noticed it no farther than by desiring another preacher to comment upon it the ensuing Sunday. But when it was perceived that the accomplices in this scheme of delusion, emboldened by impunity, had communicated with Queen Catharine and with the Pope's Ambassadors, the affair assumed a serious aspect, and the parties were apprehended. They confessed the imposture, and with this public exposure it might probably have ended, had not other accomplices spread a report that the Nun had been forced into this confession, and tampered with her to make her deny all that she had confessed. She was then executed, with five of her associates, for treason, acknowledging the justice of her sentence, and saying, these men, who must have known she was feigning, persuaded her that it was the work of the Holy Ghost, because what she feigned was profitable to them, . . . and thus they had brought themselves and her to this deserved end.

Among the persons who were implicated for misprision of treason in this affair, was Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, an old and venerable man, but who had been forward in persecuting the Reformers, and acted on this occasion with culpable remissness, for which credulity was no excuse. Cromwell advised him to write to the King, acknowledge his offence, and ask for pardon, which he knew the King would grant. But a blind party-spirit possessed the old man; he wrote back saying, that having a high opinion of the Nun's holiness, and believing, by what is said in the Prophet Amos, that God will do nothing without revealing it to his servants, he had sometimes spoken with the Nun, and sent his Chaplain to her, for the purpose of trying the truth, and had never discovered any falsehood in her and for what she told him about the King, he thought it needless to communicate it, because she said she had told it to the King herself; and moreover, she had named no person who should kill him, which, by being known, might be prevented. Therefore he had not thought himself bound to denounce her, and desired, for Christ's sake, that he might no more be troubled about the matter, otherwise he would speak his conscience freely. Cromwell, in reply, exposed the futility and impropriety of such an answer. He appealed to Fisher's conscience, whether, if the Nun had prophesied for the King, he would have given such easy credit to her; told him, that if it

came to a trial, he must be found guilty; and again assured him of pardon, if he would ask for it, . . . the Bishop's persistance in refusing to do this was plainly a matter of obstinacy, not of conscience.

Sir Thomas More also was accused of having communicated with the Nun, and being so far concerned with her, as to bring him within reach of the statute. But he acted with more judgement and better temper, when Cromwell, who was his friend, invited him, in like manner, to exculpate himself. He had heard of her, he said, eight or nine years ago, when the King put into his hands a roll containing certain words, which, according to report, she had spoken in her trances, but which he thought such as any silly woman might utter. Afterwards he had heard other of her revelations; some very strange and some very childish. Nevertheless, thinking her to be a pious woman, he had visited her once and desired her prayers, and written to her, advising her to beware how she meddled with affairs of state. A copy of this letter he sent to Cromwell. It expressed more belief in her revelations than Sir Thomas ought to have given, after she herself had told him that the Devil was caught in her chamber one day, in the shape of a bird, which when it was taken, changed into such a strange ugly shape, that they threw him out of the window in their fright. A meritorious deed, he said, had been done in bringing this detestable hypocrisy to light; and, for himself, he had neither in this matter done evil, nor said evil, nor so much as any evil thing thought. All that had passed, he had here fully declared; and if, said he, " any man report of me, as I trust verily no man will, and I wot well truly no man can, any word or deed by me spoken or done, touching any breach of my legal truth and duty toward my most redoubted Sovereign and natural liege Lord, I will come to mine answer, and make it good in such wise as becometh a poor true man to do, that whosoever any such thing shall say, shall therein say untrue."

The explanation availed, as it ought. But Sir Thomas had resigned the Chancellorship, when Henry had determined upon divorcing himself in defiance of the Papal authority: this had given offence, and Henry was a man upon whose heart enmity took deeper hold than love. He had formerly delighted in More's delightful conversation; but when Sir Thomas's son-in-law con

gratulated him one day on the favour which he enjoyed, the King having walked in his garden with him, with an arm' about his neck, he replied, "I thank God, I find his Grace my very good Lord and Master, and I do believe he doth as singularly favour me, as he doth any subject within this realm. Howbeit, son Roper, I have no cause to be proud of it; for if my head would win him a castle in France, it should not fail to fly from my shoulders, as fast now as it seemeth to stick." Perceiving now in what direction the current had set, and how probable it was that some perilous question might arise, in which he must sacrifice either his conscience or his life, the alternative had not occasioned a moment's doubt, and he had. endeavoured to prepare his family for the worst. This he did as if it were sportively, in tenderness to them, alarming them once or twice with a false messenger summoning him to appear before the Council, and often taking occasion to remark, that a man might lose his head and be never a whit the worse. When the real summons came, he would not suffer his wife and children to accompany him to his boat, as they were wont to do, but kissing them, and desiring their prayers, pulled the wicket after him. For awhile he sat in the boat, with a heavy heart, in silence; then thanked God that the field was won, and resumed his habitual cheerfulness.

The matter upon which he was called for was the oath of the succession, which he had apprehended. No other layman had yet been summoned to swear it; in fact, there was none whose · example would carry with it so much weight. Having read the Act and the Preamble, which maintained the lawfulness of the divorce, Sir Thomas said, he would swear to the succession, but not to the Preamble; not that he either condemned the oath, nor the conscience of any man that took it, but take it himself he could not, without jeoparding his soul to perpetual damnation. They required him to declare his reasons, which he declined, and observed, that seeing to declare them was dangerous, it was no obstinacy to leave them undeclared. This had never been allowed when men were compelled to declare their opinion concerning the corporeal presence, and then burnt for declaring it. In the conversation which ensued, Cranmer pressed him with able arguments, and Cromwell with earnest

...

1 Life of Sir T. More in Dr. Wordsworth's Ecc. Biog. vol. ii. p. 79.

kindness, to obey the King; but Sir Thomas rested the matter upon his conscience, which, he said, after long leisure and diligent search, had concluded plainly against obedience in this case, whatever might mis-happen. He was therefore committed to the Abbot of Westminster's keeping, till the Council should have determined how to proceed. Fisher had, in like manner, offered to swear to the Act, but refused the Preamble. If Cranmer's advice had been taken, this would have been deemed sufficient; he represented that the succession was the main thing, and it might well suffice, if the whole realm, by the example of these persons, should be brought to maintain it, though there might be some who, either of wilfulness, or of an indurate and invertible conscience, would not alter from their opinion of the King's first marriage.

This advice was wise as well as humane, and Cranmer wisely rested it upon grounds of policy. Cromwell was not wanting in desire to save a man whom he highly esteemed; but Henry was a sovereign not to be dissuaded from his purposes, and, judging of other men's feelings by his own, he looked upon More and Fisher as his determined and dangerous enemies. It was unfortunate for both, that they took precisely the same course, and alleged the same reasons for it.; for this, though but a natural coincidence in men who acted upon the same principles, was imputed by Henry to a concerted system of opposition to his government. This opinion was strengthened when some leading members of the Carthusians denied the King's supremacy, which it had now been made treasonable to deny. Several were brought to trial for this, and executed as traitors; and though some of these victims had expressed their hopes for a successful rebellion against one whom they called a tyrant and a heretic, and others were implicated in the imposture of the Nun, still, suffering as they did, for a point of conscience, their execution brought the first stain upon the Reformation in England. For the law created the offence which it punished so severely. It was essential that the King's supremacy should not be opposed; and it was necessary also, for the establishment of this fundamental principle, that it should be recognised by the heads of the Clergy. The proper course would therefore have been, that this recognition should be required from all who chose to retain

their professional rank and preferment. Upon those who made their choice rather to resign, no farther restraint ought to have been imposed, than that, as in other cases, and 'under pains and penalties proportionate to the offence, they should do nothing in opposition to what was now the law of the land. But the barbarous manners of the middle ages had hardly yet perceptibly been mitigated; and laws retain their barbarity long after manners have been softened. The nation had been accustomed to the most inhuman executions, for political as well as religious causes; so that actions, which no man can now contemplate without abhorrence, were regarded by them as in the ordinary course of affairs. They who felt differently were advanced beyond their age, if at this time there were any such persons, of which there is no proof.

Henry's appetite for cruelty had not yet been kindled, and he appears reluctantly to have put these Carthusians to death. Some of them were men of family and learning. They had at first concurred with their brethren in convocation, to acknowledge the supremacy which they now denied. This change, therefore, seemed to him not to proceed so much from conscience, as to be connected with designs which might shake his throne. He would fain have persuaded them to submission, and used all means for that purpose; a scruple of conscience, whether right or wrong, is more likely to be confirmed than removed by such negotiations; and when threats are held out to enforce persuasions, they are sometimes unwillingly fulfilled, because they have been despised, and lest it should be thought that they were made without the intention of fulfilling them. But when an evil course is thus begun, it is persisted in oftentimes from obstinacy and pride. Henry had the feelings of an absolute king; such in reality he was; the civil wars had broken the power of the Barons, and his father's policy had completed what that long struggle had begun; he had rendered the Church dependent upon him, and the Commons had not risen into power. Parliament, therefore, was the mere instrument of his will, and the only check upon him was what might be found in the integrity of his Counsellors, the best and wisest of whom too often found it necessary to acquiesce in what they deeply regretted and disapproved.