced up and down the paths, they plied him with such reasons as they thought most urgent to induce him ‘to leave off his overmuch constancy and to incline unto the king’s intent.’ One or two friends of the primate joined them, and they made use of all the resources of their eloquence and their policy for the purpose of shaking his resolution. But Cranmer was like the river which flowed quietly past his dwelling, which nothing can turn from its course. He even took the offensive. ‘You make much ado to have me come to your purpose,’ said he; … ‘beware, I say, what you do. There is but one truth in our articles to be concluded upon, which if you do hide from his highness … and then when the truth can not be hidden from him, his highness shall perceive how that you have dealt colorably with him … he will never after trust and credit you…. As you are both my friends, so therefore I will you to beware thereof in time, and discharge your consciences in maintenance of the truth.'[390]

This was far from pacifying the bishops. Doctor London and other agents of the party which looked up to Gardiner as its head, took in hand to go over the diocese of the archbishop with a view to collecting all the sayings and all the facts, true or false, which they might turn to account as weapons against him. In one place[243] a conversation was reported to them; in another a sermon was denounced; elsewhere neglected ritual was talked about. ‘Three of the preachers of the cathedral church,’ they were told, namely, Ridley, Drum and Scory, ‘are attacking the ceremonies of the church.’ Some of the canons, opponents of the primate, brought various charges against him, and strove to depict his marriage in the most repulsive colors. Sir John Gostwick, whose accounts as treasurer of war and of the court were not correct, accused Cranmer before the parliament of being the pastor of heretics. All these grievances were set forth in a memorial which was presented to the king. At the same time, the most influential members of the privy council declared to the king that the realm was infested with heresies; that thereby ‘horrible commotions and uproars’ might spring up, as had been the case in Germany; and that these calamities must be chiefly imputed to the archbishop of Canterbury, who both by his own preaching and that of his chaplains had filled England with pernicious doctrines. ‘Who is his accuser?’ said the king. The lords replied: ‘Forasmuch as Cranmer is a councillor, no man durst take upon him to accuse him. But if it please your highness to commit him to the Tower for a time, there would be accusations and proofs enough against him.’ ‘Well then,’ said the king, ‘I grant you leave to commit him to-morrow to the Tower for his trial.’ The enemies of the archbishop and of the Reformation went away well content.[391]

Meanwhile, Henry VIII. began to reflect on the answer which he had given to his councillors. There is nothing to show that it was not made in earnest; but he foresaw that Cranmer’s death would leave an awkward void. When Cranmer was gone, how should he maintain the conflict with the pope and the papists, with whom he[244] had no mind to be reconciled? The primate’s character and services came back to his memory. Time was passing. At midnight the king, unable to sleep, sent for Sir Antony Denny and said to him, ‘Go to Lambeth and command the archbishop to come forthwith to the court.’ Henry then in a state of excitement, began to walk about in one of the corridors of the palace, awaiting the arrival of Cranmer. At length the primate entered and the king said to him: ‘Ah, my lord of Canterbury, I can tell you news…. It is determined by me and the council, that you to-morrow at nine o’clock shall be committed to the Tower, for that you and your chaplains (as information is given us) have taught and preached, and thereby sown within the realm such a number of execrable heresies, that it is feared the whole realm being infected with them no small contentions and commotions will rise thereby amongst my subjects, … and therefore the council have requested me, for the trial of this matter, to suffer them to commit you to the Tower.’

The story of Cromwell was to be repeated, and this was the first step. Nevertheless, Cranmer did not utter a word of opposition or supplication. Kneeling down before the king, according to his custom, he said: ‘I am content, if it please your grace, with all my heart to go thither at your highness’s commandment, and I most humbly thank your majesty that I may come to my trial, for there be that have many ways slandered me, and now this way I hope to try myself not worthy of such a report.’ The king, touched by his uprightness, said: ‘Oh Lord, what manner of man be you! What simplicity is in you!… Do you not know… how many great enemies you have? Do you consider what an easy thing it is to procure three or four false knaves to witness against you? Think you to have better luck that way than Christ your master had? I see it, you will run headlong to your undoing, if I would suffer you. Your enemies shall not so prevail against you, for I have other[245]wise devised with myself to keep you out of their hands. Yet, notwithstanding, to-morrow when the council shall sit and send for you, resort unto them; and if in charging you with this matter they do commit you to the Tower, require of them… that you may have your accusers brought before them and that you may answer their accusations…. If no entreaty or reasonable request will serve, then deliver unto them this ring’—the king at the same time delivered his ring to the archbishop—’and say unto them: If there be no remedy, my lords, but that I must needs go to the Tower, then I revoke my cause from you and appeal to the king’s own person by this his token to you all. So soon as they shall see this my ring, they know it so well, that they shall understand that I have resumed the whole cause into mine own hands.’ The archbishop was so much moved by the king’s kindness that he ‘had much ado to forbear tears.’ ‘Well,’ said the king, ‘go your ways, my lord, and do as I have bidden you.'[392] The archbishop bent his knee in expression of his gratitude, and taking leave of the king returned to Lambeth before day.

On the morrow, about nine o’clock, the council sent an usher of the palace to summon the archbishop. He set out forthwith and presented himself at the door of the council chamber. But his colleagues, glad to complete the work which they had begun by putting the vicegerent to death, were not content with sending the primate to the scaffold; but were determined to subject Cranmer to various humiliations before the final catastrophe. The archbishop could not be let in, but was compelled to wait there among the pages, lackeys, and other serving-men. Doctor Butts, the king’s physician, happening to pass through the room, and observing how the archbishop was treated, went to the king and said: ‘My lord of Canterbury, if it please your grace, is well[246] promoted; for now he is become a lackey or a serving-man, for yonder he standeth this half hour without the council-chamber door amongst them.’ ‘It is not so,’ said the king, ‘I trow, nor the council hath not so little discretion as to use the metropolitan of the realm in that sort, especially being one of their own number; but let them alone, and we shall hear more soon.’

At length the archbishop was admitted. He did as the king had bidden him: and when he saw that none of his statements or reasons were of any avail with the council, he presented the king’s ring, appealing at the same time to his Majesty. Hereupon, the whole council was struck with astonishment;[393] and the earl of Bedford, who was not one of Gardiner’s party, with a solemn oath exclaimed: ‘When you first began this matter, my lords, I told you what would come of it. Do you think that the king will suffer this man’s finger to ache? Much more, I warrant you, will he defend his life against brabbling varlets. You do but cumber yourselves to hear tales and fables against him.’ The members of the council immediately rose and carried the king’s ring to him, thus surrendering the matter, according to the usage of the time, into his hands.

When they had all come into the presence of the king, he said to them with a severe countenance: ‘Ah, my lords, I thought I had had wiser men of my council than now I find you. What discretion was this in you, thus to make the primate of the realm, and one of you in office, to wait at the council-chamber door amongst serving men?… You had no such commission of me so to handle him. I was content that you should try him as a councillor, and not as a mean subject. But now I well perceive that things be done against him maliciously; and if some of you might have had your minds, you would have tried him to the uttermost. But I do[247] you all to wit, and protest, that if a prince may be beholding unto his subject’ (and here Henry laid his hand solemnly upon his breast), ‘by the faith I owe to God, I take this man here, my lord of Canterbury, to be of all other a most faithful subject unto us, and one to whom we are much beholding.’ The Catholic members of the council were disconcerted, confused, and unable to make any answer. One or two of them, however, took courage, made excuses, and assured the king that their object in trying the primate was to clear him of the calumnies of the world, and not to proceed against him maliciously. The king, who was not to be imposed upon by these hypocritical assertions, said: ‘Well, well, my lords, take him and well use him, as he is worthy to be, and make no more ado.’ All the lords then went up to Cranmer, and took him by the hand as if they had been his dearest friends. The archbishop, who was of a conciliatory disposition, forgave them. But the king sent to prison for a certain time some of the archbishop’s accusers; and he sent a message to Sir J. Gostwick, to the effect that he was a wicked varlet, and that unless he made his apologies to the metropolitan, he would make of him an example which should be a warning to all false accusers. These facts are creditable to Henry VIII. It was doubtless his aim to keep a certain middle course; and like many other despots he had happy intervals. There were other evidences of this fact. Four great Bibles appeared with his sanction in 1541; two of them bearing the name of Tonstall, the other two that of Cranmer.[394] Moreover, a sudden change was approaching which was to alter the whole course of things.

At the end of August, 1541, Henry went to York,[395] for the purpose of holding an interview with his nephew, the king of Scotland, whom he was anxious to persuade to[248] declare himself independent of the pope. Henry made magnificent preparations for his reception; but Cardinal Beatoun prevented the young prince from going. This excited the bitterest discontent in Henry’s mind, and became afterwards the cause of a breach. The queen, who accompanied him, endeavored to divert him from his vexation; and the king, more and more pleased with his marriage, after his return to London, made public thanksgiving on All Saints’ Day (October 24), that God had given him so amiable and excellent a wife, and even requested the bishop of Lincoln to join in his commendations of her. This excessive satisfaction was ere long to be interrupted.[396]

During the king’s journey, one John Lascelles, who had a married sister living in the county of Sussex, paid her a visit. This woman had formerly been in the service of the old duchess of Norfolk, grandmother to the queen, and by whom Catherine had been brought up. In the course of conversation the brother and sister talked about this young lady, whom the sister had known well, and who had now become wife to the king. The brother, ambitious for his sister’s advancement, said to her: ‘You ought to ask the queen to place you among her attendants.’ ‘I shall certainly not do so,’ she answered; ‘I can not think of the queen but with sadness.’ ‘Why?’ ‘She is so frivolous in character and in life.’ ‘How so?’ Then the woman related that Catherine had had improper intercourse with one of the officers of the ducal house of Norfolk, named Francis Derham; and that she had been very familiar with another whose name was Mannock. Lascelles perceived the importance of these statements; and as he could not take upon himself the responsibility of concealing them, he determined to report them to the archbishop. The communication greatly embarrassed Cranmer. If he should keep the matter secret and it should afterwards become known, he would[249] be ruined. Nor would he less certainly be ruined if he should divulge it, and then no proof be forthcoming. But what chiefly weighed upon his mind was the thought of the agitation which would be excited. To think of another wife of the king executed at the Tower! To think of his prince, his country, and perhaps also the work which was in process of accomplishment in England, becoming the objects of ridicule and perhaps of abhorrence! As he was unwilling to assume alone the responsibility imposed by so grave a communication, he opened his mind on the subject to the lord chancellor and to other members of the privy council, to whom the king had entrusted the despatch of business during his absence. ‘They were greatly troubled and inquieted.'[397] After having well weighed the reasons for and against, they came to the conclusion that, as this matter mainly concerned the king, Cranmer should inform him of it. This was a hard task to undertake; and the archbishop, who was deeply affected, durst not venture to make viva voce so frightful a communication. He therefore put down in writing the report which had been made to him, and had it laid before the king. The latter was terribly shocked; but as he tenderly loved his wife and had a high opinion of her virtue, he said that it was a calumny. However, he privately assembled in his cabinet the lord privy seal, the lord admiral, Sir Antony Brown, and Sir Thomas Wriothesley, a friend of the duke of Norfolk, who had taken a leading part in the divorce of Anne of Cleves, and laid the case before them, declaring at the same time that he did not believe in it. These lords privately examined Lascelles and his sister, who persisted in their depositions; next Mannock and Derham, who asserted the truth of their statements; the latter, moreover, mentioning three of the duchess of Norfolk’s women who likewise had knowledge of the facts. The members of the council made their report to the king,[250] who, pierced with grief, remained silent for some time. At length he burst into tears, and commanded the duke of Norfolk, the queen’s uncle, the archbishop of Canterbury, the high chamberlain, and the bishop of Winchester, who had promoted the marriage, to go to Catherine and examine her. At first she denied every thing. But when Cranmer was sent to her, on the evening of the first inquisition, the words of the primate, his admonitions, the reports which he made to her, which proved that her conduct was perfectly well known, convinced her of the uselessness of her denials, and she then made full confession, and even added some strange details. It does not appear that the queen felt it her duty to confess her offences to God, but she resolved at least to confess them to men. While making her confession she was in a state of so great agitation that the archbishop was in dread every moment of her losing her reason. He thought, according to her confessions, that she had been seduced by the infamous Derham, with the privity even of his own wife. The household of the duchess-dowager of Norfolk appears to have been very disorderly. Cranmer wrote down or caused to be written this confession, and Catherine signed it.[398] He had scarcely left the unhappy woman, when she fell into a state of raving delirium.

The king was thrown into great excitement by the news of Catherine’s confession of the reality of his misfortune. The very intensity of his love served to increase his trouble and his wrath; but, for all this, some feeling of pity remained in his heart. ‘Return to her,’ he said to Cranmer, ‘and first make use of the strongest expressions to give her a sense of the greatness of her offences; secondly, state to her what the law provides in such cases, and what she must suffer for her crime; and lastly express to her my feelings of pity and forgiveness.’ Cranmer returned to Catherine and found her in a fit of pas[251]sion so violent that he never remembered—so he wrote to the king—seeing any creature in such a state. The keepers told him that this vehement rage had continued from his departure from her.[399] ‘It would have pitied,’ said the good archbishop, ‘any man’s heart in the world to have looked upon her.’ Indeed, she was almost in a frenzy; she was not without strength, but her strength was that of a frantic person. The archbishop had had too much experience in the cure of souls, to adopt the order prescribed by the king. He saw that if he spoke first to her of the crime and its punishment, he might throw her into some dangerous ecstasy, from which she could not be rescued. He therefore began with the last part of the royal message, and told the queen that his majesty’s mercy extended to her, and that he had compassion on her misfortune. Catherine hereupon lifted up her hands, became quiet, and gave utterance to the humblest thanksgivings to the king who showed her so much mercy. She became more self-possessed; continuing, however, to sob and weep. But ‘after a little pausing, she suddenly fell into a new rage, much worse than she was before.'[400]

Cranmer, desirous of delivering her from this frightful delirium, said to her: ‘Some new fantasy has come into your head, madam; pray open it to me.’ After a time, when her passion subsided and she was capable of speech, she wept freely and said: ‘Alas, my lord, that I am alive! The fear of death grieved me not so much before, as doth now the remembrance of the king’s goodness. For when I remember how gracious and loving a prince I had, I can not but sorrow; but this sudden mercy, and more than I could have looked for, showed unto me so unworthy at this time, maketh mine offences to appear before mine eyes much more heinous than they did before; and the more I consider the greatness of his[252] mercy, the more I do sorrow in my heart that I should so misorder myself against his majesty.’ The fact that the compassion of the king touched Catherine more than the fear of a trial and of death, seemed to indicate a state of mind less wayward than one might have expected. But in vain Cranmer said to her every thing calculated to pacify her; she remained for a long time ‘in a great pang;’ and even fell soon into another frightful passion. At length, in the afternoon she came gradually to herself, and was in a quiet state till night. Cranmer, during this interval of relief, had ‘good communications with her.’ He rejoiced at having brought her into some quiet. She told him that there had been a marriage contract between her and Derham, only verbal indeed, she said; but that nevertheless, though never announced and acknowledged, it had been consummated. She added that she had acted under compulsion of that man.[401] At six o’clock, she had another fit of frenzy. ‘Ah,’ she said afterwards to Cranmer, ‘when the clock struck, I remembered the time when Master Heneage was wont to bring me knowledge of his Grace.’ In consequence of Cranmer’s report, Henry commanded that the queen should be conducted to Sion House, where two apartments were to be assigned to her and attendants nominated by the king.[402]

Charges against Catherine were accumulating. She had taken into her service, as queen, the wretched Derham and, employing him as secretary, had often admitted him into her private apartments; and this the council regarded as evidence of adultery.[403] She had also again attached to herself one of the women implicated in her first irregularities. At length it was proved that another gentleman, one Culpeper, a kinsman of her mother, had been introduced, in the king’s absence on a journey, into[253] the queen’s private apartments by Lady Rochford, at a suspicious hour and under circumstances which usually indicate crime. Culpeper confessed it.

Now began the condemnations and the executions; and Henry VIII. included in the trial not only those who were guilty but also the near relatives and servants of the queen, who, though well knowing her offences, had not reported them to the king. On the 7th, the council determined that the duchess-dowager of Norfolk, grandmother to the queen, her uncle, Lord William Howard, her aunts Lady Howard and Lady Bridgewater, together with Alice Wilks, Catherine Tylney, Damport, Walgrave, Malin Tilney, Mary Lascelles, Bulmer, Ashby, Anne Haward and Margaret Benet were all guilty of not having revealed the crime of high treason, and that they should be prosecuted. On the 8th the king ordered that all these persons, Mary Lascelles excepted, should be committed to the Tower: and this was done. Lord William Howard was imprisoned on December 9; the duchess of Norfolk on the 10th, and Lady Bridgewater on the 13th. All of them stoutly protested their ignorance and their innocence.[404] On December 10, 1541, Culpeper was beheaded at Tyburn; and the same day Derham was hung, drawn and quartered.[405]

Meanwhile, the duke of Norfolk had taken refuge at Kenninghall, about eighty miles from London. On December 15, he wrote to the king, saying that by reason of the offences committed by his family he found himself in the utmost perplexity. Twice in his letter he ‘prostrates himself at the king’s feet;’ and he expresses ‘some hope that your Highness will not conceive any[254] displeasure in your most gentle heart against me; that, God knoweth, never did think thought which might be to your discontentation.'[406] There did, however, remain something in the ‘most gentle heart’ of Henry VIII.

Parliament met, by the king’s command, on January 16, 1542, to give its attention to this business. Thus it was to the highest national assembly that the king entrusted the regulation of his domestic interests. On January 21, the chancellor introduced in the upper house a bill in which the king was requested not to trouble himself about the matter, considering that it might shorten his life; to declare guilty of high treason the queen and all her accomplices; and to condemn the queen and Lady Rochford to death. The bill passed both houses and received the royal assent.[407]

On February 12, the queen and Lady Rochford, her accomplice, were taken to Tower Hill and beheaded. The queen, while she confessed the offences which had preceded her marriage, protested to the last before God and his holy angels that she had never violated her faith to the king. But her previous offences gave credibility to those which were subsequent to her marriage. With regard to Lady Rochford, the confidant of the queen, she was universally hated. People called to mind the fact that her calumnies had been the principal cause of the death of the innocent Anne Boleyn and of her own husband; and nobody was sorry for her. The king pardoned the old duchess of Norfolk and some others who had been prosecuted for not disclosing the crime.

These events did not call forth within the realm many remarks of a painful kind for Henry VIII.; but the great example of immorality presented by the English court lessened the esteem in which it was held in Europe. There was no lack of similar licentiousness in France and elsewhere; but there a veil was thrown over it,[255] while in England it was public talk. Opinion afterwards became severe with regard to the king; and when his conduct to three of his former wives was remembered, people said of the disgrace cast on him by Catherine Howard, he well deserved it. As for the Catholic party, which had given Catherine to Henry and had cherished the hope that by her influence it should achieve its final triumph, it was greatly mortified, and it has been so down to our own time. Some Catholics, referring to these offences, have tried to lessen the abhorrence and the shame of them by saying ‘that a conspiracy was hatched to bring the queen to the scaffold.’ But the evidence produced against Catherine is so clear that they have been obliged to alter their tone. Catholicism assuredly has had its virtuous princesses in abundance, but it must be acknowledged that she who became its patroness in England in 1541 did not do it much honor.[408]

The elevation of Catherine Howard to the throne had been followed by an elevation of Catholicism in England; and the fall of this unhappy woman was followed by a depression of the party to which she belonged. This is our reason for dwelling on her history. These last events appear to have given offence at Rome. Pope Paul III. displayed more irritation than ever against Henry VIII. One of the king’s ambassadors at Venice wrote to him at this time,—’The bishop of Rome is earnestly at work to bring about a union of the emperor and the king of France for the ruin of your majesty;’ and the secret reflection that the count Ludovico de Rangon had been in England filled the pope with fury[409][256] and rage. The zeal and the caution of Cranmer in the affair of Catherine had greatly increased the king’s liking for him. Cranmer, however, was in no haste to take advantage of this to get any bold measures passed in favor of the Reformation. He knew that any such attempt would have had a contrary result. But he lost no opportunity of diffusing in England the principles of the Reformation.

Parliament met on January 16, 1542, and the Convocation of the clergy on the 20th of the same month. On Friday, February 17, the translation of the Holy Scriptures was on the order of the day. The suppression of the English Bible was desired by the majority of the bishops, most of all by Gardiner, who, since the fall of Catherine Howard, felt more than ever the necessity of resisting reformation. As he was unable to re-establish at once the Vulgate as a whole, he endeavored to retain what he could of it in the translation, so that the people might not understand what they read and might abandon it altogether. He proposed therefore to keep in the English translation one hundred and two Latin words ‘for the sake of their native meaning and their dignity.’ Among these words were—Ecclesia, pœnitentia, pontifex, holocaustum, simulacrum, episcopus, confessio, hostia, and others. In addition to the design which he entertained of preventing the people from understanding what they read, he had still another in regard to such as might understand any part of it. If he was desirous of retaining certain words, this was for the purpose of retaining certain dogmas. ‘Witness,’ says Fuller, ‘the word Penance, which according to vulgar sound, contrary to the original sense thereof, was a magazine of willworship, and brought in much gain to the Priests who were desirous to keep that word, because that word kept them.'[410] Cranmer gave the king warning of the matter; and it was agreed that the bishops should have nothing to do with[257] the translation of the Bible. On March 10 the archbishop informed Convocation that it was the king’s intention to have the translation examined by the two universities. The bishops were greatly annoyed; but Cranmer assured them that the king’s determination was to be carried out. All the prelates but two protested against this course. This decree, however, had no other object than to get rid of the bishops, for the universities were never consulted. This was obviously a blow struck at the Convocation of the clergy.[411]

The change which resulted from the disgrace of the Howards was apparent even in the case of the enemies of the Reformation. Bonner, bishop of London, a man at once violent and fickle, who after the death of Cromwell had suddenly turned against the Reformation, after the death of Catherine made a show of turning in the contrary direction. He published various admonitions and injunctions for the guidance of his diocese. ‘It is very expedient,’ he said to the laity, ‘that whosoever repaireth hither [to the church] to read this book, or any such like, in any other place, he prepare himself chiefly and principally with all devotion, humility and quietness to be edified and made the better thereby.’ To the clergy he said: ‘Every parson, vicar and curate shall read over and diligently study every week one chapter of the Bible,… proceeding from chapter to chapter, from the beginning of the Gospel of Matthew, to the end of the New Testament…. You are to instruct, teach and bring up in learning the best ye can all such children of your parishioners as shall come to you for the same; or at the least to teach them to read English,… so that they may thereby the better learn and know how to believe, how to pray, how to live to God’s pleasure.'[412]




The principles of the Reformation were spreading more and more, and especially among the London merchants; doubtless because they held more intercourse than other classes with foreigners. These men of business were much better informed than we in our days should suppose. One of them, Richard Hilles, had large business transactions with Strasburg and the rest of Germany; and while engaged in these he paid some attention to theological literature. He not merely read, but formed an opinion of the works which he read, and was thus at the same time merchant and critic. He read the Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius, as well as his Preparation and Demonstration; but he was not satisfied with Eusebius. He found in his writings false notions on free-will and on the marriage of ministers. Tertullian, on the other hand, charmed him by his simplicity, his piety, and likewise by the soundness of his judgment on the Eucharist; but he found much fault with his work on Prescriptions against Heretics.[413] Cyprian edified him by the fulness of his piety; but he was shocked by his overmuch severity, and by his opinions on satisfaction, which in his view were derogatory to the righteousness of Christ. Lactantius he loved as the defender of the cause of God; but he sharply criticised his opinions on the virtue of almsgiving, on the necessity of abstinence from flowers and perfumes, illecebræ istæ voluptatum arma, on the method of making up for evil works by good ones, on[259] the millennium, and many other subjects. Origen, Augustine, and Jerome were also included in the cycle of his studious labors.[414] Hilles considered it a great loss, even to a merchant, to pursue no studies. He found in them a remedy against the too strong influences of worldly affairs.

For him, however, the essential matter was the study of the Word of God. He used frequently to read and expound it in the houses of evangelical Christians in London. Bishop Gardiner, when examining one of Hilles’ neighbors, said to him: ‘Has not Richard Hilles been every day in your house, teaching you and others like you?’ Some ecclesiastics one day called upon him, while making a collection for placing tapers before the crucifix and the sepulchre of Christ in the parish church. He refused to contribute. The priests entreated his kinsmen and friends to urge him not to set himself against a practice which had existed for five centuries. No custom, said he, can prevail against the word of Christ—’They that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth.’ The priests now increased their threatenings, and Hilles left London and went to Strasburg, keeping up at the same time his house of business in London. The reader of Tertullian, Cyprian, Origen, and Augustine, on leaving the banks of the Rhine, went to Frankfort and to Nürnberg to sell his cloth.[415] Moreover he made a good use of the money which he received. ‘I send herewith to your piety,’ he wrote to Bullinger, ‘ten Italian crowns, which I desire to be laid out according to your pleasure, as occasion may offer, upon the poor exiles (rich, however, in Christ), and those especially, if such there be, who are in distress among you.'[416]

The more Henry VIII. felt the loss which he had sustained by the death of Cromwell, the more did he feel drawn to Cranmer and to the cause he advocated.[260] Already, in this same year, 1542, he addressed to Cranmer some letters for the abolition of idolatry, ordering the disuse of images, relics, tapers, reliquaries, tables and monuments of miracles, pilgrimages and other abuses.[417]

While laymen thus joined knowledge with faith, and business with teaching, Cranmer was slowly pursuing his task. When parliament met, January 22, 1543, the archbishop introduced ‘a Bill for the advancement of true religion.’ This Act at once prohibited and enjoined the reading of the Bible. Was this intentional or accidental? We are disposed to think it accidental. There were two currents of opinion in England, and both of them reappeared in the laws. Only it is to be noted that the better current was the stronger; it was the good cause which seemed ultimately to gain the ascendency on this occasion. It was ordered that the Bibles bearing Tyndale’s name should be suppressed; but the printers still issued his translation with hardly any alteration, shielding it under the names of Matthew, Taverner, Cranmer, and even Tonstall and Heath.[418] It was therefore read everywhere. The Act forbade that any one should read the Bible to others, either in any church or elsewhere, without the sanction of the king or of some bishop. But at the same time the chancellor of England, officers of the army, the king’s judges, the magistrates of any town or borough, and the Speaker of the House of Commons, who were accustomed to take a passage of Scripture as the text of their discourses, were empowered to read it. Further, every person of noble rank, male or female, being head of a family, was permitted to read the Bible or to cause it to be read by one of their domestics, in their own house, their garden or orchard, to their own family. Likewise, every trader or other person being head of a household was allowed to read it in private; but apprentices, work-people, &c.,[261] were to abstain. This enactment, thus interdicting the Bible to the common people, was both impious and absurd; impious in its prohibition, but also absurd, because reading in the family was recommended, and this might be done even by the domestics. The knowledge of the Scriptures might thus reach those to whom they were proscribed.[419]

At the same time, on the demand of Cranmer, the Act of Six Articles was somewhat modified. Those who had infringed its clauses were no longer to be punished with death, if they were laymen; and priests were to incur this penalty only after the third offence. This was certainly no great gain, but the primate obtained what he could.

He also endeavored to render as harmless as possible the book ‘A necessary doctrine and erudition for any Christian Man,’ which was published in 1543,[420] and was called ‘The King’s Book,’ to distinguish it from ‘The Institution of a Christian Man,’ which was called ‘The Bishop’s Book.’ This book of the king held a middle course between the doctrine of the pope and that of the Reformation, leaning, however, towards the latter. The grace and the mercy of God were established as the principle of our justification. Some reforms were introduced with respect to the worship of images and of the saints; the article on purgatory was omitted; large rights were granted to the church of every country; the vulgar tongue was recognized as necessary to meet the religious wants of the people. Still, many obscurities and errors were to be found in this book.

An event was approaching which would draw the king more decisively to the side of the Reformation. Although he had now made five successive marriages, and had experienced, undoubtedly by his own fault, only a long[262] series of disappointments and vexations, he was once more looking for a wife. A law which had been passed after the discovery of the misconduct of Catherine Howard terrified the maidens of England, even the most innocent among them; they would have been afraid of falling victims to the unjust suspicions of Henry VIII. He now determined to marry a widow.

Catherine Parr, the widow of Lord Latimer, was now at the court. She was a woman of good sense, of virtuous and amiable character, beautiful, and agreeable in manners,[421] and was past the prime of youth. She had, however, one defect which often attaches to noble characters,—a want of prudence. She did not always perceive and practise what was best to be done under certain circumstances. Especially was she wanting in that human prudence, so necessary at the court, and particularly to the wife of Henry VIII.; and hereby she was exposed to great danger. The king was now in a declining state; and his bodily infirmities as well as his irritable temper made it a necessity that some gentle and very considerate wife should take care of him. He married the noble dowager[422] on July 12, 1543; and he found in her the affection and the kind attentions of a virtuous lady. The crown was to Catherine but a poor compensation; but she discharged her duty devotedly, and shed some rays of sunshine over the last years of the king. The queen was favorable to the Reformation, as was likewise her brother, who was created earl of Essex, and her uncle, made Lord Parr of Horton. Cranmer and all those who wished for a real reformation were on the side of the new queen; while Gardiner and his party, now including the new chancellor, Wriothesley, taking alarm at this influence which was opposed to them, became more zealous than[263] ever in the maintenance of the old doctrine. These men felt that the power which they had possessed under Catherine Howard might slip out of their hands; and they resolved to spread terror among the friends of the Reformation, not excepting the queen herself, by attacking Cranmer. It was always this man at whom they aimed and struck their blows, nor was this the last time they did so.

The prebendaries of Canterbury and other priests of the same diocese, strongly attached to the Catholic doctrine, and disquieted and shocked by the reforming principles of the archbishop, came to an understanding with Gardiner, held a great many meetings among themselves, and collected a large number of reports hostile to the archbishop. They accused him of having removed images, and prohibited the partisans of the old doctrines from preaching; and the rumor was soon everywhere current that ‘the bishop of Winchester had bent his bow to shoot at some of the head deer.’ The long list of charges brought against the primate was forwarded to the king. Amongst the accusers were found some members of Cranmer’s church, magistrates whom he had laid under obligation to him, and men who almost daily sat at his table. Henry was pained and irritated; he loved Cranmer, but these numerous accusations disturbed him. Taking the document with him, he went out, as if going to take a walk alone on the banks of the Thames. He entered his bark. ‘To Lambeth,’ he said to his boatmen. Some of the domestics of the archbishop saw the boat approaching: they recognised the king, and gave information to their master, who immediately came down to pay his respects to his Majesty. Henry invited him to enter the bark; and when they were seated together, the boatmen being at a distance, the king began to lament the growth of heresy, and the debates which would inevitably result from it, and declared that he was determined to find out who was the principal promoter of these false[264] doctrines and to make an example of him. ‘What think you of it?’ he added. ‘Sir,’ replied Cranmer, ‘it is a good resolution; but I entreat you to consider well what heresy is, and not to condemn those as heretics who stand for the word of God against human inventions.’ After further explanations, the king said to him: ‘You are the man who, as I am informed, is the chief encourager of heresy.’ The king then handed to him the articles of accusation collected by his opponents. Cranmer took the papers and read them. When he had finished, he begged the king to appoint a commission to investigate these grievances, and frankly explained to him his own view of the case. The king, touched by his simplicity and candor, disclosed to him the conspiracy, and promised to nominate a commission; insisting, however, that the primate should be the chief member and that he should proceed against his accusers. Cranmer refused to do this. The commission was nominated. Dr. Lee, dean of York, made diligent inquiry, and found that men to whom Cranmer had rendered great services were in the number of the conspirators. Cranmer bore himself with great meekness towards them. He declined to confound and put them to shame as the king had required him to do; and the result was, that instead of condemning Cranmer, every one of them acknowledged that he was the first to practise the virtues which he preached to others, and thus showed himself to be a true bishop and a worthy reformer.[423]

As Gardiner and his colleagues had failed in their attempt to bring down the head deer, they determined to indemnify themselves by attacking lesser game. A society of friends of the Gospel had been formed at Oxford, the members of which were leading lowly and quiet lives, but at the same time were making courageous confession of the truth. Fourteen of them were apprehended by[265] Doctor London, supported by the bishop of Winchester. The persecutors chiefly directed their attack against three of these men. Robert Testwood, famed for his musical attainments and attached as a ‘singing-man’ to the chapel of Windsor College, used to speak with respect of Luther, ventured to read the Holy Scriptures, and exhorted his acquaintances not to bow down before dumb images, but to worship only the true and living God. Henry Filmer, a churchwarden, could not endure the fooleries which the priests retailed in the pulpit; and the latter, greatly stung by his criticism, accused him of being so thoroughly corrupted by heresy that he alone would suffice to poison the whole nation. Antony Peerson, a priest, preached with so much faith and eloquence, that the people flocked in crowds to hear him, both at Oxford and in the surrounding country places.

A fourth culprit at length appeared before the council. He was a poor man, simple-minded, and of mean appearance. Some loose sheets of a book lay upon the table in front of the bishop of Winchester. ‘Marbeck,’ said the bishop, ‘dost thou know wherefore thou art sent for?’ ‘No, my lord,’ he replied. The bishop, taking up some of the sheets, said to him: ‘Understandest thou the Latin tongue?’ ‘No, my lord,’ he answered, ‘but simply.’ Gardiner then stated to the council that the book he held in his hand was a Concordance, and that it was translated word for word from the original compiled for the use of preachers. He asserted ‘that if such a book should go forth in English, it would destroy the Latin tongue.’ Two days later Gardiner again sent for Marbeck. ‘Marbeck,’ said the bishop, ‘what a devil made thee to meddle with the Scriptures?[424] Thy vocation was another way … why the devil didst thou not hold thee there?… What helpers hadst thou[266] in setting forth thy book?’ ‘Forsooth, my lord,’ answered Marbeck, ‘none.’ ‘It is not possible that thou should’st do it without help,’ exclaimed the bishop. Then addressing one of his chaplains: ‘Here is a marvellous thing; this fellow hath taken upon him to set out the Concordance in English, which book, when it was set out in Latin, was not done without the help and diligence of a dozen learned men at least, and yet will he bear me in hand that he hath done it alone.’ Then, addressing Marbeck, he said: ‘Say what thou wilt, except God himself would come down from heaven and tell me so, I will not believe it.’ Marbeck was taken back to prison, and was placed in close confinement, with irons on his hands and feet. He was five times examined; and on the fifth occasion a new charge was brought against him;—he had written out with his own hand a letter of John Calvin.[425] This was worse than spending his time over the Bible.

Gardiner exerted himself to the utmost to secure the condemnation of this man to death, in company with Testwood, Filmer, and Peerson. The queen was now hardly on the throne. These three Christians were burnt alive; and they met death with so much humility, patience, and devotion to Jesus, their only refuge, that some of the bystanders declared that they would willingly have died with them and like them.[426] But the persecutors failed in their attempt with respect to Marbeck. Cranmer was able to convince the king that the making of a Concordance to the Bible ought not to be visited with death. It is well known that Henry VIII. attached much importance to the Holy Scriptures, which he considered the most powerful weapon against the pope. Marbeck, therefore, was spared.

It is, moreover, no wonder that there should still have[267] been martyrs. The queen, indeed, was friendly to their cause; but political circumstances were not favorable. After forty years’ alliance with France, Henry VIII. was about to declare war against that kingdom. The pretexts for this course were many. The first was the alliance of the king of France with the Turks, ‘who are daily advancing to destroy and ruin our holy faith and religion, to the great regret of all good Christians,’ said the Council.[427] A second pretext was that the sums of money which France was bound to pay annually to the king had fallen in arrear for nine years; there was also the question of the subsidies granted by France to Scotland during the war between Henry VIII. and the Scots; the reception and protection of English rebels by Francis I.; and the detention in French ports of faithful subjects of the king, merchants and others, with their ships and merchandise. In the despatch which we have just cited, the king also declared that, if within twenty days the grievances set forth were not redressed, he should claim the kingdom of France unjustly held by Francis I. The French ambassador replied in a conciliatory manner. Diplomacy made no reference to other grounds of complaint of a more private character, which perhaps throw light upon those which occasioned the rupture. Francis I. had jested about the way in which Henry VIII. dealt with his wives. Henry had sought the hand of French princesses, and they had no mind for this foreign husband; and lastly, Francis did not fulfil the promise which he had made to separate from Rome. There were many other pretexts besides, more or less reasonable, which determined the king to invade France.

While withdrawing from alliance with Francis I., Henry could not but at the same time enter into closer relation with Charles V. This reconciliation seemed natural, for the king of England was really, in respect to religion,[268] more in harmony with the emperor than with the Protestants of Germany, whose alliance he had for some time desired. But Charles required first of all that the legitimacy and the rights of his cousin, the princess Mary, should be acknowledged; and this Henry refused to do, because it would have involved an acknowledgment of his injustice to Catherine of Aragon. A solution which satisfied the emperor was ultimately devised. It was provided by Act of Parliament that if Prince Edward should die without children, ‘the crown should go to the lady Mary.'[428] But in this Act no mention was made of her legitimacy. The result of the concession of this point to Charles V. was to bring on England a five years’ bloody persecution, and to give her people Philip II. for their king. In default of any issue of Mary, Elizabeth was to succeed to the throne. After the passing of this Act, in March, 1543, a treaty of alliance was concluded between England and the Empire.

The war which Henry VIII., ‘king of England, France, and Ireland,’ said the parliament, now carried on against Francis I. has little to do with the history of the Reformation. The king, having named the queen regent of his kingdom, embarked for France, on July 14, 1544, on a vessel hung with cloth of gold. He was now feeble and corpulent, but his vanity and love of display were always conspicuous, even when setting out for a war. Having arrived on the frontier of France he found himself at the head of 45,000 men, 30,000 of whom were English. The emperor, who had got the start of him, was already within two days’ march of Paris; and the city was in alarm at the approach of the Germans. ‘I can not prevent my people of Paris from being afraid,’ said Francis, ‘but I will prevent them from suffering injury.’ Charles paid little respect to his engagement with Henry VIII., and now treated separately with Francis at Crespy, near Laon, September 19, and left the king[269] of England to get out of the affair as well as he could. Henry captured Boulogne, but this was all that he had of his kingdom of France. On September 30 he returned to London.

The war, however, continued until 1546. England, abandoned by the emperor, found sympathy in a quarter where it might least have been expected,—in Italy. The Italians, who were conscious of the evils brought on their own land by the papacy, were filled with admiration for the prince and the nation which had cast off its yoke. Edmund Harvel, ambassador of Henry VIII. in Italy, being at this time at Venice, was continually receiving visits from captains of high reputation, who came to offer their services. Among these was Ercole Visconti of Milan, a man of high birth, a great captain, and one who, having extensive connections in Italy, might render great services to the king.[429] The French were now making an attempt to retake Boulogne; but the Italian soldiers who were serving in their army were constantly going over to the English, at the rate of thirty per day. The Italian companies were thus so largely reduced that the captains requested permission to leave the camp for want of soldiers to command; and permission was given them.[430] In this matter the pope was involved in difficulty. He had undertaken to furnish Francis I. with a body of four thousand men; but as the king was afraid that these Roman soldiers would pass over to the English army,[431] he requested Paul III. to substitute for these auxiliaries a monthly subsidy of 16,000 crowns. ‘As the Italian nation,’ added the English ambassador in his letter to Henry VIII., ‘is alienate from the French king, so the[270] same is more and more inclined to your Majesty.’ From this episode it is evident that Italy was at this time favorably disposed towards the Reformation.

But if in Italy there were many supporters of Protestantism, in England its opponents were still more numerous. The fanatical party had attempted in 1543 to expel Reform from the town of Windsor by means of martyrdom. But the account was not settled; it still remained to purify the castle. It was known that Testwood, Filmer, Peerson, and Marbeck himself had had patrons in Sir Thomas and Lady Cardine, Sir Philip and Lady Hobby, Dr. Haynes, dean of Exeter, and other persons at the court. Dr. London, who was always on the look-out for heretics, and a pleader named Simons, sent to Gardiner one Ockam, a secretary, with letters, accusations, and secret documents as to the way in which they intended to proceed. But one of the queen’s servants reached the court before him and gave notice of the scheme. Ockam on his arrival, was arrested, all the papers examined, and evidence was discovered in them of an actual conspiracy against many persons at the court. This aroused great indignation in the king’s mind. It is highly probable that these gentlemen and their wives owed their safety to the influence of the queen and of Cranmer. London and Simons, unaware that their letters and documents had fallen into the hands of their judges, denied the plot, and this even upon oath. Their own writings were now produced, it was proved that they were guilty of perjury, and they were condemned to ignominious punishment. London, that great slayer of heretics, and his colleague, were conducted on horseback, facing backwards, with the name of perjurer on their foreheads, through the streets of Windsor, Reading, and Newbury, the king being now at the last named town. They were afterwards set in the pillory and then taken back to prison. London died there of distress caused by this public disgrace. It was well that the wind should change, and that persecutors[271] should be punished instead of the persecuted; but the manners of the time subjected these wretches to shocking sufferings which it would have been better to spare them.[432]



Henry VIII., sick and fretful, was easily drawn first to one side, then to the other. He was a victim of indecision, of violent excitement and of irresolution. His brother-in-law, the duke of Suffolk, who of all the members of the Privy Council was the most determined supporter of the Reformation, had died in August, 1545, and that body was thenceforward impelled in an opposite direction, and carried the king along with it.

Shaxton, having resigned his see of Salisbury after the publication of the Six Articles, had been put in prison, and had long rejected all proposals of recantation addressed to him. Having aggravated his offence while in prison by asserting that the natural body of Christ was not in the sacrament, he was condemned to be burnt. The bishops of London and Worcester, sent by the king, visited him in the prison and strove to convince him. This feeble and egotistic man readily professed himself persuaded, and thanked the king ‘for that he had delivered him at the same time from the temporal and from the everlasting fire.’ On July 13, 1546, he was set at liberty. As he grew old his understanding became still weaker; and in Mary’s reign the unhappy man was one of the most eager to burn those whom he had called his brethren.[433]


While there were men like Shaxton, whose fall was decisive and final, others were to be met with who, although in their own hearts decided for the truth, were alarmed when they found themselves in danger of death, and subscribed the Catholic declarations which were offered to them. But after having thus plunged into the abyss, they lifted up their heads as soon as possible and again confessed the truth. One of this class was Edward Crome, who, at this period, gave way on two occasions, but recovered himself.[434]

Many other blemishes were visible in the general state of the Anglican church; and the obstinacy of the king, in particular, in maintaining in his kingdom, side by side, two things in opposition to each other, the Catholic doctrines and the reading of the Bible, subjected the sacred volume to strange honors. The king in person prorogued the parliament on December 24, and on this occasion made his last speech to the highest body in the state. He spoke as vicar of God, and gave a lecture to the ministers and the members of the church. It was his taste; he believed that he was born for this position, and there was in his nature as much of the preceptor as of the king. Moreover, there was nothing which offended him so much as the attempt to address a lecture to himself. Any one who did so risked his own life. But while he was easily hurt, he did not shrink from hurting the feelings of others. He handled the rod more easily than the sceptre.

The Speaker of the House of Commons having delivered an address to the king in which he extolled his virtues, Henry replied as follows:—’Whereas you … have both praised and extolled me for the notable qualities you have conceived to be in me, I most heartily thank you all that you put me in remembrance of my duty, which is to endeavor myself to obtain and get[273] such excellent qualities and necessary virtues…. No prince in the world more favoreth his subjects than I do you, nor any subjects or commons more love and obey their sovereign lord than I perceive you do me. Yet, although I with you, and you with me, be in this perfect love and concord, this friendly amity can not continue except you, my lords temporal, and you, my lords spiritual, and you, my loving subjects, study and take pains to amend any thing, which is surely amiss and far out of order, … which is, that charity and concord is not among you; but discord and dissension beareth rule in every place. St. Paul saith to the Corinthians, in the thirteenth chapter, “Charity is gentle, charity is not envious, charity is not proud,” and so forth. Behold then what love and charity is amongst you when one calleth the other heretic and anabaptist; and he calleth him again papist, hypocrite, and pharisee. Be these things tokens of charity amongst you? Are these the signs of fraternal love between you? No, no, I assure you that this lack of charity amongst yourselves will be the hindrance and assuaging of the fervent love between us, except this wound be salved and clearly made whole. I must needs judge the fault and occasion of this discord to be partly by the negligence of you, the fathers and preachers of the spiritualty…. I see and hear daily that you of the clergy preach one against another, … and few or none do preach truly and sincerely the Word of God…. Alas! how can the poor souls live in concord when you preachers sow amongst them, in your sermons, debate and discord? Of you they look for light, and you bring them to darkness. Amend these crimes, I exhort you, and set forth God’s word, both by true preaching and good example-giving; or else I, whom God hath appointed his vicar and high minister here, will see these divisions extinct…. Although (as I say) the spiritual men be in some fault … yet you of the temporalty be not clean and unspotted of malice[274] and envy; for you rail on bishops, speak slanderously of priests, and rebuke and taunt preachers…. Although you be permitted to read Holy Scripture, and to have the Word of God in your mother tongue, you must understand that it is licensed you so to do, only to inform your own conscience, and to instruct your children and family; not to dispute and make Scripture a railing and a taunting stock against priests and preachers, as many light persons do. I am very sorry to know and hear how unreverently that most precious jewel, the Word of God, is disputed, rhymed, sung, and jangled in every alehouse and tavern, contrary to the true meaning and doctrine of the same…. Be in charity one with another, … to the which I, as your supreme head and sovereign lord, exhort and require you; and then I doubt not but that love and league, which I spake of in the beginning, shall never be dissolved or broken between us.'[435]

The school-master had not spoken amiss. The parliament did not make the retort, ‘Physician, heal thyself,’ though it might have been applicable. One of the measures by which the king manifested his ‘sweet charity’ proves that, if he were not, like some old school-masters, a tyrant of words and syllables, he tyrannized over the peace and the lives of his people.

There were at the court a certain number of ladies of the highest rank who loved the Gospel—the duchess of Suffolk, the countess of Sussex, the countess of Hertford, Lady Denny, Lady Fitzwilliam,[436] and above all the queen. Associated with these was a pious, lively, and beautiful young lady, of great intelligence and amiable disposition, and whose fine qualities had been improved by education. Her name was Anne Askew. She was the second daughter of Sir William Askew, member of a very ancient Lin[275]colnshire family. She had two brothers and two sisters. Her brother Edward was one of the king’s bodyguards. The queen frequently received Anne and other Christian women in her private apartments; and there prayer was made and the Word of God expounded by an evangelical minister. The king, indeed, was aware of these secret meetings, but he feigned ignorance. Anne was at this time in great need of the consolations of the Gospel. Her father, Sir William, had a rich neighbor named Kyme, with whom he was intimate; and being anxious that his eldest daughter should marry a rich man, he arranged with Kyme that she should wed his eldest son. The young lady died before the nuptials took place; and Sir William, reluctant to let slip so good a chance, compelled his second daughter Anne to marry the betrothed of her sister, and by him she became the mother of two children. The third sister, Joan, was married to Sir John Saint-Paul. The Holy Scriptures in the English version attracted Anne’s attention, and ere long she became so attached to them that she meditated on them day and night. Led by them to a living faith in Jesus Christ, she renounced Romish superstitions. The priests, who were greatly annoyed, stirred up against her her young husband, a rough man and a staunch papist, who ‘violently drove her out of his house.'[437] Anne said, ‘Since, according to the Scripture, “if the unbelieving depart, let him depart. A brother or a sister is not under bondage in such cases,”[438]—I claim my divorce.’ She went to London to take the necessary proceedings; and either through her brother, one of the guards, or otherwise, made the acquaintance of the pious ladies of the court and of the queen herself.

It was a great vexation to the enemies of the Reformation to see persons of the highest rank almost openly professing the evangelical faith. As they did not dare to attack them, they determined to make a beginning[276] with Anne Askew, and thereby to terrify the rest. She had said one day, ‘I would sooner read five lines in the Bible than hear five masses in the church.’ On another occasion she had denied the corporal presence of the Saviour in the sacrament. She was sent to prison. When she was taken to Sadlers Hall, the judge, Dare, asked her, ‘Do you not believe that the sacrament hanging over the altar was the very body of Christ really?’ Anne replied, ‘Wherefore was St. Stephen stoned to death?’ Dare, doubtless, remembered that Stephen had said, ‘I see the Son of man sitting at the right hand of God.’ From this it followed that He was not in the sacrament. He preferred to answer, ‘I can not tell.’ It is possible, however, that his ignorance was not feigned. ‘No more,’ said Anne, ‘will I assoil your vain question.’ Anne was afterwards taken before the lord-mayor, Sir Martin Bowes, a passionate bigot. He was under-treasurer of the Mint, and in 1550 obtained the king’s pardon for all the false money which he had coined. The magistrate gravely asked her whether a mouse, eating the host, received God or no? ‘I made no answer, but smiled,’ says Anne. The bishop’s chancellor, who was present, sharply said to her, ‘St. Paul forbade women to speak or to talk of the Word of God.’ ‘How many women,’ said she in reply, ‘have you seen go into the pulpit and preach?’ ‘Never any,’ he said. ‘You ought not to find fault in poor women, except they have offended the law.’ She was unlawfully committed to prison, and for eleven days no one was allowed to see her. At this time she was about twenty-five years of age.

One of her cousins, named Brittayne, was admitted to see her. He immediately did every thing he could to get Anne released on bail. The lord-mayor bade him apply to the chancellor of the bishop of London. The chancellor replied to him, ‘Apply to the bishop.’ The bishop said, ‘I will give order for her to appear before me to-morrow at three o’clock in the afternoon.’ He[277] then subjected her to a long examination. He asked her, amongst other things, ‘Do you not think that private masses help the souls departed?’ ‘It is great idolatry,’ she replied, ‘to believe more in them than in the death which Christ died for us.’ ‘What kind of answer is this?’ said the bishop of London. ‘It is a weak one,’ replied Anne, ‘but good enough for such a question.’ After the examination, at which Anne made clear and brief replies, Bonner wrote down a certain number of articles of faith, and required that Anne should set her hand to them. She wrote, ‘I believe so much thereof as the Holy Scripture doth agree unto.’ This was not what Bonner wanted. The bishop pressed the point, and said, ‘Sign this document.’ Anne then wrote, ‘I, Anne Askew, do believe all manner of things contained in the faith of the Catholic Church.’ The bishop, well knowing what Anne meant by this word, hurried away into an adjoining room in a great rage.[439] Her cousin Brittayne followed him and implored him to treat his kinswoman kindly. ‘She is a woman,’ exclaimed the bishop, ‘and I am nothing deceived in her.’ ‘Take her as a woman,’ said Brittayne, ‘and do not set her weak woman’s wit to your lordship’s great wisdom.’ At length, Anne’s two sureties, to wit, Brittayne and Master Spilman of Grays Inn, were on the following day accepted, and she was set at liberty. These events took place in the year 1545.

Anne having continued to profess the Gospel, and to have meetings with her friends, she was again arrested three months later, and was brought before the privy council at Greenwich. On the opening of the examination she refused to go into the matter before the council, and said, ‘If it be the king’s pleasure to hear me, I will show him the truth.’ ‘It is not meet,’ they replied, ‘for the king to be troubled with you.’ She answered, ‘Solomon was reckoned the wisest king that ever lived, yet[278] misliked he not to hear two poor common women; much more his grace a single woman and his faithful subject.’ ‘Tell me your opinion on the sacrament,’ said the lord chancellor. ‘I believe,’ she said, ‘that so oft as I, in a Christian congregation, do receive the bread in remembrance of Christ’s death, and with thanksgiving … I receive therewith the fruits also of his most glorious passion.’ ‘Make a direct answer to the question,’ said Gardiner. ‘I will not sing a new song of the Lord,’ she said, ‘in a strange land.’ ‘You speak in parables,’ said Gardiner. ‘It is best for you,’ she answered; ‘for if I show the open truth, ye will not accept it.’ ‘You are a parrot,’ said the incensed bishop. She replied, ‘I am ready to suffer all things at your hands, not only your rebukes, but all that shall follow besides, yea, and all that gladly.’

The next day Anne once more appeared before the council. They began the examination on the subject of transubstantiation. Seeing Lord Parr, uncle to the queen, and Lord Lisle, she said to them, ‘It is a great shame for you to counsel contrary to your knowledge.’ ‘We would gladly,’ they answered, ‘all things were well.’ Gardiner wished to speak privately with her, but this she refused. The lord chancellor then began to examine her again. ‘How long,’ said Anne, ‘will you halt on both sides?’ ‘You shall be burnt,’ said the bishop of London. She replied, ‘I have searched all the Scriptures, yet could I never find that either Christ or his apostles put any creature to death.’

Anne was sent back to prison. She was very ill, and believed herself to be near death. Never had she had to endure such attacks. She requested leave to see Latimer, who was still confined in the Tower; but this consolation was not allowed her. Resting firmly, as she did, on Scriptural grounds, she did not suffer herself to swerve. To her constitutional resolution she added that which was the fruit of communion with God; and she[279] was thus placed by faith above the attacks which she experienced. Having a good foundation, she resolutely defended the freedom of her conscience and her full trust in Christ; and not only did she encounter her enemies without wavering, but she spoke to them with a power sufficient to awe them, and gave home-thrusts which threw them into confusion. Nevertheless she was only a weak woman, and her bodily strength began to fail. In Newgate she said,—’The Lord strengthen us in the truth. Pray, pray, pray.’ She composed while in prison some stanzas which have been pronounced extraordinary, not only for simple beauty and sublime sentiment, but also for the noble structure and music of the verse.[440]

By law, Anne had a right to be tried by jury; but on June 28, 1546, she was condemned by the lord chancellor and the council, without further process, to be burnt, for having denied the corporal presence of Christ. They asked her whether she wished for a priest; she smiled and said she would confess her faults unto God, for she was sure that He would hear her with favor. She added: ‘I think his grace shall well perceive me to be weighed in an uneven pair of balances…. Here I take heaven and earth to record that I shall die in mine innocency.'[441]

It was proved that Anne had derived her faith from the Holy Scriptures. Gardiner and his partisans therefore prevailed upon the government, eight days before the death of this young Christian, to issue a proclamation purporting ‘that from henceforth no man, woman or person of what estate, condition or degree soever he or they be [consequently including the ladies and gentlemen of the court as well as others], shall, after the last day of August next ensuing receive, have, take or keep in their possession the text of the New Testament, of Tyndale’s or Coverdale’s translation in English, nor any other than[280] is permitted by the Act of Parliament; … nor after the said day shall receive, have, take or keep in his or their possession any manner of books printed or written in the English tongue which be or shall be set forth in the names of Fryth, Tyndale, Wycliffe, … Barnes, Coverdale, … or by any of them; … and it was required that all such books should be delivered to the mayor, bailiff or chief constable of the town to be openly burned.[442]

This was a remarkable proceeding on the part of Henry VIII. But events were stronger than the proclamation, and it remained a dead letter.

Anne’s sentence was pronounced before the issue of the proclamation. The trial was over, and there was to be no further inquiry. But her death was not enough to satisfy Rich, Wriothesley and their friends. They had other designs, and were about to perpetrate the most shameful and cruel acts. The object which these men now proposed to themselves was to obtain such evidence as would warrant them in taking proceedings against those ladies of the court who were friends of the Gospel. They went (July 13) to the Tower, where Anne was still confined, and questioned her about her accomplices, naming the duchess-dowager of Suffolk, the countess of Sussex and several others. Anne answered, ‘If I should pronounce any thing against them, I should not be able to prove it.’ They next asked her whether there were no members of the royal council who gave her their support. She said, none. The king is informed, they replied, that if you choose you can name a great many persons who are members of your sect. She answered that ‘the king was as well deceived in that behalf as dissembled with in other matters.’ The only effect of these denials was to irritate Wriothesley and his colleague; and, determined at any cost to obtain information against influential persons at the court, they ordered the rack to be applied[281] to the young woman. This torture lasted a long time; but Anne gave no hint, nor even uttered a cry. The lord chancellor, more and more provoked, said to Sir Antony Knevet, lieutenant of the Tower, ‘Strain her on the rack again.’ The latter refused to do this. It was to no purpose that Wriothesley threatened him if he would not obey.

Rich, a member of the privy council, had frequently given proof of his baseness. Wriothesley was ambitious, inflated with self-conceit, haughty, and easily angered if his advice was not taken. These two men now forgot themselves; and the spectacle was presented of the lord chancellor of England and a privy councillor of the king turned into executioners. They set their own hands to the horrible instrument, and so severely applied the torture to the innocent young woman, that she was almost broken upon it and quite dislocated. She fainted away and was well-nigh dead.[443] ‘Then the lieutenant caused me to be loosed; incontinently I swooned, and then they recovered me again. After that I sat two long hours, reasoning with my Lord Chancellor on the bare floor, where he, with many flattering words, persuaded me to leave my opinion.'[444] Henry VIII. himself censured Wriothesley for his cruelty, and excused the lieutenant of the Tower. ‘Then was I brought to a house,’ says Anne, ‘laid in a bed, with as weary and painful bones as ever Job had.’ The chancellor sent word to her that if she renounced her faith she should be pardoned and should want for nothing, but that otherwise she should[282] be burnt. She answered, ‘I will sooner die.’ At the same time she fell on her knees in the dungeon and said: ‘O Lord, I have more enemies now than there be hairs on my head; yet, Lord, let them never overcome me with vain words, but fight thou, Lord, in my stead, for on thee I cast my care. With all the spite they can imagine, they fall upon me, who am thy poor creature. Yet, sweet Lord, let me not set by them that are against me; for in thee is my whole delight. And, Lord, I heartily desire of thee, that thou wilt of thy most merciful goodness forgive them that violence which they do, and have done, unto me. Open also thou their blind hearts, that they may hereafter do that thing in thy sight, which is only acceptable before thee, and to set forth thy verity aright, without all vain fantasies of sinful men. So be it, O Lord, so be it.'[445]

The 16th of July, the day fixed for the last scene of this tragedy, had arrived; every thing was ready for the burning of Anne at Smithfield. The execution was to take place not in the morning, the usual time, but at nightfall, to make it the more terrible. It was thus, in every sense, a deed of darkness. They were obliged to carry Anne to the place of execution, for in her state at that time she was unable to walk. When she reached the pile, she was bound to the post by her waist, with a chain which prevented her from sinking down. The wretched Shaxton, nominated for the purpose, then completed his apostasy by delivering a sermon on the sacrament of the altar, a sermon abounding in errors. Anne, who was in full possession of her faculties, contented herself with saying, ‘He misseth and speaketh without the Book.’ Three other evangelical Christians were to die at the same time with her: Belenian, a priest; J. Lacels (Lascelles), of the king’s household, probably the man who had revealed the incontinence of Catherine Howard, a deed for which the Roman party hated him; and one[283] Adams, a Colchester man. ‘Now, with quietness,’ said Lacels, ‘I commit the whole world to their pastor and herdsman Jesus Christ, the only Saviour and true Messias….’ The letter from which we quote is subscribed, ‘John Lacels, late servant to the king, and now I trust to serve the everlasting King, with the testimony of my blood in Smithfield.'[446]

There was an immense gathering of the people. On a platform erected in front of St. Bartholomew’s church were seated, as presidents at the execution, Wriothesley, lord chancellor of England, the old duke of Norfolk, the old earl of Bedford, the lord-mayor Bowes, and various other notabilities. When the fire was going to be lighted, the chancellor sent a messenger to Anne Askew, instructed to offer her the king’s pardon if she would recant. She answered, ‘I am not come hither to deny my Lord and Master.’ The same pardon was offered to the other martyrs, but they refused to accept it and turned away their heads. Then stood up the ignorant and fanatical Bowes, and exclaimed with a loud voice, ‘Fiat justitia!’ Anne was soon wrapt in the flames; and this noble victim who freely offered herself a sacrifice to God, gave up her soul in peace. Her companions did likewise.[447]

These four persons were the last victims of the reign of Henry VIII. The enemies of the Reformation were especially annoyed at this time to see women of the first families of England embrace the faith which they hated. On a woman of most superior mind, but young and weak, fell the last blow levelled against the Gospel by the defender of the faith. Anne Askew fell; but the great doctrines which she had so courageously professed were soon to be triumphant in the midst of her fellow-countrymen.




It might be asked how it came to pass that the queen did not put a stop to these cruel executions. The answer is easy—she was herself in danger. The enemies of the Reformation, perceiving her influence over the king, bethought themselves that the execution of Anne Askew and of her companions did not advance their cause; that to make it triumphant the death of the queen was necessary; and that if Catherine were ruined, the Reformation would fall with her. Shortly after the king’s return from France, these men approached him and cautiously insinuated that the queen had made large use of her liberty during his absence; that she diligently read and studied the Holy Scriptures; that she chose to have about her only women who shared her opinions; that she had engaged certain would-be wise and pious persons to assist her in attaining a thorough knowledge of the sacred writings; that she held private conferences with them on spiritual subjects all the year round, and that ‘in Lent every day in the afternoon, for the space of an hour, one of her said chaplains, in her privy chamber,’ expounded the Word of God to the queen, to the ladies of her court and of her bed-chamber and others who were disposed to hear these expositions;[448] that the minister frequently attacked what he called the abuses of the existing church; that the queen read heretical books proscribed by royal ordinances; further, that she, the queen of England, employed her leisure hours in translating religious works, and in composing books of devotion; and that she had[285] turned some of the psalms into verse, and had made a collection entitled Prayers or Meditations. The king had always ignored these meetings, determined not to see, what was nevertheless clear, that the queen was an evangelical Christian like Anne Askew, who had lately been burnt.

Catherine was encouraged by this consideration on the part of the king. She professed her faith in the Gospel unreservedly, and boldly took up the cause of the evangelicals. Her one desire was to make known the truth to the king, and to bring him to the feet of Jesus Christ to find forgiveness for the errors of his life. Without regard to consequences she allowed her overflowing zeal to have free and unrestricted course. She longed to transform not the king alone, but England also. She often exhorted the king ‘that as he had, to the glory of God and his eternal fame, begun a good and a godly work in banishing that monstrous idol of Rome, so he would thoroughly perfect and finish the same, cleansing and purging his church of England clean from the dregs thereof, wherein as yet remained great superstition.'[449]

Was the passionate Henry going to act rigorously towards this queen as he had towards the others? Catherine’s blameless conduct, the affection which she testified for him, her respectful bearing, her unwearied endeavor to please him, the attentions which she lavished on him, had so much endeared her to him that he allowed her the privilege of being free spoken; and had it not been for the active opposition of its enemies, she might have propagated the Gospel throughout the kingdom. As these determined enemies of the Reformation were beginning to fear the total ruin of their party, they strove to rekindle the evil inclinations of Henry VIII., and to excite his anger against Catherine. In their view it seemed that the boldness of her opinions must inevitably involve her ruin.


But the matter was more difficult than they thought. The king not only loved his wife, but he also liked discussion, especially on theological subjects; and he had too much confidence in his own cleverness and knowledge to dread the arguments of the queen. The latter therefore continued her petty warfare, and in respectful terms advanced good scriptural proofs in support of her faith. Henry used to smile and take it all in good part, or at least never appeared to be offended. Gardiner, Wriothesley and others who heard these discourses were alarmed at them. They were almost ready to give up all for lost; and trembling for themselves, they renounced their project. Not one of them ventured to breathe a word against the queen either before the king or in his absence. At length, they found an unexpected auxiliary.

An ulcer burst in the king’s leg, and gave him acute pain which constantly increased. Henry had led a sensual life, and had now become so corpulent, that it was exceedingly difficult to move him from one room to another. He insisted that no one should take notice of his failing powers; and those about him hardly dared to speak of the fact in a whisper.[450] His condition made him peevish; he was restless, and thought that his end was not far off. The least thing irritated him; gloomy and passionate, he had frequent fits of rage. To approach and attend to him had become a difficult task; but Catherine, far from avoiding it, was all the more zealous. Since his illness Henry had given up coming into the queen’s apartments, but he invited her to come to see him; and she frequently went of her own accord, after dinner, or after supper, or at any other favorable opportunity. The thought that Henry was gradually drawing near to the grave filled her heart with the deepest emotion; and she availed herself of every opportunity of bringing him to a decision in favor of evangelical[287] truth. Her endeavors for this end may sometimes have been made with too much urgency. One evening when Wriothesley and Gardiner, the two leaders of the Catholic party, were with the king, Catherine, who ought to have been on her guard, carried away by the ardor of her faith, endeavored to prevail upon Henry to undertake the reformation of the church. The king was hurt. His notion that the queen was lecturing him as a pupil in the presence of the lord chancellor and the bishop of Winchester, increased his vexation. He roughly ‘brake off that matter and took occasion to enter into other talk.'[451] This he had never before done; and Catherine was surprised and perplexed. Henry, however, did not reproach her, but spoke affectionately, which was certainly on his part the mark of real love. The queen having risen to retire, he said to her as usual, ‘Farewell! sweet heart.'[452] Catherine meanwhile was disquieted, and felt that keen distress of mind which seizes upon a refined and susceptible woman when she has acted imprudently.

The chancellor and the bishop remained with the king. Gardiner had observed the king’s breaking off the conversation; and he thought, says a contemporary, ‘that he must strike while the iron was hot;’ that he must take advantage of Henry’s ill humor, and by a skilful effort get rid of Catherine and put an end to her proselytism. It was a beaten track; the king had already in one way or another rid himself of four of his queens, and it would be an easy matter to do as much with a fifth.

Henry furnished them with the wished-for opportunity. Annoyed at having been humiliated in the presence of the two lords, he said to them in an ironical tone: ‘A good hearing it is when women become such clerks; and a thing much to my comfort, to come in mine old days to be taught by my wife.’ The bishop adroitly[288] availed himself of this opening, and put forth all his powers and all his malice to increase the anger of the king. He urged that it was lamentable that the queen ‘should so much forget herself as to take upon her to stand in any argument with his Majesty;’ he praised the king to his face ‘for his rare virtues, and especially for his learned judgment in matters of religion, above not only princes of that and other ages, but also above doctors professed in theology.’ He said ‘that it was an unseemly thing for any of his majesty’s subjects to reason and argue with him so malapertly,’ and that it was ‘grievous to him (Gardiner) for his part, and other of his majesty’s counsellors and servants to hear the same.’ He added ‘that they all by proof knew his wisdom to be such, that it was not needful for any to put him in mind of any such matters; inferring, moreover, how dangerous and perilous a matter it is … for a prince to suffer such insolent words at his subjects’ hands, who, as they take boldness to contrary their sovereign in words, so want they no will, but only power and strength, to overthwart him in deeds.[453] Besides this, that the religion by the queen so stiffly maintained did not only disallow and dissolve the policy and politic government of princes, but also taught the people that all things ought to be in common.'[454] The bishop went on to assert that ‘whosoever (saving the reverence due to her for his majesty’s sake) should defend the principles maintained by the queen, deserved death.’ He did not, however, dare, he said, to speak of the queen, unless he were sure that his majesty would be his buckler. But with his majesty’s consent his faithful counsellors would soon tear off the hypocritical mask of heresy and would disclose treasons so horrible that his majesty would no longer cherish a serpent in his own bosom.


The lord chancellor spoke in his turn; and the two conspirators did every thing they could to stir up the anger of the king against the queen. They filled his head with a thousand tales, both about herself and about some of her lady-attendants; they told him that they had been favorable to Anne Askew; that they had in their possession heretical books; and that they were guilty of treason as well as of heresy. Suspicion and distrust, to which the king’s disposition was too naturally inclined, took possession of him, and he required his two councillors to ascertain whether any articles of law could be brought forward against the queen, even at the risk of her life.[455] They quitted the king’s presence, promising to make very good use of the commission entrusted to them.

The bishop and the chancellor set to work immediately. They resorted to means of every kind—tricks, intrigues, secret correspondence—for the purpose of making out an appearance of guilt on the part of the queen. By bribing some of her domestics they were enabled to get a catalogue of the books which she had in her cabinet. Taking counsel with some of their accomplices, it occurred to them that if they began by attacking the queen, this step would excite almost universal reprobation. They determined, therefore, to prepare men’s minds by making a beginning with the ladies who enjoyed her confidence, and particularly with those of her own kindred—Lady Herbert, afterwards countess of Pembroke, the queen’s sister, and first lady of her court; Lady Lane, her cousin-german; and Lady Tyrwit, who by her virtues had gained her entire confidence. Their plan was to examine these three ladies on the Six Articles; to institute a rigorous search in their houses with a view to find some ground of accusation against Queen Catherine; and, in case they should succeed, to arrest the queen herself and carry her[290] off by night, in a bark, to the Tower. The further they proceeded with their work of darkness, the more they encouraged and cheered each other on; they considered themselves quite strong enough to strike at once the great blow, and they resolved to make the first attack on the queen. They therefore drew up against her a bill of indictment, which purported especially that she had contravened the Six Articles, had violated the royal proclamation by reading prohibited books, and, in short, had openly maintained heretical doctrine. Nothing was wanting but to get the king’s signature to the bill; for if, without the sanction of this signature, they should cast suspicions on the queen, they would expose themselves to a charge of high treason.[456]

Henry VIII. was now at Whitehall; and in consequence of the state of his health he very seldom left his private apartments. But few of his councillors, and these only by special order, were allowed to see him. Gardiner and Wriothesley alone came to the palace more frequently than usual to confer with him on the mission which he had entrusted to them. Taking with them their hateful indictment, they went to the palace, were admitted to the king’s presence, and after a suitable introduction they laid before him the fatal document, requesting him to sign it. Henry read it, and took careful note of its contents; then asked for writing materials, and notwithstanding his feebleness he signed it. This was a great victory for the bishop, the chancellor and the Catholic party; and it was a great defeat for the Reformation, apparently the signal for its ruin. Nothing was now wanting but a writ of arrest, and the chancellor of England would send the queen to the Tower. Once there, her situation would be hopeless.

So cleverly had the plot been managed, that during the whole time the queen had neither known nor sus[291]pected any thing; she paid her usual visits to the king, and had gradually allowed herself to speak to him on religion as she used to do. The king permitted this without gainsaying her; he did not choose to enter into explanations with her. He was, however, ill at ease. The burden was oppressive; and one evening, just after the queen left him, he opened his mind to one of his physicians, in whom he placed full confidence, and said: ‘I do not like the queen’s religion, and I do not intend to be much longer worried by the discourses of this doctoress.’ He likewise revealed to the physician the project formed by some of his councillors, but forbade him, upon pain of death, to say a word about it to any living soul. Apparently forgetting the wives whom he had already sacrificed, Henry was thus coolly preparing, at the very time when he was himself about to go down to the grave, to add another victim to the hecatomb.

The queen, although encompassed with deadly enemies who were contriving her ruin, was in a state of perfect calmness, when suddenly there burst upon her one of those heavy squalls which in the twinkling of an eye dash the most powerful vessels against the rocks. The chancellor, contented with his triumph, but at the same time agitated, snatched up the paper which, now bearing the king’s signature, ensured the death of the queen. Vehement passions sometimes distract men and produce absence of mind. In this case it appears that Wriothesley carelessly thrust the paper into his bosom, and dropped it while crossing one of the apartments of the palace.[457] A pious woman of the court, happening to pass that way shortly afterwards, saw the paper and picked it up. Perceiving at the first glance its importance she took it immediately to the queen. Catherine opened it, read the articles with fear and trembling, and[292] as soon as she saw Henry’s signature, was struck as by a thunderbolt, and fell into a frightful agony. Her features were completely changed: she uttered loud cries, and seemed to be in her death-struggle. She too, then, was to lay down her life on the scaffold. All her attentions, all her devotion to the king, had availed nothing; she must undergo the common lot of the wives of Henry VIII. She bewailed her fate, and struggled against it. At other times she had glimpses of her own faults and uttered reproaches against herself, and then her distress and her lamentations increased. Those of her ladies who were present could hardly bear the sight of so woful a state; and, trembling themselves, and supposing that the queen was about to be put to death, they were unable to offer her consolation. The remembrance of this harrowing scene was never effaced from their minds.[458]

Some one brought word to the king that the queen was in terrible distress, and that her life seemed to be in danger.[459] A feeling of compassion was awakened in him, and he sent to her immediately the physicians who were with him. They, finding Catherine in this extremity, endeavored to bring her to herself, and gradually she recovered her senses. The physician to whom Henry had revealed Gardiner’s project,[460] discovering from some words uttered by the queen that the conspiracy was the cause of her anxiety, requested leave to speak to her in private. He told her that he was risking his life by thus speaking to her, but that his conscience would not allow him to take part in the shedding of innocent blood. He therefore confirmed the foreboding of danger which was impending over her; but added that if she henceforward[293] endeavored to behave with humble submission to his majesty, she would regain, he did not doubt, his pardon and his favor.

These words were not enough to deliver Catherine from her disquietude. Her danger was not concealed from the king; and, unable to endure the thought that she might die of grief, he had himself carried into her room. At the sight of the king Catherine rallied sufficiently to explain to him the despair into which she was thrown by the belief that he had totally abandoned her. Henry then spoke to her as an affectionate husband, and comforted her with gentle words; and this poor heart, till then agitated like a stormy sea, gradually became calm again.

The king could now forget the faults of the queen; but the queen herself did not forget them. She understood that she had habitually assumed a higher position than belonged to a wife, and that the king was entitled to an assurance that this state of things should be changed. After supper the next evening, therefore, Catherine rose and, taking with her only her sister, Lady Herbert on whom she leaned, and Lady Jane, who carried a light before her, went to the king’s bed-chamber. When the three ladies were introduced, Henry was seated and speaking with several gentlemen who stood round him. He received the queen very courteously, and of his own accord, contrary to his usual practice, began to talk with her about religion, as if there was one point on which he wished for further information from the queen. She replied discreetly and as the circumstances required. She then added meekly and in a serious and respectful tone,—’Your Majesty doth right well know, neither I myself am ignorant, what great imperfection and weakness by our first creation is allotted unto us women, to be ordained and appointed as inferior and subject unto man as our head; from which head all our direction ought to proceed. And that as God made man in his[294] own shape and likeness, whereby he being endued with more special gifts of perfection, might rather be stirred to the contemplation of heavenly things and to the earnest endeavor to obey his commandments, even so also made he woman of man, of whom and by whom she is to be governed, commanded and directed…. Your majesty being so excellent in gifts and ornaments of wisdom, and I a silly poor woman, so much inferior in all respects of nature unto you, how then cometh it now to pass that your majesty in such diffuse causes of religion will seem to require my judgment? Which when I have uttered and said what I can, yet must I, will I, refer my judgment … to your majesty’s wisdom, as my only anchor, supreme head and governor here in earth, next unto God, to lean unto.’ ‘Not so by St. Mary,’ said the king; ‘you are become a doctor, Kate, to instruct (as we take it), and not to be instructed or directed by us.’ ‘If your majesty take it so,’ replied the queen, ‘then hath your majesty very much mistaken me, who have been of the opinion, to think it very unseemly and preposterous for the woman to take upon her the office of an instructor or teacher to her lord and husband, but rather to learn of her husband and be taught by him. And whereas I have, with your majesty’s leave, heretofore been bold to hold talk with your majesty, wherein sometimes in opinions there hath seemed some difference, I have not done it so much to maintain opinion, as I did it rather to minister talk, not only to the end your majesty might with less grief pass over this painful time of your infirmity,[461] being attentive to our talk, and hoping that your majesty should reap some ease thereby; but also that I, hearing your majesty’s learned discourse, might receive to myself some profit thereby; wherein I assure your majesty, I have not missed any part of my desire in that behalf, always refer[295]ring myself in all such matters unto your majesty, as by ordinance of nature it is convenient for me to do.’ ‘And is it even so?’ answered the king; ‘and tended your arguments to no worse end? Then perfect friends we are now again, as ever at any time heretofore.’ Then, as if to seal this promise, Henry, who was sitting in his chair, embraced the queen and kissed her. He added: ‘It does me more good at this time to hear the words of your mouth, than if I had heard present news of a hundred thousand pounds in money had fallen unto me.’ Lavishing on Catherine tokens of his affection and his happiness, he promised her that such misapprehensions with regard to her should never arise again. Then, resuming general conversation, he talked on various interesting subjects with the queen and with the lords who were present, until the night was advanced; when he gave the signal for their departure. There may possibly have been somewhat of exaggeration in Catherine’s words. She had not been altogether so submissive a learner as she said; but she felt the imperative necessity of entirely dispersing the clouds which the ill-will of her enemies had gathered over the king’s mind, and it is not to be doubted that in saying what she did she uttered her inmost thought.

Meanwhile the queen’s enemies, who had no suspicion of the turn things were taking, gave their orders and made their preparations for the great work of the morrow, which was to confine Catherine in the Tower. The day was fine, and the king wishing to take an airing went in the afternoon into the park, accompanied only by two of the gentlemen of his bed-chamber. He sent an invitation to the queen to bear him company; and Catherine immediately arrived, attended by her three favorite ladies in waiting. Conversation began, but they did not talk of theology. Never had the king appeared more amiable; and his good humor inspired the rest with cheerfulness. In his conversation there was all the liveliness of a frank[296] communicative disposition, and the mirth, it seems, was even noisy.[462] Suddenly, forty halberds were seen gleaming through the park trees. The lord chancellor was at the head of the men, and forty bodyguards followed him. He was coming to arrest the queen and her three ladies and to conduct them to the Tower. The king, breaking off the conversation which entertained him so pleasantly, glanced sternly at the chancellor, and stepping a little aside called him to him. The chancellor knelt down and addressed to the king, in a low voice, some words which Catherine could not understand. She heard only that Henry replied to him in insulting terms, ‘Fool, madman, arrant knave!’ At the same time he commanded the chancellor to be gone. Wriothesley and his followers disappeared. Such was the end of the conspiracy formed against the king’s Protestant wife by Wriothesley, Gardiner, and their friends. Henry then rejoined the queen. His features still reflected his excitement and anger; but as he approached her he tried to assume an air of serenity. She had not clearly understood what was the subject of conversation between the king and the chancellor; but the king’s words had startled her. She received him gracefully and sought to excuse Wriothesley, saying: ‘Albeit I know not what just cause your majesty has at this time to be offended with him, yet I think that ignorance, not will, was the cause of his error; and so I beseech your majesty (if the cause be not very heinous), at my humble suit to take it.’ ‘Ah, poor soul!’ said the king, ‘thou little knowest how evil he deserveth this grace at thy hands.'[463]



(1546-JANUARY, 1547.)

Weighty consequences followed the miscarriage of the conspiracy formed against the queen. It had been aimed at the queen and the Reformation; but it turned against Roman Catholicism and its leaders. The proverb was again fulfilled,—’Whoso diggeth a pit shall fall therein.’ The wind changed; Romanism suffered an eclipse, it was no longer illumined by the sun of royalty. The first to fall into disgrace with Henry VIII. was, as we have seen, Wriothesley. The king displayed his coolness in various ways. The chancellor, disquieted and alarmed for his own pecuniary interests, was annoyed to see preparations for establishing a new Court of Augmentations, by which his privileges and emoluments would be lessened. He earnestly entreated the king that it might not be established in his time. ‘I shall have cause,’ he wrote, on October 16, ‘to be sorry in my heart during my life, if the favor of my gracious master shall so fail, that partly in respect of his poor servant he do not somewhat of his clemency temper it. Thus I make an end, praying God long to preserve his Majesty.'[464] In spite of all his efforts, he lost the royal favor, and the new court which he so much dreaded was erected.

A still heavier blow fell upon Gardiner. After the reconciliation between Henry and Catherine, he was obliged to abstain from making his appearance at the court.[465] On December 2, he wrote to the king: ‘I am so bold to molest your Majesty with these very letters, which be only to desire your Highness, of your accustomed goodness[298] and clemency, to be my good and gracious lord, and to continue such opinion of me as I have ever trusted and, by manifold benefits, certainly known your Majesty to have had of me … declare mine inward rejoice of your Highness’ favor, and that I would not willingly offend your Majesty for no worldly thing.’ This man, at other times so strong, now saw before him nothing but disgrace and became excessively fearful. He might be overtaken by a long series of penalties. Who could tell whether Henry, like Ahasuerus of old, would not inflict upon the accuser the fate which he had designed for the accused? The bishop, restless, wrote to Paget, secretary of state: ‘I hear no specialty of the king’s majesty’s miscontentment in this matter of lands, but confusedly that my doings should not be well taken.'[466] No answer to either of these two letters is extant. Towards the end of December, the king excluded Gardiner from the number of his executors and from the council of regency under his successor, Edward; and this involved a heavy loss of honor, money, and influence. Henry felt that for the guardianship of his son and of his realm, he must make his choice between Cranmer and Gardiner. Cranmer was selected. It was in vain that Sir Antony Browne appealed to him, and requested him to reinstate the bishop of Winchester in this office. ‘If he be left among you,’ said the king, ‘he would only sow trouble and division. Don’t speak of it.’ The conspiracy against the queen was not the sole, although it was the determining, cause of Gardiner’s disgrace.[467]

This, however, was but the beginning of the storm. The first lord of the realm and his family were about to be attacked. If Henry no longer struck to the right, he struck to the left; but he dealt his blows without intermission; in one thing he was ever consistent, cruelty.

In addition to the suffering caused by his disease, the[299] king was oppressed by anxiety at the thought of the ambition and rebellion which might snatch the crown from his son and create disturbances in the kingdom after his death. The court was at this time divided into two parties. One of these was headed by the duke of Norfolk, who, owing to his position as chief of the ancient family of the Howards, allied even to the blood royal, was next to the king the most influential man in England. He had long been lord treasurer, and had rendered signal services to the crown. Opposed to this party was that of the Seymours, who had not hitherto played any great part, but who now, as uncles to the young prince, found themselves continually advancing in esteem and authority. Norfolk was the chief of the Catholic party; and a great number of evangelical Christians had been burnt while he was at the head of the government. His son, the earl of Surrey, was likewise attached to the doctrines of the Middle Ages, and was even suspected of having associated in Italy with Cardinal Pole. The Seymours, on the other hand, had always shown themselves friendly to the Reformation; and while Norfolk supported Gardiner, they supported Cranmer. It appeared inevitable that, after the king’s death, war would break out between these chiefs, and what would happen then? The more Henry’s strength declined, the more numerous became the partisans of the Seymours. The sun was rising for the uncles of the young prince, and was setting for Norfolk. The duke, perceiving this, made advances to the Seymours. He would have liked his son to marry the daughter of the earl of Hertford, and his daughter, widow of the duke of Richmond, the natural son of the king, to marry Sir Thomas Seymour. But neither Surrey nor the duchess were disposed to the match. There was therefore nothing to expect but a vigorous conflict; and the king chose that the victory of the one party and the defeat of the other should be determined in his lifetime and through[300] his intervention. To which of the two parties would the king give the preference? He had always leaned for support upon Norfolk, and the religious views of this old servant were his own. Would he separate from him at this critical moment? After having from the first resisted the Reformation, would he, on the brink of the grave, give it the victory? The past had belonged to Roman Catholicism; should the future belong to the Gospel? Should his death belie his whole life? The infamous conspiracy formed against the queen by the Catholic party would not have been enough to induce the king to adopt so strange a resolution. A circumstance of another kind occurred to determine his course.

At the beginning of December, 1546, Sir Richard Southwell, who was afterwards a member of the privy council under Queen Mary, gave the king a warning that the powerful family of the Howards would expose his son to great danger. Before the birth of Edward, Norfolk had been designated as one of the claimants of the crown. His eldest son was a young man of great intelligence, high spirit and indomitable courage, and excelled in military exercises. To these qualifications he added the polish of a courtier, fine taste and an ardent love for the fine arts; his contemporaries were charmed by his poems; and he was looked upon as the flower of the English nobility. These brilliant endowments formed a snare for him. ‘His head,’ people said to the king, ‘is filled with ambitious projects.’ He had borne the arms of Edward the Confessor in the first quarter, which the king alone had the right to do; if, it was added, he has refused the hand of the daughter of the earl of Hertford, it is because he aspires to that of the princess Mary; and if he should marry her after the death of the king, prince Edward will lose the crown.

The king ordered his chancellor to investigate the charges against the duke of Norfolk and his son, the[301] earl of Surrey; and Wriothesley ere long presented to him a paper, in the form of questions, in his (Wriothesley’s) own handwriting. The king read it attentively, pen in hand, hardly able to repress his anger, and underlined with a trembling hand those passages which appeared to him the most important. The following sentences are specimens of what he read:—

‘If a man coming of the collateral line to the heir of the crown, who ought not to bear the arms of England but on the second quarter … do presume … to bear them in the first quarter, … how this man’s intent is to be judged….

‘If a man compassing with himself to govern the realm do actually go about to rule the king, and should for that purpose advise his daughter or sister to become his harlot, thinking thereby to bring it to pass … what this importeth.

‘If a man say these words,—If the king die, who should have the rule of the prince but my father or I? what it importeth.'[468]

On Saturday, December 12, the duke and the earl were separately arrested and taken to the Tower, one by land, the other by the river, neither of them being aware that the other was suffering the same fate. The king had often shown himself very hasty in a matter of this kind; but in this case he was more so than usual. He had not long to live, and he desired that these two great lords should go before him to the grave. The same evening the king sent Sir Richard Southwell, Sir John Gate, and Wymound Carew to Kenninghall, in Norfolk, a principal seat of the family, about eighty miles from London. They travelled as swiftly as they could, and arrived at the mansion by daybreak on Tuesday. They had orders to examine the members of the family, and to affix seals to the effects.


The Howard family, unhappily for itself, was deeply divided. The duchess of Norfolk, daughter of the duke of Buckingham, an irritable and passionate woman, had been separated from her husband since 1553, and apparently not without reason. She said of one of the ladies who were in attendance on her, Elizabeth Holland,—’This woman is the cause of all my unhappiness.’ There was a certain coolness between the earl of Surrey and his sister, the duchess of Richmond, probably because the latter leaned to the side of the Reformation. Surrey had also had a quarrel with his father, and he was hardly yet reconciled to him. A house divided against itself will not stand. The members of the family, therefore, accused each other; the duchess, it may be believed, did not spare her husband, and the duke called his son a fool. When Sir Richard Southwell and his two companions arrived at Kenninghall on Tuesday morning, they caused all the doors to be securely closed so that no one might escape; and after having taken some evidence of the almoner, they requested to see the duchess of Richmond, the only member of the family then at the mansion, and Mistress Elizabeth Holland, who passed for the duke’s favorite. These ladies had only just risen from their beds, and were not ready to make their appearance. However, when they heard that the king’s envoys requested to see them, they betook themselves as quickly as possible to the dining-room. Sir John Gate and his friends informed them that the duke and the earl had just been committed to the Tower. The duchess, deeply moved at this startling news, trembled and almost fainted away.[469] She gradually recovered herself, and kneeling down humbled herself as though she were in the king’s presence. She said: ‘Although nature constrains me sore to love my father, whom I have ever[303] thought to be a true and faithful subject, and also to desire the well-doing of his son, my natural brother, whom I note to be a rash man, yet for my part I would nor will hide or conceal any thing from his Majesty’s knowledge, specially if it be of weight.’ The king’s agent searched the house of the duchess of Richmond, inspected her cabinets and her coffers, but they found nothing tending to compromise her. They found no jewels, for she had parted with her own to pay her debts. Next, they visited Elizabeth Holland’s room, where they found much gold, many pearls, rings and precious stones; and of these they sent a list to the king. They laid aside the books and manuscripts of the duke; and the next day by their direction the duchess of Richmond and Mistress Holland set out for London, where they were to be examined.

Mistress Holland was examined first. She deposed that the duke had said to her ‘that the king was sickly, and could not long endure; and the realm like to be in an ill case through diversity of opinions.’ The duchess of Richmond deposed ‘that the duke her father would have had her marry Sir Thomas Seymour, brother to the earl of Hertford, which her brother also desired, wishing her withal to endear herself so into the king’s favor, as she might the better rule here as others had done; and that she refused.'[470] This deposition appears to corroborate one of the charges brought against Norfolk by the chancellor. Nevertheless, the supposition that a father, from ambitious motives, could urge his daughter to consent to incestuous intercourse is so revolting, that one can hardly help asking whether there really was any thing more in the case than an exercise of the natural influence of a daughter-in-law over her father-in-law. The duchess corroborated the accusation touching the royal arms borne by Surrey, his hatred of the Seymours, and the ill which he meditated doing them after the[304] king’s death; and she added that he had urged her not to carry too far the reading of the Holy Scriptures.

Various other depositions having been taken, the duke and his son were declared guilty of high treason (January 7). On the 13th, Surrey was tried before a jury at Guildhall. He defended himself with much spirit; but he was condemned to death; and this young nobleman, only thirty years of age, the idol of his countrymen, was executed on Tower Hill, January 21.[471] Public feeling was shocked by this act of cruelty, and every one extolled the high qualities of the earl. His sister, the duchess of Richmond, took charge of his five children, and admirably fulfilled her duty as their aunt.[472]

The king was now dangerously ill, but he showed no signs of tenderness. People said that he had never hated nor ruined any one by halves; and he was determined, after the death of the eldest son, to sacrifice the father. Norfolk was very much surprised to find himself a prisoner in the Tower, to which he had consigned so many prisoners. He wrote to the lords to let him have some books, for he said that unless he could read he fell asleep. He asked also for a confessor, as he was desirous of receiving his Creator; and for permission to hear mass and to walk outside his apartment in the daytime. At the age of seventy-three, after having taken the lead in the most cruel measures of the reign of Henry VIII., from the death of Anne Boleyn to the death of Anne Askew, he now found that the day of terror was approaching for himself. His heart was agitated and fear chilled him. He knew the king too well to have any hope that the great and numerous services which he had rendered to him would avail to arrest the sword already suspended[305] over his head. Meanwhile the prospect of death alarmed him; and in his distress he wrote from his prison in the Tower to his royal master:—’Most gracious and merciful sovereign lord, I, your most humble subject, prostrate at your foot, do most humbly beseech you to be my good and gracious lord…. In all my life I never thought one untrue thought against you or your succession, nor can no more judge or cast in my mind what should be laid to my charge than the child that was born this night…. I know not that I have offended any man… unless it were such as are angry with me for being quick against such as have been accused for sacramentaries.’ And fancying that he detected the secret motive of his trial, he added: ‘Let me recover your gracious favor, with taking of me all the lands and goods I have, or as much thereof as pleaseth your Highness.'[473]

The charges brought against Norfolk and Surrey were mere pretexts. No notice having been taken of the letter just cited, the old man, who was anxious by any means to save his life, determined to humble himself still further. On January 12, nine days before the death of Surrey, in the hope of satisfying the king, he made, in the presence of the members of the privy council, the following confession:—’I, Thomas, duke of Norfolk, do confess and acknowledge myself… to have offended the king’s most excellent majesty, in the disclosing… of his privy and secret counsel… to the great peril of his Highness…. That I have concealed high treason, in keeping secret the false and traitorous act… committed by my son… against the king’s majesty… in the putting and using the arms of Edward the Confessor,… in his scutcheon or arms…. Also, that to the peril, slander, and disinherison of the king’s majesty and his noble son, Prince Edward, I have… borne in the first quarter of my arms … the arms of England…. Al[306]though I be not worthy to have … the king’s clemency and mercy to be extended to me,… yet with a most sorrowful and repentant heart do beseech his Highness to have mercy, pity, and compassion on me.'[474]

All was fruitless; Norfolk must die like the best servants and friends of the king, like Fisher, Sir Thomas More, and Cromwell. But the duke could not be condemned with so little formality as Surrey. The king, therefore, assembled the parliament; a bill was presented to the House of Lords, and the three readings were hurried through on January 18, 19, 20. The bill, sent down to the Commons, was passed by them, and was sent back on the 24th. Although it was customary to reserve the final step to the close of the session, the king, who was in haste, gave his assent on Thursday the 27th, and the execution of Norfolk was fixed for the morning of the next day. All the preparations for this last act were made during the night; and but a few moments were to intervene before this once powerful man was to be led to the scaffold.

Two victims were now awaiting the remorseless scythe of destiny. Death was approaching at the same time the threshold of the palace and that of the prison. Two men who had filled the world with their renown, who during their lifetime had been closely united, and were the foremost personages of the realm, were about to pass the inexorable gates and to be bound with those bonds which God alone can burst. The only question was which of the two would be the first to receive the final stroke. The general expectation was, no doubt, that Norfolk would be the first, for the executioner was already sharpening the axe which was to smite him.

While the duke, still full of vigorous life, was awaiting in his dungeon the cruel death which he had striven so much to avert, Henry VIII. was prostrate on his sick bed at Whitehall. Although every thing showed that his last[307] hour was at hand, his physicians did not venture to inform him of it; as it was against the law for any one to speak of the death of the king. One might have said that he was determined to have himself declared immortal by act of parliament. At length, however, Sir Antony Denny, who hardly ever left him, took courage and, approaching the bedside of the dying monarch, cautiously told him that all hope, humanly speaking, was lost, and entreated him to prepare for death. The king, conscious of his failing strength, accused himself of various offences, but added that the grace of God could forgive him all his sins. It has been asserted that he did really repent of his errors. ‘Several English gentlemen,’ says Thevet, ‘assured me that he was truly repentant, and among other things, on account of the injury and crime committed against the said queen (Anne Boleyn).'[475] This is not certain; but we know that Denny, glad to hear him speak of his sins, asked him whether he did not wish to see some ecclesiastic. ‘If I see any one,’ said Henry, ‘it must be Archbishop Cranmer.’ ‘Shall I send for him?’ said Denny. The king replied: ‘I will first take a little sleep, and then, as I feel myself, I will advise upon the matter.’ An hour or two later the king awoke, and finding that he was now weaker, he asked for Cranmer. The archbishop was at Croydon; and when he arrived the dying man was unable to speak, and was almost unconscious. However, when he saw the primate, he stretched out his hand, but could not utter a word. The archbishop exhorted him to put all his trust in Christ and to implore his mercy. ‘Give some token with your eyes or hand,’ he said, ‘that you trust in the Lord.’ The king wrung Cranmer’s hand as hard as he could, and soon after breathed his last. He died at two o’clock in the morning, Friday, January 28, 1547.[476]


By Henry’s death Norfolk’s life was saved. The new government declined to begin the new reign by putting to death the foremost peer of England. Norfolk lived for eight years longer. He spent, indeed, the greater part of it in prison; but for more than a year he was at liberty, and died at last at Kenninghall.

Henry died at the age of fifty-six years. It is no easy task to sketch the character of a prince whose principal feature was inconsistency. Moreover, as Lord Herbert of Cherbury said, his history is his best portrait. The epoch in which he lived was that of a resurrection of the human mind. Literature and the arts, political liberty, and evangelical faith were now coming forth from the tomb and returning to life. The human mind, since the outburst of bright light which then illumined it, has sometimes given itself up, it must be confessed, to strange errors; but it has never again fallen into its old sleep. There were some kings, such as Henry VIII. and Francis I., who took an interest in the revival of letters; but the greater number were alarmed at the revival of freedom and of faith, and instead of welcoming tried to stifle them. Some authors, and particularly Fox, have asserted that if death had not prevented him, Henry VIII. would have so securely established the Reformation as not to leave a single mass in the kingdom. This is nothing more than a hypothesis, and it appears to us a very doubtful one. The king had made his will two years before his death, when he was setting out for the war with France. In it, his chief object was to regulate the order of succession and the composition of the council of regency; but at the same time it contains positive signs of scholastic Catholicism. In this document the king says: ‘We do instantly desire and require the blessed Virgin Mary His mother, with all the holy company of heaven, continually to pray for us and with us while we live in this world, and in time of passing out of the same.’


Moreover, he ordained that the dean and canons of the chapel royal, Windsor, and their successors forever, should have two priests to say masses at the altar.[477] The will was rewritten on December 13, 1546; and the members of the Privy Council signed it as witnesses. But the only change which the king introduced was the omission of Gardiner’s name among the members of the council of regency. The passages respecting the Virgin and masses for his soul were retained.

Henry had brought into the world with him remarkable capacities, and these had been improved by education. He has been praised for his application to the business of the State, for his wonderful cleverness, his rare eloquence, his high courage. He has been looked upon as a Mæcenas, and pronounced a great prince. His abilities certainly give him a place above the average of kings. He regularly attended the council, corresponded with his ambassadors, and took much pains. In politics he had some clear views; he caused the Bible to be printed; but the moral sentiment is shocked when he is held up as a model. The two most conspicuous features of his character were pride and sensuality; and by these vices he was driven to most blameworthy actions, and even to crimes. Pride led him to make himself head of the church, to claim the right to regulate the faith of his subjects, and to punish cruelly those who had the audacity to hold any other opinions on matters of religion than his own. The Reformation, of which he is assumed to be the author, was hardly a pseudo-reform; we might rather see in it another species of deformation. Claiming autocracy in matters of faith, he naturally claimed the same in matters of state. All the duties of his subjects were summed up by him in the one word obedience; and those who refused to bow the head to his despotic rule were almost sure to lose it. He was cov[310]etous, prodigal, capricious, suspicious; not only was he fickle in his friendships, but on many occasions he did not hesitate to take his victims from amongst his best friends. His treatment of his wives, and especially of Anne Boleyn, condemns him as a man; his bloody persecutions of the evangelicals condemn him as a Christian; the scandalous servility which he endeavored, and not unsuccessfully, to engraft in the nobles, the bishops, the house of commons and the people, condemn him as a king.






The light of the Gospel had risen upon Europe, and had already pervaded the central and southern portions of this quarter of the world. A new age had begun. The work of the Reformation was not done like that of a council, by articles of discipline; but by the proclamation of a Saviour, living and ever-present in the church; and it thus raised Christendom from its fallen state. To the church in bonds in the rude grasp of the papacy it gave the freedom which is to be found in union with God; and withdrawing men from confessionals and from cells in which they were stifled, it enabled them to breathe a free air under the vault of heaven. At the time of its appearance, the vessel of the church had suffered shipwreck, and the Roman Catholics were tossed about in the midst of traditions, ordinances, canons, constitutions, regulations, decretals, and a thousand human decisions; just as shipwrecked men struggle in the midst of broken masts, parted benches, and scattered oars. The Reformation was the bark of salvation which rescued the unhappy sufferers from the devouring waters, and took them into the ark of the Word of God.

The Reformation did not confine itself to gathering men together, it also gave them a new life. Roman[312] Catholicism is congealed in the forms of the Middle Ages. Destitute of vitality, possessing no fertilizing principle, humanity lay buried in its old grave-clothes. The Reformation was a resurrection. The Gospel imparts a true, pure, and heavenly life, a life which does not grow old, nor fade, nor disappear like that of all created things, but is continually renewed, not indeed by its own efforts, but by the power of God, and knows neither old age nor death. Time was needed for the Gospel, after being buried for ages by the papacy, to throw off all its swaddling-clothes, and resume its free and mighty progress; but its advance was made by an impulse from on high. After having restored to Europe primitive Christianity, the church which sprang from the Reformation overthrew the ancient superstitions of Asia, and of the whole world, and sent a life-giving breath over the fields of death. Churches everywhere called into existence, assemblies of men abounding in good deeds, these are the testimonies of its fertility. The missionaries of this Gospel, although they lived in poverty, spent their days in obscurity, and often encountered death even in a cruel form, nevertheless accomplished a work more beneficial and more heroic than princes and conquerors have done. Rome herself was moved at the sight of all the stations established, all the Bibles put into circulation, all the schools founded, all the children educated, and all the souls converted.

There is, however, one point on which the papacy imagines that it may claim a triumph, that is, unity; and yet on this very point it fails. Roman Catholics know no other unity than that of the disciples of human science,—of mathematics, for example. Just as all the pupils in a school are agreed about the theorems of Euclid, the papacy requires that all the faithful, who in her opinion ought to be nothing but pupils, should be agreed about the dogmas which she establishes in her councils or in her Vatican retreats. Unity, she says, is[313] the assertion of the same decrees. The Gospel is not satisfied with this scholastic uniformity; it demands a union more intimate, more profound, more vital—at once more human and more divine. It requires that all Christians should ‘be likeminded, having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind;’ a true ‘fellowship of the Spirit;'[478] and this union it founds upon Christ, on the truth—’that there is no salvation in any other,’ and on the fact that all those who are saved have in Him the same righteousness, the same redemption.[479] Christ reveals the divine nature of Christian unity,—’I in them,’ he said, ‘that they may be one as we are one.'[480] This is assuredly something different from the mechanical and scholastic unity of which the Roman doctors make their boast. The unity of the Gospel is not a crystallization like the unity of Rome, it is a movement full of life.

All kinds of human progress date from the Reformation. It produced religious progress by substituting for the forms and the rites which are the essence of Romish religion, a life of communion with God. It produced moral progress by introducing, wherever it was established, the reign of conscience and the sacredness of the domestic hearth. It produced political and social progress by giving to the nations which accepted it, an order and a freedom which other nations in vain strive to attain. It produced progress in philosophy and in science, by showing the unity of these human forms of teaching with the knowledge of God. It produced progress in education, the well-being of communities, the prosperity, riches, and greatness of nations. The Reformation, originating in God, beneficially develops what pertains to man. And if pride and passion sometimes happen to impede its movement, and to thrust within its chariot wheels the clubs of incredulity, it presently[314] breaks them, and pursues its victorious course. Its pace is more or less speedy; various circumstances make it slow or swift; but if at one time it is slackened, at another time it is accelerated. It has been in action for three centuries, and has accomplished more in this time than had been effected in the preceding sixteen centuries. It is upheld by a mighty hand. If the truth which was again brought to light in the sixteenth century should once more be entombed, then the sun being veiled the earth would be covered with darkness; it would no longer be possible to discern the way of salvation; moral force would disappear, freedom would depart, modern civilization would once more sink into barbarism, and humanity, deprived of the only guide competent to lead it on, would go astray and perish hopelessly in the desert.

We have narrated in our early volumes the great achievements of the Reformation in Germany, at Worms, Spire, Augsburg, and elsewhere. While these events were astonishing all Europe, the Spirit of God was gently breathing, souls were silently awakening, churches were forming, and the Christian virtues were springing up afresh in Christendom. What took place at that period was very much like what frequently happens in the world of nature. In the higher regions there are great gales, clouds charged with electricity, thunders, lightnings, and torrents of rain. Then in the lower regions, in the valleys and on the plains, the fields refreshed, reviving, grow green again, ‘and the earth brings forth first the fruit, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear.’

The Reformation had made great progress in Germany. The Word of God everywhere advanced with much power; and the waters which had gushed forth at Wittenberg, spreading around, quenched the thirst of many souls. Believers were found in all classes, but especially among the traders of the towns.


In an island of the Baltic, formed by the two eastern arms of the Oder, and belonging to Pomerania, stands the small town of Wollin, formerly a nest of Danish pirates. Here was born, on June 24, 1485, a man of singular goodness, who became one of the champions of Christian civilization in the sixteenth century, John, son of the councillor Gerard Bugenhagen. He entered in 1502 the university of Greifswald, a town situated on the same sea, and applied himself to the study of languages, the humanities, and also theology. In 1505 he went to Treptow, another town on the Baltic, further eastward, and was appointed rector of the school. He was so successful as a teacher that Bodelwin, abbot of a neighboring convent, invited him to become professor of theology in a college instituted for the teaching of the sciences. Here he expounded the Scriptures, for the most part according to the views of Augustine and Jerome. Priests, monks, and townsmen came to hear him; and although he was not ordained, his friends strongly urged him to preach. This he did, to the great delight of his hearers, among whom were some of noble rank.[481]

‘Alas!’ said Bugenhagen, afterwards, ‘I was still in the strait bonds of pharisaic piety, and I had no true understanding of the Holy Scriptures. We were all so deeply sunk in the doctrine of the pope, that we had not even a wish to know the doctrine of the Word of God.’ There were however desires and longings in his heart; but what he wanted remained as a writing in cipher, of which he was unable to discover the key. It was quite suddenly at last that he found it.

Towards the close of 1520, he dined with some professors and friends at the house of Otto Slutov, one of the patricians of the town and inspector of the church of Treptow. Slutov had just received a copy of Luther’s[316] ‘Babylonish Captivity.’ ‘You must read that,’ he said to Bugenhagen, as he laid the volume upon the table, around which the guests were seated. Availing himself of the invitation, the rector turned over the leaves of the book during dinner-time, and after having read some passages he said aloud to the company present,—’Since the birth of Christ, many heretics have attacked and roundly abused the church; but among them there has not been one more execrable than the man who has written this book.’ He, however, took away the volume by leave of his host, read it and reread it, meditated and deliberately weighed its contents; and at each perusal scales seemed to fall from his eyes. Some days afterwards, finding himself in the same company, he made a confession to them. ‘What shall I say to you? The whole world is blind and plunged in the deepest darkness. This man alone sees the truth.’ He read to his friends page after page, undertook the defence of each paragraph, and brought most of them to the same convictions that he had received himself. J. Kyrich, J. Lorich, the deacon Kettelhut, Abbot Bodelwin and others acknowledged the errors of the papacy, and endeavored to turn people from their superstitions and to make known to them the merits of Jesus Christ. This was the beginning of the Reformation in Pomerania.

Bugenhagen began to read Luther’s other writings; and he was especially charmed with his exposition of the difference between the Law and the Gospel, and of the doctrine of justification by faith. Persecution soon began, instigated by the bishop of Camin. Bugenhagen, who earnestly desired to see the places whence the light had come, betook himself to Wittenberg, arriving there in 1521, shortly before the departure of the reformer to Worms. The Pomeranian was joyfully received by Luther and Melanchthon, who thenceforth usually called him ‘Pomeranus.’ His desire was to be a student, not a teacher; but having begun, in his own room, to explain[317] the Psalms to his countrymen, he did this with so much clearness, such unction and evangelical life, that Melanchthon requested him to give the course publicly. He now became one of the professors of the University, and at the same time pastor of the parish church. He was afterwards (1536) appointed superintendent-general. Melanchthon and Pomeranus completed, each on his special side, the work of Luther. Melanchthon did so in the scientific sphere, by means of his classical culture, and in the political sphere by his discretion. Pomeranus, though undoubtedly inferior to both of them, had great experience and much knowledge of men, and he possessed at the same time gentleness and firmness, abundance of tact and a practical turn of mind, and to all these qualities he added energetic activity. He was thus enabled to render great services in all that related to ecclesiastical organization.[482] There was hardly an important church in whose formation his assistance was not sought. We have already met with him in Denmark.[483]

We have elsewhere seen how the Gospel had been brought to Erfurt by Luther and by Lange, how Frederick Myconius, converted partly by Tetzel’s excesses, had preached the Gospel at Zwickau, and how the word had renovated other towns in connection with Wittenberg. When a friend of Luther, Nicholas Hausmann for instance, was called to some place for the work of the Reformation, and came to ask the great doctor’s advice, the latter answered: ‘If you accept the call, you will make enemies of the pope and the bishops; but if you decline it, you will be the enemy of Christ.’ This was enough to induce them to enter upon the work.[484] The evangelical doctrine had been publicly preached at Frank[318]fort-on-the-Main by Ibach, just after the famous diet of Worms. Assemblies of evangelical deputies had been held there in June, 1530, December, 1531, and May, 1536, and this town had joined the alliance of Smalkalde.

The cities of Lower Saxony were the first to be touched by the light which proceeded from electoral Saxony. Magdeburg, where Luther had been at school and had personal friends, had early shown itself friendly to evangelical principles. One day, an old clothier came and stood at the foot of the monument erected in this town to the illustrious Emperor Otto the Great, in memory of his conquests in the tenth century; and the zealous partisan of the spiritual conqueror of the sixteenth century began to sing one of Luther’s hymns and to sell copies of it. People were at the time coming out of a neighboring church, where mass had been said. Many had received the leaf, but the burgomaster who was passing with others of the faithful had the seller arrested. This caused the fire which was smouldering under the embers to flame forth. The parishioners of St. Ulrich assembled in the cemetery, elected eight good men to undertake the government of the church. The parish of St. John took part in the movement; and all declared that they attached themselves to their sovereign pastor, bishop, and pope, Jesus Christ, and were ready to fight bravely under this glorious captain. On June 23, 1524, the citizens met together in the convent of the Augustines with seven evangelical pastors, and determined to request the Council that nothing but the Word of God should any longer be preached, and that the Lord’s Supper should be administered regularly in both kinds. On July 17, the communion was thus celebrated in all the churches; and the town council, on the 23d of the same month, informed the elector that ‘the immutable and eternal Word of God, hitherto obscured by thick shadows, now shone forth, by God’s mercy, more brightly than the sun, for the salvation of sinners, the happiness[319] of the faithful, and the glory of God.'[485] They requested the elector at the same time to send Amsdorff to them.

Brunswick followed next. The Reformation was introduced into this town chiefly by means of Luther’s hymns, which were sung alike in private houses and in the streets. Incumbents of benefices were in the habit of paying young ecclesiastics to preach in their stead. These deacons, usually called ‘hireling priests’ (Heuer-pfaffen), generally embraced evangelical doctrines, and induced their flocks to do so too. Sometimes one of them would strike up, instead of the hymn to the Virgin Mary, one of these new German hymns, and all the congregation would sing it with him. The clergy endeavored to maintain the Scholastic doctrine; but if the people heard from the lips of their old pastors false quotations from the Holy Scriptures, voices were raised in all directions to correct them. The ecclesiastics in office then summoned to their aid Doctor Sprengel, a preacher highly esteemed in those parts. But at the close of his sermon, a townsman rose and said: ‘Priest, thou liest.’ He then struck up the hymn of Luther beginning—

O Gott vom Himmel sieh darin—

and the whole congregation sang it heartily with him. The old pastors applied to the Council to rid them of these troublesome deacons; but the people, on the other hand, demanded to be rid of their useless pastors.

The Council, after some hesitation, was at length overcome by the evangelical movement, and passed a decree (March 13, 1528) that the pure Word of God alone should be preached at Brunswick. ‘Christ grant that his glory[320] may increase!'[486] said Luther when he heard the news. At the same time the Council begged the Elector of Saxony to send Pomeranus, who, accordingly, on May 12, proceeded to Brunswick, to the great joy of all the people. So admirably did he execute the task of organization that the Brunswickers entreated the Elector to allow him to remain with them a year longer. But Luther assured the prince, September 18, 1528, that the doctor could not possibly be longer spared. ‘Wittenberg,’ he added, ‘is at this time of more importance than three Brunswicks!'[487] This was a moderate assertion; Luther might have said more. For the church of Brunswick Pomeranus drew up ordinances on schools, preaching, the church festivals, baptism, the Lord’s Supper, and discipline. Sin was to be punished, but not the sinner. He prepared similar constitutions for various great towns in North Germany. The mendicant monks now left Brunswick, and the Reformation was established.

The assistance of Luther and Melanchthon was soon after sought by a more important town. The Gospel had made its way into Hamburg; but the priests and especially the Dominican Renssburg opposed it with all their might. The citizens required of the Council (April 21, 1528) that the preachers should be examined according to the Holy Scriptures, and that all those who were found not to be in agreement with them should be dismissed. Next day, a conference between the two parties was held, in the presence of the senate and a commission of the townsmen. But Renssburg spoke in Latin, in order that the laity might not understand him. As the Roman Catholics put forward exclusively the authority[321] of the Church, five of their number were banished from the town; and some of the most influential of the townsmen felt it necessary to escort them, lest the populace should do them any injury. Pomeranus was at this time called to Hamburg, to organize the evangelical church; and when the Council further applied for an extension of the time of his sojourn, Luther on this occasion supported their request. Hamburg was for him undoubtedly a place of greater importance than Brunswick. But the town made very large demands. On May 12, 1529, Luther wrote to the Elector: ‘The Hamburgers would fain have Pomeranus stay with them forever.'[488] Now, new students were daily arriving at Wittenberg, and the faculty could not dispense with the services of Pomeranus. Luther therefore entreated the Elector to recall him, and declared himself willing to persuade the Council and the University to do the same. For Hamburg also Pomeranus drew up an ecclesiastical ordinance.

At Lübeck a powerful and compact party, composed of the clergy, the Council, the nobles, and the principal men of business, resisted the Reformation, the doctrines of which were steadily gaining ground among the townsmen. A psalm in German having been sung by the domestic servants in some house, the whole family was punished, and Luther’s sermons were burnt in the market-place in 1528. Two evangelical ministers, Wilhelmi and Wahlhof, were expelled. A certain priest, John Rode, preached that Christ had redeemed only the fathers of the Old Testament, and that all who were born after him must obtain their salvation by their own merits. People used to go about singing to him,—

Celui qui doit nous mener au bercail, Nous fait, hélas! tous tomber dans la fosse.


At a great meeting of the townsfolk, those who meant to remain Catholics were bidden to go apart. Only one person stirred from his place. The Council was in want of money and demanded it of the townsmen, who in reply demanded religious liberty. In 1529 the banished ministers were recalled. In 1530 the Catholic preachers had to evacuate all the pulpits; and in 1531 Pomeranus gave the town an ecclesiastical ordinance.[489]



The Reformation met with difficulties in the principality of Anhalt, but the young princes who now ruled the two duchies of which the principality consisted, had had a pious mother, and the seed which her hand had sown in their hearts overcame all obstacles. One of the princes, Wolfgang, had held intercourse with Luther as early as 1522 and had, as we have seen, most willingly signed the Confession of Augsburg.[490] The other three, however, had not followed his example. John, on the contrary, had signed the Compromise of Augsburg, and it was not easy for him to draw back. Surrounded by powerful neighbors entirely devoted to Rome, the elector of Brandenburg, Duke George of Saxony, and the archbishop elector of Mentz, it seemed scarcely possible for them to extricate themselves from the net. Joachim was of a feeble and gloomy temper. Moreover, Prince George[323] was an ecclesiastic at the age of eleven, a canon of Merseburg since 1524, and provost of the chapter of Magdeburg, and seemed to be called to the highest offices of the church. He was born at Dessau in 1501. From his childhood he had shown a strong attachment to church ceremonies and to the traditions of the fathers; and the doctrines of Luther were afterwards depicted to him in the blackest colors. ‘This man,’ they told him, ‘proscribes good books, authorizes bad ones, and abolishes all the holy ordinances. All his followers are Donatists and Wickliffites.’ He was henceforth a vehement opponent of a system which, according to his judgment, was destructive of Christianity. When the ministers of Magdeburg attempted to win over the members of the Chapter to the Reformation, he roughly rebuked them. As he was an honest man and was desirous of qualifying himself to contend against the errors of the Protestants, he began to search for arguments in the Holy Scriptures and in the fathers of the church, but it was not possible for him to find any. On the contrary, he was utterly astonished to find that Holy Scripture was opposed to many of the established customs of the church; and that in what was called the new doctrine there were many articles which were found in the Bible, and which had been held by the fathers. His mother, although she continued in the church and counselled her sons not to violate its unity, had believed that she was saved by grace alone, and had with special emphasis professed this faith at the time of her death. George had embraced this faith at an early age; and the bishop of Merseburg had confirmed him in it by rebuking one day a preacher who had exalted human merits, and to whom he had said energetically: ‘Not a single living man is righteous.’ He repeated the words three times in the presence of George; and now George found the doctrine distinctly asserted in the sacred writings. He wondered within himself whether it could be on this account that[324] the friends of Rome spoke of the Bible as a heretical book and forbade people to read it. But at other times recognizing in it this truth, of which God had kept alive a spark in his heart,[491] he was not a little alarmed, for he saw that it was the very doctrine of Luther. ‘I see,’ he said to himself, ‘that the fathers very much praised the Holy Scriptures, considered them the foundation, and would have no other.’ And now the doctors of the church refuse to test their teaching by Scripture! He therefore put to some of them the question on what basis the doctrines of the church were made to rest; and they could not tell him. He observed at the same time, in many of those who defended abuses, spiteful passions, injustice, and calumny; and honest George was at a loss what to think about it. He fell into a deep melancholy, a state of restlessness and distress of mind which nothing could relieve.[492] ‘On the one hand,’ said he, ‘I see the building threatening to fall; on the other I see troubles, disagreements, and the revolt of the peasants.’ Luther had indeed opposed this revolt; but, for all that, the prince was terrified and in great distress. ‘What shall I do? Which side must I take? God grant that I may determine to do only that which is right, and resolve not to act against my own conscience.’ He was haunted by these thoughts day and night. At a later time he said: ‘How many a night have I been agitated and depressed, suffering unutterable heaviness of heart. Something dreadful appeared before me; He knows, from whom nothing is concealed. My whole being shuddered. How often this passage came into my mind,—”The sword without, and terrors within.” I could do nothing else but cry unto God, as a poor sinner who supplicates his grace.’


In 1530 he received a copy of the Confession of Augsburg, which Wolfgang had signed. He had up to this time read very little the writings of the reformers; and he found that the evangelical doctrine, as set forth in this document, was entirely different from what had been told him. The fundamental doctrines of the apostolical churches were clearly asserted in it, and the ancient heresies were convincingly refuted. The refutation of the Protestant Confession drawn up by the Roman doctors disgusted him. He now began to read the works of Luther, and was struck by the fact that the author exhorted men to good works, although he would have no one place confidence in them. He found, indeed, that Luther was sometimes rather fiery; ‘but,’ said he, ‘so are Jeremiah, Isaiah, Ezekiel and other prophets.’ He found that the Gospel of Christ was again in the pulpits. He recollected that his mother had one day said to him with sorrow,—’How is it that our preachers, when they have to speak of the Gospel of Christ, do so with less warmth than the new ministers?’ And he thought within himself,—’While the poor people to whom the cowl of St. Francis, satisfaction, and their own merits are recommended, die wretchedly, those who are now directed to Jesus Christ leave this world with joyful hearts.’

Ere long this prince, who was subsequently known as George the Pious, showed himself zealous for the truth, and gained over his brothers John and Joachim to the Gospel. On Holy Thursday, 1532, when a Dominican who preached at Dessau had vigorously contended against the practice of administering the Supper in both kinds, George dismissed him. The three brothers now gave complete freedom to the Reformation. Duke George of Saxony took care to warn them that they would draw upon themselves the Emperor’s displeasure, and that George would not attain to the high honors which he had had reason to hope for. But all this was ineffectual. Towards the close of the summer, Luther[326] wrote to the princes in the following terms: ‘I have heard, illustrious princes, that by the power of the Spirit of Christ an end has been put in your dominions to impious abuses, and that you have introduced the practices of Christian communion, not without exposing yourselves to great danger and to the threats of powerful princes. I give God thanks that He has imparted to the three brothers the same spirit and the same strength. Christ, the “weak” king, is in truth and forever the king almighty, and such are the works which he accomplishes. He acts, he lives, he speaks, both in himself and in his members. The beginnings of every work of God are weak, but the results are invincibly strong. The roots of all trees are at first mere slender filaments, or rather a sort of pulp which solidifies; nevertheless from them are produced those huge trees, those oaks, of which are constructed vast buildings, ships and machines.[493] Every work of God begins in weakness and is completed in strength. It is otherwise with the works of men.’ On September 14, Luther sent his friend Hausmann to the princes as pastor, ‘a man who loves the Word of God and teaches it with discretion.’ Prince George, on the ground of his ecclesiastical offices, considered himself to be invested with a legitimate authority in the church of his own dominions. Luther calls him ‘right reverend bishop.’ When he heard how much George had to suffer ‘on the part of Satan, the world, and the flesh,’ and that machinations of all kinds were set on foot for attacking him, he made haste to fortify him, writing to him as follows:—’Christ himself hath said—”Be of good comfort, I have overcome the world.” If the world be overcome, so likewise is the prince of the world; for when a kingdom is conquered the king also is conquered. And if the prince of this world be con[327]quered, all that proceeds from him shares his defeat,—fury, wrath, sin, death, hell, and all the arms in which he confidently trusted. Glory be to God, who hath given us the victory.'[494]

Prince Joachim, a feebler man than George, found himself assailed by powerful princes who exerted themselves to turn him away from the Gospel, and his resolution was shaken. Luther therefore endeavored to strengthen him. ‘Let your Highness but call to mind,’ said he, ‘that Christ and His word are higher, greater, and surer than a hundred thousand fathers, councils, and popes, whom the Scriptures call sinners and sheep gone astray. Let your Highness then be full of courage. Christ is greater than all devils and all princes.'[495] A year later, Luther, understanding that Joachim had fallen into a state of melancholy, wrote several letters to him. ‘A young man like you,’ he wrote to him, ‘ought to be always cheerful. I counsel you to ride on horseback, to hunt, to seek for pleasant society in which you may piously and honorably enjoy yourself. Solitude and melancholy are penalties and death for all, but especially for a young man. God commands us to be joyful. “Rejoice,” says the Preacher, “rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth.”‘[496]

On March 16, 1534, a meeting was held of all the ecclesiastics of the principality of Anhalt; when, in spite of the opposition of the archbishop, they were ordered to celebrate the Lord’s Supper, according to the institution of Christ. Prince George appointed to the livings men who had studied at Wittenberg, and sent his candidates to Luther for examination and consecration.

The country, which takes its name from the ancient castle of Anhalt, the walls of which are still to be seen[328] in the forest of Harzegerode, was one of those in which the Reformation was most peacefully carried out.

We have elsewhere treated of the reformation of Bremen, of Augsburg, and of Würtemberg. Pomerania was not yet reformed, although Pomeranus, the reformer to whom it had given birth, took so prominent a part in the work in many towns and countries. The duke, Bogislas, and the bishop of Camin were resolutely opposed to the Reformation; but here and there amongst the townsmen were ardent aspirations towards the Gospel; and occasionally, likewise, there were excesses and destruction of images. The clergy and the nobles were on the side of the pope; the towns were for the Bible; and the two camps were almost at war. The duke on his travels, in 1523, passed through Wittenberg, and the bishop of Camin, as curious as the duke, appears to have accompanied him. The reformer in his sermon spoke, amongst other things, of the carelessness and luxury of bishops. The duke smiled and looked at his companion.[497] Bogislas sent for Luther, conversed with him in a friendly manner, and said: ‘I should like for once to confess to you.’ ‘I am quite willing,’ said the reformer; ‘my only fear is that as your Highness is a great prince, you are also a great sinner.’ The duke made frank reply that this was only too true. The duke felt also the influence of his son, the young prince Barnim, who had studied at Wittenberg from 1518 to 1521, and who had attended the disputation at Leipsic in 1519. His brother George, on the other hand, brought up at the court of Duke George of Saxony, had there imbibed a hatred of the Gospel. After the death of Bogislas, these two princes became leaders of the two opposing parties. Barnim sent word to the allies of Smalcalde—’What my brother builds up, I shall cast down.’ The mother of George appeared friendly to his purpose; and her son[329] Philip having come to an understanding with Barnim, a diet was convoked, in 1533, at Treptow. The towns laid before it a scheme of reformation, which was well received; and Pomeranus was summoned to settle the new order of things. The nobility, however, and the clergy, particularly the bishop of Camin, still energetically opposed the evangelical work.

The conflict was severe in Westphalia.[498] Evangelical truth was well received in some places. Children used to sing Luther’s hymns at the doors of houses; the members of a family would sing them by the fireside; the most fearless ventured to do the same in the open air, at first in the evening twilight, and then in the daytime. At length some ministers arrived. Monks and nuns were now seen quitting their convents and embracing the Gospel. At other places, as for instance at Lemgo, the pastor, at first stoutly opposed, would set out for some reformed town in order to see how matters were going on there, and on his return would reform his own church. But in some districts violent resistance was offered. At Soest, a conflict took place between a victim and the executioner. The latter having made an ineffectual stroke and inflicted only a severe wound, the victim, a robust man of the lower class, snatched away the weapon, repulsed the executioner and his assistant, and was carried off in triumph by the crowd to his own house, where, however, he died on the following day, of the blow which he had received.

In other places a struggle between cruelty and humanity took place among the persecutors, and on some occasions humanity triumphed. At Paderborn, a town in which Charlemagne held several diets and where many Saxons were baptized, the community without asking leave of higher authorities had opened the churches to evangelical preaching. Hermann, elector of Cologne, who subsequently entertained very different views, being[330] named administrator of the bishopric, arrived in the town attended by guards and by influential men of the country who were devoted to the papacy. Appealed to by these men, by the chapter, and by the council which implored him to punish the illegal proceedings of the townsfolk, he allowed at first things to take their course. The people were, however, called together in the garden of a convent at which the elector was staying. They were told that he was desirous of taking a gracious leave of them. The townsfolk arrived; but they suddenly found themselves encompassed by armed men, and the leaders of the evangelical party were seized and cast into prison. They were put to the torture; they were led out to the scaffold, around which the people were gathered, and the approaches to which were covered with gravel intended to absorb the blood of the victims, and there sentence of death was read to these honest and pious citizens. Nothing now remained but to behead them. The chief executioner came forward and, turning to Hermann and all the dignitaries around him, said: ‘These men are innocent, I would sooner die than behead them.’ At the same time a voice was heard from the midst of the crowd; it was that of an aged man who came forward with difficulty, leaning on his staff. ‘I also am guilty like those you have condemned, and I ask to be put to death with them.’ The wives and daughters of the prisoners had assembled in a neighboring house. The door now opened, and they approached, some smiting themselves on the breast, others with dishevelled[499] hair; they cast themselves at the feet of the elector and entreated pardon for these innocent men. Hermann, who was not cruel, could not refrain from tears, and he[331] granted the pardon which was sought at his hands. Nevertheless, the evangelical doctrine was prohibited in the town. The people were even forbidden to engage domestic servants who came from places where the new doctrine was professed.[500]

We have elsewhere seen how some countries and towns more or less recently reformed, had felt the need of union after the decree of the diet of Augsburg, of 1530, and had formed at Smalcalde, March 29, 1531, an alliance for six years, by which they engaged to defend each other.[501] Under these circumstances, and considering that the Sultan Solyman was advancing towards Austria with an immense army, the Emperor had determined to treat with the Protestants, and the religious peace of Nürnberg was concluded, July 23, 1532. The leaguers of Smalcalde, nevertheless, were still subject to molestation, for various reasons, by the tribunals of the Empire. The landgrave of Hesse, by a bold measure, re-established the Protestant duke, Ulrich of Würtemberg, in his dominions, thus opening them to the Reformation and increasing the power of the League of Smalcalde.[502]



Unfortunately, there was going on at this time a fanatical movement, which the Roman Catholics were fain to turn to account against the Reformation, but which in truth furnished no ground of reproach against it;[332] for the attitude of the Reformation towards the fanatics was chiefly one of resistance and suppression. When after a long winter the springtide comes again, it is not only the good seed which grows up, but weeds too appear in abundance. It could not happen otherwise in this new springtide of the church, which is called the Reformation. The mightiest power of the Middle Ages—the Papacy—was assailed. In place of the opinions which it had professed and imposed on the world for centuries, the reformers presented evangelical doctrine. It was easy to understand that not all who rejected the views of the Roman pontiffs would accept those of the reformers, but that many would invent or adopt others.

There was a diversity of doctrines, and sometimes, even within the limits of a single party, all manner of opinions. This was the case with the so-called Spirituals, who have been erroneously named Anabaptists, for opposition to infant baptism, so far from being their distinctive doctrine, was hardly their badge. They held in general the power for good of the natural will (free-will). Haetzer denied the divinity of Christ, and led a bad life. Many of them said, ‘Christ took nothing of human nature from his mother, for the Adamic nature is accursed.’ There were some who looked upon the observance of Sunday as an antichristian practice. These fanatics fancied themselves alone to be the children of God, and like the Israelites of old believed that they were called to exterminate the wicked. One of this sect, Melchior Hoffmann, after being in turn in kings’ courts and in ignominious imprisonment, went into Alsace, supposing that at Strasburg the new Jerusalem was to come down from heaven, and that from this town would go forth the messengers charged to gather together God’s elect. Almost all of them expected that the end of the world was very near at hand, and some even fixed the day and the hour.

These fanatics, in consequence of the persecution to[333] which they were subjected in South Germany, in Switzerland, and in Holland, turned their steps towards the regions bordering on the Rhine, where more freedom was to be enjoyed, and where the Reformation was not yet thoroughly organized. Munster, in Westphalia, was a strong town, fortified with a citadel, and the seat of a bishop, with a cathedral, and a numerous body of clergy. Near the town stood a church dedicated to St. Maurice; here a false reformer preached a false reformation. This preacher was one Bernard Rottmann, a fiery man, eloquent and daring, who had to some extent apprehended the reformed doctrine, but whose heart remained unaffected by it. As he used to deliver fine discourses, the townspeople flocked to hear him; and at length requested that he should be called into Munster. Some influential men among the Roman Catholics, acquainted with the man, and anxious to avoid any disturbance, offered him money to go away.[503] Rottmann accepted the money and took his departure, thus giving the measure of his faith and zeal. He then visited several towns and universities in Germany, but made no stay anywhere, and in the course of a few months returned to Munster. Some of the citizens and the populace, who were very fond of listening to his declamation, joyfully welcomed him; but the bishop and the clergy were opposed to his preaching in the churches. His partisans now set up a pulpit for him in the market-place, and his hearers increased in number daily. Two pastors from Hesse, taking Rottmann for a minister of good standing, joined him, and drew up a statement of the errors of Rome in thirty-one articles, and submitted it to the council. The priests were then assembled at the town-hall, and the council laid the document before them. ‘This is indeed our doctrine,’ they said, ‘but we are not prepared to defend it.’ They were consequently deprived. The bishop, who had quitted[334] Munster, resolved to cut off the supply of food to the town—a measure not exactly within a pastor’s function, whose call is to feed his flock. The townsmen, provoked, arrested most of the canons and the priests and imprisoned them; and it was arranged in 1533, that evangelical doctrine should be preached in the six churches of the town, and that the old abuses should be no longer allowed except in the cathedral.[504]

Among the most respected inhabitants of Munster was the syndic Wiggers, whose wife, continually followed by a host of admirers, was a person of doubtful character. She had a great admiration for Rottmann, and, clever woman as she was, knew how to captivate him. Her husband died shortly afterwards, and the rumor was spread that she had poisoned him.[505] This is, however, uncertain. Whatever the fact may be, Rottmann married her, and thus showed again, that although he was a preacher of the Gospel, he did not practise it. Honorable men now withdrew from his society. This circumstance, with others, drove him to take an extreme course.

In 1533 a very large number of enthusiasts from the Netherlands arrived at Munster. One of these, Stapreda, from Meurs, became Rottmann’s colleague, and preached vigorously their particular doctrines.[506] Rottmann, abandoned by his old friends, threw himself into the arms of these new ones, and strongly advocated their views. Great alarm was excited in Hesse. Hermann Busch, of Marburg, came to Munster to oppose the fanatics, and in consequence of a dispute between him and Rottmann the adherents of the latter received orders to leave the town. They concealed themselves for a time and then reappeared. The pastor Fabritius, sent to[335] Munster by the landgrave of Hesse, who was growing more and more alarmed, earnestly exhorted the senate and the people to be steadfast in sound doctrine. But one of the visionaries, pretending to be led by divine inspiration, went about the town towards the end of December, 1533, exclaiming: ‘Repent ye and be baptized, or the wrath of God will destroy you.'[507] Ignorant men were filled with terror and hastened to obey.

At the beginning of 1534, the strength of the party was augmented by the arrival of some famous recruits. On January 13 two men made their entrance into Munster, strangely apparelled, with an air of enthusiasm in their countenances and in their actions, and honored by the visionaries as their leaders. These were a prophet and an apostle; the former, John Matthisson, a baker from Haarlem, the latter, John Bockhold, a tailor from Leyden.[508] Bockhold had made his journeyman’s tour, had run over Germany, and also, it was said, had visited Lisbon. On returning to his native land, he had taken a shop at Leyden, near the gate which leads to the Hague. The working men who rallied round the prophet had in general very little relish for work. This youthful tailor, for example, felt it very irksome to sit all day with his legs crossed, threading needles and sewing pieces of stuff and buttons. General tradition represents Bockhold as a tailor, but it is stated by some writers that he was a cloth-merchant. His father held some office in the magistracy at the Hague; but his mother, a native of Westphalia, belonged to the servant class. However this may be, he gave up his shop, and took, in conjunction with his wife, a public-house for the sale of beer and other drinks; and here he led a gay and even a dissolute life. The new tavern-keeper had not read much, but he had a certain amount of education and a good address. He[336] was keen, crafty, ambitious, daring, eloquent, and full of animation.[509] There were at this time in most of the towns in the Netherlands, and particularly at Leyden, poetical societies; and John Bockhold was ambitious to shine as an orator. He made speeches which were remarkable for fluency and copiousness of diction. He even composed comedies and acted in them. He took part in the conversations, and caught the spirit of opposition to the church which prevailed in these assemblies. He made acquaintance with some of the enthusiasts; was fascinated by the notion of a new kingdom in which they were to be leading men; and thought that he should be able to find there better than elsewhere a great part to play himself. Matthisson, as we have stated, chose Bockhold for one of his apostles.

At the time of the arrival of these two men, there was living at Munster a notable townsman named Bernard Knipperdolling. This man having been in Sweden had associated with some of the enthusiasts of that country. He was now eager to receive into his house two persons already so famous. The latter set to work without delay. Their wish was to make Munster the capital of the sect, and with a view to this they made use of all means calculated to gain over men’s minds. By their figure, their unusual attire, their fervor, their eloquence, and their enthusiasm, they produced a powerful impression. These men were bold, but also shrewd, and sought to propitiate every body. Bockhold succeeded even in gaining access to the evangelical ministers. He spoke to them at first in the pure language of the Gospel; then he asked one or another, what he thought of this or that point on which the visionaries had peculiar views. If their answers were not such as he required, or if passages of Scripture were noted in support of their opinions, he would smile, and sometimes shrug his shoulders. It was[337] not long before his friends and he openly proclaimed the new kingdom of which they were the fore-runners. But the evangelical ministers implored the people to remain faithful to pure doctrine and to maintain it against the fanatics.[510]

Women were the first to believe in that earthly and heavenly kingdom which was thus proclaimed, and which was flattering at the same time to their senses and their understanding. First some nuns, then some women of the middle class, and afterwards men embraced the doctrines published by Bockhold. Rottmann, who by his wrong-doing had forfeited the good opinion of the evangelicals, now threw himself into the arms of the new party, which received him most favorably; and he began to preach with his utmost eloquence the fantastic kingdom of the visionaries. The crowd that flocked to listen to his sermons was immense, and to hear, people said, was to be converted. The report became current that he possessed a secret charm, of such sovereign power that all persons on whom he chose to practise it were immediately enchanted and bound to the sect. It was the charm of novelty, of pride, and of error. Women, who joined the party, sharply rebuked the burgomaster because he was friendly to Fabritius, the pious evangelical minister from Hesse, who declined to become a convert to the new kingdom. Working men wanted to be reputed masters. A blacksmith’s boy began to preach the new Gospel; and when the council ordered him to be imprisoned, all his comrades assembled and compelled the magistrate to release him.

A collision between the two parties seemed inevitable. On February 8 (1534), the enthusiasts, believing themselves strong enough, took up arms and suddenly seized the great square; the evangelicals remaining masters of the walls and the gates of the city. The latter were the[338] stronger party, and many talked of making an attack with artillery upon the fanatical multitude and of expelling the intruders from the town. While the most prudent men were engaged in deliberation, the illuminés had the strangest visions. ‘I see,’ said one, ‘a man with a golden crown; in one hand he holds a sword, in the other a rod.’ Many declared that ‘the town was filled with ruddy-brown flames, and that the horseman of the Apocalypse, mounted on a white horse, was advancing, conquering and to conquer.’ The good pastor Fabritius, whom they had scandalously insulted, pleaded on behalf of them. He entreated that the mad ones should be leniently dealt with. In other quarters it was expected that there would be a vigorous resistance and great slaughter. Men of conciliatory disposition would fain avoid shedding the blood of their fellow-citizens; and some were afraid that the bishop, who was near with his troops, would take advantage of the conflict to get possession of the town.[511] Two proposals were made to the visionaries; liberty secured to both sides in matters of religion, but submission to the magistrates in civil matters. This was a victory for the enthusiasts; they were triumphant, and ‘their countenances,’ says one of themselves, ‘became of a magnificent color.'[512]

This was, indeed, the beginning of their kingdom. They now summoned their adepts to Munster from all quarters, and these came in crowds, especially from Holland. The period for the election of the Council having arrived (February 20, 1534), not one of the former magistrates was re-elected. Some working men, who pretended to be illuminated by the Spirit, superseded them and distributed all offices among their own friends. Knipperdolling was named burgomaster. A few days[339] later (February 27) there was held at the town-hall a great meeting of the Christians, as they called themselves. The prophet Matthisson remained for some time motionless, and seemed to be asleep. Suddenly he rose and exclaimed: ‘Drive away the children of Esau (the Evangelicals); the inheritance belongs to the children of Jacob.’ The streets were at the time almost impassable in consequence of a storm of wind with rain and snow; but the enthusiasts dashed into the midst of it, impetuously rushing about, and crying out with all their might, ‘Wicked ones, begone!’ They forcibly entered people’s houses, and expelled from them all who would not join their party. All the magistrates, the nobles, and the canons who were still in the town, were compelled to leave it; the poor likewise. The unfortunate city presented at this time the most mournful spectacle. Mothers, in terror, would snatch up their children half-naked in their arms and go away pale and trembling from their abodes, carrying with them nothing but some beverage to refresh the poor little ones on the way. Young lads with a scared look, holding in their hands a bit of bread which their school-masters had given them to comfort them or to allay their hunger, went side by side with their parents, with bare feet, through the snow; and old men, leaning on their staffs, quitted the town at a slow pace. But on reaching the gates, the wanderers were searched; from the mothers the fanatics took away the beverage intended for their young children, from the lads the bread which they were carrying to their mouths, and from the old men the last small coins which they had taken up at the moment of their departure,[513] and then they drove them all out of the town. They went forth at hap-hazard, not knowing whither they were to[340] go, having nothing to eat or to drink, and deprived of the pitiful savings of a long and laborious life.[514] The prophet Matthisson had at first intended that all those who did not accept the new kingdom should be put to death. But they did them the favor of only banishing them, pillaged, however, and almost naked, taking from them their coats if they happened to be good,[515] and then drove them away, crying out, ‘Wicked! Pagans!’

The new community was now organized; and Matthisson ere long exercised over it supreme authority. Prophets who gave themselves out for inspired did not wait for the millennial kingdom, or for the resurrection of the dead, or for the advent of the Saviour. They were quite equal, they thought, to their task. They despised knowledge. They prohibited all intercourse with the pagans, that is to say, the evangelicals. Those who received the new baptism indispensable for admission into their imaginary kingdom, and they alone, were saints. Marriages previously solemnized were annulled; laws were abolished on the ground that they were opposed to liberty. All distinctions of rank were suppressed; community of goods was established; and all the property of those who were banished was thrown into a common fund. At the same time, seeing that their first duty was to break with a corrupt world, that irreconcilable enemy of the saints, orders were given to destroy all those evil things of which the men of the world made use. Images, organs, painted windows, clocks, seats adorned with sculptures, musical instruments, and other things of a similar kind, were removed into the market-place, and there solemnly broken to pieces. The masterpieces of the painters of the Westphalian school were not spared. Books and manuscripts, even the rarest, were some of[341] them burnt and others thrown upon dunghills.[516] This was all done, they declared, by divine inspiration. People were at the same time ordered to deliver up all gold, silver, jewels, ornaments, and other precious things. Property was superseded by communism; and any one who failed to bring these superfluities to the public office was put to death. The leading fanatics divided among themselves the fine houses of the canons, the patricians, and the senators, and settled in them in plenty and comfort. A large number of adventurers in quest of fortune, and of fanatics who coveted the good things of the world more than they acknowledged, arrived at Munster from Holland and the neighboring countries. They looked upon it as a fine opportunity, and were eager to have a share of the spoil, and ready enough to lay hands on a large portion of it. To each handicraft some special duty was assigned. The tailors for example, were charged to see that no new form of dress was introduced into the community. These people made it a matter of as much moment to avoid the fashion as other people did to follow it.

Meanwhile, the main business was the defence of the town. Young lads even were in training for this task, and not without good reason; for in the month of May, 1531, the bishop of Munster invested the episcopal city. He, however, made no progress; for the town, admirably fortified, was situated on a plain, and there was no rising ground in its neighborhood on which the besiegers could establish themselves. Some of the soldiers who were taken prisoners in the sorties were beheaded by order of the prophets; and their heads were set up on the walls, to show their comrades what fate awaited them.[517]

The prophet Matthisson, who had at least the virtue of courage, was killed in an attack made by the besieged.[342] Bockhold took his place. He was not so brave, but was more ambitious than his predecessor, and applied himself to the organizing of this strange community. The magistrates were nominated by Rottmann the preacher and Bockhold the prophet. Their decrees were executed by Knipperdolling. This man had authority to put to death, without form of trial, any one who was detected in violating the new laws. For this purpose he was always accompanied by four satellites, each carrying a drawn sword; and thus attended he paraded the streets, at a slow pace, and with a penetrating glance which spread terror all around.



It was not long before the new king gave the rein to his passions. Munster became the scene of the grossest debaucheries and the most revolting cruelties. Fanaticism is usually accompanied by immorality, and with faith morality is thrown overboard. Bockhold, not contented with Matthisson’s office, wanted also to have his wife, the beautiful Divara. He was already married, but that was of no consequence. He began to preach polygamy, adducing the examples of the Old Testament, but passing by what the New says, that God in the beginning ordained the union of one man with one woman, an institution confirmed and sanctioned by the Saviour. This scandalous proceeding was at first opposed by several members of the community, and there was even an evangelical reaction. At the head of the gainsayers was a blacksmith. Some of the prophets were arrested, and[343] there was talk of recalling the exiles. The evangelical party seemed to be on the point of revival; but the enthusiasts were the stronger party, and their opponents were shot or beheaded.

The prophets became more numerous. A working goldsmith, named Tausendschur, pretended to great revelations. Urged on, no doubt, by Bockhold, he called together the whole body of the saints, and said,—’The will and the commandment of the Father who is in heaven is that John of Leyden should have the empire of the whole world, that he should go forth from the town with a powerful army, that he should put to death indiscriminately all princes and kings, and that destroying all the wicked he should take possession of the throne of David his father.'[518] Bockhold, who was present, at first kept silent, and appeared to know nothing of this revelation. But when Tausendschur had finished, the Leyden tailor fell on his knees, and said that ten days before the same things had been revealed to him, but that he had refrained from announcing them, lest he should seem desirous of the sovereignty. At length, he said, he submitted to the will of God, applying to himself this saying of Ezekiel,—’David my servant shall be their king, and he shall make an everlasting covenant with them.’ He therefore declared himself ready to undertake the conquest of the world. This scheme was, doubtless, on his part, a mere piece of trickery, but it abundantly served his ambition. The madmen and fools who believed in it, voluntarily submitted to the man who was to be king of the universe; and the hope of occupying the chief places in this universal kingdom filled them with zeal for the support of Bockhold. Even if there were any doubters, they knew that the impostor would not hesitate to cut off their heads, if that should be necessary for the establishment of his empire. Bock[344]hold, whose mother was a serf of Westphalia, assumed in the capital of this province the pomp and attire of a king. He surrounded himself with a court composed of a large number of officers and magistrates. The churches were pillaged; and the king and his ministers decked themselves with the silk vestments enriched with gold and silver which they took out of the churches, from the officiating ministers and from the most wealthy citizens.[519] He had a seal made, representing the world with two swords which pierced it through and through. This he hung about his neck on a gold chain adorned with precious stones, as a symbol of his power. He bore a golden sword with a silver hilt; and on his head he had a triple crown made of the finest gold. To all this ostentation the ex-journeyman, now a king, added debauchery. Besides Divara, who was his queen, he took fifteen wives, all under twenty years of age, and he declared that he would have three hundred.[520] His queen and these young girls he attired magnificently. Each of his apostles and other adherents also had several wives. He considered it necessary to keep his followers in a state of drunkenness, to prevent them from foreseeing the catastrophe which was impending over them. He assumed the title of king of the new temple, and rode about the town invested with the insignia of his office, and escorted by his guards. All who met him were obliged to fall on their knees. Three times a week he made his appearance in the public square, and sat upon a lofty throne, a sceptre in his hand and a crown upon his head, and surrounded by a body of his satellites. In this position he delivered his judgments. Knipperdolling, one step below him, with a drawn sword in his hand, held himself in readiness to execute them. Whosoever wished to[345] bring any matter before him was compelled to fall on his knees twice in approaching the throne, and then to prostrate himself with his face to the ground.

In October there was a great religious festival, which Bockhold called the Lord’s Supper. A table of 4,200 covers was prepared for men and women. The king, the queen, and their principal officers, served on the occasion. Bockhold perceiving a stranger in the crowd ordered him to be arrested and brought before him. ‘Wherefore,’ said he, ‘hast thou not on a wedding garment?’ He pretended to believe that the man was a Judas, and ordered him to be expelled; then going out himself, he beheaded him with his own hands. He then re-entered, exulting and smiling at this exploit.[521]

When the repast was over, he asked if they were all ready to do the will of God. ‘All,’ they replied. ‘Well, then,’ said the king, ‘this will is that some of you should go forth to make known the wonderful things which God has done for us.’ He forthwith nominated six of them to go to Osnabruck, and the same number to go to various other towns in the neighborhood. He gave to each of them a piece of gold of the value of nine florins and a viaticum. On the same evening these apostles quitted Munster; and on their arrival at the towns which had been assigned to them, they made their entrance, filling the air with horrible outcries. ‘Be converted,’ they said, as they went along the streets; ‘repent! The time which God in his mercy leaves you is short. The axe is laid at the root of the tree. If you do not receive peace, your town will soon be destroyed.’ Next, presenting themselves to the assembled senate, they spread their cloaks upon the ground, threw down their pieces of gold,[522] and said,—’We proclaim peace to you; if you receive it bring hither what you possess and place it[346] with this gold. Our king will ere long have conquered the whole world and subdued it to righteousness.’ Those envoys who had been despatched to the towns belonging to the bishop of Munster were at first favorably received; but presently they were all arrested, and several were put to the torture. Not one of them, however, would acknowledge himself in error. ‘We wait for new troops from Friesland and from Holland, and then,’ repeated they, ‘the king will go forth and will subdue the whole earth.’ They suffered the extreme penalty of the law, as men guilty of sedition.

The king encountered difficulties not only in the neighboring towns, but likewise in his own capital, and even in his harem. There was at Munster a woman of great courage and determination, who boasted that no man should ever marry her. John of Leyden commanded that she should be carried off and placed in the number of his wives; but the woman, with her independence of character, finding the morals and the manners of this harem intolerable, made her escape. This was in the king’s eyes a very great crime. He therefore had her arrested, conducted her himself to the great square, cut off her head with his own hand, and then, filled with wrath and vengeance, trampled her body in the dust. Bockhold had ordered that all his other wives should be present at this hateful scene, and had directed them to sing a hymn of praise after the execution. These unhappy creatures did, accordingly, strike up their song in the presence of the mutilated and desecrated body of their companion.[523]




The landgrave Philip of Hesse having, meanwhile, entered Westphalia with the troops which had just made the conquest of Würtemberg, Munster was soon so completely invested that nothing, and especially no food supplies, could any longer enter the town. The dearth became more and more severe, and the miserable people were driven to have recourse for sustenance to the most unaccustomed food. They ate the flesh of horses, dogs and cats, dormice, grass, and leather; they tore up books and devoured the parchment. Half the population of the town, it was said, died of starvation. These fanatics had trusted in the word of their king and prophet, and had awaited with confidence the succor which he promised them; but, as this succor did not arrive, murmurs began to be heard from some of them, and others appeared to go mad. Bockhold had told them that, if it were necessary for saving his people, ‘the stones would be turned into bread.’ Consequently, some of these votaries might be seen stopping in the streets, biting the stones and attempting to tear them to pieces, in expectation of their being converted into nourishment.[524] At length despair, madness, and inhumanity proceeded to the bitterest extremities. The wife of the senator Menken, one of the working men raised to this dignity by Bockhold, killed her three children, salted their bodies, and placed the parts thus cured in jars, in this way mak[348]ing abominable provision for her own subsistence, and on this she fed day by day.[525] The wretched inhabitants of this ill-fated town wandered with tottering steps about the streets, the skin wrinkled over their fleshless bones, their necks long and lank, hardly able to sustain the head, their eyes haggard and opening and shutting with sudden jerk, their cheeks hollow and emaciated, with lips which death seemed to be about to close, corpses in appearance rather than living beings. In the midst of this appalling spectacle which recalls the greatest distresses recorded in history, even the destruction of Jerusalem, there was, it is said, in the king’s palace abundance, feasting, and debauchery.[526]

The enthusiasts, during this time, were causing much trouble in Holland; but they did not succeed in bringing help to their brethren. At the beginning of 1535 a certain number of them proposed to burn Leyden; fifteen were arrested and beheaded. In February others ran naked about the streets of Amsterdam by night, crying out, ‘Woe! woe! woe!’ They also were executed. Near Franeker, in Friesland, three hundred of them assembled and took possession of a convent; but they were all put to death. Bockhold, impatient to get the succor of which he was in sore need, delegated Jan van Geelen, a clever, crafty man, to stir up a revolt in Holland, and to return to his aid with an army which should raise the siege of Munster, and help him to conquer the world. Jan van Geelen, by a feigned renunciation of his errors, obtained a pardon from Queen Mary. Having entered Holland, he was able secretly to attract a large number of followers; and in a short time he conceived the[349] project of surprising Amsterdam by night. He did, in fact, get possession of the town-hall; but the townsmen, aroused by the tocsin, drove away the fanatics with cannon-shot, not without suffering great losses themselves, particularly in the death of a burgomaster. The rebels were cruelly treated. Many of them were stretched upon butchers’ blocks, had their hearts torn out, and were then quartered. On all these occasions a certain number of women were, as usual, drowned.[527]

These successive defeats made an impression on Bockhold and his partisans. They lost all hope of aid from Holland. The landgrave, Philip of Hesse, one of the most powerful chiefs of Protestantism, had brought up his forces to put an end to the scandals of Munster. The bishop of this city, impelled by the desire to reconquer it, had assembled for the purpose some Roman Catholic soldiers. One of Bockhold’s men escaped from the town and pointed out the way to capture it.[528] In the night of June 24, 1535, two hundred lansquenets cleared the foss and scaled the wall at a point where it was very low. They were no sooner within the town, than they uttered cries and beat the drum. The men of the king of Zion leaped out of their beds and ran to arms. The conflict began and was for a moment doubtful; but one of the city gates having been opened from within, the army of the besiegers entered and the fight became terrible. A hundred and fifty horse or foot soldiers lost their lives. On the side of the besieged many also fell, and amongst others Rottmann who, resolved not to suffer the disgrace of captivity, threw himself with intrepidity into the midst of the fire and perished. The king and two of his principal counsellors, Knipperdolling and the pastor Crechting, made their escape and hid themselves in a strong tower, where they hoped to escape the notice of the conquer[350]ors.[529] But the soldiers penetrated into their place of concealment, dragged them out and made them prisoners. Bockhold at first braved it out, and assuming the air of a king spoke arrogantly to the bishop. Two theologians of Hesse endeavored to bring him to repentance; but he obstinately held to his opinion, admitting no superior to himself on earth. Reflection, however, wrought a change. Bockhold was not a fanatic, but an impostor; and he felt that the only way to save his life was to abjure his errors. He asked for a second conference with the two Hessians and feigned conversion. ‘I confess,’ he said to them, ‘that the resistance I have offered to authority was unlawful; that the institution of polygamy was rash, and that the baptism of children is obligatory. If pardon should be granted me, I pledge myself to obtain from all my adherents obedience and submission.’ He likewise acknowledged that he had deserved to die ten times over. This was the behavior of a knave, willing to abandon even his imposture, if, by so doing, he might save his life. Knipperdolling and Crechting, on the contrary, persisted in their views, and asserted that they had followed the guidance of God. Cruelty of various kinds was inflicted on these wretched men. They were led about publicly, during the month of their detention, like strange animals, as a spectacle to the several princes and their courts, to whom they and their pretended king were made a subject of ridicule.[530] Bockhold did not derive from his confessions the advantage which he expected. The three leaders were all sentenced to the same punishment, the penalty of high treason to a supreme head. This took place in February, 1536. In the barbarous period of the Middle Ages imagination had been racked for the invention of the most cruel punishments. These three wretches were conducted to[351] the great square of Munster, where Bockhold, as king, had borne the sceptre and the triple crown, and his executive minister Knipperdolling the sword. They were then laid out naked; and their bodies were plucked to pieces with hot pincers, until at length, amidst hideous tortures, pincers, fire, sword and excruciating sufferings had put an end to their life.[531] This process lasted an hour. Cochlæus himself exclaims,—’Cruel, horrible punishment! a terrible example to all rebels!’ Knipperdolling and Crechting bore with courage the frightful infliction, and Bockhold, apparently recovering good sense, was determined not to die the death of a coward. Not a groan escaped him. After he had breathed his last they pierced his heart with a dagger.

It was Philip of Hesse and his soldiers of the reformed party who chiefly contributed to put an end to the disorders and cruelties of which Munster had been the scene. The only result of this episode for Protestantism was to demonstrate that it had no connection with the fanaticism of these would-be inspired ones. Protestant opinion was on this occasion distinguished by various characteristic features. Its intention was that punishment should be inflicted not for the religious doctrine of the enthusiasts, but only for their rebellion and other ordinary crimes. There have been, indeed, and there are especially at the present time a large number of pious and zealous Christians who advocate adult baptism; and we are bound to respect them although we do not share their views. Moreover the baptism practised by the enthusiasts of Munster, was not that of the sect of Baptists; it was a proceeding which denoted adhesion to the fanatical system the triumph of which they pretended to insure, a ceremony such as is adopted in many secret societies. The essential characteristics of their system[352] were their alleged visions, their unquestionable licentiousness, the confusion which they brought upon the institutions of social life, their tyranny and their cruelty.

Various opinions were entertained as to the punishment which ought to be inflicted on them. Luther by a letter expressed clearly and briefly what he thought on the subject. He was not greatly troubled. ‘It does not disturb me much,’ he said; ‘Satan is in a rage, but the Scripture stands fast.'[532] The landgrave Philip was always an advocate of the most lenient measures; he had no desire that the punishment of death should be inflicted upon them, as had been done in other countries. He consented only to their being imprisoned; and he insisted that they should be instructed. The evangelical towns of Upper Germany acted upon the same principle and refused to stain their hands with the blood of these unhappy men. But it was decreed by a majority of the Germanic Diet, that all enthusiasts who persisted in their false doctrines should be put to death. Thus were confounded, as it has been said, two things as remote from each other as heaven and earth, evangelical doctrine and the confusion introduced into churches and states by these fanatics. The unfortunate men were put to death, whether they were visionaries or not; and not only were culpable disorders put down with a strong hand, but evangelical doctrine was also banished from Munster.[533]

Three causes especially contributed to bring about these hideous disorders of the fanatics. First, the bloody persecutions carried on by Charles V. in the Netherlands against all those who desired to worship God according to their conscience; next, the doctrines of the enthusiasts,[353] mingled sometimes with immorality, which Tanchelme of Antwerp, Simon of Tournay, Amalric of Bena, the Turlupines, the Pseudo-Cathari, and the Brethren of the Free Spirit, had for centuries professed in different countries, and especially in the Netherlands and on the banks of the Rhine, and which had lately been revived there by emissaries from Germany; and finally, the need for a change in the social order felt at this period by the least industrious and most fanciful men of the lower orders, and especially of the class of artisans.

After the terrible catastrophe which put an end to the kingdom of Zion, there still remained, undoubtedly, some enthusiasts and libertines, particularly David Joris. But many of them settled down and returned to more wholesome doctrines. One of these, Ubbo of Leuwarden, had been consecrated bishop of the new sect and had in turn consecrated others, Menno Simonis in particular. Ubbo made public confession of his error; ‘I have been miserably mistaken,’ he said, ‘and I shall lament it as long as I live.'[534]

We have narrated the horrible episode of Munster, and we have exhibited it like one of those placards which we have sometimes met with in the Alps, nailed to a post near an abyss, on which were to be read such words as these,—’Traveller, beware! any one approaching falls and rolls over, and hurled from rock to rock, is dashed to pieces and killed, the sad victim of his rashness.’

(The night of the 18th February, 1546, at Eisleben.)

Luther had throughout his life refused the aid of the secular arm, as his desire was that the truth should triumph only by the power of God. However, in 1546, in spite of his efforts, war was on the point of breaking out,[354] and it was the will of God that his servant should be spared this painful spectacle.

The Counts of Mansfeld, within whose territories he was born, having become involved in a quarrel with their subjects and with several Lords of the neighborhood, had recourse to the mediation of the reformer. The old man—he was now sixty-three—was subject to frequent attacks of giddiness, but he never spared himself. He therefore set out, in answer to the call, and reached the territory of the Counts on the 28th of January, accompanied by his friend the theologian Jonas, who had been with him at the Diet of Worms, and by his two sons, Martin and Paul, the former now fifteen, and the latter thirteen, years of age. He was respectfully received by the Counts of Mansfeld, attended by a hundred and twelve horsemen. He entered that town of Eisleben in which he was born, and in which he was about to die. That same evening he was very unwell and was near fainting.

Nevertheless, he took courage and, applying himself zealously to the task, preached four times, attended twenty conferences, received the sacrament twice, and ordained two ministers. Every evening Jonas and Michael Coelius, pastor of Mansfeld, came to wish him good-night. ‘Doctor Jonas, and you Master Michael,’ he said to them, ‘entreat of the Lord to save his church, for the Council of Trent is in great wrath.’

Luther dined regularly with the Counts of Mansfeld. It was evident from his conversation that the Holy Scriptures grew daily in importance in his eyes. ‘Cicero asserts in his letters,’ he said to the Counts two days before his death, ‘that no one can comprehend the science of government who has not occupied for twenty years an important place in the republic. And I for my part tell you that no one has understood the Holy Scriptures who has not governed the churches for a hundred years, with the prophets, the Apostles and Jesus Christ.’ This occurred on the 16th of February. After saying[355] these words he wrote them down in Latin, laid them upon the table and then retired to his room. He had no sooner reached it than he felt that his last hour was near. ‘When I have set my good lords at one,’ he said to those about him, ‘I will return home; I will lie down in my coffin and give my body to the worms.’

The next day, February 17, his weakness increased. The Counts of Mansfeld and the prior of Anhalt, filled with anxiety, came to see him. ‘Pray do not come,’ they said, ‘to the conference.’ He rose and walked up and down the room and exclaimed,—’Here, at Eisleben, I was baptized. Will it be my lot also to die here?’ A little while after he took the sacrament. Many of his friends attended him, and sorrowfully felt that soon they would see him no more. One of them said to him,—’Shall we know each other in the eternal assembly of the blessed? We shall be all so changed!’ ‘Adam,’ replied Luther, ‘had never seen Eve, and yet when he awoke he did not say “Who art thou?” but, “Thou art flesh of my flesh.” By what means did he know that she was taken from his flesh and not from a stone? He knew this because he was filled with the Holy Spirit. So likewise in the heavenly Paradise we shall be filled with the Holy Spirit, and we shall recognize father, mother, and friends better than Adam recognized Eve.’

Having thus spoken, Luther retired into his chamber and, according to his daily custom, even in the winter time, opened his window, looked up to heaven and began to pray. ‘Heavenly Father,’ he said, ‘since in thy great mercy thou hast revealed to me the downfall of the pope, since the day of thy glory is not far off, and since the light of thy Gospel, which is now rising over the earth is to be diffused through the whole world, keep to the end through thy goodness the church of my dear native country; save it from falling, preserve it in the true profession of thy word, and let all men know that it is indeed for thy work that thou hast sent me.’ He then left the[356] window, returned to his friends, and about ten o’clock at night retired to bed. Just as he reached the threshold of his bedroom he stood still and said in Latin, ‘In manus tuas commendo spiritum meum, redemisti me, Deus veritatis!’

The 18th of February, the day of his departure, was now at hand. About one o’clock in the morning, sensible that the chill of death was creeping over him, Luther called Jonas and his faithful servant Ambrose. ‘Make a fire,’ he said to Ambrose. Then he cried out,—’O Lord my God, I am in great pain! What a weight upon my chest! I shall never leave Eisleben.’ Jonas said to him, ‘Our heavenly Father will come to help you for the love of Christ which you have faithfully preached to men.’ Luther then got up, took some turns up and down his room, and looking up to heaven exclaimed again,—’Into thine hand I commit my spirit; thou hast redeemed me, O God of truth!’

Jonas in alarm sent for the doctors, Wild and Ludwig, the Count and Countess of Mansfeld, Drachstadt, the town-clerk, and Luther’s children. In great alarm they all hastened to the spot. ‘I am dying,’ said the sick man. ‘No,’ said Jonas, ‘you are now in a perspiration and will soon be better.’ ‘It is the sweat of death,’ said Luther, ‘I am nearly at my last breath.’ He was thoughtful for a moment and then said with faltering voice,—’O my heavenly Father, the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the God of all consolation, I thank thee that thou hast revealed to me thy well-beloved Son, Jesus Christ, in whom I have believed, whom I have preached, whom I have confessed, whom the pope and all the ungodly insult, blaspheme, and persecute, but whom I love and adore as my Saviour. O Jesus Christ, my Saviour, I commit my soul to thee! O my heavenly Father, I must quit this body, but I believe with perfect assurance that I shall dwell eternally with thee, and that none shall pluck me out of thy hands.’

He now remained silent for a little while; his prayer[357] seemed to have exhausted him. But presently his countenance again grew bright, a holy joy shone in his features, and he said with fulness of faith,—’God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’ A moment afterwards he uttered, as if sure of victory, this word of David,[535]—’He that is our God is the God of salvation; and unto God the Lord belong the issues from death.’ Dr. Wild went to him, and tried to induce him to take medicine, but Luther refused. ‘I am departing,’ he said, ‘I am about to yield up my spirit.’ Then returning to the saying which was for him a sort of watchword for his departure, he said three times successively without interruption,—’Father! into thine hand I commit my spirit. Thou hast redeemed me, O God of truth! Thou hast redeemed me, O God of truth!’

He then closed his eyes. They touched him, moved him, called to him, but he made no answer. In vain they applied the cloths which the town-clerk and his wife heated, in vain the Countess of Mansfeld and the physicians endeavored to revive him with tonics. He remained motionless. All who stood round him, perceiving that God was going to take away from the church militant this mighty warrior, were deeply affected. The two physicians noted from minute to minute the approach of death. The two boys, Martin and Paul, kneeling and in tears, cried to God to spare to them their father. Ambrose lamented the master, and Coelius the friend, whom they had so much loved. The Count of Mansfeld thought of the troubles which Luther’s death might bring on the Empire. The distressed Countess sobbed and covered her eyes with her hands that she might not behold the mournful scene. Jonas, a little apart from the rest, felt heartbroken at the thought of the terrible blow impending over the Reformation. He wished to receive from the dying Luther a last testi[358]mony. He therefore rose, and went up to his friend, and bending over him, said,—’Reverend father, in your dying hour do you rest on Jesus Christ, and stedfastly rely upon the doctrine which you have preached?’ ‘Yes,’ said Luther, so that all who were present could hear him. This was his last word. The pallor of death overspread his countenance; his forehead, his hands, and his feet turned cold. They addressed him by his baptismal name, ‘Doctor Martin,’ but in vain, he made no response. He drew a deep breath and fell asleep in the Lord. It was between two and three o’clock in the morning. ‘Truly,’ said Jonas, to whom we are indebted for these details, ‘thou lettest, Lord, thy servant depart in peace, and thou accomplishest for him the promise which thou madest us, and which he himself wrote the other day in a Bible presented to one of his friends: Verily, verily, I say unto you, if a man keep my saying, he shall never see death.'[536]

Thus passed Luther into the presence of his Master, in full reliance on redemption, in calm faith in the triumph of truth. Luther was no longer here below, but Jesus Christ is with his people evermore to the end of the world, and the work which Luther had begun lives, is still advancing, and will extend to all the ends of the earth.


Transcript of ‘Indulgence’ of Leo X.—the words which are abbreviated in the original being written in full.

Albertus dei et apostolice sedis gratia . sancte Moguntinensis sedis . ac Magdeburgensis ecclesie Archiepiscopus . primas . et sacri Romani imperii in germania archicancellarius . princeps : elector ac administrator Halberstattensis . Marchio Brandenburgensis . Stettinensis . Pomeranie : Cassuborum Sclauorumque dux | Burggrauius . Nurenbergensis Rugieque princeps . Et guardianus fratrum ordinis minorum de obseruantia conuentus Moguntini . Per sanctissimum | dominum nostrum Leonem Papam decimum per prouincias Moguntinensem ac Magdeburgensem ac illarum et Halberstattenses ciuitates et dioceses necnon terras | et loca illustrissimi et illustrium Principum dominorum Marchionum Brandenburgensium temporali dominio mediate uel immediate subiecta nuncii et commissarii : ad infrascripta specialiter deputati . Vniuersis et singulis presentes literas inspecturis Salutem in domino . Notum facimus quod sanctissimus dominus | noster Leo diuina prouidentia Papa decimus modernus : omnibus et singulis utriusque sexus christifidelibus : ad reparacionem fabrice basilice principis apostolorum sancti Petri de vrbe : iuxta ordinationem nostram manus porrigentibus adiutrices : vltra plenissimas indulgentias ac alias gratias et facultates quas christifideles ipsi obtinere possunt : iuxta literarum apostolicarum desuper confectarum continentiam misericorditer etiam in domino indulsit atque concessit : vt idoneum possint | eligere confessorem presbyterum secularem . uel cuiusuis etiam mendicantium ordinis regularem . qui eorum confessione diligenter audita . pro commissis per eligentem | delictis et[360] excessibus : ac peccatis quibuslibet : quantumcumque grauibus et enormibus : etiam in dicte sedi reseruatis casibus : ac censuris ecclesiasticis : etiam ab | homine ad alicuius instantiam latis . de consensu partium etiam ratione interdicti incursis . et quarum absolutio eidem sedi esset specialiter reseruata. Preterquam machinationis in personam summi pontificis : occisionis episcoporum aut aliorum superiorum prelatorum et iniectionis manuum violentarum in illos aut alios prelatos . falsificationis | literarum apostolicarum . delationis armorum et aliorum prohibitorum ad partes infidelium ac sententiarum et censurarum occasione aluminum tulfe[537] apostolice de partibus infidelium ad fideles contra prohibitionem apostolicam delatorum incursarum semel in vita et in mortis articulo quotiens ille imminebit . licet mors tunc non subsequatur | Et in non reseruatis casibus totiens quotiens id petierint plenarie absoluere et eis penitentiam salutarem iniungere . necnon semel in vita et in dicto mortis articulo : plenariam omnium peccatorum indulgentiam et remissionem impendere . Necnon per eos emissa pro tempore uota quecumque (vltramarino : visitationis | liminum apostolorum et sancti Jacobi in compostella : religionis et castitatis votis dumtaxat exceptis) in alia pietatis opera commutare auctoritate apostolica | possit et valeat . Indulsit quoque idem sanctissimus dominus noster prefatos benefactores eorumque parentes defunctos qui cum charitate decesserunt in precibus : | suffragiis : elemosynis : ieiuniis : orationibus : missis : horis canonicis : disciplinis : peregrinationibus : et ceteris omnibus spiritualibus bonis que fiunt : et fieri poterunt in tota vniuersali sacrosancta ecclesia militante : et in omnibus membris eiusdem in perpetuum participes fieri . Et quia deuotus | Philippus Kessel[538] presbyter ad ipsam fabricam et necessariam instaurationem | supradicte basilice principis apostolorum iuxta sanctissimi domini nostri Pape intentionem et nostram ordinationem de bonis suis contribuendo se gratum | exhibuit. In cuius rei signum presentes literas a nobis accepit Ideo eadem auctoritate apostolica nobis commissa : et qua fungimur in hac parte | ipsi quod dictis gratiis et indulgentiis vti et eisdem gaudere possit et valeat per presentes concedimus[361] et largimur. Datum Auguste | sub sigillo per nos ad hec ordinato. Die xv Mensis Aprilis Anno domini M.D.xvij.

Forma absolutionis totiens quotiens in vita.

Misereatur tui &c. Dominus noster Jesus christus per meritum sue passionis te absoluat : auctoritate cuius et apostolica mihi in hac parte commissa: et | tibi concessa ego te absoluo ab omnibus peccatis tuis. In nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti Amen.

Forma absolutionis et plenissime remissionis : semel in vita et in mortis articulo.

Misereatur tui &c. Dominus noster Jesus christus per meritum sue passionis te absoluat : et ego auctoritate ipsius et apostolica mihi in hac parte commissa : et tibi | concessa te absoluo . primo ab omni sententia excommunicationis maioris vel minoris si quam incurristi . deinde ab omnibus peccatis tuis : conferendo tibi plenissimam omnium | peccatorum tuorum remissionem remittendo tibi etiam penas purgatorii in quantum se claues sancte matris ecclesie extendunt . In nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti Amen.

Note.—If one effect produced by the perusal of this often-talked-of document be surprise at the extent of the remissions offered to those who should ‘stretch out a helping hand towards the repair of the fabric of the Church of the prince of the apostles, St. Peter of Rome,’ another surely is amazement at the seeming incongruity of the exceptions. ‘Indulgence’ is extended to crimes and excesses and any kind of sin, however ‘grave and enormous,’ but is withheld not only from ‘conspiracy against the person of the Pope, murder of Bishops or other superior prelates, laying violent hands on them or on other prelates, forgery of apostolic letters, exportation of arms and other forbidden goods to heathen parts,’ but also from the importation of alum from heathen to Christian parts, contrary to the apostolic prohibition, by which the faithful who wanted alum were required to use only that obtained from Tolfa belonging to the Pope.

Superficially regarded, this last exception is suggestive of a commercial monopoly enforced by the threat of spiritual penalties; and so clearly has it been seen that a damaging significance might readily be attached to it, that the accuracy of the passage has frequently been doubted. M. Audin, who in his[362] Histoire de Martin Luther, vol. i. pp. 429-432, gives a copy of the ‘Indulgence,’ renders the passage thus: ‘occasione aluminum (sic) sanctæ ecclesiæ,’ &c. By using the word sic, and by appending the note ‘Tiré d’une source protestante par un protestant,’ M. Audin would seem to have intended to suggest not merely that he doubted the correctness of the copy to which he had had access, but also that the apparently objectionable features of the document might be attributable to inaccuracy.

But transactions of which the causes are imperfectly understood may give rise to very erroneous opinions; and in this case even the most cursory glance at the state of Europe during the pontificate of Pius II., when the alum-works of Tolfa came into existence, will show that there were grave reasons for treating the importation of alum as a most heinous offence—reasons which might well affect the decrees of the Pope, and which had not lost their importance in the time of Leo X.

Until the discovery that alum could be obtained from the hills near Tolfa, the Italians had been dependent for their supplies of this commodity, which they used in very considerable quantities, upon the Turks, who, it is to be borne in mind, had but a few years previously taken Constantinople, and who were now the scourge and dread of Christendom. The Papal view as to the use to which the discovery should be turned is shown in the following extract from a brief of Pius II.:—

‘Item quoniam diebus nostris faciens nobiscum Dominus misericordiam suam de absconditis terræ, uberrimas pretiosi aluminis venas antea nunquam inventas miraculo quodam in montibus nostris, qui in patrimonio B. Petri in Tuscia prope arcem Tolpham sunt patefecit, volens videlicet, ne ultra ex fidelium pecunia Turchorum in eos persecutio cresceret, sed ilia ad defensionem nostram uti possemus, justum et pietati suæ placitum reputantes, fructum omnem, qui antehac ex comportato in Christianitatem transmarino alumine penes impios Turchos in Christianorum exitium erat, modo ad nos in suffragium ecclesiæ catholicæ transeat, præsertim cum alumen nostrum, magistra experientia, virtute perfectius, pretio vilius, numero autem sit adeo abundans, ut usui Christianorum in[363] omnem partem satisfacere possit, ex parte omnipotentis Dei Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus sancti, ac nostra ex hoc sancto tribunali apostolica voce hortamur atque requirimus omnes, et singulos profitentes nomen Christianum, ne posthac alumen a Turchis aliisque infidelibus emant, &c. Dat. Romæ apud S. Petrum anno MCDLXIII. vii. id. Aprilis, pontificatus nostri anno v.’ (Raynaldus, ‘Annales Ecclesiastici,’ tom. 29, p. 376).

In his ‘History of Inventions, Discoveries,’ &c. (Bohn’s Standard Library), Beckmann, who, in treating of Alum, quotes several accounts of the works at Tolfa, says:—’The Pope himself has left us a very minute history of this discovery, and of the circumstances which gave rise to it;’ and, alluding to the conflicting statements respecting the discoverer, he adds:—’But as I do not wish to ascribe a falsehood to the Pontiff, I am of opinion that the history of this discovery must have been best known to him. He has not, indeed, established the year with sufficient correctness; but we may conclude from his relation that it must have been 1460 or 1465.[539] The former is the year given by Felician Bussi; and the latter that given in the History of the City of Civita Vecchia.’ Beckmann’s rendering of the Pope’s history, though the account is here and there open to criticism, throws much light on the passage in the Indulgence and is otherwise very interesting. It is in these terms:—’A little before that period came to Rome John di Castro, with whom the Pontiff had been acquainted when he carried on trade at Basle, and was banker to Pope Eugenius. His father, Paul, was a celebrated lawyer of his time, who sat many years in the chair of Padua, and filled all Italy with his decisions; for lawsuits were frequently referred to him, and judges paid great respect to his authority, as he was a man of integrity and sound learning. At his death he left considerable riches, and two sons arrived to the age of manhood, the elder of whom, following the profession of the father, acquired a very extensive knowledge of law. The other, who was a man of genius, and who applied more to study, made himself acquainted with grammar and history; but, being fond of travelling, he resided some time at Constantinople, and acquired much wealth by dyeing cloth made in Italy, which was trans[364]ported thither and committed to his care, on account of the abundance of alum in that neighborhood. Having by these means an opportunity of seeing daily the manner in which alum was made, and from what stones or earth it was extracted, he soon learned the art. When, by the will of God, that city was taken and plundered about the year 1453, by Mahomet II., Emperor of the Turks, he lost his whole property; but, happy to have escaped the fire and sword of these cruel people, he returned to Italy, after the assumption of Pius II., to whom he was related, and from whom he obtained, as an indemnification for his losses, the office of Commissary-General over all the revenues of the Apostolic Chamber, both within and without the city. While in this situation he was traversing all the hills and mountains, searching the bowels of the earth, leaving no stone or clod unexplored, he at length found some alum-stone in the neighborhood of Tolfa. Old Tolfa is a town belonging to two brothers, subjects of the Church of Rome, and situated at a small distance from Civita Vecchia. Here there are high mountains, retiring inland from the sea, which abound with wood and water. While Castro was examining these, he observed that the grass had a new appearance. Being struck with wonder, and inquiring into the cause, he found that the mountains of Asia, which enrich the Turkish treasury by their alum, were covered with grass of the like kind. Perceiving several white stones, which seemed to be minerals, he bit some of them, and found that they had a saltish taste. This induced him to make some experiments by calcining them, and he at length obtained alum. He repaired therefore to the Pontiff, and addressing him said, “I announce to you a victory over the Turk. He draws yearly from the Christians above three hundred thousand pieces of gold, paid to him for the alum with which we dye wool different colors, because none is found here but a little at the island of Hiscla, formerly called Aenaria, near Puteoli, and in the cave of Vulcan at Lipari, which, being formerly exhausted by the Romans, is now almost destitute of that substance. I have, however, found seven hills so abundant in it, that they would be almost sufficient to supply seven worlds. If you will send for workmen, and cause furnaces to be constructed, and the stones to be calcined, you may furnish alum to all Europe; and that[365] gain which the Turk used to acquire by this article being thrown into your hands will be to him a double loss. Wood and water are both plenty, and you have in the neighborhood the port of Civita Vecchia, where vessels bound to the West may be loaded. You can now make war against the Turk: this mineral will supply you with the sinews of war, that is money, and at the same time deprive the Turk of them.” These words of Castro appeared to the Pontiff the ravings of a madman: he considered them as mere dreams, like the predictions of astrologers; and all the cardinals were of the same opinion. Castro, however, though his proposals were often rejected, did not abandon his project, but applied to his Holiness by various persons, in order that experiments might be made in his presence on the stones which he had discovered. The Pontiff employed skilful people, who proved that they really contained alum; but lest some deception might have been practised, others were sent to the place where they had been found, who met with abundance of the like kind. Artists who had been employed in the Turkish mines in Asia were brought from Genoa; and these, having closely examined the nature of the place, declared it to be similar to that of the Asiatic mountains which produce alum; and, shedding tears for joy, they kneeled down three times, worshipping God, and praising his kindness in conferring so valuable a gift on our age. The stones were calcined, and produced alum more beautiful than that of Asia, and superior in quality. Some of it was sent to Venice and to Florence, and, being tried, was found to answer beyond expectation. The Genoese first purchased a quantity of it, to the amount of 20,000 pieces of gold; and Cosmo of Medici for this article laid out afterwards seventy-five thousand. On account of this service, Pius thought Castro worthy of the highest honors and of a statue, which was erected to him in his own country, with this inscription:—”To John di Castro, the Inventor of Alum;” and he received besides a certain share of the profit. Immunities and a share also of the gain were granted to the two brothers, lords of Tolfa, in whose land the aluminous mineral had been found. This accession of wealth to the Church of Rome was made, by the divine blessing, under the Pontificate of Pius II.: and if it escape, as it ought, the hands of tyrants, and be prudently managed, it may increase and afford no small assistance to the[366] Roman Pontiffs in supporting the burdens of the Christian religion—Pii Secundi Comment . rer . memorab . quæ temp . suis contigerunt. Francof. 1614, fol. p. 185′

Dr. Georg Voigt, in his ‘Enea Silvio de Piccolomini als Papst Pius der Zweite und sein Zeitalter,’ vol. iii. pp. 546-48, says:—

‘Ein Glückszufall brachte dem Papste noch eine ganz unerwartete Quelle von Einnahmen. Unter ihm wurden die berühmten Alaungruben von Tolfa entdeckt. Der genannte Giovanni de Castro, ein Mann der rührigsten Industrie, der zu Konstantinopel die Färbung italienischer Zeuge betrieben, bei der Eroberung der Stadt jedoch nichts als sein Leben und seine technischen Kenntnisse davongetragen, war der Finder. Umherschweifend auf dem einsamen culturlosen Waldgebirge, das sich unweit Civita-vecchia mit seinen Ausläufern bis zum Meer erstreckt, stöbernd unter den Steinen, Erden und Pflanzen mit dem eigenthümlichen Antriebe solcher Naturen, bemerkte er zunächst ein Kraut, das er auf den alaunhaltigen Bergen Asiens gesehen, dann weisse Steine, die der salzige Geschmack und gar die Auskochung als Alaun erwies. Freudig eilte er zum Papste und verkündete ihm den Sieg über die Türken, zunächst den Industriellen, da der Orient durch den Alaun jährlich über 300,000 Ducaten von den Christen verdiene. Von anderer Seite wird der Astrolog Domenico di Zaccaria aus Padua wenigstens als Mitentdecker angegeben.[540] Pius indess erwähnt nur de Castro. Er und die Cardinäle hielten die Entdeckung anfangs für eine alchymistische Träumerei. Doch bestätigten Sachverständige, dass das Gestein wirklich Alaun und dass es in jenen Bergen in betriebsfähiger Masse vorhanden sei; das reichliche Wasser der Gegend und der nahe Seehafen begünstigten den Bau. Es wurden Gewerbsleute aus Genua berufen, die einst bei den Türken den asiatischen Alaun behandelt; sie weinten vor Freude, als sie das Mineral erkannten, nach der Abkochung zeigte sich seine Güte: 80 Pfund hatten den Werth von 100 Pfund türkischen Alauns. Proben wurden nach Venedig und Florenz versandt. Genuesische Kaufleute schlossen zuerst einen Ankauf für 20,000 Ducaten ab. Dann Cosimo de’ Medici einen für 75,000. Der Papst fasste den Vorsatz, das Geschenk Gottes auch zur Ehre Gottes, zum Türkenkriege zu verwenden; er[367] ermahnte alle Christen, fortan nur von ihm, nicht von den Ungläubigen den Alaun einzukaufen, zumal da der seinige nach der Erfahrung besser und billiger sei.[541] Schon im Jahre 1463 wurde tüchtig in den Gruben von Tolfa gearbeitet, 8,000 Menschen waren dabei beschäftigt: der Finder wie die Besitzer des vorher unfruchtbaren Districtes erhielten eine Quote des Gewinnes, der dem apostolischen Schatze jährlich gegen 100,000 Ducaten einbrachte. In der Wahlcapitulation von 1464 wurden sämmtliche Einkünfte von Alaun für den Türkenkrieg bestimmt.'[542]

From Dr. Voigt’s statements that as early as the year 1463, 8,000 men were employed in the alum-works of Tolfa, and that the profit to the apostolic treasury, after the claims of the discoverer and the proprietors had been duly recognized, amounted to 100,000 ducats a year, and from the date of the Pope’s Brief quoted above, it would seem that the discovery could scarcely have been made later than 1462, the year assigned to it by Niccolo della Tuccia.

The following extract from R. Harrison’s translation of A. von Reumont’s ‘Lorenzo de’ Medici,’ carries on somewhat further the history of this famous mine and of its position in regard to the Papal Government:—

‘The Pope’s affection and confidence were shown in various ways. The Roman depository, i.e., the Receiver’s office, was handed over to the Medici, with the permission to choose as their representative Giovanni Tornabuoni, director of the Roman bank. New privileges were also granted to them in connection with their share in the farming of the alum-works of Tolfa. It was an important concession. In the days of[368] Pope Pius II., Giovanni di Castro, son of the famous jurisconsult, Paolo, the principal co-operator in the revision of the Florentine statutes (finished in 1415), discovered alum-deposits in the rock while making geological investigations in the hilly country between Civita Vecchia and the territory of Viterbo, in the vicinity of Tolfa. He instantly perceived the importance of his discovery, which promised to free the West, hitherto poor in this mineral, from a tribute to the distant East, made more inaccessible by the Turkish conquests. In fact the produce soon amounted to 160,000 gold florins; and it is well known what sanguine hopes Pius II., whose eyes were directed towards the East, indulged, that this new source of revenue would aid his enterprises. Genoese houses had employed themselves with the alum-trade till the Medici concluded a contract with the Papal exchequer, which afterwards gave rise to many unpleasant misunderstandings with the financial department.’—(Vol. I. p. 275).

An account of the alum of Tolfa is also given in vol. v. chap. i., of the ‘Voyages du P. Labat de l’Ordre des FF. Prescheurs, en Espagne et en Italie;’ and in the article ‘Alaun,’ in the ‘Oeconomische Encyclopädie,’ by Dr. J. G. Krünitz, which is in part derived from Labat’s work.



Volumes I.—VIII.

Transcriber’s Note: Only the pages of this volume, (Volume VIII) have been linked with highlighted numbers. The other volumes are also available at Project Gutenberg as follows:
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Volume II – http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60152
Volume III – http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60774
Volume IV – http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60035
Volume V – http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/61277
Volume VI – not available yet.
Volume VII – http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/61913

Aarau, meeting of pastors at, to complain of exile of Megander, vi. 367;
deputation sent to Berne, 367
Abelard, ii. 18; iii. 44
Ab Hofen, Thomas, Bernese deputy to Geneva, ii. 311 sqq.;
his evangelical work, 312;
opposition and dejection, 314;
death, 316
Adam, iii. 301 sqq.
Adrian VI., Pope, attempts to prevent introduction of Luther’s works and followers into Spain, viii. 4
Adrian, Dr., umpire at conference of Schässburg, vii. 384
Agrippa, Cornelius, at Strasburg, i. 360;
his career, 363;
his book on marriage, 363
Alasco, John, Baron, primate of Poland, vii. 433, 443;
unfriendly reception of his nephew John, 445;
his devotion to the papacy, 445;
examines John, 446;
his death, 450
— Stanislaus, vii. 433;
at court of Francis I., 442
— Yaroslav, vii. 433;
gets his brother John appointed a bishop, 452;
interview with John, 458;
his relations with Zapolya, 458;
military service and imprisonment, 458;
his death, 459
Alasco, John, Polish reformer, his birth and early life, vii. 434;
sets out to visit European courts and universities, 434;
at Louvain, 434;
meets Zwinglius at Zurich, 435;
difficulty of fixing dates of his travels, 436, note;
grateful remembrance of Zwinglius, 436;
becomes guest of Erasmus, 437;
influence of Erasmus on him, 438, 439;
studies at Basel under Pellican, 439;
friendship with Glareanus, 439;
enjoined by King Sigismund to leave Basel, 441;
uncertainty of his next course, 442;
in Italy, 442;
again in Poland, 443;
his struggles, 444;
worldly associations, 444;
decline of faith, 445;
false reports about him, 445;
examined by the primate, 446;
renounces doctrines of the Reformation, 447;
urges Erasmus to write to the king, 448;
named provost of cathedral church of Gnesne, 448;
reads and corresponds with Melanchthon, 449;
leans towards Luther, 449;
coolness of Erasmus, 450;
his place among reformers, 451;
has to give up hope of reforming Poland, 451;
appointed bishop of Wesprim, 452;
bishop of Cujavia, 452;
his difficult position, 452;
refuses bishopric of Cujavia, 453;
leaves Poland, 454;
goes to Mentz and Louvain, 454;
offers made to him, 455;
marries, 456;
his life at Embden, 456, 457;
declines offer of pastorate there, 458;
attends death-bed of his brother Yaroslav, 458, 459;
returns to Friesland, 459;
writes to Hardenberg, 459;
accepts direction of churches in Friesland, 462;
invited to Poland, 462;
his task in Friesland, 462;
charges against him, 463;
opposition of John of Falkenberg, 464;
writes to Bullinger, 464;
conflict with the monks, 465;
his appeal to Countess Anna, 466;
victory over John of Falkenberg, 467;
aims at union of Protestant sects, 468;
has a conference with Menno, 468;
with David Joris, 470;
his ministry, 471;
his church government, 471;
relations to Erasmus, Zwinglius, and Melanchthon, 472;
his Epitome of doctrine, 472;
again appeals to Countess Anna, 473;
resigns office of superintendent, 473;
resumes it, 474;
death of his child, 474;
his country home, 475;
his first letter to Calvin, 475, note;
at Louvain, 548, 552;
meetings with Francis de Enzinas, viii. 43, 59
Albany, John Stuart, duke of, i. 414;
special ambassador of Francis I. to Clement VII., ii. 148;
his career, 148, 155;
commands French fleet escorting Catherine de’ Medici to Nice, 189;
escorts Clement VII. to Marseilles, 190;
regent of Scotland, vi. 15;
returns to France, 15;
again in Scotland, defeated by the English, finally quits the country, 21
Albert, duke of Prussia, protects the reformed in Poland, vii. 431
Albigenses, the, ii. 102
Alcagnices, Marchioness of, her conversations with Carranza, viii. 117;
gets his works copied and translated, 119
Alcala de Henares, viii. 13;
a theological disputation at, 14
Alciati of Milan, at Bourges, ii. 23
Aleander, papal nuncio, obtains edict of persecution for the Netherlands, vii. 488;
receives recantation of Spreng, 490
Alençon, Duchess of
[Margaret of Angoulême]
Alençon, Duke of, i. 346
Alesius, presents Melanchthon’s Common places to Henry VIII., v. 106;
account of him, 186;
present at convocation, 187;
his speech, 188, 189;
refused admission, 190;
his birth and early life, vi. 11;
publicly refutes Luther’s doctrine, 51;
his interviews with Patrick Hamilton, 52;
refuses to condemn him, 75;
preaches before the synod, 76;
assailed by Prior Hepburn, and imprisoned, 76, 77;
released by command of the king, 77;
immediately imprisoned again, 78;
urged to escape, reluctant to leave Scotland, 80, 81;
his flight, 81, 82;
embarks at Dundee, 83;
his wanderings, 84;
his letter to James V., 90, 91
Alexander VI., Pope, i. 119, 211;
his decree on printing, ii. 173
Alexander Canus (Dumoulin), goes to Geneva, iv. 195;
attempts to arrest him, 198;
seized and banished, 205;
leaves Geneva, 206
Alexander, Dr., preaches at Dantzic, vii. 425
Alexander, Peter, chaplain to the Regent of the Netherlands, viii. 86;
holds a disputation with De Soto, 87;
his flight, trial, and burning in effigy, 87;
pastor of French church in London, 88
Alva, Duke of, i. 325
Amadeus V. of Savoy, i. 17;
seizes the château de l’Ile, 17;
becomes vidame, 18;
bids for popular favor, 18
Amadeus VIII., his attempt on Geneva, i. 19;
his abdication, 21;
nominated pope by Council of Basel as Felix V., 21;
makes himself prince and bishop of Geneva, 21;
his death, 21
Amadeus IX., i. 22
Amman, Louis, vi. 434
Amsterdam, beginning of the Reformation at, vii. 531 sqq.;
arrests of evangelicals by night, their execution, 535;
Jan van Geelen’s attempt to surprise, viii. 348
Amyot, Jacques, iii. 76
Anabaptists, burnt by Henry VIII., v. 63; viii. 160
Ancina, Messire d’, i. 116, 122
Anderson, Lawrence, his birth and early life, vii. 239;
receives evangelical doctrine, 240;
administrator of diocese of Strengnaes, 240;
friendship with Olaf and Lawrence Peterson, 241;
before Gustavus, 258;
appointed chancellor of the kingdom, 258;
his character, 259;
advises Gustavus, 259;
translates the New Testament, 269;
advises the king on church power, 281;
his speech at Diet of Westeraas, 285 sqq.;
deputy with Olaf to the king, 291;
his speech on return of the king, 293;
president of synod of Orebro, 299
Anderson, William, a Protestant of Perth, vi. 178;
seized and condemned to death, 181;
hung, 181
Andronicus, invited into Switzerland by Farel, iii. 233 sqq.;
joins Farel, 235
Angelis, Francis de, viii. 4
Angers, University of, declares for divorce of Henry VIII., iv. 40
Angoulême, city, iii. 5
Angus, Earl of, marries Margaret, regent of Scotland, vi. 15;
takes the Great Seal, 22;
defeats Lennox, 24;
renews proscription of New Testament, 43;
keeps the king in subjection, 72;
banished, 74;
joins English army against the Scots, 138;
accompanies the liberated nobles to Scotland, 158;
reinstated, 161;
imprisoned, liberated, 184
Anhalt, Principality of, the reformation in, viii. 322;
the princes of, 322;
Luther’s letter to them, 326;
the reformation established in, 327
Anna, Countess [Friesland]
Annates, in England, abolished, iv. 87
Anne Boleyn, meets Henry VIII., ii. 105; iv. 21, 27;
lodged in palace at Greenwich, 103;
marriage of, 118, 127;
included in Clement’s excommunication of Henry VIII., 128;
appears as queen, 131;
her marriage pronounced lawful, 135;
presented to the people, 135;
her coronation, 136;
unsatisfied, 137;
her course and fate, 138;
change in her character, v. 32;
protects evangelicals, 32;
orders liberation of Harman, 33;
her bringing up, 119;
her good works, 120, 121;
esteem for Latimer, 121;
Tyndale’s present to, 122;
character of, 124;
opposite views of her, 125;
hostility of Norfolk, 126;
her difficult position, 127;
jealousy of Jane Seymour, 128;
gives birth to a dead son, 129;
co-operates with Cranmer, 130;
her choice of bishops, 130, 131;
forebodings, 132;
commends her daughter Elizabeth to Parker, 133;
charges against her, 133, 134 sqq.;
ordered to keep her room, 138;
before the council, 139;
taken to the Tower, 140;
her sympathy, 141;
watched, 145;
agitation, 146;
her letter to the king, 150 sqq.;
alleged pre-contract of marriage not proved, 153;
her trial, 155 sqq.;
sentenced to death, 157;
her address to the judges, 158;
asks pardon of the princess Mary, 162;
her execution, 165 sqq.;
effect of her death in Europe, 170, 171
Anne of Beauregard, v. 427, 428
Anne of Cleves, proposal for her marriage with Henry VIII., viii. 193;
her portrait, 193;
the marriage arranged, 193;
at Calais, 194;
a game of cards, 194;
reaches Canterbury, 195;
at Rochester, seen by the king, 195;
received by him, 197;
enters London, 197;
married, 198;
hopes, 198;
scheme contrived for her divorce, 230 sqq.;
consents, 231;
receives report of judgment of convocation, 232;
her submission, 233;
a pension and a palace for her, 234
Anne of Cyprus, i. 21, 22, 23;
accused by her son Philip to her husband, 25
Annonay, the ‘holy virtues’ of, i. 429;
preaching of Stephen Machopolis at, 430;
of Rénier, 430;
of Jonas, 430;
arrest and imprisonment of many evangelicals, 431
Anschar, apostle of Scandinavia, vii. 120
Antwerp, vii. 481;
beginning of reformation at, 483 sqq.;
persecution, 492;
the convent of the Augustines destroyed, 499;
open-air meeting of the reformed, 503;
murder of Nicholas, 504;
preaching attended by crowds, 517
Aosta, Lutheranism at, v. 451 sqq.;
assembly of estates at, 452;
resolution against Lutheranism, 453;
monuments of Calvin’s passage through, 454
Apologists, Christian, iii. 10, 182
Appeals to the pope, abolished in England, iv. 179
Aquinas, Thomas, Calvin’s admiration of, i. 387; ii. 167
Arcimbold, sells indulgences in Scandinavia, vii. 127;
gains over the King of Denmark, 128;
sends his brother to Gothland, 236
Aresen, Johan, bishop of Holum, vii. 226;
his quarrel with bishop of Skalholt, 226;
vanquished in single combat, 226;
takes up arms against the reformation, 229;
usurps the see of Skalholt, 229;
arrested and executed with his sons, 230;
barbarous revenge of his partisans, 230
Arlod, Jean d’, i. 271; iv. 313; v. 352;
imprisoned at Chillon, 353
—, Domaine d’, iii. 364;
proscribed by the bishop, 439;
seized and imprisoned, 441, 457.
Arnold of Winkelried, i. 194
Arran, Earl of, vi. 152;
his character, 154;
proclaimed regent of Scotland, 154;
his evangelical chaplains, 155;
favors project of marriage of Mary Queen of Scots with Edward of England, 158;
confirmed in the regency, 161;
dismisses his chaplains, 168;
refuses the hostages to Henry VIII., 171;
assembles an army at Edinburgh, 172;
his irresolution, 173;
joins the cardinal at Stirling, 173;
submits to the pope and is absolved, 174;
accompanies Beatoun to Perth, sanctions martyrdom of Protestants, 181;
and persecution in Forfarshire, 182;
flies from Edinburgh with Beatoun, 183;
gives up Wishart to Beatoun, 197;
writes to the cardinal about him, 197
Arras, martyrs at, i. 349; iii. 142
Artois, preaching of Berquin in, i. 332, 333
Aske, Robert, heads revolt of Catholics in Yorkshire, v. 206;
the pilgrimage of grace, 206;
at Pomfret Castle, 209;
confronts the Lancaster herald, 209;
resolves to march on London, 210
Askew, Anne, account of, viii. 274;
her marriage and separation, 275;
imprisoned, her examinations, 276;
before Bishop Bonner, 277;
liberated on bail, 277;
again arrested, examined, 277, 278;
her firmness, 279;
condemned to be burnt, 279;
again examined and tortured by Wriothesley and Rich, 280, 281, and note;
her martyrdom, 283 sqq.
Athanasian Creed, the, vi. 317
Audley, Sir Thomas, Speaker, iv. 9;
appointed Chancellor, 91;
one of Fryth’s examiners, 151;
begs for gift of convents, v. 99;
member of commission of inquiry into conduct of Queen Anne, 136, 139; viii. 226
Augsburg, Diet of, ii. 216, 255, 415, 421; vii. 170;
influence of the confession in Hungary, 345
Augustines, at Geneva, i. 44
Augustine, St., iv. 46
Austria, ii. 215, 216;
delegates at Diet, of Augsburg, 217, 218, 219
[Ferdinand of Austria, Philip of Hesse]
Avalos, Don Gaspard d’, opposes publication of Spanish New Testament, viii. 61
Avenches, iii. 212
Avignon, Francis I., holds council at, ii. 214;
the embroiderer of, iv. 325;
seized and ill-used, 325;
reaches Geneva, 326
Avila, John d’, his preaching in Andalusia, viii. 4, 5, 6;
exposes the fraud of Madeline de la Croix, 7;
defends St. Theresa, 7;
counsels Sancha de Carile, 8;
arrested by the Inquisition, and acquitted, 17
Babinot, Albert, iii. 46;
sent by Calvin to preach, 58;
at Toulouse, 59, 61
Baduel, Claude, ii. 257;
seeks introduction to Margaret of Navarre, 258;
visits her, 259;
his career, 259;
envoy from Margaret to Melanchthon, iv. 368
Baillot, Jacques, of Neuchâtel, advocates giving help to Geneva, v. 323;
on the march, 327
Bainham, James, iv. 106;
arrested and tortured by More, 106;
before Bishop of London, 107;
his abjuration and sentence, 107;
remorse, 108;
repentance, 108;
condemned, 109;
visited by Latimer, 109;
martyrdom, 110
Bakker, Johan van, with his father denounced as a Lutheran, vii. 510;
sent to Louvain, becomes a priest, 511;
imprisoned, liberated, goes to Wittenberg, 511;
returns, and is banished, 511;
wanderings, 511;
separates from Rome, 512;
opposes indulgences, 512;
arrested, 513;
his trial, 513;
imprisoned, 514;
his father, 515;
his martyrdom, 515, 516
Balard, syndic of Geneva, i. 204;
elected syndic, 263;
cited, 292, note; iii. 282, 286, 290;
recommends celebration of the mass, v. 367;
his views, 411;
examined before the Council, vi. 502 sqq.
Balkerley, Martin, imprisoned at Edinburgh for reading the Scriptures, vi. 113;
pays a ransom and is left in prison, a double ransom demanded, 113;
liberated, 113
Balleyson, M. de, i. 278, 291, 295, 297
Balue, Master, deputy of the Sorbonne, ii. 287
Bandière, Ami, i. 267, 270, 276, 292;
leads the search for Pontverre, and is wounded, ii. 379
Bandière, Jean, i. 292
Bandini, Francesco, Archbishop of Siena, receives deputation accusing Paleario, iv. 444;
consents to support the charge, 445
Baner, Eric, in charge of Gustavus Vasa, vii. 245
Baptism, a reformed, at Geneva, iv. 249
Barbarossa, iv. 465
Barbier, instigates plot against reformers at Geneva, v. 244
Bar-le Duc, conference and treaty of, ii. 224 sqq., 297
Barlow, Dr., prior of Bisham, his embassy to Scotland, vi. 100, 101;
ready to preach, 105
Barnes, envoy to reformers at Wittenberg, v. 106;
sent by the king to invite Melanchthon, 107;
well received by Elector of Saxony, 107;
joined by Fox and Hare, 109;
takes part in negotiating marriage of the king with Anne of Cleves, viii. 202;
appointed to preach at Paul’s Cross, superseded by Gardiner, 202;
preaches, 203;
reprimanded by the king, 204;
reads a retractation, and again preaches, 204;
committed to the Tower, 204;
with Garret and Jerome and three Papists, burnt at Smithfield, 227, 228
Barton, Elizabeth [Maid of Kent]
Basel, council of, i. 21;
embassy to Geneva, ii. 390, 392;
treaty with landgrave of Hesse, 420;
conferences at, vi. 325; vii. 43, 44
Baud, Claude, syndic of Geneva, attempts to direct Catholic rioters, iii. 375;
plants the city banner, 379;
refuses to give the signal for attack, 385;
takes part in consultation for peace, 395; iv. 200;
searches for Froment, 205
Bayfield, Richard, in prison, iv. 83;
his martyrdom, 84
Beatoun, David, abbot of Arbroath, negotiates return of his uncle, the primate, to St. Andrews, vi. 28;
one of the judges of Patrick Hamilton, 61;
accompanies James V. to Paris, 108;
again in France, made bishop of Mirepoix, 108;
negotiates marriage of James with Mary of Lorraine, 109;
his character and aims, 110, 111;
created cardinal, 111;
unites with the king against the gospellers and the nobles, 112;
finds money for the king, 113;
his arrogance, 113;
goes to France to seek aid for Scotland, 115;
persecutes the gospellers, 116 sqq.;
demands the burning of Kennedy and Russel, 123;
succeeds his uncle as primate, 124:
his persecutions checked by the king, 126;
holds assembly of prelates and nobles at St. Andrews, 126;
aims at ruin of Henry VIII., 133;
prevents interview of James and Henry, 135;
visits James V. on his death-bed, 149;
under alleged will of the king claims to be president of the council of regency, 153;
opposes appointment of Arran to the regency, 154;
appointed chancellor, 155;
resists scheme for marriage of Mary Queen of Scots with Prince Edward of England, 158;
excluded from the council and imprisoned, 159;
results of his arrest, 160;
liberated, 169;
his intrigues against the regent, 169;
convokes the clergy, 170;
induces the regent to refuse the hostages, 171;
removes the two queens to Stirling, 172;
receives submission of Arran and absolves him, 174;
crowns the queen, 175;
resolves to crush the Reformation, 177;
goes to Perth, condemns six Protestants to death, 181;
persecutes them in Forfarshire, 182;
on appearance of English army at Leith, flies from Edinburgh with Arran, 183;
sets a body of armed men to waylay Wishart, 196;
imprisons Wishart, 197;
convokes the bishops, 197;
arms his men to escort them and Wishart, 198;
presides at his trial, 198 sqq.;
witnesses his martyrdom, 205 sqq.;
marries his daughter to David Lindsay, 208;
quarrels with Norman Lesley, 209;
a conspiracy formed against him, orders his partisans to meet him at Falkland, 209;
his castle seized by Norman Lesley, 211;
murdered, 212;
opinions on the murder, 214
Beatoun, James, primate of Scotland, gathering of the Hamiltons in his palace, vi. 16;
dissensions with the queen-mother and the nobles, 22;
deprived of the Great Seal by Angus, 23;
plots with the priests against Angus, 23;
in concealment in Fifeshire, 24;
returns to St. Andrews, 28;
cites Patrick Hamilton before him, 28;
invites him to a conference, 48;
cites him on a charge of heresy, 54;
orders his arrest, 59;
pronounces sentence on him, 64;
sanctions imprisonment of Alesius, 78;
condemns Seaton’s doctrines, 88;
imprisons Thomas Forrest, 92;
leaves his see to his nephew David, 124
Beatrice of Portugal, married to duke Charles III., i. 218;
reception of, at Geneva, 219 sqq.;
birth of a son, 234;
deputation of women to her in behalf of Levrier, 251;
quits Geneva, 251; ii. 452
Beaugency, ancient custom at, ii. 6
Becon, Thomas, quoted, iv. 162
Beda, syndic of the Sorbonne, advises persecution of Lutherans, i. 332, 333;
reports on Berquin’s works, 334;
principal of Montaigu College, 386;
attacks Berquin, 403;
his refutation of Erasmus, 404;
arrested, 405;
attacked by Berquin, 406;
urges persecution of Berquin, 431, 432; ii. 34, 36, 40;
attacks the professors, 59;
his charges dismissed by the parliament, 60;
adopted by the Sorbonne, 60;
declaims against reformers, 90;
urges arrest of preachers, 119;
general in the war against Lutherans, 121;
sets mendicant friars to work, 121, 122;
confined to his house by the king’s order, 124;
breaks loose, 125;
appears before the parliament, 129;
banished, 130;
his departure, 133;
censor of books, 167;
detects heresy in Margaret’s Mirror, 167;
returns to Paris, 230;
attacks professors of University of Paris, 230;
demands burning of Roussel and others, 231;
his debate with Roussel in the prison, 233;
his Remonstrance read by the king, 233;
imprisoned, 233;
accuses the king, iii. 115;
charged with treason, his imprisonment and death, 116; iv. 40
Bell, Dr., joint commissioner to Oxford University, iv. 33
Bellantes, Antonio, his friendship with Paleario, iv. 439;
his mother, 440;
her property stolen by the monks, 440
Bellantes, Faustus, warns Paleario, iv. 441;
at his trial, 441, 451
—, Evander, at trial of Paleario, iv. 451
Bellegarde, Sieur de, prepares ambuscade for Levrier, i. 246;
seizes and takes him to castle of Bonne, 247;
tortures him, 251;
treachery to Bonivard, ii. 406;
envoy to the emperor, iii. 282;
bribes the grand equerry, 262;
has audience of Charles V., 263;
interview with Granvella, 265;
his letter to the duke, 266;
his plans against Geneva, 267;
projects a fortress, 273
Bellessert, Captain, commands one of the bands against Lutherans, iii. 378;
strikes down Philippe, and is wounded by him, 387
Bembo, Pietro, Cardinal, iv. 432, 465, 482
Benoit, Andrew, goes to Geneva, vi. 299
Berger, Nicholas, assassinated by Pennet, iv. 233
Bergeron, G., syndic of Geneva, i. 308
Bernard, Carmelite, martyrdom of, vii. 516
Bernard of Lublin, vii. 422
Bernard, Claude, iii. 277, 296, 314;
his daughter, 325, 327, 328;
rescues Froment, 347;
aids in rescue of Olivétan, 363;
leads Huguenots in the fight in the Molard, 416;
receives evangelists into his house, v. 245, 247, 250;
proposes suppression of the mass, &c., 275
Bernard, Jacques, superior of Franciscans, converted by Farel’s preaching, iv. 254; v. 251;
preaches in convent church, 251;
undertakes a public disputation, 253;
ten theses, 254, 255, 263;
at the debate, 265 sqq.;
appointed pastor at Geneva, vi. 414
Bernard, John, i. 57, 134, 256; ii. 333
Bernard, Louis, throws off his priestly robes, iv. 283;
marries, 305;
writes to Calvin, vii. 14
Berne, i. 154, 155, 182;
friendly to Geneva, 276, 277;
embassy to Geneva, 280;
exiles at, 283;
receives news of Huguenot triumph at Geneva, 302;
alliance with Friburg and Geneva, 303, 305, 306, 307, 308, 310, 376;
Genevese and Savoyard deputations to, ii. 307;
admonishes duke of Savoy, 338;
warns Geneva, 338;
triumph of the Scriptures at, 346;
Bernese Lutherans at Geneva, 385, 390, 392, 400, 420;
prepares to succour Geneva, 424, 432;
asks help of Geneva, 442;
refuses help to Geneva, 445;
deputies propose renunciation of alliance, 446;
demands it again, 449;
Genevese embassy to, 450;
alliance maintained, 450;
joint-suzerain of Orbe, iii. 205;
orders that all fathers of families should attend Farel’s preaching, 217;
opens churches at Granson to reformers, 238, 239;
with Friburg publishes first act of religious liberty in Switzerland, 244;
intervenes in favor of religious liberty at Geneva, 365;
counter embassies to, from Geneva, 402, 403, 404;
embassy to Geneva, 428;
the deputies counsel yielding to the bishop, 453;
sends Farel to Geneva, iv. 207;
embassy to Geneva, 215;
protects the reformers, 216;
compels opening of a church to them, 219;
insists upon trial of Furbity, 220;
deputies assist at his examination, 243 sqq., 255;
farewell of the embassy, 256;
intervention on behalf of Maisonneuve, 273;
Genevese embassy to, 309;
exhorts Savoy and Burgundy to cease hostilities against Geneva, 317, 318;
intervenes for Maisonneuve and Janin, 322;
supports duke of Savoy, 340;
refuses aid to Geneva, v. 316;
negotiates with duke of Savoy on its behalf, 360;
helps Geneva, 372;
declares war against duke of Savoy, 373;
march of the army under Nägueli, 374;
demands sovereignty of Geneva, 397;
reduction and annexation of Vaud, 398;
the envoys at Aosta, 450, 451;
the Bernese take Yverdun, and abolish Romish worship, vi. 229;
edict issued for disputation at Lausanne, 234;
ordinances for the Pays de Vaud, 263;
treaty with Lausanne, 265;
issues edict of reformation for the Pays de Vaud, 272;
synod of, 320;
another synod convoked, 327;
a patched-up peace, 327;
another synod, 327 sqq.;
deputies of, at Geneva, support the malcontent Huguenots, 340;
letter to the Reformers, 348;
an embassy to Geneva promised, 348;
and not sent, 349;
sanctions the Genevese confession, 350;
dismissal of Megander, 367;
deputation of country pastors to Berne, 367, 368;
views of Bernese on church and state, 371;
on worship, 372;
convoke a synod at Lausanne, 373;
letters to Calvin and the Council of Geneva, 376;
letter of the council to the Genevese on behalf of Calvin and Farel, 418;
delegates sent with them to Geneva, 431;
received by the council, 433;
dispute about treaty with Geneva, 512;
a new treaty, 513;
quarrel about it, 514;
summons the Genevese to a trial at Lausanne, 516;
sentence against Geneva, 516;
proposes fresh discussion, 517
Berquin, Louis, arrested and liberated, i. 332;
his character, 332;
preaching in Artois, 332;
assailed by priests and nobles, 333;
his books examined by the Sorbonne, 334;
imprisoned, 335;
interrogated, 343;
threatened with the stake, 343;
proceedings stopped by Francis I., 344;
partial liberation, 358;
set free, 377;
his task, 378;
resolves to attack the papal power, 403;
letter to Erasmus, 404;
rejects advice of Erasmus, 405;
attacks Beda and the Sorbonne, 406;
censured by Erasmus, 407;
abuse of, 431; ii. 30;
judges appointed to try him, 33;
Margaret’s intercession, 34;
arrested, 35;
his letter discovered, 35;
sentence pronounced, 36;
appeals, 37;
efforts of Budaeus, 38;
a fall and a recovery, 39;
sentenced to be burnt, 40;
execution hurried on, 41;
martyrdom, 43 sqq.;
effect on spectators, 44, 55
Berthaud, appointed to preach in Paris, ii. 117;
his end, 119;
confined by the king’s orders, 125;
forbidden to preach, 228;
burning of, demanded by Beda, 231;
set free, 234;
arrested, iii. 113;
before the king, 117;
sent to a convent, 125
Berthelier, Philibert, Genevese patriot, i. 2;
his character and aim, 30, 36, 39;
accepts from the Bastard the government of Peney, 40;
friendship with Bonivard, 47, 50;
tears up his commission, 56;
his school of liberty, 59, 64;
frustrates attempt of the duke to seize Levrier, 64;
his intercourse with Bonivard, 66, 67, 68;
calls a meeting of patriots, 69 sqq.;
his exhortation to unity, 70;
watched by agents of the bishop, 71;
practical joke about Claude Gros’ mule, 73;
threatened with a fine by the vidame, 74;
scheme to get rid of him, 76, 80;
demanded by the bishop, 83;
warned, 83;
escapes with the Friburgers, 84;
the search for him, 84;
at Friburg, 84;
his speech to the guilds, 86;
offered a pardon by the duke, 92;
alleged to be a ‘charmer’ 97;
his return to Geneva, 110;
promotes the Swiss alliance, 110;
obstacle to destruction of liberty, 112;
his trial, 112;
his energy and devotion, 130, 131;
his proposition for consultation of patriots, 134;
his friendship with Marty, of Friburg, 136;
rouses the Genevese to action, 143;
tried by the syndics and acquitted by the council, 144;
rejects bribe offered by the duke, 153, 160, 161, 173, 178, 185;
the bishop ‘watches for’ him, 188;
his serenity, 188;
his retreat, 188;
arrested, 189;
in prison, 190;
his religious faith, 191;
refuses to be tried by Desbois, 192;
proposal to rescue him, 193;
sentence of death, 195;
execution, 196;
procession through Geneva, 196;
impression produced by his death, 197;
sanguis semen, 198, 213, 282;
his memory honored, 314; iv. 210
‘Bésolles war,’ the, i. 181, 207
Beyaerts, Jan, vii. 550, 551;
removes pictures from the churches, 552;
arrested, 554, 555
Beza, Theodore, i. 386, 396, 398; ii. 8, 19, 21, 22;
birth and early life of, first meets Calvin, 23
Bible, the, in French, prohibited in France, i. 342;
difficulty of obtaining at Paris, ii. 87;
Latin, of Stephens, 87;
first French published, v. 272;
act passed by Scottish parliament for freedom to read, vi. 163
[Tyndale, Cromwell, Cranmer, and names of various versions]
Biderman, John [Blanchet]
Billik, Carmelite, papal delegate at Ratisbon, viii. 102
Bilney, Thomas, character and opinions of, iv. 77;
his preaching, 78;
friendship with Latimer, 78;
arrested, 79;
attempts of monks to convert him, 79;
his trial, 80;
condemned, 80;
his last evening, 81;
martyrdom, 82, 83, 93
Bishopers and Commoners, at Geneva, ii. 329, 350
Bishops, of England, their reply to petition of the Commons, iv. 13, 14;
the reply criticised, 15;
resist attack on their privileges, 17;
their subterfuge, 18;
alliance with the king against reformers, 72;
attempt to impose on lower clergy the payment promised to the king, 73 sqq.;
begin persecution of Lutherans, 77;
submit to the king, 89;
their oath at consecration, 89;
renounce orders of the pope prejudicial to the king, 90;
election of, regulated, 180;
declare the papacy a human invention, 181;
suspension of their jurisdiction, v. 83;
decline to answer German envoys, viii. 156;
find a compromise impossible, 180, 181;
protest against referring the translation of the Bible to the universities, 257
Bishops, government by, i. 284, 285;
arguments for temporal power, iii. 452
Bishops in Denmark, excluded from the Diet, vii. 220
‘Bishop’s Book,’ the, viii. 261
Blancherose, physician, takes part in disputation at Lausanne, vi. 242, 245, 250, 253, 254
Blanchet, i. 69;
his adventures, 109;
imprisoned at Turin, 114;
his examination, 115;
tortured, 116, 121;
sentenced to death, 122;
beheaded, 123;
treatment of his remains, 123, 124;
agitation in Geneva, 124, 127, 182
Blois, Roussel and Lefèvre at, i. 363;
a ‘placard’ on the king’s door, iii. 106
Bockhold [John of Leyden]
Bocking, Friar, instigates imposture of Maid of Kent, v. 8, 9;
before Star Chamber, 15
Bocquet, Christopher, preaches at Geneva, iii. 329;
again, 336, 353;
ordered to leave Geneva, 354
Boehmer, Edward, his researches on the brothers Valder, iv. 457 note, 467 note
Bohemia, the Reformation in, vii. 417;
the Calixtines, 417;
the Taborites, 417
Boiling to death, penalty for poisoning, iv. 68
Bois-le-Duc, martyrs at, vii. 537
Boisseau de la Borderie, Jean, iii. 46
Bologna, Conference of, ii. 142 sqq.;
another congress, iv. 22;
meeting of Clement VII. and Charles V., 126;
beginning of reformation at, 451;
address of evangelicals to John of Planitz, 452
Bologna, University of, appealed to by Henry VIII. on his divorce, iv. 40;
the judgment, 41
Boniface VIII., Pope, ii. 461
Boniface, Cardinal bishop of Ivrea, arrests Curione and his friends, iv. 416
Bonivard, Francis, his arrival at Geneva, i. 46;
birth and education, 46;
friendship with Berthelier, 47, 50, 57;
rejects proposal made to him to seize Levrier, 63, 64;
warns him, 64;
his character, 67;
fascinates Berthelier, 67;
their intercourse and aims, 67, 68;
his difference with the bishop, 72, 76, 80, 83, 96;
attempts to save Pécolat, 98;
resolves to ‘bell the cat,’ 100;
gets inhibition of the metropolitan served on the bishop, 100;
his advice to Pécolat’s friends, 103, 104;
goes to Rome, 117;
what he saw there, 118;
fails in his suit for bishopric, 120;
warned of danger at Turin, 121;
his flight, 121;
discouraged, 131, 134, 143, 151, 153;
his speech in chapter, 157;
his protest, 159;
pacifies the people threatening the canons, 160, 161, 168, 169;
escapes from Geneva, 173, 175;
betrayed, 185;
compelled to resign his priory, 186;
imprisoned by the duke, 186, 191, 199;
set at liberty, 211, 245, 255, 264;
his estimate of La Baume, 265;
restored to his priory, 314;
advocates expulsion of the prince-bishop, ii. 329, 334, 336;
detested by papal party, 348;
threatened with expulsion from his priory, 348;
his estimate of excommunication, 349;
reflections on state of Geneva, 352, 353;
his reply to proposal of Huguenots, 354;
his fief at Cartigny, 358;
maintains reciprocity of rights between prince and subject, 358;
obtains support of the council to his claim, 359;
takes possession of Cartigny, 360;
loses it, 360;
his expedition to recover it, 360;
his grass mown by Pontverre, 371;
among the Lutherans, 385;
his raids to recover his rents, 401;
fires at the papal proctor, 401;
illness of his mother, 402;
obtains safe-conduct to visit her, 403;
at Seyssel, 403;
slandered at Geneva, 403;
perplexity, 404;
safe-conduct extended, 405;
proposes to give up his priory, 405;
at Moudon, 406;
journey to Lausanne, 406;
kidnapped, 407;
imprisoned at Chillon, 408;
treatment, 408;
liberation of, demanded and refused, 432;
incidents of his confinement, v. 399;
orders given for his death, 400;
liberated, 401;
made free of city of Geneva, marries, 416;
a prediction fulfilled, 417, 418
Bonivard, Jean Aimé, prior of St. Victor, i. 46;
orders his culverins to be cast into church bells, 47;
his death, 47
Bonner, Edmund, envoy to Marseilles, iv. 168;
forces his way into the pope’s palace, 169;
presents the king’s appeal to a council, 170;
threatened by the pope, 173;
ambassador in France, viii. 177;
conveys to Cromwell the Bibles printed at Paris, 177;
appointed bishop of London, 202;
declares against Cromwell, 211;
his activity, 237;
assails Grafton, 238;
persecutes citizens of London, 238 sqq.;
admonitions to his diocese, 257
Borthwick, Sir John, cited before Cardinal Beatoun, escapes to England, vi. 127;
his property confiscated and his effigy burnt, 128;
withdraws from the court, 168
Bothniensis, Nicolaus, president of assembly at Upsala, vii. 340
Bothwell, Earl of, opens negotiations on the part of Scottish nobility with Northumberland, vi. 85;
withdraws from the court, 168;
sides with Beatoun, 169;
prohibits preaching of Wishart in Haddingtonshire, 194;
arrests him, 196;
gives him up to the regent, 197
Boulet, Bernard, treasurer of Geneva, i. 257;
assaulted by Richardet, 258;
his friends turn it to account, 259;
reports it to ducal council, 259;
appears at a general council, 260;
condemned, 285
Bourbon, Constable of, i. 325, 337
Bourges, University of, ii. 23;
centre of reformed doctrine, 24, 29;
declares for divorce of Henry VIII., iv. 40
Bouteville, Prior of, iii. 14, 17
Boxley, fraud of monks at, v. 89
Brandenburg, George, margrave of, vii. 392
Brask, bishop of Linkoping, resolves to suppress the Lutheran heresy, vii. 242, 243;
entreats the pope that Olaf may be sentenced to death, 244, 257;
his violence, 262;
remonstrates with Magnus, 263;
demands trial of the reformers, 263;
circulates books against them, 264;
his services to Sweden, 268;
letters to Gustavus, 268;
excommunicates Olaf, 268;
stirs up the people against him, 269;
censures the primate, 276;
attends diet of Westeraas, 282;
at secret meeting of the bishops, instigates opposition to reforms, 283;
gains Thure Joensson, 284;
his speech at the diet, 287;
deprived of his castle, 294, 295;
leaves Sweden, 295;
his death, 295
Brereton, William, arrested, v. 136;
examined, 148;
beheaded, 159
Briconnet, bishop of Meaux, i. 355, 366, 428; ii. 57; iii. 76
Brion, Denis, burnt, iv. 364
Brothers, enmities of, viii. 99;
love of, 119, 120
Brouwart, Jean de, i. 349
Brown, George, made archbishop of Dublin, v. 131
Bruccioli, translates New Testament into Italian, iv. 410
Bruly, Pierre, preaches at Ghent, vii. 546;
removes to Strasburg, 547
Brunswick, beginning of reformation at, viii. 319;
evangelical preaching decreed, 319;
organization by Pomeranus, 320
Brussels, the reformation at, vii. 565;
persecution, 568 sqq.
Bucer, reformer, his qualifications as peacemaker, ii. 02;
his confidence in Margaret, 63;
letter to Luther, 63, 88, 89, 183;
interview with William Du Bellay, 245;
mission of Chelius to, 263;
his proposals examined before Francis I., 264 sqq.; iii. 67;
his opinion of Servetus, 86, 150, 152, 153, 154;
with Calvin visits Erasmus, 156;
condemns divorce of Henry VIII., iv. 42, 349, 352, 353;
prepares to go to France, 361;
his works read in Italy, 408;
joint envoy to Henry VIII., v. 118;
proposes a conference with Calvin, vi. 275;
advocates union of Lutherans and Zwinglians, 324;
defended by Myconius and Grynæus at Basel, 325;
gets another synod held at Berne, 327;
with Capito goes to Berne, 327;
his views, 328;
agrees to Calvin’s view of the sacrament, 329;
revises Megander’s catechism, 366;
attends synod of Zürich, 422;
invites Calvin to Strasburg, 445;
acquaintance with Juan Diaz, viii. 101;
delegate to conference of Ratisbon, 102;
writes to Cranmer, 147, 187
Buchanan, George, sent to Paris, vi. 16;
his epitaph on Madeleine of Valois, 108;
account of him, 118;
imprisoned, 119;
escapes to France, 119
Buckmaster, Dr., vice-chancellor of Cambridge University, iv. 29, 30, 31, 37;
presents the sentence on the divorce to the king, 37;
conference with the king, 38
Budaeus, William, ii. 9;
one of the judges on trial of Berquin, 36;
tries to save him, 38 sqq., 40, 50, 65, 140;
present at torture of De la Croix, 242; iv. 393
Budé, Matthew, goes with Juan Diaz to Geneva, viii. 101
Bugenhagen [Pomeranus]
Bullinger, iv. 353; vi. 323; vii. 23; viii. 144, 145;
dedicates works to Henry VIII., 146, 147
Bulls, papal, proclamation of Henry VIII. against, iv. 44
Burgos, viii. 38, 41
Burgundians, at Geneva, i. 9;
compilation of code, i. 9;
first and second kingdoms of the, 9
Burgundy, Marshal of, takes part with Savoy in advance on Geneva, iv. 310, 315
Burrey, Denis, governor to Erick, son of Gustavus Vasa, vii. 325, 326;
goes in search of Erick and is slain by his order, 329
Bursinel, meeting of knights at, Order of the Spoon instituted, ii. 355
Butler, John, writes to Bullinger, viii. 198
[Students, English]
Cadan, peace of, ii. 255; iv. 373
Cadena, Louis of, opposes scholasticism, viii. 16;
his exile, 17
Cajetan, Cardinal, sent into Hungary, vii. 351
Calcagnini, Celio, iv. 427
Calixtines, the, in Bohemia, vii. 417;
correspond with Luther, 418, 421;
the majority adopt his views, 421
Calmar, blockaded by the Danes, vii. 246
Calmar, Union of, vii. 121;
violated by Sweden, 128;
dissolved, 257
Calvi, bookseller of Pavia, circulates the works of the reformers, iv. 407, 408
Calvin, i. 2, 4;
distinction between his reformation and that of Luther, 4;
his influence on politics, 4;
his disciples in foreign countries, 5;
founder of American republic, 5;
the charge of despotism against him, 5;
his plea for Servetus, 6;
his work, 68, 317;
his great idea, 319;
the complete reformer, 321;
his origin, 322;
compared with Margaret of Angoulême, 323 sqq.;
enters college of La Marche, 381;
influence of Mathurin Cordier on him, 382, 383;
removes to Montaigu College, 384;
a Spanish professor, 385;
classical studies, 385;
his moral and devout character, 386;
a strict Romanist, 386;
a hard student, 386;
has a benefice, visits Noyon, 387;
first breath of the new Gospel, 387;
friendship with Olivétan, 388;
chronology of his student life obscure, 388;
intercourse with Olivétan, 389;
resists Olivétan’s innovations in religion, 389;
secret struggles, 390;
alarm of his teachers, 390;
confession to the priest, 391;
distress of mind, 391;
conversion, 394;
reverence for church authority, 396;
investigates claims of the pope of Rome, 397;
longing for unity with truth, 398;
results of his conversion, 398;
its date, 399;
shyness and reserve, 400;
his father’s grief and plan, 400, 401;
consents to study law, 401, 404
—, goes to Orleans, ii. 1;
enters household of Duchemin, 2;
falls under influence of L’Etoile, 3, 4, 5;
proctor of the Picard nation, 6;
demands the maille de Florence at Beaugency, 6;
a close student, 7;
visits house of F. Daniel, 8;
acquaintance with Wolmar begins, 9;
studies Greek, 10;
his fellowship with Wolmar, 11;
inward struggles, 11;
accused of schism, 12;
sympathy with the Psalmist, 12;
phases of his conversion, 14;
renunciation of the world, 15;
his motto, 16;
his great qualities recognized, 16;
study of the Bible and of the law, 17;
sought as a teacher, 17;
teaches in families, 18;
called to Noyon, 20;
his father’s illness, 20 sqq.;
his first extant letter, 21;
first meeting with Beza, 22;
goes to Bourges, 23;
reads works of Luther and Melanchthon, 24;
Wolmar’s appeal to him, 25;
hesitation, 25;
preaches, 27;
intrigues of priest, 28;
again called to Noyon, his father’s death, 29, 47, 48;
curé of Pont l’Evêque, 49;
preaches, 49;
goes to Paris, 50, 51;
his visitors, 51 sqq.;
visit to a nunnery, 52;
social habits, 54;
renounces the law, 54;
speaks at secret meetings, 55;
his extensive correspondence, 56;
returns to Paris, 58;
observant of the Sorbonne, 60;
works in obscurity, 61;
his activity, 87;
rejects Daniel’s proposal of office in Roman church, 84;
his commentary on Seneca, 85;
publishes it, 86;
form of his name, 86;
makes his book known, 87;
a search for Bibles, 87;
interview with a young ‘Frondeur,’ 89;
writes to Bucer, 89;
intercourse with La Forge, 90;
with Tillet, 91;
abstinence, 92;
first intercourse with Margaret of Navarre, 93;
declines to enter her service, 93;
quoted, 123;
preaches at Paris, 138, 176, 178, 183, 184;
his labors at Paris, 198;
writes address for Cop to deliver, 199;
the address, 199;
his idea of a universal church, 202;
in favor with Margaret, 205;
interview with her, 205;
his arrest ordered by the parliament, 209;
escapes, 210;
recognized on his way, 211;
in concealment, 212, 262;
his narrative of conversion of the provostess of Orléans, 272 sqq.
—, flight, iii. 4;
received by Du Tillet, 6;
his Doxopolis, 8;
his studies, 9;
sketches his Christian Institutes, 10;
combats materialism, 12;
love of nature, 13;
teaches Greek, 14;
visits prior of Bouteville, 15;
conferences, 16;
sermons, 18;
preaches in Latin, 18;
visits Roussel, 22;
visits Lefèvre, 23;
goes to Poitiers, 44;
attends disputations at the university, 45;
his friends, 47;
his teaching, 47;
visits the lieutenant-general, 48;
in the garden, 48;
his grotto, 51;
view of the mass, 52, 53;
sends evangelists into France, 58;
care for the young, 60;
leaves Poitiers, 64;
renunciation of Roman orders, 64, 65;
goes to Paris, 66;
saddened, 77;
first contact with the Spirituals, 78;
attacks them, 81, 82;
encounters Servetus, 86;
agrees to conference with him, 87;
Servetus absents himself, 87;
first theological work, Psychopannychia, 88;
his bitterness, 89;
leaves Paris, 91;
reaches Strasburg, 91;
comments on procession of relics, 127 sqq.;
his mission, 149;
received by Zell, 150;
friendships, 153;
his estimate of Strasburg reformers, 153;
meets Erasmus at Friburg, 156;
goes to Basel, 157;
received by Catherine Klein, 157;
silent growth, 159;
friendships, 160;
his book on Immortality criticised, 161;
translation of New Testament, 162;
hears of persecution at Paris, 163;
his plea for compassion, 163;
effect of the martyrdoms on him, 169;
resolves to publish his Institutes, 170;
goes to the fountain head, 171;
account of the Institutes, 172, 180;
letter to the king, 182;
publication of the Institutes, 191;
starts for Italy, 192;
his object, 193;
agreement of Luther and Calvin, 368;
in preparation for Geneva, 458
—, his influence in England, iv. 2;
condemns divorce of Henry VIII., 42;
his place in the Reformation, 208;
protests against union with popery, 353;
writes to Francis I., 383;
welcomes Caraccioli at Geneva, 464;
expected at Ferrara, 489
—, expected at Ferrara, v. 421;
arrives at Ferrara, 421;
his interviews with the duchess, 422, 423;
preaches, 426;
his portrait painted by Titian, 431;
intercourse with Master François, 431 sqq.;
his letter to Duchemin, 436, 437;
writes to Roussel, 439 sqq.;
his influence in Italy, 441;
arrested by the Inquisition, 444;
rescued, 445;
his wanderings, 446;
reaches Aosta, 447, 451;
‘Calvin’s farm,’ 452, 453;
monuments of his flight, 454;
returns to France, 455;
at Noyon, 455;
arrives at Geneva, 456;
meeting with Farel, 458;
consents to stay at Geneva, 462;
visits Basel, 463;
his vocation as reformer, 464;
his concession to the state, 465;
his place in history, 466 sqq.;
mention of him in a council minute, 469
—, his arrival at Geneva, vi. 221;
refuses any official charge, 222;
reader in holy Scripture, 222;
character of his teaching, 223;
his view of church discipline, 225;
retained by advice of the council, 228;
goes with Farel to Lausanne, 228, 236;
his speeches at the disputation, 247, 255;
begins to take part in church government, 273;
his work compared with Luther’s and Zwingli’s, 275;
elected pastor at Geneva, 276;
biographies of him, 276 note;
prepares a catechism, 280, 281;
and a confession of faith, 282;
his memoir on order in the church, 285 sqq.;
requires that all should profess the reformed faith, 292;
encounters the Spirituals, 299 sqq.;
intervenes between Viret and Caroli at Lausanne, 300, 307;
accused of Arianism by Caroli, 308;
his reply, 309;
avoids use of the term ‘Trinity,’ 310;
writes to Megander, 312;
goes to Berne, urges assembly of a synod, 312;
at synod of Lausanne, 313;
unmasks Caroli, 315;
his confession on the Trinity, 315;
his views of the early creeds, 317;
confronts Caroli at synod of Berne, 320;
his speech at another synod, lays the storm between Zwinglians and Lutherans, 331, 332;
gains support of the civil power in church affairs, 333;
pleads for the hospitals and the schools, 334;
proposes compulsory swearing to the confession of faith, 337;
at the council, 347;
goes to Berne, vindicates himself and the reformers, 348;
applies to the council for their support, 350;
proposes to the council to exclude the disturbers from the Lord’s Supper, 352;
difference with Du Tillet, 356;
blames the proceedings of the government and is warned to let it alone, 364;
writes to Bucer, 370;
excluded by Berne from colloquies of the Vaudois, 372;
sent with Farel and Jean Philippe to synod of Lausanne, 373;
has conference with Bernese delegates, 375;
before the council, 377, 378;
protests against imprisonment of Courault, 383;
refuses to accept order for adoption of Bernese usages, and is forbidden to preach, 386;
his perplexity, 389, 390;
with Farel declines to administer the supper, 392;
his embarrassment, 392, 393;
preaches, 398, 399;
a disturbance in the church, 401;
banished, 403;
is refused a hearing by the council, 405;
sentence of the general council, 406;
his reflections, 408;
leaves Geneva, 409;
goes to Berne, 416;
with Farel complains to the council, 416, 417;
at synod of Zürich, 421 sqq.;
his demands, 422;
returns to Berne, 426;
interview with Kunz, 427;
before the senate, 429;
reconducted to Geneva by Bernese, 431;
banished by vote of general council, 439;
at Berne, 441;
at Basel, 442;
at Strasburg, 445;
returns to Basel, 446;
settles at Strasburg, 447;
his letter to the Genevese, 453;
his position at Strasburg, 456, 457, 458;
pastor and teacher, 459, 460;
his view of the Lord’s Supper, 461;
his poverty, 462;
at Frankfort, 473;
meets Melanchthon, 474 sqq.;
replies to Sadoleto, 487 sqq.;
intercourse with Caroli, 498;
refuses to return to Geneva, 504;
household troubles, 504;
marriage projects, 505, 506;
Idelette de Bure, 508;
married, 509;
difference between wives of Luther and Calvin, 510;
attends assembly at Hagenau, 511;
fruits of exile, 526
—, his recall desired, vii. 3;
letter to his friends, 3, 4, 5;
his perplexity, 6, 9, 10;
deputy to conference at Worms, 7;
receives letter of recall, 8;
his reply to Geneva, 10, 11;
meets Melanchthon and Cruciger at Worms, 15;
friendship with Melanchthon, 15 sqq.;
his Song of Victory, 19;
deputy to diet of Ratisbon, 21;
letter to Bernard, 21;
loses his friend Feray, 23;
his estimate of Contarini, 25;
his part at Ratisbon, 26;
his reply to manifesto of the papacy, 27-36;
resists concessions made by the Protestants, 37;
writes against reference to a council, 38;
his moderation, 39;
complains of the princes, 40;
leaves Ratisbon, 41;
at Strasburg, 42;
edict of expulsion revoked, 43;
writes to Farel, 47;
leaves Strasburg, 48;
visits Farel at Neuchâtel, 49;
returns to Geneva, 51;
his house there, 52, 53;
benefit of his Strasburg life, 53;
before the council, 54, 55;
colleagues appointed to draw up with him articles of a constitution of a church, 55, 56;
his project of the ordinances, 60;
his desire for frequent communion, 74;
limits of his responsibility for ecclesiastical ordinances, 80, 81;
his active duties, 82;
his preaching, 82;
his method, 83;
his sermon to young men, 86;
on fitful devotion, 87;
on self-love, 88;
on grace unbounded, 90;
on predestination, 92;
his impartiality, 103;
efforts for peace, 104;
gentleness and strength, 105;
loses his friend Porral, 110;
illness of his wife, 110;
reconciles Pierre Tissot and his mother, 112, 113;
his place in the Reformation, 115 sqq.;
his doctrines moderate, 117;
compared with Zwinglius, 117;
his desire for union, 118
—, correspondence with Enzinas, viii. 98;
visited by English students, 144;
his view of the Six Articles, 189
Cambray, treaty of, ii. 61
Cambray, bishop of, his cruelties, iii. 437
Cambridge, University of, appealed to by Henry VIII. on his divorce, iv. 30;
meeting of the doctors, &c., 30;
a committee appointed, 31;
sentence, 32;
disowns primacy of the pope, v. 20
Camillo, Giulio, invited to Paris by Francis I., iii. 74
Campbell, Alexander, prior of the Dominicans, his interviews with Patrick Hamilton, vi. 52;
reports them to Beatoun, 53;
accuses him on his trial, 62;
insults him at the stake, 67;
dies mad, 68
Campbell, John, of Cessnock, protects Lollards, vi. 6;
denounced by monks, 7;
acquitted by James IV., 8
Campeggio, papal legate, ii. 144;
deprived of See of Salisbury, iv. 180;
at diet of Nürnberg, 410, 411;
reclaims see of Salisbury, v. 173
Canaye, Jacques, iii. 75
Canirmius, Frederick, vii. 500
Canons, i. 157;
conspiracy of, at Geneva, 311;
imprisoned, ii. 326;
liberated, 331;
quit Geneva, 332
Canterbury, visitation of, v. 85, 86;
state of the monasteries, 86, 87
Capito, i. 361, 380; ii. 246; iii. 150, 153, 154, 244;
writes to Calvin, vi. 275;
at synod of Berne, 329;
agrees to Calvin’s view of the sacrament, 332;
attends synod of Zürich, 421;
approves the course taken by Farel and Calvin, 424, 425;
his distress, 464;
dedicates a book to Henry VIII., viii. 147
Cappel, battle of, ii. 256, 442;
announced at Geneva, 444; iii. 166
Caraccioli, Galeazzo, iv. 464;
friendship with Caserta, 464;
converted, goes to Geneva, 464;
made cardinal, v. 64
Caraffa, Giovanni Pietro, Cardinal, iv. 476, 479, 482;
made cardinal, 487; viii. 149
Cardinals, college of, refuses consent to papal gift of Geneva to Savoy, i. 52;
hats asked for by Charles V., Francis I., and Henry VIII., ii. 162
Carlstadt, invited by Christian II., goes to Denmark, vii. 133;
offends by his violent speech and is dismissed, 135, 136
Carmentrant, a creature of the Bastard of Savoy, i. 71, 72, 112
Carne, Sir E., envoy with Revett to the pope, v. 3, 4;
interview with Du Bellay at Bologna, 4;
too late, 5
Carnesecchi, Pietro, among friends of Valdez, iv. 473;
character and career of, 473;
his power under Clement VII., 474;
goes to Naples, has interview with Charles V., 473;
religious decision, 476, 477, 479, 480
Caroli, Peter, escapes to Switzerland, iii. 123;
accounts of, v. 259;
Farel’s interview with him, 261;
offers himself as umpire at a disputation, 262;
takes part in disputation, 266 sqq.;
at disputation of Lausanne, vi. 243 sqq.;
made first pastor of Lausanne by the Bernese, 265;
his career and character, 303, 304;
between Rome and the Gospel, 304;
quarrels with Viret, 305;
condemned to made a retractation, 307;
but is spared, 307;
his ambition, 307;
accuses Calvin and others of Arianism, 308;
retracts the charge, 311;
unmasked and condemned at synod of Lausanne, 314, 318;
appeals to Berne, 318;
agitation caused by the debates, 319, 320;
at synod of Berne, exposed by Farel, 321, 322;
deprived of his functions and banished, 322;
his flight, 322;
turns to the reformers, vi. 498;
at Strasburg, 498;
goes to Metz, 499;
his death, 499
Carranza, Bartholomeus, birth and early life of, viii. 112, 113;
denounced to the Inquisition, 113;
promotions, 113;
his influence at Valladolid, 113;
his almost evangelical teachings, 113;
fervor of his preaching, 118;
preaches before Philip II., in London, 118;
assertion of evangelical faith, 120;
elected primate of Spain, 120;
his last years, 120;
preaches at the burning of San Romano, 123
Cartelier, Francis, i. 41, 150, 168;
gives signal for entry of Savoyards into Geneva, 171, 176, 181, 300;
character, ii. 308;
condemnation, 308;
pardoned by the bishop, 309
Carthusians, of London, refuse to take oath of succession, v. 47;
take it, 48;
commanded by the king to reject papal authority, 59;
their resolution, 59;
a general confession, 60;
again commanded to acknowledge royal supremacy, 60;
three priors sent to the Tower, 61;
and found guilty of high treason and executed, 62, 63
Casale, Da, agent of Henry VIII. at papal court, v. 64, 77;
informs the pope of divorce of Queen Anne, 161, 172
Caserta, Giovanni Francesco, iv. 464
Cassander, George, account of, viii. 40, 41
Cassilis, Kennedy, Earl of, taken prisoner by the English, vi. 146;
liberated and sent to Scotland by Henry VIII., 157;
on failure of Henry’s scheme, returns to captivity, 171;
released with his brothers, 171;
a friend of Wishart, 192
Catherine of Aragon, Queen of Henry VIII., iv. 26;
refuses arbitration, 67;
leaves Windsor, 71;
writes to the pope, 87;
refuses to appear before Cranmer at Dunstable, 133;
her firmness, 133;
the divorce pronounced, 134;
her cause and fate compared with Anne’s, 137, 138;
joins in conspiracy against Henry VIII., v. 13;
her firmness, 19;
her marriage declared null and her child illegitimate, 19;
writes to Mary, 111;
refuses to renounce title of Queen, 111, 112;
austerities, 112;
illness, letter to the king, 114;
her death, 115
Catherine de’ Medici, i. 363;
marriage of, with Henry duke of Orleans, proposed by Francis I., ii. 149;
what she brought to France, 150;
intrigues around her, 152;
full powers sent by Francis for concluding the contract, 155;
escorted to Nice by French fleet, 189;
the marriage celebrated at Marseilles, 195;
in her train, Death, 195;
and corruption, 196, 215; iii. 49;
opposes plans of Francis I., iv. 355
Caturce, Jean de, studies New Testament, ii. 78;
at Twelfth Night Supper at Limoux, 78, 79;
arrested, 79;
condemned to be burnt, 81;
his degradation, 80;
a Dominican preacher confounded, 81;
burnt, 81
Cauvin, Gerard, i. 387, 400; ii. 20 sqq., 29, 48
— Anthony, ii. 48, 49
— Mary, ii. 48
Cazalla, Augustine, attends lectures of Carranza, viii. 115;
his mother, 115;
preacher to Charles V., accompanies him to Germany, 115
Celibacy of the clergy, iv. 115
Chablais, Provena de, summons Geneva to receive duke Charles III., i. 165;
declares war, 166
Chabot, put to the torture, iv. 325
Chabot, Philippe de, ii. 184
Chaillon, Anthony de [Bouteville]
Chamois, François, at Geneva, demands withdrawal of Calvin’s ‘Confession,’ vi. 484
Champion, Anthony, bishop of Geneva, i. 26;
his attempt to reform the clergy, 27
Chapeaurouge, Etienne de, syndic of Geneva, i. 292;
endeavors to stop the fight in the Molard, iii. 418;
appointed syndic, iv. 242;
again, v. 394;
refuses to swear to the Confession, vi. 340;
at the general council, 343;
elected syndic, 361;
one of the delegates to Berne, 512;
signs a treaty, 513;
again sent to Berne, 514;
arrested, liberated on bail, 516;
his flight, 518;
sentenced to death, 519
Chappuis, Eustace, i. 91;
employed to make a breach between the Swiss and the Genevese, 91;
at Friburg, 92;
Savoyard ambassador to Swiss Diet, 153, 200;
Imperial ambassador to England, iv. 22
Chappuis, Dominican, intrigues for duke of Savoy, ii. 369, 370;
banished from Geneva, 370, 371;
takes part in great disputation, and is ordered to leave Geneva, v. 265
Charlemagne, at Geneva, i. 11, 12;
characteristics of his age, vi. 317
Charles V., i. 9, 91, 218, 234, 266;
receives news of battle of Pavia, 324;
his projects, 324;
proposes dismemberment of France, 325;
receives Margaret of Valois, 328;
unmoved by her appeals, 329;
proposes to imprison her, 336;
consents to liberate Francis I., 337;
the treaty, 337, 356, 363, 379;
accuses the Evangelicals, ii. 70, 103, 106;
repulses Soliman, 107;
passes into Italy, 108;
at Bologna, 142;
his schemes, 143;
demands a general council, 143;
conference with the pope, 144;
appeals to the cardinals, 145;
proposes Italian League against Francis I., 146;
amused with scheme of marriage between Henry, duke of Orleans, and Catherine de Medici, 150;
tries to prevent it, 152 sqq.;
proposes marriage of Catherine with Sforza, 153, 154, 155;
his new manœuvres, 156;
rejects scheme of a lay council, 160;
gets Italian League formed, 162;
asks for cardinal’s hat, 162;
his displeasure against Henry VIII., 162;
leaves Bologna, 163;
tries to prevent meeting of the pope and Francis I., 186;
demands justice for Queen Catherine, his aunt, 186;
tries to draw the Swiss into the Italian League, 187;
unconcerned about his brother’s danger, 250, 254, 283;
sack of Rome, 319;
supports Savoy against Geneva, 390;
interferes at Geneva, 395;
will crush Protestantism, 421;
censures attack on Geneva, 421;
at Augsburg, 429;
his letter to the Genevese, 430;
counsels the bishop to cede Geneva to son of the duke of Savoy, 452;
gives audience to Bellegarde, iii. 262;
his answer, 263, 264;
orders Genevans to extirpate the Reformation, 273;
meets the pope at Bologna, iv. 22;
receives embassy from Henry VIII., rebukes the ambassador, 26;
leaves Bologna, 27;
war with Solyman, 116;
conferences with Clement VII., 117;
exasperated at divorce of Catherine, 164, 177;
his ambassadors oppose policy of Clement, 177;
supports duke of Savoy and bishop of Geneva, 342, 344, 454, 455, 458;
hears Occhino preach, 468;
prohibits intercourse with Lutherans, 472;
calls Carnesecchi before him, 475;
ordered to execute the pope’s sentence against Henry VIII., v. 4;
preparations, 5, 21;
censures execution of More and Fisher, 76;
offers Milan to Francis I. and secures his alliance, 113;
keeps Milan, 115;
promises support to English Catholics, 202;
writes to Henry VIII., 221;
requires the Swiss to aid duke of Savoy against Geneva, 315;
destruction of Geneva part of his plan, 370;
keeps Milan, 377;
concludes alliance with James V. of Scotland, vi. 86;
attempts to prevent disputation at Lausanne, 233;
convokes a conference of theologians at Frankfort, 473;
at Diet of Ratisbon, vii. 26;
interviews with Christian II. of Denmark, 138, 184;
favors enterprise of Lübeckers in behalf of Christian, 207, 208;
his attachment to the Netherlands, 481;
his edict of persecution, 488;
introduces the Inquisition, 491;
his characteristics, 507, 508;
his persecution in the Netherlands, 508;
concludes peace of Madrid, 520;
alliance with the pope, 524;
treaty of Cambray, resolves to extirpate evangelical doctrine, 524;
issues a new edict of persecution, 534;
patronises Virves, viii. 18;
rescues him from the Inquisition, 19;
appoints Ponce de la Fuente one of his chaplains, 34;
at Diet of Ratisbon, 55;
gives audience to San Romano, 55;
his victory over duke of Cleves, 64;
appoints De Soto his confessor, 64;
enters Brussels, 67;
entertained by Mendoza, 69;
invades France, 85;
returns to Brussels, 85;
promulgates edicts of persecution, 85;
his treatment of his mother Joanna, 126;
his birth, 129;
conditionally approves marriage of Henry VIII. with duchess of Milan, 175;
interview with Sir T. Wyatt, 200 sqq.;
alliance with Henry VIII., 267;
invades France, concludes a separate peace, 268
Charles the Bold, i. 313; iii. 236
Charles III., the Good, duke of Savoy, i. 29;
his character, 32;
his scheme for getting possession of Geneva, 33, 34;
claims the culverins of Bonivard, 48;
his character, 48;
made sovereign of Geneva by Leo X., 50;
the bull recalled, 52;
rebukes the bishop, 62;
sends La Val d’Isère to arrest Levrier, 63;
conspires with the bishop against Levrier and Berthelier, 65;
goes to Geneva, 75;
visits Lyons, 79;
alarmed at the bishop’s proceedings, 91;
employs Chappuis, 91;
goes to Friburg and Berne, 92;
renews alliance with the Swiss, 92;
determines to put Pécolat to death, 96;
plots with the bishop at Geneva, 111;
receives embassy from Genevese about death of Blanchet and Navis, 128;
another embassy, 132;
demands death of Berthelier and others, 134;
resolves to break alliance of Swiss and Genevese, 145;
his embassy to Geneva, 146;
tampers with the Friburgers, 152;
gains support of Swiss diet, 154;
intrigues with the canons of Geneva, 157;
secretly raises an army, 162;
surrounds Geneva, 162;
insolent embassy, 163;
formally summons Geneva, 165;
declares war, 166;
plots with the Mamelukes, 168;
at castle of Gaillard, 169;
grants a truce, 171;
attacks Geneva, 171;
his promises, 172;
enters the city, 174;
pillages it, 176, 177;
his proclamation, 179;
imprisons Bonivard, 186;
with the bishop restricts liberties of Geneva, 203;
returns to Turin, 205;
his marriage, 218;
attempt to seduce the Genevese, 218;
entry into Geneva, 219 sqq.;
declines to attend the ‘mystery,’ 228;
birth of a son, 234;
his attempts at usurpation resisted by Levrier, 239 sqq.;
fails in attempt to gain him, 240;
claims sovereignty of Geneva, 240;
unmasks his batteries, 242;
frightens the episcopal councillors, 244;
threatens Levrier with death, 245;
orders his seizure, 246;
offers to give up Levrier in exchange for liberties of Geneva, 250;
his oppression of Genevese, 261;
threats of his council, 265;
blows hot and cold, 266;
demands the superior jurisdiction, 267;
begins persecution of Huguenots, 269;
his troops in Geneva, 270;
alarmed at exodus of the patriots, 277;
demands withdrawal of appeal to Rome, 278;
urges on persecution of Genevese, 278;
enters Geneva, 279;
foiled by Swiss intervention, 281;
his stratagem, 281;
detected, 282;
a new scheme, 285;
assembles a general council at Geneva, 286;
claims sovereignty, 287;
his amnesty, 288;
received as protector, 288;
thwarted, 289;
leaves Geneva, 289;
sends de Lullins to Berne, ii. 307;
plots against bishop of Geneva, 322;
his scheme against Geneva, 323;
its failure, 323, 324;
irritation against the bishop, 330;
orders Genevese to liberate the canons, 331;
claims and threats, 338;
tries to win the bishop, 343;
claims authority in matters of faith, 350;
rebukes the canons, 351;
reconciled with the bishop, 362;
convokes a synod, 367;
intrigues to make his son prince of Geneva, 368;
sends the silver keys, 369, 370;
instigates dissolution of Swiss alliance, 389;
sends embassy to Geneva, 390;
seeks help of the pope, 393;
covets St. Victor’s, 402;
meets the bishop at Gex, 415;
will attack Geneva, 416;
censured by the emperor, withdraws his army, 422;
prepares another attack, 432;
Diet of Payerne, 432;
threatens Geneva, 445;
withdraws, 447;
desires cession of Geneva to his son, 452;
prepares another attack, 453;
sends Bellegarde to the emperor, iii. 262;
forms new plot against Geneva, iv. 308;
his troops march for Geneva, 311;
panic and retreat, 314, 315;
advised by the Swiss to cease from hostilities, 317, 336;
attempts to gain over the Genevese, 341;
prepares to ruin Geneva, 342;
forbids his subjects to attend disputation at Geneva, v. 257;
applies to the pope for intervention at Geneva, 301;
the de Montfort of the crusade, 314;
his supporters, 314;
summons Genevese to expel heresy and restore the bishop, 317;
prepares for war, 319;
orders attack on Geneva, 357;
receives Bernese deputation at Aosta, 361;
asks for a truce, 362;
orders attack, 366;
sends another army under Medici, 370;
offers cession of territory, including Geneva, to Charles V., 377
Charles de Syssel, bishop of Geneva, i. 29
Charles of Egmont, vii. 509;
his letter to the pope, 509;
his persecution of Lutherans, 525, 526
Charles, duke of Sudermania, head of Protestants in Sweden, vii. 340;
administrator of the kingdom, then king, 340;
convokes assembly at Upsala, 340
Chautemps, Jean, ii. 455;
character of, 457;
visits Farel, iii. 277, 331;
receives Froment, 348;
aids in rescue of Olivétan, 363, 414;
proscribed by the bishop, 439;
escapes, 441;
his wife Jaquéma seized, 442
Chelius, Ulric, his mission to Wittenberg, ii. 260 sqq.;
visits Melanchthon, 261;
Luther, 261;
Bucer, 263;
Hedio, 264;
returns to Paris, 264
Children, assemblage of, join Catholic bands at Geneva, iii. 383, 385
‘Children of Geneva’, i. 73, 88
Christaudins of Meaux, i. 427 sqq.;
one of them burnt at Paris, 427
Christian II., king of Denmark, his character and aims, vii. 126;
marries Isabella, sister of Charles V. 127;
favors the papal legate, 127;
suppresses revolt of Sweden, 128;
his vengeance, massacre of the nobles and prelates, 129, 130;
his interest in the Reformation, 130;
publishes a code, 134;
meets Charles V. in the Netherlands, 135;
consents to repel the Lutheran doctors, 135;
alliance formed against him, 136;
influence of Sigbrit over him, 136;
submits to the States, 137;
his flight, 137;
seeks aid of Charles V., Henry VIII., and other princes, 138;
deserted, 138;
a hearer of Luther, 138;
death of his wife, 139;
persuades Michelsen to publish translation of New Testament, 145;
his intrigues, 184;
obtains a fleet and an army and lands in Norway, 185;
acknowledged king there, 186;
invades Sweden and is repulsed, 186;
submits to Frederick, 187;
his letter to Frederick, 188;
goes to Copenhagen and is made prisoner of state, 188, 189;
confined at Sonderburg, 190;
Luther’s letter in his behalf, 192;
enterprise of the Lübeckers, 207;
flies from Stockholm, 256;
set aside, and his dominions divided between Frederick and Gustavus, 265
Christian III., king of Denmark, vii. 147;
sent to Germany, becomes a Lutheran, 148;
signs articles of capitulation of Copenhagen, 149;
resumes government of the duchies and demands electoral diet, 195;
elected king by diet in Jutland, 211;
besieges Lübeck, 211;
proclaimed king, 212;
defeats the Lübeckers, 213;
invests Copenhagen, 213;
visits Sweden, 213;
receives surrender of Copenhagen, 215;
enters the city, 216;
consults the leading men, 216;
introduces representation of the people, 218;
invites Pomeranus to organize the new church, 221
Christina, duchess of Milan, sought in marriage by Henry VIII., viii. 174;
the match conditionally sanctioned by Charles V., 175;
the treaty broken off, 175
Christopher, son of duke Ulrich, of Würtemberg, birth and early life of, ii. 108;
saved from the Turks, 108;
at diet of Augsburg, 109;
his project, 109;
follows Charles V. to Italy, 110;
his escape, 110;
protected by duke of Bavaria, 111;
claims Würtemberg, 111;
his character and protectors, 112, 142;
his claim considered by Francis I. at Avignon, 216;
his intercourse with Du Bellay at Augsburg, 217;
his supporters, 218;
his cause won, 220;
returns to Würtemberg, 253;
won to the Reformation, 255
Chrysostom, cited, ii. 18; iv. 46
Church and State, separate spheres of, distinguished by Bonivard, i. 158;
separation of, in Geneva, advocated by dukes of Savoy, 241;
confusion of two provinces, ii. 352;
conflict of, in England, iv. 60, 88, 307;
the church made department of the state by Henry VIII., v. 24;
three kinds of relation between, 28;
twofold enfranchisement, 250;
separate existence of, 406; vi. 353, 354;
difference between Berne and Geneva about, 371;
relation of, at Geneva, vii. 78 sqq.;
Melanchthon’s view of, questioned, viii. 157
Church, the true, iv. 124
Church Government, views of Bucer and Melanchthon, ii. 267, 268;
church in transition, iii. 328
Clarenbach, Adolph, preaches in Guelderland, vii. 525;
burnt at Cologne, 526
Claude, pastor of Ollon, iii. 302
Claude de Genève, proscribed by the bishop, iii. 439
Clement VII., Pope, i. 239, 261, 266;
authorizes persecution of Lutherans in France, 331;
approves treaty between Charles V. and Francis I., 337, 402;
thwarts Henry VIII., ii. 103;
French embassy to, 105;
alarmed, 106;
at Bologna, 142;
opposed to a general council, 143;
conference with Charles V., 144;
reasons for inaction, 145;
a disciple of Machiavelli, 146;
‘moves softly,’ 146;
agrees to marriage of Catherine de’ Medici with Henry duke of Orleans, 149;
promises an Italian state to Francis I., 149;
refuses to marry Catherine to Sforza, 153;
asks Francis I. for full powers for marriage contract, 153;
receives them, 155;
altercation with Charles, 156;
joins the Italian League, 162;
leaves Bologna, 164;
agrees to meet Francis I., 164;
announces marriage contract of Catherine to the cardinals, 185;
obstacles raised to his journey to France, 186 sqq.;
makes up his mind to go, 188;
opinions about the voyage, 190;
arrives at Marseilles, 191;
the Latin address to him, 193;
his promises to Francis, 194;
publishes bull against heretics, 194;
officiates at marriage of Catherine de’ Medici, 195;
departs for Rome, 197;
failing health, 197;
declines to help King Ferdinand, 250;
alarmed at progress of Philip of Hesse, 253;
appealed to for help by duke of Savoy, 393;
his attainments, and perplexity, 395;
grants subsidy to the duke, 396;
a grace to Geneva, 433;
publishes another, 434;
publishes a Jubilee, 460;
commands bishop of Geneva to return, iii. 424;
meets Charles V. at Bologna, iv. 22;
troubled about English embassy, 23;
his brief to Henry VIII., 24;
gives audience to English ambassadors, 25;
puts off Cranmer, 28;
nominates him grand almoner, 43;
English address to him, 43;
proposes bigamy to Henry VIII., 44;
calls upon him to take back Catherine, 87;
conferences with Charles V., 117;
sends bulls for inauguration of Cranmer as primate, 121;
again suggests bigamy to Henry VIII., 125;
goes to Bologna, 126;
conferences with Charles V. about divorce of Henry VIII., 126;
murmurs against, in England, 127;
issues brief of excommunication against Henry, 128;
annuls Cranmer’s sentence, 138;
cites Henry to appear at Rome, 164;
revokes proceedings of English courts and excommunicates the king, 164;
meeting with Francis I., 167;
creates four French cardinals, 169;
Henry’s appeal to a council presented to him by Bonner, 170;
his wrath, 171;
conversation with Francis I., 172;
rejects the appeal, 173;
threatens Bonner, 173;
accord with Francis I., 177;
consents to a council, 176;
holds a consistory, 181;
promises condemnation of Henry VIII., 182;
disquieted, 183;
appeal of Geneva to, 340;
death of, 354;
alarmed by spread of Lutheranism in Italy, 410; v. 3, 22, 48;
sends Cardinal Cajetan into Hungary, vii. 351;
writes to F. Frangipani to support Catholic faith in Hungary, 369;
co-operates with Charles V. in persecution in the Netherlands, 509;
his brief to the bishop of Liége, 509;
issues new species of indulgences, 512;
alliance with Charles V. at Barcelona, 524
Cleyne, Martin van, vii. 547
Clifford, Lord, holds Skipton Castle for the king, v. 209
Cloet, Jerome, vii. 549, 550;
arrested, 556
Clotilda, wife of Clovis, i. 9
Clovis, conversion of, i. 9
Cochlaeus, writes to James V. of Scotland against circulation of the New Testament, vi. 91, 92;
invited to Denmark, declines to go, vii. 161, 162;
papal delegate at Ratisbon, viii. 102
Coiffard, ii. 51
Coligny, iii. 3
Colladon Family, The, Calvin’s friendship with, ii. 27
College of Navarre, Paris, the priests’ comedy performed, ii. 174;
search of police for author, 179;
arrest of the actors and the head of the College, 179
Colonna, Vittoria, friend of Valdez, iv. 465
Comet, apparition of a, iii. 313; iv. 187
Commons, House of, its petition to Henry VIII., iv. 10 sqq.;
the bishops called upon to answer it, 12
Communal liberties, destroyed by princes and bishops, i. 111
Communion, frequent, recommended by Calvin, vi. 285
Compey, Philibert de, proscribed, iii. 439, 457
Conciliation, needful, iii. 196
Confession of Faith, prepared by Farel and Calvin, vi. 282;
questions as to its authorship, 284;
adopted by Council of Geneva, 289
Confession, Auricular, in England, demanded by some of the bishops, rejected by Henry VIII., viii. 190
Conscience, rights of, iii. 1, 2
Constance, Council of, i. 19; ii. 245
Contarini, Gaspare, Cardinal, iv. 366;
ambassador to Charles V. at diet of Worms, 484;
senator of Venice, 484;
ambassador to the Pope, 484;
at coronation of Charles V., 485;
joins Oratory of Divine Love, 485;
created cardinal, 485;
his views of church reform, 487 sqq., 490;
at diet of Ratisbon, vii. 25;
advises a reference to a council, 38
Conversion, i. 399, 401
Convocation of the clergy, in England, at St. Paul’s, v. 180;
division and strength of parties, 181;
Latimer’s sermon, 181 sqq.;
lay element, 184;
denunciation of the mala dogmata, 185;
Alesius admitted, 188;
refused admission, 190;
character of Convocation, 190;
accepts the king’s Articles of Religion, 195;
remedial measures passed, 196;
dissolved by the king, 197;
declares for divorce of Anne of Cleves, viii. 231, 232;
discussion about translation of the Bible, 256, 257
Cop, Nicholas, Professor, visits Calvin, ii. 52, 53;
intercourse with Calvin, 93;
rector of the Sorbonne, 180;
his speech on the priests’ comedy, 180, 181;
delivers address on ‘Christian Philosophy,’ 200;
its effect, 202;
his heresies laid before the parliament, 202;
his defence, 203;
summoned before parliament, 206;
goes in state, 206;
is warned and returns home, 207;
escapes to Switzerland, 208;
intercourse with Calvin, iii. 160
Copenhagen, surrenders to King Frederick vii., 149;
Diet of, 171;
methods of procedure of the two parties, 172;
the Lutheran Confession, 172, 174;
charges of the prelates, 177;
reply of Evangelicals, 177;
a public discussion rejected by the prelates, 178;
appeal of the Evangelicals to the king, 180;
Master Mathias, 181;
success of the pastors, 182;
iconoclasts, 183;
popular rising for liberation of Tausen, 201;
entered by the Lübeckers, 208;
besieged by army of Christian III., 213;
state of the city, 214;
capitulates, 215;
entered by the king, 216;
the university reorganized by Pomeranus, 222
Coppet, conference at, v. 341
Coppin, one of the Spirituals, iii. 77
Cordier, Mathurin, at College of La Marche, i. 382;
influences Calvin, 383;
influenced by him, 384;
flies from Paris, iii. 124;
teaches in schools of Geneva, vi. 296;
banished, 467
Cornelis, Giovanni, sets out for Wittenberg, iv. 415;
arrested, 416
Cornou, Jean, burnt, iv. 364
Cornu, Pierre, Cordelier, ii. 135
Cortesi, Gregorio, iv. 482
Cotta, Otto Melia, joins in plot against Paleario, iv. 440, 441;
one of a deputation to archbishop of Siena, 444;
at trial of Paleario, 447
Council, General, demanded by Charles V., opposed by Clement VII., ii. 143 sqq.;
rejected by Clement, 157;
reasons pro and con, 157;
called for by the cardinals, 254
Council, Lay, proposed by Francis I., ii. 158;
would constitute a revolution, 158;
rejected by Charles V., 160;
arrangement at council of Trent, 160
Council of Halberds, i. 287 sqq.
Courault, appointed to preach in Paris, ii. 117;
his preaching, 118;
confined by the king’s order, 125;
forbidden to preach, 228, 229;
burning of, demanded by Beda, 231;
set free, 234;
opposes the placards, iii. 95;
arrested, 113;
before the king, 117;
sent to a convent, escapes to Switzerland, 125;
meets Calvin at Basel, 164;
reports the prosecution, 164;
urges acceptance of Calvin’s Confession by all the Genevese, vi. 292;
attends synod of Lausanne, 313;
forbidden to preach, 377;
preaches at St. Peter’s, 381, 382;
arrested and imprisoned, 382;
a protest against his imprisonment, 383;
bail refused, 384;
banished, 403, 407;
leaves Geneva, 409;
takes refuge at Thonon, 412;
his death, 448
Courtelier, Father, sent to Geneva, iv. 246;
submits his doctrines to the council, 246;
his sermon, 247;
interview with Farel, 250;
his preaching compared with Farel’s, 257;
gives evidence against Maisonneuve, 297, 298
Coverdale, Miles, iv. 2;
account of, v. 197;
his Bible, 198;
the king’s sanction to it refused, 198;
accompanies Grafton to Paris, to prepare new edition of Tyndale’s Bible, viii. 177 [Grafton]
Coxe, Leonard, gets John Fryth liberated, iv. 141, 142
Cracow, Luther’s doctrines introduced at, vii. 430
Cranmer, Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury, presents to Henry VIII. his treatise on the king’s marriage, iv. 23;
ambassador to the pope at Bologna, 23;
his audience put off, goes to Rome, 28;
nominated grand almoner by the pope, 43;
sent to Nürnberg, 114;
intercourse with Osiander, 114;
marries, 116;
negotiates with Elector of Saxony, 116;
with imperial chancellor, 116;
selected by the king for primate, hesitates, 117;
goes to Italy, attends meeting of the pope and the emperor, 117;
returns to England, 118;
objection to the primacy, 119;
consents, 121;
sends the pope’s bulls to the king, 121;
his protest, 121;
consecrated, 122;
takes the oath, 122;
energy and weakness, 123;
papal order interred at his consecration, 124;
his letter to the king, 131;
a second, 132;
receives royal licence, 132;
his court at Dunstable, Henry VIII. and Catherine summoned, 133;
pronounces divorce of the king and queen, 134;
declares marriage of Henry and Anne Boleyn lawful, 135;
his sentence annulled by the pope, 138;
appointed one of Fryth’s judges, 151;
wishes to save him, 151, 159;
detects imposture of Maid of Kent, v. 15;
leader of evangelical party, 22, 46;
his explanation of royal supremacy, 50, 51;
his character, 53, 54;
proposes translation of the Bible, 55;
a compromise, 55;
proceeds with the task, 56;
visitation of London and Winchester, 57;
his sermon at visitation of Canterbury, 85, 98, 99:
intercedes for Princess Mary, 111;
his communications with Queen Anne, 120, 130;
hears of the queen’s arrest, 142;
writes to the king, 143;
his false conscience, 144;
the charges laid before him, 145;
declares null the marriage of the king with Anne Boleyn, 160, 184, 186, 190;
signs the king’s Articles of Religion, 195;
suggests remedial measures, 196;
his cowardice and submission to the king, 226;
asks permission for Tyndale’s Bible to be sold, 227;
baptizes Edward (VI.), viii. 141, 146;
urges union with German Protestants, 153;
conference with German envoys, 154;
presses them to delay their return, 155;
has a conference with Lambert, 165;
condemns his views, 166;
at Lambert’s trial, 170;
speaks against the Six Articles, 183;
retains his see, 184;
courted by the king, 185, 186;
a banquet, 186;
necessary to the king, 186;
difficulty of filling his place, 186;
his Bible published, 205;
writes to the king in behalf of Cromwell, 212, 213;
absents himself from parliament on the reading of bill of attainder, 218;
consents with Convocation to divorce of Anne of Cleves, 231;
his provision for education of ministers set aside, 236;
conspiracy against him, 241;
accused to the king, 243;
interview with him, 244, 245;
receives the king’s ring, 245;
summoned before the council, presents the ring, 246;
formally reconciled with the lords, 247;
embarrassed by disclosures of Lascelles against the queen, 248;
reports them to the king, 249;
sent with Norfolk to examine the queen, 250;
receives her confession, 250;
in favor, 256;
introduces a Bill for the Advancement of Religion, 260;
its absurdities, 260;
obtains modification of Six Articles, 261;
revises the King’s Book, 261;
plot of bishops and priests against him, 263;
interview with the king, 263;
acquitted by the commission, 264;
pleads for Marbeck, 266;
interview with the king on his death-bed, 307
Crawar, Paul, burnt at St. Andrews, vi. 5
Crespin, John, goes with Juan Diaz to Geneva, viii. 101
Crocus, Cornelius, account of, vii. 532;
undertakes to write against Luther, 531;
writes against Sartorius, 533
Crome, Dr., forbidden to preach, viii. 240;
his falls and recovery, 272
Cromwell, Sir Richard, commissioner for visitation of monasteries, v. 84
Cromwell, Thomas, iv. 37;
presents to the king Tyndale’s Practice of Prelates, 53;
writes to Vaughan, 57;
suggests attempt to gain Fryth, 59;
his expedient for making the king supreme over the clergy, 61;
announces it to Convocation, 62;
demands recognition of royal supremacy, 63;
character of, 87;
advises abolition of papal power in England, 87;
in advance, 89;
sends the Maid of Kent to the Tower, v. 15;
Protestant leader, 23, 46;
visits More and Fisher in the Tower, 64;
advises abolition of the monasteries, 81;
named vicegerent and vicar-general for visitation of churches and monasteries, 82;
his commissioners, 84;
lays the Black Book before parliament, 95, 98, 139, 161, 184;
his position at Convocation, 184, 186;
invites Alesius to attend, 186, 188;
signs the king’s Articles of Religion, 195;
made lord privy seal, and vicegerent in ecclesiastical matters, 197;
his instructions to the priests, 197;
his efforts in behalf of Tyndale, 219, 221, 226;
his report on birth of Edward VI., viii. 141;
presents works of Bullinger to the king, 146;
arrests Bishop Sampson, summons him before him, 162;
his interview with Lambert, 172;
extols the king, 173;
resolves to issue another edition of the Bible, 176;
orders seizure of the presses, types, &c., at Paris, 178;
his Bible completed, 178;
sanctions the Six Articles, 182;
quarrels with Norfolk, 185;
his aims, 192;
recommends Anne of Cleves to the king, 193;
conversations with the king, 196, 197;
blamed by Henry, 197;
his desire to have the Gospel preached, 201;
his measures, 206;
his speech in Parliament, 206;
his promotions, 207;
created Earle of Essex, 207;
his possessions, 207;
his fiscal measures, 208;
a note from the king, 208;
accused of treason and sent to the Tower, 209;
the charges against him, 210;
the real aim of his enemies, 211;
bill of indictment against him, 214;
denies alleged alliance with Pole, 215;
bill of attainder adopted, 216;
his alarm and distress, 216;
his letter to the king, 217;
the bill passed, 218;
renewed examinations, 218;
again writes to the king, 219;
anxiety for his family, 220;
his last days, 221;
his confession and prayer, 222-224;
his execution, 224;
his character, 224
Culdees, the, their influence in Scotland, vi. 4, 5
Culpeper, viii. 253;
beheaded, 254
Culverins, Prior Bonivard’s, i. 47;
claimed by duke of Savoy, 48
Curione, Celio Secundo, birth and early life of, iv. 413, 414;
reads Luther, Melanchthon, and Zwinglius, 414;
sets out for Wittenberg, 415;
arrested, 416;
placed in a monastery, 416;
puts the Bible in place of relics, 417;
escapes to Milan, 418;
his philanthropy, 418;
marries, 418;
returns to Piedmont, 418;
defends Luther against Dominican preacher, 420;
again imprisoned, 420;
harshly treated, 421;
prison thoughts, 422;
escapes, 423;
teaches at Pavia, 424;
attempts to seize him baffled, 425;
escapes to Ferrara, 425
Curtet, Aimé, appointed syndic of Geneva, iv. 242
Curtet, Castellan of Chaumont, burnt at Annecy, vi. 486
Curtet, Jean Ami, attempt to murder him, iii. 459; iv. 186
Cyriaci, Martin, goes to study at Wittenberg, vii. 347;
returns to Leutschau, 355
D’Adda, Stephen, iv. 232, 233
Dalecarlians, The, demand banishment of Lutherans, vii. 277;
declare for the pretender ‘Nils Sture,’ 278;
treat with Gustavus, 297;
revolt suppressed, 297
Danès, Pierre, ii. 51;
cited, 59;
at Council of Trent, 65;
accused by Beda, 230
Daniel, Francis, Calvin a visitor in his family, ii. 8, 9;
his sister a nun, 52, 57;
his views for Calvin, 84;
asks for Bibles, 87, 93;
Calvin’s letter to, iii. 8
—, Robert, ii. 58
Daniel of Valence, at Waldensian synod, iii. 255;
refuses to sign the new confession, 259;
goes to Bohemia, 260
Danish New Testament, published by Michelsen, vii. 145, 146
Dantzic, beginning of reformation at, vii. 424, 425;
opposition, 425;
toleration established, 426;
Romish worship abolished, 427;
invites Pomeranus, 427;
Hanstein sent, 428;
Catholic deputation to King Sigismund, 428;
his severity, 429;
preaching of Klemme, 429
Darcy, Lord, head of Catholic league, v. 202;
joins insurgents of Yorkshire, 206;
at Pomfret Castle, 209;
on the march southward, 210, 211;
executed, 213
Dates, coincidence of, iii. 131
Dauphiny, i. 349, 359; iii. 123
‘Day of the Ladders,’ ii. 384
De Bresse, i. 116
De Chalans, René, Count, Marshal of Aosta, ii. 405, 406, 408;
his hostility to the Lutherans, v. 449
De Cornibus, Pierre, invited to disputation at Geneva, v. 259
De Glautinis, accompanies Farel to Granson, iii. 235;
preaches 238;
insulted by monks, 238
De la Croix, Father Laurent, condemned as heretic at Geneva, ii. 235;
preaches in France, 236;
at Lyons, 236;
visits the prisons, 237;
escapes discovery, 237;
his Easter preaching, 240;
arrested and condemned to death, 240;
removed to Paris, 241;
before the parliament, tortured, 242;
condemned to be burnt, 243;
his degradation, 243;
martyrdom, 244
De la Fosse, (Barnabas Voré), sent to invite Melanchthon to France, iv. 358, 362, 365;
importance of his mission, 373, 374;
visits Melanchthon, 375, 378 sqq.
De la Mare, Stephen, Genevese envoy with Hugues to Friburg, i. 140;
elected syndic, 149;
interview with the bishop of Geneva, 186, 187, 206;
at general council, opposes Swiss alliance, 307;
goes to Switzerland with Mamelukes to break it off, 313;
appointed pastor at Geneva, vi. 414;
charges against him, vii. 4
De la Mouille, William, ii. 316, 362
De la Place, Pierre, iii. 14, 44, 47, 48, 50
De la Tour, Sieur, martyrdom of, with his servant, i. 414
Delorme, watches Maisonneuve at the tournament, iv. 226
Democracy, i. 320
Denia, Marquis of, keeper of Queen Joanna, viii. 128, 136, 137, 138
Denis, a Christaudin, i. 427;
his reconversion attempted by Briçonnet, 428;
burnt, 429
Denmark, beginning of the Reformation in, vii. 120 sqq.;
union of Calmar, 121;
the crown offered to Frederick, duke of Holstein, 137;
accepted by him, 142;
Michelsen’s translation of New Testament introduced, 146;
assembly of the council at Copenhagen, 153;
its resolutions against Lutherans and Lutheran books, 153;
progress of the Reformation in, 160;
alarm of the bishops, 161;
agitation, Diet of Odensee, 162 sqq.;
demands of nobles and priests, 164;
the royal ordinance, 165;
submission of the prelates, 165;
Diet of Copenhagen, 171 sqq.;
progress of the Gospel, 182;
death of Frederick, 193;
interregnum, intrigues of the priests, 195;
Electorial Diet opened, 196;
demands of the bishops, 196, 197;
the compact published, 198;
the election adjourned, 199;
edict for prosecution of Lutherans, 205;
polemical publications, 206;
invasion of the Lübeckers, 208;
Christian II. restored, 208;
assembly of the Diet in Jutland, 209;
proclamation of Christian III., 211;
surrender of Copenhagen, 215;
arrest of the bishops, 217;
first representation of the people in the Diet, 218;
charges against the bishops, 219;
the compact signed, 220;
the bishops excluded from the Diet, the Reformation established, 220;
the bishops liberated, 220;
constitution of evangelical church promulgated, 223;
separation of Sweden from, 265
Denny, Sir A., viii. 307
De Pesmes, Percival, iii. 366, 368, 376;
bears the banner of Geneva, 378, 379, 407, 411; iv. 207, 312;
escapes from Geneva, 316
De Prangins, Sire de Rive, Governor of Neuchâtel, v. 323;
forbids departure of auxiliaries for Geneva, 323;
orders the men to return home, 325
Derham, Francis, viii. 248, 250, 252;
hung, 253
D’Erlach, Sieur, Swiss envoy to Geneva, i. 154;
his speech, 154;
leads Swiss army to Geneva, ii. 424;
envoy with Nagueli to duke of Savoy, v. 361
Desbois, Jean, appointed to examine Berthelier, i. 192;
passes sentence of death on him, 195
Des Fosset, iii. 75
De Simieux, sent to Geneva to hunt up charge against Maisonneuve, iv. 291
Devay, Mathias Biro, his birth and early life, vii. 367;
conversion, 367;
goes to study at Wittenberg, 367;
returns to Hungary, 372;
his sympathy with Melanchthon, his completeness, 372, 373;
pastor at Buda, 373;
removes to Kaschau, 374;
successful labors, 374;
denounced to King Ferdinand, 375;
seized and carried off by the bishop of Eger’s agents, 375;
harshly treated in prison, 375;
cited before Bishop Faber, 376;
liberated, goes to Buda, 376, 377;
imprisoned by Zapolya, 377;
set at liberty, 378;
received by Count Nadasdy, at Sarvar, 378;
replies to Szegedy, 379;
visits Melanchthon at Wittenberg, 379;
at Basel publishes his works, 381;
returns to Hungary, 381;
his Grammar, 382;
his preaching, 382;
driven away by Turkish invasion, 391;
at Wittenberg, 391;
goes to Switzerland, 392;
becomes acquainted with Calvinism, 394;
returns to Hungary, 394;
pastor and dean at Debreczin, 397
De Veigy, canon of Geneva, his mission to duke of Savoy, ii. 351;
expelled from Geneva, 351;
examines Farel, iii. 288;
commands one of the bands against Lutherans, 378;
charged to burn out the Lutherans, 388; iv. 218
Deventer, envoys of Charles V. sent to inquire after Lutherans, refused admission, vii. 536
De Versonay, Marin, account of, iii. 411;
incites to conflict, 412
De Versonex, F., v. 309
De Vio, Cardinal, protests against preaching of Occhino, iv. 467
Diana of Poitiers, iv. 355
Diaz, Alonzo, informed of his brother Juan’s heresy, viii. 106;
goes to Ratisbon, 107;
consults with Malvenda, 107;
their schemes for finding Juan, 108;
finds him, 108;
takes leave, 110;
returns, murders Juan, 111;
flies to Innspruck, 111
Diaz, Juan, account of, viii. 100;
his conversion and friendships, 101;
goes to Geneva, 101;
visits Strasburg, 101;
delegate with Bucer to conference of Ratisbon, 102;
meets with Malvenda, 102;
resists his endeavors to win him back to the Pope, 103-105;
leaves Ratisbon, 109;
at Neuburg, 109;
visited by his brother Alonzo, 109;
declines to go to Rome, 110;
murdered by Alonzo, 111
Diaz, Peter, viii. 36
Diesbach, John of, commands Swiss auxiliaries at Pavia, iv. 321;
his widow seeks intervention of Berne, 322
Diesbach, Nicholas of, avoyer of Berne, iv. 321
Diesbach, Rodolph of, envoy to Court of France, iv. 322;
account of, 322;
pleads for Maisonneuve and Janin, 322;
succeeds, 328;
delivers them up to Genevese authorities, 329;
with Nägueli, envoy to duke of Savoy, v. 361
Diesbach, Louis of, Bernese ambassador to Pays de Vaud, v. 340;
at conference of Coppet, 340, 341, 343, 345;
seized by Savoyards and released, 350;
at Geneva, 355
Diesbach, Sebastian of, head of Swiss embassy to Geneva, i. 313;
again, ii. 391;
reports failure, 392;
deputy to Geneva, 445;
again, 449;
again, advocates religious liberty, iii. 428;
advises consent to episcopal citation, 453;
head of Bernese embassy to Geneva, iv. 215;
demands a disputation between Furbity and the reformers, 216;
at the tournaments, 218 sqq.;
colloquy with Furbity, 220;
demands his punishment, 221
Diplomacy, v. 339
Dispensations, papal, abolished in England, iv. 180
Dobszynski, writes in praise of Wycliffe, vii. 422
Dominicans, at Geneva, their vices, i. 44, 236; iv. 200;
compared with Franciscans, 245
Dort, beginning of Reformation at, vii. 485;
complaint of Dominicans, 486;
reply of Henry of Nassau, 486
Douglas, Gavin, competition for see of St. Andrews, vi. 10
Douglas, Sir George, guardian of James V., vi. 24;
discovers flight of the king, 73;
joins English army against the Scots, 138;
returns to Scotland, 158;
reinstated in his honors and estates, 161;
imprisoned, liberated, 184;
at the preaching of Wishart, 193
Doullon, Nicholas, martyrdom of, i. 393, 394
Du Bellay, Jean, bishop of Paris, Cardinal, ii. 50, 65, 74, 75;
appoints two evangelical monks to preach in Paris, 117;
warns the king of danger, 126, 134, 150, 152, 183;
delivers Latin address to the pope at Marseilles, 193;
ordered to persecute heretics, 196;
closes the churches, 228;
takes part in preparing French version of the reformers’ opinions, 284, 287; iii. 135; iv. 4, 7;
his efforts at mediation between England and the pope, 177;
awaits success, 181;
pleads with the consistory for delay, 181;
his ancestry, 356;
driven from France, 357;
at head of moderate Catholic party, 357;
advises the king to invite Melanchthon to France, 357;
created cardinal, 362;
ambassador to Rome, 365;
writes to Melanchthon, 365, 368;
interview with English envoys at Bologna, v. 4
Du Bellay, William, views of, ii. 95;
desires union of France and Germany, 95;
ambassador to Germany, 95;
at Schweinfurth, 97;
proposals to the Protestants, 99;
addresses the landgrave of Hesse, 100;
concludes agreement with Protestants, 102;
sent to England, 102;
negotiates alliance between Francis I. and Henry VIII., 103;
supports Christopher of Würtemberg, 112, 151;
his project of a lay council, 159 sqq.;
quoted, 162;
hopes of reformers fixed on him, 183;
opposes publication of bull against heretics, 194;
a friend of freedom, 215;
explains transition from Marseilles to Avignon, 216;
ambassador to Diet of Augsburg, 216;
negotiates with the Swiss Protestants, 217;
supports Christopher at Augsburg, 218 sqq.;
in Germany, 220;
negotiates with Philip, landgrave of Hesse, 222;
opposed by Luther and Melanchthon, 222;
has interview with Bucer at Strasburg, 246;
returns to Paris, 246;
estimate of Melanchthon, 246;
hopes, 253, 257, 260, 263, 282;
takes part in preparing French version of reformers’ opinions, 284;
submits it to the Sorbonne, 285, 287;
his estimate of Bucer, iii. 67;
ambassador in England, takes gifts for Francis I., iv. 39;
his ancestry, 356;
character, 356;
advises the king to invite Melanchthon to France, 357, 362;
letter to Melanchthon, 366, 367;
envoy to Smalcalde, 394;
has audience of Elector John Frederick, 395;
received by German princes and deputies, 396;
demands a congress, 397;
a consultation held, 398 sqq.;
receives reply of the princes, 404, 405;
failure of his mission, 405
Du Bourg, John, iii. 72;
arrested, 112;
his martyrdom, 120
Du Châtel, Pierre, ii. 65;
opposes persecution, iii. 113
Duchemin, Nicholas, character of, ii. 1;
Calvin in his house, 2, 7, 9;
appointed ecclesiastical judge, v. 436
Du Crest, Nicholas, premier syndic of Geneva, iii. 364, 374;
takes part in consultation for peace, 395;
envoy to Berne, 402;
fails, 405; iv. 190, 200;
searches the bishop’s palace, 235, 255;
escapes from Geneva, 316
Dumont, syndic of Geneva, deputy to the bishop, i. 460
Dumoulin, [Alexander Canus]
Dunbar, Gawin, archbishop of Glasgow, chancellor of Scotland, with the primate and other prelates placed at the head of the government, vi. 74;
deprives the nobles of their jurisdiction and sets up a College of Justice, 85;
presides at prosecution of Kennedy and Russel, 121;
intimidated by agents of Beatoun, condemns them, 122;
threatened by James V., 125;
becomes chancellor, 162;
opposes the law giving freedom to read the Bible, 162;
takes possession of church at Ayr, to prevent Wishart preaching, 187
Duncan, Andrew, captured by the English at Flodden, vi. 9;
attempts rescue of Patrick Hamilton, 59;
captured by Beatoun’s troops and banished, 59
Dunkeld, bishop of, counsels peace, vi. 16;
with other prelates placed at head of the Government, 74;
his interview with Thomas Forrest, 104
Dunstable, Cranmer’s court at, iv. 133 sqq.
Duprat, Cardinal, i. 342, 346, 360, 400, 409;
character and position, 410;
sides with Rome, 411;
at synod of Paris instigates persecution of Lutherans, 415;
appeals to Francis I., 416;
his ambition and aggrandisement, 417;
his quarrel with the parliament of Paris, 417;
combines with the parliament against Lutherans, 417, 429; ii. 33, 67, 120;
sent to Paris to stop intrigues of the Sorbonne, 126;
arrests Le Picard, 127;
his spies, 128;
summons the priests, 128;
the doctors of the Sorbonne, 128, 212, 218; iii. 113, 115
Dutch New Testament, published, vii. 501;
Old Testament, 517;
the whole Bible, 517
Duvillard, J., appointed syndic of Geneva, iv. 242
Eck, Dr., at Diet of Ratisbon, vii. 25;
declines invitation to Denmark, 162
Edinburgh, entered by Lord Hertford and English army, vi. 184;
pillaged and burnt, 184
Edward VI., King of England, proposal for his marriage with Mary Queen of Scots, vi. 157;
the treaty concluded, 165;
frustrated, 171;
his birth, viii. 141;
created Prince of Wales, 141;
hopes excited by his birth, 143
Egidius, John, preacher at Seville, viii. 22, 23;
his scholastic sermons, 23;
his interview with Valerio, 24;
conversion, 24, 25;
his evangelical preaching, 26;
interview with Ponce de la Fuente and Vargas, 27, 28;
division of labor with them, 29;
opposition aroused, 31;
loses his two friends, 34, 35;
schemes of his enemies, 35
Egmont, Nicholas van, inquisitor in the Netherlands, vii. 491, 493
Ehrard of Nidau, account of, v. 376
Einarsen, Gisser, vii. 228;
sent to Copenhagen, 228;
made bishop of Skalholt, 228;
his death, 229
Einarsen, Morten, elected bishop of Skalholt, taken prisoner by Bishop Aresen, vii. 229
Eliae, Paul, vii. 125;
interpreter of Reinhard, 131;
sent to Odensee, 131;
attacks Reinhard, 132;
preaches against Lutheranism, 147;
attends conference at Copenhagen, 171;
remains silent, 181;
publishes apology for the mass, 182;
draws up plea for the bishops, 206
Eliot, Nicholas [Students, English]
Eliot, Sir Thomas, begs for gift of convents, v. 99
Elizabeth, Queen, birth of, iv. 166;
excitement in London, 166;
commended to care of Parker, v. 133
Elizabeth of Arnex, plots against Farel, iii. 213;
her conversion, 226
Engelbrechtsen, Olaf, archbishop of Brontheim, receives Christian II., vii. 185;
flies to the Netherlands, 223, 224
England, laity and clergy, iv. 1;
Scriptural reformation, 2;
special character of Reformation in, 3, 4;
the Romish and political parties, 5;
the Society of Christian Brethren, 6;
Table-talk, 8;
popular excitement, 8;
petition of the Commons, 10;
reforms of the clergy, 16;
abolition of pluralism, 18, 19;
English address to the pope, 43;
the clergy predominant, 60;
royal supremacy recognized by clergy, 65, 66;
popular agitation, 67;
beginning of persecution, 76;
importance of choice of new primate, 113;
papal authority set aside by parliament, 130;
separation from France, 174;
general movement against papal supremacy, 178;
abolition of papal privileges, 179;
Romish exactions, 179;
the tree lopped, 180;
a critical epoch, v. 1, 2;
people and clergy against Rome, 7;
confusion, 53;
effect of execution of More and Fisher, 75, 76;
general visitation of churches and monasteries ordered, 82;
suppression of lesser monasteries, 96;
advantageous results, 100, 102, 103;
state of parties after Queen Anne’s death, 171;
sarcasms against the papacy, 180;
the King’s Articles of Religion published, 192;
evangelical reaction, 198;
prosecutions, 200;
insurrection in the North, 202 sqq.;
renewal of, 212;
invasion of, proposed by Paul III., vi. 109;
three parties in, viii. 140;
source and effect of the Reformation in, 140;
relations with Swiss reformers, 143;
various parties, attempt at compromise, 179 sqq.;
the Six Articles, 181 sqq.;
Cranmer’s Bible and others published, 205;
Catholic policy on marriage of Henry VIII., with Catherine Howard, 236
Enthusiasts, The, in the Netherlands, vii. 538 sqq. [Spirituals, The]
Enzinas, Francis de [Enzinas, The], returns to Burgos, interview with Peter de Lerma, viii. 41;
desires conversion of Spain, 42;
undertakes translation of New Testament, 43;
his acquaintance with Alasco, 43;
with Hardenberg, 43;
writes to Alasco, 44;
presents his sword to him, 45;
goes to Paris, 45;
attends death-bed of Peter de Lerma, 45;
goes to Wittenberg, 48;
completes his translation of the New Testament, 58;
visits Alasco and Hardenberg, reaches Louvain, 59;
at Antwerp, 59;
opinions on his New Testament, 60;
submits it to the dean of Louvain, 60;
obstacles, 61;
interview with the printer, 62;
with a Dominican, 63;
the title-page criticised, 63;
goes to Brussels, 67;
dedication of his New Testament, 67;
difficulty of access to Charles V., 68, 69;
interviews with Mendoza, 69;
presented to the emperor, 71;
the conversation, 71;
interview with De Soto, 72;
hears his sermon, 74;
interviews with him, 75 sqq.;
excitement in the convent, 78;
arrested, 79;
imprisoned, 79;
his dejection, 79;
consoled by Tielmans, 80;
his examination, 81;
reproached by friends, 82;
reads Calvin and the Psalms, 83;
his numerous visitors, 84;
failure of attempts in his behalf, 85;
resolves to fly, 88;
escapes, 89;
in danger at Mechlin, 90;
reaches Antwerp, 91;
a legend about him, 91;
another tale, 92;
his correspondence with Calvin, 93;
goes to Wittenberg, intercourse with Melanchthon, 94;
counsels his brother to leave Rome, 95;
hears of his death, 97;
writes to Calvin, 98
Enzinas, James de [Enzinas, The], at Paris, viii. 46;
his character, 46;
impressed by heroism of martyrs at Paris, 46;
his Catechism, 48;
sent by his father to Rome, 95;
his dissatisfaction, 95;
resolves to leave Rome, arrested by the Inquisition, 96;
his trial, 97;
his martyrdom, 97 sqq.
Enzinas, John de [Enzinas, The], settles in Germany, viii. 48
Enzinas, The, viii. 38;
sent to Louvain, 39;
their character, 39;
religious disposition, 39;
friendship with Cassander, 40;
study the Bible and read Melanchthon, 41;
[Enzinas, Francis de, James de, and John de]
Eperies, Conference of, vii. 410
Erasmus, i. 331;
approves Berquin’s propositions, 344, 378, 403;
attempts to restrain Berquin, 405;
again, 407;
his colloquies proscribed by the Sorbonne, 407;
shrinks from conflict, 408;
writes to Margaret of Angoulême, 412;
advice to Berquin, 432; ii. 1;
warns Francis I., 32, 299; iii. 155;
meeting with Calvin, 156;
breaks with him, 157, 166;
his followers, iv. 349, 454, 455, 458;
laments More, v. 75;
depicts court of Brussels, 222;
the ideal of John Alasco, vii. 434;
receives Alasco as his guest, 437;
his counsels, 438;
his controversy with Luther, 438;
esteem for Alasco, 440, 441;
mourns his departure, 441;
letter to Alasco, 442;
writes to King Sigismund, 448;
his coolness towards Alasco, 450;
friendship with Viglius, 476, 477;
a forerunner of reformation, 485;
assailed by theologians of Louvain, 487;
his opinion of the monks, 491, 517;
read in Spain, viii. 2;
writes to Valerio, 13, 14
Erdoed, Conference of, vii. 409
Erick, king of Sweden, the government resigned to him by Gustavus, vii. 323;
his character, 324;
seeks the hand of the princess Elizabeth of England, 325;
his character and attainments, 325;
instructed in Calvin’s principles, 326;
abolishes Catholic rites, opens Sweden to all Protestants, 327;
his madness, 328;
slays Nils Sture, 328;
his flight, 329;
slays Burrey, 329;
escapes from his guards, his wanderings, 329;
taken to Stockholm, 330;
conferences with his brother John, 330;
deprived and imprisoned, 331;
his treatment, 331;
his murder ordered by John III., 336, 337;
his death by poison, 337
Erick, St., Feast of, vii. 332
Eszeky, Emeric, preaches at Tolna, vii. 413;
application of the priests to pasha at Buda against him, 414;
declared free to preach, 414;
establishes a school, 414
Etampes, Duchess of, ii. 184
Europe, awakening of, i. 315
Evangelicals. [Lutherans, England, France, Geneva]
Evangelists, sent out by Calvin, iii. 58;
abuse of, 62
Excommunication, Calvin’s view of, vi. 286, 288
Exeter, Marquis of, charged with treason and executed, viii. 152
Faber, John, bishop of Vienna, writes against Luther, vii. 375;
appointed bishop, 376;
cites Devay before him, 376
Fabri, John, Friburg envoy to Geneva, i. 154, 155
Fabri (Chr. Libertet), iii. 161;
joins Farel at Morat, 202;
sent to Neuchâtel, 203;
removes to Bole, 305;
Catholic riot in his chapel, 306;
rising of Protestant peasants, 307;
another riot, 308, 309;
with Viret at Lausanne, vi. 229;
his trials, 270
Facts and Ideas, iii. 409
Faith and Science, iii. 61, 62; vi. 32, 33
Farel, William, i. 2, 305, 317;
at Strasburg, 362 sqq.;
light of France, 370;
invited to La Marche, 372;
his qualifications as reformer, 374;
hesitation, 375;
his connection with family of Mirabeau, 375;
preaches at Gap, 376;
arrested and rescued, 376;
school-master at Aigle, 377, 381, 386; ii. 100, 263, 436;
his perils, 439;
his attention fixed on Geneva, 439;
calls Toussaint to go there, 439;
consulted by evangelicals of Paris, iii. 94;
draws up a protest, 95;
the great evangelist, 199;
development and character, 199;
scene of his labors, 201;
at Morat, joined by Fabri, 202;
preaches at Orbe, 204;
at Avenches, 212;
again at Orbe, riot at his sermon, 212;
plot of women, 213;
assaulted and rescued, 214;
his strange congregation, 216;
another, 217;
sermon on penance, 217;
care for the ministry, 219;
meets with Viret, 221;
their friendship, 224;
the Lord’s Supper at Orbe, 227;
invites preachers into Switzerland, 232;
letter to Andronicus, 233 sqq.;
goes to Granson, 235;
rough reception at the convents, 237, 238;
goes to Morat, 238;
imprisoned at Granson, 239;
assailed in a church, 240;
invited to Waldensian synod, 251;
his journey, 253;
the discussions, 255, 257;
resolves to visit Geneva, 261;
reaches Geneva, 275;
consults with Olivétan, 275;
interview with Huguenot leaders, 277 sqq.;
agitation against him, 281;
appears before the town council, 282;
conspiracy against, 285;
summoned before episcopal council, 285;
the examination, 288 sqq.;
tumult, 289;
threats, 291;
assault, 291;
dangers, 292, 293;
banished, 293;
attempt to kill him, 295;
escapes, 297;
at Yvonand, 298;
invites Froment to go to Geneva, 298;
urges Olivétan to translate the Bible, 300;
sent by Bernese to Geneva, iv. 207;
his character, 208, 211;
at the tournament, 217;
disputation with Furbity, 222 sqq., 244, 247, 249;
interview with Father Courtelier, 250;
preaches in the convent at Rive, 253, 257;
domestic trials, 259;
letter to evangelicals of Paris, 259;
presides at first evangelical marriage, 278;
at first evangelical Pentecost, 282;
before the council, 306;
protests against union with popery, 353;
attempt to poison him, v. 246;
promotes a public disputation, 252;
invitations, 256;
interview with Caroli, 261 sqq.;
preaches at the Madeleine, 278;
summoned before the Council, 278;
preaches at the Cathedral, 281 sqq.;
before Council of Two Hundred, 293;
preaches to nuns of St. Claire, 302;
exhorts the council, 364, 366, 408, 409;
calls for a general confession, 410;
asks for help, 418;
meeting with Calvin, 458;
presses him to stay at Geneva, 459 sqq.;
urges the council to retain Calvin, vi. 228;
goes to Lausanne 229, 237;
his theses at the disputation, 237;
his opening speech, 238;
opposes protest of the canons, 238;
his closing discourse, 256, 259;
his search for pastors, 268, 269;
presents the confession of faith to the Council, 283;
his reverence for Calvin, 295;
made a citizen of Geneva, 297;
his depressed state, 312;
attends synod of Lausanne, 313;
with Calvin at the council, 347;
accompanies him to Berne, 348;
excluded by Berne from colloquies of the Vaudois, 372;
sent to synod of Lausanne, 373;
before the council, 377, 378;
protests against imprisonment of Courault, 383;
with Calvin declines to administer the Supper, 391, 392;
in defiance of prohibition preaches, 396;
a disturbance in the church, 397;
banished, 403, 407;
leaves Geneva, 409;
goes to Berne, 416;
at synod of Zurich, 420 sqq.;
returns to Berne, 426;
interview with Kunz, 427;
with Calvin before the senate, 430;
reconducted to Geneva by Bernese, 431;
banished by vote of general council, 439;
at Berne, 441;
at Basel, 441;
goes to Neuchâtel, 446;
his letter to the Genevese, 455;
urges Calvin to return to Geneva, vii. 22;
edict of expulsion revoked, 43;
deprived and banished from Neuchâtel, 49;
reinstated, 50;
a man of action, 114, 115
Farnese, Alexander [Paul III.]
—, Cardinal sent by the Pope to Charles V. at Ratisbon, vii. 26
Favre, Francis, Genevese deputy to Berne, ii. 307, 348;
assailed by Mamelukes, iii. 449;
envoy to Berne, iv. 309
Felix V. [Amadeus VIII.]
Feray, Claude, vii. 22, 23
Ferdinand, the Catholic, deprives his daughter Joanna of her crown and imprisons her, viii. 127;
assumes the government of Castile, 128;
meeting with Philip, 132;
agreement between them, 132, 133;
his secret protest, 133;
his delegate left with Philip, 134
Ferdinand, of Austria, King of Bohemia and Hungary, ii. 109;
invested with duchy of Würtemberg, 109, 217;
threatened by alliance of Francis I. and Philip of Hesse, appeals to the pope, 249, 250;
his army defeated by Philip, 253;
loses Würtemberg, 255;
attempts to maintain papal power in the duchy, 255;
opposes Zapolya and is crowned King of Hungary, vii. 364;
publishes edict against the Lutherans, 365;
supported by Charles V., 370;
annuls edict of toleration, 370;
less hostile to the Reformation, 384;
appoints a conference between the bishops and Szantai, 384;
his embarrassment, 386;
interview with the bishops, 386, 387;
banishes Szantai, 387;
concludes agreement with Zapolya, 390;
issues ordinance for maintenance of Catholic faith, 399;
another, 400;
his desire for union of the two churches, 408
Ferrara, Hercules, duke of, his marriage at Fontainebleau, i. 418
Ferrara, Renée, duchess, of [Renée of France]
Ferrara, University of, declares for divorce of Henry VIII., iv. 41;
knowledge of evangelical doctrines at, 427, 489;
influence of Calvin at, v. 422 sqq.;
the Inquisition, 444
Feyt, Florentius, Jesuit, sent to Sweden, vii. 333
Fief, Peter du, conducts persecution at Louvain, vii. 554;
remonstrance of the townsmen, 556, 569
Finlason, James, one of the Perth Protestants, condemned by Cardinal Beatoun, vi. 180, 181;
hung, 181
Fisher, John, bishop of Rochester, iv. 4, 5;
defends the church, 16;
summoned before the king, 17;
his subterfuge, 18;
rumor of attempt to poison him, 68, 141;
supports Maid of Kent, v. 10, 12;
attainted, sentenced to death, 16, 17;
refuses to take the oath of supremacy, 46;
attainted, 46;
steadfast, 46;
visited by Cromwell, 64;
made cardinal, 64;
his last moments, 66;
death, 67;
characterised, 74;
effect of his death at Rome, 76
Fitzherbert, Anthony, commissioner for suppression of lesser monasteries, v. 100
Fitzwilliam, Sir William, lord-admiral, iv. 5
Fitzwilliam, Lord, Governor of the Tower, delivers Fryth to messengers of the primate, iv. 153
Flaminio, Marco Antonio, poet, iv. 427;
birth and early life of, 477, 478;
character, 478;
at Naples with Valdez, 479 sqq.;
at Rome, with Pole and Caraffa, 481
Florence, iv. 432
Folengo, Giovanni Battista, account of, iv. 482, 483
Fontainebleau, rejoicings at, i. 418 sqq.;
interrupted, 422
Forest, Father, defends Catherine of Aragon, iv. 103
Forman, Andrew, competitor for see of St. Andrews, vi. 10;
seizes the castle and monastery, 10
Forrest, Henry, Benedictine, imprisoned by Beatoun, vi. 92;
degraded, 93;
burnt, 93
Forrest, Thomas, Augustine, reads the writings of St. Augustine, vi. 103;
priest of Dollar, 103;
denounced, 104;
his interview with the bishop of Dunkeld, 104;
arrested, 116;
examined before the cardinal, 116;
burnt, 118
Fouquet, [Trois-Moutiers, prior of]
Fox, Edward, high almoner, deputed with Gardiner to obtain opinion of Cambridge University on the king’s divorce, iv. 29;
with Longland, that of Oxford, 33;
summoned to Windsor, 35;
ambassador to Germany, v. 109;
concludes alliance with the princes, 110;
sent to conduct discussion with Protestants at Wittenberg, 116;
has audience of Elector of Saxony, 117;
his speech at Convocation, 188
France, struggles in, i. 5;
royalty in, 285;
springs of reformation, 316;
state of, 322 sqq.;
after battle of Pavia, 323;
dismemberment of, proposed by Charles V., 325;
persecution of Lutherans in, 332;
proclamation against the Bible in French, Luther’s works and doubt, 342;
who will be the reformer of? 369, 378;
councils against heresy, 417, 418;
hopes of reformers, ii. 132;
progress of reform, 183 sqq.;
flight of evangelicals from, 212;
proposal for union with German Protestants, 214;
rival plans of reform, 256;
spirit of liberty in, 286;
evangelization of, begun by Calvin, iii. 55, 58;
progress of the Gospel, 60, 66;
‘year of the placards,’ 92 sqq.;
importance of, iv. 361;
invasion of, by Henry VIII., viii. 267
Francis I., of France, i. 79, 234, 266, 285;
captured at Pavia, 324;
suppliant to Charles V., 325;
at Madrid, 326;
illness, 328;
recovery, 329;
patron of letters, 336;
orders persecution to be stayed, 336;
his abdication, 336;
his contradictory oaths, 337;
treaty with Charles V., 337;
inconsistency, 338;
stops proceedings against Berquin, 344;
returns to France, 352;
refuses permission for Count of Hohenlohe to go into France, 353, 354;
liberates Lutheran prisoners, 358, 359;
consents to marriage of Henry d’Albret and Margaret, 378;
his promises to them, 379;
treaty with Charles V., 379;
his attitude towards the Reformation, 402;
arrests Beda, 405;
exasperation against the Sorbonne, 406;
hesitation between Rome and the Reformation, 410, 411;
deaf to appeal of Duprat, 415, 416;
deaf to the priests, 417;
goes to Paris, 422;
investigates case of mutilation of image of the Virgin, 424;
sanctions persecution, 426;
consents to inquiry against Berquin, 432
—, warned by Erasmus, ii. 32;
signs treaty of Cambray, 61;
his children restored, 62, 63, 65;
his marriage and coronation of his queen, Eleanor, 65 sqq.;
the Protestants accused to him, 70;
receives envoy and letter from German Protestant princes, 71;
proposes a council, 72;
hears Lécoq preach, 75;
has secret interview with him, 75;
veers towards reform, 94;
sends Du Bellay to Germany, 95;
and to England, 102;
alliance with Henry VIII., 103;
meets him, complains of the pope, 104;
treaty with Henry, 105;
sends embassy to the pope, 105;
threatens separation from the papacy, 106;
alarm in Europe, 106;
confines heads of both parties in their own houses, 124;
warned by Henry of Navarre and Du Bellay, 126;
receives deputation from Sorbonne, 126;
insults the deputies, 127;
banishes Beda, 130;
sends ambassadors to conference of Bologna, 142, 146;
aims at alliance with Henry VIII. and the pope, 148;
consequences of his scheme, 148;
sends special ambassador to Bologna, 148;
proposes marriage of Henry duke of Orleans with Catherine de’ Medici, 149;
claims an Italian state, 149;
hesitation, 154;
sends the pope full powers for the contract, 155;
his policy, 157;
proposes a lay council, 157;
a meeting with Clement arranged, 163;
silences Montmorency accusing Margaret, 177;
orders inquiry on the decision of the Sorbonne, 180;
meets Clement VII. at Marseilles, 192;
his demands, 194;
at marriage of his son with Catherine de’ Medici, 195;
orders persecution of heretics, 197;
intrigues with Protestants, 197;
holds a council at Avignon, 214;
his policy in Germany, 216;
goes to Bar-le-Duc, 221;
invites Philip of Hesse to a conference, 224;
discusses affairs of Germany, 224;
desires to see Melanchthon, 225;
concludes treaty with Philip, 226;
returns to Paris, 232;
refuses to burn Roussel and others, 232;
imprisons Beda, 233;
vacillation, 234;
sets free the preachers, 234;
quotes Scripture, 247;
co-operates with Bucer and Du Bellay, 247;
gives audience to waywode of Wallachia, 248;
receives news of Philip’s victory, 254;
sends Chelius to Germany, 260;
receives memoirs of German doctors, 264;
holds conferences in the Louvre, 265;
approves Melanchthon’s views, 282;
sends envoy to Germany and confesses his mistakes, 283;
orders French version of reformers’ opinions, 284;
his tactics, 285;
difference between him and Henry VIII., 295;
leans towards the Reformation, 296;
supports demands of Savoy against Geneva, 390
—, steps towards reformation, iii. 67;
a ‘placard’ on his door, 106;
his exasperation, 107;
orders search for evangelicals, 107;
returns to Paris, 113;
harsh towards Margaret, 115;
recalls her to Paris, 116;
interview with her preachers, 117;
pardons them, 125;
orders procession of relics, 127;
his penitence, 130;
his speech, 133;
present at torture and death of martyrs, 137, 138, 139;
orders extirpation of Lutherans, 140;
abolishes printing, 140;
his motives, 144;
writes to German princes, 148;
illusions about him, 167;
Calvin’s letter to, 182
—, inclines towards Rome, iv. 127, 165, 167;
meeting with Clement VII., 167;
conference with English envoys, 167;
conversation with the pope, 172;
their accord, 174;
attempts mediation between England and the pope, 177;
at Pavia, 321;
appeal of Bernese to, in behalf of Maisonneuve and Janin, 322;
liberates them, 328;
his letter to the syndics of Geneva, 330, 348, 349;
writes to German princes, 351, 354;
inclines to reform, 357;
invites Melanchthon to France, 358;
his letter to Melanchthon, 363;
his sincerity questionable, 364;
publishes amnesty, 368;
instructs Cardinal du Bellay, 368;
proposes a conference between Catholics and reformers, 369;
gives up the scheme, 371;
his political designs, 393;
proposes to write to Elector of Saxony, 394;
his views of reformation set forth by Du Bellay at Smalcalde, 399 sqq.;
plays two parts, 405;
his anger at Carnesecchi, 475
—, proposes interview with Henry VIII., v. 21;
sends embassy to him, 58, 75;
accepts alliance of Charles V., 114;
proposes crusade against Henry, 114;
prepares for war with the emperor, 116;
secretly aids Geneva, 360, 365;
resolves to invade Savoy and the Milanese, 377
—, refuses to deliver up Cardinal Pole to Henry VIII., viii. 150;
expels Pole from France, 159;
opposes marriage of Henry VIII. with duchess of Milan, 174;
proposes marriage of Henry of Orleans with princess Mary of England, 176;
authorizes printing and importation of Bibles by Grafton, 176;
rejoices at Cromwell’s fall, 211;
and at persecution of Protestants in London, 240;
pretexts of Henry VIII. for war with, 267;
concludes peace with Charles V., 268
Francis, bishop of Geneva, i. 21, 26, 33
Franciscans, at Geneva, i. 44;
compared with Dominicans, iv. 245
Frangipani, Francisco, vii. 369, 383
Frankfort, Protestant deputies at, ii. 97;
assembly of Protestant Princes at, v. 118;
Conference of theologians at, vi. 473 sqq.;
beginning of reformation at, viii. 317
Frederick, duke of Holstein, forms alliance with Lübeck against Christian II., vii. 136;
his character, 141;
a canon of Cologne, resigns the canonry, 141;
accepts crown of Denmark, 142;
promises not to tolerate Lutherans, 142;
resolves to maintain impartiality, 143;
his edict of toleration, 145;
his son Christian in Germany, 147, 148;
enters Copenhagen, 149;
professes Lutheranism, 149;
his coronation, 154;
liberates Tausen, 155;
convokes diet at Odensee, 162;
his speech, 162, 163;
by his ordinance establishes freedom of conscience, 164;
assembles a conference of the bishops and the Lutherans, 171;
prohibits preaching of the Lutherans, withdraws the prohibition, 173;
his impartiality, 181, 183;
allies himself with German princes, 184;
assembles army and fleet, 186;
imprisons Christian II., 190;
his death, 193;
his character and his family, 194
Frederick the Wise, i. 406;
his reply to the king of Hungary, vii. 349
Fregoso, archbishop of Salerno, made cardinal, iv. 487
Friburg, citizenship of, granted to Genevese patriots, i. 37;
envoys of, at Geneva, protect Berthelier, 84;
another deputation to Geneva, 87;
indignation at refusal of safe-conduct for Berthelier, 87;
Genevese embassy to, demands alliance, 140, 141;
offer of alliance accepted by Geneva, 148, 149;
the duke of Savoy tries to break the alliance, 152;
disturbances, 152;
Fabri sent to Geneva, 154;
the alliance confirmed, 156;
the canons of Geneva declare against it, 159;
deputation sent to Geneva, 169;
alliance renounced by Mamelukes, 179;
sends army to Geneva, 179;
message to the duke, 180;
protects and receives fugitive patriots of Geneva, 275;
promises help, 280;
embassy to Geneva, 281;
arrival of wives and children of exiles, 283;
alliance with Berne and Geneva, 303;
departure of Genevese exiles, 304, 305, 307, 310, 313, 314; ii. 391, 392, 400, 404, 415, 418, 419, 423, 431, 441;
asks help of Geneva, 442;
outrages of Friburgers at Geneva, 444;
demands renunciation of alliance, 449;
alliance maintained, 450;
complains of Lutheran proceedings, 466;
joint-suzerain of Orbe, iii. 205;
deputation from Orbe to, 212;
orders liberation of priests, 231;
with Berne publishes first act of religious liberty in Switzerland, 244;
sends embassy with threats to Geneva, 354;
mediation of Friburg merchants between Catholics and Lutherans, 393;
urges bishop of Geneva to return, 423;
demands satisfaction for Wernli’s death, 428;
deputies of, attend the bishop on his return, 432;
rumors of intervention at Geneva, 447;
the deputies demand justice for Wernli’s death, 447;
support episcopal citation, 451, 453; iv. 231;
renounces alliance with Geneva, 258
Friesland, religious condition of, vii. 457;
a battle-field of religious parties, 457;
Countess Anna, 461, 463;
John of Falkenberg, 464;
Countess Anna’s reply to Alasco, 467;
suppression of Romanism, 467;
disorders, 473
Frobenius, iv. 407
Froment, Christian Anthony, iii. 298;
urged by Farel to go to Geneva, 298, 299, 312, 313;
goes to Geneva, 314;
coldly received, 314;
departs but returns, 315;
advertises his school, 316;
his proceedings, 316;
success, 317;
alarm, 319, 320;
conversion of Claudine Levet, 323;
disputation with Pellier, 331;
ends with a riot, 333;
advised not to preach, 335;
preaches at the Molard, 338;
forbidden by syndics, continues, 341;
interrupted by armed priests, rescued by Bernard, 347;
attempted concealment, 347;
employed as a servant, 348, 350;
attacked and rescued, 351;
goes to Yvonand, 352;
results of his labors at Geneva, 352;
returns to Geneva, iv. 195;
attempts to arrest him, 198;
refutes Furbity, 204;
assailed in the church, rescued by Maisonneuve, 204 sqq.;
leaves Geneva, 206;
returns, 215;
at the tournament, 217;
at first evangelical Pentecost, 282, 330;
attempt to poison him by Antonia Vax, v. 246;
at the disputation, v. 268
‘Frondeur,’ an unhappy, ii. 88;
at Strasburg, 88;
returns to France, 89;
received by Calvin, 89
Fryth, John, sought for by Henry VIII., iv. 59;
married, 59;
account of him, 139;
his true Catholicism, 140;
assists Tyndale, 140;
returns from the Low Countries, 140;
his reply to More and others on purgatory, 141;
in the stocks at Reading, 141;
liberated, goes to London, 142;
his doctrine of the Lord’s Supper written down, 143;
a copy treacherously taken to the Chancellor, 143;
leaves London, 143;
Tyndale’s letter to, 144;
hunted by More, 144;
arrested, 145;
reads More’s reply to him, 146;
writes the Bulwark, 147;
other labors in prison, 147;
some liberty allowed him, 148;
visits Petit, 149;
the bishops bent on his death, 150;
ordered for trial, 151;
his judges, 151;
taken by Cranmer’s messengers to Lambeth, 154;
will not step backwards, 154, 155;
the scheme for his escape, 156;
refuses to escape, 158;
his trial at Croydon, 159;
his view of the sacrament, 159;
again sent to the Tower, 160;
his cause transferred to bishop of London, 160;
sentenced to death, 161;
in Newgate, 161;
burnt at Smithfield, 162;
influence of his writings, 162; v. 34
Funeral Procession of the Papacy, at Geneva, ii. 347
Furbity Guy, Dominican, sent to Geneva, iv. 200;
preaches in the Cathedral, 201;
challenges Lutherans, 203;
answered by Froment, 204;
tumult in the church, 204 sqq.;
eulogizes St. Thomas of Canterbury, 207;
watched by city guards, 212;
prevented from leaving Geneva, 213;
appears before the council, will not speak, 217, 218;
his trial demanded by Bernese, 219;
colloquy with Diesbach, 220;
disputation with Farel, 222 sqq.;
visits Pennet in prison, 240;
summoned before the council, 243;
his apologies in the Cathedral, 244;
violently assailed and again imprisoned, 245;
his release requested by Francis I., 330;
liberated, 330;
declines to take part in disputation, v. 266, 267;
liberated, 407, 408
Gabriel Dune, Gardiner’s agent against Tyndale, v. 35 sqq.
Gaillard, Castle of, Duke Charles III. at, i. 169
Galle, Peter, champion of the papacy against Olaf Petersen, vii. 274;
discussion with Olaf at Westeraas, 290
Gallican Liberties, ii. 245, 246, 286
Gambara, nuncio, ii. 144
Gardiner, Stephen, deputed to obtain opinion of Cambridge university on the king’s divorce, iv. 29, 31, 32;
made bishop of Winchester, 72;
his interviews with Fryth in the Tower, 146;
one of Fryth’s examiners, 151;
envoy to Marseilles, 167;
jealousy of Bonner, 168;
resolves on death of Tyndale, v. 35;
his agents, Philips, and Gabriel, 35, 41;
opposes translation of the Bible, 55;
opposes visitation by Cranmer, 57;
opposes alliance with German Protestants, 110;
his reply to Pole, 177;
his policy, his embassy to France, viii. 158;
complains to Granvella of calumnies about himself, 158;
his entry into London, 158;
urges the king to persecution of heretics, 160;
his secret conferences with other bishops, 161;
instigates prosecution of Lambert, 166;
at his trial, 170, 187;
preaches at Paul’s Cross instead of Barnes, 202;
brings subject of the king’s divorce before Convocation, 231;
reads the judgment, 232;
introduces Catherine Howard to the king, 234;
sent with Norfolk to examine the queen on charges made against her, 250;
his argument for keeping Latin words in English Bible, 256;
takes part in plot against Cranmer, 263;
persecutes evangelicals of Oxford, 264 sqq.;
examines Anne Askew, 278;
gets royal proclamation issued against New Testament and many religious books, 279, 286, 287;
instigates Henry against the queen, 288;
intrigues against her, 289;
with Wriothesley, draws up indictment against her, 290;
in disgrace, appeals to the king, 293;
excluded from number of the king’s executors and from the council of regency, 298
Garret, evangelical preacher, viii. 202;
preaches at Paul’s Cross, 202;
reprimanded by the king, 204;
committed to the Tower, 204;
burnt at Smithfield, 226-228
Gaudet, Pierre, iv. 284;
settles at Geneva, v. 237;
sets off for Gex, 238;
seized and taken to Peney, 239;
tortured, 240;
his death, 241
Gaudri, Bishop of Laon, slain, ii. 450
Gazzini, Pietro, Bishop of Aosta, ii. 367;
commissioned to seek help of the pope for Duke of Savoy, 393;
his opposition to the Lutherans, v. 449, 450
Geelen, Jan van, ‘Spiritual,’ excites revolt in Holland, attempts surprise of Amsterdam, viii. 348;
fate of his followers, 349
Geneva, centre of Reformation, i. 1;
characteristics of the movement, 2;
importance of political element, 3;
great things to be studied in small at, 7;
Roman, German, Christian influences combined, 8;
Burgundian conquests, 9;
the gospel first brought to, 10;
its first bishop, 10;
early history and liberties, 11;
Charlemagne at, 11;
the Counts of, 12;
their castles and mode of life, 12;
growth of power of the bishops, 13;
the first prince-bishop, 13;
coveted by House of Savoy, 14;
seizure of the castle by Peter of Savoy, 16;
placed under his guardianship, 16;
attempt of Amadeus V., 17;
the vidamy, 18;
rectors of the city elected, 19;
attempt of Amadeus VIII., 21;
visit of Pope Martin V., 19;
the fair transferred to Lyons, 26;
surrounded by states of Savoy, 27;
renovation preparing, 28;
excitement at, about death of bishop Charles de Seyssel, 29, 30;
entry of the Bastard of Savoy, 38;
settlement of Savoyards in, 41;
given to Savoy by Leo X., 50;
excitement and opposition, 50;
consent of cardinals refused, the bull recalled, 52;
corruption fostered by Philibert the Fair, 58;
assembly of patriots, 69;
terror caused by torture and death of Pécolat, 83;
peril, 86;
Swiss alliance sought, 87;
excommunication riot, 105;
plot of the duke, the bishop, and the count, 111;
agitation caused by deaths of Blanchet and Navis, 124 sqq.;
meeting of the council, 127;
embassy to Duke of Savoy, 128;
critical position of the Republic, 129;
another embassy to the duke and the bishop, 132;
consultation of patriots, 134;
rejection of sealed letter from the bishop, 138;
the Great Council, 138;
conflict of ecclesiastical and secular society in, 139;
fruitless debate on Swiss alliance, 141;
excitement, 142;
reception of ducal embassy, 146;
Swiss alliance carried, 148;
election of Huguenot syndics, 149;
Mameluke organization, 150;
the canons in danger, 159;
surrounded by ducal army, 162;
insolent ducal embassy, 163;
ordered by Swiss Diet to receive the duke, 164;
summoned by Charles III., 165;
reply of the Syndics, 165, 166;
preparations for war, 166;
a truce, 170;
attack of the duke frustrated, 171;
entered by the duke, 174;
distribution of his army, 174;
conquered, 176;
pillaged, 177;
Friburg army at, 180;
the plague, 183;
entered by the bishop, 187;
Mameluke reaction at, 200;
restriction of liberties, 203;
the decrees revoked, 206;
Huguenots recover their liberties, 207;
papal citation, 208;
procession organized by priests, 210;
Pierre de la Baume, prince-bishop, 215;
time of depression, 217;
vanity of the Genevese, 219;
entry of the duke and duchess, 220;
‘mystery’ performed, 222;
seeming success of Savoyard seductions, 224;
New Testament introduced, 225;
quarrels with Savoyards, 232;
corruption and disorders, 235, 236;
agitation caused by seizure of Levrier, 248;
indignation at his execution, 255;
departure of the duke, 256;
vengeance of Savoyard council for assault on Boulet, 261;
election of Huguenot syndics, 263;
appeal of Council to the pope against Savoy, 264;
the delegates stopped by the duke, 266;
appeal withdrawn, 268;
the ducal army near, 269;
enters, 270;
exodus of patriots, 270;
entered by Charles, 279;
about to surrender independence, 280;
Swiss embassy to, 280;
departure of wives and children of exiles, 282;
‘council of halberds,’ 287;
departure of the duke, 289;
mission of Lullin, 290;
justification of the fugitives, 290 sqq.;
return of the bishop, 297;
election of Huguenot syndics, 301 sqq.;
old constitution restored, 302;
Swiss alliance concluded, 304;
return of exiles, 304;
Council, 305;
General Council, 307 sqq.;
gleams of reformation, 310;
conspiracy of canons, 311;
flight of Mamelukes, 312;
Swiss embassy, 313;
alliance sworn, 313;
rejoicings, 314
—, the new situation, ii. 302;
the castles, 303;
traders, 303;
measures of defence, 306;
deputation to Berne, 307;
immoralities, 318;
project of the duke against, 322;
warnings, 323;
delivered from the canons, 325, 326;
the bishop made a citizen, 328;
civil jurisdiction conceded, 328;
new party forms, 333;
immorality attacked, 334;
claim and threats of the duke, 338;
flight of the bishop, 340;
constitution formed, 344;
fall of the ducal arms, 344;
excommunication and interdict pronounced against, 345;
papal letters prohibited, 346;
funeral procession of the papacy, 347;
bids the duke mind his own business, 350;
assailed by ‘gentlemen of the Spoon,’ 357;
civil jurisdiction revoked, 363;
menaced by the bishop, 363;
reply to his envoys, 364;
the messenger of the council insulted, 366;
intrigues in the convents, 370;
arrival and departure of auxiliary troops, 372;
insolence and death of Pontverre, 376 sqq.;
a Genevan crucified, 383;
‘Day of the Ladders,’ 383, 384;
embassies from the Swiss and from Savoy, 390;
will not give up Swiss alliance, 391;
defies the emperor, 395;
emperor and pope unite against, 396;
war begun by duke and bishop, 416;
march of allies on, 417 sqq.;
still a Catholic city, 417;
blockaded, 418;
skirmishes, 419;
night attack, 420;
retreat of Savoyards, 422;
arrival of Swiss troops, 424 sqq.;
preachings in the cathedral, 426 sqq.;
truce of St. Julien, 428;
declines intervention of the emperor, 431;
another attack threatened and frustrated, 431, 432;
Diet of Payerne, 432;
a pilgrimage to St. Claire resisted, 433;
another allowed, 434;
‘de Christo meditare,’ 437;
agrees to help Berne and Friburg, 442;
again threatened by the duke, 442;
election of Catholics, struggles, 444;
threatened by the duke, 445;
Swiss alliance adhered to, 446;
withdrawal of ducal army, 447;
preparation by sufferings and dangers, 447 sqq.;
Swiss alliance cancelled by patricians, 449;
but maintained by citizens of Berne, 450;
cession of, to son of the duke proposed, 452;
agitation about the General Pardon posted up by Lutherans, 463 sqq.;
Friburg embassy and threats, 466;
placards and preaching prohibited, 466;
first official act in favor of reformation, 467;
letter from archbishop to the syndics, 468;
standard of the Gospel raised, 472;
conflict of two parties, 472 sqq.
—, saves Europe, iii. 199;
Farel’s arrival at, 275;
progress of reformation, 325, 328;
tumult, 333, 334;
Froment’s sermon at the Molard, priests in arms, 338, 339;
balance of parties, 350;
agitation against Lutherans, 366;
conspiracy, 367;
both parties armed, 371;
disturbance in the cathedral, 372;
Catholic preparations to fight, 375;
the corps formed, 376;
mustering of the corps, 377;
distresses in the homes, 381, 382;
the Huguenots on the defensive, 390;
bloodshed prevented, 392;
mediation of Friburgers, 393;
peace proclaimed, 395;
articles of peace, 397;
disquietude, 401;
holiday evening and a brawl, 411;
the tocsin, 413;
fight in the Molard, 415 sqq.;
the bishop invited to return, 425;
his entrance, 433;
a general council, 434;
the Charters consulted, 436;
episcopal proscriptions, 439;
deputation of elders to the bishop, 451;
resolution of the Sixty, 453;
of the Two Hundred, 455;
gathering perils, 460
—, the part of Geneva in the Reformation, iv. 184;
agitation about Lutheran prisoners, 186;
the bishop’s final departure, 192;
evangelical preaching authorized by the Council, 196;
plot of the Catholics, 211;
both parties in arms, 211;
Bernese embassy to, 215;
the tournament, 217 sqq.;
the bishop’s coup d’état, 231;
assassinations and tumult, 232, 233 sqq.;
the bishop’s palace searched, 236;
the cathedral searched, 237;
four Huguenot syndics, 242;
Savoyard procession forbidden to enter, 279;
another enters and is driven out, 280 sqq.;
image-breaking, 281;
Whitsuntide procession, 284;
embassy from France, 292;
Feast of Corpus Christi, 304;
rumors of attack by bishop and duke, 308 sqq.;
preparations, 309;
plans of the invaders, 310;
advance on the city, 311;
treachery within, 311;
a warning, 312;
called to arms, 312;
retreat of the Savoyards, 315;
vigilance, 317;
city and suburbs described, 323;
destruction of suburbs ordered, 324, 326;
opposition of Catholics, 327;
the houses razed, lamentations, 333, 334;
ramparts built, 335;
the see removed to Gex, 338;
excommunications by the bishop, 339;
appeal to the pope, 340;
prepares for defence, 342
—, three parties to uphold the Reformation, v. 232;
Huguenot magistrates elected, 232;
a monk allowed to preach the Gospel, 234;
riot of women in the church, 236;
plots of Roman Catholics, 243;
a disputation announced, 256;
refusal of the papists, 257;
the debate, 264 sqq.;
its effect, 274;
trade or intercourse with Geneva forbidden by the bishop, 270;
misery in the city, 276;
Farel at the Cathedral, 280 sqq.;
forbidden to preach there, 283;
images broken, 285;
campaign against idols, 288 sqq.;
mass suppressed, church property confiscated, 295;
the monks dumb before the Council, 299;
flight of papists, 299;
hospital and school founded, 309;
mendicity abolished, 310;
end of Romanism, 311;
proclaimed as infected by duke of Savoy, 314;
skirmishes and alarms, 314;
refuses to expel heresy and restore the bishop, 317;
news of battle of Gingins, 346;
storming of convent of St. Jean, 357;
blockaded, 358;
assault repulsed, 358;
coins money, 360;
refuses a truce, 362;
the troops partly withdrawn, 363;
rejects offer of French protectorate, 365;
attack on the church of our Lady of Grace repulsed by Jessé, 366, 367;
night attacks by Savoyards, 368;
the war of Cologny, 369;
famine, 375;
Bernese help promised, 376;
entrance of Nagueli, and the Bernese army, 387;
the castles burnt, 392, 393;
rejects sovereignty of Berne, 397;
attack on Chillon, 399 sqq.;
evangelization of the town and the country, 404, 405;
difficulties with the priests, 406;
morals in the city, 408;
the General Confession (21st May), 412 sqq.;
return of refugees, 415;
toleration, 416, 417;
action of the Government in religious affairs, 465
—, importance of the services of Geneva to freedom and religion, vi. 219, 220, 221;
arrival of Calvin, 221;
church discipline before his time, 224;
long preparation of the Genevese for triumph of the Reformation, 226, 227;
conference of pastors at, 273, 274;
Calvin’s Confession of faith adopted, 284;
his articles on order and discipline allowed, 289;
measures of the council, 290, 291;
Convocation of the people, the Confession adopted, 294;
but refused by many, 294;
discipline by the state, 297;
description of the city, 298;
parties at, 335;
the Confession sworn to, 337 sqq.;
resistance of the Huguenots, 338 sqq.;
a general Council, 341;
the remonstrance, 342, 343;
confusion, 344;
deputation to Berne, 348;
refusal of the council to exclude any from the Supper, 354;
disorders, 355, 356;
two parties in the republic, 358;
election of syndics, 360;
victory of the opposition, 361;
proclamation against disorders, 362;
refuses to entertain project of submission to France, 363;
confusion of church and state at, 365;
Bernese usages adopted, 379;
disturbances, 380;
confusion, 386 sqq.;
Easter Sunday 1538, 395;
banishment of the reformers decreed, 403, 407;
dismay at their departure, 412;
licentiousness of the vulgar, 413;
the new pastors, 414;
reply to Bernese letter, 419;
resistance to return of Farel and Calvin, 431;
Bernese delegates received, 433;
vote of banishment of the reformers by general council, 439;
the ceremonies established, 449;
new pastors, 449, 450;
party strife, 450;
disorders, 451;
despotism, 465, 466;
the rector and regents of the College banished, 467;
election of new syndics, 471;
suppression of disorders, 471;
letter from Sadoleto received by the Council, 480;
effect of Calvin’s reply to it, 496, 497;
Catholic priests before the Council, 500, 501;
dispute about treaty with Berne, 512;
a new treaty signed, 513;
quarrel about it, 514, 515;
summoned by Berne to a trial at Lausanne, the treaty rejected by general Council, 515;
judgment against Genevese delivered at Lausanne, 516;
a general reconciliation, 516;
agitation about the quarrel with Berne, 517;
flight of the Articulants, 518;
a riot, 521;
fate of the Articulants, 524
—, proceedings for recall of Calvin, vii. 5;
letter of the Council, 8;
edict of expulsion of the reformers revoked, 43;
letters of the Syndics to Zurich, Basel and Strasburg, 43 sqq.;
value of these documents, 45;
preparation for reception of Calvin, 50;
a day of humiliation, 59;
the ‘Ordinances’ considered by the Council, 61, 62;
adopted, 63;
Geneva to be made an ecclesiastical fortress, 65;
the name of Jesus engraved on the gates, 77;
relation of church and state at, 77 sqq.;
state of men’s minds at, 96;
new pastors, 106;
moral change, 111
George, Duke of Anhalt, his birth and early life, viii. 322;
his adherence to Rome, 323;
searches the Scriptures, 323;
inquiry and perplexity, 324;
reads Luther, 325;
gains over his brothers to his views, 325;
exercises episcopal authority, 325
Gérac, castle of, iii. 15 sqq.
German Envoys in England, viii. 153 sqq.;
their long stay, fruitless discussions, 155;
their view, 155;
leave England, 157
German Protestant Princes send envoy to Francis I., ii. 71;
envoy sent to, 72;
proposal for union of France with, 214;
English embassy to, v. 109;
attempt at alliance renewed, 117, 118;
assembly at Frankfort, 118;
embassy to Henry VIII., 118;
renounce his alliance, 170;
send envoys to Henry VIII., viii. 153;
discussion at Lambeth, 154
Germans, The, papal treatment of, i. 120
Germany, affairs in, ii. 95 sqq.;
peasant revolt in, compared with Pilgrimage of Grace, v. 207
Gex, meeting of duke of Savoy and bishop of Geneva at, ii. 415, 424
Ghent, the Reformation at, vii. 546 sqq.
Ghinucci, deprived of see of Worcester, iv. 180
‘Ghost of Lyons’, i. 408
Giberto, Giovanni Matteo, bishop of Verona, iv. 478, 482
Gingins, Aimé de, abbot of Bonmont, i. 31;
elected bishop of Geneva, 32;
set aside by the Pope, 35;
pensioned by the Bastard, 40, 157, 159, 160, 169; ii. 410, 467;
episcopal council at his house, iii. 284;
presides at examination of Farel, 288, 292, 397;
armed gathering at his house 412; v. 257;
flies from Geneva, 308;
discovered by the Bernese at Divonne, ransoms himself, 386
Gingins, Francis de, lord of Divonne, account of, v. 385, 386;
a ransom exacted from him by the Bernese, 386
Gingins, battle of, v. 332 sqq.;