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A. D. 1531.
July.
And ulti-

the party of

tion.

CH. 4. adhered to the old faith, and to whom the measures of the government appeared a sacrilege. Through herself, or through her secretaries and mately of confessors, a correspondence was conducted which insurrec- brought the courts of the continent into connexion with the various disaffected parties in England, with the Nun of Kent and her friars, with the Poles, the Nevilles, the Courtenays, and all the remaining faction of the White Rose. And so first the great party of sedition began to shape itself, which for sixty years, except in the shortlived interlude of its triumph under Catherine's daughter, held the nation on the edge of civil war. We shall see this faction slowly and steadily organizing itself, starting from scattered and small beginnings, till at length it overspread all England and Ireland and Scotland, exploding from time to time in abortive insurrections, yet ever held in check by the tact and firmness of the government, and by the inherent loyalty of the English to the land of their birth. There was a proverb then current that 'the treasons of England should never cease.' '* It was perhaps fortunate that the papal cause was the cause of a foreign power, and could only be defended by a betrayal of the independence of the country. In Scotland and Ireland the insurrectionists were more successful, being supported in either instance by the national feeling. But the strength of Scotland had been broken at Flodden; and Ire

Perilous

position of England.

Also it is a proverb of old date-'The pride of France, the treason of England, and the war of Ireland, shall never have end.' -State Papers, vol. ii. p. 11.

difficulty.

of Henry's

land, though hating' the Saxons' with her whole CH. 4heart, was far off and divided. The true danger A.D.1531. was at home; and when the extent and nature The Tudor of it is fairly known and weighed, we shall understand better what is called the tyranny' of Henry VIII. and of Elizabeth; and rather admire the judgment than condemn the resolution which steered the country safe among those dangerous shoals. Elizabeth's position is more familiar to us, and is more reasonably appreciated because the The success danger was more palpable. Henry has been hardly administra judged because he trampled down the smoulder- tion, by its ing fire, and never allowed it to assume the form ness, has which would have justified him with the foolish condemn and the unthinking. Once and once only the flame blazed out; but it was checked on the instant, and therefore it has been slighted and forgotten. But with despatches before his eyes, in which Charles V. was offering James of Scotland the hand of the Princess Mary, with the title for himself of Prince of England and Duke of York*-with Ireland, as we shall speedily see it, in flame from end to end, and Dublin castle

complete

led us to

him.

There was a secret ambas-
sador with the Scots king from
the emperour, who had long com-
municated with the king alone
in his privy chamber. And after
the ambassador's departure the
king, coming out into his outer
chamber, said to his chancellor
and the Earl Bothwell, My lords,
how much are we bounden unto
the emperour that in the matter
concerning our style, which so | Papers, vol. iv. p. 599.

long he hath set about for our
honour, that shall be by him
discussed on Easter day, and
that we may lawfully write our-
self Prince of England and Duke
of York.' To which the chan-
cellor said, 'I pray God the pope
confirm the same.' The Scots
king answered, 'Let the empe-
rour alone.'-Earl of Northum-
berland to Henry VIII.: State

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A.D. 1531.

What he

was con

tending against.

CH. 4. the one spot left within the island on which the banner of St. George still floated—with a corps of friars in hair shirts and chains, who are also soon to be introduced to us, and an inspired prophetess at their head preaching rebellion in the name of God-with his daughter, and his daughter's mother in league against him, some forty thousand clergy to be coerced into honest dealing, and the succession to the crown floating in uncertainty-finally, with excommunication hanging over himself, and at length falling, and his deposition pronounced, Henry, we may be sure, had no easy time of it, and no common work to accomplish; and all these things ought to be present before our minds, as they were present before his mind, if we would see him as he was, and judge him as we would be judged

the fine for

ourselves.

Leaving disaffection to mature itself, we return to the struggle between the House of Commons and the bishops, which recommenced in the following winter; first pausing to notice a clerical interlude of some illustrative importance which took place in the close of the summer. The The levy of clergy, as we saw, were relieved of their premunire on engaging to pay 118,000 pounds within five years. They were punished for their general offences; the formal offence for which they were condemned being one which could not fairly be considered an offence at all. When they came to discuss therefore the manner in which the money was to be levied, they naturally quarrelled among themselves as to where the burden of the fine

the premunire.

A.D. 1531.

rangements

should fairly rest, and a little scene has been pre- CH. 4. served to us by Hall, through which, with momentary distinctness, we can look in upon those poor men in their perplexity. The bishops had Private arsettled among themselves that each diocese should make its own arrangements; and some of these bishops. great persons intended to spare their own shoulders to the utmost decent extremity. With this object, Stokesley, Bishop of London, who was just then very busy burning heretics, and therefore in bad odour with the people, resolved to call a meeting of five or six of his clergy, on whom he could depend; and passing quietly with their assistance such resolutions as seemed convenient, to avoid in this way the more doubtful expedient of a large assembly.

and Sept. 1. Sep- the Chap

The
un-

The necessary intimations were given, the meeting was to be held on the 1st of tember, in the Chapter-house of St. Paul's. bishop arrived at the time appointed, but happily for his hopes, not only the chosen six, but with them six hundred of the clergy of Middlesex, accompanied by a mob of the London citizens, all gathered in a crowd at the Chapterhouse door, and clamouring to be admitted.

Meeting at

ter-house of St. Paul's.

The bishop, trusting in the strength of the chains and bolts, and still hoping to manage the affair officially, sent out a list of persons who might be allowed to take part in the proceedings, and these with difficulty made their way to the entrance. A rush was made by the others as An indecothey were going in, and there was a scuffle, which ceeding. ended for the moment in the victory of the

rous pro

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The bishop

with the

silver tongue.

officials: but the triumph was of brief duration; the excluded clergy were now encouraged by the people; they returned vigorously to the attack, broke down the doors, struck the bishop's officers over the face,' and the whole crowd, priests and laity, rushed together, storming and shouting, into the Chapter-house. The scene may be easily imagined; dust flying, gowns torn, heads broken, well-fed faces in the hot September weather steaming with anger and exertion, and every voice in loudest outcry. At length the clamour was partially subdued, and the bishop, beautifully equal to the emergency, arose bland and persuasive.

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My brethren,' he said, 'I marvel not a little why ye be so heady. Ye know not what shall be said to you, therefore I pray you keep silence, and hear me patiently. My friends, ye all know that we be men, frail of condition and no angels; and by frailty and lack of wisdom we have misdemeaned ourselves towards the king our sovereign lord and his laws; so that all we of the clergy were in premunire, by reason whereof all our promotions, lands, goods, and chattels were to him forfeit, and our bodies ready to be imprisoned. Yet his Grace, moved with pity and compassion, demanded of us what we could say why he should not extend his laws upon us.

Then the fathers of the clergy humbly besought his Grace for mercy, to whom he answered he was ever inclined to mercy. Then for all our great offences we had but little penance; for when he might, by the rigour of his laws,

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