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“LIGHT FROM OLD TIMES”
[1902 edition]
BY
BISHOP J. C. RYLE D.D.
WHY WERE OUR REFORMERS BURNED?
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HERE are certain facts in history which the world tries
hard to forget and ignore. These facts get in the way of some of the world’s
favourite theories, and are highly inconvenient. The consequence is that the
world shuts its eyes against them. They are either cut dead as vulgar
intruders, or passed by as tiresome bores. Little by little they sink out of
sight of the students of history, like ships in a distant horizon, or are left
behind like a luggage train in a siding. Of such facts the subject of this paper
is a vivid example: The Burning of our
English Reformers; and the Reason why they were Burned.”
qIt
is fashionable in some quarters to deny that there is any such thing as
certainty about religious truth, or any opinions for which it is worth while to
be burned. Yet, 300 years ago, there were men who were certain they had found
out truth, and were content to die for their opinions. It is fashionable in other quarters to leave
out all the unpleasant things in history, and to paint everything with a rose-coloured
hue. A very popular history of our English Queens hardly mentions the
martyrdoms of Queen Mary’s days! Yet Mary was not called “Bloody Mary” without
reason, and scores of Protestants were burned in her reign. Last, but not least, it is thought very bad
taste in many quarters to say anything which throws discredit on the Church of
Rome. Yet it is as certain that the Romish Church burned our English Reformers
as it is that William the Conqueror won the battle of Hastings. These
difficulties meet me face to face as I walk up to the subject which I wish to
unfold in this paper. I know their magnitude, and I cannot evade them. I only
ask my readers to give me a patient and indulgent hearing.
After
all, I have great confidence in the honesty of Englishmen’s minds. Truth is
truth, however long it may be neglected. Facts are facts, however long they may
lie buried. I only want to dig up some old facts which the sands of time have
covered over, to bring to the light of day some old English monuments which have
been long neglected, to unstop some old wells which the prince of this world
has been diligently filling with earth. I ask my readers to give me their
attention for a few minutes, and I trust to be able to show them that it is
good to examine the question, “Why were our Reformers burned?”
I.
The broad facts of the martyrdom of our Reformers
are a story well known and soon told. But it may be useful to give a brief
outline of these facts, in order to supply a framework to our subject.
Edward
VI., “that incomparable young prince,” as Bishop Burnet justly calls him, died
on the 6th July, 1553. Never, perhaps, did any royal personage in
this land die more truly lamented, or leave behind him a fairer reputation.
Never, perhaps, to man’s poor fallible judgment, did the cause of God’s truth
in England receive a heavier blow. His last prayer before death ought not to be forgotten, “O Lord
God, defend this realm from papistry, and maintain Thy true religion.” It was a
prayer, I believe, not offered in vain.
After a
foolish and deplorable effort to obtain the crown for Lady Jane Grey, Edward
was succeeded by his eldest sister, Mary, daughter of Henry VIII. and his first
Queen, Catherine of Aragon, and best known in English history by the ill-omened
name of “Bloody Mary.” Mary had been brought up from her infancy as a rigid
adherent of the Romish Church. She was, in fact, a very Papist of Papists,
conscientious, zealous, bigoted, and narrow-minded in the extreme. She began at
once to pull down her brother’s work in every possible way, and to restore
Popery in its worst and most offensive forms. Step by step she and her
councillors marched back to Rome, trampling down one by one every obstacle, and
as thorough as Lord Stratford in going
straight forward to their mark. The Mass was restored; the English service was
taken away; the works of Luther, Zwingle, Calvin, Tyndale, Bucer, Latimer,
Hooper, and Cranmer were proscribed. Cardinal Pole was invited to England. The
foreign Protestants resident in England were banished. The leading divines of
the Protestant Church of England were deprived of their offices, and, while
some escaped to the Continent, many were put in prison. The old statutes
against heresy were once more brought forward, primed and loaded. And thus by
the beginning of 1555 the stage was cleared, and that bloody tragedy, in which
Bishops Bonner and Gardiner played so prominent a part, was ready to begin.
For,
unhappily for the credit of human nature, Mary’s advisers were not content with
depriving and imprisoning the leading English Reformers. It was resolved to
make them abjure their principles, or to put them to death. One by one they
were called before special Commissions, examined about their religious
opinions, and called upon to recant, on pain of death ii they refused. No third
course, no alternative was left to them. They were either to give up
Protestantism and receive Popery, or else they were to be burned alive.
Refusing to recant, they were one by one handed over to the secular power,
publicly brought out and chained to stakes, publicly surrounded with faggots,
and publicly sent out of the world by that most cruel and painful of
deaths,—the death by fire. All these are broad facts which all the apologists
of Rome can never gainsay or deny.
It
is a broad fact that during the four last years of Queen Mary’s reign no less
than 288 persons were
burnt at the stake for their adhesion to the Protestant faith.
There were burnt in 1555 71
1556 89
1557 88
1558 40
_____
2881
Indeed,
the faggots never ceased to blaze whilst Mary was alive, and five martyrs were
burnt in Canterbury only a week before her death. Out of these 288 sufferers,
be it remembered, one was an archbishop, four were bishops, twenty-one were
clergymen, fifty-five were women, and four were children.
It is a broad
fact that these 288 sufferers were not put to death for any offence against
property or person. They were not rebels against the Queen’s authority, caught
red-handed in arms. They were not thieves, or murderers, or drunkards, or
unbelievers, or men and women of immoral lives. On the contrary, they were,
with barely an exception, some of the holiest, purest, and best Christians in
England, and several of them the most learned men of their day.
I might say
much about the gross injustice and unfairness with which they were treated at
their various examinations. Their trials, if indeed they can be called trials, were
a mere mockery of justice. I might say
much about the abominable cruelty with which most of them were treated, both in
prison and at the stake. But you must read Fox’s Martyrs on these
points. I make no comment on the stupid
impolicy of the whole persecution. Never did Rome do herself such irreparable
damage as she did in Mary’s reign. Even unlearned people, who could not argue
much, saw clearly that a Church which committed such horrible bloodshed could
hardly be the one true Church of Christ!2 But I have no time for all this. I
must conclude this general sketch of this part of my subject with two short
remarks.
For one thing,
I ask my readers never to forget that for the burning of our Reformers the
Church of Rome is wholly and entirely responsible. The attempt to transfer the
responsibility from the Church to the secular power is a miserable and
dishonest subterfuge. The men of Judah did not slay Samson; but they delivered
him bound into the hands of the Philistines! The Church of Rome did not slay
the Reformers; but she condemned them, and the secular power executed the
condemnation! The precise measure of responsibility which ought to be meted out
to each of Rome’s agents in the matter is a point that I do not care to settle.
Miss Strickland, in her “Lives of the Queens of England,” has tried in vain to
shift the blame from unhappy Mary. With all the zeal of a woman, she has
laboured hard to whitewash her character. The reader of her biography will find
little about martyrdoms. But it will not do. Mr. Froude’s volume tells a very
different tale. The Queen, and her Council, and the Parliament, and the Popish
Bishops, and Cardinal Pole, must be content to share the responsibility among
them. One thing alone is very certain. They will never succeed in shifting the
responsibility off the shoulders of the Church of Rome. Like the Jews and
Pontius Pilate, when our Lord was crucified, all parties must bear the blame.
THE BLOOD is upon them all.
For another
thing, I wish my readers to remember that the burning of the Marian martyrs is
an act that the Church of Rome has never repudiated, apologised for, or
repented of, down to the present day. There stands the huge blot on her
escutcheon; and there stands the huge fact side by side, that she never made
any attempt to wipe it away. Never has she repented of her treatment of the
Vaudois and the Albigenses;—never has she repented of the wholesale murders of
the Spanish Inquisition;—never has she repented of the massacre of St.
Bartholomew;—never has she repented of the burning of the English Reformers. We
should make a note of that fact, and let it sink down into our minds. Rome never changes. Rome will never admit that she has made
mistakes. She burned our English Reformers 300 years ago. She tried hard to
stamp out by violence the Protestantism which she could not prevent spreading
by arguments. If Rome had only the power, I am not sure that she would not
attempt to play the whole game over again.
II. The
question may now arise in our minds, Who
were the leading English Reformers that
were burned? What were their names, and what were the circumstances attending
their deaths? These are questions which may very properly be asked, and
questions to which I proceed at once to give an answer.
In this part
of my paper I am very sensible that I shall seem to many to go over old ground.
But I am bold to say that it is ground which ought often to be gone over. I,
for one, want the names of our martyred Reformers to be “Household Words” in
every Protestant family throughout the land. I shall, therefore, make no
apology for giving the names of the nine principal English martyrs in the
chronological order of their deaths, and for supplying you with a few facts
about each of them. Never, I believe, since Christ left the world, did
Christian men ever meet a cruel death with such glorious faith, and hope, and
patience, as these Marian martyrs. Never did dying men leave behind them such a
rich store of noble sayings, sayings which deserve to be written in golden
letters in our histories, and handed down to our children’s children.
(1) John
Rogers
The first leading English
Reformer who broke the ice and crossed the river, as a martyr in Mary’s reign,
was John Rogers, a London Minister, Vicar of St.
Sepulchre’s, and Prebendary and Reader of Divinity at St. Paul’s. He was burned
in Smithfield on Monday, the 4th of February, 1555. Rogers was born
at Defttend, in the parish of Aston, near Birmingham. He was a man who, in one
respect, had done more for the cause of Protestantism than any of his
fellow-sufferers. In saying this I refer to the fact that he had assisted
Tyndale and Coverdale in bringing out a most important version of the English
Bible, a version commonly known as Matthews’ Bible. Indeed, he was condemned as
“Rogers, alias Matthews.” This circumstance, in
all human probability, made him a marked man, and was one cause why he was the
first who was brought to the stake.
Rogers’ examination
before Gardiner gives us the idea of his being a bold, thorough Protestant, who
had fully made up his mind on all points of the Romish controversy, and was
able to give a reason for his opinions. At any rate, he seems to have silenced
and abashed his examiners even more than most of the martyrs did. But argument,
of course, went for nothing. “Woe to the conquered!” If he had the word, his
enemies had the sword.3
On the morning
of his martyrdom he was roused hastily in his cell in Newgate, and hardly
allowed time to dress himself. He was then led forth to Smithfield on foot,
within sight of the Church of St. Sepulchre, where he had preached, and through
the streets of the parish where he had done the work of a pastor. By the
wayside stood his wife and ten children (one a baby) whom Bishop Bonner, in his
diabolical cruelty, had flatly refused him leave to see in prison. He just saw
them, but was hardly allowed to stop, and then walked on calmly to the stake,
repeating the 51st Psalm. An immense crowd lined the street, and
filled every available spot in Smithfield. Up to that day men could not tell
how English Reformers would behave in the face of death, and could hardly
believe that Prebendaries and Dignitaries would actually give their bodies to
be burned for their religion. But when they saw John Rogers, the first martyr,
walking steadily and unflinchingly into a fiery grave, the enthusiasm of the
crowd knew no bounds. They rent the air with thunders of applause. Even
Noailles, the French Ambassador, wrote home a description of the scene, and
said that Rogers went to death “as if he was walking to his wedding.” By God’s
great mercy he died with comparative ease. And so the first Marian martyr
passed away.
(2) John Hooper
The second leading Reformer who
died for Christ’s truth in Mary’s reign was John
Hooper, Bishop of Gloucester.
He was burned at Gloucester on Friday, the 9th of February, 1555.
Hooper was a
Somersetshire man by birth. In many respects he was, perhaps, the noblest
martyr of them all. Of all Edward the Sixth’s bishops, none has left behind him
a higher reputation for personal holiness, and diligent preaching and working
in his diocese. None, judging from his literary remains, had clearer and more
Scriptural views on all points in theology. Some might say that Edward the
Sixth’s Bishop of Gloucester was too Calvinistic; but he was not more so than
the Thirty-Nine Articles. Hooper was a far-sighted man, and saw the danger of
leaving nest-eggs for Romanism in the Church of England. In his famous dispute
with Cranmer and the other bishops about wearing Romish vestments at his
consecration, it has been, I know, the fashion to condemn him as too stiff and
unbending. I say boldly that the subsequent history of our Church makes it
doubtful whether we ought not to reverse our verdict. The plain truth is, that in principle Hooper was
right, and his opponents were wrong.
A man like
Hooper, firm, stem, not naturally genial, unbending and unsparing in his
denunciation of sin, was sure to have many enemies. He was one of the first
marked for destruction as soon as Popery was restored. He was summoned to
London at a very early stage of the Marian persecution, and, after lingering
eighteen months in prison, and going through the form of examination by Bonner,
Gardiner, Tunstall, and Day, was degraded from his office, and sentenced to be
burned as a heretic.
At first it
was fully expected that he would suffer in Smithfield with Rogers. This plan,
for some unknown reason, was given up, and to his great satisfaction Hooper was
sent down to Gloucester, and burnt in his own diocese, and in sight of his own
cathedral. On his arrival there, he was received with every sign of sorrow and
respect by a vast multitude, who went out on the Cirencester Road to meet him,
and was lodged for the night in the house of a Mr. Ingrain, which is still
standing, and probably not much altered. There Sir Anthony Kingston, whom the
good Bishop had been the means of converting from a sinful life, entreated him,
with many tears, to spare himself, and urged him to remember that “Life was
sweet, and death was bitter.” To this the noble martyr returned this memorable
reply, that “Eternal life was more sweet, and eternal death was more bitter.”
On the morning
of his martyrdom he was led forth, walking, to the place of execution, where an
immense crowd awaited him. It was market-day; and it was reckoned that nearly
700o people were present. The stake was planted directly in front of the
western gate of the Cathedral-close, and within 100 yards of the deanery and
the east front of the Cathedral. The exact spot is marked now by a beautiful
memorial at the east end of the churchyard of St. Mary-de-Lode. The window over
the gate, where Popish friars watched the Bishop’s dying agonies, stands
unaltered to this day.
When Hooper
arrived at this spot, he was allowed to pray, though strictly forbidden to
speak to the people. And there he knelt down, and prayed a prayer which has
been preserved and recorded by Fox, and is of exquisitely touching character.
Even then a box was put before him containing a full pardon, if he would only
recant. His only answer was, “Away with it; if you love my soul, away with it!”
He was then fastened to the stake by an iron round his waist, and fought his
last fight with the king of terrors. Of all the martyrs, none perhaps, except
Ridley, suffered more than Hooper did. Three times the faggots had to be
lighted, because they would not burn properly. Three quarters of an hour the
noble sufferer endured the mortal agony, as Fox says, “neither moving backward,
forward, nor to any side,” but only praying, “Lord Jesus, have mercy on me; Lord
Jesus, receive my spirit;” and beating his breast with one hand till it was
burned to a stump. And so the good Bishop of Gloucester passed away.
(3) Rowland Taylor
The third leading Reformer who
suffered in Mary’s reign was Rowland
Taylor, Rector of Hadleigh,
in Suffolk. He was burned on Aldham Common, close to his own parish, the same
day that Hooper died at Gloucester, on Friday, the 9th February, I555.
Rowland Taylor
is one of whom we know little, except that he was a great friend of Cranmer,
and a doctor of divinity and canon law. But that he was a man of high standing
among the Reformers is evident, from his being ranked by his enemies with
Hooper, Rogers, and Bradford; and that he was an exceedingly able and ready
divine is clear from his examination, recorded by Fox. Indeed, there is hardly
any of the sufferers about whom the old Martyrologist has gathered together so
many touching and striking things. One might think he was a personal friend.
Striking was
the reply which he made to his friends at Hadleigh, who urged him to flee, as
he might have done, when he was first summoned to appear in London before
Gardiner:
“What will ye have me to do? I am old, and
have already lived too long to see these terrible and most wicked days. Fly
you, and do as your conscience leadeth you. I am fully determined, with God’s
grace, to go to this Bishop and tell him to his beard that he doth naught. I
believe before God that I shall never be able to do for my God such good
service as I may do now.”—Fox’s
“Acts and Monuments,” vol. iii. p. 138.
Striking were
the replies which he made to Gardiner and his other examiners. None spoke more
pithily, weightily, and powerfully than did this Suffolk incumbent.
Striking and
deeply affecting was his last testament and legacy of advice to his wife, his
family, and parishioners, though far too long to be inserted here, excepting
the last sentence: —
“For God’s sake beware of Popery: for though
it appear to have in it unity, yet the same is vanity and Antichristianity, and
not in Christ’s faith and verity.” Fox’s
“Acts and Monuments,” vol. iii. p. 144.
He was sent
down from London to Hadleigh, to his great delight, to be burned before the
eyes of his parishioners. When he got within two miles of Hadleigh, the Sheriff
of Suffolk asked him how he felt. “God be praised, Master Sheriff,” was his
reply, “never better. For now I am almost at home. I lack but just two stiles
to go over, and I am even at my Father’s house.”
As he rode
through the streets of the little town of Hadleigh, he found them lined with
crowds of his parishioners, who had heard of his approach, and came out of
their houses to greet him with many tears and lamentations. To them he only
made one constant address, “I have preached to you God’s Word and truth, and am
come this day to seal it with my blood.”
On coming to
Aldham Common, where he was to suffer, they told him where he was. Then he said
“Thank God, I am even at home.”
When he was
stripped to his shirt and ready for the stake, he said, with a loud voice, ”Good
people, I have taught you nothing but God’s Holy Word, and those lessons that I
have taken out of the Bible; and I am come hither to seal it with my blood.” He
would probably have said more, but, like all the other martyrs, he was strictly
forbidden to speak, and even now was struck violently on the head for saying
these few words. He then knelt down and prayed, a poor woman of the parish
insisting, in spite of every effort to prevent her, in kneeling down with him.
After this, he was chained to the stake, and repeating the 51st Psalm, and
crying to God, “Merciful Father, for Jesus Christ’s sake, receive my soul into
Thy hands,” stood quietly amidst the flames without crying or moving, till one
of the guards dashed out his brains with a halberd. And so this good old
Suffolk incumbent passed away.
(4) Robert Ferrar
The fourth leading Reformer who
,suffered in Mary’s reign was Robert
Ferrar, Bishop of St.
David’s, in Wales. He was burned at Carmarthen on Friday, the 30th March,
1555. Little is known of this good man beyond the fact that he was born at
Halifax, and was the last Prior of Nostel, in Yorkshire, an office which he
surrendered in 1540. He was also Chaplain to Archbishop Cranmer and to the
Protector Somerset, and to this influence he owed his elevation to the
Episcopal bench. He was first imprisoned for various trivial and ridiculous
charges on temporal matters, in the latter days of Edward the Sixth, after the
fall of the Protector Somerset, and afterwards was brought before Gardiner,
with Hooper, Rogers, and Bradford, on the far more serious matter of his
doctrine. The articles exhibited against him clearly show that in all questions
of faith he was of one mind with his fellow-martyrs. Like Hooper and Taylor, he
was condemned to be burned in the place where he was best known, and was sent down
from London to Carmarthen. What happened there at his execution is related very
briefly by Fox, partly, no doubt, because of the great distance of Carmarthen
from London in those pre-railways days; partly, perhaps, because most of those
who saw Ferrar burned could speak nothing but Welsh. One single fact is
recorded which shows the good Bishop’s courage and constancy in a striking
light. He had told a friend before the day of execution that if he saw him once
stir in the fire from the pain of his burning, he need not believe the
doctrines he had taught. When the awful time came, he did not forget his
promise, and, by God’s grace, he kept it well. He stood in the flames holding
out his hands till they were burned to stumps, until a bystander in mercy struck
him on the head, and put an end to his sufferings. And so the Welsh Bishop
passed away.
(5) John Bradford
The fifth leading Reformer who
suffered in Mary’s reign was John
Bradford, Prebendary of St.
Paul’s, and Chaplain to Bishop Ridley. He was burned in Smithfield on Monday,
July the 1st, 1555, at the early age of thirty-five. Few of the English
martyrs, perhaps, are better known than Bradford, and none certainly deserve
better their reputation. Strype calls Bradford, Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer,
the “four prime pillars” of the Reformed Church of England. He was by birth a
Manchester man, and to the end of his life retained a strong interest in the
district with which he was connected. At an early age his high talents
commended him to the notice of men in high quarters, and he was appointed one
of the six royal chaplains who were sent about England to preach up the
doctrines of the Reformation. Bradford’s commission was to preach in Lancashire
and Cheshire, and he seems to have performed his duty with singular ability and
success. He preached constantly in Manchester, Liverpool, Bolton, Bury, Wigan,
Ashton, Stockport, Prestwich, Middleton, and Chester, with great benefit to the
cause of Protestantism, and with great effect on men’s souls. The consequence
was what might have been expected. Within a month of Queen Mary’s accession
Bradford was in prison, and never left it until he was burned. His youth, his
holiness, and his extraordinary reputation as a preacher, made him an object of
great interest during his imprisonment, and immense efforts were made to
pervert him from the Protestant faith. All these efforts, however, were in
vain. As he lived, so he died.4
On the day of
his execution he was led out from Newgate to Smithfield about nine o’clock in
the morning, amid such a crowd of people as was never seen either before or
after. A Mrs. Honeywood, who lived to the age of ninety-six, and died about
1620, remembered going to see him burned, and her shoes being trodden off by
the crowd. Indeed, when he came to the stake the Sheriffs of London were so
alarmed at the press that they would not allow him and his fellow-sufferer,
Leaf, to pray as long as they wished. “Arise,” they said, “and make an end; for
the press of the people is great.”
“At that word,” says Fox, “they both stood up
upon their feet, and then Master Bradford took a faggot in his hands and kissed
it, and so likewise the stake.” When he came to the stake he held up his hands,
and, looking up to heaven, said, “O England, England, repent thee of thy sins!
Beware of idolatry; beware of false Antichrists l Take heed they do not deceive
you!” After that he turned to the young man Leaf, who suffered with him, and
said, “Be of good comfort, brother; for we shall have a merry supper with the
Lord this night.” After that he spoke no more that man could hear, excepting
that he embraced the reeds, and said, “Strait is the gate, and narrow is the
way, that leadeth to eternal life, and few there be that find it.” “He embraced
the flames,” says Fuller, “as a fresh gale of wind in a hot summer day.” And
so, in the prime of life, he passed away.
(6, 7) Nicholas Ridley and Hugh Latimer
The sixth and seventh leading
Reformers who suffered in Mary’s reign were two whose names are familiar to
every Englishman, Nicholas
Ridley, Bishop of London, and Hugh Latimer, once Bishop of Worcester. They
were both burned at Oxford, back to back, at one stake, on the 16th of October,
I555. Ridley was born at Willimondswike, in Northumberland, on the borders.
Latimer was born at Thurcaston, in Leicestershire. The history of these two
great English Protestants is so well known to most people that I need not say
much about it. Next to Cranmer, there can be little doubt that no two men did
so much to bring about the establishment of the principles of the Reformation
in England. Latimer, as an extraordinary popular preacher, and Ridley, as a
learned man and an admirable manager of the Metropolitan diocese of London,
have left behind them reputations which never have been passed. As a matter of
course, they were among the first that Bonner and Gardiner struck at when Mary
came to the throne, and were persecuted with relentless severity until their
deaths.
How they were
examined again and again by Commissioners about the great points in controversy
between Protestants and Rome, how they were shamefully baited, teased, and
tortured by every kind of unfair and unreasonable dealing, how they gallantly
fought a good fight to the end, and never gave way for a moment to their
adversaries, all these are matters with which I need not trouble my readers.
Are they not all fairly chronicled in the pages of good old Fox? I will only
mention a few circumstances connected with their deaths.
On the day of
their martyrdom they were brought separately to the place of execution, which
was at the end of Broad Street, Oxford, close to Balliol College. Ridley
arrived on the ground first, and seeing Latimer come afterwards, ran to him and
kissed him, saying, “Be of good heart, brother; for God will either assuage the
fury of the flames, or else strengthen us to abide it.” They then prayed
earnestly, and talked with one another, though no one could hear what they
said. After this they had to listen to a sermon by a wretched renegade divine
named Smith, and, being forbidden to make any answer, were commanded to make
ready for death.
Ridley’s last
words before the fire was lighted were these,”Heavenly Father, I give Thee most
hearty thanks that Thou hast called me to a profession of Thee even unto death.
I beseech Thee, Lord God, have mercy on this realm of England, and deliver the
same from all her enemies.” Latimer’s last words were like the blast of a
trumpet, which rings even to this day,”Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, and
play the man; we shall this day, by God’s grace, light such a candle in England
as I trust shall never be put out.”
When the
flames began to rise, Ridley cried out with a loud voice in Latin, “Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my
spirit: Lord, receive my spirit,” and afterwards repeated these last words in
English. Latimer cried as vehemently on the other side of the stake, “Father of
heaven, receive my soul.”
Latimer soon
died. An old man, above eighty years of age, it took but little to set his
spirit free from its earthly tenement. Ridley suffered long and painfully, from
the bad management of the fire by those who attended the execution. At length,
however, the flames reached a vital part of him, and he fell at Latimer’s feet,
and was at rest. And so the two great Protestant bishops passed away. “They
were lovely and beautiful in their lives, and in death they were not divided.”
(8) John Philpot
The eighth leading English
Reformer who suffered in Mary’s reign was John
Philpot, Archdeacon of Winchester.
He was burned in Smithfield on Wednesday, December the 18th, 1555. Philpot is
one of the martyrs of whom we know little comparatively, except that he was
born at Compton, in Hampshire, was of good family, and well connected, and had
a very high reputation for learning. The mere fact that at the beginning of
Mary’s reign he was one of the leading champions of Protestantism in the mock
discussions which were held in Convocation, is sufficient to show that he was
no common man. The relentless virulence with which he was persecuted by
Gardiner is easily accounted for, when we remember that Gardiner, when he was
deposed from his See in Edward VI.’s time, was Bishop of Winchester, and would
naturally regard his successor, Bishop Porter, and all his officials, with
intense hatred. A Popish bishop was not likely to spare a Protestant
archdeacon.
The thirteen
examinations of Philpot before the Popish bishops are given by Fox at great
length, and fill no less than one hundred and forty pages of one of the Parker
Society volumes. The length to which they were protracted shows plainly how
anxious his judges were to turn him from his principles. The skill with which
the Archdeacon maintained his ground, alone and unaided, gives a most
favourable impression of his learning, no less than of his courage and
patience.
The night
before his execution he received a message, while at supper in Newgate, to the
effect that he was to be burned next day. He answered at once, “I am ready: God
grant me strength and a joyful resurrection.” He then went into his bed room,
and thanked God that he was counted worthy to suffer for His truth.
The next
morning, at eight o’clock, the Sheriffs called for him, and conducted him to
Smithfield. The road was foul and muddy, as it was the depth of winter, and the
officers took him up in their arms to carry him to the stake. Then he said,
merrily, alluding to what he had probably seen at Rome, when travelling in his
early days, “What, will you make me a Pope? I am content to go to my journey’s
end on foot.”
When he came
into Smithfield, he kneeled down and said, “I will pay my vows in thee, O
Smithfield.” He then kissed the stake and said, “Shall I disdain to suffer at
this stake, seeing my Redeemer did not refuse to suffer a most vile death on
the cross for me?” After that, he meekly repeated the 106th, 107th, and 108th
Psalms; and being chained to the stake, died very quietly. And so the good
Archdeacon passed away.
(9) Thomas Cranmer
The ninth and last leading
Reformer who suffered in Mary’s reign was Thomas
Cranmer, Archbishop of
Canterbury. He was burned at Oxford, on the 21st of March, 1556. Cranmer was
born at Aslacton, in Nottinghamshire. There is no name among the English
martyrs so well known in history as his. There is none certainly in the list of
our Reformers to whom the Church of England, on the whole, is so much indebted.
He was only a mortal man, and had his weaknesses and infirmities, it must be
admitted; but still, he was a great man, and a good man.
Cranmer,
we must always remember, was brought prominently forward at a comparatively
early period in the English Reformation, and was made Archbishop of Canterbury
at a time when his views of religion were confessedly half-formed and
imperfect. Whenever quotations from Cranmer’s writings are brought forward by
the advocates of semi-Romanism in the Church of England, you should always ask
carefully to what period of his life those quotations belong. In forming your
estimate of Cranmer, do not forget his antecedents. He was a man who had the
honesty to grope his way into fuller light, and to cast aside his early
opinions and confess that he had changed his mind on many subjects. How few men
have the courage to do this!
Cranmer
maintained an unblemished reputation throughout the reigns of Henry VIII. and
Edward VI., although frequently placed in most delicate and difficult
positions. Not a single man can be named in those days who passed through so
much dirt, and yet came out of it so thoroughly undefiled.
Cranmer,
beyond all doubt, laid the foundation of our present Prayer-book and Articles.
Though not perhaps a brilliant man, he was a learned one, and a lover of
learned men, and one who was always trying to improve everything around him.
When I consider the immense difficulties he had to contend with, I often wonder
that he accomplished what he did. Nothing, in fact, but his steady perseverance
would have laid the foundation of our Formularies.
I say all
these things in order to break the force of the great and undeniable fact that
he was the only English Reformer who for a time showed the white feather, and
for a time shrank from dying for the truth! I admit that he fell sadly. I do
not pretend to extenuate his fall. It stands forth as an everlasting proof that
the best of men are only men at the best. I only want my readers to remember
that if Cranmer failed as no other Reformer in England failed, he also had done
what certainly no other Reformer had done.
From the
moment that Mary came to the English throne, Cranmer was marked for
destruction. It is probable that there was no English divine whom the unhappy
Queen regarded with such rancour and hatred. She never forgot that her mother’s
divorce was brought about by Cranmer’s advice, and she never rested till he was
burned.
Cranmer was
imprisoned and examined just like Ridley and Latimer. Like them, he stood his
ground firmly before the Commissioners. Like them, he had clearly the best of
the argument in all points that were disputed. But, like them, of course, he
was pronounced guilty of heresy, condemned, deposed, and sentenced to be
burned.
And now comes
the painful fact that in the last month of Cranmer’s life his courage failed
him, and he was persuaded to sign a recantation of his Protestant opinions.
Flattered and cajoled by subtle kindness, frightened at the prospect of so
dreadful a death as burning, tempted and led away by the devil, Thomas Cranmer
fell, and put his hand to a paper, in which he repudiated and renounced the
principles of the Reformation, for which he had laboured so long.
Great was the
sorrow of all true Protestants on hearing these tidings! Great was the
triumphing and exultation of all Papists! Had they stopped here and set their
noble victim at liberty, the name of Cranmer would probably have sunk and never
risen again. But the Romish party, as God would have it, outwitted themselves.
With fiendish cruelty they resolved to burn Cranmer, even after he had
recanted. This, by God’s providence, was just the turning point for Cranmer’s
reputation. Through the abounding grace of God he repented of his fall, and
found mercy. Through the same abounding grace he resolved to die in the faith
of the Reformation. And at last, through abounding grace, he witnessed such a
bold confession in St. Mary’s, Oxford, that he confounded his enemies, filled
his friends with thankfulness and praise, and left the world a triumphant
martyr for Christ’s truth.
I need hardly
remind you how, on the 21st March, the unhappy Archbishop was
brought out, like Samson in the hands of the Philistines, to make sport for his
enemies, and to be a gazingstock to the world in St. Mary’s Church, at Oxford.
I need hardly remind you how, after Dr. Cole’s sermon he was invited to declare
his faith, and was fully expected to acknowledge publicly his alteration of
religion, and his adhesion to the Church of Rome. I need hardly remind you how,
with intense mental suffering, the Archbishop addressed the assembly at great
length, and at the close suddenly astounded his enemies by renouncing all his
former recantations, declaring the Pope to be Antichrist, and rejecting the
Popish doctrine of the Real Presence. Such a sight was certainly never seen by
mortal eyes since the world began!
But then came
the time of Cranmer’s triumph. With a light heart, and a clear conscience, he
cheerfully allowed himself to be hurried to the stake amidst the frenzied
outcries of his disappointed enemies. Boldly and undauntedly he stood up at the
stake while the flames curled around him, steadily holding out his right hand in the fire, and saying, with
reference to his having signed a recantation, “This unworthy right hand,” and
steadily holding up his left hand towards heaven,5 Of all the martyrs, strange to say,
none at the last moment showed more physical Courage than Cranmer did. Nothing,
in short, in all his life became him so well as the manner of his leaving it.
Greatly he had sinned, but greatly he had repented. Like Peter he fell, but
like Peter he rose again. And so passed away the first Protestant Archbishop of
Canterbury.
I will not
trust myself to make any comment on these painful and interesting histories. I
have not time. I only wish my readers to believe that the half of these men’s
stories have not been told them, and that the stories of scores of men and women
less distinguished by position might easily be added to them, quite as painful
and quite as interesting.6 But
I will say boldly, that the men who were burned in this way were not men whose
memories ought to be lightly passed over, or whose opinions ought to be lightly
esteemed. Opinions for which “an army of martyrs” died ought not to be
dismissed with scorn. To their faithfulness we owe the existence of the
Reformed Church of England. Her foundations were cemented with their blood. To
their courage we owe, in a great measure our English liberty. They taught the
land that it was worth while to die for free thought. Happy is the land which
has had such citizens I Happy is the Church which has had such Reformers!
Honour be to those who at Smithfield, Oxford, Gloucester, Carmarthen, and
Hadleigh have raised stones of remembrance and memorial to the martyrs!
III.
But I pass on
to a point which I hold to be one of cardinal importance in the present day.
The point I refer to is the
special reason why our Reformers were burned. Great
indeed would be our mistake if we supposed that they suffered for the vague
charge of refusing submission to the Pope, or desiring to maintain the
independence of the Church of England. Nothing of the kind! The principal
reason why they were burned was because they refused one of the peculiar
doctrines of the Romish Church. On that doctrine, in almost every case, hinged
their life or death. If they admitted it, they might live; if they refused it,
they must die.
The
doctrine in question was the real
presence of the body and
blood of Christ in the consecrated elements of bread and wine in the Lord’s
Supper. Did they, or did they not believe that the body and blood of Christ
were really, that is, corporally, literally, locally, and materially, present
under the forms of bread and wine after the words of consecration were
pronounced? Did they or did they not believe that the real body of Christ,
which was born of the Virgin Mary, was present on the so-called altar so soon
as the mystical words had passed the lips of the priest? Did they or did they
not? That was the simple question. If they did not believe and admit it, they
were burned.7
There is a
wonderful and striking unity in the stories of our martyrs on this subject.
Some of them, no doubt, were attacked about the marriage of priests. Some of
them were assaulted about the nature of the Catholic Church. Some of them were
assailed on other points. But all, without an exception, were called to special
account about the real
presence, and in every case
their refusal to admit the doctrine formed one principal cause of their
condemnation.
(1) Hear what Rogers said:
“I was asked whether I believed in the
sacrament to be the very body and blood of our Saviour Christ that was born of
the Virgin Mary, and hanged on the cross, really and substantially? I answered,
‘I think it to be false. I cannot understand really and substantially to
signify otherwise than corporally. But corporally Christ is only in heaven, and
so Christ cannot be corporally in your sacrament.’ “-Fox in loco, vol. iii. p. 101, edition, 1684.
And therefore he was condemned
and burned.
(2) Hear what Bishop Hooper said:
“Tunstall asked him to say, ‘whether he
believed the corporal presence in the sacrament,’ and Master Hooper said
plainly ‘that there was none such, neither did he believe any such thing.’
Whereupon they bade the notaries write that he was married and would not go
from his wife, and that he believed not the corporal presence in the sacrament;
wherefore he was worthy to be deprived of his bishopric.”-
Fox in loco, vol. iii. p. 123.
And so he was condemned and
burned.
(3) Hear what Rowland Taylor said:
“The second cause why I was condemned as a
heretic was that I denied transubstantiation, and concomitation, two juggling
words whereby the Papists believe that Christ’s natural body is made of bread,
and the Godhead by and by to be joined thereto, so that immediately after the
words of consecration, there is no more bread and wine in the sacrament, but
the substance only of the body and blood of Christ.”
“Because I
denied the aforesaid Papistical doctrine (yea, rather plain, wicked idolatry, blasphemy, and heresy) I am judged a
heretic.”—Fox in loco, vol. iii. p. 141.
And
therefore he was condemned and burned.
(4) Hear what was done with Bishop Ferrar. He
was summoned to “grant the natural presence of Christ in the sacrament under
the form of bread and wine,” and
because he refused to subscribe this article as well as others, he was
condemned. And in the sentence of condemnation it is finally charged against
him that he maintained that “the sacrament of the altar ought not to be
ministered on an altar, or to be elevated, or to be adored in any way.”—Fox in loco, vol. iii. p. 178. And so he was
burned.
(5)
Hear what holy John Bradford wrote to the men of Lancashire and Cheshire when
he was in prison:
“The chief thing which I am condemned for as
an heretic is because I deny in the sacrament of the altar (which is not
Christ’s Supper, but a plain perversion as the Papists now use it) to be a
real, natural, and corporal presence of Christ’s body and blood under the forms
and accidents of bread and wine: that is, because I deny transubstantiation,
which is the darling of the devil, and daughter and heir to Antichrist’s religion.”—Fox in loco, vol. iii. p. 260.
And so he was condemned and
burned.
(6) Hear what were the words of the sentence
of condemnation against Bishop Ridley:
“The said
Nicholas Ridley affirms, maintains, and stubbornly defends certain opinions,
assertions, and heresies, contrary to the Word of God and the received faith of
the Church, as in denying the true and natural body and blood of Christ to be
in the sacrament of the altar, and secondarily, in affirming the substance of
bread and wine to remain after the words of consecration.”—Fox in
loco, vol. iii. p. 426.
And so he was condemned and
burned.
(7) Hear the articles exhibited against Bishop
Latimer:
“That thou hast openly affirmed, defended, and
maintained that the true and natural body of Christ after the consecration of
the priest, is not really present in the sacrament of the altar, and that in
the sacrament of the altar remaineth still the substance of bread and wine.”
And
to this article the good old man replied:
“After a corporal being, which the Romish
Church furnisheth, Christ’s body and blood is not in the sacrament under the
forms of bread and wine.”—Fox in loco, vol. iii. p. 426.
And so he was condemned and
burned.
(8)
Hear the address made by Bishop Bonner to Archdeacon Philpot:
“You have offended and trespassed against the
sacrament of the altar, denying the real presence of Christ’s body and blood to
be there, affirming also material bread and material wine to be in the
sacrament, and not the substance of the body and blood of Christ.”—Fox in loco, vol. iii. p. 495.
And because the good man stoutly
adhered to this opinion he was condemned and burned.
(9) Hear, lastly, what Cranmer said with
almost his last breath, in St. Mary’s Church, Oxford:
“As for the sacrament, I believe, as I have
taught in my book against the Bishop of Winchester, the which my book teacheth
so true a doctrine, that it shall stand at the last day before the judgment of
God when the Papist’s doctrine contrary thereto shall be ashamed to show her
face.”—Fox in loco, vol. iii. p. 562.
If
any one wants to know what Cranmer had said in this book, let him take the following
sentence as a specimen:
“They (the
Papists) say that Christ is corporally under or in the form of bread and wine.
We say that Christ is not there, neither
corporally nor spiritually; but
in them that worthily eat and drink the bread and wine He is spiritually, and
corporally in heaven.”“Cranmer on the Lord’s Supper.” Parker Society edition, p. 54.
And so he was
burned.
Now, were the
English Reformers right in being so stiff and unbending on this question of real presence? Was it a point of such vital
importance that they were justified in dying before they would receive it?
These are questions, I suspect, which are very puzzling to many unreflecting
minds. Such minds, I fear, can see in the whole controversy about the real
presence nothing but a logomachy, or strife of words. But they are questions, I
am bold to say, on which no well-instructed Bible reader can hesitate for a
moment in giving his answer. Such an one will say at once that the Romish
doctrine of the real presence strikes at the very root of the
Gospel, and is the very citadel and keep of Popery. Men may not see this at
first, but it is a point that ought to be carefully remembered. It throws a
clear and broad light on the line which the Reformers took, and the unflinching
firmness with which they died.
Whatever men
please to think or say, the Romish doctrine of the real presence, if pursued to its legitimate
consequences, obscures every leading doctrine of the Gospel, and damages and
interferes with the whole system of Christ’s truth. Grant for a moment that the
Lord’s Supper is a sacrifice, and not a sacrament —grant that every time the
words of consecration are used the natural body and blood of Christ are present
on the Communion Table under the forms of bread and wine—grant that every one
who eats that consecrated bread and drinks that consecrated wine does really
eat and drink the natural body and blood of Christ—grant for a moment these
things, and then see what momentous consequences result from these premises.
You spoil the blessed doctrine of Christ’s
finished work when He died on
the cross. A sacrifice that needs to be repeated is not a perfect and complete
thing. You spoil the priestly office of Christ. If there are priests
that can offer an acceptable sacrifice of God besides Him, the great High
Priest is robbed of His glory.—You spoil the Scriptural doctrine of the Christian ministry. You exalt sinful men into the
position of mediators between God and man.
You give to the sacramental elements of bread and wine an honour and
veneration they were never meant to receive, and produce an idolatry to be abhorred of faithful Christians.—Last,
but not least, you overthrow the true doctrine of Christ’s human nature. If the body born of the Virgin
Mary can be in more places than one at the same time, it is not a body like our
own, and Jesus was not “the second Adam” in the truth of our
nature. I cannot doubt for a moment that our martyred Reformers saw and felt
these things even more clearly than we do, and, seeing and feeling them, chose
to (tie rather than admit the doctrine of the real presence. Feeling them, they
would not give way by subjection for a moment, and cheerfully laid down their
lives. Let this fact be deeply graven in our minds. Wherever the English
language is spoken on the face of the globe this fact ought to be clearly
understood by every Englishman who reads history. Rather than admit the
doctrine of the real presence of Christ’s natural body and blood under the
forum of bread and wine, the Reformers of the Church of England were content to
be burned.
IV.
And now I must ask the special
attention of my readers while I try to show the bearing of the whole subject on our
own position and on our own times. I
must ask you to turn from the dead to the living, to look away from England in
1555 to England in this present enlightened and advanced age, and to consider
seriously the light which the burning of our Reformers throws on the Church of
England at the present day.
We live in
momentous times. The ecclesiastical horizon on every side is dark and lowering.
The steady rise and progress of extreme Ritualism and Ritualists are shaking
the Church of England to its very centre. It is of the very first importance to
understand clearly what it all means. A right diagnosis of disease is the very
first element of successful treatment. The physician who does not see what is
the matter is never likely to work any cures.
Now, I say
there can be no greater mistake than to suppose that the great controversy of
our times is a mere question of vestments and ornaments—of chasubles and
copes—of more or less church decorations—of more or less candles and flowers—of
more or less bowings and turnings and crossings—of more or less gestures and
postures—of more or less show and form. The man who fancies that the whole
dispute is a mere aesthetic one, a question of taste, like one of fashion and millinery,
must allow me to tell him that he is under a complete delusion. He may sit on
the shore, like the Epicurean philosopher, smiling at theological storms, and
flatter himself that we are only squabbling about trifles; but I take leave to
tell him that his philosophy is very shallow, and his knowledge of the
controversy of the day very superficial indeed.
The things I
have spoken of are trifles, I fully concede. But they are
pernicious trifles, because they are the outward expression of an inward doctrine.
They are the skin disease which is the symptom of an unsound constitution. They
are the plague spot which tells of internal poison. They are the curling smoke
which arises from a hidden volcano of mischief. I, for one, would never make
any stir about church millinery, or incense, or candles, if I thought they
meant nothing beneath the surface. But I believe they mean a great deal of
error and false doctrine, and therefore I publicly protest against them, and
say that those who support them are to be blamed.
I give it as
my deliberate opinion that the root of the whole Ritualistic system is the
dangerous doctrine of the real presence of Christ’s natural body and blood in
the Lord’s Supper under the form of the consecrated bread and wine. If words
mean anything, this real
presence is the foundation
principle of Ritualism. This real
presence is what the extreme
members of the Ritualistic party want to bring back into the Church of England.
And just as our martyred Reformers went to the stake rather than admit the real
presence, so I hold that we should make any sacrifice and contend to the bitter
end, rather than allow a materialistic doctrine about Christ’s presence in the
Lord’s Supper to come back in any shape into our Communion.
I will not
weary my readers with quotations in proof of what I affirm. They have heard
enough, perhaps too much, of them. But I must ask permission to give two short
extracts.
Observe what
Dr. Pusey says, in a sermon called “Will ye also go away?” (Parker’s,
1867):
“While repudiating
any materialistic conceptions of the mode of the presence of our Lord in the
Holy Eucharist, such as I believe is condemned in the term ‘corporal presence
of our Lord’s flesh and blood,’ i.e.,
as though His precious body
and blood were present in any gross or carnal way, and not rather
sacramentally, really, spiritually—I believe that in the Holy Eucharist the
body and blood of Christ are sacramentally, supernaturally, ineffably, but
verily and indeed present, ‘under the forms of bread and wine;’ and that ‘where
His body is, there is Christ.’”
Observe
what Dr. Littledale says, in a tract called “The Real Presence”:—
“I. The Christian Church teaches, and has
always taught, that in the Holy Communion, after consecration, the body and
blood of the Lord Jesus Christ are ‘verily and indeed’ present on the altar
under the forms of bread and wine.
“II. The
Church also teaches that this presence depends on God’s will, not on man’s
belief, and therefore that bad and good people receive the very same thing in
communicating, the good for their benefit, the bad for their condemnation.
“III. Further, that as Christ is both God and
Man, and as these two natures are for ever joined in His one person, His Godhead
must be wherever His body is, and therefore He is to be worshipped in His
sacrament.
“IV. The
body and blood present are that same body and blood which were conceived by the
Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, ascended
into heaven, but they are not present in the same
manner as they were when
Christ walked on earth. He, as Man, is now naturally in heaven, there to be till the
last day, yet He is supernaturally, and just as truly, present in the
Holy Communion, is some way which we cannot explain, but only believe.”
In both these
quotations, we may observe, there is an attempt to evade the charge of
maintaining a “gross and carnal presence.” The attempt, however, is not
successful. It is a very curious fact that the Romish controversialist, Mr.
Harding, Bishop Jewell’s opponent, said just as much 300 years ago. He said:—
“Christ’s body is present not after a
corporal, or carnal, or naturally wise, but invisibly, unspeakably,
miraculously, supernaturally, spiritually, Divinely, and in a manner by Him
known.” - “Harding’s
Reply to Jewell,” p.
434. Parker Society edit.
In both cases
we can hardly fail to observe that the very expressions which our martyrs
steadily refused is employed, “present under the forms of bread and wine.”
It is clear,
to my mind, that if Dr. Pusey and Dr. Littledale had been brought before
Gardiner and Bonner three hundred years ago, they would have left the court
with flying colours, and, at any rate, would not have been burned.
I might
refer my readers to the other published sermons on the Lord’s Supper by men of
high position in our Church. I might refer them to several Ritualistic manuals
for the use of Communicants. I might refer them to the famous book “Directorium
Anglicanum.” I simply give it as my opinion that no plain man in his senses can
read the writings of extreme Ritualists about the Lord’s Supper and see any
real distinction between the doctrine they hold and downright Popery. It is a
distinction without a difference, and one that any jury of twelve honest men
would say at once could not be proved.
I turn from
books and sermons to churches, and I ask any reflecting mind to mark, consider,
and digest what may be seen in any thorough-going Ritualistic place of worship.
I ask him to mark the superstitious veneration and idolatrous honour with which
everything within the chancel, and around and upon the Lord’s table, is
regarded. I boldly ask any jury of twelve honest and unprejudiced men to look at that chancel and communion
table, and tell me what they think all this means. I ask them whether the whole
thing does not savour of the Romish doctrine of the Real Presence, and the
sacrifice of the Mass? I believe that if Bonner and Gardiner had seen the
chancels and communion tables of some of the churches of this day, they would
have lifted up their hands and rejoiced; while Ridley, Bishop of London, and
Hooper, Bishop of Gloucester, would have turned away with righteous indignation
and said, “This communion table is not meant for the Lord’s Supper on the
Lord’s board, but for counterfeiting the idolatrous Popish Mass.”
I do not for a
moment deny the zeal, earnestness, and sincerity of the extreme Ritualists, though
as much might be said for the Pharisees or the Jesuits. I do not deny that we
live in a singularly free country, and that Englishmen, now-a-days, have
liberty to commit any folly short of “felo-de-se.” But I do deny that any
clergyman, however zealous and earnest, has a right to reintroduce Popery into the Church of England. And, above all, I deny that he has any
right to maintain the very principle of the Real Presence, for opposing which
the Reformers of his Church were burned.
The plain
truth is, that the doctrine of the extreme Ritualistic school about the Lord’s
Supper can never be reconciled with the dying opinions of our martyred
Reformers. The members of this school may protest loudly that they are sound
churchmen, but they certainly are not churchmen of the same opinions as the Marian martyrs. If words mean
anything, Hooper, and Rogers, and Ridley, and Bradford, and their companions,
held one view of the Real Presence, and the ultra-Ritualists hold quite
another. If they were right, the Ritualists are wrong. There is a gulf that
cannot be crossed between the two parties. There is a thorough difference that cannot be reconciled or explained away. If we hold with
one side, we cannot possibly hold with the other. For my part, I say,
unhesitatingly, that I have more faith in Ridley, and Hooper, and Bradford,
than I have in all the leaders of the ultra-Ritualistic party.
But what are
we going to do? The danger is very great, far greater, I fear, than most people
suppose. A conspiracy has been long at work for unprotestantizing the Church of England, and all the
energies of Rome are concentrated on this little island. A sapping and mining
process has been long going on under our feet, of which we are beginning at
last to see a little. We shall see a good deal more by and by. At the rate we
are going, it would never surprise me if within fifty years the crown of
England were no longer on a Protestant head, and High Mass were once more
celebrated in Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s. The danger, in plain words, is
neither more nor less than that of our Church being unprotestantized and going
back to Babylon and Egypt. We are in imminent peril of reunion with Rome.
Men may call
me an alarmist, if they like, for using such language. But I reply, there is a
cause. The upper classes in this land are widely infected with a taste for a
sensuous, histrionic, formal religion.—The lower orders are becoming sadly
familiarised with all the ceremonialism which is the stepping-stone to Popery.
—The middle classes are becoming disgusted with the Church of England, and
asking what is the use of it.—The intellectual classes are finding out that all
religions are either equally good or equally bad.—The House of Commons will do
nothing unless pressed by public opinion. We have no Pyms or Hampdens there
now.—And all this time Ritualism grows and spreads. The ship is among
breakers,—breakers ahead and breakers astern,—breakers on the right hand and
breakers on the left. Something needs to be done, if we are to escape
shipwreck.
The very life
of the Church of England is at stake, and nothing less. Take away the Gospel
from a Church and that Church is not worth preserving. A well without water, a
scabbard without a sword, a steam-engine without a fire, a ship without compass
and rudder, a watch without a mainspring, a stuffed carcase without life,—all
these are useless things. But there is nothing so useless as a Church without
the Gospel. And this is
the very question that stares us in the face.—Is the Church of England to
retain the Gospel or not? Without it in vain shall we turn to our archbishops
and bishops, in vain shall we glory in our cathedrals and parish churches.
Ichabod will soon be written on our walls. The ark of God will not be with us.
Surely something ought to be done.
One thing,
however, is very clear to my mind. We ought not lightly to forsake the Church
of England. No! so long as her Articles and Formularies remain unaltered,
unrepealed, and unchanged, so long we ought not to forsake her. Cowardly and
base is that seaman who launches the boat and forsakes the ship so long as there is a chance of saving
her. Cowardly, I say, is that Protestant Churchman who talks of seceding
because things on board our Church are at present out of order. What though
some of the crew are traitors, and some are asleep! What though the old ship
has some leaks, and her rigging has given way in some places! Still I maintain
there is much to be done. There is life in the old ship yet. The great Pilot
has not yet forsaken her. The compass of the Bible is still on deck. There are
yet left on board some faithful and able seamen. So long as the Articles and
Formularies are not Romanized, let us stick by the ship. So long as she has
Christ and the Bible, let us stand by her to the last plank, nail our colours
to the mast, and never haul them down. Once more, I say, let us not be
wheedled, or bullied, or frightened, or cajoled, or provoked, into forsaking
the Church of England.
In the name of
the Lord let us set up our banners. If ever we would meet Ridley and Latimer
and Hooper in another world without shame, let us “contend earnestly” for the
truths which they died to preserve. The Church of England expects every
Protestant Churchman to do his duty. Let us not talk only, but act. Let us not
act only, but pray. “He that hath no sword, let him sell his garment and buy
one.”
There is a
voice in the blood of the martyrs. What does that voice say? It cries aloud
from Oxford, Smithfield, and Gloucester, “Resist to the death the Popish
doctrine of the Real Presence, under the forms of the consecrated bread and
wine in the Lord’s Supper!”
NOTE.—The
following quotations about the doctrine of the “Real Presence” are commended to
the special attention of all Churchmen in the present day:
(1) “Whereas
it is ordained in this Office for the Administration of the Lord’s Supper, that
the Communicants should receive the same kneeling; (which order is well meant,
for a signification of our humble and grateful acknowledgment of the benefits
of Christ therein given to all worthy Receivers, and for the avoiding of such
profanation and disorder in the Holy Communion, as might otherwise ensue;) yet,
lest the same kneeling should by any persons, either out of ignorance and
infirmity, or out of malice and obstinacy, be misconstrued and depraved; It is
hereby de-elated, That thereby no adoration is intended, or ought to be done,
either unto the Sacramental Bread or Wine thereby bodily received, or unto any
corporal presence of Christ’s natural Flesh and Blood. For the Sacramental
Bread and Wine remain still in their very natural substances, and therefore may
not be adored; (for that were Idolatry, to be abhorred of all faithful
Christians;) and the natural Body and Blood of our Saviour Christ are in Heaven,
and not here: it being against the truth of Christ’s natural Body to be at one
time in more places than one.”—Rubric at the end of the Communion Service in the Book of Common Prayer.
(2) “As
concerning the form of doctrine used in this Church of England in the Holy
Communion, that the Body and Blood of Christ be under the forms of bread and
wine, when you shall show the place where this form of words is expressed, then
shall you purge yourself from that which in the meantime I take to be a plain untruth.”- “Cranmer’s Answer to Gardiner,” pp. 52, 53, Parker edition.
(3) “The real presence of Christ’s most
blessed Body and Blood is not to be sought for in the sacrament, but in the
worthy receiver of the sacrament - “Hooker’s Eccles. Pol.,” b. v. p.
67.
(4) “The Church
of England has wisely forborne to use the term of Real Presence in all the books set forth by her
authority. We neither find it recommended in the Liturgy, nor the Articles, nor
the Homilies, nor the Church Catechism, nor Nowell’s Catechism. For though it
be once in the Liturgy, and once more in the Articles of 1552, it is mentioned
in both places as a phrase of the Papists, and rejected for their abuse of it.
So that if any Church of England man use it, he does more than the Church
directs him; if any reject it, he has the Church’s example to warrant him.”-
”Dean Aldrich’s Reply,” p. 13, 1684. See “Goode on Eucharist,” p. 38.
FOOTNOTES
1 These
numbers are given by Soames, in his history of the Reformation (vol. iv. p.
587), and are taken from Strype. Other historians give higher numbers.
2 A lady in
high position told Bonner in a letter, after Philpot’s death, that his cruelty
had lost the hearts of 20,000 Papists in twelve months.
3 Rogers’
prophetical words in prison, addressed to Day, printer of Fox’s “Acts and
Monuments,” are well worth quoting: “Thou shall: live to see the alteration of
this religion, and the Gospel freely preached again. Therefore, have me
commended to my brethren, as well in exile as here, and bid them be circumspect
in displacing the Papists and putting good ministers into Churches, or else
their end will be worse than ours “—Fox, iii. p. 309 (1684 edition).
4 Bradford
seems to have had a very strong feeling about the causes for which God
permitted the Marian persecution. Writing to his mother from prison, he says:
“Ye all know there never was more knowledge of God, and less godly living and
true serving of God.—God, therefore, is now come, and because He will not damn
us with the world He punisheth us.”—Fox, iii.
p. 255.
5 Soames is my
authority for this statement about Cranmer’s left hand. I can find it nowhere
else. He also mentions, what other historians record, that when the fire had
burned down to ashes, Cranmer’s heart was found unconsumed and uninjured.—Soames’ “History of the Reformation,” vol.
iv. p. 544.
6 The
following martyrdoms are recommended to the special notice of all who possess
Fox’s Book of Martyrs: Laurence Saunders, burned at Coventry; William Hunter,
at Brentwood; Rawlins White, at Cardiff; George Marsh, at Chester; Thomas
Hawkes, at Coggeshall; John Bland, at Canterbury; Alice Driver, at Ipswich;
Rose Allen, at Colchester; Joan Waste, at Derby; Richard Woodman, at Lewes;
Agnes Prest, at Exeter; Julius Palmer, at Newbury; John Noyes, at Laxfield, in Suffolk.
7 “The Mass
was one of the principal causes why so much turmoil was made in the Church,
with the bloodshed of so many godly men.”—Fox’s Preface to vol. iii. of “Acts and Monuments.”
“The sacrament
of the altar was the main touchstone to discover the poor Protestants. This
point of the real, corporal presence of Christ in the sacrament, the same body
that was crucified, was the compendious way to discover those of the opposite
opinion.”—Fuller, “Church
History,” vol. iii. p. 399. Tegg’s edition.
