scourged to death; or that, if he was, Bonner ever so much as saw him.

But as I do not expect the reader either to take my word for this, or to study the history in Fox, and as it is highly illustrative of several of the points touched upon in this volume, I will give what I believe to be a true, though a brief, summary of the story.

John Fetty, the father of the child in question, was a simple and godly poor man, "dwelling in the parish of Clerkenwell, and was by vocation a taylor, of the age of twenty-four years or thereabout." He seems to have

married at an age when he could not be expected to show much discretion in choosing a partner; for this (not his only, and perhaps not his eldest) child was "of the age of eight or nine years." He suffered for his youthful indiscretion; for his wife, disapproving his resolution "not to come into the church, and be partaker of their idolatry and superstition," was so cruel, or so zealous, as to denounce him to 66 one Brokenbury, a priest and parson of the same parish." Accordingly "through the said priest's procurement, he was apprehended by Richard Tanner, and his fellow constables there, and one Martin the headborough." Immediately after doing this the poor woman was seized with such remorse that she became "distract of her wits." Even the pitiless papists were moved; the Baalamite priest and the constables, and headborough, all agreed for the sake of her, and her two children, that they would "for that present 'let her husband alone, and would not carry him to prison, 'but yet suffered him to remain quietly in his own house; 'during which time, he, as it were forgetting the wicked ' and unkind fact of his wife, did yet so cherish and provide 'for her, that within the space of three weeks (through 'God's merciful providence) she was well amended, and had ' recovered again some stay of her wits and senses." 5

But strange to say, so soon as she had recovered some health," her cruelty or zeal revived, and she "did again accuse her husband." The steps are not stated; but we may reasonably suppose them to have been the same as before. Now, however, as there was nothing to interrupt the common course of things, John Fetty was "carried unto

5 Fox, viii. 511.

'Sir John Mordant, Knight, one of the Queen's Commis'sioners, and he upon examination sent him by Cluny the 'bishop's sumner, unto the Lollards' Tower." On what charge (except so far as may be gathered from what has been already stated) Sir John sent him to prison we are not told; but there he lay for fifteen days, and probably Bonner knew no more of his being there, than he knew of Thomas Green's being twice as long in his own coalhouse".

Perhaps while her husband lay in prison, the poor woman, who may so peculiarly be termed the wife of his youth, relented, and thought herself happy that, owing to their early marriage, they had already a child of an age to traverse the streets of London, of "a bold and quick spirit," who would make his way in search of his father; and at the same time, "godly brought up," and knowing how to behave himself before his elders and betters at the bishop's palace. I own, however, that this is mere supposition, and that I find no particular ground for supposing that his mother knew that he was gone out upon what may have been only a spontaneous pilgrimage of filial piety; but, to come to facts, it is clearly stated that he "came unto the bishop's 'house to see if he could get leave to speak with his father. 'At his coming thither one of the bishop's chaplains met 'with him, and asked him what he lacked, and what he 'would have. The child answered, that he came to see his 'father. The chaplain asked again who was his father. The boy then told him, and pointing towards Lollards' "Tower, showed him that his father was there in prison. "Why,' quoth the priest, 'thy father is a heretic. The 'child being of a bold quick spirit, and also godly brought 'up, and instructed by his father in the knowledge of God, 'answered and said, 'My father is no heretic; for you have 'BALAAM'S MARK.'

By this notable speech the unhappy child has gained a place in the holy army of martyrs. At least (so far as Fox tells us) he said and did nothing else; though perhaps we may take it for granted that the precocious little polemic showed his "bold and quick spirit," and his godly bringing up, in some other smart sayings, and gave some other

6 See before, p. 19.

"privy nips" to the Balaamite priest, such as Bishop Christopherson and Miles Hoggard would not have approved', before he got the whipping, which he is said to have received ere he reached his father in the Lollards' Tower. For " the priest took the child by the hand, and led him into the bishop's house," says Fox; and he adds, with the absurdity which so often, and so happily neutralizes his malice," whether to the bishop or not I know not, but like enough he did." "Like enough"-is that all? and is there the least likelihood of such a thing? especially when Fox proceeds to state that the child as soon as he had been whipped was taken to his father in the tower, and fell on his knees and told him his pitiful story, how " a priest with Balaam's mark took him into the bishop's house, and there was he so handled;" but not a word did the child say of ever seeing the bishop. Fox himself dared not put more in his marginal note than "The miserable tyranny of the papists in scourging a child."

The historian, however, tells us that they detained the boy (whom they probably considered as a go-between) for three days; and at the end of that time Bonner makes his first appearance in the story. And then we are introduced to him, not burning heretics, but "basting of himself against a great fire" in his bed-room. There is nothing to show that he had ever before heard of either John Fetty or his child; but on that occasion the father (and as far as appears the father only) was brought before him. He quickly showed by his conduct and discourse that he was either a sort of half-witted person, or else that finding himself in awkward circumstances he wished to pass for one. In that character, whether natural or artificial, he talked some sad nonsense and impertinence to the Bishop, who having, of course, gone through the necessary preliminaries of being in a "marvellous rage" and a "great fury," and then again being in "fear of the law for murdering a child,"

7 See before, pp. 232, 234. The story of this poor little fellow, a martyr (if at all) to the cant language of the ribaldry in which he had been reared, forms an instructive commentary on the statements of these writers respecting what Fox describes as "being godly brought up." Perhaps it is due to his mother to believe that his father, under whose instruction he had so profited, had it in his power to be very provoking.

(for all at once it has come to be quite certain that the child was killed, and by Bonner too, and therefore he)" discharged him." It is remarkable that on one point, Fox says absolutely nothing,-there is not a word of the prisoner's being asked to abjure, or recant, or submit, or amend his evil ways-no hint of his being offered, or signing, any bill (as Fox calls it), or of anything of the kind, so common on such occasions." I think, however, that every well-informed reader will suspect that so far as prudential reasons and "fear of the law" might weigh with a bloody wolf," Bonner must have known that it would have been safer for him to whip two taylor prentices to death, and hide them in his coal-house, than to discharge one prisoner committed under the warrant of Sir John Mordant without a recanta

8 As it seems difficult to imagine that Fox could have received his account of this interview on any authority but that of John Fetty himself, it is worth while to subjoin the particulars, especially as it seems probable that there was no other authority (Fox certainly refers to none) for any one word of the story.

At his first entering into the chamber, Fetty said, 'God be here, and 'peace.' God be here, and peace!' quoth Bonner, that is neither God 'speed, nor good morrow.' If ye kick against this peace,' said Fetty, 'then this is not the place that I seek for.'

A chaplain of the bishop's standing by, turned the poor man about, ' and thinking to deface him said in mocking-wise, 'What have we here, a player?' Whilst this Fetty was standing in the bishop's chamber he 'espied hanging about the bishop's bed a great pair of black beads: whereupon he said, 'My lord, I think the hangman is not far off; for 'the halter' (pointing to the beads) 'is here already.' At which words 'the bishop was in a MARVELLOUS RAGE.

"Then, immediately after, he espied also standing in the said bishop's 'chamber in the window, a little crucifix (before which belike, Bonner 'used to kneel in the time of his hypocritical prayers). Then he asked 'the bishop what it was; and he answered that it was Christ. Was he 'handled so cruelly as he is here pictured?' quoth Fetty.

"Yea, that he was,' said the bishop.

"And even so cruelly will you handle such as come before you. For 'you are unto God's people, as Caiaphas was unto Christ.'

"The Bishop, being in a GREAT FURY, said, 'Thou art a vile heretic; ' and I will burn thee, or else I will spend all that I have, unto my gown." "Nay, my lord,' said Fetty, 'ye were better to give it a poor body, that 'he may pray for you?'

"But yet Bonner, bethinking himself of the danger that the child was in by their whipping, and what peril might ensue thereupon, thought 'better to discharge him; which thing was accomplished. Whereupon 'after this and such like talk, the bishop at last discharged him, willing 'him to go home, and carry his child with him," &c. Certainly if Bonner was a wild beast, Fetty was a Van Amburgh.

tion or submission, or some sort of voucher, to lay before the Council. But nothing, I repeat, is said about it.

Our business, however, is rather with the story of the unfortunate little creature, whom, for his impertinence, Fox has made a martyr. Within fourteen days after he had been taken home by his father the child is said to have died; and Fox most characteristically adds "Whether 'through this cruel scourging, or any other infirmity, I 'know not; and therefore I refer the truth thereof unto 'the Lord who knoweth all secrets, and also to the discreet 'judgement of the wise reader; " discreet and wise historian -he gives no hint how he picked up the story, and does not venture to insinuate that the boy, or the father, or anybody else ever said that the Bishop even knew of the whipping. Such is the authority for Fuller's bold, brief, and, I suppose I may add, false statement.

But there is also the case of "Hugh Laverock a creeple, sixty-eight years old, whom he caused to be burned." It is really not worth while to waste time on such childish stuff. If Fuller had said that nobody, of any age, lame or not lame, ought to be burned for heresy, one would fully and heartily agree with him. The law by which it was done, was execrable, and should have been altered; but while the law existed, while the government enforced it, while public opinion and even the most violent partisans of the Reformation supported it, when, as far as I know, nobody had ever thought of saying a word against it-when things were in this state what was a judge to do? Half a century ago people in general, I believe, thought that a man who had committed forgery ought to be hanged; and, though our judges were not bloody wolves, it was a very rare thing for a convicted forger to escape the gallows. How the court and jury sworn would have stared if the counsel for the prisoner had admitted the fact without hesitation, declared that his client did it on principle, gloried in it, and would do it again as soon as he was discharged-for discharged he would of course be, seeing that he was sixty-eight years old, and could not walk without a crutch?

Such matter is not worth answering, but I must notice here again the language in which the statement is made. He describes the "lame old man of the Parish of Barking, painter," as one whom Bonner "caused to be burned." Of