SECTION I.

HUGH LATIMER was born at Thirkeſſon in Leiceſterſhire, about the year 1470. His father was a yeoman of good reputation; had no land of his own, but rented a ſmall farm, on which, in thoſe frugal times, he maintained a large family, ſix daughters, and a ſon. Mr. Lari⯑mer, in one of his court ſermons in king Edward's time, inveighing againſt the op⯑preſſion then exerciſed in the country by the nobility and gentry, and ſpeaking of the mo⯑deration [2]of landlords a few years before, and the plenty in which their tenants lived, tells his audience, in his familiar way, ‘That upon a farm of four pounds a year at the utmoſt, his father tilled as much ground as kept half a dozen men; that he had it ſtocked with an hundred ſheep, and thirty cows; that he found the king a man and horſe, himſelf remembering to have buckled on his father's harneſs, when he went to Black-heath; that he gave his daughters five pounds apiece at marriage; that he lived hoſpitably among his neighbours, and was not backward in his alms to the poor.’—An entertaining picture of an old Engliſh yeoman!

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

Many of the reformed opinions, which were then fermenting in Germany, had by [3]this time diſcovered themſelves in England. The legiſtature had not yet interfered; but the watchful prieſts had taken the alarm, and the danger of the church was already become the popular cry. Mr. Latimer, among others, heard, with high indignation, theſe novel teachers: zeal wrought the ſame effect in him that intereſt did in the many; and while others were apprehenſive that their temporals might be in danger, he was concerned for the ſouls of men. The laſt times, he thought, were now approaching: impiety was gaining ground apace: what lengths might not men be expected to run, when they began to que⯑ſtion even the infallibility of the pope?

As his well-meant zeal was thus inflamed, it of courſe broke out into all the effects of bigotry. He inveighed publicly and privately againſt the reformers. If any read lectures in the ſchools ſuſpected of their tenets, Mr. La⯑timer was ſure to be there to drive out the ſcholars; and having an opportunity, when he commenced bachelor of divinity, to give an open teſtimony of his diſlike to their pro⯑ceedings, he made an oration againſt Me⯑lancthon, whom he treated with great ſeve⯑rity for his impious innovations in religion. [4]His zeal was ſo much taken notice of in the univerſity, that he was elected into the office of croſs-bearer in all public proceſſions; an employment, which he accepted with reve⯑rence, and diſcharged with becoming ſolem⯑nity.

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

It was Mr. Latimer's good fortune to be well acquainted with this religious perſon. [5]Mr. Bilney had long indeed conceived very fa⯑vourable ſentiments of him. He had known his life in the univerſity, a life ſtrictly moral and devout: he aſcribed his failings to the genius of his religion; and notwithſtanding his more than ordinary zeal in the profeſſion of that re⯑ligion, he could not but obſerve in him a ve⯑ry candid temper, prejudiced by no finiſter views, and an honeſty of heart, which gave him great hopes of his reformation.

Induced by theſe favourable appearances, Mr. Bilney failed not, as opportunities offered, to ſuggeſt many things to him about corrup⯑tions in religion; and would frequently drop a hint, that in the Romiſh church in particular there were perhaps ſome things, which rather deviated from apoſtolic plainneſs. He would inſtance ſome of it's groſſer tenets; and aſk, whether the ſcriptural authority alledged for them was wholly ſufficient? if not, whether tradition were a ſafe vehicle for doctrines of ſuch importance? Thus ſtarting cavils, and infuſing ſuſpicions, he prepared the way for his whole creed, which at length he opened; concluding with an earneſt perſuaſion, that Mr. Latimer would only endeavour to diveſt himſelf of his prejudices, and place the two [6]ſides of the queſtion before him, with an ho⯑neſt heart for his guide.

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

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

A behaviour of this kind was immediately taken notice of. Cambridge was then the ſeat of ignorance, bigotry, and ſuperſtition: every new opinion was watched with the ut⯑moſt [7]jealouſy; and Mr. Latimer ſoon perceived how obnoxious he had already made him⯑ſelf.

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

Few of the tenets of popery were then queſtioned in England, but ſuch as tended to a relaxation of morals. Tranſubſtantiation, and other points, rather ſpeculative, ſtill held their dominion. Mr. Latimer therefore, chiefly [8]dwelt upon thoſe of immoral tendency. He ſhewed what true religion was; that it was ſeated in the heart; and that, in companiſon with it, external appointments were of no value.

Great was the outcry occaſioned by theſe diſcourſes. Mr. Latimer was then a preacher of ſome eminence, and began to diſplay a re⯑markable addreſs in adapting himſelf to the capacities of the people. The orthodox cler⯑gy obſerving him thus followed, thought it high time to oppoſe him openly. This taſk was undertaken by Dr. Buckenham, prior of the black friers, who appeared in the pulpit a few Sundays after, and with great pomp and prolixity, ſhewed the dangerous tendency of Mr. Latimer's opinions: particularly he in⯑veighed againſt his heretical notions of having the ſcriptures in Engliſh, laying open the ill effects of ſuch an innovation. If that here⯑ſy, ſaid he, ſhould prevail, we ſhould ſoon ſee an end of every thing uſeful among us. The ploughman reading, that if he put his hand to the plough, and ſhould happen to look back, he was unfit for the kingdom of God, would ſoon lay aſide his labour: the baker likewiſe reading, that a little leaven will cor⯑rupt [9]his lump, would give us very inſipid bread: the ſimple man likewiſe finding him⯑ſelf commanded to pluck out his eyes▪ in a few years we ſhould have the nation full of blind beggars.

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

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

Mr. Latimer, with great gravity, recapitu⯑lated the learned doctor's arguments, placed them in the ſtrongeſt light, and then rallied [10]them with ſuch a flow of wit, and at the ſame time with ſo much good humour, that, with⯑out the appearance of ill-nature, he made his adverſary in the higheſt degree ridiculous. He then, with great addreſs, appealed to the people, deſcanted upon the low eſteem in which their holy guides had always held their underſtandings; expreſſed the utmoſt offence at their being treated with ſuch con⯑tempt, and wiſhed his honeſt countrymen might only have the uſe of the ſcripture till they ſhewed themſelves ſuch abſurd inter⯑preters. He concluded his diſcourſe with a few obſervations upon ſcripture-metaphors. A figurative manner of ſpeech, he ſaid, was common in all languages: repreſentations of this kind were in daily uſe, and generally un⯑derſtood. Thus for inſtance, ſaid he, (ad⯑dreſſing himſelf to that part of the audience where the prior was ſeated) when we ſee a fox painted preaching in a frier's hood, no⯑body imagines that a fox is meant, but that craft and hypocriſy are deſcribed, which are ſo often found diſguiſed in that garb.—Thus was a wiſe man led away by the impulſes of vanity, and highly delighted with the little glory of having made a dunce ridiculous.

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

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

Theſe things greatly alarmed the orthodox clergy. Of this ſort were all the heads of colleges, and, indeed, the ſenior part of the univerſity. Frequent convocations were held; tutors were admoniſhed to have a ſtrict eye [12]over their pupils; and academical cenſures of all kinds were inflicted.

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

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

This gave no great check to the reformers. There happened at that time to be a prote⯑ſtant prior in Cambridge, Dr. Barnes, of the Auſtin friers. His monaſtery was ex⯑empt from epiſcopal juriſdiction, and being a great admirer of Mr. Latimer, he boldly licenced him to preach there. Hither his party followed him; and the late oppoſition having greatly excited the curioſity of the [13]people, the friers chapel was ſoon unable to contain the crowds that attended. Among others, it is remarkable, that the biſhop of Ely was often one of his hearers; and had the ingenuity to declare, that Mr. Latimer was one of the beſt preachers he had ever heard.

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

But their good lives had no merit with their adverſaries. With them it mattered not what a man's life was, if his opinions were ortho⯑dox. They could give great allowances for the former; but the leaſt miſtake in the latter, was unpardonable. Such is the true ſpirit of [14]bigotry and prieſtcraft; that phariſaical ſpirit, which, inverting the tables of the law, places points of leaſt importance uppermoſt.

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

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

SECTION II.

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

As ſoon therefore as the opinions of the re⯑formers were introduced, they were warmly [16]eſpouſed; the generality of the people were diſpoſed for them; and proteſtants in many places began to form parties. But in thoſe intolerant times when kings thought it incum⯑bent upon them to think for their Subjects, private opinion and the inclinations of the peo⯑ple were little conſulted; reaſons of ſtate pre⯑vailed; and Henry the eighth, who then reigned in England, had yet his motives for holding fair with the court of Rome.

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

At that time one of the moſt wily prelates held the ſee of Rome. He had intereſts to manage with Charles the fifth, who was averſe to the divorce. He had intereſts likewiſe to manage with Henry. Theſe croſs circumſtan⯑ces called for all his ſubtility. And indeed he [17]ſhewed himſelf a maſter of addreſs. He amuſ⯑ed each in his turn, and meant honeſtly to nei⯑ther; perplexing affairs, palliating, explaining, and perplexing again, that he might thou⯑roughly deliberate before he choſe his party. the emperor in the mean time was thorough⯑ly ſatisfied with his conduct; and Henry thought him tardy indeed, but ſtill never doubt⯑ed his diſpoſition to ſerve him. A legantine court was erected in England, and the affair went on with all the diſpatch that two ſolemn cardinals could make.

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

[18]The principal perſons at this time con⯑cerned in eccleſiaſtical affairs, were cardinal Woolſey, Warham archbiſhop of Canter⯑bury, and Tunſtal biſhop of London.

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

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

But of all the prelates of thoſe times, Cuth⯑bert Tunſtal, biſhop of London, was moſt de⯑ſervedly eſteemed. He was a papiſt only by profeſſion; no way influenced by the ſpirit of popery: but he was a good catholic, and had true notions of the genius of chriſtianity. He conſidered a good life as the end, and faith as the means; and never branded as an here⯑tic that perſon, however erroneous his opini⯑ons might be in points leſs fundamental, who [16] [...] [17] [...] [18] [...] [19] [...] [20]had ſuch a belief in Chriſt, as made him live like a chriſtian. He was juſt therefore the reverſe of Warham, and thought the perſecu⯑tion of proteſtants one of the things moſt fo⯑reign to his function. For parts and learning he was very eminent: his knowledge was ex⯑tenſive, and his taſte in letters ſuperior to that of moſt of his contemporaries. The great foible of which he ſtands accuſed in hiſtory, was the pliancy of his temper. Like moſt of the biſhops of thoſe times, he had been bred in a court; and was indeed too dextrous in the arts there practiſed.

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

But complaints from Cambridge increaſing daily, and Warham of courſe growing more importunate, the cardinal was at length obliged [21]to ſhake off his indifference, and begin to act. He erected a court therefore, conſiſting of biſhops, divines, and canoniſts. Tunſtal was made preſident; and Bilney, Latimer, and one or two more were called upon to anſwer for their conduit. Bilney was conſidered as the hereſiarc, and againſt him chiefly, the rigour of the court was levelled. His examination was accordingly ſevere: every witneſs was heard with ſo much attention, and every de⯑poſition enlarged upon with ſo much bitter⯑neſs, that Tunſtal deſpaired of mixing any temper with the proceedings of his colleagues. The proceſs came to an end, and the criminal, declaring himſelf what they called an obſti⯑nate heretic, was found guilty. Here Tun⯑ſtal had an opportunity to ſhew the goodneſs of his heart. He could not interfere in Mr. Bilney's favour in a judicial way; but he la⯑boured to ſave him by all the means in his power. He firſt ſet his friends upon him, to perſuade him to recant; and when that would not do, he joined his intreaties to theirs, had patience with him day after day, and with all the tenderneſs of humanity, begged he would not oblige him, contrary to his inclinations, to treat him with ſeverity. The good biſhop [22]in the end prevailed: Bilney could not with⯑ſtand the winning rhetoric of Tunſtal, though he had withſtood all the menaces of the in⯑flamed Warham. He recanted, bore his fag⯑got, and was diſmiſſed.

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

The heretics, upon their diſmiſſion, return⯑ed to Cambridge, where they were received with open arms by their friends. Amidſt this mutual joy, Bilney alone ſeemed un⯑affected: he ſhunned the fight of his acquaintance, and received their officious con⯑gratulations with confuſion and bluſhes. Re⯑flection had now brought him to himſelf; and remorſe of conſcience had ſeized him for what he had done. Reſtleſs nights, fright⯑ful dreams, and other effects of a mind that preys upon itſelf, in a ſhort time diſturbed his reaſon; and it was feared he might have com⯑mitted ſomething horrid, if thoſe about him had not cloſely attended him. In the ago⯑nies [23]of his deſpair, his pathetic and eager accuſations of his friends, of the biſhop of London, and above all, of himſelf, were very affecting. Thus he continued for ſome time one of the moſt ſhocking ſpectacles that hu⯑man nature can exhibit. His paſſion having had its courſe, at length ſubſided; and by degrees gave place to a profound melan⯑choly. In this ſtate he continued about three years, reading much, avoiding company, and in all reſpects obſerving the ſeverity of an aſ⯑cetic. During this time, and eſpecially to⯑wards the latter part of it, he would frequent⯑ly be throwing out obſcure hints of his meditating ſome extraordinary deſign. He would ſay, that he was now almoſt prepared — that he would ſhortly go up to Jeruſa⯑lem— and that God muſt be glorified in him. After keeping his friends awhile in ſuſpenſe by this myſterious language, he told them at laſt, that he was fully determined to expiate his late ſhameful abjuration by his death. What they could oppoſe, had no weight. He had taken his reſolution; and breaking at once from all his attachments in Cam⯑bridge, he ſet out for Norfolk, which was the place of his nativity, and which, for that rea⯑ſon, [24]he choſe to make the ſcene of his death. When he came there, he went about the country, confeſſing his guilt in abjuring a faith, in which he was now determined to die. Popery, he told the people, was a moſt diabolical religion; and exhorted them to beware of idolatry, and to truſt no longer in the cowl of St. Francis, in prayers to ſaints, in pilgrimages, penances, and indulgences; but rather to believe in Jeſus Chriſt, and to lead good lives, which was all that God re⯑quired of them.

The report of this very extraordinary preacher ſoon reached the ears of the biſhop of Norwich, who watched over thoſe parts with the zeal of an inquiſitor. Mr. Bilney was ſoon apprehended, and ſecured in the county-gaol. While he lay there wai⯑ting the arrival of the writ for his execution, he gave very ſurpriſing inſtances of a firm and collected mind. He began now to recover from that abject ſtate of melancholy, which had for theſe laſt three years oppreſſed him; and, like an honeſt man, who had long lived under a difficult debt, he began to reſume his ſpirits, when he thought himſelf in a ſituation to diſcharge it. Some of his friends found [25]him eating a hearty ſupper the night be⯑fore his execution, and expreſſing their ſur⯑prize, he told them, he was but doing what they had daily examples of in common life: he was only keeping his cottage in repair, while he continued to inhabit it. The ſame compoſure ran through his whole behaviour; and his converſation was that evening more agreeable than his friends almoſt ever remem⯑bered it. He dwelt much upon a paſſage in Iſaiah, which he ſaid gave him much comfort. "Fear not, for I have redeemed thee; thou art mine. When thou walkeſt in the fire, it ſhall not burn thee: I am the Lord thy God." With equal conſtancy he went through his laſt trial. His death, which Mr. Fox relates at large, was as noble an inſtance of chriſtian courage, as thoſe times, fruitful of ſuch examples, afforded. The popiſh party would have had it afterwards believed he died in their faith: and great pains were taken by many of them to propagate the ſtory; parti⯑cularly by Sir Thomas Moore, whoſe opinions in religion were as confined, as his ſenti⯑ments upon all other ſubjects were enlarged: but Mr. Fox, biſhop Burnet, and others, have ſufficiently refuted the many idle things which were ſaid upon that occaſion.

[26]The following account of him, Mr. Lati⯑mer hath left us in a letter to a friend.

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

SECTION III.

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

Ever ſince the reformation had any footing in the kingdom, great care had been taken by the promoters of it to propagate among the people a variety of tracts, ſome on the points then in controverſy, others, and the greater part, on the corruptions of the clergy. Theſe books were printed abroad, and ſent [28]over in great quantities. Among other works of this kind, a tranſlation of the New Teſta⯑ment was diſperſed. Great were the cla⯑mours of the orthodox againſt theſe malig⯑nant and peſtiferous writings, as they were then called. But as the government did not interfere, the biſhops could only uſe the au⯑thority of the laws then in force, in guarding each his dioceſe from theſe invaſions of he⯑reſy. Epiſcopal injunctions were accordingly publiſhed, and all poſſible care was taken. But the laws then in force, did not intirely touch the caſe: none of them were particu⯑larly pointed againſt. heretical books. Some⯑thing more therefore muſt be obtained from the government.

It happened, that among other tracts then diſperſed, there was one Written in a warmer language than ordinary. It was entitled, The Supplication of the Beggars, and contained a very ſevere invective againſt. the regular clergy, whoſe exorbitant exactions upon the people were there repreſented as the chief ſource of all the poverty in the nation. This piece rouſed the whole body of the clergy; and the cardinal being at their head, a ſucceſsful appli⯑cation was made to the king, who immediate⯑ly [29]iſſued out a moſt ſevere proclamation againſt heretical books, commanding that all ſuch books ſhould be delivered up within fifteen days, and impowering the biſhops to impriſon at pleaſure all perſons ſuſpected of having them, till the party had purged himſelf, or abjured: it impowered the biſhops likewiſe to ſet an arbitrary fine upon all perſons convict⯑ed. It farther forbad all appeals from eccle⯑ſiaſtical courts; and obliged all civil officers, by oath, to uſe their utmoſt endeavours to ex⯑tirpate hereſy, and aſſiſt the biſhops; juſtices were to inquire, at their quarterly ſeſſions, in⯑to the ſtate of religion in their counties; and ſheriffs were to arreſt all ſuſpected perſons, and deliver them to the biſhops.

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

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

St. Auguſtin, in an epiſtle to Caſulanus, tells us, "That he who through fear, hideth the truth, provoketh the wrath of heaven, as a perſon who fears man more than God." And St. Chryſoſtom, to the ſame effect, gives it as his opinion, "That a perſon may betray the truth, as well by concealing it, as diſ⯑guiſing it." Theſe ſentences, great king, oc⯑curred [31]to me very lately; and have had ſuch an effect upon me, that I muſt either open my conſcience to your majeſty, or rank my⯑ſelf among ſuch perſons as theſe two holy fa⯑thers cenſure.—The latter I cannot think of.

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

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

And firſt it is evident, that ſimplicity of manners, and hearts ſequeſtered from the world, were the ſtriking characteriſtics of the firſt preachers of the goſpel, and of our bleſſed Lord himſelf. Poverty in ſpirit was then practiſed as well as preached. Alas! it is ſince thoſe days that chriſtian teachers, maſk⯑ing their worldly hearts under a pretence of voluntary poverty, and an excluſion from car⯑nal things, have wormed themſelves into more than regal wealth; and have wickedly kept what they have craftily obtained, by fomenting foreign or domeſtic ſtrife, in all places, as their purpoſes were beſt ſerved; and by blaſphe⯑mouſly dealing out even the puniſhments of heaven againſt all who had reſolution enough to make any ſtand againſt their corruptions. By what arts they have evaded a late act of parliament againſt their encroachments, your [33]majeſty well knows. — Think not, gracious ſovereign, that I exceed the bounds of charity in what I ſay: I only offer to your majeſty's conſideration a rule, which was once pre⯑ſcribed by a greater maſter, "By their fruits you ſhall know them."

Another mark of the true diſciples of Chriſt, is their being at all times expoſed to perſecution. It would be endleſs to quote all the paſſages of ſcripture, in which this burden is univerſally laid upon good chriſtians. Contempt and reproach is their common lot, and often the moſt violent perſecutions, even to death itſelf. Where-ever, therefore, the word of God is truly preached, you muſt ex⯑pect to ſee perſecution in one ſhape or other. On the contrary, where-ever you ſee eaſe and luxury, and a quiet poſſeſſion of worldly plea⯑ſures, there the truth cannot poſſibly be. For the world loveth only ſuch as are worldly; and the favourers of the goſpel can expect no⯑thing in it from reaſon, and are promiſed no⯑thing in it by ſcripture, but vexation and trouble.—From this diſtinction again, your majeſty, by the aſſiſtance of the above-men⯑tioned rule, "By their fruits you ſhall know them," will be able to judge, who are the [34]true followers of Chriſt: where-ever you ob⯑ſerve perſecution, there is more than a proba⯑bility that the truth lies on the perſecuted ſide.

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

When king David ſent ambaſſadors to the young king of the Ammonites to con⯑dole with him upon the death of his father, your majeſty may remember what unadviſed counſel was given to that raſh prince. His counſellors put it into his head, contrary to all reaſon, that David's meſſengers came only as ſpies, and that David certainly meant [...] invaſion. The young king, upon this, with⯑out farther ceremony, wantonly ſhaved the heads of the ambaſſadors, and treated them with other inſtances of contempt. But the [35]following verſes inform us, how the affair ended. The deſtruction of the whole land, we read, was the conſequenee of the king's liſtening to imprudent counſel.

Let not, great king, this fact find its parallel in Engliſh ſtory. The ambaſſadors of a great prince are now making ſuit to you; the holy evangeliſts, and apoſtles of Chriſt. Be upon your guard; and believe not the idle tales of thoſe who would perſuade you, that theſe meſſengers of peace are coming to foment ſedition in your land. Would your majeſty know the true cauſe of this confederacy, as I may well call it, againſt the word of God; examine the lives of thoſe who are the leaders of it, and conſider whether there may not be ſome private reaſons inducing ſuch perſons to keep a book in concealment, which cries out loudly againſt all kinds of vice. And if your majeſty wants to know the ſource of rebel⯑lions, I think a much fairer one may be con⯑jectured at, than the uſe of an Engliſh Bible. For my own part, I have long been of opini⯑on, that a greater encouragement of all kinds of civil diſorder could hardly have been in⯑vented, than the church-trade of pardons and indulgences: to which may be added the bad [36]examples of the clergy, and the little care they are generally thought to take in the diſcharge of their duty.

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

Accept, gracious ſovereign, without diſ⯑pleaſure, what I have written. I thought it my duty to mention theſe things to your ma⯑jeſty. No perſonal quarrel, as God ſhall judge me, have I with any man: I wanted only to induce your majeſty to conſider well what kind of perſons you have about you, and the ends for which they counſel: indeed, great [37]prince, many of them, or they are much ſlan⯑dered, have very private ends. God grant your majeſty may ſee through all the deſigns of evil men: and be in all things equal to the high office with which you are entruſted!

He concludes his letter with theſe very emphatical words.

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

With ſuch freedom did this true miniſter of the goſpel addreſs his ſovereign. But the influence of the popiſh party was then ſo great, that his letter produced no effect. The king, however, no way diſpleaſed, received it not only with temper, but with great con⯑deſcenſion, graciouſly thanking him for his [38]well-intended advice. This monarch notwith⯑ſtanding his many vices, would frequently in⯑dulge a very generous manner of thinking. He was himſelf generally open in his beha⯑viour; and was a great lover of ſincerity in others. Plainneſs and honeſty were com⯑monly ſure of his attention. And though no man was more impatient of controul, or na⯑turally more haſty upon moſt occaſions, and violent than he was, yet he would often hear the truth, and the truth indeed ſpoken with great freedom, from thoſe, of whoſe ſincerity he was thoroughly convinced. I make theſe remarks chiefly becauſe Mr. Latimer was a perſon whoſe plain and ſimple manner had made a favourable impreſſion upon him; which good opinion this letter contributed not a little to ſtrengthen.

SECTION IV.

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

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

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

The uſurpations of the pope had, be⯑fore this time, been the ſubject of a par⯑liamentary inquiry. Through many pre⯑ceeding reigns, the exactions of the holy ſee had been ſo oppreſſive, that the legiſlature was often applied to for redreſs; and many laws, breathing a noble ſpirit of freedom, had been enacted, by which the Roman power was much abridged. Of theſe the moſt fa⯑mous were the ſtatute againſt the pope's tax⯑gatherers, commonly called the ſtature againſt proviſors; and the ſtatute of praemunire, pro⯑hibiting bulls and other inſtruments from Rome. The word praemunire, which gave name to the ſtatute, was one of the capital words in the writ, upon which it was executed.

[41]But notwithſtanding theſe, and many other bold laws were enacted, no effect was pro⯑duced. They were promulged, and laid aſide. The influence of the vatican was indeed yet too conſiderable to ſuffer any very ſpirited at⯑tacks upon its power.

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

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

Whatever motives in earneſt influenced king Henry, he had always policy enough to pay an outward regard at leaſt to thoſe of con⯑ſcience. [42]He took care therefore to reſolve his ſcruples, before he gratified his paſſions. Thus he had the opinion of all the divines in Europe, before he ventured upon his divorce. And thus, in the preſent caſe, he durſt not aſſert his ſupremacy, till he had conſulted with the ableſt canoniſts of his realm, and fully ſatisfied himſelf, that what he did, was agreeable to the Old and New Teſta⯑ment.

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

This gentleman being ſent to Cambridge up⯑on the occaſion mentioned, began immediately to pay his court to the proteſtant party, from whom the king expected moſt unanimity in his favour. Among the firſt, he made his application to Mr. Latimer, as a perſon moſt likely to ſerve him; begging that he would collect the opinions of his friends in the caſe, and do his utmoſt to bring over thoſe of moſt eminence, who were ſtill inclined to the pa⯑pacy. [43]Mr. Latimer, who was a thorough friend to the cauſe he was to ſolicit, under⯑took it with his uſual zeal; and diſcharged himſelf ſo much to the ſatisfaction of the doctor, that when that gentleman returned to court, he took Mr. Latimer along with him; with a view, no doubt, to procure him ſomething anſwerable to his merit.

About this time a perſon was riſing into power, who became afterwards Mr. Latimer's chief friend and patron; the great lord Cromwell: a perſon in all reſpects ſo formed for command, that we admire him, through hiſtory, as ſomething more than human, as one of thoſe great inſtruments, which provi⯑dence often raiſes up, and ſeems to inſpire, for ſome grand purpoſe. His deſcent was mean, but his enterpriſing genius ſoon raiſed him above the obſcurity of his birth. We firſt find him abroad, leading a wild, romantic life in various capacities. In Holland he was a hackney writer; in Italy a foot ſoldier. After ſpending a very diſſipated youth in this vague way, he returned home, and was taken into the ſervice of cardinal Woolſey, who in a ſhort time made him his ſecretary. Under this ſagacious miniſter he began to methodize [44]the large fund of knowledge he had been treaſuring up; and was ſoon valued by the cardinal, who was by no means ill-ſerved, as one of the ableſt of his ſervants. The cardi⯑nal's fall was his riſe: but he roſe not, like moſt favourites, by betraying, but by defend⯑ing his maſter. Woolſey had arrived at the full meridian of his glory; that critical point, at which human grandeur begins to decline. The diſtreſſed miniſter was now at bay, preſſed hard by a parliamentary inquiry. The king had withdrawn his favour from him, and all his dependents (thoſe ſummer⯑flies of a great man's ſunſhine) began to ſhrink and die away. Cromwell alone, with a ge⯑neroſity almoſt unparalleled in hiſtory, boldly maintained his cauſe; and pleaded for him ſo forcibly before the commons, that if his ruin had not been a thing reſolved on, he bid fair to avert it. Woolſey fell; but Cromwell's ge⯑neroſity was rewarded. The king was pleaſed with his behaviour, marked his abilities, from that time favoured, and ſoon employed him. His great talents quickly recommended him to the higheſt truſts; and his ſovereign uſed his ſervices almoſt implicitly.

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

This benefice was in Wiltſhire, whither Mr. Latimer reſolved, as ſoon as poſſible, to repair, and keep a conſtant reſidence. His friend Dr. Butts, ſurpriſed at his reſolution, did what he could to perſuade him from it. "He was deſerting, he told him, the faireſt appearances of making his fortune. The prime miniſter, ſays he, intends this only as an earneſt of his future favours; and will cer⯑tainly in time, do great things for you. But it is the manner of courts to conſider thoſe as provided for, who ſeem to be ſatisfied: and take my word for it, an abſent claimant ſtands but a poor chance among rivals, who have the advantage of being preſent." Thus the old courtier adviſed. But Mr. Latimer was not a man on whom ſuch arguments had any weight. He had no other notion of making [46]his fortune, than that of putting himſelf in a way of being uſeful. Great and good, were with him words of the ſame meaning. And though he knew his friend's advice was well meant, yet he knew at the ſame time, that a man may as eaſily be deceived by the kindneſs of his friend, as by the guile of his enemy. Beſides, he was heartily tired of a court. He had yet ſeen little of the world; and was ſhocked to be introduced at once to a place, where he ſaw vice in every ſhape triumphant: where factions raged: where all the arts of malice were practiſed; where vanity and folly prevailed, debauchery of manners, diſſimula⯑tion, and irreligion: where he not only ſaw theſe things, but what moſt grieved him, where he found himſelf utterly unable to op⯑poſe them: for he had neither authority, nor, as he thought, talents, to reclaim the great. He left the court therefore, and en⯑tered immediately upon the duties of his pariſh; hoping to be of ſome uſe in the world, by faithfully exerting, in a private ſta⯑tion, ſuch abilities as God had given him.

His behaviour was ſuitable to his reſolutions. He thoroughly conſidered the office of a cler⯑gyman; and diſcharged it in the moſt con⯑ſcientious [47]manner. Nor was he ſatisfied with diſcharging it in his own pariſh, but extended his labours throughout the county, where he obſerved the paſtoral care moſt neglected; having for this purpoſe obtained a general li⯑cence from the univerſity of Cambridge.

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

The reputation he was thus daily gaining, preſently alarmed the orthodox clergy in thoſe parts. Their oppoſition to him appeared firſt on this occaſion: the mayor of Briſtol had appointed him to preach there on an Eaſter-ſunday. Public notice had been given, and all people were pleaſed: when ſuddenly, there came out an order from the biſhop of Briſtol, prohibiting any one to preach there with⯑out his licence. The clergy of the place waited upon Mr. Latimer, informed him of the biſhop's order, and, knowing that he had no ſuch licence, "were extremely ſorry [48]that they were by that means deprived of the pleaſure of hearing an excellent diſcourſe from him." Mr. Latimer received their civility with a ſmile; for he had been apprized of the affair, and well knew, that theſe were the very perſons who had written to the biſhop againſt him.

Their oppoſition to him became afterwards more public. Some of them aſcended the pulpit in their zeal, and inveighed againſt him there with great indecency of language. Of theſe the moſt forward was one Hubberdin, an empty, impudent fellow, who could ſay no⯑thing of his own, but any thing that was put into his mouth. Through this inſtrument, and others of the ſame kind, ſuch liberties were taken with Mr. Latimer's character, that he thought it proper at length to juſtify him⯑ſelf; and accordingly called upon his maligners to accuſe him publicly before the mayor of Briſtol. And with all men of candour he was juſtified; for when that magiſtrate convened both parties, and put the accuſers upon pro⯑ducing legal proof of what they had ſaid, nothing of that kind appeared; but the whole accuſation was left to reſt upon the uncertain evidence of ſome hear-ſay information.

[49]His enemies, however, were not thus ſilenced. The party againſt him became daily ſtronger and more inflamed. It con⯑ſiſted in general of the country prieſts of thoſe parts, headed by ſome divines of more emi⯑nence.

Theſe perſon, after mature deliberation, drew up articles againſt him, extracted chiefly from his ſermons; in which he was charged with ſpeaking lightly of the worſhip of ſaints; with ſaying, that there was no material fire in hell; and that he would rather be in pur⯑gatory, than in Lollard's tower. Theſe arti⯑cles, in the form of an accuſation, were laid before ſtokeſley biſhop of London. This prelate immediately cited Mr. Latimer to ap⯑pear before him. But Mr. Latimer, inſtead of obeying the citation, appealed to his own ordinary; thinking himſelf wholly exempt from the juriſdiction of any other boſhop. Stokeſley, upon this, making a private cauſe of it, was determined at any rate to get him in his power. He applied therefore to arch⯑biſhop Warham, whoſe zeal was nearly of a temper with his own malice. The arch⯑biſhop, being eaſily perſuaded, cited Mr. La⯑timer to appear forthwith in his own court; [50]where the biſhop of London, and ſome other biſhops were commiſſioned to examine him. An archiepiſcopal citation brought Mr. Lati⯑mer at once to a compliance. His friends would have had him leave the country; but their perſuaſions were in vain. Before he ſet out for London, he wrote the following letter to a friend.

"I marvel not a little, that my lord of London, having ſo large a dioceſe committed to his care, and ſo peopled as it is, can have leiſure either to trouble me, or to trouble himſelf with me, ſo poor a wretch, a ſtranger to him, and nothing pertaining to his cure. Methinks it were more comely for my lord, if it were comely for me to ſay ſo, to be a preacher himſelf, than to he a diſquieter of preachers. If it would pleaſe his lordſhip to take ſo great labour and pain, as to come and preach in my little biſhopric at Weſtking⯑ton, whether I were preſent or abſent, I would thank his lordſhip heartily for helping to diſ⯑charge me in my cure, as long as his predica⯑tion was fruitful, and to the edification of my pariſhioners. But he may do as he pleaſeth: I pray God he may do as well as I would wiſh him to do: and as to my preaching, I truſt in [51]God, my lord of London cannot juſtly re⯑prove it, if it be taken as I ſpake it; elſe it is not my preaching.

Either my lord of London will judge mine outward man, or mine inward man. If he will have to do only with mine outward man, how I have ordered my life, I truſt I ſhall pleaſe both my Lord God, and alſo my lord of London; for I have taught but according to the ſcriptures, and the antient interpreters of ſcriptures; and with all diligence moved my auditors to faith and charity; and as for voluntary things, I reproved the abuſe, with⯑out condemning the things themſelves. But if my lord will needs invade my inward man, and break violently into my heart, I fear then, indeed, I may diſpleaſe my lord of London. Finally; as you ſay, the matter is weighty, even as weighty as my life is worth, and ought to be well looked to; how to look well to it I know not, otherwiſe than to pray to my Lord God night and day, that as he hath boldened me to preach his truth, ſo he will ſtrengthen me to ſuffer for it. And I truſt that God will [52]help me; which truſt, if I had not, the ocean ſea ſhould have divided my lord of London and me by this time."

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

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

"I believe, that there is a purgatory to purge the ſouls of the dead after this life—that the ſouls in purgatory are holpen with the maſſes, prayers, and alms of the living—that the ſaints do pray as mediators for us in heaven — that it is profitable for chriſtians to call upon the ſaints, that they may pray as me⯑diators for as unto God — that pilgrimages and oblations done to the ſepulchres and re⯑liques [53]of ſaints, are meritorious — that they which have vowed perpetual chaſtity, may not break their vow, without the diſpenſation of the pope — that the keys of binding and looſing delivered to Peter, do ſtill remain with the biſhops of Rome his ſucceſſors, although they live wickedly; and are by no means; nor at any time committed to laymen — that men may merit at God's hand by faſting, prayer, and other works or piety — that they which are forbidden of the biſhop to preach, as ſuſpected perſons, ought to ceaſe until they have purged themſelves before the ſaid biſhop —that the faſt which is uſed in Lent, and other faſts preſcribed by the canons are to be obſerved —that God, in every one of the ſeven ſacra⯑ments, giveth grace to a man rightly receiving the ſame—that conſecrations, ſanctifyings, and bleſſings, by cuſtom received into the church, are profitable—that it is laudable and profit⯑able that the venerable images of the crucifix, and other ſaints, ſhould be had in the church as a remembrance, and to the honour and worſhip of Jeſus Chriſt, and his ſaints—that it is laudable and profitable to deck and clothe thoſe images, and to ſet up burning lights be⯑fore them, to the honour of the ſaid ſaints."

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

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

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

"I was brought one, ſays he, to be examined in a chamber, where I was wont to be examin⯑ed; but at this time it was ſomewhat altered. For whereas before there wae a fire in the chimney now the five was taken away, and an arras hanged over the chimney; and the table ſtood near the chimney's end. There was among theſe biſhops that examined me, one with whom I have been very familiar, and [55]whom I took for my great friend, an aged man, and he ſat next the table-end. Then among other queſtons he put forth one, a very ſubtil and crafty one; and when I ſhould make an⯑ſwer," "I pray you, Mr. Latimer, ſaid he, ſpeak out, I am very thick of hearing, and here be many that ſit far off." "I marvelled at this, that I was bidden to ſpeak out, and began to miſdeem and gave an ear to the chimney; and there I heard a pen plainly ſcratching behind the cloth. They had ap⯑pointed one there to write all my anſwers, that I ſhould not ſtart from them. God was my good Lord, and gave me anſwers, I could never elſe have eſcaped them."

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

And indeed, at length, he was tired out. His ſpirit could no longer bear the uſage he met with. Accordingly, when he was next ſummoned, inſtead of going himſelf, he ſent a letter to the archbiſhop, in which, with great freedom, he tells him, "That the treat⯑ment he had of late met with, had fretted [56]him into ſuch a diſorder, as rendered him unfit to attend them that day — that in the mean time, he could not help taking this op⯑portunity to expoſtulate with his grace, for detaining him ſo long from the diſcharge of his duty—that it ſeemed to him moſt unac⯑countable, that they, who never preached themſelves, ſhould hinder others—that as for their examination of him, he really could not imagine what they aimed at; they pretended one thing in the beginning, and another in the progreſs—that if his ſermons were what gave offence, which he perſuaded himſelf were neither contrary to the truth, nor to any canon of the church, he was ready to anſwer what⯑ever might be thought exceptionable in them—that he wiſhed a little more regard might be had to the judgment of the people; and that a diſtinction might be made between the ordinances of God and man — that if ſome abuſes in religion did prevail (as was then commonly ſuppoſed) he thought preach⯑ing was the beſt means to diſcountenance them—that he wiſhed all paſtors might be obliged to perform their duty; but that, however, li⯑berty might be given to thoſe who were wil⯑ling—that as for the articles propoſed to him, [57]he begged to be excuſed from ſubſcribing them; while he lived he never would abet ſuperſtition—and that, laſtly, he hoped the archbiſhop would excuſe what he had writ⯑ten—he knew his duty to his ſuperiors, and would practiſe it; but in that caſe, he thought a ſtronger obligation laid upon him."

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

The unfortunate Ann Boleyn was at that time the favourite wife of Henry. She had imbibed from her youth the principles of the reformation, and continued ſtill in⯑clined to it. Whether ſhe had been acquaint⯑ed with Mr. Latimer before ſhe met with [58]him now at court, does not appear: ſhe was extremely taken however with his ſim⯑plicity, and apoſtolic appearance; and men⯑tioned him to her friends as a perſon, in her opinion, as well qualified as any ſhe had ſeen to forward the reformation. One of her friends, and as much her favourite as any, was the lord Cromwell, who failed not, with his uſual addreſs, to raiſe Mr. Latimer ſtill higher in her eſteem. In ſhort, the queen and the miniſter agreed in thinking, that he was a man endowed with too many public virtues to be ſuffered to live obſcure in a pri⯑vate ſtation; and joined in an earneſt recom⯑mendation of him to the king for a biſhopric. Such ſuiters would have carried an harder point: nor indeed did the king want much ſolicitation in his favour.

It happened that the ſees of Worceſter and Saliſbury were at that time vacant by the deprivation of Ghinuccii, and Campegio, two Italian biſhops, who fell under the king's diſ⯑pleaſure upon his rupture with Rome. The former of theſe was offered to Mr. Latimer. As he had been at no pains to procure this promotion, he looked upon it as the work of providence, and accepted it without much [59]perſuaſion. Indeed he had met with ſo very rough a check already as a private clergy⯑man, and ſaw before him ſo hazardous a proſpect in his old ſtation, that he thought it neceſſary both for his own ſafety, and for the ſake of being of more ſervice in the world, to ſhroud himſelf under a little temporal power.

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

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

SECTION V.

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

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

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

Theſe oppoſite hopes animated two power⯑ful parties; and indeed it is hard to ſay, whether the papiſts or the proteſtants, during this reign, had the greater influence. Henry was governed intirely by his paſſions; and to theſe ſometimes one miniſter, and ſome⯑times [62]another made the moſt dextrous ad⯑dreſs.

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

Next to him in power, was Cranmer arch⯑biſhop of Canterbury; to which dignity he had been promoted upon the death of War⯑ham, for his ſervices in the matter of the divorce. He was a ſincere promoter of re⯑formation, and had abilities admirably adapt⯑ed to ſuch a work. He was a calm, diſpaſ⯑ſionate man; had a ſound judgment, and a very extenſive knowledge: but he had con⯑verſed little in the world; was very open to the attacks of malice and knavery, and was unacquainted with any methods but thoſe of gentleneſs and perſuaſion, which indeed went a conſiderable way to promote his ends.

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

On the other hand, the popiſh party was headed by Lee, archbiſhop of York, Gar⯑diner, [63]Stokeſly, and Tunſtal, biſhops of Win⯑cheſter, London, and Durham.

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

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

"We are met together, it ſeems, here, brethren, to conſult the ſettlement of religion. [64]A very important truſt is committed to us; and I hope each of us hath brought with him a reſolution to diſcharge it properly. And, indeed, great need is there that ſome⯑thing ſhould be done. Superſtition hath had a long reign amongſt us; nor can I yet be⯑lieve its tyranny at an end, while I ſee our clergy ſtill immerſed in the corruptions of their fore-fathers; while I ſee even mitred advocates, it becomes me to ſpeak plainly, ſtill eſpouſing this cauſe. What an inunda⯑tion of folly, to give it the lighteſt appella⯑tion, is daily flowing from our pulpits? Is there an abſurdity in the whole popiſh creed, is there a corruption in their whole ritual, which is not countenanced, even at this very day amongſt us? Purgatory is ſtill believed; images are ſtill worſhipped. And what is moſt grievous, when external obſervances abound, men begin to lay a ſtreſs upon them; and of courſe the neceſſity of a good life is ſuperceded.—Rouze yourſelves, my bre⯑thren, rouze yourſelves at theſe things. Con⯑ſider that an amendment of all theſe evils is looked for at our hands. If the prieſt is re⯑miſs, what can be expected from the peo⯑ple? Imagine you hear, at the laſt day, the almighty Judge thus rebuking us. "A cry [65]againſt you cometh up into my ears; a cry againſt your avarice, your exactions, your tyranny. I commanded you with induſtry and pains-taking to feed my ſheep: inſtead of which you do nothing but gluttonize from day to day, wallowing in indolence and pleaſure. I commanded you to preach my commandments, and ſeek my glory: inſtead of which, you preach your own phantaſies, and ſeek your own profit. I commanded that all people ſhould diligently ſearch my word: inſtead of which, it is your care to ſhut up the books of knowledge—Too much reaſon have you to fear, that reading the people may underſtand, and underſtand⯑ing they may learn to rebuke your ſloth⯑fulneſs.

Since then, my brethren, the corruptions of the clergy are ſo manifeſt: and ſince ſo ſtrict an account will be demanded of our conduct, let us at this time do ſomething to ſhew that we have the intereſt of religion at heart. Let us do ſomething to wipe off prejudices, which I know have been con⯑ceived againſt ſome of us without-doors. And as our ſtations in life add a dignity to our characters, ſo let them inſpire us with [66]holineſs, and a zeal for the ſalvation of ſouls, in which alone conſiſts the real dignity of a chriſtian biſhop. All men know that we are here aſſembled, and with ardent looks expect the fruit of our conſultation: Oh! my bre⯑thren, let us not diſappoint their hopes.

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

What think you, my brethren, of the ce⯑remonies of the church? Are they ſimple and ſignificant? Or are they rather calcu⯑lated to offend weak conſciences, and to en⯑courage ſuperſtition among the vulgar?

Do you ſee nothing amiſs in that multipli⯑city of holidays, with which our calendar abounds? Is true religion, think you, more [67]promoted by them; or idleneſs and debau⯑chery?

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

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

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

Conſider theſe things, I beg of you, my lords, and if there be nothing to be correct⯑ed abroad, let each of us make one better. If there be nothing either abroad or at home that wants amendment, be chearful, my lords, and merry; and as we have nothing elſe to do, let us at leaſt reaſon the matter how we may grow richer: let us fall to ſome pleaſant converſation, and then go home with a full reſolution to live merrily here, for we have nothing to expect hereafter. Let us not ſay [68]with St. Peter, "Our end approacheth:" this is a melancholy note. But let us ſay with the evil ſervant, "My Lord delayeth his coming; and let us begin to beat our fellows, and eat and drink with the drunken." And what can be interpreted beating our fellows, if not allow⯑ing their corruptions? What can be interpret⯑ed eating and drinking with the drunken, if not ſpending our lives in indolence and plea⯑ſure? But God will come on a day, when we look not for him; and in an hour, when we are not aware. He will call us to a ſevere account, and all our worldly policy will end in deſpair.

Let us then, my brethren, in time be wiſe: let us be wiſe, if not for others, at leaſt for ourſelves. Let us wean our hearts from worldly things. Let us diveſt ourſelves of each ſelf-intereſted thought; and let every man in this aſſembly reſolve to aim at no⯑thing in his counſels, but the glory of God, and the happineſs of man."

With ſuch language did the good biſhop endeavour to work upon the aſſembly. But his ſpeech rather ſhewed the goodneſs of his own heart, than wrought any change in the counſels of his audience. For eloquence hath [69]ſeldom influence but in queſtions of ſudden determination.

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

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

[70]Among other foreign proteſtants who were at this time entertained by the archbiſhop of Canterbury, there was a very ingenious Scotſman, whoſe name was Aleſſe; a perſon, who had made himſelf very acceptable to the archbiſhop by his learning, and ſolid judgment; and who was at all times, with⯑out any reſerve, conſulted by the heads of the proteſtant party.

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

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

But as the biſhop of Worceſter did not di⯑ſtinguiſh himſelf in the debates of this con⯑vocation, [71]for debating was not his talent, it is beſide my purpoſe to enter into a detail of the ſeveral tranſactions of it. I ſhall only add, that an animated attempt was at this time made to get him and Cranmer ſtigma⯑tized by ſome public cenſure: but through their own and Cromwell's intereſt, they were too well eſtabliſhed to fear any open attack from their enemies.

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

When it was imagined, that theſe altera⯑tions were tolerably digeſted, others, and theſe ſtill more ſubverſive of popery, were, the ſame year, publiſhed in the king's name; the firſt act of pure ſupremacy, which this prince attempted. The articles, which con⯑tained theſe alterations, were drawn up, as is generally ſuppoſed, by the archbiſhop of [72]Canterbury; and if ſo, it is more than pro⯑bable, that biſhop Latimer had a hand in them. They were levelled chiefly againſt relics, images, pilgrimages, and ſuperfluous holy-days.

In a few months after this, a ſtill more conſiderable advance was made. The Bible was tranſlated into Engliſh, and recommend⯑ed to a general peruſal: the people were or⯑dered to be inſtructed in the principles of re⯑ligion in their mother-tongue; and the in⯑vocation of ſaints was left as a thing in⯑different.

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

As for the papiſts, they gave up every thing for loſt. They had made their laſt effort by exciting the people to rebellion: exclaiming loudly againſt the diſſolution of monaſteries; which was indeed the moſt unpopular act of thoſe times. But the flames which they had blown up, were now every where dying [73]away; the country enriched with the ſpoils of the prieſts, grew plentiful and ſatisfied; and men began to view the venerable ruins of an abbey, only as they contributed to enliven a landſcape.

In the mean while the biſhop of Wor⯑ceſter, highly ſatisfied with the proſpect of the times, repaired to his dioceſe; having made no longer ſtay in London than was ab⯑ſolutely neceſſary. He had no talents, and he knew that he had none, for ſtate-affairs; and therefore he meddled not with them. The ſettlement of religion could not, he aſ⯑ſured himſelf, be in abler hands, than in thoſe of the lord Cromwell: and while it was ſo, he wiſely judged it would be thought pre⯑ſumption in him, who could not be ſuppoſed to know what men and times would bear, to concern himſelf with it. His talents were thoſe of a private ſtation; and within that he was determined to confine them. If he be⯑haved in his dioceſe like a true chriſtian biſhop, and did all in his power to root out ſuperſtition, and encourage the practice of piety and virtue, he was ſatisfied in his con⯑ſcience, that he did all towards the ſettle⯑ment [74]of religion that could be expected from him. I make theſe remarks the rather, be⯑cauſe biſhop Burnet ſpeaks in a very ſlight manner of his public character at this time; whereas it is certain, that he never deſired to appear in any public character at all. His whole ambition was, to diſcharge the paſtoral functions of a biſhop, neither aiming to diſ⯑play the abilities of the ſtateſman, nor thoſe of the courtier. How very unqualified he was to ſupport the latter of theſe characters, will ſufficiently appear from the following ſtory.

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

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

A gentleman of Warwickſhire, in a pur⯑chaſe, had done ſome hard things to a poor man in his neighbourhood: yet he had kept within the limits of the law; taking the ad⯑vantage of ſome unguarded expreſſion in a ſtatute; having a brother, a juſtice of peace, and enough acquainted with the law to do miſchief, who had negotiated the affair for him. As theſe two brothers were men of great fortune in the country, and over-awed the neighbouring gentlemen, the poor man had nothing to do, but to ſit quietly under his oppreſſion. But while he was reconciling himſelf to what had happened, ſome of his friends put him upon applying, in the way of a complaint, to the biſhop of Worceſter; whoſe character, as the common patron of the poor and oppreſſed, was every where much ſpoken of. The poor man approved the advice, and taking a journey to the biſhop, acquainted him with the whole affair. The [76]biſhop heard his ſtory, pitied his caſe, and ſent him home, with a promiſe of his pro⯑tection. Accordingly, he ſoon after wrote to the juſtice, who had been the chief agent in the affair, and endeavoured by proper argu⯑ments to raiſe in him a ſenſe of the injury he had been guilty of: ſpeaking his mind very freely both of him, and his brother, yet treating them at the ſame time with proper civility. The two gentlemen were greatly in⯑cenſed at this letter; and anſwered it in the ſpirit of detected guilt: "They had done only what was right, and would abide by it: that as for the ſufferer, the law was open; and as for him, they could not but think he interfered very impertinently in an affair, which did not concern him." But in the biſhop of Worceſter they had not to do with a perſon, who was eaſily ſhaken from an ho⯑neſt purpoſe. He acquainted them in few words, "That if the cauſe of his complaint was not forthwith removed, he certainly would himſelf lay the whole affair before the king." And he had been, without doubt, as good as his word; but his adverſaries did not care to put him to a trial.

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

SECTION VI.

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

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

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

With this view, therefore, he took frequent occaſions to alarm the king with apprehen⯑ſions of foreign and domeſtic danger. He would dwell upon the intrigues of the court of Rome, the power of the Emperor, the watchfulneſs of the Scots to take every ad⯑vantage; and above all, the ſeditious ſpirit of his own ſubjects. He would then inſinuate, that ſomething ſhould be done in oppoſition to theſe threathing dangers: and that, for his part, he knew nothing that could be more effectual, than for his majeſty to ſhew a zeal for the old religion. That, as for his throwing off the papal yoke, he ſaid, it was a noble effort of his magnanimity; and was eſteemed ſuch by all ſober men, for the ty⯑ranny of the court of Rome was become in⯑tolerable. The ſuppreſſion of monaſteries was [80]likewiſe, in his opinion, wholly juſtifiable; and his majeſty well knew, that none of his counſellors had been more ſanguine in that affair, than himſelf: but then he thought it was the part of wiſdom to conſider theſe things only in a political light; and for him⯑ſelf, he could not but greatly apprehend the bad conſequences of making any alterations in the eſtabliſhed religion. At leaſt, he would adviſe his majeſty to ſtop where he was, and by ſome vigorous act to ſhew the world, that he was not that patron of novel opinions, which he was generally eſteemed. By this means, he would make thoſe only his ene⯑mies, who were blind devotees to the papal power; and theſe were not one fourth part of Chriſtendom.

By ſuch infuſions as theſe, which he knew very well how to dreſs into the form of argu⯑ments, and could render plauſible by an art⯑ful diſplay of the ſituation of Europe, and by ſhewing how the intereſts of courts and factions coincided intirely with his ſchemes, the wily prelate ſo wrought upon the fears, the ambition, or vanity of the king, for he could ſhew his argument in all lights, that by degrees he drew attention, and at length [81]made ſuch an impreſſion, as he thought would ſerve his purpoſe. Having gone thus far, he next began to propoſe expedients; and as the king was about to call a parliament at this time, to confirm and finiſh what he had done with relation to monaſteries, he perſuaded him to take this opportunity of doing ſome⯑thing in the buſineſs he had counſelled. In the mean time, nothing of theſe deſigns tran⯑ſpired; at leaſt, ſo little, that the oppoſite party could make no uſe of their intelligence; for of all the wicked miniſters that have in⯑feſted the councils of princes, perhaps none was ever more deep and ſecret, than the biſhop of Wincheſter.—This was the ſtate of affairs, when the biſhop of Worceſter was called up to London, to attend the buſineſs of parlia⯑ment.

Soon after his arrival in town, he was ac⯑cuſed before the king of preaching a ſeditious ſermon. The ſermon was preached at court; and the preacher, according to his cuſtom, had been unqueſtionably ſevere enough againſt whatever he obſerved amiſs. His accuſer, who is ſaid to have been a perſon of great eminence about the king, was moſt probably the biſhop of Wincheſter: for this prelate [82]was known to make uſe of what arts he could to remove all thoſe from the national councils of thoſe times who were moſt likely to thwart his meaſures. The king had called together ſeveral of the biſhops with a view to conſult them upon ſome points of religion. When they had all given their opinions, and were about to be diſmiſſed, the biſhop of Win⯑cheſter, if it was he, kneeled down before the king, and accuſed the biſhop of Worceſter in the above-mentioned manner, ſhewing how his ſermon, which he called a libel againſt the king and his miniſters, tended to alienate the people from their prince. The biſhop being called upon by the king, with ſome ſternneſs, to vindicate himſelf, was ſo far from denying, or even palliating what he had ſaid, that he boldly juſtified it; and turning to the king with that noble unconcern which a good con⯑ſcience inſpires, made this anſwer, "I never thought myſelf worthy, nor I never ſued to be a preacher before your grace; but I was called to it, and would be willing, if you miſlike me, to give place to my betters: for I grant there be a great many more worthy of the room than I am. And if it be your grace's pleaſure to allow them for preachers, I could be con⯑tent [83]to bear their books after them. But if your grace allow me for a preacher, I would deſire you to give me leave to diſcharge my conſcience, and to frame my doctrine accord⯑ing to my audience. I had been a very dolt indeed, to have preached ſo at the borders of your realm, as I preach before your grace." The greatneſs of this anſwer baf⯑fled his accuſers malice; the ſeverity of the king's countenance changed into a gracious ſmile; and the biſhop was diſmiſſed with that obliging freedom, which this monarch never uſed, but to thoſe whom he eſteemed.

The parliament, which had been ſummon⯑ed to meet on the 28th of april, having now ſat a week, and being ready to enter upon bu⯑ſineſs the lord chancellor, on the 5th of may, informed the lords from the king, that "his majeſty had, with extreme uneaſineſs, ob⯑ſerved the diſtracted condition of his ſubjects with regard to religion; that he had nothing ſo much at heart, as to eſtabliſh an uniformity of opinion amongſt them; and that he there⯑fore deſired the lords would immediately ap⯑point a committee to examine the ſeveral opi⯑nions that prevailed, and to fix upon certain articles for a general agreement." It was the [84]manner, it ſeems, of thoſe times, to uſe no ceremony in fixing a ſtandard for men to think by; and to vary that ſtandard with as little ceremony, as new modes of thinking prevailed. The parliament, therefore, with⯑out any difficulty, complied; and named for a committee, the lord Cromwell, the two archbiſhops, and the biſhops of Worceſter, Ely, Durham, Bath and Wells, Carliſle, and Bangor.

Men of ſo oppoſite a way of thinking, were not likely to agree. After eleven days there⯑fore ſpent, in warm debates, nothing was con⯑cluded. This was no more than was expect⯑ed, and made room for the farce which fol⯑lowed.

On the twelfth day, the duke of Norfolk, according to the plan, which had been with⯑out doubt laid down, acquainted the lords, that "he found the committee had yet done nothing; that eleven days had been already ſpent in wrangling, and that he ſaw no poſſi⯑bility of coming to an agreement in that way. He begged leave, therefore, to offer to their lordſhips conſideration, ſome articles which he himſelf had drawm up, and which he deſired might be examined by a committee of the [85]whole houſe." He then read the articles, which were theſe.

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

2. That vows of chaſtity ought to be ob⯑ſerved.

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

4. That communion in both kinds was not neceſſary.

5. That prieſts might not marry.

6. That auricular confeſſion ſhould be re⯑tained in the church.

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

The proteſtant party began now plainly enough to ſee a concerted ſcheme; and could trace it, without much difficulty, to its ſource. They reſolved, however to collect what ſtrength they were able, and at leaſt, to make [86]one ſtruggle. Each of them, therefore, did the utmoſt he could. But the noble ſtand made by the archbiſhop of Canterbury de⯑ſerves particularly to be remembered. This prelate diſputed, in the military phraſe, every inch of ground; and with ſuch force of rea⯑ſon, that if reaſon had been his adverſaries weapon too, he had carried his point.

Againſt the firſt article, indeed, he ſaid no⯑thing; for at that time he held all the opinions of the Lutherans; among which, tranſubſtan⯑tiation was one. But againſt the ſecond, he was extremely earneſt. It was very hard, he ſaid, to force religious men from their houſes, and not allow them that common intercourſe with the world, which the reſt of his majeſty's ſub⯑jects enjoyed: that the parliament had already abſolved them from their vow of poverty; and he could ſee no reaſon why they ſhould be abſolved from one vow more than another: beſides, he added, that, in his opinion, ſuch a treatment of them was very impolitic; for while they continued in a ſtate of coelibacy, they were ſtill in a capacity, if a fair occaſion ſhould offer, to re-enter their monaſteries.

Againſt the third article, which enjoined the uſe of private maſſes, he ſaid it was a plain [87]condemnation of the king's proceedings againſt religious houſes: for if maſſes did benefit de⯑parted ſouls, it was ſurely an unjuſtifiable ſtep to deſtroy ſo many noble foundations, which were dedicated to that only purpoſe."

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

The act of the ſix articles, (for ſo it was named) was no ſooner publiſhed, than it gave an univerſal alarm to all the favourers of refor⯑mation. The proteſtants every where cried out, "their proſpect of happineſs was now over; they could not now expect a toleration: for they plainly ſaw, that a ſword was put into the hands of their enemies to deſtroy them:" while both papiſts and proteſtants joined in exclaiming, that, "it was difficult to ſay what the king intended: for it was neither ſafe to [88]be of one profeſſion nor the other: the act of ſupremacy condemned the papiſt, and the act of the ſix articles, the proteſtant."

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

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

In the mean time, vigilant emiſſaries were ſent abroad; articles of accuſation were ga⯑thered up from all parts; and in London only, more than 500 perſons, in a very ſhort time, were impriſoned. Cromwell and Cranmer ſaw with concern the miſery of the times, but could not prevent it: they ſtood alone, and were beſides enough engaged in ſtemming a [89]torrent, which ran ſtrong againſt themſelves. Cromwell, was almoſt borne down, though his enemies carried on their deſigns with great ſecreſy. As for Cranmer, more than one open attempt had been made againſt him; but his ſovereign's favour ſheltered him: and, indeed, king Henry's care for this excellent prelate, to the end of his reign, is almoſt the only ſtriking inſtance we have, either of his ſteadineſs, or his good-nature.

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

Here he found the proſpect ſtill more glopmy: the popiſh party had now triumph⯑ed [90]over all their obſtacles; and he had the mortification to ſee his great patron, the lord Cromwell, in the hands of his enemies.

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

Other cauſes, no doubt, conſpired in the ruin of this great patriot; and hiſtorians gueſs at many: but the truth is, this affair, as well [91]as many others, which were directed by the dark counſels of the biſhop of Wincheſter, are ſtill involved in the ſame obſcurity. It is cer⯑tain, however, that without even the form of a judicial trial, he was condemned to loſe his head.

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

Upon Cromwell's fall, the perſecution a⯑gainſt the proteſtants broke out in earneſt. The duke of Norfolk, and the biſhop of Wincheſter, who were the principal inſtru⯑ments in the rain of the late miniſter, were now at the head of the popiſh party: and the authority of the former giving credit to the crafty counſels of the latter, together they had [92]the management of all things in their hands. Under the direction of theſe zealots, the ſword was preſently unſheathed; and ſuch a ſcene of blood was opened, as England had not yet ſeen.

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

SECTION VII.

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

As for the young king, he is extolled in hiſtory as a miracle of human nature. But though we make allowances for the exagge⯑rated accounts of proteſtant writers, whoſe gratitude may be ſuppoſed to have broken out [94]into high ſtrains of encomium, ſuch an aſſem⯑blage of great and good qualities, will ſtill be left him, as have ſeldom diſcovered them⯑ſelves in ſo young a perſon, and much ſel⯑domer in one, ſubject to the temptations of royalty. Among his other virtues, piety was conſpicuous. With him the ſettlement of religion was an end; with his father it had been a mean. And as he had been bred up from his infancy, either among moderate men, or profeſſed proteſtants, he had imbibed early prejudices in favour of the reformed doctrines. The protector, therefore, found no obſtacle in his deſigns from the young king.

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

On the other hand, Gardiner, Tunſtal, and Bonner, who was now biſhop of London, ſet themſelves at the head of the popiſh party, and oppoſed the protector as much as they durſt: not indeed openly and directly; for they preſently obſerved the turning of the wind, and had ſhifted their ſails with great nimbleneſs; but thwarting the means rather [95]than the meaſures, they oppoſed him, with that plauſible diſſimulation, which men, dex⯑trous in buſineſs, can eaſily aſſume. Their common language was, that, "however ne⯑ceſſary theſe alterations were, they were cer⯑tainly at this time highly improper — that a minority was not a ſeaſon for innovations—that it was enough to keep things quiet, till the king came of age, and that abuſes might then be inquired into, and remedies applied, with all that authority, which the full regal power could give."

Their oppoſition, however, had little effect; and many changes in religion were projected, and ſome carried into execution, with as much diſpatch as affairs of ſuch importance would admit. The act of the ſix articles was repeal⯑ed, images were removed out of churches; the liturgy was amended; and all miniſters were confined to their pariſh-churches. This laſt was an excellent means to prevent the ſpread⯑ing both of popery and ſedition: while ſpe⯑cial licences were granted to approved men to preach where they pleaſed. And what recom⯑mended theſe changes to ſober men of all di⯑ſtinctions, was, the great moderation, and ſpirit of candour which accompanied them through⯑out. [96]Two acts of blood indeed ſtand upon record: almoſt ſhameful and indelible ſtain upon the annals of that adminiſtration!

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

Heath, who had ſucceeded him in the biſhopric of Worceſter, obſerving his credit at court, and fearing leſt it ſhould be thought proper to re-inſtate him, was in a great di⯑lemma, how to conduct himſelf. As he was a man of no principle, he had only to obſerve the temper of the times, and to manage ac⯑cordingly. But unhappily he was as bad a courtier as a biſhop. Making falſe judgments therefore, and being drawn in by artful men, he applied to the papiſts, inſtead of the pro⯑teſtants. His party, and his folly, for he was in every reſpect an inſignificant man, laid him ſo exceedingly open, that Mr. Latimer would [97]have found no difficulty in diſpoſſeſſing him. But he had other ſentiments: age coming upon him, he thought himſelf now unequal to the weight of a biſhopric, and had no in⯑clination to incumber himſelf with one. Perhaps too, he might think there was ſome⯑thing of hardſhip and injuſtice in the caſe. Whatever were his reaſons, it is certain he would make no ſuit himſelf, nor ſuffer his friends to make any, for his reſtoration.

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

The report of the parliament's interpoſition reaching Heath's ears, terrified him to ſuch a degree, that, taking it for granted his popery had been complained of, be immediately de⯑ſerted his party, and became an orthodox pro⯑teſtant. [98]And thus ſhewing a conſcientious regard for neither, he became contemptible to both parties.

Mr. Latimer having rid himſelf intirely of all intreaty on this head, accepted an invita⯑tion from his friend archbiſhop Cranmer, and took up his reſidence at Lambeth; where he led a very retired life. I call it retired, be⯑cauſe he ſaw little company, and never in⯑terfered in public affairs: though he had always as crouded a levee as a miniſter of ſtate. His chief employment was to hear the complaints, and to redreſs the injuries of poor people: and his character, for ſervices of this kind, was ſo univerſally known, that ſtrangers, from every part of England, would reſort to him, vexed either by the delays of public courts and offices, which were ſurely at that time exceedingly out of order; or haraſſed by the oppreſſions of the great. "I cannot go to my book, (ſays he, giving an account of theſe avocations) for poor folks that come unto me, deſiring that I will ſpeak, that their matters may be heard. Now and then I walk in my lord of Canterbury's garden, looking in my book: but I can do but little good at it; for I am no ſooner in the garden, and have [99]read a little while, but by and by cometh ſome one or other knocking at the gate. Anon, cometh my man, and ſaith, Sir, there is one at the gate would ſpeak with you. When I come there, then it is ſome one or other that deſireth me that I will ſpeak, that his matter may be heard; or that telleth me he hath lain this long time at great coſts and charges, or that he cannot once have his matter come to an hearing."

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

In theſe employments he ſpent more than two years; interfering as little as poſſible, dur⯑ing that whole time, in any public tranſaction: though no doubt, if he had pleaſed, he might have had great weight, at leaſt in eccleſiaſtical affairs. But beſides the diſtruſt he had of his own judgment, he was a man of ſuch exact⯑neſs in his principles and practice, that he could ſcarce have made thoſe allowances for men [100]and meaſures, which prudent counſellors muſt make in corrupt times; and was backward therefore in drawing upon himſelf ſuch en⯑gagements, as might lead him, more or leſs, in⯑to a deviation from truth. I find him, how⯑ever, at this time engaged in aſſiſting arch⯑biſhop Cranmer to compoſe the homilies, which were ſet forth by authority, in the firſt year of king Edward. A uſeful work this was; intended to ſupply the want of preach⯑ing, which was now at a very low ebb.

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

This univerſal corruption in the prieſthood, was a melancholy proſpect to all, who wiſhed well to reformation: and it was the more [101]melancholy, as it was an evil which could not in many years admit a cure. What ſeemed beſt, however, was to keep the clergy, as much as poſſible, out of the pulpits; and to this end the book of homilies was compoſed, and put into the hands of all miniſters of pariſhes, who were injoined by authority to read one every ſunday, inſtead of preaching. In theſe homilies, the people were ſhewn the inſig⯑nificance of outward obſervances, and were taught to believe that their ſalvation depend⯑ed upon themſelves.

SECTION VIII.

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

The court of king Edward VI, and indeed the whole frame of his government, was in as great diſorder as almoſt any court or any go⯑vernment could be, in the worſt of times. The example of the young king was noble and inſtructive, and would by degrees, no doubt, have had its influence; but as he was now only a boy, and in the hands of others, he had little weight. Nor was the protector a man qualified to curb licentious ſpirits. He [103]was of an eaſy nature, and though he wiſhed to ſee things in order, yet he could contribute little more than a good example to keep them ſo. As the principal ſprings were thus weak, it is no wonder if the inferior movements were irregular. A minority was thought the ſeaſon for every one to make his claim; and ſuch claims were made by all who had any pretenſions to court-favours, as equally ſur⯑priſed and ſcandalized all ſober obſervers. The ſpoils of an hundred and ſixty monaſte⯑ries, inſtead of ſatisfying, had increaſed the avarice of the courtiers. Having already pruned away all the ſuperfluous parts, and much ſuperfluity there was, from the re⯑venues of the church, they began now to lop off thoſe vital branches, which were ne⯑ceſſary for its ſupport. Inſomuch, that there was ſcarce a benefice in the nation of any con⯑ſiderable value, on which ſome greedy courtier was not penſioned. To this inſatiable avarice was added a licentiouſneſs of manners, be⯑yond the example of former times.

A court thus corrupt, produced its neceſſa⯑ry conſequence, corruption in every order of the ſtate. Never was juſtice worſe admini⯑ſtered: never were the diſpenſers of it more [104]venal. The public offices too were equally corrupt, eſpecially thoſe of the revenue, where moſt ſcandalous depredations were made. Nor did the country retain its innocence. Here the gentry practiſed thoſe arts of avarice and rapine which they had learned at court, and taught the people all thoſe vices, to which indigence gives birth, While the clergy, in⯑ſtead of qualifying in ſome degree this cor⯑rupt maſs, by a mixture of piety and devo⯑tion, incorporated with it, and even increaſed its malignity by an addition of as bad, if not of worſe ingredients.

This was the ſtate of practical religion in the nation, when Mr. Latimer was called to the office of a court-preacher. As to his ſer⯑mons, which are ſtill extant, they are far from being exact pieces of compoſition. Elegant writing was then little known. Some polite ſcholars there were, Cheek, Aſcham, and a few others, who, from an acquaintance with claſſical learning, of which they were the re⯑ſtorers, began to think in a new manner, and could treat a ſubject with accuracy at leaſt, if not with elegance. But in general, the writers of that age, and eſpecially the church-men, were equally incorrect in their compoſition, and ſlovenly in their language. We muſt not, [105]therefore, expect that Mr. Latimer's diſcourſes will ſtand a critical inquiry: they are at beſt looſe, incoherent pieces: yet his ſimplici⯑ty, and low familiarity, his humour, and gibing drollery, were well adapted to the times; and his oratory, according to the mode of elo⯑quence at that day, was exceeding popular. His manner of preaching too was very affect⯑ing: and no wonder; for he ſpoke imme⯑diately from his heart.

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

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

In his firſt ſermon, which is addreſſed chiefly to the king, he opens his commiſſion: "The preacher, ſays he, cannot correct the king, if [106]he be a tranſgreſſor, with the temporal ſword, but with the ſpiritual; fearing no man, ſet⯑ting God only before his eyes, under whom he is a miniſter to root up vice. Let the preacher therefore, never fear to declare the meſſage of God. And if the king will not hear, then let the preacher admoniſh him, pray for him, and ſo leave him unto God." He then pro⯑ceeds to point out to the king his duty, in ſe⯑veral inſtances.

In his ſecond ſermon, he laſhes the clergy. "It is a marvel, ſays he, if any miſchief be in hand, if a prieſt be not at one end of it. — I will be a ſuitor to your grace, to give your biſhops charge ere they go home, upon their allegiance to look better to their flock. And if they be found negligent, out with them: I require it in God's behalf, make them quon⯑dams, all the pack of them; your majeſty hath divers of your chaplains, well learned men, and of good knowledge, to put in their place: and yet you have ſome that are bad enough, hangers on of the court, I mean not theſe. But if your majeſty's chaplains, and my lord protector's, be not able to furniſh their places, there is in this realm, thanks be to God, a great ſight of laymen, well-learned in the [107]ſcriptures, and of a virtuous and godly con⯑verſtion, better learned than a great ſight of us the clergy. This I move of conſcience to your grace. And let them not only do the function of biſhops, but live of the ſame: and not, as in many places, that one ſhould have the name, and another the profit. What an enormity is this, for a man to ſerve in a civility, and have the profit of a provoſtſhip, and a deanery, and a parſonage. But I will tell you what is like to come of it: it will bring the clergy ſhortly into very ſlavery.—But I fear one thing, that for ſaving a little money, you will put chantry-prieſts into be⯑nefices. Chriſt bought ſouls with his blood; and will you ſell them for gold arid ſilver? I would not have you do with chantry-prieſts, as was done with abbots. For when their enormities were firſt read in the parliament, they were ſo abominable, that there was no⯑thing but, Down with them: but within a while after, the ſame abbots were made biſhops, as there be ſome of them yet alive, to ſave their penſions. O Lord! think you that God is a fool, and ſeeth it not?"

Afterwards, warning the king againſt flat⯑terers, he tells him that God ſays, If the king [108]ſhall do his will, he ſhall reign long, he and his children. "Wherefore, ſays he, I would have your grace remember this, and when any of theſe flatterers, and flibber-gibbers another day ſhall come, and claw you by the back, and ſay, Sir, trouble not yourſelf: what ſhould you ſtudy for? why ſhould you do this or that? your grace may anſwer them thus, What, ſirrah? I perceive you are weary of us. Doth not God ſay in ſuch a place, that a king ſhould fear God, that he may reign long? I perceive now, that thou art a traytor. Tell him this tale once, and I warrant you he will come no more to you."

He then ſpeaks of the delay of juſtice, and the abuſes in the law. "I hear of many mat⯑ters, ſays he, before my lord protector, and my lord chancellor, that cannot be heard. I muſt deſire my lord protector's grace to hear me in this matter; and that your grace would likewiſe hear poor mens ſuits yourſelf. Put them to none other to be heard: let them not be delayed. The ſaying is now, that money is heard every where: if a man be rich, he ſhall ſoon have an end of his matter. Others are fain to go home with tears, for any help they can obtain at any judge's hand. Hear mens ſuits [109]yourſelf, I require you, in God's behalf; and put them not to the hearing of theſe velvet-coats, and upſkips. Now a man can ſcarce know them from ancient knights of the coun⯑try.—A gentlewoman came to me, and told me, that a certain great man keepeth ſome lands of hers from her; and that in a whole year ſhe could but get one day for the hear⯑ing of her matter; and on that day the great man brought on his ſide, a ſight of lawyers for his counſel, and that ſhe had but one man of the law; and the great man ſo ſhakes him, that he cannot tell what to do; ſo that when the matter came to the point, the judge was a mean to the gentlewoman, that ſhe would let the great man have a quietneſs in her land. I beſeech your grace, that you will look to theſe matters. Hear them yourſelf. View your judges; and hear poor mens cauſes. And you, proud judges, hearken what God ſaith in his holy book: Hear the poor, ſaith he, as well as the rich. Mark that ſaying, thou proud judge. The devil will bring this ſentence at the day of doom. Hell will be full of ſuch judges, if they repent not and amend. They are worſe than the wick⯑ed judge, Chriſt ſpeaketh of: for they will [110]neither hear men for God's ſake, nor fear of the world, nor importunity, nor any thing elſe. Yea, ſome of them will command them to ward, if they be importunate. I heard ſay, that when a ſuitor came to one of them, he ſaid, What fellow is it that giveth theſe folks counſel to be ſo importunate? He ſhould be committed to ward. Marry, Sir, com⯑mit me then: it is even I that gave them that counſel. And if you amend not, I will cauſe them to cry out upon you ſtill, even as long as I live."

In this third ſermon he laſhes the judges again. "Now-a-days, ſays he, the judges are afraid to hear a poor man againſt the rich: they will either pronounce againſt him, or drive off the ſuit, that he ſhall not be able to go through with it. But the greateſt man in the realm cannot ſo hurt a judge as a poor widow; ſuch a ſhrewd turn can ſhe do him. The cries of the poor aſcend to heaven, and call down vengeance from God. — Cambiſes was a great emperor, ſuch another as our maſter is: he had many lord preſidents, lord deputies, and lieutenants under him. It chanc⯑ed he had under him, in one of his domini⯑ons, a briber, a gift-taker, a gratifier of rich men. The cry of a poor widow came to [111]the emperor's ears; upon which be [...]layed the judge quick, and laid his ſkin in the chair of judgment; that all judges, that ſhould give judgment afterwards ſhould ſit in the ſame ſkin. Surely it was a goodly ſign, the ſign of the judge's ſkin: I pray God, we may once ſee the ſign of the ſkin in England."

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

In his fourth ſermon, he again taxes the biſhops. "Thou ſhalt not, ſays he, addreſ⯑ſing himſelf to the king, be partaker of other mens ſins. So ſaith St. Paul. And what is [112]it to be a partaker of other mens ſins, if it be not ſo, to make unpreaching prelates, and to ſuffer them to continue ſtill in their un⯑preaching prelacy. If the king ſhould ſuffer theſe things, and look through his fingers, and wink at them, ſhould not the king be a par⯑taker of other mens ſins? And why? Is he not ſupreme head of the church? What? Is the ſupremacy a dignity, and nothing elſe? Is it not accountable? I think verily it will be a chargeable dignity, when account ſhall be aſked of it. — If the ſalt is unſavoury, it is good for nothing. By this ſalt is underſtood preachers. And if it is good for nothing, it ſhould be caſt out. Out with them then, caſt them out of their office. What ſhould they do with cures, that will not look to them?—Oh that a man might have the con⯑templation of hell; that the devil would al⯑low a man to look into it, and ſee its ſtate, as he ſhewed all the world, when he tempt⯑ed Chriſt in the wilderneſs. On yonder ſide, would the devil ſay, are puniſhed unpreaching prelates. I think verily a man might ſee as far as a kenning, as far as from Calais to Dover I warrant you, and ſee nothing but unpreach⯑ing prelates.—As for them, I never look to [113]have their good words as long as I live. Yet will I ſpeak of their wickedneſs, as long as I ſhall be permitted to ſpeak. No preacher can paſs it over in ſilence. It is the original root of all miſchief. As for me, I owe them no other ill-will, but to pray God to amend them. I would have them do their duty. I owe them no other malice than this, and this is none at all."

In his fifth ſermon he again laſhes the judges, and patrons of livings. "If a judge, [...]ys he, ſhould ask me the way to hell, I [...]uld ſhew him this way: firſt let him be covetous man; then let him go a little [...]rther, and take bribes, and laſtly, let him pervert judgment. Lo, here is the mother, and the daughter, and the daughter's daugh⯑ter [...]. Avarice is the mother; ſhe brings i [...] th [...] bribe-taking, and bribe-taking pervert⯑ing of judgment. There lacks a fourth thing to make up the meſs, which, ſo God help [...], if I were judge, ſhould be a Tyburn tippit. Were it the judge of the king's-bench, my lord chief judge of England, yea, were it my lord chancellor himſelf, to Tyburn with him.— [...] one will ſay, peradventure, you ſpeak un⯑ [...]mly ſo to be againſt the officers, for taking [114]of rewards: you conſider not the matter to the bottom. Their offices be bought for great ſums: now how ſhould they receive their money again, but by bribing? you would not have them undone. Some of them give two hundred pounds, ſome five hun⯑dred, ſome two thouſand; and how can they gather up this money again, but by helping themſelves in their office?—And is it ſo, trow ye? Are civil offices bought for money? Lord God! who would have thought it it! Oh! that your grace would ſeek through your realm for men, meet for offices, yea, and give them liberally for their pains, rather than that they ſhould give money for them. This buying of offices is a making of bribery: for he that buyeth, muſt needs ſell. You ſhould ſeek out for offices wiſe men, and men of activity, that have ſtomachs to do their buſineſs; not milk-ſops, nor white-livered knights; but fearers of God: for he that feareth God, will be no briber.—But perhaps you will ſay, we touch no bribes. No, marry; but my miſtreſs, your wife, hath a fine finger; ſhe toucheth it for you; or elſe you have a ſervant, who will ſay, if you will offer my maſter a yoke of oxen, you will fare never [115]the worſe: but I think my maſter will not take them: When he has offered them to the maſter, then comes another ſervant, and ſays, if you will carry them to the clerk of the kitchen, you will be remembered the bet⯑ter. This is a frierly faſhion: they will re⯑ceive no money in their hands, but will have it put upon their ſleeves."

Speaking of venal patrons, he cries but, "O Lord, in what caſe are we! I marvel the ground gapes not, and devours us. Surely, if they uſed their religion ſo in Turkey, the Turk uſed not to ſuffer it in his common⯑wealth. Patrons are charged to ſee the office done, not to get lucre by his patronſhip. There was a patron in England, that had a benefice fallen into his hand, and a good brother of mine came unto him, and brought him thirty apples in a diſh, which he gave to his man to carry to his maſter. Having preſented them, he ſaid, Sir, ſuch a man hath ſent you a diſh of fruit, and deſireth yon to be good to him for ſuch a benefice. Tuſh, quoth he, this is no apple matter; I will have hone of his ap⯑ples: I have as good as theſe in my own orchard. The man came to the prieſt again, and told him what his maſter ſaid. [116]Then, quoth the prieſt, deſire but to prove one of them for my ſake: he ſhall find them better than they look for. Upon this, he cut one of them, and found ten pieces of gold in it. Marry, quoth he, this is a good apple. The prieſt ſtanding not far off, hearing what the gentleman ſaid, cried out, they all grow on one tree, I warrant you, Sir, and have all one taſte. Well, this is a good fellow; let him have the benefice, quoth the patron. Get you but a graft of this tree, and it will ſerve you in better ſtead, I warrant you, than all St. Paul's learning. But let patrons take heed; for they ſhall anſwer for all the ſouls that periſh through their default; and yet this is taken for a laughing matter.—I deſire your majeſty to remedy theſe matters; and ſee re⯑dreſs in this realm in your own perſon. Al⯑though, my lord protector, I doubt not, and the reſt of the council do, in the mean time, all that lieth in their power to redreſs things."

He begins his ſixth ſermon with taxing the faſhionable vices of the age. He begins with duelling, and exclaims againſt the remiſſneſs of the law in puniſhing it. "I do not know, ſays he, what you call chance-medley in the law: the law is not my ſtudy. I am a ſcho⯑lar [117]in ſcripture, in God's book: I ſtudy that; and I know what is murder in the ſight of God. I fall out with a man; he is angry with me, and I with him; and lacking op⯑portunity and place, we put it off for that time. In the mean ſeaſon I prepare my weapon, and ſharp it againſt another time. I ſwell and boil in my mind againſt my adver⯑ſary: I ſeek him; we meddle together; it is my chance, by reaſon my weapon is better than his, and ſo forth, to kill him: I give him his death ſtroke in my vengeance. This I call voluntary murder from ſcripture: what it is in the law I cannot tell.—A ſearcher in London, executing his office, diſpleaſed a mer⯑chant. They had words, and the merchant kills him. They that told me this tale, ſay, it is winked at: they look through their fin⯑gers, and will not ſee it. Whether it is taken up with a pardon or not, I know not; but this I am ſure of, that if you bear with ſuch matters, the devil will bear you away to hell. — O Lord! what whoredom is uſed now-a-days! It is marvel that the earth gapeth not, and ſwalloweth us up. God hath ſuffered long of his great mercy; but he will puniſh ſharply at length, if we do not repent.—There [118]are ſuch dicing-houſes alſo, they ſay, as have not been wont to be; where young gentlemen dice away their thrift, and where dicing is, there are other follies alſo. For the love of God let remedy be had. Men of England, in time paſt, when they would ex⯑erciſe themſelves, were wont to go abroad in the fields a ſhooting. The art of ſhooting hath been in times paſt much eſteemed in the realm, in which we excel all other na⯑tions. In my time, my poor father was as diligent to teach me to ſhoot, as to learn me any other thing; and so I think other men did their children. He taught me how to, draw, how to lay my body in my bow, and to draw not with ſtrength of arm, as other na⯑tions do, but with ſtrength of body. But now we have taken up whoring in towns, inſtead of ſhooting in fields. I deſire you, my lords, even as you have the honour of God at heart, and intend to remove his indignation, let there be ſent forth ſome proclamation, ſome ſharp proclamation, to the juſtices of peace; for they do not their duty. Juſtices now be no juſtices."—In the following part of his diſ⯑courſes he ridicules an argument for the pope's ſupremacy, made uſe of by cardinal Pool, in [119]his book againſt king Henry. "Jeſus cometh, ſaith he, to Simon's boat: now come the papiſts, and they will make a myſtery of it: they will pick out the ſupremacy of the biſhop of Rome in Peter's boat. We may make alle⯑gories enough of every part of ſcripture; but ſurely, it muſt needs be a ſimple matter, that ſtandeth on ſo weak a ground. If you aſk, why to Simon's boat, rather than to any other? I will anſwer, as I find by experience in my⯑ſelf, I came hither to-day from Lambeth in a wherry, and when I came to take my boat, the watermen came about me, as the manner is, and he would have me, and he would have me. I took one of them. Now you will aſk me, why I came in that boat rather than any other? Why, becauſe it was next me, and ſtood more commodiouſly for me. And ſo did Chriſt by Simon's boat: it ſtood nearer to him, or mayhap he ſaw a better ſeat in it.—It follow⯑eth in the text, that he taught ſitting. Preach⯑ers, belike, were ſitters in thoſe days. I would our preachers would preach either ſit⯑ting or ſtanding.— The text doth not tell us what he taught. If I were a papiſt now, I could tell you what he ſaid; as pope Nicho⯑las and biſhop Lanfrank did, who tell us that [120]Chriſt ſaid thus. Peter, I do mean, by thus ſitting in thy boat, that thou go to Rome, and be biſhop there five and twenty years after mine aſcenſion; and that all thy ſucceſſors ſhall be rulers of the univerſal church after thee.—Well; it followeth in the text, launch out into the deep. Here Peter was made a great man, and all his ſucceſſors after him, ſay the papiſts. And their argument is this, he ſpake to Peter only, and in the ſingular number; therefore he gave him pre-eminence above the reſt. A goodly argument! I wene it to be a ſyllogiſmus. Well; I will make a like argument. Our Saviour Chriſt ſaid to Judas, when he was about to betray him, What thou doſt, do quickly. He ſpake in the ſingular number to him; therefore he gave him pre-eminence.—Belike, he made him a cardinal; and it might full well be, for they have followed Judas ever ſince.

In this ſermon, likewiſe, he again attacks the clergy. "Chriſt tells us, ſaith he, it be⯑hoved him to preach the goſpel, for therefore was he ſent. Is it a marvellous thing, that our unpreaching prelates can read this place, and yet preach ſo little as they do? I marvel that they can go quietly to bed.—The devil hath ſet up a ſtate of unpreaching prelacy [121]theſe ſeven hundred years, and hath made unpreaching prelates. — I heard of a biſhop of England, that went on a viſita⯑tion, and when he ſhould have been rung in⯑to the town, as the cuſtom is, the great bell's clapper was fallen down. There was a great matter made of this, and the chief of the pa⯑riſh were much blamed for it in the viſitation; and the biſhop was ſomewhat quick with them. They made their anſwers, and ex⯑cuſed themſelves as well as they could: it was a chance, they ſaid; and it ſhould be amend⯑ed as ſhortly as it might be. Among them there was one wiſer than the reſt, who comes up to the biſhop: "Why, my lord, ſays he, doth your lordſhip make ſo great a matter of the bell that lacketh a clapper? Here is a bell, ſaith he, and pointed to the pulpit, that hath lacked a clapper theſe twenty years." I war⯑rant you, this biſhop was an unpreaching pre⯑late: he could find fault with the bell that wanted a clapper to ring him into town, but he could find no fault with the parſon that preach⯑ed not at his benefice. — I came once myſelf to a place, riding on a journey, and ſent word over-night into the town, that I would preach there in the morning, becauſe it was a holi⯑day. The church ſtood in my way, and I took [122]my horſe, and rode thither, thinking I ſhould have found a great company at church. When I came there, the church-door was faſt lock⯑ed. I tarried there half an hour and more: at laſt, one of the pariſh comes to me, and ſays, Sir, this is a buſy day with us, we cannot hear you: it is Robin Hood's day: the pariſh are gone abroad to gather for Robin Hood; I pray you hinder them not. And ſo I was fain to give place to Robin Hood. And all this cometh of unpreaching prelates: if the biſhops had been preachers, there ſhould never have been any ſuch thing.—They upbraid the peo⯑ple with ignorance, when they were the cauſe of it themſelves."

He concludes his ſermon with an addreſs to the king. "I know no man, ſaith he, that hath greater labour than the king. What is his labour? To ſtudy God's book: to ſee that there be no unpreaching prelates in his realm, nor bribing judges; to ſee to all eſtates; to provide for the poor; to ſee that victuals are good and cheap. And is not this a labour, trow ye?—Chriſt teacheth us by his example, that he abhorreth all idleneſs; when he was a carpenter, he did the work of his calling; and when he was a preacher, he did the work [123]of that calling: he was no unpreaching pre⯑late,"

His ſeventh ſermon was preached upon Good-friday, and is adapted to the day. It affords little opportunity, therefore, of dwelling upon the corruptions of the age. He begins with recapitulating the ſubjects of his former diſcourſes, "I have intreated, ſays he, of ſuch matters as I thought fit for this auditory. I have had ado with many eſtates, even with the higheſt of all. I have intreated of the duty of kings, of the duty of magiſtrates, and judges, and of the duty of prelates: and I think there is none of us, neither preacher nor hearer, but may be amended, and redreſs our lives. We may all ſay, yea, all the pack of us, we have ſinned with our fathers, and done wickedly.—You that be of the court, and eſpe⯑cially the ſworn chaplains, beware of a leſſon, which a great man taught me upon my firſt coming to court. He told it me for good-will, and thought it well. You muſt beware, ſaid he, however you do, not to contrary the king: let him have his ſayings, and go with him. Marry, out upon this, counſel: ſhall I ſay, as he ſaith? ay your conſcience, or elſe what a worm ſhall you feel gnawing? [124]what remorſe ſhall you have, when you re⯑member how you have ſlacked your duty?"

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

In his laſt ſermon, which he acquaints his audience, ſhall be the laſt be will ever preach in that place, he touches upon all the parti⯑cular corruptions of the age. He begins it thus: "Take heed, and beware of covetouſ⯑neſs: take heed and beware of covetouſneſs; take heed and beware of covetouſneſs: take heed and beware of covetouſneſs: and what if I ſhould ſay nothing elſe theſe three or four hours, but theſe words?— Great complaints there are of it, and much crying out, and much preaching; but little amendment, that [125]I can ſee—Covetouſneſs is the root of all evil. Then have at the root: out with your ſwords, ye preachers, and ſtrike at the root. Stand not ticking and toying at the branches, for new branches will ſpring out again, but ſtrike at the root, and fear not theſe great men; theſe men of power; theſe oppreſſors of the needy; fear them not, but ſtrike at the root."

In this ſermon he addreſſes himſelf fre⯑quently, and with great freedom to the king. "I come now, ſays he, rather as a ſuiter to your majeſty, than a preacher: for I come to take my laſt farewel in this place: and here I will aſk a petition. For the love of God take an order for marriages here in Eng⯑land. There is much adultery now-a-days, not only in the nobility, but among the in⯑ferior ſort. I could wiſh, therefore, that a law might be provided in this behalf, and that adulterers might be puniſhed with death. If the huſband, or wife ſhould become ſuiter, they might be pardoned the firſt time, but not the ſecond.—And here I have another ſuit to your majeſty: when you come to age, be⯑ware what perſons you have about you. For if you be ſet on pleaſure, or diſpoſed to wan⯑tonneſs, you ſhall have miniſters enough to [126]be fartherers and inſtrumentſs of it.—Fear not foreign princes, and foreign powers. God ſhall make you ſtrong enough: fear him; fear not them. Peradventure you ſhall have that ſhall move you, and ſay unto you; "oh, Sir, ſuch a one is a mighty prince, and a king of great power: you cannot be without his friendſhip: agree with him in religion, or elſe you ſhall have him your enemy." Well; fear them not; cleave to God; and he ſhall defend you: though you ſhould have that would turn with you, yea, even in their white rochets.—Beware, therefore, of two affections, fear, and love. And I require you, look to your office yourſelf, and lay not all on the of⯑ficers backs. Receive bills of ſupplication yourſelf. I do not ſee you do now-a-days, as you were wont to do laſt year. Poor men put up bills every day, and never the nearer. Begin, therefore, doing of your office your⯑ſelf, now when you are young; and ſit once or twice in the week in council among your lords: it will cauſe things to have good ſuc⯑ceſs, and matters will not be ſo lingered from day to day."

With equal ſpirit he taxes the inferior or⯑ders of men. "Ye noblemen, ſays he, I [127]wot not what rule ye keep, but for God's ſake, hear the complaints of the poor. Many complain againſt you, that ye lie in bed till eight, nine, or ten o'clock. I cannot tell what revel ye have over night, whether banquet⯑ing, dicing, carding, or how it is: but in the morning, when poor ſuiters come to your houſes, ye cannot be ſpoke with. They are kept ſometimes without your gates; or if they be let into the hall, or ſome outer chamber, out cometh one or other; Sir, you cannot ſpeak with my lord yet, he is aſleep. And thus poor ſuiters are driven from day to day, that they cannot ſpeak with you. For God's love, look better to it; ſpeak with poor men, when they come to your houſes, and diſpatch poor ſuiters. I went one day myſelf betimes in the morning to a great man's houſe, to ſpeak with him of buſineſs. And methought, I was up betimes: but when I came thither, the great man was gone forth about ſuch affairs as be⯑hoved him. Well, thought I, this is well: I like this. This man doth ſomewhat regard his duty. I came too late for my own mat⯑ter, and loſt my journey; but I was glad to be ſo beguiled. For God's ſake, ye great men, follow this example: riſe in the mornings: [128]be ready for ſuiters that reſort to you; and diſpatch them out of hand.—In the city of Corinth, one had married his ſtep-mother: he was a jolly fellow, a great rich man, belike an alderman of the city, and ſo they winked at it, and would not meddle with the matter. But St. Paul hearing of it, wrote unto them, and in God's behalf, charged them to do away ſuch abomination from among them: nor would he leave them, till he had excommu⯑nicated that wicked perſon. If ye now ſhould excommunicate all ſuch wicked perſons, there would be much ado in England. But the magiſtrates ſhew favour to ſuch, and will not ſuffer them to be rooted out, or put to ſhame. Oh! he is ſuch a man's ſervant, we may not meddle with him. Oh! he is a gentleman, we may not put him to ſhame. And ſo lechery is uſed throughout all England; and ſuch le⯑chery as is uſed in no other part of the world. And yet it is made a matter of ſport, a laugh⯑ing matter, not to be heeded. But beware, ye magiſtrates; for God's love beware of this leaven. I would wiſh that Moſes's law might be reſtored for puniſhment of lechery.—Fear not man, but God. If there be a judg⯑ment between a poor man, and a great man, [129]what, muſt there be a corruption of juſtice? Oh! he is a great man, I dare not diſpleaſe him. Fie upon thee! art thou a judge, and wilt be afraid to give right judgment? Fear him not, be he never ſo great a man, but up⯑rightly do true juſtice. Likewiſe ſome paſtors go from their cure: they are afraid of the plague: they dare not come nigh any ſick body; but hire others, and they go away themſelves. Out upon thee: the wolf cometh upon thy flock to devour them, and when they have moſt need of thee, thou runneſt away from them. The ſoldier alſo, that ſhould go to war, will draw back as much as he can. Oh! I ſhall be ſlain! Oh! ſuch and ſuch went, and never came back! ſuch men went into Norfolk, and were ſlain there. But if the king commandeth thee to go, thou art bound to go. Follow thy occupation: in ſerving the king, thou ſhalt ſerve God.

Ye bribers, that go ſecretly about taking bribes, have in your minds, when ye deviſe your ſecret fetches, how Elizeus's ſervant was ſerved, and was openly known. For God's proverb will be true: there is nothing hid, that ſhall not be revealed. He that took the ſilver baſon and ewer for a bribe, think⯑eth [130]that it will never come out; but he may now know that I know it; and not only I, but there be many more that know it. It will never be merry in England, till we have the ſkins of ſuch. For what needeth bribing, where men do their buſineſs uprightly. I have to lay out for the king three thouſand pounds: well, when I have laid it out, and bring in mine account, I muſt give three hundred marks to have my bills warranted. If I have done truly and uprightly, what need I give a penny to have my bills warranted? If I do bring in a true account, wherefore ſhould one groat be given? Smell ye nothing in this? What need any bribes be given, except the bills be falſe?—Well, ſuch practice hath been in England; but beware, it will out one day.—And here now I would ſpeak to you, my maſ⯑ters minters, augmentationers, receivers, ſur⯑veyors, and auditors: ye are known well enough what ye were afore ye came to your offices, and what lands ye had then, and what ye have purchaſed ſince, and what buildings ye make daily. Well: I doubt not but there be ſome good officers among you, but I will not ſwear for all.— And for the love of God, let poor workmen be paid. They make their [131]moan, that they can get no money. The poor labourers, gun-makers, powder-men, bow-makers, arrow-makers, ſmiths, carpenters and other crafts cry for their wages. They be un⯑paid, ſome of them, three or four months, ſome of them half a year, yea, ſome of them put up bills this time twelve month for their money, and cannot be paid yet.— The firſt lent I preached here, I preached of reſtitu⯑tion: Reſtitution, quoth ſome, what ſhould he preach of reſtitution? let him preach of contrition, and let reſtitution alone: we can never make reſtitution. Then ſay I, if thou wilt not make reſtitution, thou ſhalt go to the devil. Now chooſe thee either reſtitution, or damnation. There be two kinds of reſtitu⯑tion, ſecret and open: and whether of the two be uſed, if reſtitution be made, it is well enough. At my firſt preaching of reſtitution, one man took remorſe of conſcience, and ac⯑knowledged to me, that he had deceived the king; and was willing to make reſtitution: ſo the firſt lent, twenty pounds came to my hands for the king's uſe. I was promiſed twenty pounds more the ſame lent, but it could not be made up, ſo that it came not. Well, the next lent came three hundred and twenty [132]pounds more: I received it myſelf, and paid it to the king's council. There I was aſked, what he was that had thus made reſtitution? But ſhould I have named him? nay, they ſhould as ſoon have had this weſand of mine. Well; now this lent came one hundred and eighty pounds more, which I have paid this preſent day to the king's council. And ſo this man hath made a goodly reſtitution. If every one who hath beguiled the king (ſaid I to a certain nobleman, who is one of the king's council) ſhould make reſtitution after this ſort, it would cough up the king, I warrant you, twenty thouſand pounds. Yea, quoth the other, a whole hundred thouſand pounds. Alack, alack! make reſtitution; for God's ſake make reſtitution: you will cough in hell elſe, that all the devils will laugh at your coughing. There is no remedy: reſtitution or hell. Now this is of ſecret reſtitution. Some examples have been of open reſtitution. I am not afraid to name one: it was maſter Sherington, an honeſt gentleman, and one that God loveth. He openly confeſſed, that he had deceived the king, and made open reſtitution. Oh, what an argument may he have againſt the devil!"

[133]I will conclude theſe extracts, with his own apology for his free ſpeaking. "England, ſays he, cannot abide this geer; it cannot hear God's miniſter, and his threatning againſt ſin. Though the ſermon be never ſo good, and never ſo true, ſtrait, he is a ſeditious fellow, he maketh trouble and rebellion in the realm, he lacketh diſcretion. The Ninevites re⯑buked not Jonas, that he lacked diſcretion, or that he ſpake out of time. But in England, if God's preacher be any thing quick, or ſpeak ſharply, then he is a fooliſh fellow, and lack⯑eth diſcretion. Now-a-days, if they cannot reprove the doctrine, they will reprove the preacher: what! preach ſuch things now! He ſhould have reſpect to the time, and the ſtate of things. It rejoiceth me, when my friends tell me, that people find fault with my diſcretion: for by likelihood, think I, the doctrine is true: for if they could find fault with the doctrine, they would not charge me with the lack of diſcretion, or the inconve⯑niency of the time. I will aſk you a queſtion: I pray you, when ſhould Jonas have preached againſt the covetouſneſs of Nineveh, if the co⯑vetous men ſhould have appointed him his time? I know that preachers ought to have [134]diſcretion in their preaching; and that they ought to have a conſideration, and reſpect to the place and the time, where and when they preach: and I ſay here what I would not ſay in the country for no good. But what then? Sin muſt be rebuked: ſin muſt be plainly ſpo⯑ken againſt."

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

SECTION IX.

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

As for his aſperſing the admiral's character, his character was ſo bad, there was no room for aſperſion. A more debauched perſon hath rarely infeſted a court, than he was, during the laſt reign. But years growing upon him, and his appetite for pleaſure abating, his paſſions took a new courſe, and from a voluptuous, he became an ambitious man. The pravity of his diſpoſition, however, continued the ſame, though the object of his purſuit was altered. Having married the queen dowager of Eng⯑land, [136]he began to raiſe his expectations to great heights. But enlarging his views ſtill farther as he roſe, and finding his marriage an incumbrance to him, he eaſed himſelf of it, as is generally ſuſpected, by unfair means. This was done to make way for the princeſs Elizabeth, to whoſe bed he aſpired; and, by her means, to the crown. But being diſap⯑pointed of this, he entered into cabals againſt his brother the protector, ſet himſelf at the head of a party, and went ſo far as even to coin money, and raiſe troops; threat⯑ning to take the king, and the govern⯑ment out of his brother's hands. For theſe treaſonable actions, and after frequent and fruitleſs admonitions from his brother, he was ſentenced to loſe his head: having been pro⯑ſecuted according to the uſual, but inequitable practice of thoſe times, by a bill in parliament; though there was matter enough to have con⯑demned him in a fairer trial.

But though the lord Sudley paid only ſo due a forfeit to the laws of his country, and had indeed been uſed with much greater ten⯑derneſs, than his offences deſerved; yet his death occaſioned great clamour, and was made uſe of by the lords of the oppoſition (for he [137]left a very diſſatisfied party behind him) as a handle to raiſe a popular odium againſt the protector.

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

Since therefore Mr. Latimer's behaviour, in this inſtance, may be ſo fairly accounted for; and ſince his whole character was ſo contradictory to any ſiniſter practice, I per⯑ſuade myſelf, that I have ſaid enough to wipe this reproach from his memory. What could induce that man to flatter the great, who, for the ſake of truth, had voluntarily reſigned one of the higheſt offices in his profeſſion; and which, when voluntarily offered to him again, he had refuſed: a man too, who had taken all opportunities of inveighing againſt the vices of the greateſt perſonages with a freedom, [138]which in the ſtricteſt times would have been admired? So improbable indeed the ſlander is, that I ſhould not have taken the pains I have taken to confute it, if it had not been credited, at leaſt recorded as credible, by ſo great a man as our countryman John Milton; who, being a warm party-writer in the re⯑publican times of the Oliverian uſurpation, ſuffers his zeal againſt epiſcopacy, in more in⯑ſtances than this, to bias his veracity, or at beſt, to impoſe upon his underſtanding.

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

This nobleman was the ſon of that infamous Dudley, who, in the days of Henry VII. drew upon himſelf the odium of the nation by the invidious employment he held under that avaricious prince. When Henry VIII. came to the crown, he ſacrificed the father to the reſentment of the people, and raiſed the ſon to be a peer of the realm. But during the reign of this prince, he never appeared of prime conſideration in the public eye. In [139]king Edward's reign he ſhewed himſelf with diſtinction enough. He was a man of unli⯑cenced pleaſure, and unbounded ambition, more debauched, if poſſible, and more aſpiring than even the lord Sudley; and by far more dangerous; inaſmuch as he was more artful than he, more deep, more ſpecious, and more prudent. He was at the ſame time ſo reſo⯑lute and daring, that nothing arduous or dan⯑gerous ever checked him. In a word, he had more miſchievous deſigns, and better abilities to do miſchief, than any man of his time, ex⯑cepting only the biſhop of Wincheſter.

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

From this time I meet with no accounts of Mr. Latimer, during the remainder of king Edward's reign. It ſeems moſt probable, that [140]upon this revolution at court, he retired into the country, and made uſe of the king's li⯑cence, as a general preacher, in thoſe parts, where he thought his labours might be moſt uſeful: I ſhall, however, for the ſake of con⯑nection, ſketch out the intervening hiſtory of thoſe times, till we meet with Mr. Latimer again, in the order of them.

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

About the time when this alliance was con⯑cluded, the king fell ſick; and his diſtemper increaſing, though the ſymptoms were not yet violent, the duke adviſed the ſettlement of the ſucceſſion. Great objections were made to the princeſs Mary, on the account of her religion: and objections were made both to her and her ſiſter, on the account of their ille⯑gitimacy. But though they had an act of par⯑liament in their favour, by the duke's ma⯑nagement, they were both ſet aſide, and the [141]crown was ſettled upon his daughter-in-law, the lady Jane Grey; who, upon the king's death, which happened ſoon after, was pro⯑claimed queen of England. The world ob⯑ſerving how aptly the king's death coincided with the duke's deſigns, had little reaſon to doubt of its being a projected part of a regu⯑lar plan.

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

The princeſs Mary, of whom he fatally thought himſelf too ſecure, found adherents in many parts of the nation, moſt of whom nothing but their great averſion to the duke's government, could have drawn to her party. Her power daily increaſing, the duke led an army againſt her. But his efforts were vain. While his forces were continually diminiſh⯑ing by revolts, he was thunder-ſtruck with news from London, that the council had de⯑ſerted him, and had proclaimed queen Mary. Thus forſaken of all his friends, like other diſappointed villains, he forſook himſelf; and agonizing for ſome time under the pangs of [142]baffled guilt and ambition, he gave at laſt a temporary caſe to his diſtracted thoughts, by ſubmitting himſelf to the queen's mercy: and if every ſervile compliance, even to the ab⯑juring the religion he had all his life profeſſed, could have ſaved him, he had been ſaved. But his crimes exceeded forgiveneſs. He was given up therefore to juſtice, and ended his life up⯑on a ſcaffold.

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

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

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

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

The biſhop of London had formerly main⯑tained an intereſt with Henry VIII. by means of the loweſt adulation, to which that prince was very open: and though he went along [144]with the innovations of that reign, yet when queen Mary began to look among her friends, his ſufferings under king Edward were ac⯑cepted as an atonement. Hitherto he had acted in diſguiſe; but finding himſelf now free from all reſtraint, the whole man ap⯑peared. And ſure the genius of popery had never a more proper ſubject to work on. He was a man of violent paſſions, and thoſe of the ſanguine kind: of little obſervation and know⯑ledge, and without any judgment; as if juſt prepared for the infuſions of blind zeal and prejudice.

Theſe were the perſons, from whoſe coun⯑ſels, (upon the preſent revolution of govern⯑ment) the ſettlement of religion was expect⯑ed. Bonner was indeed little more than an agent in the hands of Gardiner, who on many occaſions choſe rather to ſit concealed, and work miſchief by proxy. It ſuited the dark⯑neſs of his diſpoſition, and he found in Bon⯑ner an inſtrument intirely adapted to his pur⯑poſe; open ears, an impetuous temper, raging zeal, a hardened heart, and an obſtinate per⯑ſeverance: ſo that Gardiner had only to wind him up occaſionally, and give him a proper di⯑rection; and the zealot moved with the regu⯑larity [145]of a machine, and with what impetuoſi⯑ty his director impreſſed.

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

The queen's deſigns being now every where apparent, the reformed clergy preſently took the alarm. They ſaw their pariſhes about to be corrupted by Romiſh preachers, who ſpread themſelves over the nation in great numbers; and thinking, in the primitive man⯑ner, that it was right to obey God rather than man, they reſolved to endure the worſt for the ſake of their religion. Many of them, there⯑fore, preached with great freedom, in their accuſtomed manner, againſt the doctrines of popery. And, to ſet them an example, arch⯑biſhop Cranmer drew up a very free paper, by way of proteſtation againſt the maſs; which got abroad before he publiſhed it. Upon this he was ſent for by the council; and being queſtioned about it, he boldly anſwered, "The paper was his, and he was only ſorry, that he had not fixed it, as he intended, with his hand and ſeal, upon St. Paul's gate." Moſt [146]men wondered that he was ſuffered to eſcape; but it was thought more prudent to begin with the inferior clergy. Accordingly, a ſtrict in⯑quiry was made after the more forward and popular preachers; and many of them were taken into cuſtody: ſome without any cauſe al⯑ledged; particularly Rogers and Bradford, who had uſed their popularity in no inſtance, ſince the late change of government, but in reſcuing a popiſh prieſt from an inraged multitude. After theſe, others of more diſtinction were impriſoned; and in a little time the arch⯑biſhop himſelf.

SECTION X.

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

The meſſenger therefore found him equip⯑ped for his journey: at which, expreſſing his ſurprize, Mr. Latimer told him, "That he was as ready to attend him to London, thus called upon to anſwer for his faith, as he ever was to take any journey in his life: and that he doubted not but that God, who had already [148]enabled him to ſtand before two princes, would enable him to ſtand before a third." The meſſenger then acquainting him, that he had no orders to ſeize his perſon, delivered a letter, and departed. From which it is plain, they choſe rather to drive him out of the king⯑dom, than to bring him to any public queſtion. They well knew the firmneſs of his mind; and were afraid, as Mr. Fox obſerves, "leſt his conſtancy ſhould deface them in their pope⯑ry, and confirm the godly in the truth."

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

This was but a repetition of a former part of his life: only he now met with harſher treat⯑ment, and had more frequent occaſion to exerciſe his reſignation; which virtue no man poſſeſſed in a larger meaſure. Nay⯑even the uſual chearfulneſs of his diſpoſition [149]did not now forſake him; of which we have one inſtance ſtill remaining.

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

In the mean time the biſhop of Wincheſter, and his friends held frequent councils on pub⯑lic affairs; and endeavoured to impoſe upon the world, by making it believe, that reaſon as well as power was on their ſide. With this view it was reſolved, that when the convoca⯑tion met, the argument between the papiſts and proteſtants ſhould be handled. But Gar⯑diner was a better politician, than to commit a matter of ſuch conſequence to a fair debate. He had provided for the ſucceſs, therefore, by modelling a convocation to his mind; in which only ſix proteſtant divines got admittance. By [150]this junto, points of divinity and articles of faith were ſettled.

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

Of theſe three, Ridley was generally eſteemed the moſt eminent for parts and [151]learning; as indeed he was ſuperior in theſe points to moſt men of the age in which he lived. He poſſeſſed likewiſe, in a great de⯑gree, all thoſe valuable qualities, which make a man amiable in ſociety. All the virtues of humanity were kneaded in his compoſition. Through Cranmer's recommendation, in king Edward's time, he was promoted to the bi⯑ſhopric of London, over which he preſided with that exemplary luſtre, which piety and virtue add to eminence of ſtation. In the be⯑ginning of queen Mary, he was involved with the firſt in the troubles of the times, which no man endured with greater conſtancy.

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

In the mean time Mr. Latimer, and his companions were cloſely confined at Oxford, in the common priſon; deprived of every [152]comfort, but what their own breaſts could ad⯑miniſter. How free the diſputation was like⯑ly to be, they might eaſily imagine, when they found themſelves denied the uſe even of books, and pen and ink. Their priſon-hours, however, were not ſpent in vain lamentations: their religion raiſed them above all human ſufferings, and all mortal fears.

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

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

[153]The two biſhops are repreſented fitting in their priſon, ruminating upon the ſolemn preparations then making for their trial, of which probably they were now firſt informed. Biſhop Ridley firſt broke ſilence. "The time, ſaid he, is now come: we are now called upon either to deny our faith, or to ſuffer death in its defence. You, Mr. Latimer, are an old ſoldier of Chriſt, and have frequently with⯑ſtood the fear of death; whereas I am raw in the ſervice, and unexperienced." With this preface he introduces a requeſt, that Mr. Lati⯑mer, whom he calls his father, would hear him propoſe ſuch arguments as he thinks it moſt likely his adverſaries would urge againſt him, and aſſiſt him in providing himſelf with pro⯑per anſwers to them. To this Mr. Latimer, in his uſual ſtrain of good-humour, anſwered, that, "He fanſied the good biſhop was treat⯑ing him, as he remembered Mr. Bilney uſed formerly to do, who, when he wanted to teach him, would always do it under colour of be⯑ing taught himſelf. But in the preſent caſe, ſays he, my lord, I am determined for myſelf to give them very little trouble. I ſhall juſt offer them a plain account of my faith, and ſhall ſay very little more: for I know any thing [154]more will be to no purpoſe. They talk of a free diſputation; but I am well aſſured, their grand argument will be, as it was once their forefathers, "We have a law, and by our law ye ought to die." However, upon Mr. Rid⯑ley's preſſing his requeſt, they entered upon the examination he deſired.

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

"Thus you ſee, good father, how I would prepare myſelf for my adverſary; and how I would learn by practice to be expert in thoſe weapons, which I ſhall preſently be obliged to wield. In Tine-dale, upon the borders of Scotland, the place of my nativity, I have known my countrymen watch night and day in arms; eſpecially when they had notice of any intended inroad from the Scots. And though by ſuch bravery many of them loſt their lives, yet they defended their country, died in a good cauſe, and intailed the love of the neighbourhood upon their poſterity. And ſhall not we watch in the cauſe of Chriſt, and in the defence of our religion, whereon de⯑pend [155]all our hopes of immortality? Shall we not go always armed? ever ready to receive a watchful foe? Let us then awake; and taking the croſs upon our ſhoulders, let us follow our captain Chriſt, who by his own blood hath hallowed the way that leadeth to God.—Thus, good father, I have opened my heart freely unto you. And now, methinks, I ſee you juſt about to lift up your eyes to heaven, in your accuſtomed manner, and turning your prophetical countenance upon me, thus to ſpeak. "Truſt not, my ſon, (I pray you vouch⯑ſafe me the honour of this name, for in it I ſhall think myſelf both honoured by you and loved) truſt not, I ſay, my ſon, to theſe word-weapons, but remember what our Lord ſays, "It ſhall be given you in that ſame hour what you ſhall ſpeak." Pray for me, O father, pray for me, that I may throw my whole care up⯑on God; and may truſt in him only in my diſtreſſes."

"Of my prayers, replied the old biſhop, you may be well aſſured: nor do I doubt but I ſhall have yours in return. And indeed, prayer and patience ſhould be our great reſources. For myſelf, had I the learning of St. Paul, I ſhould think it ill laid out upon an elaborate [156]defence. Yet our caſe, my lord, admits of comfort. Our enemies can do no more than God permits; and God is faithful; who will not ſuffer us to be tempted above our ſtrength. Be at a point with them: ſtand to that, and let them ſay and do what they pleaſe. To uſe many words would be vain: yet it is requiſite to give a reaſonable account of your faith, if they will quietly hear you. For other things, in a wicked judgment-hall, a man may keep ſilence after the example of Chriſt. As for their ſophi⯑ſtry, you know falſehood may often be diſ⯑played in the colours of truth. But above all things, be upon your guard againſt the fear of death. This is the great argument you muſt oppoſe.—Poor Shaxton! it is to be feared this argument had the greateſt weight in his recantation. But let us be ſtedfaſt, and unmoveable; aſſuring ourſelves, that we cannot be more happy, than by be⯑ing ſuch Philippians, as not only believe in Chriſt, but dare ſuffer for his ſake."—With ſuch noble fortitude, and ſuch exalted ſentiments were theſe two great reformers of religion inſpired!

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

SECTION XI.

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

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

Some among them were of more conſe⯑quence; Weſton, Smith, Treſham, and Chedſey.

Weſton was a man of conſiderable learn⯑ing, which gave him great reputation with his party. In all points of divinity, his judg⯑ment was eſteemed deciſive; and none was thought more worthy to preſide over the con⯑vocation. His religion, however, was only in [158]his head: it made no impreſſion upon his heart. Yet he maintained a decent outſide; and had the addreſs to paſs off in the world a great ſhare of ſpiritual pride for ſanctity of manners: till having at length the misfor⯑tune to be taken in adultery, he was generally known. He was at this time, however, in the meridian of his credit.

Smith was a mere temporizer, and had all his life taken his creed from the eſtabliſh⯑ment. He had been bred a papiſt, and had written with ſome credit againſt prieſt's mar⯑riage. But when proteſtantiſm took the lead, he got himſelf recommended, through Cran⯑mer's means, to the reigning powers; and to eſtabliſh himſelf the better, promiſed to con⯑fute his own book. But before his treatiſe was finiſhed, the times changed; and his faith changing with them, he was again taken no⯑tice of by the heads of the prevailing reli⯑gion; his pen recommending him, which was eaſy and elegant; while the ſtory of his hav⯑ing agreed to confute his own book, which was indeed a fact, was imputed only to the malice of the adverſe party.

Treſham was an orthodox divine; but one of thoſe heavy mortals, who have great learn⯑ing, [159]and no ſenſe. He was a bigot in the laſt degree. But the following ſtory will give a juſt idea of his character. When queen Mary began to think of reſtoring the old religion at Oxford, Dr. Treſham, then ſub-dean of Chriſt-church, was among thoſe, who were truſted by her in this buſineſs. Calling together, therefore, the members of his college, he recommended popery to them in a ſet ora⯑tion: and having talked over all the common-place arguments with ſufficient prolixity, he emphatically concluded with telling them, "That a parcel of very fine copes had been made to go to Windſor; but that the queen had been ſo gracious as to ſend them to Chriſt-church; and that if they would go to maſs, they ſhould each have one: that upon that condition, he would, moreover, procure for them the lady-bell at Bampton, which would make Chriſt-church bells the ſweeteſt of any in England: and that laſtly, he would give them as fine a water-ſprinkle, as eyes ever beheld."

But among them all, Chedſey was by far the moſt conſiderable. He was indeed a very able man. For parts and learning, few of his time went beyond him. But he too had a [160]ductile faith, which had been wholly guided by that of his ſuperiors. He made atonement, however, for his temporiſing under king Ed⯑ward, by his zeal in perſecuting under queen Mary.

Theſe perſons, having now received all the civilities, which the zeal of Oxford could ex⯑preſs, and having ſettled all previous puncti⯑lio's, proceeded to buſineſs. Arraying them⯑ſelves therefore in ſcarlet, they met at St. Mary's church; where ſeating themſelves be⯑fore the altar, and placing the prolocutor in the midſt, they ſent for the priſoners.

The croud ſoon made way for archbiſhop Cranmer, who was brought in by a guard of armed men. When the tumult was a little compoſed, the prolocutor made a ſhort ora⯑tion to his audience in praiſe of religious unity; and then turning to the archbiſhop, he re⯑minded him of the pious education he had received in an orthodox ſeminary; of the emi⯑nent ſtation he had held under a catholic king, and of his long attachment to popery. He then ſpoke with an affected concern of his ſhameful apoſtacy; and of the ſeveral errors, which had crept into the church, while he preſided over it. Laſtly, he acquainted [161]him with the deſign of their preſent meeting; informing him, that the convocation, by her majeſty's order, taking into conſideration his apoſtacy, and that of his brethren, had com⯑miſſioned them to endeavour to bring them back to their mother church; that for this end certain articles had been drawn up, which the convocation had ſigned, and which it was expected, that he too, and his brethren, would either ſubſcribe or confute.

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

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

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

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

The articles being read, the archbiſhop, deſiring leave, read them over to himſelf three or four times; and then aſking a few perti⯑nent queſtions with regard to the import of ſome of the terms, with ſome earneſtneſs de⯑nied them all. "I am as great a friend, ſaid [162]he, gentlemen, to unity, as any of you; but I can never think of making falſehood the bond of peace. The prolocutor, making no reply, ordered a copy of the articles to be de⯑livered to him; and fixed a day, on which he told him he expected, he would publicly maintain his negative.

Dr. Ridley was next brought in, who, with⯑out any heſitation, denied the articles. Upon which the prolocutor appointed him likewiſe a diſputation-day, and diſmiſſed him.

Biſhop Latimer was brought in laſt, like a primitive martyr, in his priſon attire. He had a cap upon his head, buttoned under his chin, a pair of ſpectacles hanging at his breaſt, a New Teſtament under his arm, and a ſtaff in his hand. He was almoſt ſpent with preſ⯑ſing through the croud; and the prolocutor ordering a chair to be brought for him, he walked up to it, and ſaying, he was a very old man, ſat down without any ceremony. The articles were then tendered to him; which he denied. The prolocutor, upon this, telling him, that he muſt diſpute on the wedneſday following; the old biſhop, with as much chearfulneſs, as he would have ſhewn upon the moſt ordinary occaſion, ſhaking his palſied [163]head, anſwered, ſmiling, "Indeed, gentle⯑men, I am juſt as well qualified to be made governor of Calais." He then complained, that he was very old, and very infirm; and ſaid, that he had the uſe of no book but of that under his arm; which he had read ſe⯑ven times over deliberately, without finding the leaſt mention made of the maſs. In this ſpeech he gave great offence, by ſaying, in his humourous way, alluding to tranſubſtantia⯑tion, that he could find neither the marrow-bones, nor the ſinews of the maſs in the New Teſtament. Upon which, the prolocutor cried out with ſome warmth, that he would make him find both: and when Mr. Latimer, re⯑collecting himſelf, was going to explain his meaning in that expreſſion, he was not ſuf⯑fered to ſpeak.

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

At length, the appointed day came for the archbiſhop's diſputation. You might have known ſomething very uncommon was in agitation; for the whole univerſity was in motion. Almoſt at day-break the ſchools were thronged. About eight, the commiſſioners [164]took their ſeats; and preſently afterwards, the archbiſhop was brought in guarded.

But I will not delay the reader with the particulars of this day, nor of that, on which biſhop Ridley diſputed. I ſhall only ſay in general, for the ſake of truth, that the papiſts do not ſeem to have juſtice done them by their proteſtant adverſaries. Let theſe put what gloſs upon the affair they pleaſe, the papiſts certainly had the better of the argument on both thoſe days. The caſe was this, they drew their chief proofs, in favour of tranſubſtan⯑tiation, from the fathers; many of whom, and fome of the more eſteemed writers among them, ſpeak on this ſubject in a language by no means evangelical. The two biſhops ac⯑cordingly being thus preſſed by an authority, which they durſt not reject, were not a little embarraſſed. And indeed, how could a pro⯑teſtant divine defend ſuch a paſſage as this from St. Chryſoſtom? "What a miracle is this! He who ſits above with the Father, at the very ſame inſtant of time is handled with the hands of men?" or ſuch a paſſage as this from the ſame writer, "That which is in the cup, is the ſame which flowed from the ſide of Chriſt?" or this from Theophilact. "Becauſe [165]we would abhor the eating of raw fleſh, and eſpecially human fleſh, therefore, it appear⯑eth as bread, though it is indeed fleſh?" or this from St. Auſtin, "Chriſt was carried in his own hands, when he ſaid, this is my body?" or this from Juſtin Martyr, "We are taught, that when this nouriſhing food is conſecrated, it becomes the fleſh and blood of Chriſt?" or this from St. Ambroſe, "It is bread before it is conſecrated, but when that ceremony hath paſſed upon it, of bread it be⯑comes the fleſh of Chriſt?" Of all theſe paſ⯑ſages, and many others of the ſame kind, the papiſts, with not a little dexterity, made their avail. The two biſhops, in the mean time, inſtead of diſavowing an inſufficient authority, weakly defended a good cauſe; evading, and diſtinguiſhing, after the manner of ſchool⯑men. Ridley's defence indeed was ve⯑ry animated: for he had great quickneſs of parts as well as learning. Cranmer's was no way extraordinary: through his great mo⯑deſty, he ſeems to have been over-awed by his audience. And yet Ridley would have acted as wiſe a part, if he had taken his friend biſhop Latimer's advice, and contented him⯑ſelf with giving a reaſonable account of his [166]faith. I ſhall only add, that theſe diſputa⯑tions were very tumultuous, and accompanied with great indecency both of language and behaviour on the part of the papiſt.

The day after the biſhop of London diſ⯑puted, biſhop Latimer was called into the ſchools. Of this day I ſhall be more par⯑ticular.

SECTION XII.

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

[168]Upon this he took a paper out of his poc⯑ket, and began to read his proteſtation. But he had not proceeded many minutes, when a murmur aroſe on every hand, increaſing by degrees into a clamour; which the prolocutor was ſo far from checking, that in a very inde⯑cent manner he patronized it, calling out, with ſome circumſtances of rudeneſs, upon the biſhop to deſiſt.—The old man, ſur⯑priſed with this ſudden tumult of ill-manners, pauſed in admiration at it: but preſently recovering himſelf, he turned to the prolo⯑cutor, and ſaid, with ſome vehemence; "In my time I have ſpoken before two kings, and have been heard for ſome hours together, without interruption: here I cannot be per⯑mitted one quarter of an hour.—Dr. Weſton, I have frequently heard of you before: but I think I never ſaw you till now. I perceive you have great wit, and great learning: God grant you may make a right uſe of theſe gifts!" Other things he ſaid; but theſe are the principal. His ſpeech had its effect. The prolocutor took his paper, and ſaid, he would read it himſelf. But whether he could not read it, or would not, he preſently laid it down, and called out to the biſhop, "Since [169]you refuſe to diſpute, will you then ſubſcribe?" Upon his anſwering in the negative, Weſton artfully leads him by a train of familiar que⯑ſtions into an argument; and when he thought he had raiſed him to a proper pitch, he gave a ſign to Dr. Smith the opponent, to begin: who being prepared, immediately riſes up, and in a pompous manner, prefaces the diſputation, and gives out the queſtion. When he had done, the old biſhop gravely anſwered, "I am ſorry, Sir, that this wor⯑ſhipful audience muſt be diſappointed in their expectation.—I have already ſpoken my mind."

The prolocutor obſerving this, begins again in his artful manner to draw Mr. Latimer in⯑to an argument. Pray, ſaid he, Sir, how long have you been in priſon?—About nine months, Sir.—But I was impriſoned, ſaid Weſton, ſix years.—I am heartily ſorry for it, Sir.—I think you were once, Mr. Latimer, of our way of thinking.—I was, Sir.—I have heard too, that you have ſaid maſs in your time?—I have, Sir.—He then aſked him, why he altered his opinion; and thus by de⯑grees, led him to anſwer the chief arguments brought from ſcripture in favour of tranſub⯑ſtantiation. [170]They then began to ply him with the fathers: and firſt, a paſſage from Hillary was quoted. As he was about to an⯑ſwer, one of the commiſſioners called out to him, (on account of the populace moſt pro⯑bably) "Mr. Latimer, ſpeak in Latin, ſpeak in Latin, I know you can do it, if you pleaſe." But the biſhop ſaying he had the prolocutor's leave, went on in Engliſh, and told them, that, "As for the paſſage from Hillary, which they had quoted, he really could not ſee that it made much for them; but he would anſwer them by another quotation from Melancthon, who ſays, that if the fathers had foreſeen how much weight their authority was to have in this controverſy, they would have written with more caution."

But the opponent not being ſatisfied with this, begs leave to reduce the words of Hil⯑lary into a ſyllogiſtic argument, and begins thus: "Such as is the unity of our fleſh with Chriſt's fleſh, ſuch, nay greater, is the unity of Chriſt with the Father.—But the unity of Chriſt's fleſh with our fleſh, is true and ſub⯑ſtantial.—Therefore, the unity of Chriſt with the Father, is true and ſubſtantial.—Here he pauſed, expecting that the biſhop would deny [171]his major or his minor, as the logicians ſpeak. But inſtead of that, he anſwered gravely, "You may go on, Sir, if you pleaſe; but, upon my word, I do not underſtand you."

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

Little more was ſaid, when the prolocutor finding it was impoſſible to urge him into a controverſy, roſe up, and diſſolved the aſſem⯑bly, crying out to the populace, "Here you all ſee the weakneſs of hereſy againſt the truth: here is a man who, adhering to his errors, hath given up the goſpel, and rejected [172]the fathers." The old biſhop made no re⯑ply; but wrapping his gown about him, and taking up his New Teſtament, and his ſtaff, walked out as unconcerned, as he came in.

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

Theſe ſolemn diſputations being thus at an end, nothing now remained but to paſs ſen⯑tence. On the friday following, therefore, the commiſſioners, ſeated in their accuſtomed [173]form, ſent for the three biſhops to St. Mary's church: where, after ſome affected exhorta⯑tions to recant, the prolocutor firſt excommu⯑nicated, and then condemned them. As ſoon as the ſentence was read, biſhop Latimer lift⯑ing up his eyes, cried out, "I thank God moſt heartily, that he hath prolonged my life to this end!" To which the prolocu⯑tor replied, "If you go to heaven in this faith, I am thoroughly perſuaded I ſhall ne⯑ver get there."

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

Theſe eminent perſons being thus con⯑victed of hereſy, and delivered over to the ſecular arm, various were the opinions of men concerning them. Some thought the queen was inclined to mercy; and it was confidently reported, that the three biſhops would be removed indeed from interfering publicly with religion; but that, very liberally penſioned, they ſhould in other reſpects have no cauſe to complain: while ſome again as poſitively affirmed, their meaſure would be very hard; as the queen, it was well known, would never forgive the hand [174]they had had in her mother's divorce, and the ſeparation from the church of Rome. But theſe were only the popular conjec⯑tures of the time, none of them founded on truth: for the councils, which determin⯑ed the fates of theſe great men, had not yet birth.

SECTION XIII.

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

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

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

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

Cardinal Pool, of the blood royal of Eng⯑land, was as much known in the world as any churchman of his time; and as generally eſteemed. He might have been at the head of the reformation under Henry VIII; but he choſe rather to court the favours of the pope; with whom to ingratiate himſelf, he treated Henry, then beginning to innovate, [177]in a manner, which drew upon him a bill of attainder. But as Rome was the ſituation he choſe, his exile was the leſs grievous. Here his influence was ſo great, that he aſpired to the papacy: and he would have carried his point, if his honeſty had permitted him to have en⯑gaged thoroughly in the intrigues of the con⯑clave. This diſappointment awaked his phi⯑loſophy, and he retired from the world into a monaſtery of Benedictines near Verona. Here he was contemplating the vanity of all earthly things, when he received a gracious letter from the queen of England, preſſing his return to his native country, with all aſ⯑ſurances of favour. Immediately his eyes were opened; and he found that, inſtead of ſound philoſophy, he had been indulging only a reverie of melancholy. As ſoon as poſ⯑ſible, therefore, he ſet out for England; where he was received in great form, and placed at the head of eccleſiaſtical affairs. And, to do him juſtice, he became his ſtation. He was a great and a good man; moderate in his opini⯑ons, and prudent in his behaviour; and would certainly have prevented thoſe reproaches on his religion, which this reign occaſioned, had his reſolution been equal to his judgment.

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

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

To this the biſhop of Wincheſter anſwered, "That, in his opinion, it was the ſame thing not to have a law, and not to execute one: that ſome blood muſt be ſhed: that he was not an advocate for a general maſſacre: to [179]ſhake the leaves, he ſaid, was of little avail; he would have the ax laid to the root of the tree: the biſhops, and moſt forward preach⯑ers, ought certainly to die: the reſt were of no conſequence."

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

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

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

SECTION XIV.

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

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

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

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

But this was only an under part in his ſcheme. He knew, and was diſtreſſed in knowing, that the archbiſhopric of Canterbury, upon the death of Cranmer, was intended for the legate. [183]This dignity his heart was ſet on, of which he made himſelf ſure upon the removal of Pool. With this view he did what he could to delay the execution of Cranmer, till the legate was recalled, and his own head ready for the mitre.

Theſe delays, however, at length grew no⯑torious, and occaſioned ſome clamour among the warmer papiſts: and Wincheſter finding himſelf preſſed by the curioſity of ſome, and the zeal of others, was obliged, in part at leaſt, to abandon his ſcheme. It was his ori⯑ginal deſign, as leſs liable to ſuſpicion, to have treated the three biſhops in the ſame way. However now, to wipe off the offence that had been taken, he reſolved to give up Rid⯑ley and Latimer to their immediate fate; and to delay Cranmer's execution, by procuring a different form of proceſs againſt him.

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

The rumour of this commiſſion ſpread an univerſal alarm. For with regard to the fates of theſe eminent perſons, the expectation of [184]men had now almoſt totally ſubſided: and being renewed, held them doubly attentive; while the exulting papiſt on one ſide, and the deſponding proteſtant on the other, ſtood pre⯑pared to ſee in this ſtroke the completion of their hopes and fears.

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

"This parchment, Mr. Latimer, contains a commiſſion from my lord cardinal, under his holineſs, directed to me and theſe two reverend prelates, by which we are enjoin⯑ed to examine you upon ſome points of faith, in which your orthodoxy is doubted: [185]we are required to preſs you to revoke your errors, if you ſtill hold theſe pernicious opini⯑ons; and to cut you off from the church, if you perſiſt, and give you up to the civil power.

Confider, Mr. Latimer, it is not more than twenty years, ſince theſe novel opinions got footing amongſt us. Till then the au⯑thority of the church of Rome was univer⯑ſally acknowledged. By what means it was firſt queſtioned in England; and on what un⯑juſtifiable motives a ſchiſm was occaſioned, I might eaſily ſhew at large—but I ſpare the dead. Let it ſuffice, that the nation hav⯑ing long ſought reſt in a multiplicity of new inventions, and found none, hath again ſub⯑mitted itſelf to its mother-church; and by one unanimous act, the reſult of penitence and con⯑trition, hath atoned for its apoſtacy. Why then ſhould you oppoſe the unanimity of a whole people? Confeſs your fault, and unite your penitence with theirs. It hath been a common error, let it be a general humiliation. Among ſuch numbers, the ſhame of each in⯑dividual will be loſt. Come then in peace, for we will kindly receive you into the boſom of [186]that church, whoſe authority, derived from the firſt apoſtle, depends on ſcriptures, fa⯑thers, and councils; that church, within which there can be no error, and without which, there can be no ſalvation.

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

Here the biſhop pauſing, Mr. Latimer ſtood up, and thanked him for his gentle treatment of him; but at the ſame time aſ⯑ſured him, how vain it was to expect from him any acknowledgment of the pope. He did not believe, he ſaid, that any ſuch juriſ⯑diction had been given to the ſee of Rome, [187]nor had the biſhops of Rome behaved as if their power had been from God. He then quoted a popiſh book, which had lately been written, to ſhew how groſly the papiſts would miſrepreſent ſcripture: and concluded with ſaying, that he thought the clergy had no⯑thing to do with temporal power, nor ought ever to be intruſted with it: and that their commiſſion from their maſter, in his opinion, extended no farther than to the diſcharge of their paſtoral functions.

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

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

This produced ſome mirth among the au⯑dience, as the biſhop of Glouceſter ſat then upon the bench. That prelate, finding him⯑ſelf thus publicly challenged, roſe up, and addreſſing himſelf to Mr. Latimer, paid him ſome compliments upon his learning, and then ſpoke in vindication of his book. But [188]his zeal carrying him too far, the biſhop of Lincoln interrupting him, ſaid, "We came not here, my lord, to diſpute with Mr. La⯑timer, but to take his anſwer to certain arti⯑cles, which ſhall be propoſed to him."

Theſe articles were much the ſame as thoſe, on which he had been brought to diſpute the year before. They were accordingly read, and Mr. Latimer anſwered them all as he then did; at the ſame time proteſting, which prote⯑ſtation he begged might be regiſtered, that, not⯑withſtanding his anſwers to the pope's com⯑miſſioners, he by no means acknowledged the authority of the pope. The notaries having taken down his anſwers and proteſtation, the biſhop of Lincoln told him, "That as far as he could, he would ſhew lenity to him: that the anſwers which he had now given in, ſhould not be prejudicial to him; but that he ſhould be called upon the next morning, when he might make what alterations he pleaſed; and that he hoped in God, he would then find him in a better temper." To this the old biſhop anſwered, "That he begged, they would do with him then juſt what they pleaſed, and that he might not trouble them, nor they him another day; that as to his opi⯑nions, [189]he was fixed in them; and that any reſpite would be needleſs." The biſhop, how⯑ever, told him, that he muſt appear the next morning; and then diſſolved the aſſembly.

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

"Alas! my lord, anſwered Mr. Latimer, your indulgence is to no purpoſe. When a man is convinced of a truth, even to deliberate is unlawful. I am fully reſolved againſt the church of Rome; and once for all, my an⯑ſwer is, I never will embrace its communion. If you urge me farther, I will reply as St. Cy⯑prian did, on a like occaſion. He ſtood be⯑fore his judges, upon a charge of hereſy: and being aſked which were more probably of [190]the church of Chriſt, he and his party, who were every where deſpiſed, or they, his judges, who were every where in eſteem; he anſwer⯑ed reſolutely, "That Chriſt had decided that point, when he mentioned it as a mark of his diſciples, that they ſhould take up their croſs and follow him." If this then, my lords, be one of the characteriſtics of the Chriſtian church, whether ſhall we denominate by that name, the church of Rome, which hath al⯑ways been a perſecutor, or that ſmall body of chriſtians, which is perſecuted by it?"

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

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

But the biſhop of Lincoln, not caring to have this argument moved any farther, re⯑plied, "That he exceeded his commiſſion in giving leave for any reaſoning or debates: that he had granted this indulgence, in hopes of its ſucceſs; but obſerving a contrary effect, he would not, he ſaid, treſpaſs any longer upon the patience of his audience, by theſe unpro⯑fitable altercations." He proceeded, there⯑fore, immediately to take Mr. Latimer's final [191]anſwer to the articles; which he gave as he had done before; and accompanied with the ſame proteſtation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

SECTION XV.

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

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

While they ſtood before the ſtake, about to [...]epare themſelves for the fire, they were in⯑formed, they muſt firſt hear a ſermon: and ſoon after, Dr. Smith, of whom mention hath already been made, aſcended a pulpit, pre⯑pared for that purpoſe, and preached on theſe [194]words of St. Paul, "Though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it pro⯑fiteth me nothing? In his diſcourſe he treat⯑ed the two biſhops with great inhumanity; aſperſing both their characters and tenets.

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

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

The attention of the ſpectators at length burſt into tears, when they ſaw theſe two ve⯑nerable men now preparing for death. When they conſidered, as Mr. Fox obſerves, their preferments, the places of honour they held in the commonwealth, the favour they ſtood in with their princes, their great learning, and greater piety, they were overwhelmed [195]with ſorrow to ſee ſo much dignity, ſo much honour, ſo much eſtimation, ſo many godly virtues, the ſtudy of ſo many years, and ſo much excellent learning, about to be con⯑ſumed in one moment.

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

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

But I will draw a veil over the concluſion of this ſhocking ſcene; and only add, that he went through his laſt ſufferings with that compoſure, and firmneſs of mind, which no⯑thing but a ſound faith, and a good conſcience could produce.

Such was the life of Hugh Latimer, biſhop of Worceſter; one of the leaders of that glo⯑rious army of martyrs, who introduced the [196]reformation in England. He had a happy temper; formed on the principles of chriſtian philoſophy. Such was his chearfulneſs, that none of the accidents of life could diſcompoſe him. Such was his fortitude, that not even the ſevereſt trials could unman him. He had a collected ſpirit, and on no occaſion wanted a reſource; he could retire within himſelf, and hold the world at defiance.

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

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

How conſcientious he was in the diſcharge of the public parts of his office, we have many examples. No man could perſuade more forcibly: no man could exert, on pro⯑per occaſions, a more commanding ſeverity. The wicked, in whatever ſtation, he rebuked with cenſorian dignity; and awed vice more [197]than the penal laws. He was not eſteemed a very learned man; for he cultivated only uſeful learning; and that, he thought, laid in a very narrow compaſs. He never engaged in worldly affairs, thinking that a clergyman ought to employ himſelf only in his profeſ⯑ſion. Thus he lived rather a good, than what the world calls a great man. He had not thoſe commanding talents, which give ſu⯑periority in buſineſs: but for honeſty and ſincerity of heart, for true ſimplicity of man⯑ners, for apoſtolic zeal in the cauſe of reli⯑gion, and for every virtue both of a public and private kind, that ſhould adorn the life of a chriſtian, he was eminent and exemplary be⯑yond moſt men of his own, or of any other time; well deſerving that evangelical com⯑mendation, "With the teſtimony of a good conſcience, in ſimplicity and godly ſincerity, not with fleſhly wiſdom, but by the grace of God, he had his converſation in the world."