Europe was startled by the news that Rome had been stormed by the Imperial army, that the Pope was imprisoned, the churches pillaged, the cardinals insulted, and all holiest things polluted and profaned... A spectator, judging only by outward symptoms, would have seen at that strange crisis in Charles V. the worst patron of heresy, and the most dangerous enemy of the Holy See; while the indignation with which the news of these outrages was received at the English court would have taught him to look on Henry as the one sovereign in Europe on whom that See might calculate most surely for support in its hour of danger... If he could have pierced below the surface, he would have found that the Pope's best friend was the prince who held him prisoner; that Henry was but doubtfully acquiescing in the policy of an unpopular minister; and that the English nation would have looked on with stoical indignation if Pope and Papacy had been wrecked together. They were not inclined to heresy; but the ecclesiastical system was not the catholic faith; and this system, ruined by prosperity, was fast pressing its excesses to the extreme limit, beyond which it could not be endured... Wolsey talked of reformation, but delayed its coming; and in the mean. time, the persons to be reformed showed no fear that it would come at all. monasteries grew worse and worse. The people were taught only what they could teach themselves. The consistory courts became more oppressive. Pluralities multiplied, and non-residence and profligacy... Favored parish clergy held as many as eight benefices. Bishops accumulated sees, and unable to attend to all, attended to none. Wolsey himself, the church reformer (so little did he really know what a reformation meant), was at once Archbishop of York, Bishop of Winchester, of Bath, and of Durham, and Abbot of St. Albans... Under such circumstances, we need not be surprised to find the clergy sunk low in the respect of the English people. Sternly intolerant of each other's faults, the laity were not likely to be indulgent to the vices of men who ought to have set an example of purity; and from time to time during the first quarter of the century, there were explosions of temper which might have served as a warning if any sense or judgment had been left to profit by it. Froude.

The

DEATH OF CARDINAL WOLSEY.

WOLSEY had been dismissed from court, and had retired to his palace at Cawood previous to his installation at York as arch

The

bishop. He was suddenly arrested on a charge of high treason by the Earl of Northumberland, and was forced to set out for the metropolis. Very soon the Cardinal fell ill; and it is evident, from the cautions observed, that those about him suspected that he intended to poison himself...Ill as he was, the Earl of Shrewsbury put the fallen man under the charge of Sir William Kingston, the Lieutenant of the Tower, whom the King had sent for the Cardinal, with twenty-four of his guard, and with this escort he departed on his last journey. And the next day he took his journey with Master Kingston and the guard. "And as soon as they had espied their old master in such a lamentable estate, they lamented him with weeping eyes... Whom my lord took by the hands, and divers times, by the way as he rode, he would talk with them, sometime with one and sometime with another; at night he was lodged at a house of the Earl of Shrewsbury's, called Hardwick Hall, very evil at ease. next day he rode to Nottingham, and there lodged that night more sicker, and the next day he rode to Leicester Abbey; and by the way he waxed so sick, that he was divers times likely to have fallen from his mule, and being night before we came to the Abbey of Leicester, at his coming in at the gates the abbot of the place and all his convent met him with the light of many torches; and whom they right honorably received with great reverence... To whom my lord said, 'Father Abbot, I am come hither to leave my bones among you;' whom they brought on his mule to the stairs' foot of his chamber, and there alighted, and Master Kingston then took him by the arm, and led him up the stairs, who told me afterwards that he never carried so heavy a burden in all his life... And as soon as he was in his chamber, he went incontinent to his bed, very sick. This was upon Saturday, at night, and there he continued sicker and sicker." The narrative then goes on to exhibit a long speech of the Cardinal against "this new pernicious sect of Lutherans."... At last Wolsey said, "Master Kingston, farewell; I can no more, but wish all things to have good success. My time draweth on fast, I may not tarry with you. And forget not, I pray you, what I have said and charged you withal; for when I am dead, ye shall peradventure remember my words much better." And even with these words he began to draw his speech at length, and his tongue to fail; whose eyes being set in his head, whose sight failed him... Then we began to put him in remembrance of Christ's passion, and sent for the abbot to anneal him, who came with all speed and ministered unto him all the service to the same belonging; and caused also the guard to stand by, both to hear him talk before his death, and

also to witness of the same; and incontinent the clock struck eight, at which time he gave up the ghost, and thus departed he this present life... And calling to our remembrance his words the day before, how he said that at eight of the clock we should lose our master, one of us looking upon another, supposing that he prophesied of his departure... Here is the end of pride and arrogancy of such men, exalted by fortune to honors and high dignities; for I assure you, in his time of authority and glory, he was the haughtiest man in his proceedings that then lived, having more respect to the worldly honor of his person than he had to his spiritual profession: wherein should be all meekness, humility, and charity; the process whereof I leave to them that be learned and seen in divine laws.” Cavendish,

SIR THOMAS MORE.

IN the month of November, 1534, parliament passed a variety of acts, which had for their object the creating Henry VIII. into a sort of lay-pope, with full power to define and punish heresies, and to support what he deemed the true belief, or the proper system of church government. The first fruits and tenths were now annexed to the crown for ever, and a new oath of supremacy was devised and taken by the bishops.

On all those conscientious men who preferred death to what they considered a breach of their duty as Catholic priests, the horrible sentence of the law was executed in all its particulars. They were cut down alive, had their bowels torn out, and were then beheaded and dismembered. They suffered on account of the oath of supremacy; but between the executions there was an atrocious interlude of a doctrinal nature.

Greater victims were now stricken; for, in the execution of his rigid policy, Henry had resolved to shed the blood of Fisher and of More. Both these illustrious men became close prisoners in the tower. The aged bishop was put upon his trial for having maliciously and traitorously said that the king could not, in spiritual matters, be the head of the Church.

SIR THOMAS MORE was asked whether he would obey the king's highness as supreme head on earth, immediately under Christ, of the Church of England, and him so repute, take, accept, and recognise, according to the statute. To this he said that he could make no answer... He was next asked whether he could consent and approve the king's marriage with the most noble Queen Anne to be good and lawful, and affirm that the marriage with the Lady Catherine, Princess Dowager, was and is

unjust and unlawful. He replied, that he did never speak nor meddle against the same, but that he would make no further answer... Finally, they demanded whether he, being one of the king's subjects, was not bound to recognise the supremacy as all other subjects were bound thereto by the statute. He replied again that he could make no answer.

Before this he had said, in an affecting letter, "I am the king's true faithful subject and daily beadsman. I pray for his highness, and all his, and all the realm. I do nothing harm; I say no harm, I think none harm, and wish everybody good; and if this be not enough to keep a man alive, in good faith I long not to live. I am dying already; and, since I came here, have been divers times in the case that I thought to die within one hour. And I thank our Lord I was never sorry for it, but rather sorry when I saw the pang passed; and, therefore, my poor body is at the king's pleasure. Would to God my death might do him good!"... At length, after a year's most trying imprisonment, he was brought out of the Tower, led on foot through the crowded streets to Westminster Hall, and there arraigned on a charge of high treason. He appeared in that court, where he had once presided as an upright judge, in a coarse woollen gown, bearing on him frightful evidences of a rigorous confinement... His hair had become white, his face was pallid and emaciated, and he was obliged to support himself on a staff. But the mind was much less bowed and bent, and some of his old wit and vivacity soon lighted upon his sunken eye; and his judges dreaded his eloquence, and the sympathy which the mere sight of him excited... They attempted to overpower and confound him with the length and wordiness of the indictment. But after declining an offer of pardon, upon condition of doing the king's will, he entered upon a clear and eloquent defence, stripping the clauses of their false coverings, and exposing them in their nakedness and nothingness... He maintained that neither by word nor deed had he done anything against the king's marriage with Anne Boleyn; he had indeed disapproved of that business, but he had never expressed this disapprobation to any other person than the king, who had commanded him on his allegiance, to give his real opinion. As to his having sought to deprive the king of his new title of Supreme Head of the Church, he said that all that he had done was to be silent thereon, and that silence was not treason... But his doom was fixed by those who had put themselves above all law or scruples of conscience. The infamous Rich, the solicitor-general, deposed that, in a private conversation he had had with the

prisoner in the Tower, More said: "The parliament cannot make the king the head of the church, because it is a civil tribunal, without authority in spiritual matters "... More denied that he had spoken these words; and he remarked upon the character which Rich had borne in the world, and which was so bad as to render even his oath unworthy of belief. Two witnesses were produced to support the charge made by Rich; but in their case conscience got the better of authority, and they declared that, though they were in the room, they did not рау attention to what was said.

The judges laid it down as a law that silence was treason, and the jury without any hesitation returned a verdict of guilty. When sentence had been pronounced, More rose to address the court. He was coarsely interrupted. He tried again, and was again interrupted; but on a third attempt he was allowed to proceed... He told them that what he had hitherto concealed, he would now openly declare, and he boldly proclaimed that the oath of supremacy was utterly unlawful. He regretted to differ from the noble lords whom he saw on the bench, but his conscience would not permit him to do otherwise. He declared he had no animosity against them; and that he hoped that, even as St. Paul was present and consented to the death of Stephen, and yet was afterwards a companion saint in heaven, so they and he should meet together hereafter. "And so," he concluded, "may God preserve you all, and especially my lord the king, and send him good counsel! ... As he moved from the bar, his son rushed through the hall, fell upon his knees, and begged his blessing. With the axe turned towards him, he walked back to the Tower, amid a commiserating throng of citizens...On reaching the Tower-wharf, his dear daughter, Margaret Roper, forced her way through the officers and halberdiers that surrounded him, clasped him round the neck, and sobbed aloud. Sir Thomas consoled her, and she collected sufficient power to bid him farewell for ever; but as her father moved on, she again rushed through the crowd, and threw herself upon his neck... Here the weakness of nature overcame him, and he wept as he repeated his blessing and his Christian consolation. The people wept too; and his guards were so much affected, that they could hardly summon up resolution to separate the father and daughter... After this trial the anguish of death was passed. The old man's wit flashed brightly in his last moments. When told that the king had mercifully commuted the hanging, drawing, and quartering to simple decapitation, he said, "God preserve all my friends from such royal favors!"... This happy vein accompanied him to the