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Full text of "Historical selections from the London Rambler and other Catholic periodicals"

x5 

HISTORICAL SELECTIONS 



FROM 



THE LONDON KAMBLER 






AND OTHER CATHOLIC PERIODICALS. 




ST. LOUIS, 

DUGGAN & CO., THIRD STREET. 

PRINTED AT THE LA SALLB PRESS, CARONDELET, 
1860. 







HISTORICAL SELECTIONS 



FROM 



THE LONDON RAMBLER 






4ND OTHER CATHOLIC PERIODICALS. 




ST. LOUIS, 

DUGGAN & CO., THIRD STREET. 

PRINTED AT THE LA SALLE PRESS, CARONDELET. 
1860. 




The following papers have been selected for repub- 
lication on account of their intrinsic value as contribu 
tions to Modern History. The idea of collecting them, 
was suggested by the establishment of a Printing Office 
in the LA SALLE INSTITUTE ;an Asylum wherein orphan 
and other destitute boys arc received, and in which they 
are employed, during a portion of I he day, in learning 
trades and other useful occupations. Whatever profit 
may result from the sale of I his volume will be applied 
to the charitable institution from which it issues. 



The Church and the People. 

\^r^^^ t ^^>^\f^^^>^^^^^^^ 

THE CHURCH AND THE PEOPLE. 

POO A 

[From the Rambler.] 

FOR more than eighteen hundred years a society has existed 
among men, which is without parallel in any other empire, 
dominion, or institution, from the dawn of creation until now. 
It has beheld every other society and every other power pass 
away and perish, while neither death nor decay has touched 
itself. It has seen so marvellous a change come over the 
whole human race, that the man of this day seems almost a 
different species of being from the man of the days of its 
infancy. So wide is the gulf which divides the distant 
epochs, that we call one of them " ancient times," and the 
other "modern times;" and can scarcely realise the actual 
existence of a state of things such as was in being when this 
society had its birth. Kingdoms, laws, customs, arts, manu 
factures, literature, and the very language of man itself, have 
been swept away by the torrent of ages, and this society alone 
survives. 

Yet, wonderful to tell, this society has never for a single 
day fcascvl t ) maintain a mortal conflict with the powers of 
the world in which it is placed. Other institutions which long 
survive the catastrophes around them, maintain their ground 
by avoiding all share in the struggles of man with man. They 
live, because they are either harmless or forgotten. But here 
the iuw of existence is absolutely reversed. This enduring 
society ncver knows one hour s true peace, one hour s repose, 
one hour s oblivion. ) It measures its strength with every com 
petitor. It meets every foe on his own tcims. It treats 
every friend with suspicion, and has to watch all his movements, 
lest he prove a more pernicious enemy than its open adver 
saries. Ic is never weaned, as it is never safe from attack. 
The more fiercely it is opposed, the more rapidly it comes for 
ward ; the more frightful the slaughter in its ranks, the more 
heroic the courage of those \vho hasten to take the place of 

1 



2 The Church and tke People. 

the dead and the dying. Again and again the world has 
counted it destroyed, paralysed, or changed ; but behold, it is 
at this very hour as young, as vigorous, as mighty as ever ; 
and as eager for the contest, as if it had never known the 
agonies of martyrdom, or the treachery of deceitful friends. 

Yet again, and more wonderful still, this society is more 
perplexed, agitated, and thwarted by its own members, than 
by the most terrible of its open foes. Infallibly taught from 
on high in many things, and bound down by a divine law to a 
rigid obedience in many matters of detail and practice, it is 
nevertheless made up of millions of souls, not one of whom is 
safe from sins of the deepest dye, while the vast majority of 
their number are of a very ordinary degree of goodness, and 
while, except in the case of its supreme head, not one of them 
is personally safe from the most fatal errors of judgment and 
doctrine. Scattered throughout the habitable world, its 
children have to act for themselves in unnumbered myriads of 
emergencies, to maintain conflicts with every conceivable spe 
cies of opponent, and against disadvantages which apparently 
must inevitably overwhelm them, and in the end must blot 
them out from among men. 

But still that society lives ; and at a moment when its chief 
is an exile from his own home, driven away by as contemp 
tible a band of petty scoundrels as ever dishonoured the worst 
of ends, it is more united in itself than at almost any other 
period of its existence, and is girding up its loins for a fresh 
battle with those powers of the world which it has again and 
again subdued and destroyed. Never at any previous era in 
its history has it been so free from all open scandals in its 
children; never were they more affectionately attached to their 
highest earthly ruler ; never was the attention of wise and 
thinking men more anxiously directed to its movements, or 
more confidently expecting from it some great and glorious 
deeds, to save the world from calamity and woe. Such is the 
Catholic Church, the, stumbling-block of the ungodly, the 
puzzle of the philosopher, the annoyance of the politician ; 

Written in 1849. 



The Church and the People. 3 

but the joy, the solace, and the strength of those who believe. 

In this state of affairs, it cannot be unprofitable to compare 
the peculiar nature of the relations of the Church to the world 
about her, with the positions in which she has been placed in 
other ages since the day when she ceased to be the Church of 
one favoured nation, and became the Church of all mankind. 
For it is one unfailing characteristic of her destiny, that the 
jorm of her relationship to the world is ever changing, so that 
her policy is ever new, and her weapons of warfare, which once 
were all-powerful for victory, must be perpetually changed 
for others fashioned in a different mould. Herself immutable, 
she has to wage warfare with a Proteus which knows not sta 
bility ; and as her adversaries tactics are not the same for two 
centuries together, she must adapt herself to their ceaseless 
variations, and ever smite them with arms like their own. 

That the present position of the Church in the world is un- 
paralled in any previous stage of her existence, the dullest eye 
can see. She has, in fact, herself united with the will of this 
world, to place herself upon a footing which it never crossed 
the brain of the wildest dreamer of a few hundred years ago 
to establish in his own day. Willingly nay more, eagerly 
she plants herself on new ground, and entrenches herself be 
hind fortifications as unlike to her defences of old, as the 
cannon-proof fortresses of this time are unlike the picturesque 
and battlemented towers within which our mail-clad fathers 
fought and conquered. The idea, in a word, which now 
reigns in Europe and America, and which the Church must 
seek to bend to her own purposes, is radically and irreconci 
lably in opposition to the ideas of every age through which 
she has hitherto passed. 

The old idea of the Christian world was this : that the 
Christian religion was to be taken as the basis of all civil 
society, and that the interests of the secular power were iden 
tical with those of the Christian Church. On this principle 
the Church fought her first battle with Heathenism, under the 
rulers of Imperial Rome. It was the very principle on which 
those bloody persecutors martyred the hosts of the faithful. 
The Pagan magistrate identified Paganism with the well- 



4 The Church and the People. 

being of the state ; and he smote the Christians with unspar 
ing slaughter, because he looked upon them as foes to his own 
rights and powers. He either could not. or would not, give 
credit to their assertions, that while they rendered to their 
God the undivided homage of their hearts, they were ready 
to pay an obedience to the civil authority in all things not 
absolutely forbidden by their faith. It never occurred to him 
to conceive of our modern theories of government, or to at 
tempt to separate, by a rigid line of demarcation, the spiritual 
from the temporal power. The Christian therefore became 
an outcast from the pale of society, an alien from the com 
monwealth of his fellow-creatures ; and when the haughtj 
Roman suffered him to worship his Lord in peace, it was be 
cause he deemed him too insignificant to disturb the repose of 
a people which owned Jove for its god and Caesar for its em 
peror. 

And thus, when the supreme civil power itself became 
Christian, it instantly united itself, heart and hand, with the 
Church of Christ. Never for a moment did the Emperor or 
Empress, whether orthodox or heretical, imagine it to be a 
possibility, that the Christian religion should be a thing with 
which the state, as such, had nought to do. The notion that 
its duties, as an institution for temporal ends, could be so 
distinctly separated from the duties which every man owes to 
his God, as an accountable and immortal soul, never found 5 
place in their tbeorisings. To assert that the secular arm, 
when Christian, could trust with undoubting confidence anj 
human being whom the Church condemned, they would have 
counted a denial of the divine authority of the Church iiseif. 
How far a Christian monarch should seek to crush the idola 
tries of Paganism, was simply a question as to the practica 
bility of the deed. As for taking cognisance of the rights of 
private judgment, or supposing tnat because a man was sin 
cere in a false creed therefore he was to be put upon a level 
with the orthodox, ^ujh a theory simply never occurred to 
them. The Arian sovereign upheld Arianism, because he 
counted Arianism to be true. T\ie Catholic sovereign upheld 
Catholicism, because lie believed Anauisrn to be a soul- 



The. Church and the People. 5 

destroying heresy. Whatever a ruler was himself, that he 
sought by all lawful means in his power to compel his people 
also to be. 

For we must recollect that Christian antiquity knew nothing 
of the modern notion that several creeds can be all equally 
true. Though they had no printing-presses, and believed the 
sun to go round the earth, with a thousand similar physical 
errors, they were yet sufficiently gifted with common sense to 
consider that black is not while, that two is not one, and that 
the words, " the Gospel of Jesus Christ," did not mean 
twenty or thirty different and contradictory gospels. Whether 
they were Catholic or heretical, they were guiltless of this 
new absurdity, each one considering that he alone had pos 
session of that one doctrine, which was revealed Uy Jesus 
Christ to his Apostles. Hence, whatever a man believed, 
that he counted it his duty to propagate by all practieaule 
means. Had he been told that, after all, it was a * k matter 
of opinion" whether our Lord w is the eternal Son of God, 
or no, he would have viewed the person who gave him the in 
formation with about the same astonishment as we should 
regard a man who said it was a " matte;- of opimou" whether 
or not the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right 
angles. The civil governor, therefore, based his government 
upon a certain system of religious doctrine as being true, 
not as being expedient or permissible. By what means, or to 
what extent, he sought to propagate this truth, or how far he 
counted it desirable to identify his government with that of 
the Church, were all distinct questions of mere expediency. 
His fundamental principle ever was this, that there is but one 
true religion, and that the magistrate, believing in this reli 
gion, is bound by his duty to Govl never to cease to act upon 
this belief, both as a magistrate and as a man. 

Oa this idea the sojia! a:id pjlitie.il hl e of Europe was 
based, amidst all the conflicts and revolutions through which 
it has passed. Under the Roman emperors, under the bar 
barians in the middle ages, in the very tumult of the Reform 
ation itself, every state and every individual recognised this 
principle as incoatrovertibly true. f l\ic Teutonic conquerors, 



(j The Church and the People. 

Alaric, Theodoric, and Clovis, when they swept away the 
powers of the emperors, upheld the creed of the vanquished, 
and adopted its doctrines as the basis of the sovereignties they 
set up. In the darkest centuries which followed, the rudest 
civil power paid a sort of homage to the morality of the 
Gospel, as that before which every human rule ought neces 
sarily to bow. It was the recognition of the indefeasible rights 
of Christianity which lent so mighty a strength to Church, 
when in feudal times she mitigated the reckless tyrannies of 
the powerful, and impressed upon the age of chivalry some 
semblance of religious purity and truth. And when men s 
minds were corrupted, and society grew rotten almost to the 
very core, when Paganism, learning, luxury, and relaxation 
of ecclesiastical discipline, combined to call down the judg 
ments of God, and to tempt whole nations to a revolt against 
the faith itself, still was the dogma of our own age un 
known ; and they who were the first to cast off allegiance to 
Rome, were as zealous as ever in upholding the identity of 
the interests of the civil power with those of that one creed 
which they themselves professed to believe as true. Still did 
the old idea reign in Europe, all through the agonies of that 
day of conflict. In submission to its dictates, every Pro 
testant kingdom commenced its anti-Catholic operations ; and 
in reliance upon its patent efficacy, the spirit of despotism 
forged fresh political chains for the subjugated nations of 
Europe. The recognition of the right of private judgment 
was an audacious falsehood in the lips of kings ; they recog 
nised no rights, either spiritual or temporal, except their own ; 
and the only excuse that could be urged in palliation of their 
cruel persecutions, was the fact that the universal consent of 
mankind still regarded Christianity, in some form or other, 
us the only legitimate foundation of social and political, as 
well as of private, morality. 

By and bye, as time went on, a new idea arose. Two cir 
cumstances combined to make men think that if the old idea 
was true in itself, and was once expedient, yet in modern 
days its application would be cruel, unjust, and undesirable. 
Conscientious persons who claimed to separate from the Ca- 



The Church and the People. 7 

tholic Church, on the right of their own judgment, soon saw 
that it was the height of folly and wickedness to deny to 
others what they claimed for themselves, and that if religious 
doctrines were matters of opinion only, it was monstrous for 
any man to rule his fellow-creatures upon his own private 
opinions, while their opinions were directly opposed to his 
own. To this source we must look in some measure for the 
origin of the new idea. Yet this honest conviction would 
have been powerless to shatter the fabric of Protestant theolo 
gical despotism, if it had not been aided by that radical revo 
lution in the system of secular government itself, in which 
England has taken the lead amongst the nations of the world. 
So long as the supreme authority was lodged in the hands of 
one man, or one small oligarchy, the principles of religion? 
toleration must have been powerless, and uttered only to be 
condemned and proscribed. But when a new theory sprang 
to light, or rather when the principles of Magna Charta were 
carried out to their legitimate consequences, the monstrous 
iniquity of the adoption of the old idea by a Protestant gov 
ernment began to break upon the vision of all honest jind clear 
sighted men. That a g<yvernraent consisting of one man, or 
of a certain number of men all united in one faith, and that 
faith the Catholic faith, which they all held to be the only 
true religion given by God for the salvation of sinners, that 
such a government should adopt this religion as the foundation 
of its authority, the guide of its laws, and the very life of its 
daily operations, was but natural. But that a body of repre 
sentatives, elected by men of every variety of creed, and re 
presenting the opinions of their electors, should dare to selec: 
one creed from amidst the host about them, hedge it around 
with persecuting penal laws, pamper it with the wealth of 
stolen treasures, persecute those who could not conscientiously 
admit its truth arid excellence, and fashion their decrees in 
conformity with its peculiar sectarian dictates, such a system 
was too iniquitously tyrannical, and too absurdly self-contra 
dictory, to endure the shock of ages, or to issue in any thini: 
but the reproach of those who maintained it. 

And thus the new idea was born, and grew, and strengthened. 



8 The Church and the People. 

In some modification or other, it is now gradually gaining the 
mastery throughout the civilised world. There is scarcely a 
state in Europe or America which has not yielded some token 
of homage or fear to the new-born doctrine, that, either as a 
matter of duty or expediency, the civil power must separate 
itself from the spiritual, and affording to all religions an 
equal protection, pay special obedience to none. We say 
nothing as to the truth or wisdom of this theory. We do not 
impugn the system of other days. We do not assert that the 
modern notion is justly applicable in any one particular inst 
ance, or not. We take it simply as a fact, as the great fact 
of modern times, as a fact which, in the ey^s of religious men, 
is of infinitely greater moment than those countless swarms of 
novelties which, in the judgment of men of the world, are the 
distinguishing marks of this age of anxiety and change. And 
that the ancient relations of Church and State can by any pos 
sibility be permanently maintained in a country which unites 
a representative government with any great variations in the 
religious opinions of its individual citizens, we hold to be the 
most visionary of expectations. The dominance of a class, 
the power of traditional feelings, the continuance of tran 
quillity and prosperity, may for a while postpone the deve 
lopment of these potent principles , but in the end, where 
soever the people rule and the people are not unanimous in 
their creed, we shall see connexion between the spiritual and 
the secular powers assimilated, with more or less exactness, 
to the stage of things which now prevails in the United States 
or in France. 

What, then, will be true wisdom in us, who are devoted 
with our whole hearts and souls to the upholding and the 
propagating the faith of the Catholic Church? Where shall 
we place our feet, that we may stand firm in the mortal con 
flict which we must wage, as lung as the world shall last? 
What line of conduct shall wo adopt ! What modes of thought 
shall we most sedulously cultivate, that we may be most faith 
ful to our Master s cause, and win souls to his service and his 
glory? In every age it has been the practice of the Church 
to adapt her operations to the exigencies of the time, and to 



The Church and the People. 9 

meet the world with its own weapons. What, then, shall we 
do now ? What can we do ? What must we do ? In one 
word, we must recognise mankind as free. It is the people 
with whom we have to do, a people individually their own 
masters, and collectively supreme in the state; both in theory, 
and more or less in fact, politically free. The Church is cast 
into the midst of a giant democracy. She has to commend 
her divine claims to millions and millions of souls, with no 
more aid from secular authority or traditional associations 
than the Apostle possessed when he pleaded before Festus, or 
than a Bishop of the fourth century, when he preached the 
Gospel to an imperial hearer. The democratic element is 
triumphing around us ; kings and nobles are becoming the 
servants of the people ; the mechanic laughs to scorn the reli 
gious convictions of the monarch, because he himself is be 
come an integral portion of the sovereign power ; he claims 
for himself the same rights of thought which are accorded to 
the mightiest in the land ; he maintains that as he rules, so 
also he will think for himself ; and he is prepared to account 
that to be the one true faith which upholds the civil govern 
ment which he himself maintains, and in which he has bound 
up all his dearest earthly interests. 

This is our age s interpretation of the words of Holy Scrip 
ture, that the powers that are, are ordained of God. Once, a 
Caesar reigned alone, and Nero was the power ordained of 
Heaven. Once, again, an aristocracy ruled, and they were 
the powers which God bade us obey. Now, all is changed or 
changing ; in some countries already every man of full age is 
a master in the state ; in our own land we are hastening on 
to the same condition ; the toiling millions have become " the 
higher power ;" and if the Church would rule the world once 
more, if she would tame its unholy passions, if she would place 
her magic spell upon its tremendous strength, and bid it do 
her bidding, she must recognise it as what it is in very deed. 

The strength of the Church is, in truth, in this fierce de 
mocracy. Her deepest strength, indeed, ever lay in the poor 
and despised, but she gained no little aid from the support of 
the royal and the noble, when she took good heed against 

2 



10 The, Church and the People. 

their enticing snares. But now, her old friends are powerless 
to aid her. They have proved false friends, for the most part. 
They have given her assistance, hoping that she would sanc 
tion their enormities ; therefore she is shaking them off and 
disowning them, not so much because they are themselves 
mighty no more, as because they have played her false, and 
sought to convert her friendship into slavery. And every 
where, where she essays her new part, she triumphs with most 
signal success. She has the most striking power wherever 
she least relies upon the secular arm. In the midst of the 
turbulent storms of revolution and democratic frenzy her 
soothing voice is heard, and lulls to j)eace and rest those angry 
spirits which spurn every human restraint. A few years ago 
she rode in safety on the waves of a popular revolution in 
Belgium. In France she gathers strength amid every excess 
of democratic passion, and rules the heart of the legitimatist, 
the republican, and the Bonapartist, with equal sway. In 
England, while the popular power advances with slower, yet 
most certain step, she is year by year extending her bounds, 
uniting her members, and benting down the besotted preju 
dices of days that are past. In Ireland, she has flourished in 
never-fading youth amidst persecutions that have never ceased, 
reigning in the souls of the poor alone: In the United States . 
she has won so strange a mastery over a restless and haughty 
race, that the first of great modern republics promises to be 
come a Catholic nation. Throughout the whole earth, when 
soever she has been fairly placed in the midst of the people, 
and has sought to win her way to their hearts by spiritual 
weapons alone, a glorious success has crowned her efforts, and 
devoted multitudes have cast themselves in love and veneration 
at her feet. She has nothing to fear from the increase of the 
power of the people. She has but to recognise in them the 
rights which they possess, and they will serve her with an 
affection and a simplicity of purpose which few of her crowned 
and purpled protectors have ever known. 

Little, however, will be our success, if we fail to recognise 
also that freedom of thought which is the mark of our day, 
and is, in some sort, the consequence of its political freedom. 



[** 

( COLLEG 

The Church and the People. \ 11_. ^.. 

If heresy is to be conquered, and unbelief made to give*pfe*l^ 
to faith, it must be by our admitting to the full that inde 
pendence of mind to which man is really entitled, and which 
lie will not yield before any conceivable accumulation of those 
authorities which of yore had such power in the world. Every 
class, and every people, are becoming daily more and more 
impressed with a conviction of the worth of intellectual great 
ness and acquirements, in contrast with the old vulgar worship 
of wealth and grandeur. From the insane profaneness of 
those who would deify man s reason, to the humblest teacher 
of the elements of knowledge to the poor, we are united in 
treading underfoot the empty, frivolous shows of other days, 
and in valuing that which is spiritual, moral, and intelligent, 
above all other things that are good. Gross and sensual, un- 
governed and ungovernable, as we still are, to a frightful 
extent, yet it is undeniable that a homage is now paid to the 
claims of the intellect which was never rendered by any former 
age. 

Hence it has followed, that those whom the Church summons 
to her obedience put forth demands which never yet were made, 
but with which she must comply, if she would do her duty 
faithfully. The whole world of European and American 
thought defies her to the contest. High and low, the philoso 
pher and the mechanic, cast in her teeth a charge which they 
dare her to disprove. They have laid aside many of the old 
arms of Protestantism. They do not meet the claims of Ca 
tholicism by asserting that Protestantism alone is true, and 
therefore Catholicism is false. They are ashamed of the former 
cry of blood-thirstiness which they were wont to raise against 
the priesthood and children of Rome. They are meeting us 
with a pretence often, indeed, urged before, and now some 
times urged in all honesty and candour, though in real igno 
rance. They say we are behind the age that we arc incom 
petent to take our place in the republic of thought and reason 
thai; we would reduce man s intelligence to a miserable level 
of mediocrity and dulness that we would falsify history 
that we dread the discoveries of science that we shirk biblical 
criticism that we would chain down the imagination. They 



12 The Church and the People. 

point to the gigantic works of the human intellect which have 
been produced without the sanction of, or in direct opposition 
to, Catholicism. In England, more especially, they bid us 
look back three hundred years and see how the state has thriven 
under Protestant sway, while ruin and disaster have been the 
lot of almost every Catholic people. They tell us to look at 
the vast body of English literature, at its energy, its grace, 
its honesty, its purity (as they count honesty and purity), 
and challenge us to make good our claims to be sent by God, 
by elevating and purifying that reason which God has given 
to man. They ask, why have Spain, and Portugal, and Italy, 
and Austria, and South America fallen, while England, and 
Protestant Germany, and France (ninetenths intidel), and 
North America, are the ruling powers of the human race ? 

To the spirit which dictates this defiance, we must, heart 
and hand, address ourselves, if we would do our duty in our 
generation, and not be fools and traitors where our fathers 
were wise men and conquerors. We know that this imputa 
tion that is cast upon us is false. We know that if ever there 
was a falsehood, as daring as it is shallow, it is the assertion 
that obedience to a faith which comes from God is a slavery 
of that reason which came from the same almighty hand. There 
is not a Catholic in the land who would not repudiate with 
indignation the imputation, that his intelligence is less free 
than that of any race of men upon earth. It is no more sla 
very to us to believe what we are sure is the word of God. 
than it is slavery to comprehend and believe the demonstra 
tions of Euclid. Our intellect follows the laws of reason in 
trusting to an inspired authority as independently as when it 
is convinced that two and two make four. There is not a 
syllogism in the whole range of mathematical truth more com 
plete than the great Catholic argument (1), that if God has 
given us a revelation, and made it our duty to believe the 
doctrines of that revelation, He must have made the statement 
of those doctrines intelligible to our understanding, and shewn 
us what they are ; (2), that there is no intelligible statement 
of those doctrines put forward by any body claiming to be 
taught by God except that which is put forward by the Ca- 



The Church and the People. 18 

tholic Church ; and consequently (3), that the decrees. of the 
Catholic Church are true. It is no more a slavery to a man s 
understanding to believe in transubstantiation than to believe 
that the earth is round. We believe both the one and the 
other upon testimony ; and instead of its being the act of a 
bondslave to believe in the Real Presence, it is the delight of 
our intellect, as a free, reasoning agent, to know that this 
doctrine is true, just as it is our delight to reject the notion 
that the earth is flat or square. And so also in the whole 
domain of art, philosophy, science, and literature. They who 
are themselves Catholics are well aware that they receive from 
their religion the greatest possible assistance to their natural 
faculties in every species of human cultivation ; that so far 
from working, as it were, in chains, they are conscious of a. 
living, spiritual freedom, to which every man who is not a 
conscientious Catholic is a stranger. 

Knowing this, then, it will be our truest wisdom to act upon 
it, not merely by compulsion and unwillingly, but boldly, 
energetically, and of our own accord. We must come forward 
as our fathers did six hundred years ago, and be the foremost 
in the work of intellectual cultivation. We must throw our 
whole strength upon the busy realms of thought, prepared and 
expecting to conquer. We must compel merrto own that the 
only true intellectual freedom is to be found in obedience to 
the Faith, by proving to them, that they who own that Faith 
have a power to make all truth their own, such as none others 
can attain to. We must shew no fear, no hesitation, no sigus 
of a wish to take advantage of people s ignorance and slowness 
of perception. We must lift up our voice, and never cease to 
say, that as the whole domain of possible knowledge is the 
lawful possession of man s reason, so he alone is in a state to 
seize all truth with a firm arid enduring grasp, who has attaine-] 
to a knowledge of those truths which are eternal, and of whk-h 
the visible world is but the outward manifestation and result. 
Every reasonable being is aware that we might as well assert 
that a knowledge of the laws of gravity is a hindrance to a man 
in building a house, as that a knowledge of spiritual and 
eternal truths is a hindrance to the study of material and tern- 



14 The Church and the People. 

poral truths. But so long as the Catholic is content to take 
little part in the moving thought of his day, or protests against 
the advancement of human knowledge, as though it were some 
thing in its very nature in opposition to the truths of revela 
tion so long will our generation suspect him of some secret 
design upon the common sense and understanding of his 
fellow-creatures. 

It is scarcely possible to overstate the importance of a sound 
and well-considered view of this truth in the present posture 
of Catholic affairs in this kingdom. Notwithstanding a few 
iniquitous things which yet remain, the Catholic religion is at 
length practically emancipated in England. There is scarcely 
.a day that passes without shewing, in some way or other, that 
the attention of the best and the most thoughtful in the country 
is concentrating upon us. The claims of Protestantism are 
hourly made less of. The Church of England s day is gone 
by. She has stood still and the world has passed her, and left 
her to her complainings. We alone remain to be feared, to 
be honoured, to be loved. Our own youth are panting for the 
struggle in the arena of thought. Intelligent, open-hearted, 
pious, and patriotic, like the horse that chafes and champs the 
bit before the race begins, the young Catholic laity and clergy 
are burning to shake off the hindrances which a want of suffi 
cient training has long laid upon the Catholic mind of Eng 
land, and to seize that place among their countrymen which 
already almost invites their claim. From within and without 
we are called upon to cultivate the energies of the mind to the 
highest possible perfection to teach men to reason clearly and 
to judge calmly and vigorously to purify the taste to ele 
vate the imagination to widen the circle of human knowledge, 
and to lay its foundations deep in that thorough mastery of 
some few subjects of study, without which the most extensive 
acquirements are little better than the small-talk of a fashion 
able drawing-room, or the gossip of a daily newspaper. 

Rightly or wrongly, our age has come to estimate every man 
by what he is in himself. Centuries ago, a man s office or 
rank gave him a certain real claim to have his opinions and 
dicta respected, because those who held sacred or secular 



The Church and the People. 15 

offices, or stood high in rank, were ordinarily the best educated 
and the ablest thinkers in society. But this is so no longer. 
A man s chief influence depends upon his personal character 
and acquirements, whatever be his administrative functions. 
The most unreserved and glad obedience is constantly ren 
dered to those administrators of the laws, in their official ca 
pacity, for whose personal opinions no one has the smallest 
regard. The habits of other times would be mere superstition 
in ourselves. It was once right and reasonable for the inferior 
to regard those who were his superiors in station, with a uni 
versal respect for their words on all subjects whatever. In 
those days, scarcely any but the clergy could read or write, 
and for ages, -any high degree of cultivation was confined to a 
favoured few, whether ecclesiastics or laymen. Bat now the 
gifts of knowledge are spread abroad far and wide. There is 
many a machanic in the land who is better educated and more 
intelligent than many a peer. The distinctions of rank are 
almost nominal, and the distinctions of office are confined to a 
difference of administrative or functional powers alone. A 
claim to infallibility only makes a man laughed at. Even the 
Evangelical party in the Established Church are getting 
ashamed of turning a favourite preacher into a Pope. While 
the Catholic rejoices with never-fading joy in his own posses 
sion of an infallible authority in matters of faith, and while 
the better classes of Protestants are in their secret souls yearn 
ing for some infallible guide to set them free from the reli 
gious doubts which afflict them, at the same time Catholic and 
Protestant together are united in attributing infallibility to a 
divinely guided authority alone, and in testing the claims of 
every other authority among men by its actual qualifications 
for respect and deference. 

How, then, can we overrate the importance of the highest 
practicable cultivation of the natural faculties in ourselves, if 
we would command the attention and enlist the sympathies of 
our fellow-men ? Whether we like it or no, we must take them 
on their own ground. We must appeal to the principles which 
they already admit. We must present ourselves to them in a 
guise which they will hononr. In China the Catholic priest 



16 The Church and the People. 

is dressed in the fantastic garb of the country, and wears a 
tail of hair three feet long. In Syria, his beard hangs down 
to his waist. In England, he is neat and close shaven, and is 
clothed in black. And such must be our wisdom in clothing 
the mind within. It must be vested after the model of the age 
in which we live, so far as that model is not positively sinful. 
The Chinaman admires the flowing robes, the Oriental vene 
rates the beard, and to our eyes there is nothing more correct, 
more gentlemanlike, or more worthy of respect, than a priest 
in his proper ecclesiastical dress. And thus, would we bring 
the power of our religion to bear upon the dense mass of un 
belief and heathenism which has overspread the land, we must 
attack it armed with those weapons before which alone it will 
yield. We must exhibit to it the spectacle of a vast body of 
men, each devoted with his whole powers to the faith which is 
revealed, each animated with one and the same spirit of love, 
purity, and humility, yet each retaining the personal charac 
teristics of his own mind, each cultivated to the highest point 
within his power, each independent in thought in all matters 
which are open to discussion, each vigorous, animated, re 
fined, well informed, and charitable to the defects and errors 
of all around him. 

Such are some few of the facts of this new phase in the 
world s existence in which we find our lot to be cast. The 
old landmarks of thought are gone, a deluge has swept over the 
world; a rapid vegetation is again commencing, rank and 
baneful, or lovely and lifegiving, according as it is left to its 
own uncultured vigour, or is tended with wisdom, and breathed 
upon by the gales of grace from heaven. We are placed in 
the midst of an innumerable host of men, with power in their 
hands, with daring freedom in their thoughts, but not without a 
love for order, and a desire for truth and goodness ; and accord 
ing as we take them upon their own ground, and be ourselves 
also wise in our generation, shall we find them our friends or 
our foes, the servants of Jesus Christ, or rebels against his au 
thority, and the mad destroyers of their own selves. May God 
grant that we may be wise as serpents, as well as simple as 
doves. 



Schools of the Benedictines. 17 

SCHOOLS OF THE BENEDICTINES. 

( From the Atlantis, JOHN H. NEWMAN. ) 

THE rise and extension of these Schools seems to us us great 
an event in the history of the Order, as the introduction of 
the sacerdotal office into the number of its functions. If Pope 
Gregory took a memorable step in turning monks of his con 
vent into missionary bishops charged with the conversion of 
England, much more remarkable was the act of Pope Vitalian, 
in sending the old Greek monk Theodore to the same island, 
to fill the vacant see of Canterbury. We call it more remar 
kable, because it introduced an actual tradition into the Bene 
dictine houses, and consecrated a system by authority. It is 
true that from an early date in the history of monachism, ex 
tensive learning had been combined with the profession of a 
monk. St. Jerome was only too fond of the Cicero and 
Horace, whom he put aside ; and, if out of the whole catalogue 
of ecclesiastics we had to select a literary Father, the monk 
Jerome, per excellence, would be he. In the next century 
Claudian Mamercus, of Vienne, employed the leisure which 
his monastic profession gave him to gain an extensive know 
ledge of Greek and Latin literature. He collected a library 
of Greek, Roman, and Christian books, " quam totam inona- 
chus", says Sidonius of him, " virente in aevo, secreta bibit 
institutions ". a And in the century after, Cassiodorus, the 
cotemporary of St. Benedict, is well known for combining 
sacred and classical studies in his monastery. The tradition, 
however, of the cloister was up to that time against profane 
literature, and Theodore reversed it. 

This celebrated man made his appearance at the end of the 
century which the missionary Augustine opened, and just 
about the time when the whole extent of England had been 
converted to the Christian faith. lie brought with him Greek 
as well as Latin Classics, and set up schools for both the learn- 

fl liabillon Aunal. Bened. t. I, p. 32. 



18 Schools of the Benedictine*. 

ed languages in various parts of the country. Henceforth the 
curriculum of the Seven Sciences is found in the Benedictine 
schools. From Theodore proceeded Egbert and the school 
of York ; from Egbert came Bede, and the school of Jarrow ; 
from Bede, Alcuin, and the schools of Charlemagne at Paris. 
Tours, and Lyons. From these came Raban and the school 
of Fulda ; from Raban, Walafrid and the school of Richenau ; 
Lupus and the school of Ferric-res. From Lupus, Ileiric, 
Remi, and the school of Rheims ; from Remi, Odo of Ciuni ; 
from the dependencies of Cluni, the celebrated Gerbert, after 
wards Pope Sylvester the Second, and Abbo of Fleury, whom 
we have already introduced to the reader s notice, though not 
by name, in the former part of this sketch, as repaying a por 
tion of the debt which the Franks owed to the Anglo-Saxons, 
by opening the schools of Ramsey Abbey, after the inroad of 
the Danes. 

And now, at length, in addressing ourselves to the question, 
how such studies can be considered in keeping with the original 
idea of the monastic state, we think it right to repeat an ex 
planation, which we made at an earlier stage of our discussion, 
to the effect that we are proposing nothing more than a survey 
of the venerable order of St. Benedict from without ; and we 
claim leave to do as much as this by the same right by which 
the humblest among us may freely and without offence gaze 
on sun, moon, and stars, and form his own private opinion, 
true or false, of their materials and their motions. And with 
this proviso, we remind the reader, if we have not sufficiently 
done so in our present pages, that the one object, immediate 
as well as ultimate, of Benedictine life, as history presents it 
to us, was to live in purity and to die in peace. The monk 
proposed to himself no great or systematic work, beyond that 
of saving his soul. What he did more than this, was the 
accident of the hour, spontaneous acts of piety, the sparks of 
mercy or beneficence, struck off in the heat, as it were, of his 
solemn religious toil, and done and over almost as soon as 
they began to be. If to-day he cut down a tree, or relieved 
the famishing, or visited the sick, or taught the ignorant, or 

a, Vid. Daniel, Etudes Glassiques, p. 100, etc. j Launoy, de Scholis. Opp. 



Schools of the Benedictines. 19 

transcribed a page of Scripture, this was a good in itself, 
though nothing was added to it to-morrow. He cared little 
for knowledge, even theological, or for success, even though it 
was religious. It is the character of such a man to be con 
tented, resigned, patient, and incurious ; to create or originate 
nothing ; to live by tradition. He does not analyze, he mar 
vels ; his intellect attempts no comprehension of this multiform 
world, but on the contrary it is hemmed in, and shut up within 
it. It recognizes but one cause in nature and in human 
affairs, and that is the First and Supreme ; and why things 
happen day by day in this way, and not in that, it refers im 
mediately to his will. a It loves the country, because it is 
his work ; but " man made the town", and he and his works 
are evil. This is what may be called the Benedictine idea, 
then viewed in the abstract ; and, as being such, we gave it the 
title of " poetical ", when contrasted with that of other reli 
gious orders ; and we did so, because we considered we saw in 
it a congeniality, mutatis mutandis , to the spirit of a Poet, 
who has perhaps greater title of that high name than any one 
else, as having received a wider homage, and that among 
nations in time, place, and character, further removed from 
each other. b 

Now supposing the historical portrait of the Benedictine to 
be such as this, and that we were further told that he was con 
cerned with study and with teaching, and then were asked, 
keeping in mind the notion of his poetry of character, to guess 



11 Quoti^s vicletur contra naturara aliquid evenire, quodammodo non contra 
natura in e t, quia rerum natura hoc habet eximium, ut a quo est, semper ejus ob- 
tempeiet juscis. Paochae. p. loo, Opp. ed. 1618. 

& Tliis analogy betwean the monastic institute and Virgil is recognized by 
Cassiodoiu.^, wiio, ail<;r improving on hi* monks, in the fir=t place, the study of 
Holy Scripture and the .Fathers, continues, " However, the most holy Fathers 
have passed no decree, binding us to repudiate secular literature ; for in fact such 
reading prepares the mind in no .-light measure for understanding the sacred 
writings ". Presently, " In some case.:- indeed, Frigidus obstiterit circum prapcor- 
dia sanguis ", so as to hinder a man s perfect mactary whether of human or divine 
divine letters ; but even with but a poor measure of knowledge, he may be able to 
choose t.*ic i fc wfi cfi follows in the next verse, " Rura mihi et rigui placeant in 
vallibus amnes " ; for " it is even congenial to monks to have the care f a <;arden, 
to tili the l.i:id, and to take interest in a good crop of apples " de Intt. div. litt. 
28. Here, by the bye, is in fact the same contrast between the " F elix qui " and 
tho " Fortuuatua e^c ilia ", which is suggested to reader in our former article 
( Atlant., vol. i. p. 17). Mr. Keble, in a passage of his beautiful Prelections, 
p. 643, considers Virgil to allude to Lucretius in the " Felix ", while be asc.ibe* 
to himself the " Forr.unatus ". 



20 Schools of the Benedictines. 

what books lie studied and what sort of pupils he taught, we 
should without much difficulty conclude, that Scripture would 
be his literature, and children would be the members of his 
school. a And, if we were further asked, what was likely 
to be the subject-matter of the schooling imparted to these 
boys, probably we should not be able to make any guess at all ; 
but we surely should not be very much surprised to be told, 
that the same spirit which led him to prefer the old basilicas 
for worship instead of any new architecture of his own invent 
ing, and to honour his emperor or king with spontaneous loyalty 
more than by theological definitions, would also induce him, in 
the matter of education, to take up with the old books and 
subjects which he found ready to his hand in the pagan schools, 
as far as he could religiously do so, rather than venture on any 
experiments or system of his own. b This, as we have 
already intimated, w r as the case. He adopted the Roman 
curriculum, professed the Seven Sciences, began with Grammar, 
that is, the Latin classics, and, if he sometimes finished with 
them, it was because his boys left him ere he had time to teach 
them more. His choice of subjects was his fit recompense for 
choosing. He adopted the Latin writers from his love of 
prescription, because he found them in possession. But there 
were in fact no writings, after Scripture, more congenial, from 
their fresh and natural beauty, and their absence of intellec- 
tualism, to the monastic temperament. Such were his school- 
books ; and, as " the boy is father of the man", the little 
monks, who heard them read or pored over them, when they 
grew up, filled the atmosphere of the monastery with the tasks 
and studies with which they had been imbued in their child 
hood. 

For so it was, strange as it seems to our ideas, these boys 
were monks c monks as truly as those of riper years. 
About St. Benedict s time the Latin Church innovated upon 



a Mos in Benedictine ordine usatissimus scholas instituere, et pueros cum 
pietate turn litteris imbuere. Dechery in Lanfranc. Opp. p. 28. Brower. Antiqu. 
Fuld., pp. 35-^38. 

6 On the monastic schools taking up the imperial, vid Guizot Civil, vol. 2, 
p. 100, etc. Vid. also Ampere, Hist Lit., t. 2, p. 277. 
c Thomas, Disc. Eccles., 1. 1, 821. 



Schools of the Benedictines. 21 

tin* discipline of "former centuries, and allowed parents, not 
only to dedicate their infants to a religious life, but to do so 
without any power on the part of those infants, when they 
came to years of reason, to annul the dedication. This dis 
cipline continued for five or six centuries, beginning with the 
stern Spaniards, nor ending till shortly before the pontificate 
of Innocent the Third. Divines argued in behalf of it from 
the case- of. infant baptism, in which the sleeping soul, without 
being asked, is committed to the most solemn of engagements ; 
from that of Isaac on the Mount, and of Samuel, and from the 
sanction of: the Mosaic Law ; and they would be confirmed in 
their course by the instances of compulsion, not uncommon in 
the early centuries, when high magistrates or wealthy heads 
of families were suddenly seized on by the populace or by 
synods, and against their remonstrances, tonsured, ordained, 
and consecrated, before they could well take breath and realize 
to themselves their change of station. Nor must we forget the 
old Roman law, the spirit of which they had inherited, and 
which gave to the father the power even of life and death over 
his refractory offspring. 

However, childhood is not the age at which the severity of 
the law would be felt, which bound a man by his parent s act 
to the service of the cloister. While these oblates were but 
children, they were pretty much like other children ; they threw 
a grace over the stern features of monastic asceticism, and 
peopled the silent haunts of penance with a crowd of bright 
innocent faces. " Silence was pleased", to use the. poet s 
language, when it was broken by the cheerful, and sometimes, 
it must be confessed, unruly voices of a set of school-boys. 
These would sometimes, certainly, be inconveniently loud, 
especially as St. Benedict did not exclude from his care lay- 
boys, destined for the world. It was more than the devotion 
of some good monks could bear ; and they preferred some strict 
Reform, which, among its new provisions, prohibited the pre 
sence of these uncongenial associates. But, after all, it was 
no great evil to place before the eyes of austere manhood and 
unlovely age a sight so calculated to soften and to cheer. It 
was not adolescence, with its curiosity, its pride of knowledge 



22 Schools of the Benedictines. 

and its sensitiveness, with its disputes and emulations, with its 
exciting prizes and its impetuous breathles efforts, which St. 
Benedict undertook to teach : he was no professor in a university. 
His convent was an infant school, a grammar school, and a 
seminary : it was not an academy. Indeed, the higher 
education in that day scarcely can be said to exist. It was a 
day of bloodshed and of revolution ; before the time of life 
came, when the university succeeds the school, the student had 
to choose his profession. He became a clerk or a monk, or 
he became a soldier. 

The fierce northern warriors, who had won for themselves the 
lands of Christendom with their red hands, rejoiced to commit 
their innocent offspring to the custody of religion and of peace. 
Nay, sometimes with the despotic will, of which we have just 
now spoken, they dedicated them, from or before their birth, 
to the service of Heaven. They determined, that some at least 
of their lawless race should be rescued from the contamination 
of blood and licence, and should be set apart in sacred places 
to pray for their kindred. The little beings, of three or 
four or five years old, were brought in the arms of those who 
gave them life, to accept at their bidding the course in which 
that life was to run. They were brought into the sanctuary, 
spoke by the mouth of their parents, as at the font, put out 
their tiny hand for the sacred corporal to be wrapped round it, 
received the cowl, and took their place as monks in the monastic 
community. In the first ages of the Benedictine Order, these 
children were placed on a level with their oldest brethren. 
They took precedence according to their date of admission, 
and the gray head gave way to them in choir and refectory, if 
junior to them in monastic standing. They even voted in the 
election of abbot, being considered to speak by divine instinct, 
as the child who cried out, " Ambrose is Bishop". 6 If they 
showed waywardness in community meetings, inattention at 
choir, ill behaviour at table, which certainly was not an impos- 

Calmet, Reg. Bened., t. 2, pp. 2, 4, 116, 273, 335-6, 380, 385. Vid. also 
ThomaKsin. Disc. Eccl., t. 1, p. 821, and Magagnotti s Dissert, in Fleury s Disc. 
Fop. Dei. 

& Calmet, t. 2, p. 324. This early dedication of the monk might tend to 
suggest or defend the abuse of boy priests. Vid. S. Bernard, de Off. Ep. 7. 



Schools of the Benedictines. 23 

i 

ible occurrence, they were corrected by the nods, the words, 
or the blows of the grave brother who happened to be next 
them : it was not till an after time, that they had a prefect of 
their own, except in school hours. 

That harm came from this remarkable discipline, is only the 
suggestion of our modern habits and ideas; that it was not 
expedient for all times follows from the fact that at a certain 
date it ceased to be permitted. However, that, in those 
centuries in which it was in force, its result was good, is seen 
in the history of those heroic men whom it nurtured, and 
might have been anticipated from the principle which it 
embodied. The monastery was intended to be the paternal 
home, not the mere refuge of the monk : it was an orphanage, 
not a reformatory; father and mother had abandoned him, and 
he grew up from infancy in the new family which had adopted 
him. He was a child of the house ; there were stored up all 
the associations of his wondering boyhood, and there would lie 
the hopes and interests of his maturer years. He was to seek 
for sympathy in his brethren, and to give them his own in re 
turn. He lived and died in their presence. They prayed for 
his soul, cherished his memory, were proud of his name, and 
treasured his works. A pleasing illustration of this brotherly 
affection meets us in the life of Walafrid Strabo, Abbot of 
Richenau, whose poems, written by him when a boy of fifteen 
and eighteen, were preserved by his faithful friends, and thus 
remain to us at this day. Walafrid is but one out of many, 
whose names are known in history, dedicated from the earliest 
years to the cloister. St. Boniface, Apostle of Germany, was 
a monk at the age of five ; St. Bede came to Wiremouth at 
the age of seven ; St. Paul of Verdun is said by an old writer 
to have left his cradle for the cloister ; St. Robert entered it 
as soon as he was weaned ; Pope Paschal the Second was taken 
to Cluni, Ernof to Bee, the Abbot Suger to St. Denis, from 
their " most tender infancy ". 

Infants can but gaze about at what surrounds them, and 
their learning comes through their eyes. In the instances we 
have been considering, their minds would receive the passive 
impressions which were made on them by the scene, and would 



24 Schools of the Benedictines. 



be moulded by the composed countenances and solemn services 
which surrounded them. Such was the education of ihcst; 
little ones, till perhaps the age of seven ; when, under the title 
of "pueri", a they commenced their formal school- time, 
and committed to memory their first lesson. That lesson w.is 
the Psalter that wonderful manual of prayer and pra i.<-;, 
which, from the time when its various portions were first com 
posed down to the last few centuries, has been the most pn - 
cious viaticum of the Christian mind in its journey through 
the wilderness. In early times St. Basil speaks of it as the 
the popular devotion in Egypt, Africa, and Syria; and St. 
Jerome had urged its use upon the Roman ladies whom ho 
directed. All monks were enjoined to know it by heart ; th. 
young ecclesiastics learned it by heart ; no bishop could b 3 
ordained without knowing it by heart ; and in the parish school -5 
it was learned by heart. The Psalter, with the Lord s Praye/ 
and Creed, constituted the sine qua nun condition of disci- 
pleship. At home pious mothers, as the Lady Helvidia, whom 
we have already introduced to the reader, taught their children 
the Psalter. It was only, then, in observance of a universal 
law, b that the Benedictine children were taught it ; the) 
mastered it, and then they passed into the secular school 
room, they next were introduced to the study of grammar. 

By Grammar, it is hardly necessary to say, was not meant, 
as now, the mere analysis or rules of language, as denoted by 
the words etymology, syntax, prosody ; but rather it stood for 
scholarship, that is, such an acquaintance with the literature 
of a language, as implied the power of original composition 
and the viva, voce use of it. Thus Cassiodorus defines it to- 
be " skill in speaking elegantly, gained from the best poets 
and orators"; St. Isidore, " the science of speaking well" ; 
and Raban, "the science of interpreting poets and historians, 

a. Calmet, 1. 1, p. 495. b Thomass. Disc., t. 2, p. 280, etc. 

c The following sketch is drawn up from the works of the Benedictines, in 
in Bibl. Max. Patr., tt. 14, 15, 17, 18, 21 j Mabillon s Acta SS. Bened. ; Ceillier .s 
Auteurs, tt. 18-20 ; Neander s Hist., vol. 6, Bohn ; Guizot, Hist. Civil, vol. 2 ; 
Bphn ; Ampere, Hist. Lit., t. 3; and two recent works of Mgr. Landriot s Ecoles 
Litteraires, and P. Daniel s Etudes Classiques, to which we are much indebted for 
many points of detail. Vid. also M. 1 Abbe Lalanne s Influence des Pores, and 
P. Cahour s Etudes Classiques. 



Schools of tkt Benedictines. 25 

and the rule of speaking and writing well". In the monastic 
school, the language of course was Latin ; and in Latin litera 
ture first came Virgil ; next Lucan and Statius ; Terence, 
Sallust, Cicero ; Horace, Persius, Juvenal ; and of Christian 
poets, Prudentius, Sedulius, Juvencus, Aratus. Thus we find 
that the monks of St. Alban s, near Mayence, had standing 
lectures in Cicero, Virgil, and other authors. In the school of 
Paderborne there were lectures in Horace, Virgil, Statius, and 
Sallust. Theodulf speaks of his juvenile studies in the Chris 
tian authors, Sedulius and Paulinus, Aratus, Fortunatus, 
Juvencus, and Prudentius, and in the classical Virgil and Ovid. 
Gerbert, afterwards Sylvester the Second, after lecturing his 
class in logic, brought it back again to Virgil, Statius, Te 
rence, Juvenal, Persius, Horace, and Lucan. A work is 
extant of St. Hildebert s, supposed to be a school exercise ; it 
is scarcely more than a cento of Cicero, Seneca, Horace, 
Juvenal, Persius, Terence, and other writers. Horace he must 
have almost known by heart. 

Considering the number of authors which have to be studied 
in order to possessing a thorough knowledge of the Latin 
tongue, and the length to which those in particular run which 
are set down in the above lists, we may reasonably infer, -that 
with the science of Grammar the Benedictine teaching began 
and ended, excepting of course such religious instruction, as is 
rather the condition of Christian life than the acquisition of 
knowledge. At fourteen, when the term of boyhood was com 
plete, a the school time commonly ended too, the lay youths 
left for their secular career, and the monks commenced the 
studies appropriate to their sacred calling. The more promis 
ing youths, however, of the latter class were suffered or di 
rected first to proceed to further secular studies ; and, in order 
to accompany them, we must take some more detailed view of 
the curriculum, of which Grammar was the introductory study. 

This curriculum, b derived from the earlier ages of hea 
then philosophy, was transferred to the use of the Church on 
the authority of St. Augustine, who in his de Or dine consi- 

Calmet, Reg., t. 1, p. 495. 

*> Bmcker Phil., t. 3. r . f,ft$ ; etc, Appul. Fkrid. iv. 20. * 



UO Schools of the nenedictints. 

dors it to bo the fitting and Bulficiont preparation for theologi 
cal learning. It in hardly necessary to refer to the history of 
its formation ; we are told how Pythagoras prescribed the 
study of aritlnnotii!, music, and geometry ; how Plato and 
Aristotle insisted on grammar and music, which, with gym 
nastics, were the substance of Greek education ; how Seneca, 
speaks, though not as approving, of grammar, music, geometry, 
and astronomy, as the matter of education in his own day ; 
and how Philo, in addition to these;, has named logic and 
rhetoric. Augustine, in his enumeration of them, begins with 
arithmetic and grammar, including under the latter history ; 
then ho speaks of logic and rhetoric ; then of music, under 
which comes poetry, as equally addressing the ear; lastly, of 
geometry and astronomy, which address the eye. The Alexan 
drians, whom he followed, arranged them differently ; viz., 
grammar, rhetoric, and logic or philosophy," which branched 
otT into the four mathematical sciences of arithmetic, music, 
geometry, and astronomy. And this order was adopted in 
Christian education, the first three sciences being culled the 
Trivium, the last four the Quadrivium. 

Grammar was taught in all these schools; but for those 
who wished to proceed further than the studies of their boyhood, 
Boats of higher education had been founded by Charlemagne in 
the pi n ipal cities of his Empire, under the name of public 
schools/ which may be considered the shadow, and even the 
nucleus of the universities which arose in a subsequent age. 
Such wore the schools of Paris, Tours, llheims, and Lyons in 
Franco ; Fulda in Germany; Bologna in Italy, Nor did they 
confine themselves to the Seven Sciences above mentioned, 
though it is scarcely to bo supposed, that, in any science 
whatever, ex. opt Grammar, they professed to impart more 
than the elements. Thus we read of St. Bruno of Segni 
(A.I>. 1 S), after being grounded in the ** littenc huina- 
niores", us a boy, by the monks of St. Perpetuus near Asto, 
seeking the rising school of Bologna for the kk altiores scion- 

c Tl< Qv.r.tlm \v\\\ ivas called " philosophy ". Anij^re, t. 3, p. 267. 

( l.inloii t.^iVi tchooh tnught Un unutir, Kholoiir. LOCKS Cammes, Theology 
1 iUivi.l tiul uiUMk ttl. Vid. ILouittt*. lic. U 3, p. 27i--2U4 ; Arop^rr. liist 
L 3, |>. 307. 



Schools of the Benedictine*. 27 

tirc". St. Abbo of Flcury (A.D. 990), after mastering, 
in the monastery of that place, grammar, arithmetic, logic, 
and music, went to Paris arid Rhcims for philosophy and astro 
nomy ; and afterwards taught himself rhetoric and geometry. 
Ralan (A.D. 822) left the school of Fulda for awhile for 
Al -urn s lectures, and learned Greek of a native of Ephesus. 
Walafrid (A.D. 840) passed from Richenau to Fulda. St. 
William (A.D. 98 <), dedicated by his parents to St. Benedict 
at St. Michael, s near Vorccllic, proceeded to study at Pavia. 
Gcrbert (A.D. 99)), one of the few cultivators of physics, after 
Fleury an Orleans, went to Spain. 6 St. Wolfgang (A.D. 994), 
after private instruction, went to Richenau. Lupus (A.D. 
840), after Ferri^rcs, was sent for a time to Fulda. Ful- 
bert too of Chartres (A. D. 1000), though not a monk, may be 
mentioned as sending his pupils in like manner to finish their 
studies at schools of more celebrity than his own. c 

History furnishes us with specimens of the subjects taught 
in this higher education. We read of Gerbcrt lecturing in 
Aristotle s Categories and the Isagogne of Porphyry ; St. Tho- 
dore taught the Anglo-Saxon youths Greek and mathematics ; 
Al -urn, all seven sciences at York ; and at some German mo 
nasteries there were lectures in Greek, d Hebrew, and Arabic. 
The monks of St. Benignus at Dijon gave lectures in medicine; 
the abbey of St. Gall had a school of painting and engraving ; 
the blessed Tubilo of that abbey was mathematician, painter, 
and musician. e We read of another monk of the same 
monastery, who was ever at his carpentry, when he was not at 
the altar ; and of another, who worked in stone. Hence Vi- 
truvius was in repute with them. Another accomplishment was 



a Vit. ap. Brun. Opp. od 1759. 6 Bruekor, t. 3, p. 646. 

c Thoraaw. Di*c. t. 2, p. 296-8. 

d Fredegodurf of Canterbury (A.D. 960) wrot in Qrook. Vid. Cnve s Hint. 
Litt. in nom. In the Lif> of St. 0<lo of Cantfirbury wo roiid that hie patron 
Atlieliu "Giacca. et Lath: A, linpiil magiHriH edoc<ndurn eurn tradi Iit, qunrurn lin- 
guarum il r f/u - t tune tflmpori- in gputo An^lorurn ucu.s orat, h di-cipulin heatte 
innnoiiuo Thodoii archiopi^copi profectut". Fuctu qut e*t in utrnque limnifl. 
valdfe i^naruc, ita ut poBfet popmatn finguro, continuar prosain, ?t omnia, quicquid 
c*i anima hcdo.ct, lucubmtbeimo scrmono proforro ". Mabillou Act. Siec. 5, 
p. 239. 

e We quoted in onr former article a papsajo from Brow<jr on the arts culti- 
TftfKl at Fuld-t. For a jjarall"! in the Eaet, vid. tho account of the mo&ks of 
Theodore Stivliu, vit. p. 29. Si-mond. 



28 . Schools of the Benedictines. 

that of copying manuscripts, which they did with a perfection 
unknown to the scholastic age which followed them. 1 

These manual arts, far more than the severer sciences, were 
the true complement of the Benedictine ideal of education, 
which, after all, was little more than a fair or a sufficient ac 
quaintance with Latin literature. Such is the testimony of the 
ablest men of the time. " To pass from Grammar to Rhetoric, 
and then in course to the other liberal sciences", says Lupus, 
speaking of France, is " fabula tantum "> "It has ever 
been the custom in Italy ", says Glaber Radulphus, writing of 
the year 1000, " to neglect all arts but Grammar." Gram 
mar, moreover, in the sense in which we have defined it, is no 
superficial study, nor insignifiant instrument of mental cultiva 
tion, and the school-task of the boy became the life-long re 
creation of the man. Amid the serious duties of their sacred 
vocation, the monks did not forget the books which had arrested 
and refined their young imagination. Let us turn to the fa 
miliar correspondence of some of these more famous Benedic 
tines, and we shall see what were the pursuits of their leisure, 
and the indulgences of their relaxation. Alcuin, in his letters 
to his friends, quotes Virgil again and again ; he also quotes 
Horace, Terence, Pliny, besides frequent allusions to the heathen 
philosophers. Lupus quotes Horace, Cicero, Suetonius, Virgil, 
and Martial. Gerbert quotes Virgil, Cicero, Horace, Terence, 
and Sallust. Pctrus Cellensis quotes Horace, Seneca, and 
Terence. Hildebert quotes Virgil and Cicero, and refers to 
Diogenes, Epictetus, Croesus, Themistocles, and other per 
sonages of Greek history. Hincmar of Rheims quotes Horace. 
Paschasius Radbert s favourite authors were Cicero and Terence. 
Abbo of Fleury was especially familiar with Terence, Sallust, 
Virgil, and Horace; Peter the Venerable, with Virgil and 
Horace ; Hepidamn of St. Gall took Sallust as a model of 
style. d 

Nor is their anxiety less to enlarge the range of their classical 
reading. Lupus asks Abbot Hatto through a friend for leave 

o Guizot. Civil., t. 2, p. 236 : Hallam, Lit. i., 1, 87. 
b Ep. 1. c Muratpri Dissert. 43, p. 831. 

d The School of Ouen produced 500 writers in 50 years. Landriot, p. 138. 
Vick the curious Letter of Grunzo, Marten., Ampl. Coll. t. 1, p. 29i. 



Schools of the Benedictines. 29 

to copy Suctonius s Lives of the Csesars, which is in the mo 
nastery of St. Boniface in two small codices. He sends to 
another friend to bring with him the Catilinarian and Jugur- 
than Wars of Sallust, the Verrines of Cicero, and any other 
volumes which his friend happens to know either that he has 
not, or possesses only in faulty copies, bidding him withal be 
ware of the robbers on his journey. Of another friend he asks 
the loan of Cicero s de Rhetorics , his own copy of which is 
incomplete, and of Aulus Gellius. In another letter he asks 
the Pope for Cicero s de Oratore, the Institutions of Quin- 
tillian, and the commentary of Donatus upon Terence. In like 
manner Gerbert tells Abbot Gisilbert, that he has the begin 
ning of the Ophthalmicus of the philosopher Demosthenes, 
and the end of Cicero s Pro rege Deiotaru ; and he wants to 
know if he can assist him in completing them for him. He 
asks a friend at Rome to send him by Count Guido the copies 
of Suetonius and Aurelius which belong to his archbishop and 
himself; he requests Constantino, the lecturer (scholasticus) 
at Floury, to bring him Cicero s Verrines and de Republics , 
and he thanks Remigius, a monk of Treves, for having begun 
to transcribe for him the Achilleid of Statius, though he had 
been unable to proceed with it for want of a copy. To other 
friends he speaks of Pliny, Caesar, and Victorinus. Alcuin s 
Library contained Pliny, Aristotle, Cicero, Virgil, Statius, 
and Lucan ; and he transcribed Terence with his own hand. 

Not only the memory of their own youth, but the necessity 
of transmitting to the next generation what they had learned 
in it themselves, kept them loyal to their classical acquirements. 
They were, in this aspect of their history, not unlike the fellows 
in our modern English universities, who first learn and then 
teach. It is impossible, indeed, to overlook their resscmblance 
generally to the elegant scholar of a day which is now waning, 
especially at Oxford, such as Lowth or Elmsly, Copleston or 
Keble, Howley or Parr, who thought little of science or philo 
sophy by the side of the authors of Greece and Rome. Nor is 
it too much to say, that the Colleges in the English Universi 
ties may be considered in matter of fact to be the lineal des- 



30 St. Ursula and the eleven thousand Virgins. 

cendants or heirs of the Benedictine schools of Charlemagne. * 
The modern of course has vastly the advantage in the compa 
rison ; for he is familiar with Greek, has an exacter criticism 
and purer taste, and a more refined cultivation of mind. He 
writes, verse at least, far better than the Benedictine, who had 
commonly little idea of it; and he has the accumulated aids of 
centuries in the shape of dictionaries and commentaries. 



ST. URSULA AND THE ELEVEN THOUSAND 
VIRGINS. ft 

( From the Rambler. ) 

THE life of St. Ursula is one that has much interest for the 
Englishman; she and her companions are said to have been 
natives of our island, and are supposed to have been connected 
with royal personages, the proof of whose existence would 
throw some light on the annals of our country. The author of 
the present remarkable work, which forms a part of the great 
Bollandist collection, confesses in the outset the difficulties 
which surround him. The lives of saints are generally meant 
for spiritual reading, not for historical criticism ; and the pious 
reader is apt to be disedified rather than encouraged in his 
devotion, if, instead of a swimming narrative of the wonders 
of the inner life, or miraculous external manifestations of 
sanctity, he finds only the truth of details called into question, 
and the traditionary legend criticised. There are persons who 
would think it almost a sacrilege to allow themselves to doubt 
about St. Ursula. But, on the other hand, there are most 
pious and learned Catholics who have almost resigned the hope 

"If Colleges, with their endowments and local interests . . are necessarily . 
. . of a national character, it follow* th.it the education which they will admi 
nister will also be national, and adapted to all ranks and classes of the commu 
nity. And if eo, then again it follows that they will be far more given to the 
9tul/ of the Arts than to the learned professions, or to any speciul class of pur 
suits at all ; and such in matter of fact has ever been the case. They hare inhe 
rited under changed circumstances the position of the monastic tcaehinn founded 
&v C larlcrm n, and have continued its primitive traditions, through, and in spite 
of, the noble intellectual developments, to which Univenitiea have given occa 
sion ". Newman s Ofllce and Work of Universities, p. 340, 1. 

De S. Ursula et unclecim rnillibus Sociaruta, Virginura et Martyrum 
Colonise A^rippioe, Asc, V. do JBuck, Preb. J- Brunei?, Greuee, 1853. 



St. Ursula and the eleven thousand Virgins. 31 

of reducing her history to any decent degree of probability. 
Baronius does not hesitate to call it " well-nigh fabulous." 
Between these two extremes there has been every variety of 
opinion with regard to all the principal circumstances of the 
history, the number of her martyred companions, and the epoch 
of their death. 

So little is known of these saints, and that so varying in 
detail and so uncertain, that their history cannot come under the 
usual idea of hagiography, but must belong to the critical and 
historical class of books. And as the first work of a critic is 
to destroy, so several of F. de Buck s earlier chapters are 
occupied in destroying the authenticity of the documents 
from which the common history of St. Ursula is taken. 
Several of these are revelations or visions of certain persons, 
since canonised or beatified, with which they were favoured on 
the occasion of the excitement which followed the discovery of 
the repositories of the relics of the martyrs in the twelfth cen 
tury. The unknown bones were taken to certain persons famed 
for their sanctity, who found no difficulty in divining the names 
and history of the persons to whom they had belonged. 

It certainly would be satisfactory if these histories could be 
proved to agree with genuine historical monuments, especially 
as those who " revealed" the information are reckoned among 
the saints. But as this proof was impossible, it only remained 
for the Bollandist father to show how, without any charge of 
mendacity or imposture against the person who is supposed to 
make the revelations, however strongly a divine inspiration 
may be asserted, such visions are always suspicious, to be 
trusted with the greatest caution, and, in fact, only fully be 
lieved after the event has proved them to be true. The " reve 
lations" about St. Ursula come from two persons^ Those of 
St. Elizabeth of Schoiiau are proved to be not divine, because, 
while they do not go beyond the power of mere imagination, 
they have all the properties of the products of an excited fancy : 
she had her revelations while in a diseased and feverish state 
while she was herself desirous, or expected by others to have 
them, or was asked to answer a question proposed to her ; she 
saw many things over and over again ; she revealed 



32 SI. Ursula and the eleven thousand Virgins. 

things, word for word, as she had read them in the Gospels or 
other histories; while, on the contrary, many were contradictory 
to one another and to historical truth. Besides all this, St. 
Elizabeth was too positive, and hardly modest enough in 
asserting her inspiration, which she could confirm by no miracles 
or other requisite signs o the supernatural. With regard to 
the* visions of B. Hermann Joseph, the other author of these 
revelations, F. de Buck, while allowing that he passed nearly 
the whole of his life in a state of ecstasy, with his mind 
continually fixed on God and on sacred things, yet maintains 
that persons in this conditions have complete liberty of 
imagination and fancy. With Papebroche and Benedict XIV. , 
he distinguishes the substance of their visions from the 
accidents. The mind may really be fixed on divine things, 
and may be assisted by God in the contemplation of them; yet 
the active imagination and fancy may be surrounding the central 
idea passively impressed on the mind with all kinds of 
additions, which owe their origin not to God but to the mind 
itself, and yet are liable to be confused with that which the 
mind receives from God. 

Instances of the same kind take place continually. In our 
daily meditations we all know that the grace of God and the 
gift of faith help us to apply our minds to the mysteries we 
contemplate : yet we each have our own way of representing 
these mysteries; the imagination of each person, though assisted 
by God, gives the mystery a different clothing and colour. In 
other words, we ea.ch of us represent these things to ourselves 
in a different way. Whence this difference ? Certainly not 
from God s assistance ; which, though one and invariable, yet 
leaves the imagination at liberty. The case of ecstatics is 
the same, oflly raised to a higher power. While we meditate, 
we are generally sufficiently g.live to external things to know 
exactly where our fancy begins to transport us beyond the 
phenomena which actually surround us. But in an ecstasy 
people see no more of external things than they do in sleep ; 
the external term of the comparison is wanting ; and the 
internal image is the only phenomenon that presents itself, and 
is therefore necessarily judged to be a true representation of a 



SI. Ursula and the eleven thousand Virgins. 3% 

present reality. In an ecstasy, therefore, persons are much 
more liable to be deceived than otherwise. In saying this, we 
do not detract either from the high state of an ecstatic, or from 
the sanctity of those who give entire credit to all they have 
imagined in that state. The grace of God was with them in 
elevating their mind, and in abstracting it entirely from things 
of earth ; but it did not destroy the freedom of the imagination. 
Though their outward senses were closed, their minds were 
wakeful, and every inward power was increased in activity. 
It is for this reason that we must not expect such visions to 
contain historical truth. Not that God is unable to teach us 
such truth by means of visions, for He has often done so ; 
many visions of saints, as those of St. Ignatius of Antioch, 
St. Felicitas, and others, wera really fulfilled : we only affirm 
that when God helps us to fix our minds entirely on the 
mysteries of our faith, He generally leaves our imaginations 
free to surround these mysteries with such clothing and 
colouring as our imagination and fancy are able to produce. 

After disposing of these visionary histories, our author 
conducts us to Geoffrey of Momnouth, whose historical authority 
is annihilated by comparing his fictions with the real history of 
the Armorican Britons. From all these sources, however, the 
author gathers up a small thread of consenting tradition, 
which he follows till he is able to set the history of St. Ursula 
on a certain basis. The conduct of this inquiry leads him to 
give a most interesting account of the invasion of Gaul by 
Attila and the Huns in the middle of the fifth century, 
introduced by an essay on the origin and first wanderings of 
that people, and on their history to the end of the fourth 
century, in which he sums up all the learning, ancient and 
modern, that has been expended on that obscure point. He 
traces with great completeness their incursion into Gaul ; on 
their return from which he proves that they massacred the 
martyrs of Cologne. There is not very much positive 
testimony that Cologne was one of the cities destroyed by 
them ; but by a minute analysis of the annals of that town he 
proves that certain ravages there committed must be attributed 
to the Huns, of whose wholesale brutality he brimrs sufficient 



4 St. Ursula and the eleven thousand Virgins. 







examples. The last point to be proved was the British origin 
of the martyrs, which he owns rests on a less sure foundation 
than the rest of the legend. Yet the most ancient traditions 
concur in calling them British ; and the political state of 
Britain at that epoch makes their emigration probable ; 
especially when contemporary history contains traces of the 
presence of Britons at the mouths of the Rhine, where they 
appear to have acted as missionaries. The received legend of 
the 11,000 virgins under St. Ursula emigrating together, 
then making their pilgrimage to Rome, and being butchered on 
their return at Cologne, is absurd enough ; but that there 
was some such pilgrimage, which served as the foundation of 
the legend, is proved from a passage of St. Gregory of Tours. 
Altogether, then, the history of St. Ursula rests on a real foun 
dation ; under the disfigured traditions much truth lies hid, 
which may be brought to light by means of a diligent compa 
rison of the data of the traditions with the data of other histo 
rical documents of the era. 

The author sums up his history in the following manner. 
It is a great mistake to suppose that there arc no monuments 
of St. Ursula and the 11,000 virgins more ancient than the 
eleventh century and the irruption of the Normans. By a 
comparison of different documents, we can show that a 
monastic basilica was built in honour of the virgins about the 
year 500, or at least before the beginning of the seventh 
century No more valid testimony than this can be required. 
Next, there is a sermon for their festival- day, which must have 
been composed between the years 781 and 834, and by which 
it appears clearly that at that time the memory of the holy 
virgins was fresh, not only in Cologne, but in Batavia and 
Britain. Rather more ancient than this is the office of the 
virgins which was used at Cologne. Next come a series of 
archives and deeds relating to the basilica of the "holy vir 
gins," or "the 11,000 holy virgins," as it is indifferently called; 
the most ancient of these is of the year 852. Lastly come 
certain martyrologies of the middle of the ninth century. All 
these monuments are previous to the entrance of the Normans 
into Cologne in 881. 



St. Ursula and the eleven thousand Virgins. 35 

It is therefore evidently false to assert that all the history 
of St. Ursula was invented after the departure of the Normans, 
when the people of Cologne began to recover their peace and 
quiet. On the contrary, there is a vast series of monuments 
previous to that time, the earliest of which approaches close to 
the time of the martyrdom. But the evidence does not rest 
entirely on written monuments. In the year 1640 the catacomb 
where the virgins were said to be buried was opened, and every 
thing was found which could verify the written evidence. The 
antiquity of the tomb was* proved by the coins found in it ; its 
Christian character, .by the bodies not having been burned. 
The bodies had been wrapped up in their garments, as martyrs 
were ordered to be buried ; the arrows and weapons with which 
they had been killed were found with the bones ; on one shelf 
there were nothing but heads, arms, legs, and other parts of 
bodies; in the corners, vases full of sand that had been saturated 
with blood ; in fact, most of the proofs of martyrdom which arc 
reckoned valid when found in the catacombs of Rome. 

Since, therefore, it would be absurd to doubt of the martyr 
dom of some persons to whom these monuments belong, it 
remains to inquire who they were, and who killed them. The 
traditions, however various in other points, agree in this that 
the Huns were the murderers ; and the different circumstances 
fully agree with this account. The virgins are said to have 
died in defence of their chastity, not for any articles of the 
faith ; this corresponds with the accounts we have from different 
authors of the boundless licentiousness of the Huns. Again, 
the instruments of their martyrdom were arrows the especial, 
almost the national weapon 01 the Huns. 

It only remains, therefore, to investigate the road which 
the Huns must have taken in their retreat from Gaul in 451. 
They entered Gaul by Coblenz, in the winter ; occupied Metz 
about March 25, and besieged Orleans till the middle of June. 
They had taken the city, and were carrying off their booty, 
when Aetius came on them unawares and routed them. They 
then retired to Chalons-sur-Marne, whither Aetius pursued 
them, and fought the famous battle, in which 200,000 human 
beings arc said to have perished. Attila lost his camp, the 



36 St. Ursula and the eleven thousand Virgins. 

Goths lost their king Theodoric, and both sides seem to have 
dreaded another engagement. Aetius did not follow up his 
victory, as he thought the Huns a good counterpoise against the 
Goths and Franks, who otherwise might combine against the 
Romans. Attila therefore kept quiet for some time, till he 
saw that he was not attacked ; and then fell upon the Verman- 
dois, and took Soissons, Cambray, and Arras, which he entirely 
destroyed ; and afterwards penetrated to Tournay, and then to 
Tongres, and so into Thuringia, a territory then so called on 
the left bank of the Rhine from whence, in order to reach his 
own country, he must have crossed the river at Cologne. By a 
comparison of dates, F. de Buck makes out that this passage 
must have taken place about the middle of October ; while, one 
the other hand, the martyrdom of the holy virgins is placed on 
the 21st of that month. All these things together lead to the 
conclusion that these martyrs really suffered at Cologne at the 
hands of the Huns, on the return of the barbarians from their 
fatal expedition into Gaul, about Oct. 21, 451. 

Who, then, were these "eleven thousand virgins"? The 
number is authentic, and is found on the oldest monuments : 
but according to the most ancient traditions, it is not for a 
moment to be supposed that they were all virgins, but only 
some of the chief of them, whose martyrdom was more strik 
ing ; the rest were of both sexes, including priests and fathers 
and mothers of families, in fact, all the victims of an irruption 
of barbarians into a great city. They were called martyrs, 
because the custom of those times was to honour with that title 
every one who suffered death unjustly with piety and patience. 
Some of these, and especially some of the virgins, may easily 
have been British damsels, passing through Cologne on their 
way to or from Rome, as the tradition relates ; others may 
have been captives brought from the sacked towns of Gaul, and 
put to death here by the Huns, because the bridge over the 
Rhine was broken, and Aetius was pressing on behind them, 
and it would have been difficult to take their captives across. 

Our short summary of F. de Buck s goodly folio will suffice 
to show to what category of books his work belongs. It is no 
brilliant ^-priori theory of history, but it is a laborious and 



Hofer and the Tyrolcse War of Independence. 37 

minute comparison of a vast quantity of historical monuments, 
collected with immense patience, and put together with great 
acumen and good sense. The result is not a work for pious 
meditation, but a repertory for the historian of the fifth cen 
tury. The respectful but free way in which nntenable tradi 
tions are treated is a lesson and a model for other writers ; and 
we cannot withhold the expression of our admiration at the 
manner in which historical truth is brought to light, at the 
expense of no matter what prejudices or cherisched traditions. 
Though the work naturally appeals only to the few, those few 
are persons who require every now and then to be reminded 
that facts are better than baseless theories or fanciful genera 
lisations. 



HOFER AND THE TYROLESE WAR 
OF INDEPENDENCE. 

THE records of war are ordinarily the records of little else 
besides misery and crime. Even when the amount of abstract 
injustice is not equal on both sides engaged, there is little to 
honour or admire in the animating principles of the belligerents; 
while in the actual conduct of their deadly rivalry there is rarely 
any thing to be discerned but a contest of passion, blood- 
thirstiness, and selfishness. For the most part, nations quarrel 
like children, and fight like devils. 

What are popularly termed "religious wars" are no exception 
to the rule. However holy the professed object of one party 
involved, the conduct of such wars has been almost always, to a 
considerable extent, unchristian and detestable. Purity of 
motive and uprightness and mercy in action have been usually 
confined to a small handful of individuals. The dominant 
spirit has been entirely that of this world, even while its watch 
words have been most distinctively the language of the Gospel 
and the Cross. 

Here and there, however, the eye of the historian detects a 
brighter spot in these long dismal annals of darkness and horror. 
It is possible to point to episodes in the wide history of 



38 Hofer and the Tyrolcse war of Independence. 

bloodshedding, when men have fought like Christians, and not 
like beasts or devils ; wielding the sword not only in word, but 
in reality, " in the name of God;" penetrated with a sense of 
the awful responsibility they had undertaken, and with emo 
tions of love and mercy beating in their hearts, while their 
arms has been lifted up to strike, and their countenance hag 
shown no trace of fear. 

To the Catholic it is consolatory to reflect, that it has been 
under the influence of the faith that the most striking exhibi 
tions of this really Christian warfare have been displayed to 
his fellow- creatures. Insulted as we arc by the vilest imputa 
tions of cruelty, licentiousness, and disregard of all ties of 
patriotism, it is a glorious thing to turn silently and read the 
histories of wars in which, under the direct sanction of Catho 
licism, human nature has shown itself courageous, enduring, 
patriotic, and merciful, to an extent altogether unapproached 
by those who taunt us with every degrading vice. While it is 
daily dinned into our ears, till we are well-nigh stunned, that 
under the dark influence of Popery the world must necessarily 
go backwards, and all our powers be paralysed, until, by the 
sheer repetition of extravagant charges, we begin almost to 
suspect that we arc rogues without knowing it, it is soothing 
to let the imagination wander back to countries where Catho 
licism has been enibracad and really acted on, unmolested 
either by Protestant preacher or liberal statesman ; where it has 
shown its vivifying power over the soul, unaided and unhin 
dered either by royal patronage or aristocratical wealth. While 
the world is driving on at its own chosen rate of " progress, " 
it is instructive to turn and watch the ways of other and 
humbler races, whose civilisation has not consisted in railways, 
crystal-palaces, screw-steamers and the penny-post ; but in 
simplicity, hardihood, comparative poverty, and unmitigated 
" Romanism. " 

For, after all, " progress" is not necessarily progress to 
happiness and greatness. There is a knowledge which is more 
.stultifying than ignorance ; there is a power which is more 
degrading than weakness. It is possible to be great, glorious, 
and heroic, with very simple appliances ; and the utmost amount 



Hofer and the Tyrolcse Wtor of Independence. 39 

of material civilisation, comfort, and order, is perfectly com 
patible with a very low degree of excellence in all that is most 
honourable in man, as man, and in woman, as woman. It is 
not crabs alone that can " progress " backwards. 

Perhaps no spot in Europe is more suggestive of the remi 
niscences of a noble yet simple civilisation than the mountai 
nous district of the Tyrolese Alps. Bordering upon Switzer 
land, that country of pretence, hypocrisy, and tyranny, for 
generations has been found a race where faith and patriotism 
have dwelt in intimate alliance, and the achievements of labour 
ing mountaineers have rivalled those of the most celebrated 
soldiers of the world. The traveller, reeking from the hot and 
artificial life of England or France, on reaching the Tyrol finds 
himself in a new world of freshness and genial simplicity. He 
is surrounded by a people among whom education is not only 
general but universal, for none can marry unless they can read 
and write ; but who, nevertheless, are till Catholics, and, as a 
race, as universally devout as perhaps any nation has ever been 
since Christianity has existed. Manly, frank, and vigorous, 
the Tyrolese unites in a remarkable degree a devotion to a 
royal house with a personal independence of mind and capa 
city for practical action. His wealth is little, but his desires 
are few ; lie has the art of mingling pleasure with labour ; the 
vices of civilisation are knonw to him more by report than by 
experience ; he loves the liberties of his country like a rational 
man, who knows that there can be no liberty without law, and 
no law without obedience ; and in the possession of rare and 
present advantages, he is content to live on without schemes of 
change, and to love that which is, all the more dearly because 
his country has flourished for centuries under institutions and 
with habits almost identical with those which he sees around 
him still. 

If the stranger question him as to the past history of his 
country, he perceives, nevertheless, that in his open and peace 
ful mind there yet linger memories of a bloody struggle, when 
all this fair state of tranquillity and labour was for a timo 
crushed beneath the heel of cruelty and a godless lust of do 
minion. Even among his favourite sculp turcd images, the 



40 Hofer and the Tyrolese War of Independence. 

works of the hereditary handicraft of his people, and for the 
most part religious in its aspect, singular figures appear, little 
known, or altogether unheard of, out of his own country. In 
innumerable houses appears a warlike innkeeper ; and, stranger 
still, in modern times, a Capuehin friar sword in hand, the 
remembrance of whose deeds is cherished by every rank with 
a fervour of gratitude, in comparison of which the recollections 
of the heroes of other countries are faint and dim. If there is 
such a thing as lasting national thankfulness, Hofer, the land 
lord of an inn at Passeyr, and Haspinger, the Capuchin, nick 
named Redbeard, have unquestionably lived in the affections 
of their fellow-countrymen with a posthumous glory seldom 
equalled in countries of more artificial cultivation, where the 
hero of yesterday is usually forgotten in the hero of to-day. 

The history of that struggle which was long maintained by 
Hofer, with the aid of the Capuchin and other subordinates, 
against the overwhelming power of France and Bavaria, is in 
deed one of the most extraordinary records of courageous and 
skilful resistance against irresistible force which modern annals 
have preserved. Like so many of the miseries of Europe dur 
ing the last seventy years, it had its origin in the revolution in 
France. For many centuries the Tyrolese had enjoyed as large 
an amount of national liberty as was possible under the old 
political system of Europe. Subjected to the sway of the 
Austrian house of Hapsburg, the people were nevertheless 
practically free. In their mountain fastnesses they possessed 
a constitution in many respects similar to that of the great free 
cities of Germany in the middle ages. That virtual independ 
ence which the powers of advancing commerce secured to 
Lubeck, to Freiburg, to Hamburg, to Erfurt, to Cologne, to 
Ratisbon, and many other centres of peaceful traffic, was con 
firmed to the simpler Tyrolese by the strength of their moun 
tain passes, and the undaunted vigour, courage, and straight 
forwardness of their personal character. The imperial domi 
nion, purely monarchical as it was in name, was held in check 
by many local rights and privileges, and still more by the in 
fluence of a moral and physical nobleness, so that the position 
of a Tyrolese was practically as free and self-legislating as that 



Hofer and the Tywlese Jl r ar of Independence. 41 

of the electing and governing classes in representative England 
ui this very hour. 

In the earlier period of the " Reformation," when the do 
minion of Austria in Switzerland was tottering to its founda 
tions, the allegiance of the Tyrol, still stedfast in the ancient 
faith, was conciliated by a renewed confirmation of its heredi 
tary privileges ; and thus externally free, subject to its own 
taxation alone, and with political power diffused alike through 
the peasantry and the nobles, the Tyrol remained up to the 
battle of Austerlitz a free, honoured, prosperous, simple, and 
Catholic country, amidst the shock of empires and the degrada 
tion of all principle which characterised the eighteenth century 
of European history. 

At length the storm lurst upon the heads of the mountai 
neers. Such a race as the Tyrolese was intolerable alike to 
the military autocracy of Napoleon, and the crafty officialism 
of such monarchs as Louis XIV. of France and Joseph II, 
of Austria. Joseph, however, had left the Tyrol but little 
injured by those pernicious "reforms through which he had 
reduced his German subjects to so low a level of religion, 
morals, and political strength ; and the attachment of the 
Tyrolese to the Austrian monarchy remained ardent and un 
impaired. AYhen Austria, however, was prostrated at Auster 
litz, and Napoleon, unresisted, set about the re -arrangement 
of the various territories which formed the old Germanic em 
pire, on no country did the hand of the conqueror fall more 
heavily than on the Tyrol. The policy of Nepoleon at that 
moment lay in elevating the minor states of Germany to .some 
species of rivalry with the power of Austria, hitherto, save so 
far as Prussia was concerned, exclusively preponderant. He 
sought to convert the petty electors into the creatures of 
France, or rather of himself, by turning their sovereigns into 
kings and dukes, and by enriching them with spoils torn from 
their more powerful neighbours. Wurtemberg was made a 
kingdom, and received the Austrian possessions in Swabia. 
Baden became a grand-duchy, with the gift of Constance, the 
Breisgau, and the Ortenau. Bavaria shared the most largely 
in the booty. Her elector was turned into a king ; with the 





42 Hofcr and the Tyrolcse Wyr of Independence. 

sovereignty (such as it was, when conferred by Napoleon,) of 
Anspach and Bayreuth, stolen from Prussia, and a consider 
able slice of the Austrian territories, of which the most im 
portant portion was the Tyrol. The creatures of the conqueror 
and his Bavarian serf-king endeavoured to infuse an anti- 
German spirit into his subjects ; and on the 1st of January 1806 
the Bavarian State- Gazette announced the great achievement 
"with the words, " Long live Napoleon, the restorer of the Ba 
varian kingdom ! " while a herd of writers attempted to prove 
that the Bavarians were not German by ancestry, but origin 
ally a Gallic tribe under Gallic sovereigns. 

Nowhere was the usurping power of Bavaria more hateful 
than among theTyrolese mountains. A hundred years before 
they had been engaged in a conflict with these same grasping 
Bavarians, and had successfully resisted their invading troops, 
who as now were in alliance with the French. In June 1703 
the Bavarian elector had entered the Tyrol at the head of 
16,000 men; and seizing Innspruck, its capital, had advanced 
up the country with the view of subduing the people in their 
fastnesses. The whole country rose in arms, and the German 
soldiery felt what it was to attack a peasant-patriot in his own 
home. One of the chief leaders of the people was of no higher 
rank than that of postmaster ; but the Bavarians were almost 
annihilated. Shot down by the riflemen, crushed by huge 
masses of rock and timber rolled upon them from the tops of 
the cliffs, one after another of the various divisions of the in 
vading army gave way and fled. The peasants even fabricated 
cannon from hollowed fir-trees, sufficiently fire-proof to stand 
eight or ten discharges. In the end, of the 16,000 who had 
entered the Tyrol, only 5000 ever regained Bavaria. 

A less prosperous issue attended the heroic resistance made 
in 1806 to the enforcement of the Bavarian usurpation, ac 
companied as it was by a] reckless violation of the engagement 
by which Maximilian Joseph, the Bavarian sovereign, had 
bound himself to respect intact the national rights and cus 
toms of the Tyrolese people. The act by which he professed 
to inaugurate his rule over the Tyrol, dated January 14, 1806, 
not only strongly to uphold the constitution of the 



Hofcr and the, Tyrolese War of Independence. 43 

country and the well-earned rights and privileges of the people, 
but also to promote their welfare." This pledge, moreover, 
was repeated again and again with an obstrusive reiteration, 
which, to those who knew what Bavaria meant by promoting a 
nation s welfare, was sufficient to awaken the gravest appre 
hensions. 

In a certain sense amiable and benevolent, Maximilian of 
Bavaria was a true disciple of the Austrian Joseph II. Nomi 
nally Catholic, nominally liberal, and nominally philosophical, 
the political system adopted and carried out by the " reform 
ing " emperor was in reality and result as anti-Catholic, de 
spotic, and shallow, as any one of those many theories which 
have been devised for the sudden regeneration of mankind in 
the cabinets of self-conceited sophists. The Bavarian king 
lost no time in proving himself an adept in this pernicious 
school. Every thing the Tyrolese held dear, every thing that 
constituted their happiness in this life and their hopes for 
eternity, was attacked under the pretence that it was for their 
good that national honour, personal liberty, venerated customs, 
and religious objects of veneration, should be torn from them 
and trampled under foot by insolent strangers. " Jesuit ob 
scurantism " was, of course, the cant cry with which the new 
measures were heralded. Vulgar Bavarian official insolence 
entered into a league with the infidel frivolity of the French 
philosophism of Voltaire and the Revolution, and hand in hand 
proceeded to " reform" the Tyrol. 

The first blows were naturally aimed at what they called 
" superstition. " The Tyrol abounded with small mountain 
chapels, whose artistic simplicity was a symbol of the pure, 
honest, and fervent piety which loved thus to remind itself of 
the nothingness of time and the goodness of God, wherever the 
labourer s toils were earned on, or the traveller s steps might 
take him. Even now, the few that remain of these monuments 
of humble devotion touch the heart of the non-Catholic visitor, 
and how much more that of the Catholic, more sweetly than 
the most magnificent achievements of Christian art in the rich 
centres of a luxurious population. But to the Bavarian and 
French illnminati these were hateful objects ; lind the Tyroleso 



44 Hoferandthc Tyrolesc. War of Independence . 

saw them levelled to the ground with every mark of ridicule 
and contempt ; while images, crucifixes, relics, long held in 
veneration and associated with the reminiscences of generations 
of faith, were destroyed, or, what was worse, sold to the Jews. 

When religion was thus treated, liberty of course fared no 
better. In former times, no recruits for the Austrian service 
were levied by the emperor in the Tyrol, with the exception of 
those for the rifle-corps ; and these enjoyed peculiar privileges 
of their own, electing their commanders and wearing their na 
tional dress. The Bavarians laughed at these rights ; and an 
attempted military conscription served only to kindle the ardour 
of the mountaineers to a more strenuous determination to seize 
the first moment for throwing off the usurping yoke. The 
ancient Tyrolean diet was unceremoniously dissolved, the Ba 
varians not even thinking it worth while to preserve the sem 
blance of independence ; while they showed their contempt for 
Tyrolean nationality by abolishing the very name of the Tyrol, 
and calling the country " Southern Bavaria. " By way of 
crowning these injuries with reckless insult, they actually sold 
by auction the ancient national edifice, or castle, which by a 
popular legend was held to confer on its possessor the lawful 
right to the sovereignty of the nation. New and exorbitant 
taxes were levied, and collected with every display of coarse 
and insolent brutality, among a people who hitherto had taxed 
themselves, and that with a gentle hand. Altogether, short of 
universal pillage, massacre, and confiscation, it would have 
been difficult for an unpopular government to have clone more 
to exasperate the feelings of a conquered people to the highest 
pitch of indignation. 

Such was the condition of affairs in the Tyrol, when Austria 
roused herself to an attempt to throw off the dominion of Na 
poleon. The French emperor was engaged in the Spanish 
Peninsula : the galling bitterness of the new dominion was felt 
to be more trying than all the abuses of the old German 
empire ; while Napoleon s conduct towards the Pope, whom he 
had imprisoned in Home itself, had roused the indignation of 
all good Catholics. In the beginning of the year 1809, 
Austria raised an army of four hundred thousand men, and 



Hofer and the. Tyrolese War of Independence. 45 

issued proclamations, calling upon every true-hearted German 

to strike for the liberties of his country. We need not follow 

the course of the brief struggle that ensued, when Napoleon, 

dividing the eastern nations of Germany from the western, led 

his troops, with but one severe reverse at Aspern, from victory 

to victory ; till the battle of Wagram annihilated the hopes of 

Austria, and the peace of Vienna saw her stripped of fresh 

portions of her territory, for the advantage of France, Bavaria, 

and Russia. It was in the Tyrol alone that for a time the 

cause of justice and religion seemed about to triumph. Had 

all Germans been like the brave and Catholic Tyrolese, thero 

, would have been no need of Waterloo. The record of their 

I fruitless devotion, and the mournful end of their most disting- 

\ uished leader, is among the saddest and most truly glorious 

I episodes which adorn the history of Christian patriotism. 

Andrew Hofer was at that time forty-two years of age. 
He was the landlord of an inn at Passeyr, in the Passcyrthal, 
a valley among the mountains about half-way between Inn- 
spruck and Trent, on the right hand of the road as the traveller 
journeys from the former to the latter town. Some years be 
fore the Bavarian usurpation, he had represented his native 
valley at the national diet, and had strenuously opposed the 
anti-Catholic measures which Joseph II. had been endeavouring 

o 

to introduce among the Tyrolese. Later, he had served as 
captain of a rifle-corps against the French in 1705 ; and when, 
in 1805, the transference of the Tyrol to Bavaria took place, 
the Austrian Archduke John hud parted from the patriotic 
innkeeper with a shako of the hand, and an expression of hope 
that they would o;eet again in better times. 

Among his countrymen he possessed remarkable popularity. 
Tolerably well educated, and of that open, cordial, genial dis 
position which his countrymen dearly loved, he was as power 
ful in frame as he was pious in heart and upright in 
life. His make is described as Herculean in breadth ; though 
he stooped in the shoulders, from his early carrying of heavy 
weights over the mountains. His voice was gentle and agree 
able, his countenance handsome, and rendered striking by an 
immense dark beard, which hung almost to his waist, in ac- 



46 Hofer and the Tyrolcse War of Independence. 

cordance with a custom prevailing among the innkeepers ol: 
the valleys. Hofcr, moreover, is reported to have cherished 
his beard with perculiar attention, in consequence of a wager 
of a pair of oxen which he had made with some of his friends. 
His portrait shows him in the ordinary dress of his class, with 
a low-crowned broad-brimmed hat, decorated with a black 
curling feather ; a red waistcoat, across which were broad 
green braces of a peculiar make, supporting black chamois- 
leather breeches ; and over all a loose green coat. His knees 
were bare, and his mighty legs encased in high boots. On his 
ample chest reposed his crucifix, a silver medal of St. George 
and the gold medal and chain sent him by the emperor. Tc 
a stout black belt was attached his sword, literally his broad 
sword. His spirit was best seen when he was at his prayers ; 
and his broad, honest, manly face shone with that deep and 
unaffected devotion which was the life-spring of his patriotism, 
and at once animated and chastened his undaunted courage. 
He dealt in wine, corn, and horses ; his business-intercourse 
was extensive, and he was known and respected to the extreme 
Italian frontier of his country. 

The moment that Austria believed that the hour was come 
for a general effort at bursting the intolerable bondage imposed 
by Napoleon, Hofer was summoned to Vienna, and the plans 
were laid for a rising among the mountaineers. The town- 
population was either too much under the control of Bavarian 
officials, or too lukewarm in its attachment to its religion and 
its old loyalty, to be taken into the arrangements. How well 
the peasantry were to be trusted is shown by the fact, that 
while, on a moderate estimate, not less than 60,000 men were 
cognisant of what was going on, and participators in the in 
tended revolt, not one betrayed the secret. At Innspruck, the 
Bavarian commander Kinkel remained quietly with his army, 
directing his attention solely to the expected advance of an 
army from Austria, and utterly unconscious of the mine about 
to be sprung at his feet. 

Suddenly the whole country burst into a flame. Unsus 
pected by their military rulers, many thousand Tyrolese were 
in arms, organised, commanded by duly- appointed leaders, and 



Hofer and the Tyrolese War of Independence. 47 

waiting only for the signal agreed on, to meet and attack the 
Bavarians and the French troops then quartered in the Tyrol. 
On the 9th of April the signal was given. Sawdust and little 
pieces of wood, with red flags fastened to them, were seen by 
the anxious eyes of the people to be floating down the stream" 
of the Inn. Tne sky had been dark and gloomy, and favoured 
the midnight gathering of the peasant-soldiery. By three 
o clock the van advanced up the Pusterthal ; and in a few hours 
fires were lighted all over the mountain-heights, and the val 
leys re-echoed with the clanging of alarm-bells and the boom 
ing of distant guns. 

Every where the insurgents were greeted with the most 
enthusiastic demonstration on the part of the peasantry. The 
village-bells rang as they passed ; men, women, and children 
flocked out to cheer them. The aged and blind were brought 
out of their cottages to bless them, and pray for their victory: 
in crowds they gathered around .them, shaking their hands, 
touching their clothes, and even kissing their horses. 

The first blow fell upon a body of Bavarian sappers, who 
had been detached to blow up the bridge of St. Lorenzo, in 
the Pusterthal, in anticipation of an advance of the Austrian 
army. The Tyrolcse riflemen, from their hiding-places, picked 
off the Bavarians as they approached to their work, and the 
entire detachment, amazed and terrified, tc 
their commander, however, speedily came up at the head of 
two battalions, and the fight began. The Bavarian artillery 
was quickly captured, and thrown into the river; but being 
joined by a strong detachment of French, the issue of the 
day for a time seemed doubtful. A small accession of Aus 
trian horse turned the scale in favour of the mountaineers, and 
the French and Bavarians fled, suffering immense loss. The 
unerring rifles of the peasantry shot them down from every 
side ; rocks and timber dashed down the cliffs upon their heads; 
and the day ended in a decisive victory. 

Hofer was not present in person, being engaged with the 
peasantry of Passeyr, Meran, and Algund, in occupying a road 
near Sterzing, with the intention of dislodging another body of 
Bavarians there stationed. On the morning of the llth the 



48 Hofer and the Tyrulcsc War of Independtnct. 

fight began, and the Bavarians for a time defied all HoferV 
attempts ; though they suficred frightfully from the Tyrolesu 
rifles, the v%ry artillerymen being shot down by the side oi! 
their guns. At last a waggon loaded with hay, and driven by 
a girl, the daughter of a tailor named Camper, advanced towards 
the Bavarians ; behind which the Tyrolese advanced upon the 
open plain on which the Bavarians were stationed, protected 
by their artillery against a peasant host armed with pitchforks , 
spears, and every rude implement they could lay their hand-, 
on. The bullets whistled past the heroic girl, as she guidci . 
the characteristic screen, and shouted to her countrymen, u OiL 
with you! who cares for Bavarian dumplings? 5 A desperate 
struggle ensued, and the best officers of the Bavarians wer<; 
killed, and the whole body either slain or mc.de prisoners. 

Meanwhile, a third party of peasantry had been rising ih 
the lower valley of the Inn. whose aim was to seize upon Inn- 
spruck, and destroy the Bavarian power at its centre. A 
wealthy peasant, or farmer, was the leader of his countrymen , 
by name Joseph Speckbacher, a man who showed extraor 
dinary energies and heroism during the war now commencing. 
He was a tall and powerfully-built man, about forty years o:> 
age, stooping in his gait, with a serious and even sad counte 
nance; though on the mention of the war, or of the interest,; 
of his country, his face gleamed with brightness, and he stcjpit 
erect with sudden ardour. His father, who was superintenden ; 
of the salt- works at Halle, and had fought with distinction j 
against the Bavarians, died when Joseph was but six years old 
A few years afterwards his mother also died, and he was sen;; 
to school ; but could not be taught either to read or write : 
ho was of a wild, roving disposition, and the discipline of i^ 
school was intolerable to his untamed spirit. When he waJJ 
twelve years old, he formed a connection with some others a;jj 
wild as himself, and roamed about the Bavarian forest country, 
living a kind of poaching, rascally life, a source of annoyance; 
to all whom he came across, and a disgrace to his name and! 
country. In one of his expeditions, one of his companion, ! 
was killed before his eyes by a Bavarian soldier ; and from tha ;| 
&y Speckbacher was struck with a deep sense of the degraded 



Hoftr and the Tyrolese War of Independence. 49 

character of the life he had been leading. He instantly re 
formed, and the whole energies of his character were devoted 
to the duties of a respectable life. At twenty- seven years old 
he married a woman of some little property, who persuaded 
him to learn reading and writing. Thus making up for the 
deficiencies of his boyhood, he became a person of considerable 
importance in his native country ; and in the war of indepen 
dence exercised an authority over his fellow-countrymen of 
the same kind, though inferior in degree, to that possessed by 
Hofer himself. From every church-tower in the valley the 
alarm-bells pealed. Throughout the day women and children 
were employed in distributing in all quarters scraps of paper, 
on which was written " It is time ! " As soon as night arrived , 
Speckbacher seized upon the city of Hall. Lighting numerous 
watch-fires on one side of the walls, as if he were about to 
attack it on that quarter, he himself, in the darkness, went 
round to the opposite gates, and presented himself as a com 
mon passenger for admittance. The ruse succeeded ; the gates 
were opened ; Speckbacher with his followers rushed in and 
made prisoners of the garrison, amounting to 400 men. 

On the morning of the llth, the attack on Innspruck be 
gan. Each party had made what preparations were possible; 
the Bavarians placing artillery on the bridges, and taking up 
the best positions for defence ; the Tyrolese blocking up every 
outlet for escape for the enemy, whom they already regarded 
as vanquished; blockading the roads leading from the city 
with barricades of trees, and destroying the bridges over the 
streams. Early on the morning of the 12th, a body of the 
peasantry advanced, armed with muskets, and poles with bay 
onets fastened to the ends, and seized one of the bridges lead 
ing to the city. The impetuosity of their charge overwhelmed 
the Bavarians, many of whom were killed at their guns before 
they had time to discharge them. Shouting "Vivat Franz! 
Down with the Bavarians ! " they drove the troops before 
them, striking them down with the butt- ends of their muskets, 
forcing them headlong into the river, and closely following the 
remainder to the city-gates, and entering with them. 

It was now o clock in the morning, and the battle became 



50 Hofer and the Tyrolese War of Independenet. 

,il. Such of the Bavarians as were stationed on tiic roof>? 
and at the windows oP the houses, were attacked with so fierce, 
a fire, that they threw down their arms in the streets 
and Legged for mercy. In other houses the citizens fought 
for the peasants, and murderous discharges from the houses 
and towers were poured upon the soldiery. Dittfurt, the 
second in command under Kinkel, fought desperately in the 
streets, encouraging, entreating, and commanding his men ; 
and at length, almost alone, threw himself upon a body of 
the Tyrolese who Wre in possession of the house of the 
commander- in- chief, and pressing him to surrender. He had 
already received two wounds in his body ; a third ball now 
struck him in the breast ; he fell on his knees, while the blood 
gushed from his mouth. Some peasants came near to make 
him prisoner, when he raised himself, and called feebly to his 
men to advance, and not ily like cowards. A fourth ball 
smote his head, and he dropped insensible. Four days after 
wards he died, cursing and blaspheming in wild delirium. He 
was deservedly abhorred by the peasants, having made himself 
peculiarly obnoxious by the cruelties he had practised upon 
them in the discharge of functions sufficiently odious in them 
selves. He had boasted, that " with his regiment and a 
couple of squadrons he could disperse the ragged mob." As 
he lay dying in the guard-house, in the midst of the peasants 
he had scorned and- persecuted, he asked who had been their 
leader. "No one," they said; " we fought for God, for the 
emperor, and for our country." " That is strange," said he; 
" f or I saw a leader repeatedly pass me on a white horse." 
This saying produced a conviction in the minds of the Tyroleso 
that St. James, the patron of the city of Innspruck, had fought 
among them. 

By 11 o clock, Innspruck was in the hands of the patriots. 
The Bavarian cavalry, at the beginning of the day, had done 
much execution among them ; but the Tyrolese, adopting the 
only feasible plan of fighting with horsemen, had dispersed 
whenever they charged, keeping up at the same time an irre 
gular but slaughtering fire, which mowed down the soldiers, 
unable to reach their adversaries. When the infantry surren- 



Hofer ana \ the Tyrolese TVar of Independence. 1 

dercd, a panic struck them, and they fled in all directions, 
heedless-of their officers. The Tyrolese, however, stopped their 
flight ; and rushing on them with pitchforks, forced them to 
dismount, and seized the horses for their own service. A small 
party at first escaped, and fled from the city ; hut Spcckbacher 
pursued and made them prisoners. lie captured also a picket 
which had been stationed on one of the bridges, and had taken 
refuge in a convent. Seizing an immense fir-tree, fifty of the 
peasants swung it in their arms as a battering-ram, with which 
they burst open the convent-gates, and carried off the discom 
fited soldiers. 

Thus ended the second day of the war. It was closed amidst 
rejoicings characteristic of the loyally of the Tyrolese pea 
santry. Lmspruck resounded with shouts and acclamations. 
The imperial eagle was taken down from the torn)) of Maxi 
milian, decorated with ribbons, and carried in procession 
throng] i the streets ; it was then fixed in a house, and crowds 
flocked in to look at it, and kiss it. On a triumphal arch, 
hastily raised, were placed the portraits of the Emperor and the 
Archduke John, with lighted candles all around ; while every 
passer-by knelt in respect, and cri ed "Long live the Emperor !" 

Wearied at length with the watching of the previous night, 
tke conflict of the morning, and the rejoicings of the day, the 
victors fell asleep, many in the city, many in the neighbouring 
orchards, and sought a brief repose. It was indeed t-> ic brief; 
for at 3 o clock on the following nuriiing (the 13th) the alarm- 
bells again clanged forth from the city-towers and the neigh 
bouring villages. The French were upon them in strength, 
in company with fresh Bavarian troops. The -light was scarcely 
over, when they had forced their way through the pass ^\hcre 
Hofer was stationed, though with severe lasses from the 
peasants rifles. A lieutenant, witli an advanced guard, ap 
proached the city-gates, und had scarcely passed the trium 
phal arch, where the pictures of the emperor and archduke 
were fixed, when a ball struck him dead from his horse. The 
gates were instantly barricaded with every available instru 
ment. Casks and waggons blocked up the road- way ; the 
house- doors were closed, and every preparation made for a, 




52 Hofcr and the Tyrolese War of Independence. 

bloody street -fight. In an incredibly short time the conflict 
was ended in the city. Two hundred of the assailants lay 
dead, and the remainder retreated to the main army, which 
lay on a rising ground in the neighbourhood. The Tyrone 
offered the commander terms of capitulation, which were in 
stantly rejected, and the attack began. The impetuosity and 
fire of the peasantry overwhelmed both French and Bavarians . 
The slaughter was immense ; and by half-past eight o clock in 
the forenoon, terms of surrender were actually signed, and the 
whole body capitulated. The victors returned into Innspruck 
in triumph, the band of the captives leading the way, and 
compelled to play in honour of their conquerors. The pri 
soners amounted to the immense number of 8000 inf antrj , 
1000 cavalry, with two generals, ten staff- officers, and above 
100 officers of lower grades. 

The greatness of the Tyrolcse showed itself most conspicu 
ously in this moment of triumph. Irritated as they had been 
by usurpation, insult, cruelty, and tyranny, they stayed thei; 
hands from every species of retaliation, treating their prisoner, 
with the utmost humanity. One man alone suffered any thinj; 
from them, and that rather as a joke than as serious inflic 
tion : a tax-gatherer, who had boasted that he would grind 
down the people till they would gladly eat hay to suppor , 
their wretched lives, was forced to swallow a quantity of hay 
for his dinner. Their heroic nobleness met the usual returr 
with which the mercy of Christians is repaid by the savage, 
unscrupulous, and ungrateful world. A report was industri 
ously spread that the Tyrolese had murdered the prisoners ir 
cold blood ; and Napoleon, with his usual lying effrontery, was 
guilty of the infamy of issuing a proclamation of outlawry 
against Chastelan, who soon joined the Tyrolese as their mili 
tary leader, condemning him, if taken prisoner, to be shot 
within four- and- twenty hours. A year afterwards, when 
Berthier, one of Napoleon s marshals, was at Vienna, as envoy 
to the court of Austria, he met Chastelan, and had the hardi 
hood to turn the whole of this piece of villany into a jest. 

The peasantry were now masters in their own country, and 
the Bavarian authority was for the time destroyed. A few 




and the, Tyrulese War of Indepe 

skirmishes and struggles took place, but with no 
suit upon the actual condition of either party. By t 
ning of: May, however, Napoleon was in a position to attack 
the Tyrolese with forces against which resistance must be in 
the end hopeless. He sent a considerable body of troops, 
under Lefebvre, a brutal German of the merciless old military 
school, who made the people feel in full force the frightful 
horrors of war. Every leader who fell into his hands he shot 
like a traitor, and his troops committed every species of out 
rage upon the unresisting people of the villages. At the pass 
of Staub, on Ascension-day, many of the Tyrolese had left 
their post for the purpose of hearing Mass in the church, and 
those who remained were surprised by Lefebvre s soldiers, and, 
after a noble struggle, overpowered, and ferociously butchered 
on the spot. At the town of Schwartz, the most horrible 
cruelties were perpetrated. The Bavarians, in superior numbers, 
and after a prolonged conflict with the Tyrolese under Speck- 
bacher, finally possessed themselves of the town, burnt it to 
the ground, and murdered every one of the inhabitants, hang 
ing hundreds of them to the trees, and nailing their hands to 
their heads. At the village of Vomp, the Bavarians set fire 
to the houses to the sound of drums and hautboys, and shot 
the inhabitants as they attempted to escape from the flames. 

Yet not once did these nobio mountaineers retaliate. Their 
honest, hearty souls knew no law but that of the Gospel, and 
their only mode of venting their feelings lay in a rustic jest. 
The Bavarians then, as now, were notorious for their fondness 
for beer and the coarse lumpiness of their persons, and the 
Tyrolese accordingly nicknamed them " Bavarian hogs ; " and 
when they came within hearing, were in the habit of saluting 
them with the usual country noises with which pigs were driven 
along, crying to them " Tschu, tsehu, tschu! Natsch, 
natsch!" On one occasion, indeed, some one proposed to 
requite the Bavarian atrocities by sending back the prisoners 
maimed in one ear, so that they might be recognised if found 
again fighting against the Tyrolese ; but Hofer would not hear 
of the cruelty for a moment. 

Disasters now followed close upon one another : the Aus- 



54 Hofer and the Tyrolcsc War of Independence. 

trian officers began to despair, or yielded to cowardice ; and 
Hofer s energies were taxed to the utmost to prevent an entire 
disorganisation of their forces and the ruin of the revolt. 
Napoleon s defeat at Aspem, on the 21st and 22d of May, 
gave new hopes to the Tyrolese patriots. Two days before 
that date, Innspruck had fallen into the hands of the French 
and Bavarians ; but now the sudden rccal of Lefebvrc to Ger 
many inspirited the undaunted peasantry, and they gathered 
together with extraordinary rapidity and resolution. Hofer 
was ably seconded by a courageous, though somewhat headlong 
German, Eisenstecken, who had been appointed as his ad 
jutant by the Austrian commander- in- chief. SpeckbacLer, a 
giant in strength, with the eye of a mountain-eagle, and un 
surpassed in readiness and daring, was also at his side. Above 
all, the "fighting Capuchin," Father Joachim Haspinger, 
with a brother- friar, Peter Thalgutcr, now appeared on the 
scene, exercising an astonishing influence upon the minds of a 
race like the Tyrolese, who valued above all things the tw r o 
qualities of pure devotion and personal courage. The Ca 
puchins entered into the thickest of the fight, and struck 
down their adversaries with blows from heavy wooden crosses ; 
and being young and athletic men, they did great execution. 
Hofer addressed the following characteristic proclamation to 
his fellow-countrymen : 

" Dear Brothers of the Upper Innthal ! For God, tlio 
Emperor, and our dear native country ! 

" To-niorrow, early in the morning, is fixed for the attack. 
With the help of our holy Mother, we will seize and destroy 
the Bavarians ; and we confide ourselves to the beloved Jesus. 
Come to our assistance ; but if you fancy yourselves wiser 
than Divine Providence, we will do without you. 

HOFER." 



. On the 29th of May a struggle took place which once more 
made the Tyrolese masters in their native country. Spcck- 
bacher, with six hundred men, attacked the Bavarians on the 
bridge of Hall, drove them back, and destroyed the bridge. 



Hofer and the Tyrolese War of Independence. 55 

The Tyrolese were in possession of the farm of Rainerhof ; 
and thrice the Bavarians renewed the attack upon it, and 
were thrice repulsed. During this fight at the farm another 
of those incidents took place which showed the intensity of 
the feeling which animated the patriotic peasantry. A young 
woman who lived in the house brought out a small cask of 
wine to refresh the Tyrolese, and walked up with it on her 
head to the scene of battle, heedless of the fire of the Bava 
rians. A ball struck the cask, and she was tWccd to let it 
go; but instantly recovering herself:, she clapped her thumb 
on the hole made by the bullet, and called to her fellow- 
countrymen to conic instantly and drink the whip. 
< The battle lasted through the day ; the Capuchin especially 
distinguishing himself, and showing great military talent. 
At one moment lie was on the point of being run through the 
body by a Bavarian soldier, when a Tyrolese rifleman saved 
him by shooting the Bavarian dead en the spot. At night 
a kind of truce was agreed to, of: which the Bavarians took 
advantage to retire during the night, wrapping their cannon 
wheels and horses hoofs in hay, to avoid all rioise, and enjoin 
ing silence among the troops under pain of death. At Hall 
Speckbacher attempted, but in vain, to stop their retreat ; his 
own son, a child of ten years old, actually picking up the 
enemies balls as they fell around him, a.id putting them in 
his hat, till his father had him carried off by force and placed 
in a spot of safety. A similar feat Ot n hardihood was displaced 
shortly afterwards by Speckbacher himself. In dUgui.se ho 
entered the fortress of Cuffstcin, .still in the possession of the 
Bavarians ; paid a visit undetected t to the governor, extin 
guished a lighted grenade with his hat, spoilt the working of 
the fire-engines, and cut the cables of some vessels that were 
moored beneath the fortress-walls. 

The triumph of the Tyrolese was, however, short. The 
battle of Wagram once more laid Austria prostrate at Na 
poleon s feet ; and the conqueror compelled the emperor to 
withdraw all his troops from the Tyrol. The peasantry now 
began to feel how vast was the difference between their own 
heroic devotion to the house of Austrian and the mercenary 



5G Hofer and the Tyrolzse JVar of Independence. 

services of German commanders. The moment that Napoleon 
turned his arms in large force against the Tyrol, the Austrian 
leaders, Buol and Hormayr, hurried their retreat from the 
devoted land, issuing a proclamation as they fled recommend 
ing the Tyrolese to the care of Lefebvrc, the brutal general 
whom Napoleon had placed at the head of the invading forces. 
These forces amounted to the large number of between thin;y 
and forty thousand, and were composed of French, Bavarian;?, 
and Saxons. 

At such a juncture it was impossible but that the courage 
of the peasantry should falter. Hofer himself never quailed. 
When Hormayr, the selfish German, who all along had be 
grudged to the native leaders their natural influence over 
their countrymen, now hastened away, Hofer said to him, 
"Well, I will undertake the government; and as long ss 
it is the will of God, I name myself Andrew Hofer, host cf 
the Sand at Passeyr, Count of the Tyrol." Ilormayr, who was 
of the infidel school of modern Germany, and ridiculed alike 
the faith and the loyalty of the Tyrolese, laughed at language 
so little known in courts and camps, and went his timorous 
way. Returning then to his own house, Hofer met Speck - 
bacher, himself infected with a general dismay, flying frori 
the country in a carriage with some Austrian officers. A* 
he passed him, he cried, " Wilt thou also desert thy country ?" 
and sought a brief hiding-place in a cave among the cliff;} 
overhanging his own valleys. There he poured out his soul in 
prayer ; and issuing forth, betook himself to the monastery 
of the brave Capuchin Haspinger. Haspinger yielded to his 
ardent entreaties, and a conference of a few patriots was sum 
moned to concert measures for attacking the advancing French. 
Suddenly they were joined by Speckbacher, whose heart had 
been smitten by the passing words of Hofer , as he sat by the 
side of his Austrian companions, and who had left them at 
the first resting-place, and was now returned to fight once 
more for the good cause. 

The struggle soon began, and again the heroism and 
military genius of the peasants and their humble leaders 
triumphed over invading power; aiid but for the personal ui- 



Koftr and the Tyrolese War of Independence. 57 

umphs of Napoleon elsewhere, would hare been permanently 
victorious. The history of this lust phase in the Tyrolese war 
is one of the most melancholy of the many mournful episodes 
which every whore attended the terrible career of Napoleon. 
In the whole course of the French revolutionary wars, and 
"the subsequent conflicts in which Napoleon Bonaparte shook 
Europe to. its foundations, two spots stand out pre-eminent 
for their loyalty, their piety, their unexpected skill, and the 
extraordinary success which crowned their anus until subdued 
by powers utterly overwhelming. And nowhere was the reck 
less wickedness of the conquerors more signally displayed 
than in their treatment of the noble leaders who long led their 
fellow- countrymen to victory. These spots were La Vendee 
and the Tyrol ; both of them places where Catholicism still 
ruled in the hearts of a united and simple people, and pro 
duced fruits of innocence in peace, as conspicuous as were 
the fruits of heroism and mercy which it produced in time 
of war. 

At first the advafJbing French were unopposed. Lefebvre 
entered Innspruck, and with his usual brutality plundered 
and burnt the villages in his course. The agreement which 
had been made between the Austrian Emperor and the French 
had stipulated for an amnesty to all engaged in the former 
war; but in place of an amnesty, Lefebvre published a list 
of proscribed names, of v hich of course Ilofcr s was the chief. 
It included also such of the noble and upper classes as had 
fought with the peasantry. These savage acts set the whole 
country in flames. The whole of the Tyrol, says the historian 
Menezl, flew to arms. Thfe young men placed in their hata 
the bunch of rosemary gathered by the girls of their heart, the 
more aged a peacock s plume, the symbol of the house of 
Hapsburg ; all carried the rifle, so murderous in their hands. 
They made cannons of larch- wood, bound with iron rings, 
which did good service*; they raised abaitis, blew up rocks, 
piled immense masses of stone on the extreme edges of the 
precipitous rocks commanding the narrow vales, in order to 
hurl them on the advancing foe ; and so directed the timber- 
slide in the forest- covered mountains, or those formed of logs, 

S 



58 Hofer and the, Tyrolese War of Independent*. 

by means of which the timber was run into the valleys, th;ij; 
they might command the most important passes and bridges, 
and so enable the people to shoot immense trees on the 
advancing troops with tremendous velocity. 

Lefebvre divided his army into four divisions, with which 
he attacked the heart of the Tyrol simultaneously from iS 
many different points. On the 4th of August a desperate battle 
took place between one of these corps d arnii-e, consisting 
chiefly of Saxons, and the Tyrolese, who were under th<* 
command of the Capuchin, on the heights above the town cf 
Oberau. The conflict was frightful and bloody. The Tyrolcso 
adopted their usual tactics, and harassed the Saxons wit i 
incessant firing, and that never-ending repetition of assault 
which was so paralysing to regular soldiery of the old German 
school. The Saxons had got possession of the town of Obe 
rau, and when the fortune of the day turned in the patriots 
favour, they stormed the town, and took prisoners the whole 
of the Saxons, who had riot succeeded in cutting their way 
through the Tyrolese and joining the majn division. Nearly 
a thousand Saxons were left dead on the ground. An im 
mense number were captured ; seven hundred of whom con 
trived to escape from their guards, and were recaptured by the 
armed women and girls. The courage of the women was indeed 
one of the most striking proofs, at once of the indomitable 
spirit of the people and of the universality of the horror of 
Bavarian rule. And these martial feats were not confined to 
the female peasantry alone. The Baroness of Sternbach, 
mounted on horseback and armed with pistols, accompanied 
the patriots, and shared in the command. In the end, she 
was seized in her own castle, imprisoned in a house of cor 
rection at Munich, and then carried to Strasbourg, deprived of 
her estates, insulted, and threatened with death. Her courage 
never failed her. 

A similar fate to that which the Saxons encountered befel 
the invading division which marched up the valley of the Inn. 
In the darkness of the night of the 8th of August, after being 
repulsed by the Tyrolese, this body of troops, under Bur- 
scheidt, retreated as silently as possible over the bridge of 



2 loft r and the Tyrolese War of Independence. 59 

Poutlaz. The infantry passed unheard, with stealthy steps ; 
but when the cavalry followed, the noise of the horses feet 
betrayed them to the watchful mountaineers, who were posted 
on the heights above. Instantly the crash caine. Rocks and 
trees were rolled headlong upon the bridge, overwhelming men 
and horses together : the darkness adding fresh terrors to the 
attack, and the fallen bodies blocking up the road to those 
who were behind. The commander, with a few of his troops, 
escaped to Innspruck ; the rest were all either killed or cap 
tured. 

The third division met a similar reception in the Pustcrthal. 
Twelve hundred of the invaders lay dead on the field, and their 
companions retreated in hopelessness. As for the fourth 
division, it made no attempt to penetrate into the heart of the 
country. 

Other conflicts took place between the mountaineers and the 
Germans under their principal leaders. Thfc troops comman 
ded by Lefebvre were almost cut to pieces by the peasantry 
headed by the Capuchin and Speckbacher. The Tyrolese per 
formed prodigies of strength and valour. They dragged the 
cavalry from their horses, and killed them with their staves ; 
Lefebvre himself scarcely escaped their hands, although he 
had taken the precaution to dress like a common soldier, to 
avoid being made the especial mark of the riilemen. One 
peasant is reported to have actually carried a three-pounder, 
which he had captured, on his shoulders across the mountains. 
An old man, above eighty years of age, grappling in deadly 
struggle with a Saxon soldier, shouted, " In the name of 
God ! " and threw himself with his foe headlong down the 
precipice on which he had been posted. As elsewhere, the 
peasantry were not without the help of tho nobles ; and Count 
Mohr was especially conspicuous among the people of Vinstch- 
gau. In the midst of all this 

Christian spirit of the Tyrolese never failed to soften the 
horrors of warfare ; and they carried their wounded enemies 
carefully to the neighbouring villages, to be tended and healed. 

The 13th of August drove the Bavarians out of the country 
once more. The Capuchin eaid Mass for the Tyrolese in the 



60 Hofer and the Tyrolese War of Independent*. 

open air, and then led them on to the assault at Isel. Four 
hundred Bavarians speedly lay dead in neaps, crushed beneath 
the clubs and stalwart arms of the impetuous mountaineers. 
At night the enemy fled, and the whole valley of the Inn 
blazed with the watch-fires of the victors ; while Lefebvre kept 
his own fires burning to deceive the Tyrolese into a belief that 
he was still encamped close by. 

On the 15th, the Festival of the Assumption, Hofer made 
a kind of triumphal entry into the capital of his native country, 
now a third time delivered by him from its invaders. It wa*. 
now that the purity of his patriotism and his religious honesty 
..appeared in their brightest light. Forced by the prostration 
of the Austrians to assume the position of a military dictator, 
he used his power solely with a view to the preservation of the 
constitution of his country, arid to the enforcement of the 
laws of religion and of public order. The disturbances which 
in the agitation ojj the times had begun in Innspruck, ceased 
the moment his authority was felt in exercise. His first work 
was to order a general thanksgiving to Almighty God for the 
success of the Tyrolese ; and the festival was celebrated 
throughout the country with the deepest devotion and utmost 
solemnity. He instituted a search for stolen goods includ 
ing those taken from the Bavarians themselves in every house 
in Innspruck ; and imposed a heavy fine on every one who had 
secreted property not his own, however inconsiderable in value. 

The title he assumed was that of Imperial Commandant 
of the Tyrol ; and the proclamations and edicts which he issued 
were obeyed with the most scrupulous readiness by the people. 
He did not set himself, says the historian before quoted, 
above his equals, and followed his former simple mode of 
life. The Emperor of Austria sent him a golden chain and 
three thousand ducats, the first money received by the Tyrol 
from Austria ; but Hofer s pride was not raised by this mark 
of favour, and the ndivetk of his reply to those who brought 
the gifts was a subject of ridicule to those who valued court- 
ceremoniousness above hearty simplicity. " Sirs, "said he, 
" I thank you. I have no news for you to-day. I have, it is 
true, three couriers on the road, and the Schwantz ought long 



Jfoff.r and the Tyrolese War of Independence. 61 

to have been here ; I expect the rascal every hour." He per 
mitted no pillage, and no disorderly conduct ; and guarded 
public morals with such strictness, as to publish an order 
against the indelicate mode of female dressing which had been 
imported by the French, of which, he said, " many of his good 
fellow-soldiers and defenders of their country have complained." 
The conclusion of this proclamation is too characteristic of the 
homely honesty of the man to be omitted. - 4 It is hoped," it 
wound up, " that these women will, by better behaviour, pre 
serve themselves from the punishment of God ; and in case of 
the contrary, must solely blame themselves should they find 
themselves disagreeable covered with dirt. Andrew llofer, 
chief in command in the Tyrol. 3 It may safely be said that 
this document stands unique among the proclamations of vic 
torious soldiers. 

Another of his proclamations may be given at full length, 
as showing what sort of man "he was ; and as standing in strik 
ing contrast with the "general orders" and " despatches" which 
we are accustomed to see from the pens of the generals and 
statesmen who are strangers to the principles which animated 
the noble-hearted Tyrolese. Some degree of discontent and 
ill-feeling had arisen in the southern part of the Tyrol, during 
the absence of the commandant of that part of the country, 
and the people had treated the troops with incivility and 
harshness. This unpatriotic conduct called forth the singular 
phenomenon of an order from the commandcr-in-chief ; not 
as is the case in ordinary warfare, enjoining the soldiery to 
spare the people, but bidding the people treat the soldiery 
with consideration. Hastening to Botzen, Hoi er quieted the 
irritation by the following : 

" BEST-BELOVED SOUTH TYROLEANS, 

"It is with great displeasure that I have learnt your 
ill-treatment of my troops. I publish now, my dear brave 
countrymen and brothers in arms, this proclamation, that the 
well- thinking may know how to behave to those who are con 
ducting themselves so ill. From my heart, which beats for 
you allj I detest robbery and depredations of every sort; I 



62 Hoftr and the Tyrolese War of Independence. 

hate contributions and extortions ; and be assured that I will 
not pardon these mean actions. 

44 It is the duty of every brave defender of his country 
to watch over the honour, and cultivate the affection of his 
neighbour, that he may not incur the displeasure of the Al 
mighty, who defends us so miraculously. Dear brothers iii 
arms, recollect yourselves. Against whom do we fight V 
Against friends or against foes ? Against our enemies we 
have fought and conquered, and will still fight against them ; 
but not against our brothers, who have been already so much 
oppressed. Consider that we ought to protect and assist our 
fellow-creatures, who are unable to carry arms. What would 
the world, the witness of our conduct, what would our pos 
terity say, were we not to fulfil these duties ? The glory of 
the Tyrolese would be lost for ever. 

"Dear countrymen, the whole world is astonished at our 
deeds. The name of the Tyrolese is already immortalised ; 
and it is only necessary that we should fulfil our duty towards 
God and our neighbour, to complete a work so gloriously 
begun. 

44 Brave countrymen and brothers in arms, supplicate the 
Creator of all things, who is alike able to defend or destroy 
kingdoms at His pleasure,. and He will guide you. Who at 
this moment would wish to disturb our tranquillity ? I sum 
mon all the clergy, and those who are unable to bear arms, 
to assisc and protect my troops , and such as arc not able to 
render them any service, to implore God on their knees to 
bless our endeavours. 

44 I further acquaint all public bodies, towns, villages, 
and my troops in general, that as so many irregularities have 
happened in consequence of the conduct of commandants of 
their own choosing, during the absence of Joseph Morandell, 
whom I had appointed commandant of the Southern Tyrol, 
no proclamations, orders, or arrangements are to be attended 
to, unless issued and signed by him. 

" ANDREW HOFER, 

(\>: :l .. n-Jf r-iK-Ch iff of tfic Tyrol. 
B<>t:r,i. 4. ^ StJ f. Ifipy/ 



Hofer and the Tyrolese War of Independence. 63 

Such was the internal government of the Tyrol, when all 
was lost through the faithlessness of that court which Hofer 
and his devoted followers had served so well. History affords 
few more stricking illustrations of the words of king David, 
" Put not your trust in princes," than the desertion of these 
heroic peasantry by the " noble " house of Hapsburg, when 
Napoleon s renewed victories brought about the treaty of Vi 
enna, concluded on the 10th of October. In this compact 
the Tyrol was not even mentioned. The self-sacrificing 
people were handed over to the tender mercies of bloody and 
despotic France and revengeful Bavaria, without a word of sti 
pulation in their favour. A heartless manifesto was despatched 
to them by the Archduke John, the very man who had been 
foremost in inciting them to support him and his house, when 
Austria rose against Napoleon, in which he simply bade them 
disperse, and offer no longer a useless resistance. He added 
not a hint of security against the savage vindictiveness of their 
enemies, not a word of apology for Austria in having thrown 
overboard her solemn pledges never to forsake the Tyrolese. 

Vast bodies of French and Germans now entered the Tyrol ; 
but the people, as a nation, could rise no more against them, 
for their heart was broken. In some parts they fought with 
the energy of desperation against the invaders, accounting no 
thing so miserable as submission to such rulers, in whose eyes 
nothing was held sacred. The inhabitants of the Passcyr and 
Algund flocked to HoCer, and compelled him to lead them to 
the last dying struggle. For a brief space the patriots seemed 
about to conquer. At Mcran, they cast from the heights such, 
numbers of the invading soldiery, that it was said that the 
French fell like autumns-leaves into the town. A division of 
cavalry which attempted to surround them was actually anni 
hilated. Rusca, who led bands of Italian brigands in the in 
terest of the French, lost 500 dead and 1700 prisoners. 

They still retained, however, their love of humour and 
their Christian mercifulness. A French major who had for 
merly fired a village in cold blood fell into their hands ; but at 
the interference of the Capuchin his life was spared. At one 
place, while the French artillery was bombarding their position, 



04 Jfofer and the Tyrolese War of Independence.. 

the peasants set up a huge barn-door as a mark for the gun 
ners to aim at, and at every shot they thrust up a ludicrous 
stuffed figure by way of joke. All, however, was vain ; re 
sistance gradually died aVay, and the French hanged and shot 
the most distinguished of the patriot leaders to their hearts 
content. These courageous men died as they had lived, 
quailing neither on the field of battle nor at the place of ju 
dicial murder. 

Hofer, with his wife and child, took refuge among the 
heights of the Tyrolese Alps. He was implored by his coun 
trymen to fly ; but he would never leave the soil where he hs.d 
been born, and of whose people he had deserved so well. A 
traitorous priest, one Donay, in the pay of France, discovered 
and betrayed his hiding-place ; and on the night of the 27th 
of January a body of three, thousand six hundred French and 
Italian troops went to seize him in his mountain refuge. The 
calm dignity with which Hofer surrendered himself could net 
save him from the brutal insults of the Italians. They tora 
his beard, pinioned him, and dragged him half-naked anl 
barefoot over the ice and snow down the cliffs into the valley. 
He was instantly put into a carriage and despatched to Mantua. 
His death was predetermined by Napoleon ; and orders wero 
Bent from Milan to shoot him within four- and- twenty hours 
Four hours before his death he wrote the following letter tc 
his brother-in-law : 



i: My beloved wife is to have Mass said for my soul at St. 
Marie s. She is to have prayers offered in both parishes, and 
is to let the under-landlord give my friends soup, meat, and 
half-a-bottle of wine each. The money I had with me I have 
distributed to the poor ; as for the rest, settle my accounts 
with the people as justly as you can. All in this world, fare 
well, till we meet in he wen to praise God eternally. Death 
appears to me so easy, that my eyes have not once been wet 
on account of it. 



o During the pillage of the monastery of Seoben by the French; a nun thrtw 
herself: down a precipice to escape from their hand*. 



Hofcr and the Tyrolese IVar of Independence. 65 

44 Written at 5 o clock in the morning; and at 9 o clock I 
set off, with the aid of all the saints, on my journey to God." 

On his way to the place of execution he passed the bar 
racks where other Tyrolese prisoners were confined. They 
crowded round him, fell on their knees, and begged his bless 
ing. . He blessed them, and entreated their pardon for any 
wrong he might have done them ; and declared his conviction 
that in the end the Tyrol would return to the rule of the Em 
peror Francis. To Manifest!, the priest who attended him 
to the last, and to whom he made his confession, he gave his 
money to be distributed among his countrymen, his snuff 
box, and his rosaries. Twelve soldiers were drawn up to 
execute the bloody decree. The drummer in attendance 
presented a handkerchief to HofeY to bind his eyes, and he 
was bid to kneel down in the usual way. He declined the 
handkerchief, and exclaimed with a strong voice, " I have 
been used to stand upright before my God, and I will stand 
to deliver up to Him the soul He gave." He then gave the 
signal to fire ; but, whether from the agitation of the soldiers 
or not, they were obliged to fire thrice before he lay dead. 
The first volley brought him on his knees, the second stretched 
him on the ground, a third shot released his soul. It was the 
29th of February, 1810, when this horrible murder was per 
petrated. 

Afterwards, when the Austrian dominion was re-established 
in the Tyrol and the north of Italy, the Tyrolese brought their 
hero s body back to his native mountains. A marble monu 
ment to his memory stands in a church at Innspruck, and his 
family were ennobled. 

Of his two most distinguished companions, Haspinger the 
Capuchin soon escaped to Vienna ; where also, after extraor 
dinary sufferings and dangers, Speckbacher arrived to taste 
the proverbial ingratitude of princes. The Bavarians hunted 
him among the mountains in troops, swearing to cut his skin 
into boot-straps. At Dux his flight was stopped by snow, 
and the Bavarians attacked a house where he took refuge. 
He leapt through the roof and got away, though hurt in so 



66 Hofer and the Tyrolese War of Independence. 

doing. For twenty-seven days lie wandered starving and 
frozen, amongst the forests, now buried in snow. For four 
days together not a morsel passed his lips. At length he came 
by chance upon a mountain-hut where his wife and children 
had hidden themselves. The Bavarians tracked him, and ad 
vanced to the capture ; he seized a sledge lying by, placed it 
upon his shoulders, and walked out to meet them as if he 
were a domestic employed in his ordinary labour, and passed 
undetected. Then he hid himself in a cave on the Gemshakon, 
from which the thawing snows of springs, which slide down in 
masses to the valleys, carried him down one day fora mile and 
a half ; he disengaged himself at last from the snow, but one 
of his legs was dislocated, and he could not regain his ca^e. 
In dreadful agony he crept to a neighbouring hut, where he 
found two men, who took him to his own home at Him, 
where his wife and cMldren were returned. To his dismay 
he found the Bavarians in possession, and his only chance of 
escape lay in being buried in a hole beneath the bed of the 
cows, where his servant Zoppel daily brought him food. iSo 
imminent was the peril of discovery, that even his wife was 
left uninformed of his presence. For seven weeks he lay 1 id 
in this living tomb, till he was sufficiently recruited to cross 
the mountains, now free from snow. He reached Vienn i ; 
but the royal house he had so faithfully served had no smiles 
for him in his adversity. He bought a little property with 
the remnant of his possessions ; but he was unable to pay tie 
whole of the purchase-money, and he lost all he had. At 
length he would have been reduced to beggary, had not le 
actually entered as steward into the service of Hofer s son, 
\vho had been better treated by the emperor, and had received 
an estate at his hands. 

When Napoleon finally fell, the Tyrol passed again to 
Austria, and now remains under its dominion. It is stll 
one of the brightest spots of Christendom; the home of dili 
gence, labour, simplicity, piety, and happiness. The seeds of 
decay and the elements of revolution are scattered far and wide 
in almost every other country in Europe ; but if there is one 
people who gives promise of a long-lasting vigorous vitality, 



Hofer and the Tyrolese War of Independence. 67 

to be destroyed only by the overwhelming pressure of exter 
nal force, it is the race which still cherishes the memory o f 
Andrew Hofer. Rambler. 



THE DEATH OF HOFER. 

( From the German of Julius Mosen. By James Clarence Mangan. ) 



At Mantua long had lain irt chains 
The gallant Hofer bound; 

But now his day of doom was come 
At morn the deep roll of the drum 
Resounded o er the soldiered plains. 

Heaven ! with what a deed of dole 
The hundred thousand wrongs were crowned 
Of trodden down Tyrol ! 

With iron-fettered arms and hands 
The hero moved along 

His heart was calm, his eye was clear 
Death was for traitor slaves to fear! 
He oft amid his mountain bands, 

Where Inn s dark wintry waters roll, 
Had faced it with his battle-song, 
The Sandwirth of Tyrol. 

Anon he passed the fortress-wall, 
And heard the wail that broke 

From many a brother thrall within. 
"Farewell!" he cried "Soon may you win 
Your liberty ! God shield you all ! 

Lament not me ! I see my goal. 
Lament the land that wears the yoke, 
Your land and mine, T^rol! " 

So through the files of musqaeteers 
Undauntedly he passed. 

And stood within the hollow square. 
Well might he glance around him there, 
And proudly think on by gone years! 

Amid such serfs his bannerol, 
Thank God! had never braved tbe blast 
On thy green hills, Tyrol! 

They bade him kneel ; but he with all 
A patriot s truth replied 

"I kneel alone to God on high 
As thus I stand so dare I die, 
As oft I fought so let me fall ! 

" Farewell ! "his breast a moment swoll 
With agony he strove to hide 
" My Kaiser and Tyrol ! " 

No more emotion he betrayed. 
Again he bade farewell 

To Francis and the faithful men 
Who girt his throne. His hands were then 
Unbound for prayer, and thus he prayed. 

" God of the Free, receive my soul ! 
And you, slaves, "Fire!" So bravely fell 
Thy foremost man, Tyrol ! 



68 Maitland on tke Reformation. 

MAITLAND ON TIIE REFORMATION. 

( From the Rambler. ) 

Essays on Subjects connected ivit/i the Reformation m 
England. By the Rev. S. R. Maitland, D.D., F.R.S. 
F.S.A. London, Rivingtons. 

" CLEAR your mind of cant, sir !" said the great philosopher 
of common sense one day to Inisjidus Jlchates, or to one 01: 
that listening crowd to whom the sage was wont to dispense; 
wisdom in sentences as blunt as pithy. We do not, indeed, 
remember whether this admirable advice was given by Johnsor 
in reply to one of the ordinary Boswellian platitudes respecting 
liberty of conscience and religious persecution ; but whether it 
was or not, Dr. Maitland might very appropriately have prefixed 
it as a motto to the very remarkable volume whose title the 
reader has just perused. The late librarian of Lambeth is in 
truth one of the most pertinacious and most successful of the 
foes to theological cant whom our age has had the good 
fortune to produce. "Pamphlet Maitland," as he is sometimes 
termed, has written and published above a score of books, 
letters, and pamphlets, directed solely to the smashing of some 
of the vulgar fallacies which supply the Protestant world with 
that ample store of parrot-phrases with which it seeks to pacify 
the cravings of our time for accurate historical knowledge, and 
for some real, honest, consistent system of religious belief. 
And now he has added to our libraries a goodly volume, shew 
ing up the deceits and trickeries of the standard authorities 
for Protestant historical belief, and winding up with an elabo 
rate defence of the good nature, Christian sincerity, and piety 
of " bloody " Bishop Bonner ! 

Dr. Maitland s Dark *flges is known to every well-informed 
student, and therefore we shall now say nothing of the good 
service he did to the cause of the Catholic religion by the 
publication of that curious and interesting book. Notwithstand 
ing the eminently unpopular character of its sentiments, the 



Maitland on the Reformation. 69 

Dark Jlges has reached a second edition, and it has left no 
educated person the slightest pretence for repeating the 
commonplace cant respecting those times which have been truly 
said to be dark, inasmuch as people in general knew nothing 
whatsoever concerning them. The present volume of Essays 
on the Reformation will, we fear, hardly find an equal number 
of readers, partly because the subjects on which it treats are 
too uniform in character, partly because the book has necessarily 
a very large number of quotations, and partly because it 
strikes mercilessly on prejudices still dearer to the minds of 
Englishmen than even the long- cherished belief in the 
wickedness, ignorance, and superstition of the micTdle ages. 
Persons who are quite ready to be convinced that the mediaeval 
period abounded in men of genius, piety, and learning, and 
who will revel in Dr. Maitland s stories of manuscripts 5 
libraries, and studious monks, are not yet quite prepared to be 
told that the " martyrs" under Queen Mary very often richly 
deserved the fate they got, and that Bonner, Bishop of London, 
was a good, kind-hearted Christian, much more desirous of 
saving people s souls than of burning their bodies, and often 
times an unwilling administrator of the cruel laws of the age 
in which he lived. Such, however, is the gist of these Essays, 
though their author is as stout a Protestant as ever, and as 
zealous a believer in the Church of England as by law establi 
shed as when he first took orders within her communion. 
We shall now proceed to give our readers an account of the 
arguments by which our author establishes his views, and shall 
then offer a few remarks on the general question of persecution 
for religious opinions, as applicable both to the age of the 
English Reformation and to our own and future periods. 

It is an historical fact (tolerable or intolerable, according to 
a person s own ideas,) that nearly 300 persons, were put to 
death in England during the reign of Queen Mary, for some 
reason or other connected with their religious belief. Dr. 
Maitland puts the number at 277. Whatever the exact number, 
however, the fact is certain, that something approaching to 
300 men and women a few of the tender sex being included 
in the list were cither burned alive, or in some other way de- 



70 Maitland on the Reformation. 

prived of life, for some cause immediately consequent upon 
the propagation of Protestantism. The common English idea 
is, that all these persons were martyrs to the Gospel ; that is, 
that they were pious and devoted Christians, whose sole crime 
it was that they would not worship images, believe intransul- 
stantiation, or uphold the enormities and vices of the Roman 
Catholic priesthood. The sovereign of the realm is pictured 
by the imagination as a ravaging wolf among harmless lambs, 
accompanied and abetted in her murderous attacks by two 
other wolves Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, and Bonnei , 
Bishop of London. The ferocious Queen is supposed to have 
been a singular example of blood-thirstiness and cruelty, in i 
country of piety, moderation, and enlightenment; and the tw> 
Bishops, her instruments in bloodshedding, to have been tw) 
devilish butchers, whose thirst for blood was equal to their de 
votion to the supremacy of the Pope of Rome, and to what tho 
Anglican liturgy used to term "his detestable enormities." 

When, however, we have succeeded in "clearing our mind.s 
of cant," we find that this pictorial history of the reign o:: 
Queen Mary is as nearly as possible a simple, unadulterated 
falsehood. We find, in the first place, that so far from its 
having been a result of the faith of the Queen and the Bishops , 
that many persons were put to death for their religion, this 
notion of the lawfulness and necessity of what is termed per 
secution was upheld and acted upon by every man who called 
himself a Christian, whetheV Catholic or Protestant, Calvinisr 
or Arminian, Lutheran or Socinian. There was not perhaps 
a solitary individual in England who maintained that it was 
wrong that he. himself should persecute, however clarnourouslj 
he asserted that it was contrary to the spirit of the Gospel 
that he himself shoud be persecuted. The modern idea, now 
so generally maintained in word, though nowhere consistently 
acted upon in deed, that it is wrong to inflict any punishment 
upon a man because of his religious opinions, was no more 
known to our forefathers than it was known to them that a 
man might go from London to Bath in two hours and a half. 
Every civil government regarded itself, if not exactly a judge 
in matters of religion, yet at least as authorised to imprison, 




. COJLLEOK 

Maitland on the Reformation. 



scourge, banish, and kill any one or more of its subjects wfio 
professed a creed which found no favour in the eyes of the 
ruling power. The difference between one government and 
another was simply in the degree of the punishment inflicted, 
and between the nature of the authorities or tribunals whose 
decrees were accounted decisive as to what constituted the he 
resies to be chastised by the secular arms. Catholic govern 
ments looked to ecclesiastical judgment to decide what was or 
what was not heresy, and then took upon themselves to impri 
son, fine, torture, burn, or hang the convicted heretics according 
to their own good pleasure ; while Protestant governments set 
up courts of inquisition of their own, with powers and objects 
precisely similar to the tribunals of the Catholic Church, except 
that they united in one depositary of authority both the right 
to decide theologically and the power to imprison, fine, torture, 
burn, and hang their victims at discretion. 

To talk, therefore, of its being a peculiar feature of the 
Catholic Church, that she persecutes those who will not obey, is 
an absurdity. Every body persecuted, even to blood, 300 years 
ago ; and to this very day every body persecutes, even to dis 
qualifications, fines, and imprisonments. If persecution is 
wrong and monstrous at all, a double share of the blame is to 
be charged to Protestants, for this reason, that they do not 
even profess that they have an infallible guide to direct them, 
and do not pretend to say that none can be saved but those 
who agree in their views. The Catholic has some reason on 
his side when he calls for the temporal punishment of heretics, 
for he claims the true title of Cliristian for himself exclusively, 
and professes to be taught by the never-failing presence of the 
Spirit of God. But however this be, it is certain that there is 
no more foundation for the vulgar belief, that persecution is 
the special characteristic of the Catholic Church, than for the 
old legend of the phoenix, or for believing, like Lord Mon- 
boddo, that the human race once had tails like monkeys. 

Further than this, when we examine the real history of the 
English Reformation, it appears that it is altogether a delusion 
to suppose that piety and devotion had any thing whatever to 
do with the " martyrdoms " of a vast number of the persons 



72 Maittand on the. Reformation. 

put to death under Queen Mary. It is mere twaddle and cant 
to call them " martyrs " at all. They were no more martyrs 
than Thistlcwood was a martyr, or than the Red Republicans 
who were shot in the streets of Paris a year ago were martyrs. 
They were seditious scoundrels, who made the Gospel a cloak 
for treason the legitimate progenitors of the republican revo 
lutionists who would now set Europe in flames, and overthrow 
the "monstrous regiment" of kings, nobles, and parliaments, 
that they themselves may fill the vacant thrones and share tie 
plunder. The Scotch author of The Monstrous Regiment 
of Women , when he flung that precious medley of metaphy 
sics, Bible- texts, blasphemy, vulgarity, and nonsense at the 
head of the lawful Queen of England, was an apostle of sedi 
tion and not of Christianity; he broached theories which upS3t 
the foundations of the social system itself ; and if he had lived 
in France in these days of ours, would doubtless have taken 
his place by the side of Barbes, Raspail, and the other Red 
Republicans lately convicted by the tribunal of Bourges. 

This is Dr. Maitland s deliberate opinion of the character of 
very many of the leading Protestants, and he considers that 
they impressed the very same character upon the movement 
generally. Whatever might have been the sincerity of mar y 
individuals among the Protestants, as a body they took the 
initiative in assaulting Queen Mary and her rights as a sove 
reign, in a manner which left her no alternative but to put 
tkem down by rigour and bloodshed. A large number of tl.e 
influential writings of the time are classed by Dr. Maitlard 
under the following heads : 

"I. Those which have generally a revolutionary tendency which di i- 
cuss the subject of government in such a way as to inculcate, not on y 
the doctrine that the people have a right to resist the ruler whenever i n 
their opinion he commands what is wrong, but that they are the sour< e 
of power, and are answerable to God, not only for their delegation of it 
to fit persons as rulers, but for the use which they allow to be made of 
it by those to whom they have delegated it ; and from whom upon tl e 
misuse of that power they are bound to resume it these ideas beirg 
illustrated, enforced, and familiarised by perpetual repetitions of and 
allusions to histories respecting rulers deposed and killed by the r 
subjects. 

" II. Those which were specially directed against Queen Mary indivi 
dually, and which were of two kinds. (1.) Those which denied her rig! t 



Maitland on the Reformation. 73 

to the throne on the general ground of her sex, or on the more particular 
ground of illegitimacy. (2.) Those which were directed against her 
personal character, and which, by charging her with cruelty, oppression, 
&c., were calculated to render her odious. 

" III. Those which were directed against foreigners, and in particular 
against the Spaniards, and the Spanish match ; and which, under a 
profession of patriotism, urged that the people and the country had been, 
or would be, betrayed and sold into the hands of strangers and foreigners 
of the basest description, by whom they would be enslaved and 
oppressed without mercy, unless they rose up and expelled them. 

" IV. Those relating to the change in religion representing it both 
as a judgment in itself, and as a sin which would bring down further 
judgments and generally threatning judgments on the people of the 
country for rejecting the word of God, and embracing or tolerating 
idolatry and superstition." 

In truth, it was utterly impossible for any government to 
stand which tolerated the attacks that were made upon Mary 
by the Puritan party : more especially was her government 
provoked by that band of cowardly hypocrites who fled the 
country and are termed the Frankfort exiles, and who from 
their place of security launched fulminations against the En 
glish monarch as coarse and indecent as they were ferocious 
and profane. Never were writings put forth more utterly 
alien to the spirit of that Gospel which they professed to up 
hold. Nowhere in the annals of controversy and politics do 
we meet with more striking records of what would have been 
foolhardy madness if it had come from residents in the realm 
of England, but was mere reckless, braggart ferocity when its 
authors were safe from the arm they provoked to strike them. 
These tracts of the exiles were, however, brought over to this 
country and scattered far and wide among the people, and sti 
mulated the ignorant multitude to excesses which it became 
impossible for the Government to pass by. Calmly and peace 
ably as the first months of Mary s reign went on, when once 
the first opposition to her was put down, the united efforts of 
the exiled ministers and of the designing courtiers and men in 
power at home speedily called for the severest measures on the 
part of the Queen s administration. Politics and religion be 
came mixed up so inextricably that it was impossible to treat 
them any longer apart, or to view the unconvinced Protestant 
in any other light than that of a preacher of sedition and re 
volution. The land swarmed with publications which lashed 

10 



74 Maitland on the Reformation. 

the populace into frenzy ; and though we cannot doubt that 
their authors generally took good care of themselves, and 
allowed the blows of the secular arm to fall upon the more 
unoffending and conscientious, still it must be borne in mind 
that the laws could make no distinctions between individual? , 
and that Mary s ministers were compelled to treat the wliol-3 
Protestant party as one body of men as bitterly hostile to her 
throne as to her religion. 

Dr. Maitland thus describes the kind of publications from 
which he deduces a conclusion substantially the same as that 
we have expressed : 

"It has been already stated, that a great object of the books which were writtei 
and sent over to this country by the Protestant exiles, was to promote a revolu 
tion in the English Government by the dethronement of Queen Mary. The onlj 
difficulty in proving this is that which arises from having to make a selectioc 
amidst superabundance of evidence. It is true that much which would have in 
creased that difficulty is lost. Many of the worst productions of that period 
the worst, not only in a moral and religious point of view, but as being the most 
prejudicial, passing from hand to hand, or from mouth to mouth, amongst the 
worst people, and such as were most easily excited to the worst practices the 
profane ballad, that regaled the devotees of the ale-house ; the seditious broad- 
gide, scattered in the streets by unseen hands ; the interlude, that amused a simple 
and untaught audience with blasphemous ribaldry concerning the holiest and 
most sacred mysteries of religion these are now seldom to be met with. But 
for our purpose the loss is the less to be regretted, because they mostly lie open 
to the objection, that as there probably never was a time when their authorship 
could be certainly fixed, so it is altogether impossible at this distance of time to 
attempt any thing of the kind ; and, also, that for any thing we can prove, these 
very abominations may have been forged by the enemies of the Puritans for the 
express purpose of bringing them into trouble. I lay no stress, therefore, on 
works of this description, though it may, on some occasions, be worth while, for 
the sake of illustration, to refer to them. But I will beg the reader to bear in 
mind, that however obscure our intelligence respecting them may be, these 
things were in existence, and in active operation, while I quit them to speak, as 
Doctor (afterwards Archbishop) Parker did to the Lord Keeper Bacon, of certain 
books, " that went then about London, being printed and .spread abroad, and their 
authors ministers of yood estimation. . . At which, said Parker, exhorrui cum 
ista legcrem. Adding, " if such principles be spread into men s heads, as now 
they be framed, and referred to the judgment of the subject to discuss what it 
tyranny, and to discern whether his prince, his landlord, his master, is a tyrant 
by his own fancy and collection supposed ; what Lord of the Council shall ride 
quietly-minded in the streets among desperate beasts? what minister shall be 
ure in his bedchamber? Important questions. I do not know what the Lord 
Keeper answered. " 

Another feature in the controversial writings of the Refor 
mation period, which Dr. Maitland brings prominently forward 
as illustrative of the real spirit of the opposing parties, is the 
disgusting coarseness, indecency, and violence of many of the 
Puritan authors. Not only was the style of the Protestant 
writers such as to provoke to the utmost the forbearance of 
the Queen and her advisers, but it is so intolerably vile that 



Mai tl and on the Reformation. 75 

& 

few readers of the present day have ever had an opportunity 
of fairly comparing the writings of the Catholics with those of 
the Protestants of that period. None but those who have gone 
to the original writers, and studied their productions in un- 
mutilated editions, can form any idea of the grossness of sen 
timent and language of many of these supposed martyrs to the 
truth and purity of the Gospel. The modern reader knows the 
writings of His Protestant ancestors only through expurgated 
and judiciously selected extracts. The skilful editor draws his 
pen through all that would shock the feelings of our own more 
decent time, leaving only a little hyperbolical statement and 
apparently honest vehemence, which charity readily puts down 
to a pardonable excess of zeal in men persecuted for the GopcPs 
sake. * 

But when the controversial books of the day are perused in 
their integrity, we are startled to find that we have been cheated 
into a species of pity or respect for a set of unprincipled men, 
whose thoughts and words could only now be paralleled in the 
haunts of the lowest and most shameless of our race. It is 
impossible to put down the excesses of the Puritan writers to the 
age in which they lived, and at the same time to give them 
credit for being themselves Christian men. Their excesses are 
of a character utterly inconsistent with the first elements of 
Christian morality ; and stamp the whole religious portion of 
their writings with a mark either of delusion or of hypocrisy. 
It is miserable, indeed, to hear the nonsense which we often hear 
uttered in defence of the grossness and violence of other days. 
Doubtless outward manners, and forms of speech-, and rules of 
artificial decency, vary considerably in different stages of civil 
isation ; but we must not forget that there is a limit to these 
variations ; and that there are certain transgressions of the 
strict rules of morality, which it is preposterous to palliate on 
any ground of popular taste of the day, and which nothing on 
earth can ever justify. And just such are the extravagances and 
abominations of the English Puritan writers of Queen Mary s 
days. Their ideas and expressions are not only unpolished, 
but immoral ; not only rude, coarse, and rough, but filthy, 
impure, and bloo^hirsty. If they had been guided bv the 



76 Maitland on the Reformation. 

spirit of Christianity, they would have so far overcome the habits 
of the age as to have adopted at least a style of writing not 
flagrantly violating the fundamental laws of the Gospel. Per 
haps jio English writer ever equalled Luther himself in his 
horrible profanenesses and indecencies ; but still Luther had 
many a worthy follower in this island ; many a disciple who 
lacked rather the ability than the will to rival him in the wick 
edness of his expressions. Dr. Maitland s remarks on this 
subject are so much to the purpose, that we shall make m 
apology for quoting them at length. 

I cannot help thinking, that none but those who have paidsom^ 
attention to the works which were written by the exiled party during 
the reign of Mary, I mean the works themselves, in contradistinction 
to selections, extracts, modernisations, and generalising accounts, 
can properly estimate the effecr which they wore calculated to product 
on the measures of the English government in Church and State during 
that period. Before, however, I come to speak particularly of these 
works, as regards their design and effect, I would offer a few remarks o 
a more general nature on the style of some of the more popular Puritai 
writers. It is a matter which has certainly been misrepresented 
principally, I believe, though not entirely, by ignorance ; but it is one 
which, if we wish really to understand the history of the period, wi 
must look fairly in the face. 

" It must be considered that those parts of the works of writers ol 
this class and period which are the most contrarv to good taste and good 
manners, have been very seldom, very sparingly, and then commonly 
with some preface or apology, brought forward by their admirers j and 
further, that through those admirers almost exclusively, these writers 
are known to Protestants of the present day; and further still, that when 
any such matter as admirers would not wish to find does come into 
notice, it is frequently purified from its grossness by the omission of 
words or sentences, with or without notice to the reader, who thus forms 
a very imperfect and erroneous opinion of the author whose work he is 
reading. Of course I do not mean to find fault with such omissions, as 
things wrong in themselves, or as less than absolutely necessary in some 
cases. Occasions may arise on which it may be very right to reprint a 
work or extract a passage, of an old writer, containing words or phrases 
BO obscene or profane that common decency requires them to be expun 
ged. This, too, may probably be done without any injury to the pur 
pose for which the reprint or extract is made ; and "if it be nilly 
acknowledged, it is hardly likely to lead to any ill consequence. But 
when without notice, or with a notice that is false, and even with the 
very best intentions, that which would disgust is tacitly altered, or 
omitted, and a coarse, obscene, or scurrilous writer is weeded and 
cleared of his offences, and made to look quite innocent, it is obvious 
that, whatever information or instruction we may gain from his 
writings thus garbled, we shall get a very wrong idea of himself, his 
style, and his admirers. But where this expurgation of a writer cannot 
be fully effected, there is one standing excuse for a favourite writer 
which may pass current for every thing that is ojfensive, whatever be 



Maitland on the Reformation. 11 

its kind or degree that is, the manners of the age. Only take that 
,-vvith you take it, perhaps, from some writer who repeats the phrase 
like a parrot, without knowing any thing about the age or its manners 
or language take it only on trust, as a phrase to which you do not, 
perhaps, yourself affix a very clear idea, and it is sufficient to cover any 
sin against propriety and decorum, and almost religion. With this 
salvo you may be expected to read with edification such things as if 
spoken or written in the present day would be considered absolutely 
ungodly and profane. 

"If, however, we wish to form a true judgment, this point must be looked into 
and settled. It is quite clear that some words and phrases which were in common 
use three hundred years ago, and which had then no character of coarseness, 
would be considered intolerably gross in the present ; but this, really, has nothing 
to do with the matter now under consideration. No more has any notion that may 
have been set on foot respecting the free, blunt, plain speech of our forefathers. It 
is not with coarse words or plain speech as such that we are concerned; though, at 
the same time, the use of coarse language in particular circumstances and to par 
ticular persons must be taken into account. I suppose, for instance, that there 
never was a period in the history of the united Church of England and Ireland when 
it would have been thought quite common-place and Christian for the Bishop of 
Ossory deliberately, and in print, to address the Bishop of London as a "beastlye 
belly-god and dainpnable donge-hille." But one of the most material, and in an 
historical point of view most injurious, effects of this sort of misrepresentation 
is, that it comes to be taken for granted that the fierce and virulent scurrility 
of some of the Puritan libels, which cannot be entirely concealed or defended, 
even by the most through-going partisans, was not characteristic of the writers, 
but of the times. Bishop Burnet is even kind enough to make a sort of an 
excuse for Sir Thomas More, by saying, " he wrote, according to the way of the 
age, with much bitterness ; " and so the bishop s readers may naturally infer 
that, whatever may be meant by " much bitterness," and whatever degree of it 
may be found in Sir Thomas More s works, it belonged not to the man, but was 
" the way of the age " that it was the way of people in those days; very wrong, 
no doubt, but at the same time as good for one as for another ; the Puritans 
abused the Papists, and the Papists abused the Puritans, tit for tat. As if Sir 
Thomas More and John Bale were as like as two peas. 

"Now, as far as I have yet been able to learn, this is really a false view of 
things. It is true enough that each party abused the other, and that many keen, 
severe, faLso, and malicious things were put forth by the Romish party ; but for 
senseless cavilling, scurrilous railing and ribaldry, for the most offensive person 
alities, for the reckless imputation of the worst motives and most pdioua vices ; 
in short, for all that was calculated to render an opponent hateful in the eyes of 
those who were no judges on the matter in dispute, some of the Puritan party 
went far beyond their adversaries. I do not want to defend the Roinish writers, 
and I hope I have no partiality for them, or for the errors, heresies, and supersti 
tions which they were concerned to maintain ; but it really appears to me only 
simple truth to say that, whether from good or bad motives, they did in fact 
abstain from that fierce, truculent, and abusive language, and that loathsome 
ribaldry, which characterised the style of too many of the Puritan writers. Spe 
cimens will frequently appear as other occasions may require; but here, and 
merely for the sake of illustrating what I have already said on the subject of 
style, I will give a few extracts from the works of three eminent Puritan writers, 
who may fairly be classed among the leaders f the party, not only on account 
of the eminent stations which they held, but for the talents and learning for 
which they have had credit, both among their own contemporaries, and from 
more modern writers. These extracts may probably suggest a good many things 
of various kinds to the reflecting reader, but it must be observed that they are 
here given only as specimens of style, denoting the character of certain writers ; 
and those who are previously acquainted with the works of the writers in ques 
tion, will be aware that, for obvious reasons, I do not quote past-ages which 
would but too broadly confirm what I have stated. 

" As I have already alluded to John Bale, Bishop of Ossory, and as he may 
perhaps be on the whole the fittest person to take the lead on such an occasion, 
I will first give some passage from his pen. Let not the reader who knows him 
be startled. 1 am not going even to mention some of his filthiest productions, 
or to extract the worst parts of that one work iroui which I now take specimens 
of his style. " 



78 Maitland on the Kef or mat tun. 

Here, then, we haye the distinctly expressed testimony of one 
of the most learned men in the Anglican communion to the purity 
and Christian spirit of the Catholic writers, as compared with 
their Protestant opponents. Our readers will observe that Dr. 
Maitland positively denies that the rules of Christian morality 
and charity were, as a general rule, broken through by tho 
Catholic controversialists ; and that though instances of com 
parative impropriety may be named among them, yet their 
writings are faultless in comparison with the productions of tho 
Reformers. And we have ourselves no hesitation in asserting 
that, in the whole range of Catholic literature, the same moral 
superiority is clearly and undeniably manifest. We do not 
pretend to claim for our writers, who have written controver 
sially on any topic in theology, science, or literature, an ab 
solutely immaculate purity. Far from it ; the visible Catholic 
Church is composed of men of all varieties of character, from 
the saint to the sinner. Nevertheless, on the whole, we have 
conducted our disputes among ourselves, and those which we 
have maintained with non-catholic writers, with a forbearance, 
a charity, and a decency of thought and language, which stand 
out in striking contrast with the reckless excesses which cha 
racterise almost every non- Catholic controversialist on any 
subject whatsoever. 

A further subject, bearing upon our knowledge of the Re 
formation period, is the degree of credulity due to the authors 
on whose records the Protestant opinion of the times is based. 
" For the history of the Reformation in England," says the 
author before us, " we depend so much on the testimony of 
writers who may be considered as belonging, or more or less 
attached, to the Puritan party ; or who obtained their infor 
mation from persons of that sect ; that it is of the utmost im 
portance to enquire whether there was any thing in their no 
tions respecting truth which ought to throw suspicion on any 
of their statements. " In a word, were not many of these 
sources of history, liars by their own confession, and on prin 
ciple ? Accordingly, Dr. Maitland has two chapters on "Pu 
ritan Veracity, " in which he very satisfactorily shews that 
with tfyese men the end constantly was held to sanctify the 



* 

Maitland on the Reformation. 79 

means ; and that therefore we have little or no guarantee that 
many of their stories of Protestant piety and Catholic cruelty 
were not fictions of the imagination, invented by these new 
apostles for the propagation of their new Christianity, and to 
be ranked among the most impudent of pious frauds with 
which priestcraft has ever deluded a credulous generation. 
We cannot, however, linger on this part of our subject ; and 
can only recommend Dr. Maitland s graphic stories and ex 
tracts to those who are not convinced that lying and perjury 
were accounted no sins by many of the founders of the Estab 
lished Church of England, and by those writers on whose 
chronicles our knowledge of the period is for the most part 
based. 

We now turn to the ribaldry of the Protestant party. This 
was a favourite weapon with the party, whose aim it was to 
bring the old religion into discredit with the people at large. 
Every one knows that though the multitude cannot reason, 
they can laugh. In our own days we have known a woman of 
notoriously infamous character in Paris, after braving success 
fully public opinion ( such as it was ) for years, finally driven 
from the field by falling into a scrape in which she became 
personally ridiculous. And if vice itself suffers from ridicule, 
still more fatally are its poisoned shafts made to tell upon 
that pure truth which, being bound to a more sparing and 
conscientious use of that cutting weapon, too often suffers 
bitterly in a contest of sarcasm. The Reformers, however, 
were bound by their notions to no such cautions and careful 
application of satire and scoffing. Insult and mockery were 
among their favourite instruments of warfare ; and cleverly and 
systematically were they turned to account by the leaders in 
the movement, and by all that influential party of men in 
office whose interest it was to overthrow the Church and seize 
upon its spoils. 

First in this fierce onslaught against all that was holy was 
Thomas Lord Cromwell. 
/ 

"He," says Dr. Maitland, " was the great patron of ribaldry, 
and the protector of the ribalds, of the low jester, the filthy ballad- 
monger, the alehouse singers, and hypocritical mockers in feasts," in 



80 Maitland on the Reformation. 

short, of all the blasphemous mocking and scoffing which disgraced tho 
Protestant party at the time of the Reformation. It is of great conse 
quence in our view of the times, to consider that the vile publications, 
of which too many remain, while most have rotted, and the profane 
pranks which were performed, were not the outbreaks of low, ignon nt 
partisans, a rabble of hungry dogs such as is sure to run after a par :y, 
in spite even of sticks and stones bestowed by those whom they follow 
and disgrace. It was the result of design and policy, earnestly and 
elaborately pursued by the man possessing, for all sucn purposes, the 
highest place and power in the land. " 

Burnct, in his History of the Reformation, describes one 
species of ribaldry thus employed against the Catholic reli 
gion. 

te These were the stage-plays and interludes which were then gene 
rally acted, and often in churches. They were representations of the 
corruptions of the monks, and some other feats of the Popish clerg j. 
The poems were ill-contrived, and worse expressed; if there lies not 
some hidden wit in these ballads (for verses they were not) which rt 
this distance is Jost. But from the representing tho immoralities and 
disorders of the clergy, they proceeded to act the pageantry of the r 
worship. This took with the people much, who being provoked by the 
miscarriages and cruelties of some of the clergy, were not ill-please I 
to see them and their religion exposed to public scorn. Tho clergy 
complained much of this ; and said it was an introduction to Atheisn , 
and all sort of irreligion. For if once they began to mock sacre 1 
things, no stop could be put to that petulent humour. The grave an 1 
learned sort of Reformers disliked and condemned these courses, as not 
suitable to the genius of true religion; but the political men of that 
party made great use of them, encouraging them all they could; f o 
they said, contempt being the most operative and lasting affection o ? 
the mind, nothing would more effectually drive oat many of thos ? 
abuses which yet remained, than to expose them to the contempt ami 
scorn of the people. " 

The statement made in the last sentence, Dr. Maitlanc 
looks upon as a direct falsehood. His own researches have 
furnished him with no proofs that these insulting mockeries 
were generally disapproved by the Reformers ; and he looks 
upon Burnet s interpretation of their motives as a piece of 
pure invention of his own. 

" To say the truth," says he, " I cannot but think that any one who 
observes how Burnet himself, when not particularly engaged in per 
forming the sincere historian, relates the profane and irreverent pranks 
which some of " the party " indulged, will doubt whether, if he had 
lived at the time, he would have been very forward or ver^ fierce in 
trying to stop or to punish "these courses." For instance, he relates 
an incident which occurred shortly after the accession of Queen Mary, 
in a tone which reminds me very much of the " mixture of glee and 
compunction " with which EJie Ochiltrec dwelt on the exploits of his 



Maitland on the Reformation. 81 

youth. The passage, not only for this, but for the historical fact itself, 
is much to our purpose, and quite worth quoting : " There are many 
ludicrous things every where done in derision of the old forms and of 
the images : many poems were printed, with other ridiculous represen 
tations of the Latin service, and the pageantry of their worship. But 
none occasioned more laughter than what fell out at Paul s the Easter 
before ; the custom being to lay the Sacrament into the sepulchre at 
even-song on Good Friday, and to take it out by break of day on Easter 
morning : at the time of the taking of it out, the quire sung these words, 
" Surrexit, non esthic, He is risen, he is not here :" but then the priest 
looking for the host, found it was not there indeed, for one had stolen it 
out ; wnich put them all in no small disorder, but another was presently 
brought in its stead. Upon this a ballad followed, That their God was 
stolen and lost, but a new one was made in his room. This raillery was 
eo salt, that it provoked the clergy much. They offered large rewards 
to discover him that had stolen the host, or had made the ballad, but 
could not come to the knowledge of it." Vol. ii. p. 270. 

" I do not know where Burnet got this story, because, as in too 
many other cases, he gives no authority. Fox relates the same thing 
as happening .on the same day at St. Pancras in Cheap, and perhaps it 
is the same story; and in the next paragraph Fox tells us a story that 
should not be separated from the other, and which Bishop Burnet 
might have considered equally " ludicrous : " " The 8th of April there 
was a cat hanged upon a gallows at the Cross in Cheap, apparelled like 
a priest ready to say mass, with a shaven crown. Her two fore feet 
were tried over her head, with a round paper like a wafer- cake put 
between them : whereon arose great evil-will against the city of 
London; for the Queen and the Bishops were very angry withal. And 
therefore the same afternoon there was a proclamation, that whosoever 
could bring forth the party that did hang up the cat should have 
twenty nobles, which reward was afterwards increased to twenty marks; 
but none could or would earn it. " Vol. vi. p. 548. 

"It is needless to say that the story is told by Fox without any mark 
of dislike or condemnation, for he has given ample proof that he en 
joyed such things amazingly. Indeed, it seems probable that his trou 
bles first began, while he was yet at college, from the indulgence of 
that jeering, mocking spirit which so strongly characterises his uiartyr- 
ology. Take a specimen that occurs only ten pages after the story of 
the cat, and which he introduces by saying, " But one thing, by the 
way, I cannot let pass, touching the" young flourishing rood newly set 
up against this present time to welcome King Philip into Paul s 
Cnurch ; " and having described the ceremony of its being set up, he 
proceeds : " Not long after this, a merry fellow came into Paul s, and 
spied the rood with Mary and John new set up ; whereto (among a 
great sort of people) he made a low courtesy, and said : Sir, your mas 
tership is welcome to town. I had thought to have talked further with 
your mastership, but that ye be here clothed in the Queen s colours. 
J hope ye be but a summer s bird in that ye be dressed in whito and 
green, &c." 

"Another brief specimen may be found in a story of a "mayor of 
Lancaster, who was a very meet man for such a purpose, and an old 
favourer of the Gospel, " who had to decide a dispute between the pa 
rishioners of Cockram and a workman whom they had employed to 
make a rood for their church. They refused to pay him, because, as 
they averred, he had made an ill-favoured figure,* gaping and grin 
ning in such a manner that their children were afraid to look at it. 
The "old favourer of the Gospel," vrho seems to have been much 

11 



82 Maitland on the Reformation. 

amused bj such a representation of bis Saviour being set up in the 
church, recommended thorn to go and take another look at it, adding, 
"And if it will not serve for a god, make no more ado, but clap a pair 
of horns on his hs.ul, and so hi will mik-? an exc -11 -nt devil." -This 
the parishioners took well in wroth; the poor man h-id hh monry ; ani 
divers laugh 3d well thereat bat so did noc th, .13 ibylonish priests. 
Strange that th3 priests did not join in the fun; and stranger still that 
those Wind Papists did not seise on tho .skirts of th3 4 * oi I favourer o ? 
the Gospel, and say, 4i We will go with you, for we see that Qod it 
with you. " 

Ballad-singing against the Church was one o the favourite 
devices of the Gospellers," as they wore called. Dr. Mait 
land gives specimens of this and similar schemes for bringing- 
Catholicism into disrepute. 

"A more open and more flagrant manifestation of this spirit wae 
given by Henry Patinsou and Anthony Barber, of Si. GilesVwithout- 
Uripplegate, who were presented for m.tint, lining th-. ir boys to sing a 
song against tho sacrament of the altar, " and Tiioin.is Grangier and 
John Dictier, of the sanu parish, were " noted for common singers 
against the sacra-mints and cjrouionies." Nicholas Newjll, a French 
man, of St. Miry Woolohureh, was " presented to be a in.in far gone iu 
the new religion, and that he w.is a great j eater at tin saints, and at 
our Lady. Shannons, Keeper of tin Carpenter s II ill, in Christ s 
paiiih, Shoreditch, i was presented for pi Ojaring an interlude to be 
openly played, wlnrein priests were railed on and cilled knaves. 
( Giles Harrison, b :ing in a plac.j wiuhouu AUgit.i, nnrrily jesting in a 
certain company of neighbours, wlnre sonn of th in said, * L?t us go 
to mass : ( i s:iy, tarry, said In ; and so taking a piece of bread in liis 
hands, lifted it up over his Inad : and liknvisj taking a cup of wine, 
and bowing down his h.-ad, ni.idj tinrjwiih a cross over the cup, and 
so taking the said cup in bach his h ind^, lifted it over his head, saying 
these words, IIive ye not hoard miss now ? for the which he was 
presented to Bomnr, then Bishop of London. I presume, however, 
that Giles Harrison was 0113 of thj.se wiio becum bail for each other ; 
and certainly there was a mx al beauty and liuijss iu making that good 
office mutual indeed, a so/t oi mcjsoity ; for if tiny had not douo it 
for each other, ho .v would they have got it done at 



Let us now proceed to Bishop Bomier, and commence with 
Dr. Maitland s view of his real character. The common idea 
which Englishmen entertain of this prelate is founded upon 
what they read in that book of legends, termed Fox s Book of 
martyrs. In Fox s estimation, Bouner was a ravening wolf, 
only happy when gorging him c!f widi victims, and frantic for 
blood. Yet see what even Fox s fads como to, when rigidly 
examined, apart 1 roin his own d due dons and colourings. In 
Eox s book, says Dr. Maitland, 

tf The rage and fury of prelates and persecutors is of course a constant theme, 
and afi ords many ludicrous tpecimens of non^enre aud ialeehood; none perhaps 
more so than the following. If the reader tunas to vol. v. p. 706, ho will find 



Maitland on the Reformation. 88 

that, at the third Session against Bonner, after Cranmer had been addressing 
the people/ and telling them how Bonner went about to deceive them, and had 
appealed to the said people, to judge of the denunciation against him, which he 
ordered to be read to them by Sir John Mason : This done, the Archbishop said 
again unto the audience, Lo ! here you hear how the Bishop of London is called 
for no such matter as he would persuade you. With this, continues the Mar- 
tyrologist, the Bishop being in a ra-rin<-/ h?i.t, as one cle>in v >id of all humanity , 
turned himself about unto the people [whom t.he Archbishop had made his 

judges], saying Xow, what doe.-? the reader suppose he paid ( of course, such 

a torrent of oaths, and brutal blasphemies, as no tcribe, though clean void of 
all humanity, unless he were aho in a rnging heat, could :et down in wiiting. 
Not at all nothing of the kind the story of the mountain in labour is clean 
outdone, unless we can imagine a volcano and a dormouse. Fox s own words are 
literaly what follow : The Bishop being in a raging hoaf, ."? one void of all hu 
manity, turned himself about unto the people, tayirg : Woll, now hear what the 
Bishop of London sa ith for his part. But the conmii .-ion?rs, scoing hu nordi- 
nate contumacy, denied him to tpoak any more, enying that he u od himself very 
disobediently ; with more like words of reproach. This is only given as one of 
many specimens continually recurring, and producing*, often insensibly, by drop 
ping on the minds of thoughtless renders, fixed and obttinate, though ob.-.cure 
and unfounded, ideas, that they have read dreadful things about shocking rage, 
and passion, and inordinate contumacy, and di. obedience, arid rueii ted reproach, 
when in fact they have merely been clup nl by a t; le full of .-omul and fury 
not indeed signifying nothing, but eiguifying something very different from 
what they have understood, or were meant to understand by it. " 

What, then, is our author s own opinion of Bonner, as de- 
duced from the writings of his bitter foe, the Martyrologist 1 
The bloody wolf is transformed into something like a good- 
tempered mastiff, who might be safely played with, and who, 
though he might be teased into barking and growling, had no 
disposition to bite, and would not do it without orders. 
Bonner s character is throughout that of a man straightforward 
and hearty, familiar and humorous ; sometimes rough, perhaps 
coarse; naturally hot-tempered, but obviously (by the testimony 
of his enemies) placable and easily entreaied, capable of 
bearing most patiently much intemperate and insolent lan 
guage, much reviling and low abuse directed against himself 
personally, against his order, and against those peculiar 
doctrines and practices of his Church, for maintaining which 
he had himself suffered the loss of all things, and borne long 
imprisonment.- At the same time ho was not incapable of 
being provoked into saying harsh and passionate things, but 
generally meaning nothing by the thre; tenings and slaughter 
he breathed out, but to intimidate those oil whose ignorance 
and simplicity argument seemed thrown away. In short, we 
can scarcely read with attention any one of the cases detailed 
by those who wore no friends of Bonner, without seeing in him 
a judge who (even if; we grant that he was dispensing bad 



84 Maitland on the Reformation. 

laws badly) was obviously desirous to save the prisoner s life. 
The enemies of Bonner have very inconsiderately thrust forward 
and even exaggerated this part of his character, and represented 
him as a fawning, flattering, coaxing person, as one who was 
only anxious to get those submissions, abjurations, and recan 
tations, which would have robbed the wild beast of his prey. 
That he did procure a great number of recantations there can 
be no doubt, and as little doubt can there be that " Puritan 
veracity" has by no means recorded all the effects of hs 
persuasion. Such is the opinion of the late librarian of the 
Archbishop of Canterbury, respecting that Bonner who is held 
up to the infant Protestant mind as the incarnation of every 
thing that is murderous and diabolical. We cannot follow 
Dr. Maitland through the various passages he quotes from Fos: 
and others in justification of his defence of the Bishop, but it 
is impossible to read them fairly and not be convinced that tha 
estimate he has formed of Bonner s personal character is- 
substantially correct, and that, as a true Christian Bishop, hi 
was more anxious to save their souls than to burn their bodies. 
One specimen of the style in which he conducted the examina 
tion of the accused will shew the extraordinary impudence 
which he bore from them with all the good nature which Dr. 
Maitland attributes to him. It is a fragment of the examina 
tion of one Robert Smith. 

" Bonner. By the mass this is the most unshamef aced heretic that over I hearc 
speak. 

" Smith. Well sworn, iny Lord ; ye keep a good watch. 

" Bonner. " Well, master comptroller, ye catch me at my words : but 1 wil! 
watch -thee as well, I warrant thep. 

" By my troth, my Lord, quoth Master Mordaunt, I never heard the like ir 
all my life. Fox, vii. 351. 

"The argument went on, however, without much interruption or variation ol 
style, until the Bishop, thinking enough had been said respecting the sacrament 
of baptism, went on. 

" Bonner. < Well, sir, what say you to the sacrament of orders? 

" Smith. Ye may call it the sacrament of mil-orders ; for all orders are appoin 
ted of God. But as for your shaving, anointing, greasing, polling, and rounding, 
there are no such things appointed in God s book, and therefore I have nothing 
to do to believe your orders. And as for you, my Lord, if ye had grace and in 
telligence, ye would not so disfigure yourself as ye do. 

"Bonner. Sayest thou so? Now, by my troth, I will go shave myself, to 
anger thee withal : and so sent for hi.s barber, who immediately came. And 
before my face at the door of next chamber he shaved himself, desiring me before 
he went to answer to these articles. 

****** 

" With this came my Lord from shaving, and asked me how I liked him ? 

<f Smith. Forsooth, ye are even as wise as ye were before ye were shaven. 

" Bonner. IIow standpth it, master doctors, have yp done any good ? 



Maitland on the Reformation. 8f> 

"Doctor. No, by my troth, my Lord, we can do no good. 
" Smith. < Then it is fulfilled which is written, How can *n evil tree brifig 
forth good fruit? " 

Another extract will serve as an example of our author s 
mode of dissection of the stories by which the deeds of 
Bonner have been distorted and misinterpreted. It is but a 
sample of many such. Fuller tells us that the bloody wolf 
Bonner scourged one John Fetty, a lad of eight years old, 
to death as a heretic. Let us now hear Dr. Maitland s exa 
mination of the fact. 

" John Fetty, the father of the child in question, was a simple and 
godly poor man, * dwelling in the parish of Clerkenwell, and was by 
vocation a taylor, of the age of twenty-four years or thereabout. H& 
seems to have married at an age when he could not be expected to shew 
much discretion in choosing a partner ; for this (not his only, and per 
haps not his eldest) child was ( of the age of eight or nine years. He 
suffered for his youthful indiscretion ; for his wife, disapproving his 
resolution * not to come into the church, and be partaker of their ido 
latry and superstition, was so cruel, or so zealous, as to denounce 
him to one Brokenburv, a priest and parson of the same parish. 
Accordingly, * through the said priest s procurement, he was appre 
hended bv Richard Tanner, and nis fellow-constables the T3, and one 
Martin the headborough. Immediately after doing this the poor 
woman was seized with such remorse that she became ( distract of her 
wits. Even the pitiless Papists were moved ; the Balaamite priest 
and the constables, and headborough, all agreed, for the sake of her 
and her two children, that they would for that present let her husband 
alone, and would not carry him to prison, but yet suffered him to re 
main quietly in his own house ; during which time, he, as it were for 
getting the wicked and unkind fact of his wife, did yet so cherish and 
provide for her, that within the space of three weeks (through God s 
merciful providence) she was well amended, and had recovered again 
iome stay of her wits and senses. But strange to say, ( so soon as aha 
had recovered some health, her cruelty or zeal revived, and she ( did 
again accuse her husband. The steps are not stated ; but wo may 
reasonably suppose them to have been the same as before. Now how 
ever, as there was nothing to interrupt the common course of things, 
John Fetty was carried unto Sir John Mordaunt, Knight, one of the 
Queen s Commissioners, and ho upon examination sent him by Cluny, 
the bishop s sumner, unto the Lollards Tower. On what charge 
(except so far as may be gathered from what has been already stated) 
Sir John sent him to prison we are not told; but there he lay for fifteen 
days, and probablv Bonner knew no more of his being there, than ho 
kn^ew of Thomas Green s being twice as long in his own coal-house. 

" Perhaps while her husband lay in prison, the poor woman, who 
may so peculiarly be termed the wife of his youth, relented, and 
thought herself happy that, owing to their early marriage, they had 
already a child of an age to traverse the streets of London, of f a bold 
and quick spirit, 5 who would make his way in search of his father ; and 
at the same time, { godly brought up, and knowing how to behave 
hinwelf before his elders and betters at the Bishop s palace. I own, 
however, that this is mere supposition, and that I find no particular 



86 Maitland un the Reformation. 

ground for supposing that his mother knew that he was cone out upon 
what may have bern only a spontaneous pilgrimage of filial piety; but, 
to come to facts, it is clearly stated that he came unto the Bishop s 
house to see if he could got leave to speak with his father. At htw 
coming thither one of the Bishop s chaplains met with him, and asked 
him what he lacked, and what he would have. The child answered, 
that he came to see his father. The chaplain asked again who was hid 
father. The boy then told him, and pointing towards Lollards Tower, 
shewed him that his father was there in prison. AVhy, quoth the 
priest, thy father is a heretic. The child being of a bold quick 
spirit, and also godly brought up, and instructed by his father in the 
knowledge of God, answered and said, My father is no heretic; for 
you have BALAAM S MARK. 

By this notable speech the unhappy child has gained a place in the 
holy army of martyrs. At least (so far as Fox tells us) ne said an 1 
did nothing else ; though perhaps we mav take it for granted that the 
precocious little polemic shewed his bold and quick spirit, and hi i 
godly bringing up, in some other smart savings, and gave some other 
privy nips to the Balaamite priest, such as Bishop Christopherson 
and IVIilcs Hoggard would not have approved, before he got the whip- 

Eing, which he is said to have received ere he reached his father in th^ 
ollards Tower. For * the priest took the child by t .ic hand, and lee 
him into the Bishop s house, says Fox ; and he adds, with the absurdity 
which so often and so happily neutralises his malice, whether to tin 
Bishop or not I know not, but like enough he did. 9 Like enough - 
is that all? and is there the least likelihood of such a thing ? especially 
when Fox proceeds to state that the child as soon as he had been whip 
ped was taken to his father in the tower, and fell on his knees and tolc. 
him his pitiful story, how a priest with Balaam s mark took him into 
the Bishop s house," and there was he so handled ; but not a word die 
the child say of ever seeing the Bishop. Fox himself dared not pui 
more in his marginal note than The miserable tyranny of the Papist.: 
in scourging a child. 

" The historian, however, tells us that they detained the boy ( whou 
they probably considered as a go-between) for three days ; and the eiic 
of that time Bonner makes his first appearance in the history. Anc 
then we are introduced to him, not burning heretics, but basting oJ 
himself against a great fire* in his bedroom. There is nothing to snew 
that he had ever before heard of cither John Fetty or his child ; but OD 
that occasion the father (and as far as appears the father only ) wat 
brought before him. He quickly shewed by his conduct and discourse 
that he was either a sort of half-witted person, or else that finding 
himself in awkward circumstances he wished to pass for one. In that 
character, whether natural or artificial, he talked some sad nonsense 
and impertinence to the Bishop, who having, of course, gone through 
the necessary preliminaries of being in a marvellous rage and a 
great fury? and then again being in fear of the law for murdering 
a child, (for all at once it has come to be quite certain that the 
child was killed, and by Bonner too, and therefore he ) discharged 
him. It is remarkable that on one point Fox says absolutely nothing, 
there is not a word of the prisoner s bein; asked to abjure, or re 
cant, or submit, or amend his evil ways no hint of his being offered, 
or signing, any bill ( as Fox calls it ), or of any thing of the kind, 
so common on such occasions. I think, however," that every well-in 
formed reader will suspect that so far as prudential reasons and fear 
of the law might weigh with a bloody wolf, Bonner must have known 
it would have been safer for him to whip two tailor-prentices * K 



Mai Hand on the Reformation. 87 

death, and hide them in his coal-house, than to discharge one pri 
soner committed under the warrant of Sir John Mordaunt without a 
recantation or submission, or some sort of voncher, to lay before 
the Council. But nothing, I repeat, is said about it. 

"Our business, however, is rather with the story of the unfortunate little 
creature, whom, for his impertinence, Fox has made a martyr. Within fourteen 
days after he had been taken home by his father the child is said to have died; 
and Fox most characteristically adds, Whether through this cruel scourging, or 
any other infirmity, / know not ; and therefore I refer the truth thereof unto the 
Lord who knoweth all secrets, and also to the discreet judgment of the wise 
reader; discreet and wise historian he gives no hint how he picked up the 
story, and does not venture to insinuate that the boy, or the father, or any body 
else ever said that the Bishop even knew of the whipping. Such is the authority 
for Fuller s bold, brief, and, 1 suppose I may add. fake statement. " 

Bonner, then, and Gardiner (for the same conclusions apply 
to him as to Bonner) must, in all truth and fairness, be looked 
upon merely as representatives of the principle of their age. 
They were administrators of the laws of the land, which were 
not different from the laws of the rest of the world, and were 
based on the same ideas of justice and mercy as the laws of 
Protestant kingdoms. Whatever be our theory as to the 
lawfulness of persecution in itself, or as to the advisablcness 
of carrying it to the severe extent to which it was carried under 
Queen Mary, it is preposterous to speak of Bonner as a 
monster who was a disgrace to our common humanity. The 
closer we look into facts, the clearer does it appear, that so far 
from desiring to push a cruel law to its utmost possible extent 
of harshness, he repeatedly strove to strip it of its terrors, and 
to administer it in the most lenient spirit that would be per 
mitted by the secular power. Indeed, it is certain that so far 
was he from revelling in needless bloodshedding, that on one 
occasion he was reproved by the court for his slowness in execut 
ing the laws, and stimulated to a more prompt and rigid adhe 
rence to the letter and spirit of the statutes against heresy. 
He shed blood because he was compelled to do it, partly by the 
command3 of his own conscience, and partly by the urgency 
of the lay authorities of the time. 

But now let us proceed a step further, and " clearing our 
minds of cant" a little more thoroughly, inquire dispassionately, 
how far the age in which Bonner lived was really to be blamed 
for burning heretics in Smithfield. If we are willing, indeed, 
to adopt the popular fancy on the question, as people now with 
parrot-tongues repeat the worn-out theme, religious persecution 



88 Maitlandon the Reformation. 

is monstrous, wicked, absurd, and anti-Chistian in the utmost 
extreme. If we are to give credit to the prevailing sentiment, 
the reader will mark well that we say nothing of the prevailing 
practice, it was a horrible act in Queen Mary and her advisers 
to put the " martyrs" to death, not merely because tlie 
punishment was excessive, but because one man has no right 
whatsoever to persecute another for the sake of his religious 
belief. Such is the general theory now upheld by the vast 
majority of the Protestant world, while the idea is counte 
nanced, or at least timidly assented to, by many persons in the 
Catholic Church itself. From speeches in Parliament down to 
penny tracts, the whole voice of the nation joins in one loud 
cry against the lawfulness of religious persecution ; orators, 
pulpit, parliamentary, forensic, and from the tub ; fathers 
of families, smitten with horror at the very name of " bloody 
Mary; " school-teachers, lecturers, and governesses ; the wholo 
race of Englishmen and Englishwomen denounce all persecu 
tion as an infringement of the rights of man, and a violation 
of the first principles of the Gospel of mercy and peace. 
Far from contenting themselves with condemning the Smithfielc 
burnings as needlessly and cruelly severe, they pretend that i: 
is wrong ever to persecute, and that they themselves consistent!} 
repudiate all persecution in their own conduct towards others. 
For ourselves, on the contrary, we are prepared to maintain, 
that it is no more morally wrong to put a man to death foi 
heresy than for murder ; that in many cases persecution for 
religious opinions is not only permissible, but highly advisable 
and necessary ; and further, that no nation on earth, Catholic 
or Protestant, ever did, ever does, or ever will, consistently 
act upon the idea that such persecution is forbidden by the laws 
of God in the Gospel. Let not our readers be amazed ; we 
are not about to propose the erection of a gibbet in Smithfield, 
so soon as the wisdom of the enlightened citizens of London 
shall banish the cattle from that notorious locality, or to bring 
forward a plan for burning the worthy aldermen who now 
regard cleanliness and Catholicism with equal horror. We 
abhor all such frightful exhibitions ; and were it ever our duty 
to put an unbeliever to death, would take his life with the ut- 



Mai f I and on the Reformation. 89 

most possible gentleness. But at the same time we cannot re 
echo the cant of the day, which condemns the Marian persecu 
tion as utterly vile and wrong, however cordially we may agree 
with those who think that it was most injudicious, most need 
lessly severe, and most unfortunate in its results. All we 
allege is, that a secular government is perfectly justified in 
inflicting penalties and punishments for religious opinions in 
certain cases, and under certain circumstances; and 
though in the present state of the world, and especially of the 
English world, persecution, even of the slightest description, is 
generally, if not always, undesirable and indefensible, yet 
that instances do incessantly occur in which persecution, in 
some form or other, is both wise, merciful, necessary, and 
Christian. 

There are two points of view from which the question may be 
considered. We may look at the secular power either as bound 
to promote the spiritual as well as the temporal welfare of its 
subjects, or as concerned merely with their present happiness 
and prosperity. We are not disposed, however, to enter at 
present upon any topic which would assume the former of these 
theories, as we wish to narrow the discussion as much as 
possible, and to shew that all men, upon their own princi 
ples, are bound to admit that persecution is not in itself and 
in all circumstances wrong. If it be granted, indeed, that a 
body of men forming a nation, or exercising the rights of a 
secular authority, are bound as a body to promote those reli 
gious interests which they hold sacred and uphold as individuals, 
then it is plain, without further argument, that if I, as a pri 
vate person, am right in excluding blasphemers, adulterers, and 
infidels from the society of my children and servants, lest they 
corrupt them by their evil example, I am also bound, in any 
magisterial or legislative capacity which may belong to me, to 
use similar measures for banishing blasphemers, adulterers, and 
infidels from all communication with the people at large over 
whom I exercise authority. Whatever steps are lawful to the 
individual, are lawful to the society ; and if I am justified in 
dismissing a nursery-maid because she would teach my child 
that the CkriBtiaD religion is a falsehood, though the 



90 Mailland on the Reformation. 

would plunge her into the deepest poverty, I am equally justified 
in inflicting fines and imprisonment upon any public teachers 
who insist upon promulgating similar doctrines, however 
solemn be their assertion that they are conscientious in the be 
lief they would propagate. We shall however, not press this 
view of the question, but confine ourselves to its necessary 
bearings, on the supposition that civil government is a purely 
secular institution, which is bound to protect and further tLe 
temporal happiness and enjoyment of mankind, and this alono. 

No sensible person, then, can deny that a good secular gov 
ernment will apply itself to the correction of every evil which 
may work mischief to the people over whom it bears rule. 
It matters not what may be the theoretical origin of any socul 
mischief, its existence will be sufficient to call for the exercise 
of the authority of the law for its extirpation. A scoundrd 
who robs or swindles his neighbour is not to be let off from tli3 
treadmill or the hulks, because he has a plausible metaphysical 
hypothesis to urge in favour of robbing and swindling. 
The state must not be scared from putting forth its strength to 
crush every species of enemy to its prosperity and comfort, 
by any real or imaginary difficulty in drawing the line between 
what is theological and what is secular, between what is tem 
poral and what is eternal. It must do its duty vigorously anc 
consistently, though at the expense of trenching upon th( 
domains of religious creeds, and of wounding the conscientious 
belief of some section of its subjects. This we may assume 
will be granted by every man of sober sense and real candour. 

When, however, this principle is brought into action, at once 
it appears utterly impossible that the secular power should refuse 
to take cognisance of the differences in men s religious creeds 
as such. There is not a creed in existence which does not 
powerfully affect the temporal happiness of mankind. Which 
ever among the opposing divisions of Christianity be true, it is 
undeniable that a man is a better or a worse member of society 
according to the creed he professes and acts upon. We know 
that this is an unpalatable opinion in the present day, and that 
the popular voice proclaims that all creeds are equally 
advantageous to our social well-being, provided their followers 



( 

Mai f land on the. Reformation. \ 

do but conscientiously act up to their professions. Tolerai 
is defended upon the ground that a pious Catholic, a pious 
Anglican, a pious Lutheran, a pious Socinian, and a pious 
Jew, will all be equally good citizens and members of the 
great brotherhood of humanity, notwithstanding the dissimi 
larities in their dogmatic belief and religious practices. But 
they who say this really know nothing whatever either of the 
actual differences which exist between various creeds, or of the 
extent of their influence upon their followers. Facts are so 
diametrically opposed to the theory, that the notion of the in 
discriminate toleration of all sects vanishes before the first 
sight of their real character. A man of one creed is a better 
citizen than a man of another. There are religions which tend 
more powerfully to overthrow the foundations of civil society 
than the most inflammatory speeches of the most seditious of 
demagogues. There are interpretations of Scripture which call 
for the interference of the police as loudly as the wildest fa 
naticism of the Socialist, the Communist, or the Red Republi 
can. Just now these things may be so far dormant as not to 
strike the public eye ; but they may wake into life and activity 
in a moment, and demand a rigorous crushing from the might 
of soldiers, policemen, and acts of Parliament. 

Short of these extreme excesses also, it is preposterous to 
deny, that the temporal well-being of a state is materially 
affected by the creed of its members. We know very well that 
the most elementary laws of social morality are better observed 
by persons of one religious faith than by those of another. We 
no more think of forgetting the differences in people s creeds in 
the business of private daily life, than of obliterating the 
distinctions between sex and age, between the governor and the 
governed. If I have any pecuniary dealings with a Catholic, I 
am more confident that he will not try to cheat me than if he 
were a Protestant. I am much more afraid of being swindled 
cr libelled by an "evangelical " than by a Puseyite. I would 
rather make a bargain with a Socinian than with a Baptist ; and 
would let my furnished house to a Wesleyan rather than to an 
Independent. And why ? Because I know well that the mora 
lity of all these sects does practically vary according to their 



9 2 Mail! and on the Reformation. 

theological belief; and that an Anglican, who believes that good 
works are necessary to salvation, is much less likely to be a 
rogue, than a Lutheran who thinks that he is justified by faith, 
without any good works at all. What is it to me, that the Lu 
theran is as sincerely convinced of his creed as the Anglican, 
and as conscientiously acts up to it ? His very creed itself tempts 
him to sin, and makes him a worse subject and a worse citizen, 
a worse dealer and a worse servant, than if he looked forward 
to a judgment to come, when he will be tried according to his 
deeds. 

How absurd, then, to suppose that the moment we aro 
called to make laws and execute them we are to set aside theso 
pregnant truths, and treat all creeds as if all were equally 
favourable to social happiness and civil government ! It is mero 
cant to condemn Catholic sovereigns or Catholic parliament* 
for enacting decrees to stop the progress of opinions which 
they regard as hostile to all honesty, sobriety, and peacea- 
bleness. If the House of Commons conscientiously believed 
that the taxes would be better paid, and the gaols emptied, by 
inducing all Englishmen to go to confession to a Catholic pries, 
three or four times a year, what conceivable reason is there tc 
forbid their taking such steps for the promotion of the Catholic 
religion as might be in their power ? If the nation could be 
set free from some millions of taxation now expended on prisons, 
courts of law, police, and military, by the propagation of the 
Catholic religion and the forcible silencing of the preachers of 
Protestantism, can any man be so simple as to believe that 
Parliament would hesitate to clap the Rev. Hugh M Neile into 
gaol, and to bind over Sir Robert Inglis to keep the peace 
against the Pope ? In very truth, we should be sorry to change 
places with these celebrated anti-Popish orators, were the 
Tories, Whigs, and Radicals of the House of Commons once 
convinced that Catholics are better subjects than Protestants, 
and that a man who goes to confession is less likely to be a 
swindler and a thief than one who boasts of being a Bible 
Christian and calls the Pope Antichrist. Whatever might be the 
private convictions of our lawgivers themselves, could they once 
ee that the peace of society, the happiness of families, and 



Maitland on tht Reformation. 93 

the treasures of the national exchequer, would be materially 
benefited by the cessation of all the anti-Popish declamations 
now so rife amongst us, we should be sorry to expend a solitary 
sixpence in insuring the liberty of speech which would be 
granted to Sir Peter Laurie and other notorious apostles o 
Protestantism from our very liberal and very tolerant Parlia 
ment. We do not think that the Government would proceed to 
burn Sir Peter, or to whip Sir Peter, or to hang Sir Peter ; but 
we have no doubt that they would take as effective measures 
for making Sir Peter hold his tongue as they have taken for 
quieting the unfortunate Smith O Brien, and for putting an end 
to the demonstrations of the belligerent Cuffey. 

All this, however, it will be said, is very different from com 
mitting men and women to the flames for denying transubs- 
tantiation. Granted ; it is different but only in degree ; the 
principle involved is one and the same. An Act of Parliament 
empowering magistrates to silence summarily all men who by 
word or writing maintain that civil authority has no claim upon 
our obedience, is founded on the very same principles of 
government as the Acts of Parliament under which Bishop 
Bonner burnt the " martyrs" in Smithfield. There is persecu 
tion for opinions involved in both alike the dissimilarity is 
only in the measure of the punishment. Were some wild fa 
natics to follow about the judges, and at every assize town gather 
together a mob, and harangue them on the unlawfulness of all 
oaths and the sinfulness of hanging men for murder, of course 
the Home Secretary would ferret out some dormant law em 
powering him to transfer the offenders from the platform to the 
treadmill, or from the cart from which they preached to the bar 
of the court of justice whose authority they impugned. And 
just such were the measures of Queen Mary for the extirpation 
of Protestantism. They were repressive measures. There is 
not a particle of evidence to shew that if the Protestants had 
peaceably held their tongues they would have suffered the loss 
of a hair of their heads. They provoked the persecution they 
endured. They insulted and defied the civil government of the 
land. They preached sedition and treason as a part of their 
religious creed, and dared the Queen and her Ministers to their 

13 



94 Maitland on the Reformation. 

face. Of course they were punished, as they deserved. Mary 
would have been an idiot to endure their proceedings. She 
might as well have descended at once from her throne, and 
plunged the whole kingdom into anarchy and ruin. 

As to the peculiar bloodiness of her punishments, she only 
acted upon the received notions of the time. In those dayu 
people thought no more of killing a man than we now think of 
killing a sheep. We are now tender-hearted, civilised, and re 
fined. In those days the world was rough and rude, and tho 
law slaughtered offenders for the slightest crimes. Such laws, 
we grant, were absurd, severe, and generally failed of their 
object. No man has a dcoper horror than we have of the blood 
thirsty Draconian spirit of the old English jurisprudence. 

We look upon our grandfathers as little short of insane, 
when they hung people by hundreds for sheep-stealing and for 
gery. But still we cannot forget that this murderous spirit 
did actually animate the whole criminal law of this country 
We cannot put down the burning of heretics under Mary, and 
the executions and torturings of Catholics under Elizabeth and 
James, and even down to the reign of George the Second to 
any thing but the rude ferocious ideas of the times ; or look 
upon Bonner as a whit more blooby-minded a persecutor than 
Sir Herbert Jenner Fust, when he enforces the laws of tho 
Church of England upon refractory parsons, or the Right Rev. 
Dr. Philpotts, when he puts the Rev. James Shore into Exeter 
gaol. Now-a-days we are sensitive almost to effeminacy 
Maudlin tears are shed over murderers pangs, and the suffer 
ing housebreaker extorts the pity which our ancestors would 
have refused to a city given up to military plunder and outrage 
Consequently we now persecute for rrligious opinions with a 
delicate forbearance, and even cloak our unwilling severities 
with the guise of toleration. And so long as modern civilisa 
tion wears its present aspect, so long will religious persecution 
be restrained to political disqualifications, moderate fines, dor 
mant penalties, decrees of the Court of Arches, and the hospi 
talities and amenities of Exeter gaol. Should that very im 
probable state of things which we have supposed ever come to 
pass, and the British- Parliament do homage to the social ad 



Maitland on the, Reformation. 95 

jantages to be derived from the practice of auricular confession, 
the Lauries, the Inglises, the Plumptres, and tie Tjrells who 
may still survive, need fear no rack or torture, no floggings or 
faggots ; they will be chastised and restrained with the same 
courteous moderation which we now shew in feeding the con 
demned felon with better food than the toiling peasant, and in 
contriving to make the penitentiary a place of recreation for 
our starving millions. 

Apart, then, from all idea of the spiritual and religious duties 
of any secular government, we conclude that the time never will 
come when the civil power can for any length of time treat all 
religions on an equal footing, because a man s conduct as a 
citizen is powerfully affected by the doctrines and customs of the 
creed he professes. The only state of things in which we can 
approximate to such an indifference to the character of different 
sects is such as that which now prevails in our own country, where 
the population is so equally divided between different religions 
that it becomes impossible for any one division to be alone fa 
voured and supported. While Catholic and Protestant, Chris 
tian and Unbeliever, Anglican and Dissenter,, are on the whole 
so equally balanced as to numerical and personal preponder 
ance, the councils of the nation will confine themselves to such 
petty and unfair artifices as the exclusion of Jews from Par 
liament, and the bullying of recalcitrant curates. But should 
any one creed again succeed in winning the affections of the 
great heart of the nation, we hold it ridiculous to suppose that 
Parliament would hesitate to discourage all opposition to that 
creed, though solely on secular grounds, by such penalties as it 
may then be the fashion to inflict for offences in general. If 
northern barbarism has by that time swept over the fair face 
of Europe, and brought back the untamed savage feelings of 
other days ; if human life is again held cheap among us, and 
a pecuniary fine is thought ample compensation for the blood 
of a fellow- creature ; then shall we see the ruling creed sup 
ported by severe, and it may be by bloody, laws. But ir our 
present feelings on the nature of all punishment still have root 
amongst us, the refractory theologian will be merely visited with 
gentle fines and comfortable imprisonment ; or perhaps will be 



96 Jlncient Irish Dominican Schools. 

sent across the seas to preach his heresies to the few aboriginal 
savages who shall still be found in the forests of America or 
the plains of Central Australia. Meanwhile, let us clear our 
minds of cant for ever, and cease, if we are Protestants, to 
revile, and if we are Catholics, to be ashamed of, Queen Mary 
and Bishop Bonner, as if they hardly deserved the name of 
Christians. 



ANCIENT IRISH DOMINICAN SCHOOLS. 

( From the Dublin Review. ) 

A glance over the leading periodicals and more elaborate 
works, with which the Anglican press has been teeming for SOUK 
time past, satisfies us that at no former period of our literature 
was there a more willing mind amongst the most learned of our 
separated brethren than at the present moment, to receive 
information and pronounce impartial judgment respecting tht 
claustral character and social influences of the various orders of 
the ancient regular clergy. People of education are likely be 
fore long to be shamed our of the phrases, "monkish ignorance" 
and " dark ages ; " than which no terms have been more 
conventional in ordinary discourse, and more hackneyed in 
every path of literature. Of late a spirit of historical enquiry 
is struggling through these masses of popular, literary, and 
sectarian prejudices and misrepresentations. Maitland has done 
good service in the cause of justice to " the monks of old. " a 
Beckoned on by the honoured shades of Mabillon and his 
cloistered brethren, the librarian of Canterbury has forced a 
passage for truth through heaps of misquotations, and cleared 
away much of the accumulated rubbish of protestant traditions; 
and with learned toil and clerical intrepidity, has bhown how 
malignant or illusive are the common notions about the state of 
literature, as well as of religion, in the ages, still called with 
pertinacious ignorance, " the Dark Ages." But his researches 

e " The D*rk Aprs, " 4r.., hy RPV. S. R, Maitland, 184-1 



Ancient Irish Dominican Schools. 97 

range only from the ninth to the twelfth centuries. We regret 
that his subject did not extend beyond the glorious eras of the 
Benedictines and Cistercians, and that he did not trace the 
literary zeal and services, of the renovated form of monastic- 
ism, which sprung up in the thirteenth century, when the active 
life was combined with the contemplative spirit, and the imper 
sonation of all the ascetism of the cloister, and the charity of 
the apostleship, was embodied in the conventual missionary, 
or " Friar Preacher, " Then it was that new alliances were 
formed throughout Christendom between the sciences and the 
religious orders. That was the most interesting and eventful 
period of collegiate history, when the learning that had been 
nursed and fostered by monks and churchmen from the most 
remote antiquity, went forth under the auspices of religion 
from amidst the consecrated shadows of cathedrals and abbeys, 
and centralized the higher studies in universities ; incorpora 
ting faculties, endowing halls, privileging scholars, and mar 
shalling graduates from all nations, and in all costumes ; scarlet 
cloaks, black cassocks, academic gowns, mingling picturesquely 
with bleached scapulars, dark cowls, and all the prismatic 
variety of monastic habits. At that time the great intellectual 
movement commenced, to which even our present collegiate 
agitation must be referred for its primary impulse, if not di 
rection ; then was the republic of letters, after a pure Catholic 
model, organized and founded; and amongst the leaders of 
the educational reforms the constructors of all that is most 
solid and beautiful in the learned institutions the high intel 
lects who were seated in the first chairs of the universities 
history gives a prominent place to the members of the orders 
of St. Dominic and St. Francis. In the extension to our own 
country of the scholastic improvements then maturing on the 
continent, the regular clergy were also eminently conspicuous 
and useful. "We find," says Mr. Wyse, in his speech at Cork, 
for the establishment of Provincial Colleges , " a similar spirit 
animating the religious as well as the secular clergy. I cannot 
instance nobler proofs than were exhibited by the Benedictines, 
the Dominicans, the Franciscans, the Augustinians, the Jesuits. 
The Dominicans, in particular, signalized themselves in this 



98 Ancient Irish Dominican Schools. 

country by their devotion to the cause of academical and colle 
giate education ;" and then the eloquent speaker proceeds to 
state a great effort made by the Dominicans in the 17th century, 
for the foundation of provincial colleges in Ireland, of which 
we shall have occasion to speak at another time. 

It was the perusal of this passage, bearing such honourable 
testimony to the literary devotedness and exertions of the vene 
rable monastic orders, which determined the subject of our 
present paper, not only for the purpose of vindicating thos.e 
ancient associations from the charge of checking the growth 
and expansion of the human mind by systematic resistance :o 
every form of intellectual culture, but also under the irrepressible 
promptings within ourselves of a hope, that the ;. tenement f;o 
auspiciously commenced towards the Alma Mater of Cathol.c 
Ireland might be extended in an enlarged spirit of tolerance 
and generosity, not to speak of strict restitution of rights, to 
those suppressed and spoliated, and once more doomed, monastic 
establishments, which, in former ages, were not only sanctuark s 
of holiness, but also nurseries of learning in our country. 

For the illustration of our subject, we select the Domin - 
cain order, rather than the Benedictines, or Jesuits ; not only 
because these have been so ofi.en brought in this Review befoie 
our readers, in connection with learning ; but also because tie 
Dominican is more intimately connected with the history cf 
education in Ireland, and its intellectual character and inap 
preciable services in the reform of early university educatior , 
are as familiar as household topics with the writers of the ne*y 
Anglican school of scholars and divines. 

The culture of the sciences, divine and human, entered a? 
an elementary idea into the first construction of the order of 
St. Dominic. The blessed founder spent many an anxious, de 
vout, and penitential vigil on the steps of the altar, organizing 
in his mind such a society of learned missionary priests, as tho 
actual state of the church and of society then peculiarly re 
quired. He determined that the chief and characteristic func- 



See, for example, British Critic, Janunry, 1843. Article "E.irte acd the 
Philosophy of the 13tb Century." Si -hts iu Foreign Chiuciie;, \>y 1 uler, pp. U 
~ 



Ancient Irish Dominican Schools. 99 

tion of the new association which he contemplated, should be 
public instruction in faith and morals. The patriarchal man 
of God would impress the character of his own well-educated 
mind, and the movements of his own glowing zeal, on the re 
ligious order which Providence designed to be the offspring of 
his spirit and the inheritor of his name. In his own ministry 
he combined the attributes, and discharged the duties, of a 
doctor and a missionary. He publicly expounded to the pon 
tifical household the sacred Scriptures, in which he was exten 
sively and profoundly learned ; and was therefore honoured by 
the pope with the office and title of " Master of the Sacred 
Palace," which privilege continues to be an heir-loom in his 
order ; and for his preaching and labours in the south of France 
amongst the Albigenses, he was venerated, even during his life, 
as the apostle of the thirteenth century. With such views and 
qualifications he instituted the monastico-canonical body, which 
the reigning sovereign pontiff designated as the " Sacred 
Order of Brothers Preachers" Sacer Ordo Fratrum Prsedica- 
torum. 

To sustain the character and efficiency of such a society in 
the church, no inconsiderable share of learning and talents was 
requisite in the body and the members. Constitutions, 
luminously impressed with the spirit of the apostolic Dominic, 
were soon framed in the general chapters, for promoting, not 
merely the personal sanctification of the brethren under the 
discipline of cell and choir, but also to foim them as preachers 
for the mission, and teachers for the schools. Individually, they 
were obliged by their rules to study, as well as to pray ; to 
learn or instruct, as well as to fast and meditate. Every convent 
was to contain within its precincts a school, as well as a clois 
ter ; a library, as well as a choir. In fact, the portraiture of 
a primitive Dominican did not fully express the marked pecu- 
larity of his sacred profession, unless scholarship and zeal for 
public instruction were its brightest and most prominent 
features. He should be always prepared to be sent by his 



o Our extracts are taken from "Constitntiones, 4 c. Capitulorum Generalium 
S. Ord. Pradicatorurn Auctora P. F. Vincentio Maria i outauau" Rooa, 
MDCLV. 



100 Ancient Irish Dominican Schools. 

superiors, either to a college or conventual school as a lecturer; 
or to a congregation or mission as a preacher. 

The whole life of a Dominican, from his noviciate to the 
highest ofiices in the government of the institute, was a life of 
study, as well as of prayer, zeal, and mortification." The 
proposed end of all studies was the acquisition of sacred know 
ledge. ^ Other learning was sought and cultivated as subsi 
diary, illustrative, or ornamental of the divine sciences, which 
it was his professional duty to treasure up in his mind. c In ad 
mitting persons to the habit, strict care was taken that they 
should be apt for learning. d During the first probationary year, 
before solemn inauguration in the order, the novices were exer 
cised in the knowledge of such portions of the liturgy as re 
gulated the service of the choir, attendance on the ministers cf 
the altar, the recitation of the divine office, and in the obliga 
tions of the religious state. Daring this period of trial, they 
were, however, allowed to learn languages/ In every convert 
there was a grammar school, preparatory to the higher depart 
ments, in which the liberal arts were taught, and a regular 
master was appointed for the training of the younger brethre i 
in knowledge./ Even out of school they were accustomed t ) 



a "Taliter debont e?.e in studio intcnti, ut de die, de nocte, in domo, i i 
itinere legant aliquid, vol meditentur, et qiiidquid potoiunt retiueie cordeteuts 
nitantur." Di-t. 2. c:ip. 14. text 1. " Priores et Lectoie.>, Fratie que omnes al 
studii proinotiouem incumbcre tenentur. " Puri. ii- A.D. 1270. oid. 10. 

b Nee propter studium artium Fratre.5 a studio Theolo^iac retrahantur. Medic - 
lani, A.D. 1273. ord. 1. 

c Sacrarnm Htteramm stud i urn Religion! noitrco quam maxime congruit-- 
Dist. 2. c.ip. U. iu dcclurat. text 1. 

1st. Because the order professes the contemplative life, and study of sacred 
subjects is nece.-sary to give a proper direction to the contideration of things 
divine and ^iiitunl. 2dly. Because the order i? de-igned ior teaching others th ! 
sacred knowledge its members must have acquired by learr.ing. 3aly. Becaus $ 
such studies restrain the sensual pa.-sioiis. 4thly. Becau.-e sacred studie;j quench 
the lust of richer, ^-c. Melius eot philo^ophaii quum dicaii, Ac. 

d Ordinamus, ut nullu.s ad habitum clei icalem in noctro oruine recipiatur, vei 
ad profe^-ionein admittatur, niri tci:it di.-tincte etclare legeie, bene iutelliga . 
ac cleclaret quae legit et latinam calleat linguam p. 53S. 

e Confirmamns it?m, ut Novitii intra probationis annum non occupentur it 
Studio litterarutn prseter quam linguarum, ted in exercitiia tpiiitualibus devo 
tionis, addiscendis ceremoniis, cantu, Regula, Constitutionibus, 4 - c. (622) Hid. 

f Confinnatuus, quo l in Conventu ubi yunt Juvene?, sit aliqui^ Lector qui eo: 
doceat Qrammaticain, vel artes juxta eorum capacitatem. Ibid. 355. The sever 
liberal arts taught in these schools were divided into trivium and quadrivium 
viz. three of grammar, and four of physics music, dialectics, rhetoric, grammar 
mathematics; a&tronomy and geometry. 



Ancient Irish Dominican Schools. 101 

converse and write in Latin. In Spain, special provisions 
were made for learning the Arabic language. 6 In all the pro 
vinces of the order it was commanded that the Greek and 
Hebrew languages should be taught. Three years were spent 
in philosophy. In some places it was customary that the 
students who had completed their philosophical course, should 
pass three years more in teaching the same branch of study to 
the junior members of the community, before they were ad 
mitted themselves to take their seats in the theological hal}. 
Against the bias of the age for heathen studies which, when 
uncontrolled, sad experience had proved to be most dangerous to 
faith and morals the youth of the order were solemnly warned 
and sedulously guarded ; though under certain restrictions they 
were permitted to read the works of the pagan philosophers. li 
Classes were held every day. Examinations were daily, weekly , 
and yearly. The most distinguished of the students in their 
own cloisters, were selected for a higher order of scholastic- 
exercises in the Houses of GENERAL STUDIES ; but as an indis 
pensable qualification for their admittance into the highest 
gchools of their province, they should have previously spent at 
least an entire year in the study of the Bible, under a professor 
of the sacred Scriptures/ 

" Bjsides the particular school in each convent," as a well informed 



a Ordinamus quod omnes studentes et studii officiates non ni.i Latino Sermons 
loquantur et scribant, etiam extra litteraria exercitia. Ibid. 607. 

b Injungimus Priori Ili^paniae, quod ipse ordinet aliquod stadium ad addis- 
cendam liuguam Arabicarn, 619. 

c Ordinamus, ut po^t sex menses a pnesentium notitia Priores Provinciale? 
singuli in tuid Provinciis teneautur studium linguarum praccertim llebraicie et 
Grsecae instituere, perquirendo doctissimos harum artium prseceptores : quos ei 
in ortline habere uequiverint ex fseculo accercant, di^cipulioque prteficiant, de- 
cerneudo illis annua ttipendia ex commuuibus sumptibua suorum Oonventuuiu. 
De Studentibud Cons. Di=. 2. ch. 14. a. 

d Declaramus quod quamvis liceat frntribus nostris studere scientiis saeculari- 
bus, non tamen diu in illis versari debent, et omne eelatis SUCK tcmpus consumer?, 
eed jjot ius scrpturarum studio, atque eis quibus consulere possunt saluti anima- 
rum, debent se a^sidue ac solicite exercere, a curiositate et inani gloria cavendo, 
atqu3 ex illis non sibi solum, sed etiani aliid ad bene saucteque vivendum docu- 
menta c..pere. Ibid. 

Admonemus etiam ne per speciem bonarum, ut ferunt, humanarum artium et 
excultioris utque ornatioris linguae, libros maxime a Canoue proliibitarf legent, 
ex quibui con uptos mores et dogmata pcrverta facile possuut imbibere. Ibid. 

e Oidinamus quod nullus Frater antequam per unum annum in studio Bibli;x? 
Biblicum audierit, assignetur alicui studio Generali, sive in sua Provincia, give 
extra , quod ei secus actuin Tuerit, sit irritum et inane. Paye 606. In Cap. Gen. 
Neapoli, A.D. 1311. 

14 



102 Jlncient Irish Dominican Schools. 

writer in the British Critic relates, " every province had a general 
school, to which the promising students were sent ; each province albo 
Bent a certain number of its most distinguished members to Paris. 
Certain indulgences were allowed to the students at the discretion of 
the Magister Studentium ; for instance, private colls were assigned to 
those who wished for solitude ; they might, if they pleased, write, read, 
and pray in their cells : they were even allowed liglits to watch there 
by night for the purpose of study." British Critic, " Dante and Phi 
losophy of 13th Century," No. LXV. 

In the beginning of the Institute, there was but one sucli 
conventual collegiate establishment, or House of General 
Studies, as it was called, "Studia Generalia," for the rising- 
talent of the entire order, that of Saint Jacques at Paris, to 
which three students of superior merit and promise might be 
sent from each province. At the General Chapter, held a1 
Paris in 1246, it was proposed, and subsequently ordained, that 
four others of a similar kind should be erected at Bologna , 
Oxford, Cologne, and Montpellier, to which each provincial 
could send two of his subjects. At these great normal schools 
of the Dominicans, literary degrees were taken by the most 
distinguished amongst the professors and students. When this 
number of central establishments for higher studies was found 
insufficient for the crowd of scholars in the order, who were 
qualified by their proficiency and abilities for admission ; it was 
judged necessary to open an establishment, with the same 
advantages and privileges, in each of the provinces into which 
the society of Brothers Preachers had already spread. From 
some cause which we have not examined sufficiently, probably 
from the troubled state of the countries exposed to the incur 
sions of Saracens and Tartars, the provinces of Greece ; of 
Dacia, lying at the east of Europe, south of the Danube ; and 
of the Holy Land, were excepted. Ireland at that early pe 
riod was not a distinct province, but was dependent on England, 
in consequence of which, Oxford was as yet its chief house of 
studies. It might, however, as we shall show more particularly 
send some of its cleverest students to Paris, Cambridge, 
London, &c. 

To enable the reader to form some idea of the manner in 
which studies were conducted in these provincial colleges, it 
may be sufficient to remark, that at the Dominican school cf 



^Ancient Irish Doininican Schools. 103 

Cologne, Albert the Great was Head Master, St. Thomas 
Aquinas Assistant, and such youths as Thomas Joyce a disci 
ples. The teachers and office bearers of all these chief houses 
were, the Regent of Studies in some places he was assisted by 
a Vice Regent the Bachelors, or second lecturers in theology; 
and the master of students, who united the offices of a modern 
Dean with occasional teaching as a professor. It was a rule 
of the order most strictly to be observed, that merit alone, and 
not age or seniority of profession, entitled to those situations. 
It was required that the Master of Studies should have pre 
viously taught theology at least for. six years, the Bachelor ten 
years, and the Regent twelve ; and that each should have 
maintained, at least, five public acts or solemn disputations in 
the schools before the assembled doctors, graduates, and 
scholars. 

The students of the Monastic orders in the middle ages, who 
were sent far from their own conventual homes to the 
universities, were not left without a place of security on their 
arrival in the great cities, as the writer in the British Critic, 
already referred to, judiciously observes. 

" Lest the students ( who were sent to Paris, Oxford, or elsewhere) 
nwght become unsettled, or even fall into vicious excesses by mixing 
with the world, it was provided, that during the time of their studies 
the students were members of the convent in the place where they 
studied : that they might not wander from their own province, after 
three years absence they returned to the convent in which they had 
first taken the vows, if the place to which they had first been sent was 
out of their province. Thus the Dominican student was at home and 
under discipline wherever there was a society belonging to his order; 
but at the same time, his affections were specially concentrated in his 
own province, whither he always returned at a given time, ( ut magis 
studiuin suae provincise vigorari possit. " 

What superior advantages must have been enjoyed by the 
Dominican student in those provincial colleges of his order, the 
halls of which, it must not be forgotten, were thrown open also 
to lay and ecclesiastical scholars, whom the fame of the 



a One of six brothers, all of whom became Dominicans ; they where English 
by birth. Thomas was created Cardinal of St. Sabina. Walter was Confessor of 
Edward the Second, Professor in the public schools ( as we read in the History of 
Oxford) of the Brothers Preachers at Oxford, consecrated Archbishop of Armagh, 
Jtad subsequently he resigned the Primacy of Ireland. 



104 Jlncient Irish Dominican Schools. 

professors attracted in crowds to their lectures ! There the 
whole circle of the sacred and secular sciences was taught, and 
the most eminent doctors were located, and the sharpest young 
intellects exercised in scholastic collision, regulated by laws 
more courteous than those of chivalry. But far beyond these 
mental advantages was the moral discipline which flourished 
in those institutions. The Dominican student at Paris, Oxford, 
or Bologna, found in his collegiate conventual cloisters, a 
sanctuary for his innocence, a home of enjoyment moro pure and 
holy, and no less cheerful in its associations than all the social 
influences which radiate from the domestic hearth. Not so :.n 
those early days of the universities was the condition of the 
secular clerk, whether lay or ecclesiastical. Then there were 
no colleges except those possessed by the regular clergy in their 
convents, which suggested the expediency and the plan of ereo 
ing similar collegiate homes for the secular students. 6 Inns 
and hospices and hostels abounded in all the streets and alley;*, 
where youths of gentle blood and varlets of low degree congre 
gated for brawls and carousals ; and the peace of the community 
was disturbed by frequent day outbreaks and midnight feud* 1 , 
between turbulent academicians and officious bailiffs and sturdy 
burghers ; and serious issues therefrom arose between the au 
thorities of the universities and the magistrates of the cities, 
for violated privileges on the one hand, and municipal order 
broken, and public officers maltreated on the other. 

From the " Houses or General Studies," the students win 
had been honoured with distinctions in their own cloisters, 
passed on to graduate in tiie Universities. The connexion of th j 
Friars Preachers with the most ancient Universities, was coeval 
with the foundation of the Order, and almost as early as tho 
period when these famous schools of Bologna, Paris, and 
Oxford, assumed the name of Universities. 



a On appelle ici Colleges leg Maisons od lea religieux vivaient en comma 
naute, comme les Jacobins (Dominicains), 4 c. Hi^t. Eccles. torn. xii. 169. 

b Les premiers (Colleges) furent ties hospices pour les religieux, qui vecaient 
etudier k 1 Universite, afin qu ih putsent vivre entenable, e^paiec dea teculiers 
Institution au Droit Eccletiattique Page 198. 

c The general Study of Pane, cs the Parisian school was first called, waa 
founded by Charlemagne about the year 800. Under Louie VI. in 1110, the 




Ancient Irish Dominican Schools. 

The favourite conventual home of St. Dominic, in whic 
resided after his various missions and visitations, was at 
Bologna ; it was the centre from which he governed the entire 
order, and sent forth colonies of the brethren to form new 
provinces; and there, to this day, his blessed ashes are enshrined, 
for the veneration of the faithful, under the mingling shadows 
of the university and his own venerable cloister. In Oxford he 
planted the first affiliation of the institute which he sent to our 
northern islands. He personally visited Paris, "to set in order 
a regular house, with cloister, dormitory, refectory, and cells 
for study." It was the University of Paris, conjointly with 
the Dean of St. Quintin, which., in the generosity of its attach 
ment to the young and struggling community, bestowed the 
celebrated convent of St. Jacques on "the Brethren of the Order 
of Preachers, studying the sacred page at Paris," as they were 
styled by Pope Honorius HI. thus testifying its desire of 
early fraternization with a society already beginning to shine 
forth with a singularly intellectual character. 

" The privileges accorded to the Friars of this House of Studies in 
Paris," as we are informed by the writer already quoted, " were much 
more extensive than those possessed by King s College at Cambridge, 
and new College at Oxford, but not in their nature unlike them. 1* 
appears that a memb -r of the convent of St. Jacques, could demand a 
degree without being within the pale of the University, or subject to 
Us laws ; and that they could license two of their own Doctors to lec 
ture without consulting the authorities, though the number of profes 
sors allowed by the University was limited. " 

Fleury, in his fifth discourse on Ecclesiastical History, des 
cribes the manner in which the Friars Preachers graduated in 
the University of Paris ; and from their mode of procedure, in 
taking degrees, infers what the usual practice in all cases oT 
the kind must have been. a 



studies grew very flourishing, and the establishment obtained the name ef 
Academy. In the century following the same institution became so important, 
by embracing within it* circle of teaching all the sciences and arts, that tho 
more pompous and significant title of UNIVERSITY was bestowed upon it. The 
University was a literary incorporation, competed of matters and scholars, and 
waa not originally an aggregate of colleges, which, as we have already shown, 
did not exLt in the beginning, unless in the communities of the regular clergy. 
The University of Oxford, properly so called, is probably of equal antiquity. 

o II est Jt croire que lea freres Precheurssuivirent 1 ordre qu ils avaient trouvc 
etabli dana 1 Universite. Tom. xi. p. 



106 Ancient Irish Dominican Schools. 

The Dominicans were aggregated to the University of Paris 
from the beginning of their institute, and they observed the 
following order in advancing to the degree of Doctors in Theo 
logy. The Friar named for Bachelorship a by the General of 
the Order, commenced by expounding "the Master of the 
Sentences," in the school of some Doctor, for none other than 
a Doctor was authorized in those days to keep a school for the 
higher studies. 

When the Bachelor had spent a year in teaching from " the 
Master of the Sentences," the Prior of the convent and the 
Doctors of the community presented this assistant teacher to the 
Chancellor of the church of Paris, and attested upon oath, that 
they deemed him qualified for his license, or faculty, to open 
a public school on his own account. After certain public exam 
inations, and the observance of prescribed formularies, tie 
Bachelor so recommended was elevated to the higher grade of 
doctorship ; and then, in his own school, passed a second yeir 
of teaching the same scholastic book of divinity. During the 
third year of the process the new Doctor was allowed to have for 
his assistant a Bachelor, whom at the close of the year h.3 
presented, as he had been himself, in conjunction with tlu 
other persons above-named, for the Chancellor s license. Th} 
cforeer was complete at the termination of three years. No ono 
was raised to the rank of " Master of Sacred Theology," o : 
"Doctor of Divinity," who had not thus publicly taught 
So jealous was the order of St. Dominic for its character 
of orthodox teaching and its scholastic reputation, that nc 



a Scholastics were established in the cathedrals so early as the llth century. 
They were often head masters in the Diocesan schools. In the I2th century il 
was regulated that no person should teach without their license. In the sanu 
age academical degrees were introduced for the purpose of thus licensing teach 
ers. The degree of Licentiate was first given at Paris in the twelfth century. In 
conferring this degree a wand or bacilhim was delivered, a school rod, whence the 
name "Baccalaureus or Bachelor." The title was some time after made an in 
ferior and distinct degree. Peter Lombard, Archbishop of Paris, reduced theo 
logy into a science about the middle of the 12th century, and may be called the 
Mrst of the Schoolmen, as St. Bernard has been styled the last of the Fathers. 
Both classes of writers treated of theology, but with this distinction, that the 
latter expatiated on the subject without being restricted to the method or terms 
of any regulated system; whereas the former laid out all the doctrines of reve 
lation on a plan suggested by the philosophy of Aristotle. The standard work 
in the schools, at the time of which we are writing, was the " Four Books of 
Sentence*/ composed methodically by Peter Lombard. 



Ancient Irish Dominican Sckools. 107 

degree, though conferred by an Apostolic Brief, was considered 
valid, unless the aspirant for the university honours had passed 
through the prescribed ordeal of examination, and finished the 
appointed period of professorship in the schools, and been 
presented by the proper authorities/ 

" The effect of this compact and severe system," as an Anglican 
observes, "thus thrown upon the chief universities of Europe was 
electric; it seemed to be the very thing which the church wanted, and 
it so filled up a void felt by the pious students of the time, that num 
bers immediately took the Vows in Dominican convents. Nothing b.tft 
the pure love of God could have actuated them ; in addition to the hard 
life of ascetics, they had to struggle with poverty and with all the dis 
advantages of a newly established order. " 

Such was the system of studies and degrees under which 
arose, not only to competition, but to pre-eminence amongst the 
most illustrious Doctors of the University, many of the devout 
and humble members of the Dominican community of St. Jac 
ques at Paris, such as Albertus Magnus, and Vincent of Beau- 
vais, so remarkable for their knowledge of the exact and phy 
sical sciences ; St. Thomas Aquinas, the angelic doctor, the 
great reformer of Christian philosophy and expounder of theo 
logical science ; Hugh of St. Char, the eminent biblical scholar, 
and first author of the Concordance of the Bible but to mention 
names we should describe the glories of an intellectual galaxy v 
Suffice it to say, that the Dominican Order, though yet a new 
institute, might boast of possessing for its colleges and schools, 
a " cursus completus," in some departments never excelled, 
written exclusively by its own professed members. 

It was in the full vigour and earnestness of its intellectual 
growth and apostolical expansiveness, that the Institute of 
Friars Preachers stretched forth its young giant arms from 
the continent, to embrace our islands within the widening cir 
cuit of its zeal and enlightenment. From the second General 



Declarantes etiam quod illi qui per Bullas ant Brevia apostolica, sine li- 
centia et favore Reverendissimi Magistri vel Capitulorum Generaliuin promoti 
sunt, vel de cactero promovebuntur ad quoscumqne gradus in Theologia, sive Bi- 
blicatus, sive Baccalaureatus sive magidterii, nullis libertatibus, exemptionibu?, 
gratiis, preeminentiis hujusrnodi graduatis ab ordine concessis gaudere possunt 
tedsolumpro simplicibus Conventualibus haberi debent. Mandantes Prsesidentibus 
Conventuum, et omnibus Fratribus Nostri ordinis sub poena Gravioris cw7/?#, TIC 
tales sic per salturn et furtivk graduates pro graduatis habeant, aut eos gra 
duates noininaro praesuinant. Const, apud Font. 290. 



108 ^Ancient Irish Dominican Schools. 

Chapter, held at Bologna in 1221, St. Dominic sent thirteen 
of the Brethren to our northern shores. These men of apost 
olic meekness and humility, travelled in the suite of Peter de 
Rupibus, or Roche, a Bishop of Winchester, on his return from 
the Holy Land. Arriving at Canterbury, they presented them 
selves before the Archbishop, the celebrated Stephen Langton, 
the assertor of Magna Charta, and reformer of education .,n 
the English University. 6 The illustrious Prelate received the 
religious strangers with paternal benignity ; and as their pro 
fession was to announce the Gospel, he commanded the Prior of 
the Pilgrim community, Gilbert deFrcsnoy, to preach forthwith 
in his presence in a church where he himself had promised 1,0 
deliver the sermon on that occasion. The Primate was to 
pleased and edified with the words of light and unction which 
fell from the lips of the zealous missionary, that he ever after 
most graciously cherished the new order, both in its convents 
and on its missions. Thence they proceeded towards London, 
and without much delay, for that city was not marked out {*s 
their first resting-place, they continued their journey towarcs 
Oxford, the place of their destination. It was on the Feast cf 
the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin, the Patroness of tfce 
Order, that "the Friars of the Virgin Mary," as the Domini 
cans were first named, c arrived at this famous seat of learning . 
At once they erected an oratory in honour of the Mother cf 
God, and dedicated their schools under the invocation of S ; . 
Edward the Confessor. Thus the first house of the Domini 
cans in England arose near the walls of its chief university , 
and the learned convent at Oxford became the mother house 
of the English and Irish affiliations ; for the establishments cf 
the Institute in both countries were, for a very long perioc , 
administered by the same central government in England, anl 
were subject to the authority and visitation of the same Pro- 



a " Des Roches." Lingard. 

& It was by his aid principally that Fulk of Neuilly effected the "prelude t> 
that greater reformation, wrought not long after by Reginald and the Domini 
can preachers ; all of them instruments in God s hand to save souls from th > 
perils of study." L/C of Stephen Langton. London, Toovey, 1845. 

c "In principio Fratres ordinis dicebantur Fratres Virginia Marioe." . 
Anton apud Touron Vie de S. Dominique, p. 291. 



Ancient Irish Dominican Schools. 109 

vincial. In England and Ireland, the Brethren of the Order 
bore the same popular designation of " Blackfriars, " from 
the dark flowing cloak they were accustomed to wear on public 
and solemn occasions over their conventual habit of spotless 
white ; while in Scotland, as in France, they were distinguish 
ed from other fraternities by the name of " Jacobins, " be 
cause the first colony planted in Northern Britain, came direct 
from the Convent of St. Jacques, (Conventus S. Jacobi,) in 
Paris. 

Friar Reginald, or Ronald, of Bologna, whom some writers 
suppose to have been an Irishman, is specially named as one 
of the number sent to these countries by St. Dominic. Leaving 
his fellow travellers in England, he passed over to our island. 
He is the reputed founder of the Order in Ireland, was subse 
quently appointed Papal Penitentiary in Rome, and died Arch 
bishop of Armagh and Primate of the Irish church. He must 
have been soon joined by other brethren, for communities were 
formed in Dublin and other places in 1224. The first convent 
of the Order was St. Saviour s, which occupied the present 
site of the Four Courts in Dublin. This house had been a 
monastery of the Cistercian order, and such was the fraternal 
sympathy then existing between the two orders of St. Bernard 
and Dominic who was then dead but three years that the 
monks of the former surrendered as a present to the friars of 
the latter, their own abbey. The institute thus introduced 
into the country, was admirably suited to the character of the 
people, and hailed as likely to confer great blessings on the 
church and nation, in the distracted condition of both. Before 
the end of the century, very many of the great cities and 
towns possessed Dominican convents and schools. The sys 
tem already described as prevailing in the continental houses, 
was extended to nil the establishments in this country, in all 
its fervour, regularity, and strictness ; so that a special account 
of the ascetic life and yet public usefulness of the institute in 
Ireland, would be little more than a repetition of the same 
facts with merely some incidental varieties. The architectural 
beauty and extent of their earliest foundations in this king 
dom, may be conceived from the ruins of these ancient struc- 

15 



110 Ancient Irish Dominican Schools. 

tures yet standing in magnificent desolation, such as the Bell- 
tower of Drogheda, the Black Abbey of Kilkenny, the ruins of 
Kilmallock Friary ; and as to the learning and other high 
endowments which illustrated the Irish communities of the 
order within the first century of his existence amongst our for3- 
fathers, a pretty fair estimate may be drawn from the brilliant 
and numerous array of Dominican Prelates, who were raised 
to the highest ecclesiastical dignities and offices in our nati oral 
church in that limited period ; a number which, instead of di 
minishing, rather increased in succeeding ages. To name only 
the Metropolitans, there were of Armagh, Archbishops, Robert 
Archer, 1237; Henry, 1245 ; Reginald, 1247; Patrick O Scao- 
lan, 1261 ; Raymund, 1286 ; Walter Joyce, 1306; Martin of 
Bologna, 1307 ; Roland Joyce, 1313 : of Dublin, Archbishops, 
John of Derlington, 1279 ; William de Hothun, 1297 : af 
Cashel, David Mac Kelly, one of the venerable fathers of tbte 
first General Council of Lyons. A long list of names equally 
illustrious, linking the Dominican order with the episcopal suc 
cession in various sees of Ireland, may, within the same shcrt 
period, be traced ; and this circumstance is the more singular, 
as the spirit of the institute was adverse in those days to su)h 
promotions, and vehemently protested against them as injurious 
to the best interests of the society, and seldom was known to 
yield to the imposition of such honours, unless when overruled 
by the authority of the Holy See. It might be difficult to 
account for such a number of emii-aut meu in an order just 
emerging from its first difficulties, if we did not know that, as 
on the continent, so here in like manner, ecclesiastics of rank 
and merit took the habit and mingled with the novices of tie 
order. It was thus that the last-named prelate, Archbishop 
Mac Kelly, had been Dean of Cashel Lahore he took his solemn 
vows as a Friar Preacher in " St. Mary s of the Island," at 
Cork. 

The cultivation of learning which so strikingly marked th 
character of the order in foreign countries, ever since its institu 
tion, soon illustrated it also in our own island. A connecti)lip 
was maintained from the beginning between the Irish brandb 
of the Dominicans, and the English and continental university 



/Indent Irish Dominican Schools. Ill 

houses of general studies. In the year IS 14, the head 
superior of the order, Berangerius de Landorra, addressed a 
letter from the General Chapter held in London, to the priors, 
sub-priors, and brethren in Ireland, granting them, with the 
approval of the Deffinitory, that they might keep at free charge 
two stule.itsof the Irish province at Oxford, two at Cambridge, 
a third in addition to the two already maintained at Paris, two 
at London, and as many others as they might be entitled (se- 
cunduin ratam terrae vestrse) to send to the houses of general 
studies in various parts of the world. The general recom 
mended at the same time, that pome students specially qualified 
for philosophical pursuits, should be sent to the particular 
houses appointed in England for that department of science. 
By this intercourse the Irish Dominicans were enabled to enjoy, 
from the earliest settlement of the order in this country, the 
most choice and ample opportunities of mental culture afforded 
in the middle ages. 

By the reflux of such talent to our shores, bringing back tho 
purest and most profound learning of the age, it is easy to 
comprehend how the intellectual character of the entire country 
must have been influenced and elevated. The friars, who had 
graduated on the continent and in England, opened schools in 
Yarious parts of this kingdom. Their houses of studies must 
have been in a very flourishing state in Dublin, previously to 
the erection of the first Irish university. In the document pu 
blished by Archbishop de Bicknore, on the 10th of February, 
1320, for the establishment and administration of the new 
university, the schools then in actual operation under the con 
duct of the Dominicans and Franciscans, were specially noticed, 
as having been recognized as canonical, " Scholas Fratrum 
Praelicatorum ac Minorum duximus canonizandas." 

The Dominicans of Ireland became at once connected with 
the learned body of the university. No sooner were its doors 
thrown open, than the Friars Preachers entered with others to 
claim a share in the freshest honours of the first Irish academy. 
Four on that solemn occasion were admitted to the degree of 
electorship three in theology, and one in canon law : viz., 
William B,oddiart, the dean of the cathedral, who was appointed 



112 JLncient Irish Dominican Schools. 

chancellor of the university ; Henry Cogry, a Franciscan ; and 
two Dominicans, namely, Edward of Caermarthen, who 
subsequently was consecrated Bishop of Ardf ert, and William 
de Hardite. De Harditc was, in precedence of time, the first 
honoured with the Doctor s degree ; a distinction conferred, 
no doubt, for some acknowledged superiority. However indiffe 
rent the circumstance may now appear, it was thought to be sin 
incident so memorable, that it has been handed down in various 
records of the time. Thomas Carve, in his Irish annals, 
informs us, that he was not only the first Master and Doctor of 

the Irish university " Universitas Dubliniensis ciijiis 

primus Magister seu Doctor fuit Gulielmus Hardite ordinis 
Prsedicatorum" but also that he promoted a great number of 
others Doctors in Divinity "qui sub prsedicto Archiepiscopo 
pluriinos Doctores Sacrae TheologisB creavit." (page 205. V 
We shall be pardoned for lingering with complacency on this 
apparently trivial event. We wish that "our own" youcg 
Ireland, brought up as it ought to be in a healthy state of Ct - 
tholicity, intelligence, and patriotism, should, in the presei t 
revival of literary national recollections, be reminded that tie 
primacy of collegiate honours in this country was conferred c n 
the shorn head of a member of a religious order, which, per 
haps, is now foredoomed to suppression that the first chair c-f 
the sacred sciences erected in an Irish university, was occupier! 
by a Dominican Friar and that from a priest of the order c f* 
Preachers, the highest graduates who have been ever since ad 
mitted to their degrees in this kingdom, must trace their aca 
demical descent. 

As long as the university which was annexed to St. Patrick s 
cathedral was properly supported, the different orders of the 
regular clergy participated in its honours and privileges, and 
contributed to its efficiency and reputation. It has just been 
observed that the Dominican and Franciscan orders hadrc* 
preservatives amongst its first professors; and as we proceed ia 
our historical outline, we may be permitted incidentally to 



a Annals of Ireland, in 4th volume of Camdon, p. 488. 

Annals of J. Grace, translated for Irish Archeeo logical Society. By Rer. I 
Butler, p. 96. 



r > 

r o 

Vt / I . ; y J 
Ancient Irish Dominican Schools. 

mention, that in the year 1364, a chair of theology was endowed 
for a member of the Augustiniau order, also in the college of 
the cathedral, by the Lord Lieutenant of L eland, Lionel Duke 
of Clarence, who gave for that purpose an acre of land at 
Stachallane, and the advowson of the church charged with an 
annual stipend of ten marks for the lecturer. From the 
inadequacy of its funds for the maintenance of masters and 
scholars, the university declined gradually, until, in progress 
of time, it became almost practically extinct. This failure in 
the working of the only incorporated literary institution in the 
country, must have been a heavy discouragement to the aspiring 
youth who would crowd its halls. Such was the state of 
collegiate learning in the metropolis, when the devoted and 
disinterested zeal of the Dominican fathers for the advance 
ment and support of public education, was exerted to meet the 
critical emergency, and, as far as it might be, to supply from 
the resources at their own command \ the means of academical 
improvement. They erected a college for instruction in all 
branches of knowledge, from grammar to theology, and 
admitted to its advantages all classes of students, lay and 
ecclesiastical. This institution is described in the historical 
note annexed to Mr. Wyse s Speech on Academical Education. 

U A. D. 1423. As a preparatory academy, or high school to the 
University, or to meet the scantiness of the education there afforded, 
the Dominicans of Dublin opened a f Gymnasium, as it is called by 
the chronicler of the order, on Usher s Island, which was then a popu 
lous suburb of old Dublin. It was dedicated under the patronage of 
St. Thomas Aquinas, the angelic Doctor of their schools. To this 
seat of learning, youth crowded for instruction.* The full attendance 
of masters and scholars was not unfrequently interrupted. The Liffey 
divided the convent of the Dominicans from their seminary. Thn 
former occupied the present site of the Four Courts ; the House of 
Studies was on the opposite side of the river. When swollen by floods, 
the river was impassable. There was no bridge. That which had 
been built at a remote period, had fallen forty-three years before. The 
professors and students of the convent, and the secular youth who 
lived in the neighbourhood of Ormond Quay, (Juvenes Ostmanorum 
burgi), (Oxmantovfn), were thus often prevented from attending the 
schools. Vv T ith the perseverance and munificence characteristic of tho 
ancient regular orders, the community of St. Saviour s, as the Domi 
nican Friary was called^ at their own expense and that of the benefac- 



o Quo confluebant JUT8U93 pro philosophicis et theologicia disciplinis. 
i)om. 193. 



114 Ancient Irish Dominican Schools. 

tors of their house,* 1 erected the stone bridge of four arches, which WHS 
called l Old Bridge, 5 or* Dublin Bridge, 5 and was the only stiucture 
of the kind in the Metropolis for more than two centuries. It is an 
interesting fact in the history of education in Ireland, that the only 
stone bridge in the capital of the kingdom was built by one of the 
monastic orders, as a communication between a convict and its 
college, a thoroughfare thrown across a dangerous river for teachers 
and scholars to frequent halls of learning, where the whole range of 
the sciences of the day was taught gratuitously.^ On it btood a Font 
for Holy Water, long undisturbed by the spirit of later times. 4 - Ths 
bridge fell in the floods of 1802." 

Unsatisfied with their exertions and sacrifices in the cause oil 
education, while anything remained to be done that might be 
effected by energy, the regulars of Dublin aimed at the accom 
plishment of a nobler project than they had yet collectively, or 
in separate communities, undertaken. These professors oj* 
monastic vows the adoption or observance of which is, in the 
evil days on which we are fallen, proscribed under penalty of 
fine and banishment displayed in the year 1475 an act of 
glorious audacity in the application they presented to the Holy 
Sec for powers to erect a university; that of St. Patrick s hav 
ing been allowed by this time to fall into inefficiency and decay. 
From the same source which supplied our last extract, we derivt 
the following interesting information : 

" Third Period, A. D. 1475. In this year a fresh and vigourous 
effort was made for the restoration of the University, or rather for the 
foundation of a similar institution, unconnected with that of St. Pa 
trick s cathedral. This movement originated with the four mendicant 
orders, nnd was headed bv the Dominicans. d Thoy addressed a memo 
rial to Pope; Six us IV. fo>- the canonical authority to found such an 
establishm >nt in Dublin. In this p tition th.y set forth, that no house 
of General Studies was th^n flourishing in the kingdom of Ireland, 
(nullutn viget Studium G morale), where degrees might be taken or 
studies prosecuted, though the youth of the country were most anxioui 
for learning, and Professors qualified to teach th-ology and the arts 
abounded in the four orders j that they were obliged to cross the sea 

a Sumptibus Fratrum Pr#<licr,torum Suorumqne Berefactorum Hid. uteupra. 

b Wnl h ;uid WhitelawV Hi tory of Dublin. 

c Puerque vidi va.< pro nqua lustrali. De Burgo, p. 195. 

d Dominicans. Franciscans, Angustinians and Carmelites. 

" Licet in Civitatibus et Villia murig munitis, in dicta Irsula consistenti- 
bus, quae Guerris pen-sepe niBi^uiitur, Multitudo praefatorwm Quatuor oruinum 
prof esso rum propter eorum exemplarem vitam, et Veibi Dei piadicationein ad- 
raittantur. tain en ^cholares et .- tudere volent.es, de facile in illi^ non recipiuntur ; 
quod qne in dicta insula r^perinntur quamplures dictoiura ordinum Professores 
Magi-tii et Bacc 1 UIPI in Theologia et Artibus exifficienter int-trncti. et quam- 
plured fcchf)lares ad bujusmodi ^ciintias bene di>poHiti, qui in ei^ proficore cupiunt, 
et quorum ingpnia de die in diem decre^cere et torpere cernuntur, in maximum 
reipublicte Christiana et Fidpi Catholicao detrimentum, eo quod eia tutua noi 
patet accedsua ad aliquod studium geaorale," 4 0. |-. 



vincient Irish Dominican Schools. 115 

with great risk of life, many of their brethren having suffered ship 
wreck and to encounter expenses which they were not able to meet ID 
foreign univjrsities ; and that, moreover, in foreign univeisities they 
had to endure a cold reception, and to combat national antipathies*. 
* In Universit.itibus alionis frigescente caritate multorum, et pullu- 
lante dircurdia nationum. 

" Th Pop 3 assented to this prayer, and published a Brief, bearing 
date 5 Kal Mali, 1475, empowering the memorialists to erect a Univer 
sity for thj cultivation of ihj liberal arts and theology, ( studium ge- 
nerale artium et th^ologiae), with all rights and privileges appertaining 
thereto, similar to those enjoyed by Oxford. 

"History does not inform us, whether special buildings were erected 
for the purpose of carrying out the powers giv n to the religious 
orders by this pontifical diploma. It is most probable, that as the first 
University was located in Si. Patrick s cathed al, to the new institu 
tion was formed in connexion with the convents of the four orders, the 
halls of each being raised to the rank of a College of the University. 

The statement put forward by the historical annotator, in the 
concluding passage of this extract, is reserved and cautious, a8 
it should be, in the absence of documentary evidence respecting 
the manner in which the regular clergy, when authorized to 
establish a university in the Irish metropolis, accomplished their 
enlightened project. That the attempt was an instant and utter 
failure, we cannot, upon any presumptive ground, be persuaded 
to admit. It appears to us most improbable that, having 
obtained from the Holy See the boon which they so anxiously 
aought, prospective of so much honour to themselves, and 
auspicious of so much advantage to men of learning and 
studious youth in general, the religious orders should fling such 
a prerogative incontinently to the winds. Such inconstancy of 
mind, such recklessness about their own privileges, such 
indifference to the public good, were never the temper, or the 
practice characteristic of monastical corporations. If the 
undertaking proved abortive, not from any lack of zeal or 
disinterestedness on the x>art of the regular communities, but 
from crushing opposition, or irresistible obstacles encountered 
at the onset, is it not strange that no record to which we can 
have access in the archives of the four orders, bears any trace 
of such a struggle? Our deliberate opinion is, that the 
University, privilege 1 by SixtusIV., started noiselessly and in 
the fulness of its stature into life and activity, as soon as the 
bull for its institution was accepted in this country; and that, 
from its birth, it silently waxed strong, and flourished in con- 



11G indent Irish Dominican Schools. 

ucxion with the monasteries until their suppression; and in tLis 
opinion we are confirmed by a passage in Campion s History of 
Ireland, which we shall have occasion immediately to cite. a 

Dr. Todd. of Trinity College, thinks otherwise. b He treats 
the whole affair, discourteously enough, as " a vox and pn?- 
terea nihil " of a papal bull. But what are the grounds on 
which he thus lightly discards the supposition that the university 
of Pope Sixtus ever obtained "a local habitation or a name?" 
Forsooth, he says, because first, " His bull provided it with 
no endowment;" and secondly, because "no buildings were 
ever erected." But he forgets to inquire whether the memo 
rialists applied to his holiness for funds to raise a grand struc 
ture, or to enrich learned chairs; and, in the next place, whether 
special buildings, or additional fixed revenues, were indispen 
sably requisite for the opening and maintenance of the Uni 
versity under consideration. We opine not, on both queries. 

It was not for leave or means to build up from the ground a 
material university with stone and timber, brick and mortar 
that the good men who originated this movement applied tc 
the sovereign pontiff, but for powers to institute a literary body, 1 
a university incorporate for all faculties and studies in their 
own country, wherein, for the causes recited in their petition, 
they might be enabled "to graduate at home as licentiates, 
bachelors, and doctors, with all and each of the privileges, 
immunities, graces, favours, exemptions, and concessions, in 
general and in particular, as granted to the rector, masters, 
doctors, scholars, and persons of the University of Oxford." 
We .cannot see either, that there was an absolute necessity 
for the construction of such buildings in the present case. Why 
might not the senatus academicus solemnly hold its commence - 



a Pago 40. 

b Remarks on some statements attributed toT. Wyse, Eq. M. P. in his speech 
in Parliament on Academical Education in Ireland, July 19, 1 844, by Jam e 
Hcnthorn Todd, D. D., V. P.R.I. A., Fellow of Trinity College, Dublin. 

c Taking up the first book at hand on the subject, Institution au Droit Eccle- 
siastique, torn. 1. p. 195. (Fleury), we find that Universities are defined to be Com 
panies of Masters and Scholars. This body was not at first an aggregate of col 
leges, but was composed of masters who were scattered and gave their lessons in 
particular places. They were not lodged in collegiate houses until towards the 
middle of the 15th century, when instruction was transferred to theae establish 
ment?. 



JJncient Irish Dominican Schools. 117 

ments and terms ? Why might not the students pursue then- 
ordinary courses within the spacious halls, which were the 
ancient schools of the conventual establishments of Dublin, at 
least pro tempore, until, if found expedient and attainable, 
more appropriate and concentrated structures should be raised ? 
Was there a single stone laid for the University of St. Patrick ? 
Were not all the universities, at home and abroad, originally 
schools enclosed within the precincts of churches ? Why might 
not, in like manner, the new university have been aggregated 
to the religious houses ? Is there anything impossible, un 
usual, or absurd, in the assumption that such was the fact? 

But the pope promised no income? Assuredly not : his 
holiness was not asked to tax the apostolic treasury, or to 
commission the mendicant friars to quest or levy an impost on 
their friends and benefactors for the purpose of creating rich 
fellowships, paying stipendiary professors, and furnishing 
chambers and commons to poor scholars. Then, argues Dr. 
Todd, how could the studies of such a university be provided 
for ? We will tell him. There was a time when pious and 
learned priests were honoured in college, church, and cloister, 
for their strict observance of the vow of evangelical poverty 
men truly independent "titulo paupertatis" men who were 
doctors, bachelors, and licentiates, though in cowls and sca 
pulars, with leathern girdles aud discalceated feet, and who, 
without fee or reward, could have filled the professorial chairs 
with as much unaffected dignity and sterling talent who 
could have conducted their scholars through the college course 
with as consummate skill and complete success and who, en 
trusted with the powers of the university, could as discreetly and 
legitimately confer degrees and honours, as any board of pro 
vosts, fellows, masters, &c., established in the modern seats of 
learning, upon which church and state have lavished with 
emulous profusion the wealth and patronage of this world. In 
the four religious orders as then existing in Ireland, the 
memorial addressed to Sixtus the Fourth, states that such 
professors were numerous. These men loved learning for learn 
ing s sake, and because they loved it, were zealous for its diffu 
sion. They were not influenced by base lucre, as modern, 

16 



118 Ancient Irish Dominican Schools. 

professors of science, of whom Sir H. Davy speaks. u There 
are," says the philosopher, "very few persons in England who 
pursue science with true dignity , it is followed, as connected 
with objects of profit." Consolations in Travel, 1830. 

Though unendowed with vested property, nevertheless the 
safety and permanence of this academical institution were 
sufficiently secured by its connection with the religious housea. 
With them it was, thenceforward, to stand or fall. And amidr>t 
tho turbulence of lawless times, what shelter more sacred and 
shaded than the cloisters within which this literary establish 
ment was planted ? What preservative more certain agaiiwt 
the poverty with which the university of 1320 was so often 
shaken to its roots, shorn of 1 its honours, and was then actually 
withering away, branch and stem, than the stability of the 
monastic state upon which the university of 1475 was engral- 
ted and intended to be supported ? 

The suppression and plunder of these convents in the suc 
ceeding century, we hold to have been tantamount to the dis- 
franchisement and spoliation of the second Irish University. 
So identified was academical education in those days with th< 
monastic system both were felled together by the same sacri 
legious and tyrannical violence both were stript together b? 
the same act of unmerited confiscation. When will the da;i 
of retribution come ? We ask not for restitution of property 
but of rights freedom of religion and education upon whicl 
we boldly insist. 

It is not to be supposed that the older university had beei 
utterly extinct, before the regular clergy so energetically exertec 
themselves for the restoration of studies, by the establishmen \ 
of a similar and independent institution. ID certainly may be 
said, that it languidly existed, so reduced had it become in re 
putation and usefulness under the pressure of poverty. Tt 
this cause alone Sir James Ware ascribes its insensible decay 
" The maintenance of tho scholars failing, the university like 
wise by degrees came to codling "* He acknowledges, how 
ever, that u there remained indeed some footsteps of an aca- 

Antiquities of Ireland, chap. xv. p. 38 



Ancient Irish Dominican Schools. 

demy in the time of Henry VII. For in the provincial council 
held in. Christ Church, in Dublin, before Walter Fitzsimons< 
then Archbishop of Dublin, the archbishop, suffragans, and 
the clergy of the province of Dublin granted certain stipendg 
to be pay d yearly to the readers 1 of the UNIVERSITY." This 
timely and generous effort for the -vevival of studies, and the 
renovation of the university in St. Patrick s, occurred in 1496, 
twenty- one years after the first appearance of its younger and 
more vigorous competitor within the monastic cloisters. Could 
the success of the latter have excited and encouraged her elder 
lister to make this last recorded appeal, for her restoration to 
the almost forfeited honours and the almost forgotten preemi 
nence to which she was entitled over all other schools in the 
metropolis and in the kingdom ? That the venerable Irish 
university of the cathedral never lost its privileges, we have 
undoubted proof that, in the hour of its need, its wants were 
largely supplied by the conventual schools and that when 
these were closed under Henry VIH. that languished and died 
we have the testimony of a* Protestant historian who lived in 
Dublin, and was deeply interested in the cause of academical 
education, as is evident from his report of the speeches deli- 
Tered at the meeting for the erection of a university before 
Trinity College was founded. Campion, in his " Historic of 
Ireland," says, * Neither was the same, (to wit the Univer- 
itie ordained in Develin by Alexander Biginore, archbishop) 
ever disfranchised, but onely through variety of time discon 
tinued, and now since the subversion of monasteries utterly 
txtinct, wherein the divines were cherished, and OPEN 
EXERCISE MAINTAINED," p. 123. The reader will judge for 
himself whether Dr. Todd is warranted in winding up his ar 
gument against Mr. Wyse in the following sweeping statement 
in a tone rather oracular: " It is unnecessary to pursue any 



a Lecturers. 

& Campion was not at this time a convart to the Catholic faith. (A.D. 1570.) 
c Whereof comming home to my lodging I took.? notes, and here I will de- 
liYer them; as neere a^ I can call them to minde, in the same words and sentence* 
that I heard them." We refer the reader to the perusal of them, as mo*t inte 
resting and instructive on the subject of founding colleges, particularly th 
pech of Jamw Stanihurst, an esquire of worship, Recorder of Develin. p. 194, 



120 Ancient Irish Dominican Schools. 

further the history of those transactions, since it must be now 
sufficiently obvious that the whole story of an endowed univer 
sity or any university at all, endowed or not endowed 
which was confiscated and destroyed at the suppression of 
monasteries is an absolute fiction : and consequently, that 
the argument, if it be an argument which Mr. Wyse would 
found upon such a misrepresentation, must fall to the ground. 5 
To make out his case, Dr. Todd lays great stress on the words 
in the memorial to Sixtus IV. " Quod in dicta insula nullum 
viget studium generate." We have as good a right to under 
line viget which proves our view that the university was not 
then in ^flourishing condition though existing. 

The older university was kept up until the suppression c f 
the cathedral under Henry the Eighth. In the chain of histo 
rical testimony by which we have been endeavouring to trace 
down to the time of the introduction of Protestantism into 
Ireland, the continuous existence of university education in the 
cathedral, correlatively with general studies in the religious 
houses, we may bring forward as a terminating and important 
link, the provision in the charter of Philip and Mary for th? 
restoration of St. Patrick s church, eight years after its inter 
dict by the royal usurper of ecclesiastical jurisdiction ; wherei:i 
it is specially recited that amongst the most lamentable conse 
quences of the dissolution of the collegiate and cathedral 
church, was the closing up of its halls of learning for youth 
"verumetiam quod dolendum magis est, pueritiam solitam 
cducationem non habuisse," and that one of the principa 
motives by which their majesties were influenced in the re- 
establishment of the cathedral, was to revive its collegiate cha 
racter, by the re- opening of its schools, in which the youth o: 
Ireland might be trained in moral conduct and the arts anc 
refinements of social life. " Ut hujus regni nostri Hibernia 
pueritia in morum civilitate et virtute erudiatur." 

From what has been said, we may collect that there were 
two universities in Ireland, that of the cathedral, and the othei 
of the monasteries. Even so late as 1584, seven years before 
the foundation oi Trinity College, there appears to have been 
*n impression yet lingering in the public mind, that ther<j 



Ancient Irish Dominican Schools. 121 

ought to be erected two universities in Ireland a notion ori 
ginating, most probably, in the popular recollection and belief, 
that before the confiscation of church property and the sup 
pression of monastic institutions, there had been two inde 
pendent academies in the capital of the kingdom. In the letter 
of the Lord Deputy, Sir John Perrot, to the Lord Treasurer 
of England, on the disposable property of St. Patrick s, and 
the public purposes to which its revenues might be applied, it 
is stated, that its yearly income amounted to about four 
thousand marks ; and " this sum," he writes " would serve to 
begin the foundation of two universities, and endow a couple 
of colleges in them with 1000 per annum apiece." 

If the more ancient university had not flourished uniformly 
in every stage of its progress up to the time of the establish- 
ment of Trinity College, it was owing mainly to the pressure 
of the poverty which checked its expansion from the beginning, 
as has been already stated on the authority of Sir James Ware> 
;uid not from any lack of zeal or disinterestedness on the part of 
the clergy, secular or regular, for upholding the dignity and 
usefulness of the national institution. In its struggles from its 
infancy to its decrepitude and final decay, the helping hand of 
royal bounty was not extended to it with the promptitude and 
munificence to which it was justly entitled. It strikes us, also, 
iS rather strange, that history records no very energetic measure 
proposed, no large sum contributed for the maintenance of the- 
Irish university by any of the intervening bishops of Dublin, 
between the founder and Fitzsimons. Might such indifference 
be traced to the fact that the prelates who occupied the 
metropolitan see during that long period were, almost without 
exception, Englishmen by birth and education ; each having 
but a life interest in his see ; each proud of his own alma mater, 
Oxford or Cambridge ; having perhaps little sympathy with the 
native clergy, regular or secular, for the establishment or 
endowment of a National Irish university, which under proper 
encouragement might develop Irish talent and become a rival 
to the English seats of learning ? 

When it became the policy of the foreign rulers to 
Protestantize Catholic Ireland, then grudging parsimony, cold 



122 Ancient Irish Dominican Schools. 

neglect, and national antipathies were laid aside. The royal 
and Anglican-church solicitude for extending all the lights,, 
honours, and emoluments of the highest university education 
to the hitherto unendowed mind of Ireland, became marvel 
lously anxious and liberal. A new spirit sat in the high 
places, and it held out the glory of learning and the gifts of 
the state, as temptations that might allure the youug aspirkg 
intellect of this country to fall down and adore, after a modern 
fashion unknown in the Island of Saints. To buttress up the 
tottering universities of Ireland, or rather to build up from hi 
foundation a new national academy, the queen bestowed upon 
it great wealth, (no matter now how that wealth had leea 
got,) and built it colleges like palaces, and encircled it amidst 
spacious fields, and planted it round with pleasant gardens. 
"But at last," says Sir James Ware, after relating the with 
ering parsimony of former times, "Queen Elizabeth restor d 
the honour of the university, and built the colledge dedicated 
to the Blessed Trinity, and indowed it with revenues and 
priviledges," xv. p. 38. The spot on which the truly magnifi 
cent structure arose was once holy, lifting up its proud pin 
nacles over the ruins of the monastery of All Hallowes. Upon 
that place, in the chanted offices of night and day, the protec 
tion of all the saints of God s church used, before the hand o.: 
sacrilegious spoliations was stretched forth upon it, to b<; 
devoutly invoked. In all this there was something mournful!} 
ominous of the change that had taken place. The new college 
and doctrine were based on the subversion of Catholic princi 
ples and institutions. . What a large measure of the evils 
religious, moral, intellectual, and social which have Lefalleu 
our afflicted country for the last two centuries and a half, still 
lies accumulated as yet an unexpiated SIL at the gates of 
Trinity College, Dublin ! It is not easy to think of the lega 
lized ignorance to which the mind of Ireland had Leen con 
signed for so long a period without calling up the apparition 
of the grim spectre of Old Trinity. How can wf- read, with 
out shuddering, the dread records of soul-murder \vorse even 
than death or exile and all the laws prescriptive of education, 
which the fell demon of apostacy inscribed in dark characters 



indent Irish Dominican Schools. 12o 

on the portals of that royal citadel of bigotry and oxclusive- 
ness? Was it not on that threshold of high-church Protestan 
tism, that hecatombs of the children of saints were sacrified to 
the Moloch of an overshadowing pitiless sectarian ascendancy ? 

Amidst the political and religious troubles which succeeded 
the expulsion and outlawry of the parochial clergy and monastic 
orders, we can catch, but at intervals, and from scattered spots. 
the fitful glimmerings of the torch of Catholic science, nofr 
escaping through chinks of caverned rocks and other hiding 
places, where aged priests and friars, unable or unwilling to 
flee, lingered about to teach the poor persecuted children of the 
land ; and at another time gleaming dimly, like expiring 
beacon-lights on the creeks of the sea- coast, when learning, 
banished from all its accustomed haunts, was forced to take ite 
mournful departure from the shores, on which, in days of old, 
it had welcomed the strangers who had come in quest of know 
ledge, from every clime, to the schools of Lismore, Armagh, 
Cleonard, Ross, Clonfert, and Bangor. Now the Irishman 
is to be the exile and wanderer, in quest of learning denied 
him at home, and every Christian land, save that which wag 
nearest, returns the rights of hospitality ; and every university, 
college, school, and convent abroad, emulously contending for 
the honour of enrolling the poor homeless Irish student amongst 
its doctors, scholars, or brethren, throws open wide its gates, 
and compels him with generous violence to enter, and thnrw 
aside his pilgrim s staff, and rest his weary feet, and abide in 
peace, as in more ancient times, strangers were wont to find a. 
home in the schools and cloisters of his fatherland. Spain. 
France, Italy, Portugal, Belgium may it never be forgotten 
how each of your people succoured Irish genius in the hour of 
its need, and sheltered it when harbourless, and slaked its thirst 
for knowledge at the fountains of living waters, and broke to 
it the bread of every science. 

We would on the present occasion follow the fortunes, so 
replete with mournful interest, of our exiled countrymen, who 
matriculated in foreign literary establishments ; but the space 
we have already occupied reminds us, that we must close our 
lucubrations at the most dismal period of our educational history 



124 Ancient Irish Dominican Schools* 

in Ireland, when the persecuting legislation of its English Mis 
tress sealed uj) the doors of every college, convent, and school, 
in which a Catholic might instruct his mind without sacrificing 
his conscience. Our narrative has already extended beyond 
the bounds prescribed, and we cannot but regret that it has 
dragged its slow length alone with, perhaps, an unavoidable 
wearisomeness of detail, and has been marked by a dry and 
methodical style of composition, so much less attractive than 
tie matchless simplicity of the monastic legend, or the discur 
sive and salie.it literature that should characterise an Irish 
periodical. Bat our subject lay more with the schoolmen, 
than with ancient chroniclers or modern reviewers. Our object 
in pursuing the line of inquiry now brought to a close, was t> 
convict of ignorance or misrepresentation, the outcry so often 
heard within parliament, and repeated in a multitudinous 
variety of ways abroad, in print and speech, during the debate * 
on the Maynooth, Academic, Trinity College, and Catholio 
Disabilities bills ; that the Catholic Church, in all the grades 
of its priesthood, from the highest pontiff to the lowest levite . 
has been at all times unfavourable to the culture and spread OJ 
gospel knowledge and scientific acquirements. To overwhela 
such dark prejudices and calumnies with utter discomfiture, bj 
opening up the whole historical subject of Catholic university, 
collegiate, and academical education, such a guide should go 
.before our readers, as the author of the Mores Catholici, hold 
ing a lan.p filled with the purest and most fragrant oil which 
may be extracted from every branch and fruit and tiower of 
the tree of knowledge, and trimmed by the genius of every art 
and science and language. Then, indeed, would historic truth 
be unveiled in all its lustre and beauty ; then would the temple 
of learning, reared by Catholic hands, be lighted up in all its 
glorious splendours, and shown in all its sacred harmonies of 
symmetry and strength and taste ; and every shrine would be 
illumined, which has entombed for ages the honoured and blessed 
memories of hooded scholars ; and every mural tablet of stone 
or brass, would be made legible with its mystic inscription, and 
made fresh with its emblems of the schools intertwined with 
monastic symbols; and all the rows of nichea solemnly shadowing 



Ancient Irish Dominican Schools. 125 

the statues and images of bishops, chancellors, clerks, monks, 
civilians, who were once the most celebrated doctors, or the 
most munificent founders, patrons, and benefactors of colleges 
and halls still called after Catholic saints, would be revealed 
and shine out amidst the rich and varied erudition with which 
the multifarious reading of Kenelm Digby colours and illustrates 
every subject upon which his mind is poured out, like tinted 
glories streaming up through an ancient minster. As for our 
part, we must content with carrying our small taper into one 
nook, as it were, of such a spacious topic as is the connection 
of the regular clergy with the rise and advancement and 
reformation of the higher departments of studies. From one 
isolated spot, but sufficiently luminous and prominent in the 
history of the literary world, we have endeavoured to dissipate 
some dark and malignant prejudices, which gathered most 
densely upon that particular quarter. The Dominican Monk, 
or the Black-Friar was as popularly imagined and fictitiously 
drawn a horrid spectre which could scarcely be supposed to 
dwell or be at rest amidst a blaze of intellectual illumination. 
Yet so it was the Dominican whether doctor of the university, 
student of the college, preacher of the temple, missionary of 
the world, artist of the studio, rapt with ecstasy as a saint, or 
with visions of transcendent loveliness as a poet, or with ins- 
pired dreams as a prophet his ordinary home and choicest 
repose were to abide and rejoice in the encircling and spreading 
light of all sciences divine and human. This is not the too 
vivid colouring of an admiring partiality it is the truth re 
flected upon our convictions from the many illuminated pages 
which we have read, concerning the objects, laws, pursuits, 
services, of a society, which in all the writings of the learned, 
is usually called "the illustrious order of St. Dominic." 
Had we put forward in front of our argument in defence of the 
eontriuiuions rendered to literature by the religious orders, the 
EeneJicdines, for instance, already so honoured, even by in 
fidel writers, such as Gibbon, for their immense accumulation 
of learning, the most recondite and extensive ; or had we given 
the prominence so deservedly due to their company to the 
Jesuits, whose superiority in every compartment of elegant and 

17 



126 Oliver Cromwell. 

instructive knowledge, and inappreciable services in the con 
duct and improvement of school education, their bitterest ene 
mies durst not gainsay; we would be only reproducing evi 
dence already known to the public, often through the pages of 
this Review ; but to drag forth from the obscurity in which it 
has been shrouded by circumstances, of which none has been 
so influential as its own constant and avowed dislike to thu 
blowing of the unevangelical trump of self-laudation, an Ins 
titute little known to literary fame in these heretical countries, 
and in these modern times ; such testimony, however scantilv 
we may have supplied it, and feebly put it forth, is, notwith 
standing, novel, and may not be without its special weight and 
impressiveness in the mass of evidence that has been already 
collected, and so variously exhibited in proof of the service* 
and zeal of the monastic bodies generally, in promoting tbi 
cause of mental cultivation and progress. 



OLIVER CROMWELL. a 

( From the Rambler. ) 

PURITANISM is that form of religious delusion which clothee 
the spiritual pride of its intentions in the most grotesque 
assumption of scriptural phraseology. It makes hideous faces 
at the world, the flesh, and the devil, remaining all the while 
by no means on bad terms with any one of them; but it stipu- 
lates with all three that its ordinary language must always seem 
to be that of vernacular inspiration. Its visage is long, and 
its looks are sour. By its ordinary admirers little is seen but 
the whites of its eyes ; nor would common spectators imagine, 
if history had not spoken, that those hands, folded so meeklj 
on its bosom, could wield the sword of the soldier or the 
sceptre of sovereignty. Owen, Baxter, Howe, Flavel, and 



History of the English Commonwealth, from the Execution of Charles I. to 
the Death of Cromwell. By M. Quisot. Translated by Andrew M. Scoble. I* 

two volumes. Beat ley, London. 



Oliver Cromwell. 127 

Manton, were its pundits and prophets, so far as pen and paper, 
prayer, doctrine, and preaching, were concerned ; yet to have 
a living personification before us of what the system really 
was, of what it professed to do, and what it actually perpe 
trated, it will be necessary to study with closeness and care the 
subject of these pages. Oliver Cromwell may teach us many 
lessons. His lot was cast in extraordinary times. An eccle 
siastical revolt from the Holy See, such as the world had never 
witnessed since the days of Arius and his imitators, had 
convulsed Europe and desolated the Church. On the continent 
the tide of error had begun to retire ; in England it was 
otherwise. Her crown had pushed aside the tiara ; whereby 
Erastianism, selfishness, and absolute power had triumphed. 
The people had lost the liberties upon which they once lived 
and revelled, as derived traditionally from their Saxon fore 
fathers. Henry VHI. had trampled them under his feet with 
the same ruthlessness which he manifested in the decapitation 
of his wives : nor were the Stuarts better than the Tudors ; 
except that their follies and absurdities might be considered 
less formidable than the occasional abilities of their prede 
cessors. 

Elizabeth was still on the throne when Oliver Cromwell was 
born at Huntingdon, in a large Gothic house, to which the 
brewery of his father was attached, on the 25th of April, in 
A.D. 1599. Robert Cromwell, a gentleman of good lineage 
but narrow fortune, had purchased the property of one Philip 
Clamp, whose fermentation of malt and hops had established 
a creditable business on the premises, far too profitable an 
affair to be sneezed at by the new-comer, although his wife, a 
sensible lady, originally named Steward, the widow of William 
Lynne, and rejoicing in a jointure of 60/. per annum, claimed 
her descent from the royal family of Scotland. This highly 
respectable couple had three sons, of whom Oliver was the 
second, and the only survivor growing up to manhood. There 
were also six daughters, who lived to be well married ; besides 
another, carried to her grave in early life. The mother could 
have been no ordinary woman, as was shown by her entire 
conduct through life, manifesting as it did a combination of 



128 Oliver Cromwell. 

simple tastes with great energy of mind. A portrait of her 
may still be seen at Hinchinbrook, with a small and sweet 
mouth, betokening not less firmness than gentleness of character; 
the light pretty hair over her forehead is modestly enveloped in 
a white satin hood; she wears a velvet cardinal, with a rich jewel 
clasping it. Her brother-in-law, Sir Oliver Cromwell, stood 
godfather to the future Protector, on the fourth day after his 
birth ; holding the child at the baptismal font, and giving him 
his own name. Alison has not failed to remark, thatNapoleo:i 
was brought into the world upon a sofa covered with tapestry 
representing the Iliad of Homer : about as sagacious a non- 
juror, who subsequently bought and inhabited the house of th3 
Cromwells at Huntingdon, used to point out a curious figure of 
the devil wrought in the hangings of the bed-chamber in which 
the conqueror of Dunbar and Worcester first gladdened the 
hearts of his parents. They had soon some trouble with him. 
Without noticing the legends of his being carried oft by :i 
monkey, and saved from drowning by the worthy curate of Cun- 
nington, it is certain that his early tastes were for the excite 
ments attending personal peril, and that his temper wus way 
ward and violent. He was eighth or ninth cousin once remove i 
on the maternal side to his rival Charles L; and when only five 
years old is said to have had the honour of being aplaymat? 
with that prince, and in some boyish quarrel inflicting on him 
a bloody nose. There was a royal palace in the neighbourhood , 
to which, no doubt, on one of the progresses of the court, Sir 
Oliver Cromwell had taken his nephew in right of the distant 
relationship. What King James said to this premature on 
slaught on a son of the Lord s anointed we are riot informed ; 
but Forster observes, as well as Guizot, that for an instait 
" the curtain of the future was uplifted here." 

Robert Cromwell transferred his hopeful progeny to the caie 
of one Doctor Beard, who kept the free grammar-school of the 
town, and flogged his pupils after the most approved fashion cf 
Solomon and Dr. Busby. But Oliver had the loosest riotiors 
of what constituted the rights of property with regard to fru.t 
and poultry, pippins arid pigeons. The fear of the rod never 
restrained him from any nocturnal raid upon the dovecots and 



Oliver Cromwell. 129 

orchards of his neighbours. He came to be called the " apple- 
dragon" of the district, in which he was devoted to practical 
jokes and unseemly frolics. His inclinations at this period pre 
sent a singular contrast of what may be described as nastiness 
mingled with the sublime. Puritanism must have relished and 
fostered the strange combination; so that we may smile at, ra 
ther than admire, the magniloquence of Milton, when, in apolo 
gising for the coarseness of his patron, he assures us that the 
genius of such a hero was as much above refinement as it was 
superior to ordinances; " that it did not become a right hand to 
be wrapped in down amongst the nocturnal birds of Athens, by 
which thunderbolts were to be hurled thereafter at the eagles 
which emulate the sun. That there were extraordinary mo 
vements and presentiments in his mind during the hey-day of 
youth may be well imagined. He had laid himself down on one 
occasion to sleep, when the curtains of his bed were withdrawn 
by a gigantic female figure, which, gazing at him silently for 
a while, informed him that before his death he should be the 
greatest man in England. He remembered, when he told the 
story, that the apparition made no mention of the word king. 
His father seems to have received so marvellous a narration 
very much as Jacob the patriarch listened to the visions of his 
son Joseph ; with remonstrance at least, as well as interest, 
since he wrote to the pedagogue, requesting that this ambi 
tious and dreaming scholar might be soundly whipped for his 
presumption, which was done accordingly. Flagellation only 
strengthened his impressions ; for he carried them to his uncle, 
Sir Thomas Steward. The latter, however, merely repaid his 
confidence with loyal and suitable assertions that " it was 
traitorous to entertain such thoughts." 

Erom the hands of Dr. Beard, Oliver Cromwell passed at 
seventeen to the University of Cambridge, where he was en 
tered at Sidney- Sussex College as a fellow- commoner. He 
had picked up a respectable stock of Latin, yet preferred his 
sports to his books. But in June, A.D. 1617, his father died. 
His good mother found herself still obliged to carry on the 
brewery, in an age, happily for her business, guiltless of tho 
follies of teetotalism. Her son, instead of helping to work the 



130 Oliver Cromwell. 

domestic oar, betook himself to the easier task of assisting to 
sink the family. Abhorring the protracted sermons and dismal 
practices of the godly people at Huntingdon, he degenerated 
into a rake of the first water. Few roysterers were a match for 
him at the boisterous game of quarter-siaff. The tinker, or 
the pedlar, or the cow-doctor of the parish, had an equal wel 
come to a black eye or a broken skull, whichever the young 
spark might happen to inflict, and afterwards heal with deep 
potations of the maternal ale. What could the poor widow 
do, in the loneliness of her heart, and with her six young and 
comely daughters, but apply to those apostles of hypocrisy, 
who boldly shook the pulpits of their conventicles and the 
purses of their disciples with weekly hurricanes of faith with 
out works, and the impossibility of falling away from grace? 
They conselled her to transfer the gay prodigal to London, 
where he might enter at an inn of court, and apply himself to 
the study of the law. The fact probably was, that his de 
baucheries, both as to wine and women, had gone to such a 
height at Huntingdon, that the credit of the brewery was at 
stake, to say nothing of the glimmering hope that a change of 
scene might break off certain inconvenient and dissolute con 
nections, which, so long as they lasted, rendered even external 
reformation altogether out of the question. 

If the Puritans ever slept at all over money-matters, it was 
with one eye open. Oliver had not mended his manners or 
morals in the metropolis, as a nominal student in Lincoln s 
Inn, where, the remainder of his patrimony having been wasted, 
he attempted to raise further ways and means by drawing 
upon the indulgent liberality of his uncle Steward. With his 
godfather at Hinchinbrook he had long quarrelled ; but Sir 
Thomas Steward appears for a time to have bled more freely ; 
at length, however, even this eccentric worthy buttoned up 
his pockets, and would yield no more. The nephew there 
upon immediately applied for a commission of lunacy against 
his relative and benefactor, whose habits were rather peculiar, 
although by no means such as to warrant the ground taken up 
by his ungrateful and ungracious favourite, that he was in 
capable of managing his own affairs. King Charles refused 



Oliver Cromwell. 131 

the application, and is admitted by the admirers of Cromwell 
to have acted justly in so doing. Soon after reaching his 
majority, Oliver married an admirable wife in the person of 
Elizabeth, daughter or Sir James Bourchier, of Halsted in 
Essex, a kinswoman of the Hampdens. With such plain good 
sense as to be perfectly contented with an humble station, she 
had spirit and dignity sufficient for the loftiest, Her felicitous 
influence assuaged the passions of her husband, lifted him 
up out of the mire of his profligate courses, and reconciled 
him to his family; his house became notorious as a refuge for 
persecuted Nonconformists and their pastors. Here he prac 
tised his first lessons in yoking fanaticism and hypocrisy to the 
fiery chariot of ambition. Every religious grievance was 
listened to and brooded over, until it was hatched into some 
magic talisman for influencing the minds of men. Discourses 
on knotty texts of Scripture protracted to almost interminable 
dimensions; details of spiritual experiences, seasoned with such 
unction and fervour as Bunyan might have conceived or Quarle 
envied, alternated with the agitations of confession, effusions 
of tears, and the more substantial relief of hot suppers, 
sack-possets, and warm nightcaps. The home of the future 
hero was heated into a religious furnace, in which was forged 
many a weapon of genius and puritanical power, before which, 
in after times, his enemies fled from the field of conflict, and his 
friends bowed down their faces to the ground in respectful or 
reluctant homage. There was even then no resisting the prowess 
With which the apparently repentant profligate wrestled in 
prayer, or unveiled in the mystic pages of prophecy an apoca 
lypse of the New Jerusalem. His eyes were perfect sponges, 
fountains of pious waters flowing at command, edifying beyond 
expression the ministers, women, and servants kneeling in ama 
zement around, and weeping themselves into correspondent 
floods either in their sincerity or through mere force of sym 
pathy. Such enthusiasm, in ascending to higher and still 
higher degrees of heat, no doubt produced some temporary state 
of external purity and improvement. The clouds of smoke 
generated and developed occasional flames. We find more 
than one instance of full and fair compensation being rendered 



132 Oliver Cromwell, 

by Cromwell to the uttermost of his means for gambling debts; 
with respect to which his conscience smote him, as he said, 
for having had recourse to unfair play. His acute under 
standing quickly discovered the. hollowness and tyranny D 
national episcopacy, revelling as it then did in the plenitude 
of its pretensions. His fellow-townsmen began to discuss bis 
abilities, -whilst they admired or patronised his beer. They 
drank his health in every pothouse, canted over his last exposi 
tion, and at length ripened into realisation an offer which 
they had volunteered of returning him as their representative 
at the next election. The attempt was first made in A. D. 162,5, 
and failed ; but three years later the star of the brewery cul 
minated, and Oliver Cromwell took his seat at Westminster, 
in the third Parliament of the unfortunate Charles, as membor 
for the borough of Huntingdon. A family of children had 
now begun to gather around him. 

Such were some of the circumstances under which he emerged 
from private into public life. His gait was clownish, his drees 
ill- cut and slovenly, his manners harsh and abrupt, his features 
such as people look at with dislike, but from theconteinphtioa 
of which it seems impossible to turn away. The author of 
HuJibras says, that one might have thought "he had bee i 
christened in a lime-pit and tanned alive!" Yet his very warts 
and wrinkles told, mingled as they were with firm-set Lps, ;i 
fair large front, shaggy eyebrows, a threatening forehead, and 
a conspicuous ruddy nose. This last lineament of his fac$ 
afforded immense fun to the wits and cavaliers of his day, who 
were divided into comparing it With a blazing beacon or :i 
burning coaL Whenever he gazed at any one thoroughly, th; 
object of: his attention was not merely looked at through and 
through, but weighed, measured; analis ed, classified, and neve: 
forgotten. His relation Hampden soon introduced him to Si: 
John Eliot, Sir Robert Philips, Colonel Hutehlnson, Pym, am 
Vane. Thev were all men of an iron stamp and strength 
patriots in the popular sense of patriotism, banded together ii 
heart and will for the abolition of secular aouses, full of sus 
picions as to the crown and constitution, and compounded oi 
the narrowest and basest prejudices as to religion. The last, 



Oliver Cromwell. 183 

perhaps, was not altogether their own fault. The system of 
which they were the spawn was in itself neither more nor less 
than a spiritual rebellion ; the crisis at hand was only about 
to demonstrate that society must have solid foundations to rest 
upon, or else it only sinks from one depth of degradation to 
another, until, in a bottomless chaos, it resolves into its ori 
ginal elements ; and that the basis of the material fabric is in 
reality a living religious principle of: obedience to a religious 
authority. The grand impertinence which just at that parti 
cular moment roused up and mustered together these master 
spirits of the age, happened to be the presumption of English 
prelacy. Cromwell and his contemporaries looked upon it 
with the earnestness manifested by one set of mountebanks 
wat-hing the impostures of another, and availing themselves 
of the popular gale against their adversaries. There was an 
obscure preacher named Mainwaring, protected by the bishops, 
who had preached up the depreciation of parliaments ; for which 
the Commons impeached and punished him. Of course the 
ultimate results were a royal pardon and an Anglican mitre. 
Siu-h martyrs would be sure to spring up like mushrooms, 
until the king and his establishment had come to form a more 
correct idea of the enemy with whom they had to deal. Puri 
tanism then raised the howl of "No Popery;" a cry which 
has always succeeded in England and Scotland, from the reign 
of Elizabeth to that of Victoria. Mainwaring had not us yet 
reaped the wages of his servility, when the harsh and broken 
but piercing tones of the mem.cr for Huntingdon electrified 
the House. It was the maiden efibrt of a voice which knew 
exactly what note to sound. He accused one Dr. Alabaster 
of promulgating tin do3trine3 of ths 11 >m*n harlot in a ser 
mon at St. Paul s Cross, by the express orders of the prelate 
of Winchester. Furthermore, the same spiritual peer had just 
presented Mainwaring to a rich living ; so that the road to pre 
ferments, as the orator instructed his hearers, was to turn the 
realm into a land of Papists and slaves. Immense was the 
sensation produced. Pym registered thereupon his famous v(ttV 
in heaven agninst the Church or L;uid, Williams, and Andrewes; 
of which he and his adherents thought as Sydney Smith did of 

18 




134 Oliver Cromwell. 

Puseyism, that it was " all illusion, delusion, and collusion." 
A dissolution speedily followed ; and Sir Oliver Cromwell took 
measures, in his hall at Hinchinbook, effectually to prevent any 
future return of his nephew for the borough, which in his opi 
nion, as a Royalist and Episcopalian, had been so scandalously 
misrepresented. He was appointed indeed a justice of the 
peace for the town, on the score of his formidable popularity; 
but within three years he sold part of his property in the 
neighbourhood, and removed to a small farm at St. Ives, which 
he stocked and cultivated. The sum he raised by the sale 
amounted to about 1800/. 

Fanaticism was here also his familiar spirit. The few ve< - 
tiges of Catholicity still permitted to adorn our rural district 
were to him fantastic sources of scandal and secret agonj ; 
even the beautiful symbol of redemption, erected by tie 
loving faith of antiquity in the market-place at Huntingdon -, 
had thrown him into " the strangest phantasies!" On hs 
farm and in the neighbourhood he sowed those seeds of doc 
trine and discipline which subsequently grew up into his in 
vincible regiments of Ironsides. The greater portion of every 
day fomented the spiritual inflammation of red-hot devotion; 1 
exercises. We may understand the curious recollection of the 
clerk of his parish, who used to remember that Farmer Crom 
well came to church " with a piece of red flannel round hi-* 
neck, since he was liable to soreness in the throat;" possibly 
from its natural wryness of direction, as well as the torrents 
of puritanical lava of which it was the source and issue. 

Meanwhile his agricultural prosperity languished. In hi* 
particular case prayer and preaching failed to speed the plough; 
when, in A.D. 1636, he inherited at last the long- conveted pro 
perty of his much- aggrieved maternal uncle Sir Thomas Stew 
ard. It consisted chiefly of some tithe-leases held under th> 
dean and chapter of Ely Cathedral; to the glebe-house of which, 
near the churchyard of St. Mary, he lost no time in removing 
with his family. Golden opinions were earned by him here aM 
elsewhere, from the rising sectaries. The grand struggle drew 
on between prerogative and constitutional right ; the Higl: 
Commission and Star- Chamber were slitting the noses anc 



Oliver Cromwell. 135 

cropping the ears of the Bastwicks, Burtons, and Leightons, 
besides enabling the Crown to enact the part of Rob Roy with 
regard to the liberties, lands, and moneys of the lieges. The 
interval between the last and the Long Parliament gathered 
together the materials whose explosion overturned the throne, 
prostrated the aristocracy, and convulsed the three kingdoms 
for half a century. It is not true that Cromwell, with Hamp- 
den and others, contemplated an emigration to the colonies. 
On the contrary, the future Protector was watching every sign 
of the times, and bathing his soul in the Stygian lake of his 
own gloomy and bitter enthusiasm. He foresaw the tempest 
when it was no bigger than the fingers of a human hand. 
His prescience anticipated that some genins might be found 
capable of riding upon the storm ; while a mysterious gleam of 
idea every now and then flashed through the darkness, that 
possibly he might be that man. This seems evident from 
what has since transpired of his correspondence, conversations, 
and contemplations. The affair of the Bedford Level brought 
him out at once as a champion for the people against the 
king. He came to be worshipped by the commonalty through 
out the counties of Cambridge, Huntingdon, Northampton, 
and Lincoln, under the title of " the Lord of the Fens. " No 
sooner had Strafford fallen before his foes, than even Hamp- 
den predicted the probable greatness of his kinsman. He di 
rected with invisible, yet not less certain guidance, that series 
of marvellous measures and events which are to be found in 
all our histories ; nor will it be necessary that we should touch 
upon the parliamentarian war, which was the subject of a pre 
vious work by M. Guizot, and therefore is not included in the 
publication now on our table. , Suffice it to remind our readers, 
that his management of what was termed the self-denying or 
dinance, the lustre of the military achievements, which blazed 
throughout the country down to the decisive battle of Marston 
Moor, his still greater victory at Naseby, the masterly skill 
with which he had formed an army bound up in the promotion 
of his own personal advancement, the genius with which ho 
cajoled the parliament, and erected his party of Independency 
upon the ruins of Presbyterianism, the audacity with which he 



186 Oliver Cromwell. 

contrived the total suppression of royalism and the execution 
of Ciiarles L, altogether led to the establishment of the 
commonwealth, with its sovereign power intrusted to himself: 
ultimately under tho modest title of its Protector. ) 

Tiie newly-created commonwealth for a time grumbled and 
blundered on; working the will of the enchanter its master, 
whose potent spell had called it out of anarchy into a:i 
ophemerai existence for his own purposes. This legion of 
Puritans had to serve a tyrant after all, as they discovered to 
their cost. Their internal anxieties alrfady tormented then 
far more than their enemies. could have done. Conquerors a.* 
they were, they always found a far greater mind in the midst 
of their own circle, overshadowing or eclipsing their fume, 
appropriating at every crisis the whole amount of credit ami 
renown that might seem to be gained in getting the state ou. 
of its difficulties, and .rendering them in return for their hard 
and abominable labours only smooth professions and scant} 
wages. Scotland and Ireland both remained also convulsec 
or discontented ; though under peculiar and different circum 
stances, such as made utterly nugatory the respective disposi 
tions of a party in each of them favourable to the pretensions 
of Charles II. 

Not that the Royalists in rither of these kingdoms could 
have reasonably expected any other result than that which 
really followed. In Ireland, Lord Ormonde had proclaimed 
the young Stuart with the best formalities in his power. 
Cromwell was offered the supreme military and civil command 
against him, as he expected would be the case ; yet before he 
accepted it, profound was the dissimulation practised both by 
himself and his nominal employers. ^Puritanism could never 
move in direst and honest line, even to accomplish any object 
nearest and dearest to iis own hollow heart. I lAt this distance 
of tima it is impossible to view without loathing and horror 
the falsehood and fanaticism with which the new lord- lieute 
nant prepared for his crusade.^ In the first place, two officers 
fro-n eajh corps wore to meet him at Whitehall, that they 
m .gat seek to know the will of Almighty God in prayer for 
for;.ii^li:. II J then consented to u submit his shoulders to 



Oliver Cromwell. 137 

the burden," with professions of preparatory fastings, wrest 
lings of spirit with the King of Saints, and unutterable travail 
of soul. He then secured 12,000 cavalry and infantry 
selected from his own veterans, plentiful supplies of provision 
and ammunition, and 100,000/. in ready money for the public- 
service. For himself, he stipulated that there should be 
allotted him 3000/. for an outfit, 10/. sterling per diein as 
general whilst remaining in England, and 2000/. per quarter 
in Ireland, besides his pay in his new function. His body 
guard was to consist of fourscore young men of quality, se 
veral of them holding commissions as majors and colonels. 
His appointments invested him with dictatorial authority ; and 
his state-carriage was drawn by six Flemish mares of whitish- 
grey. On the morning of his march he expounded the Scrip 
tures, with a couple of other generals, " excellently well and 
pertinently to the occasion ;" whilst three ministers invoked 
a blessing on hij banners, proceeding as they were " to fight 
the battle of Heaven against the blinded Roman Catholics." 
And truly if ever hell could boast of a human champion, 
Oliver Cromwell enjoyed and exercisejl that dreadful honour. 
He reached Dublin on the Assumption, A.D. 1659. Three- 
fourths of the island appeared to have been brought under the 
sway of the Marquis of Ormonde, in the name of Charles II. 
With lips pouring forth a torrent of texts perverted from holy* 
writ, and waving in his grasp " the sword of the Lord and 
Gideon," the hero of Protestantism and Independency set forth 
to shea blood like water, and extirpate, should it be possible, 
the persecuted Church of Christ. At Drogheda, after the 
entrenchments had been carried by storm, and quarter offered 
and accepted, the pledge given was violated as soon as resis 
tance ceased. An indiscriminate massacre ensued ; for Cve 
days the streets ran with gore ; an impious fury stimulated 
the passions of the soldiers. From the garrison they turned 
their weapons against the inhabitants, of whom above a 
thousand were immolated within the walls of the great church, 
to which they had fled for protection. Two thousand had 
been already slaughtered in the assault ; for, as Cromwell him 
self wrote to the President of the Council and the Speaker 



138 Oliver Cromwell. 

of the House of Commons : " I forbade our men to spare any 
that were in arms in the town ; and the next day, ivhen they 
had submitted, their officers were knocked on the head, every 
tenth man of the soldiers killed, and the rest shipped for Bar- 
badoes. / believe all their friars were knocked on the 
head promiscuously. I am persuaded that this is a 
righteous judgment of God upon these barbarous wret 
ches ! " Such are the tender mercies of expounders of the 
Apocalypse. 

The Puritans, flushed with slaughter, pushed on to Wex- 
ford. Its unfortunate citizens fared no better than those of 
Drogheda, where the aged, the sick, the infirm, together with 
women and children, had been sacrificed in cold blood. No 
distinction was drawn between the defenceless burgher and 
the active warior ; nor could the shrieks and prayers of three 
hundred perfectly helpless females, congregated for refuge 
round the market-cross, preserve them from the death they 
dreaded. Cromwell, in fact, abhorred crosses. They then, 
as now, were believed to be the marks ef the Beast ; nor 
were the followers of the Protector in the seventeenth wiser 
than the audiences of Exeter Hall in the nineteenth century. 
Five thousand innocent individuals perished in the two sieges. 
Oliver wiped his weapon with the coolest internal satisfaction 
They were all Papists and idolaters, and he thought it, to use 
his own words, " a marvellous great mercy! " 

Cork, Ross, Youghal, and Kilkenny, submitted without 
resistance ; but Callan, Gowran, and Clonmell, made bold 
and glorious defences. Waterford manifested such vigor that 
Cromwell was baffled in his advances. Every cruelty, the 
more fearful ones not excepted, sullied the puritanical suc 
cesses. A bishop was hanged in his episcopal robes before 
the walls of a fortress, subsequently to its surrender upon 
articles. In another case, and with similar disregard for the 
laws and customs of war, after troops had capitulated all their 
officers were brutally murdered, evidently on the ground of 
their being Catholics. " These last," as Guizot observes, 
" were always pompously excepted from his promises of Chris 
tian toleration ; " whilst, strange to say, this ingenious Pro- 



Oliver Cromwell. 139 

testant historian describes him as " not bloodthirsty, but only 
determined to succeed rapidly, and at any cost, from the ne 
cessities of his fortune." We will extract a brief passage to 
illustrate the indulgent touch of an artist in softening down 
the characteristics of a conqueror, when his admirer cannot 
forbear fancying them a little too red and sanguinary : 

" His great and true means of success did not consist in his massa 
cres, but in his genius, and in the exalted idea which the people had 
already conceived of him. Sometimes by instinct, sometimes from re 
flection, he conducted himself in Ireland towards both his friends and 
enemies with an ability as pliant as it was profound ; for he excelled 
in the art of treating with men, and of persuading, or seducing, or 
appeasing, those who even naturally regarded him with the greatest 
distrust and aversion. At the same time that he gave up to murder 
and pillage the towns which fell into his hands, he maintained in other 
respects the severest discipline in his army." 

The italics are ours, and are of course intended to imply 
our cordial condemnation of that inconvenient delicacy, which 
seems to have restrained so able and amiable a writer as the 
author of these volumes from denouncing the savage monster 
who could preach, and weep, and whine, and pray over the 
pages of the New Testament, whilst bigotry and ambition 
swept on their remorseless way, beneath his stern command, 
over the mangled corpses of infancy and innocency, or youth 
and old age. By an arrangement with France and Spain he 
got rid of 45,000 Irish soldiers, who consented to take service 
under those powers and relieve his own cause of just so many 
opponents. 

Scarcely, however, was Ireland conquered, or rather crushed 
by Cromwell, when the affairs of Scotland summoned him to 
another field of action. The wild expedition of Montrose 
terminated in the defeat, arrest, condemnation, and cruel ex 
ecution of that magnanimous chieftain. But Charles Stuart 
had arranged matters with the commissioners at Breda, and 
landed on the Scotch coast in May 1650. Oliver Cromwell, 
quietly superseding the over- scrupulous Fairfax, who had been 
nominated his colleague, proceeded agaist this fresh enemy 
at the head of about 15,000 men. Crossing the border, he 
addressed two proclamations, one to the inhabitants of the 
kingdom generally, and the other " to all that might be saints 



140 Oliver Cromwell. 

and partakers of the faith of God s elect." He kept near the 
sea-coast, that he might the more easily feed his troops, and 
obtain from time to time the necessary supplies from England. 
His antagonists withdrew every where beiore him, to avoid a 
collision if possible, and starve him out. The Presbytarian 
Royalists, nearly double his own numbers, hadLesiey for their 
general. This offijer never dared to advance until the English 
had fallen back upon Dunbar, when at length he octupk-u the 
pass of Cockburnspath, cutting them oft , as it would seem, 
from any return home by land to their own country, Never 
was invader surrounded with more imminent peril. 

Thus far Cromwell had gained nothing by his long inarch 
but disappointment, mortification, and short commons. ID was 
now the 2d of September, and a most rainy season ; Lesley hs,d 
hemmed him in between the hills and the sea ; >\hen, partly 
provoked by the reproaches of some fanatical ministers, and 
partly piqued by the remarks of a " stout prisoner whom ha 
skirmishers had captured, and who had but a wooden arm, * 
and partly compelled by his real want of forage and water, he 
formed the fatal resolution of " having the Englith army deai 
or alive, by seven o clock on the morrow." That army wishei 
for nothing better, and spent the eitire night in noiseless pre 
paration for combat. On the od of September, after hour 3 
of wild storm and darkness, a thick fog at daybreak postponed 
the attack, although only for an interval. As it cleared away, 
volleys of musketry awoke ten thousand echoes, with booming; 
artillery* roaring on both sides; for the fight was loud ant 
long, amidst cries of " the Lord of Hosts" from the English 
and fct the Covenant," " the solemn League and Covenant, 3 
from ihe Scotch. Cromwell reserved the onset of his invin 
cible Ironsides until the propitious moment when the mists 
dispersed, permitting the full beams of sunshine suddenly to 
illuminate the scene from the heights to the otean. lk No~w 
let God arise," said he, and " His enemies shall be scattered ; 
for they that hate Him shall flee before Him." ILs well- 
known voice sounlod through the ranks like a trumpet. Each 
battalion caught up his solemn and sonorous words ; for en 
thusiasm is as contagious as discouragement. " Indeed," ol> 



Oliver Cromwell. 141 

*erves one of his contemporaries, " he was a strong man i* 
the dark perils of war ; and in the high places of the field 
hope shone in him like a pillar of fire when it had gone out 
in all the others." Once and again Oliver and the English 
charged with redoubled vigour ; the Scottish cavalry at length 
gave way ; and even a body of infantry, which had remained 
unmoved, like a rock, was at last broken through, and scattered 
by the assailing squadrons. " After the first repulses," wrote 
the triumphant victor, 4t they were made by the Lord of Host* 
as stubble to our swords." The struggle was over before nine. 
Three thousand enemies had been slain. More than 10,000 
prisoners were taken, with all their cannon, baggnge, and 200 
standards. Leith, Edinburgh (except its castle), and the adja 
cent country, submitted at once. Charles II. withdrew north 
wards to Perth ; not over-sorry that some of his subjects had 
received so severe a lesson. Until now he had been treated as 
a mere puppet, with an allowance of 9jOl/. per month for his 
civil list. Lesley, with the wreck of his late gallant array, 
went westward to Stirling. Scotland had nevertheless to bend 
her neck to the yoke of Cromwell and the Commonwealth, very 
much as L-eland had done. The coronation of the king at Scone 
produced only a slight effect upon the course of events ; not 
withstanding the sudden illness of the English lord-general, 
and various plots against republicanism, which Lroke out some 
what later. Charles, however, soon took the command of hia 
army in person, and then indeed there came a change over the 
spirit of the drama. 

Oliver had recovered, and laid siege to Perth ; upon which 
the hunted Stuart resolved to give his adversary the slip, and 
invade England. On the last day of July 1651, he was on the 
road to Carlisle, backed by forces estimated at 11 ,000 to 14,000 
soldiers. London quaked with terror on receiving the intelli 
gence ; while Vane, Scott, Robinson, and Henry Marty n set 
their shoulders to the wheel of preparation. Cromwell wasted 
no time either ; for he overtook the royalists at Worcester, 
within four weeks after they had started from Stirling. His 
own followers, with the militia collected for him by his active 
adherents, amounted to 24,000 infantry and 10,000 cavalry. 

19 



142 Oliver Cromwell* 

He encamped on the left bank of the Severn on his arrival ; 
and that same afternoon pushed a portion of his lines across 
the river, that he might attack the city on either side. The 
anniversary of his victory at Dunbar was close at hand : accord 
ingly, on Sept. 3d, his favourite and fortunate day, as he ever 
afterwards called it, the western suburbs of Worcester wero 
assailed by Lambert and Fleetwood : the lord-general himself 
directed the principal attack against the city, at the eastern 
extremity; while Charles was on the tower of the cathedral, 
surrounded with his staff, all looking about them. Thunders 
of artillery, as the clock struck one, announced that the re 
publicans were battering the approaches. Windows rattled, 
houses fell, or were riddled as the iron shot went through 
them. The king mounted his horse, rushed to the defence, 
and manifested among his generals no lack of personal courage. 
But Cromwell had surrounded him, like a lion in a lair. Th* 
battle lasted for five hours. Charles, with his body-guards, 
fell so vigourously upon the republican militia^men, that the 
latter recoiled, until Oliver rallied them ; showing that, with 
ordinary firmness on their part, the laurels of victory must be 
won. The Royalists, on the other hand, got discouraged ; the/ 
were outnumbered ; their ammunition began to fail ; their 
officers were too numerous, and with no master-mind to com 
bine or concentrate their efforts. Lesley, with 3,000 cavalry, 
remained motionless at the critical moment ; and the brave 
Cavaliers shouted in agony " for one hour of Montrose ! " It 
was in vain. The heads of Cromwell s columns had now fought 
their way into one street after another in almost every quarter. 
44 Shoot me dead," exclaimed the defeatjd monarch, 44 rather 
than let me live to see the sad consequences of this fatal day !" 
When his valiant friends formed themselves into a compact 
body, in order to cover his retreat, he s.t length left the city 
by St. Martin s Gate, and took the northern road. Falling 
in with some Presbyterian cavalry, who were flying without 
having fought, considering, as they evidently did, how sore 5 
temptation of Providence it must be to abide the brunt of 
danger, he would fain for a moment have led them back again 
into pretended action. " Bat no," he said to himself ; " men 



Oliver Cromwell. 143 

who deserted me when they were in good order, would never 
stand by me now they are beaten." Common sense had not 
as yet quite deserted him the romance of the Boscobel Papers 
had to be acted out ; and Charles II. was reserved for the 
Restoration. 

Meanwhile, Cromwell was enjoying his crowning victory. 
Three kingdoms seemed to be in the act of falling down to 
worship the idol which their own follies, in conjunction with 
his then unparalleled genius, had thus wonderfully setup. The 
palace of Hampton Court was assigned him for a residence, 
with a landed estate of 4000/. a year. Fanatic as he was, he 
never intended to serve God, even in his own way, for any 
thing short of solid pudding as well as empty praise. Both 
were now overwhelming him upon rather a sublime scale. As 
to his gaping supporters, he must have often recalled the pro 
verb, Decipiantur qui volunt deeipi. It was therefore that 
he had canted so intolerably amidst the splendours of his mili 
tary career. From Ireland he had writen to one of his corre 
spondents in the full glow of conquest : " The Lord is won 
derful in these things it is His hand alone that does them. 
Oh, that all the praise might be ascribed to Him ! I have 
been crazy in my health ; but the Lord is pleased to sustain 
ine. I beg your prayers ; I desire you to call upon my son 
to mind the things of God more and more. Jllas ! what 
profit is there in the things of this world? except they be 
enjoyed in Christ, they arc snares!" When the Speaker 
and House of Commons, with the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, 
met his triumphal entry into London, amidst the firing of the 
troops, salvoes of cannon, and the acclamations of the people, 
he acted his humility to a turn ; although Hugh Peters, with a 
few others, understood him thoroughly, and even whispered to 
each other : " This man will be King of England yet ! " His 
lieutenants, Ireton and Monk, had perfectly carried out hia 
intentions, and completed the subjugation of Ireland and Scot 
land. The fleet and troops of the Parliament had regained 
possession of the Channel and Scilly Islands, Soclor and Man, 
Barbadoes, and the various colonial dependencies. The throne, 
or what was equivalent to it, loomed out in the perspective 



144 Oliver Cromwell. 

distinctly before the writer of such sentiments as these : "Lord, 
deliver me from this very vain world*! Oh, how good it is to 
close with Christ betimes : there is nothing else worth the look 
ing after. Great place and business have come upon me, * 
very poor worm and weak servant ! " After the battle of 
Dunbar, his pious inspirations were as follow : "We lay fear 
fully near the enemy, and therefore there came over us a weak 
ness of the flesh, because of their numbers ; because of theLr 
advantages ; because of their confidence ; because of our frailty; 
because of our straits. But we were in the Mount, and on tho 
Mount the Lord would be seen ; and He shall send the rod oi 
His strength out of Zion ! " and tinally applying to himself 
tLe Scripture, Dominare in midiu inimicvrum tuurum. 

In fact, the general blasphemy of the entire uge should 
never be forgotten, since it helps to explain the curious rounds 
of that ladder of impiety by which the Protector ascended to 
his elevation. Beneath the warm sunbeams of unexpected 
prosperity he had stealthily returned to his earlier sensualism 
and indulgences. But what were these to a blinded partisan 
and sectary, who could trace out a parallel from the pages of 
the Bible between himself and Moses ; dwelling upon the 
marvellous ajid princely perfections of them both, tl ascending 
in their respective ages through thirty degrees to the height 
of honour." The German apostle of Protestantism had said 
Ptccafortitir to one of his adherents ; nor could some of the 
Puritans in the seventeenth century bring themselves to for 
bear saying out Jlmin to the precept. Ail sense of real rever 
ence towards Almighty God had vanished from these islands ; 
and where was morality to be sought for when genuine faith 
was gone ? The counterfeits of bodi were of course multiplied 
in the most disgusting forms. We will venture on two or 
three specimens of their pulpit eloquence. The blasphemy of 
some of them is so shocking, that we almost doubt as to the 
propriety of introducing them ; but they are necessary as illus* 
tratious of the spirit of the times. 

At Perth a military preacher avowed in his prayer before 
the army, that " unless God deLvered them, lie biiould not be 
their God." A Presbyterian wrestled, as it was teiinod, ic 



COLLEGK 

Oliver Cromwell. Vl*4V: 



his Sabbath prayer, " Lord ! when wilt Thou take a 
chair, and sit among the Peers V When wilt Thou vote among 
the honourable Commons? Another said, "We know, 
Lord, that Abraham made a covenant, and Moses made a cove 
nant, and David a covenant, and our Saviour a covenant ; 
but the covenant of Thy parliament is the greatest of all cove- 
nants ! " Oliver had once to listen to a regular roarer in Eng 
land, who addresbed his Maker thus : " Lord! what wilt Thou 
do with the malignants, the prelatists, the papists, and the rest 
of them ? I ll tell Thee : e en take them by the heels, and 
roast them in the chimney of hell. Lord ! take the pestle of 
Thy vengeance, and the mortar-piece of Thy wrath, and make 
their brains a hodge-podge. But for Thine own bairns, Lord; 
feed them with the prunes and raisins of Thy promises ; give 
them the boots of hope and the spurs of confidence." Hie 
own chaplain, Hugh Peters, already mentioned, when alluding 
in his sermon to the late struggle between the English and 
Dutch, informed his audience that the conflict really " lasted 
ao long that Almighty God was thrown upon His hums and 
His haws as to which side He should cast the victory." And 
when one of the fifth-monarchy enthusiasts mentioned to thia 
puritan Boanerges, or as another account has it, to his friend 
and fellow-secretary, Streuter, that Jesus Christ was boon 
coming in person to reign with the saints in London, ;he 
preacher confidentially replied, with more seriousness thau 
reverence, that " unless He came before Christmas, it icuuld 
be too late ! " 

In truth, to all intents and purposes Oliver Cromwell was 
from this time the real regent or sovereign of the realm. It 
was resolved in October 1651, that the forces fchould Le placed 
upon such an establishment as would reduce their expenses by 
35,000/. per mensem. The parliament also proposed an 
amnesty, as well as a new electoral law, with various projects 
of civil and religious reform ; when it presently appealed that 
its days were numbered. The members remained purblind to 
a most amusing degree, whilst their master was only giving 
them rope enough to strangle what yet remained to them of 
reputation. There were individuals amongst them of spotleas 



146 Oliver Cromwell. 

integrity ; but the majority had manifested little else than sel 
fishness, narrow-mindedness, hypocrisy, and an utter incapa 
city for honest or effective government. Cromwell and his 
creatures had so managed public opinion, that the clamour for 
* dissolution appeared unanimous at the very period when the 
parliament was idly attempting to perpetuate its own existence. 
At length the crisis arrived; and the well known scene occurred 
on the 20th of April, 1653, in which the sword of the execu 
tive overcame and put to flight the mace of the Speaker, with 
Mich a sentence as "Take away that bauble!" " When I 
went down to Westminster," said the mendacious lord-general, 
" 1 did not think to have done this. But perceiving the 
Spirit of God so strong upon me, I would not consult 
with flesh and blood." The Council of State was dissolved 
on the same afternoon. Hatred and contempt for that political 
gimcrack, the Commonwealth, which the foot of a conqueror 
had now kicked to pieces, aroused many partial movements of 
popular admiration, such as an audacious and successful Hue 
of conduct will almost always inspire. Congratulatory ad 
dresses awaited the dictator from various quarters : from the 
mystical sectaries, who hoped that the fall of the Parliament 
might introduce a reign of Christ and His saints (meaning by 
the latter term themselves) ; from the army in Scotland, whose 
leaders cordially approved the whole measure ; from the army 
in Ireland, which at least signified its acquiescence ; from the 
fleet, careless as it seemed of politics, and intent alone upon 
the acquisition of nuval glory ; from the City of London, 
where a few scrupulous aldermen lifted up their voices in vain ; 
and generally from the richest and most influential towns in 
the three kingdoms. Cromwell nevertheless condescended to 
justify his conduct in a long manifesto ; convoked the Bare- 
bones assembly ; demonstrated to its component members, a 
well as to the world, their unfitness both for counsel and 
action ; accepted from them a resignation of the government 
into his own more ablo hands ; and finally, on the 16th of De 
cember, 1653, assumed openly the office and powers of the 
Lord High Protector over England, Scotland, and Ireland, 
all their colonies and territories. He was solemnlv iu- 



Oliver Cromwell. 147 

stalled in a grand chair of state with extraordinary festivities, 
and after a very long sermon in the banqueting-hall. Hi? 
town-residence henceforward was the palace of his late deca> 
pitated sovereign. 

It had been newly furnished for the reception of the pro- 
tectoral family upon a magnificent scale. The style and 
etiquette of a regular court were once more revived. Ambas 
sadors were presented to his Highness, as he stood upon u 
platform raised three steps above the floor. They had to make 
a profound reverence thrice ; the first time on entering to 
saloon, the second when they had advanced midway, and the 
third when they approached the foot of the elevation ; where 
Cromwell, having given to each of their homages a slight in 
clination of his head, then allowed them at last respectfully to 
kiss his hand, at least such a permission was sometime** 
awarded, though by no means as a matter of course ; for on 
occasions he withheld such a mark of his condescension, and 
waved the representatives of foreign powers out of his presence 
with more than a royal bow. The expenditure of his house 
hold was 140, OOO/. per annum, equivalent to the civil list of 
Queen Victoria, when the differences in the value of money 
are taken into consideration. His equipages must have ap 
peared truly regal : his wife, and his mother, with the junior 
members, all received the attention exacted by princes and 
princesses ; whilst, notwithstanding the occasional coarsenei-s 
which might now and then deform the manners of Oliver, or 
the coaxing familiarities which policy induced him to tolerate 
with " certain godly vessels of grace " booked on their journey 
to the New Jerusalem, there was an external grandeur through 
out the entire affair which gratified superficial observers, and 
soothed the national pride. It contrasted strangely with the 
profligate and pitiful exhibition of Charles Stuart at Paris, a 
pensioner of the proud king, and wasting his allowance of 
6000 francs a month upon Lucy Walters ; his grand lord- 
keeper the Marquis of Ormonde, and his equally grand chan 
cellor of the exchequer Hyde, besides other right honourable 
officers and privy- councillors, being all the time without * 
pistole in their pockets, and cheating the poor woman who 



148 Oliver Cromwell. 

boarded them through never paying her bills. Shoes and shirts 
even were not too plentiful with these proud and beggarly 
exiles ; on account of whom, the bitter but honest Andrew 
Marvel compared their master to Saul the son of Cis, " in 
looking after the asses of his father." 

In vain were base plots of assassination hatched against the 
Protector. He organised a system of espionage which let 
him know what Charles whispered in his bed-chamber ; ho* 1 * 
that royal ladies were between their sheets for the hottest 
hours of a summer s day, because the laundress was washing 
the single linen garment they were so happy as to possess ; 
how that an emisary from Mazarin was in London to confer 
with Gerrard and his fellow-conspirators ; arid in one word, 
exactly what was going forward against or in favour of tho 
government throughout astonished Europe. He restored tho 
finances, repaired the roads, reformed both law and equity, 
mitigated the sufferings of prisoners for debt, improved thu 
jails, established a good police, regulated public amusements, 
prohibited duels, restrained the madness of Presbyterianisnj 
as well as the follies of fanaticism, did his best for a new 
representation of the people, nominated able judges, and, oJ : 
course, persecuted Catholics. In so doing, he only workec 
out the natural instincts of his creed. Dyed red as he was 
with the purple martyrdoms of his Irish compaigns, he bar 
barously put to death a pious and elderly priest named South- 
worth, simply because he had fallen into the clutches of one 
of his officers, and had been convicted thirty-seven years be 
fore, at Lancaster, of no other crime that Papistry. Yet 
what was to be done? This worthy gentleman had since been 
to Rome, and taken holy orders. For this the fierce sordid 
sectarians demanded his blood, as a proof that Cromwell was 
sincere in professing Lin self a " Bible Christian." The French 
and Spanish ambassadors repeated their solicitations for mercy 
with incessant yet fruitless urgency ; while such was the 
respect and sympathy displayed towards the innocent and 
reverend sufferer, that 230 carriages, with a multitude of gent 
lemen on horseback, followed the hurdle on which he was 
drawn to his glorious agony. On the scaffold he meekly men- 



Oliver Cromivell. 149 

tioned the satisfaction with which, through the grace of God, 
he was enabled to lay down his life for the sake of truth ; but 
he also pointed out the enormous inconsistency of his murde 
rers, who, having pretended to take up arms for liberty of 
conscience, could nevertheless inflict such cruel penalties upon 
persons differing from themselves in religious opinions. And 
so this holy victim was hanged, disembowelled, and quartered, 
by the very potentate about to be enshrined in the false flattery 
of anti- Catholic historians, for his subsequent interference on 
behalf of the Calvinistic insurgents at Nismes, and the Wal- 
denses of Piedmont. 

In less than nine months, the active and able Protector had 
issued above fourscore ordinances, bearing upon almost every 
part of the social organisation of the country; but the boasts 
of his domestic policy were such events as the execution of 
the brother of the Portuguese minister for riot and homicide, 
or the incorporation of Scotland and Ireland with England. 
Even these achievements, however, might subside into obscu 
rity, as compared with the skilful management of foreign 
affairs. Schemes had been started for that sort of union 
between Holland and the three kingdoms which circumstances, 
little anticipated, at length effected for an interval of thirteen 
years, through the Revolution of 1688. No sooner was the 
helm openly in the grasp of Cromwell, than he set himself to 
effect what alone was at all possible under the then existing 
state of things : he aimed at a reasonable peace with the 
United Provinces, recognising indeed their national indepen 
dence, but securing the trident of the ocean for his native 
land. Vane had superintended the Admiralty with the most 
prescient and disinterested ability. By uprooting abuses, and 
surrendering enormous emoluments, he contented himself with 
the modest salary of One, insteed of thirty thousand pounds 
per annum ; and at the same time laid deeply and immovably 
the foundations of our maritime greatness. True indeed it is, 
that for nearly a quarter of a century the Dutch maintained 
a struggle for naval supremacy with theix more fortunate 
rivals ; yet equally certain it also is, that they never recovered 
from their efforts, and that from the age of the protectorate, 

20 



150 Oliver Cromwell. 

and the subsequent administration of James Duke of York, 
the British flag has permanently maintained its superiority. 

Oliver s next object was a general Protestant alliance, by 
which Denmark, those of the Swiss cantons which were not 
Catholic, as also several of the petty Lutheran princes in the 
north of Germany, were included in the negotiation with the 
Batavian republic. With Sweden he had a more difficult part, 
to act ; for the subjects of Queen Christina were practical as 
well as theoretical opponents to the precepts and doctrines oi 
religion, and their sovereign was contemplating a return to 
the fold of the faithful. Whitelock, the envoy of Oliver, 
and far from being a strict Puritan himself, any more than 
his master, was absolutely scandalised at their laxity of morals. 
The propositions from London, followed up by suitable in 
structions from the Protector, were nevertheless acceded to at 
Stockholm, just one month before the daughter of Gustavus 
Adolphus ceased to reign. They placed Oliver Cromwell, 
with regard to the Protestant interests of Europe, exactly in 
the position in which a confederation in our own age placed 
Napoleon with regard to the Germanic principalities. He 
became thereby an almost absolute umpire over the foreign 
relations of numerous adjacent states. Another special treaty 
with the court at Copenhagen opened the Sound for English 
commerce, depriving the merchants and herring-busses of 
Amsterdam and the Brill of their long- cherished monopoly. 

France and Spain meanwhile were bidding against each 
other for the honour of his friendship. With Portugal he also 
effected an arrangement most beneficial to the trade of his 
people ; so that, thus caressed and feared by the whole of 
Christendom, and victorious over all parties at home, he 
thought he might face without danger the seventh article of 
the Protectoral Constitution, which called upon him to issue 
writs for the convocation of a new parliament. No general 
election had now happened for fourteen years ; but the former 
plan of Sir Harry Vane was adopted, and the summonses were 
made returnable for the 3d of September, 1654. Four hun 
dred members were allotted for England and Wales ; thirty for 
Scotland, and the same number for Ireland. Yet the expec- 



Oliver Cromwell. 151 

tations of the great autocrat were disappointed. After weari 
some speeches which satisfied nobody, and party hostilities no 
longer possessing a shadow of interest, he dissolved the assem 
bly in anger, that he might endeavour to govern alone. This 
proved no easy task ; he had to baffle the royalist and republi 
can conspiracies, resulting as they did in the insurrections of 
Salisbury, under Colonel Penruddock, and the northern coun 
ties, where Lord Rochester was to have carried all before him. 
Then followed his system of major-generals, a set of satraps, 
who were to exercise all political and administrative powers, 
and to a certain point all judicial authority, in their respective 
districts, which were twelve in number. From their decisions 
there was to be no appeal but to the Protector and his council. 
The object was to overawe some legal attempts at resistance 
against the usurpations of Cromwell, and at the same time 
support a local militia devoted to the government, for which 
the ways and means had to be found in an income-tax of ten 
per- cent, levied on the Royalists alone. Connected with such 
arbitrary measures was an interference with the liberty of the 
press ; but, as M. Guizot justly observes, Oliver Cromwell thus 
" tyrannically involved his power in a course of revolutionary 
violence, and set parties once more at variance, not by civil 
war, but by a system of oppression. He appealed to neces 
sity, and doubtless believed himself reduced by circumstances 
to act as he did ; if he was right, his was one of those neces 
sities inflicted by the justice of God, which reveal the innate 
viciousness of a government, and are the inevitable sentence 
of its condemnation." 

Henceforward his administration was neither more nor less 
than a naked despotism, compared with which that of Charles 
and James, kings of England, had been the mildness of milk- 
and-water, excepting that the former was so lost in the latter 
that the evil sank into the social constitution like the poison 
of a spring, which happens to be tasteless, though not the less 
deleterious. His endeavours td preserve popularity by a one 
sided religious toleration could have deceived no one, not even 
himself, any more than his conduct towards Oxford and Cam 
bridge. There might be hope through the dazzling effects of 



152 Oliver Cromwell. 

foreign conquests ; and he had now made up his mind to act 
with France against Spain. Cardinal Mazarin and the Pro 
tector proceeded in the execution of a project which was des 
tined effectually to humble the court of Madrid. Blake sailed 
into the Mediterranean, and performed wonders of policy and 
valour before Leghorn, against the Barbary States, and off 
the port of Malaga. But in the West Indies Admirals Penn 
and Venables failed against St. Domingo ; and the capture oi: 
Jamaica, then estimated far beyond its genuine value, remained 
their only trophy. Yet still the popular mind seemed to some 
extent gratified. On the continent the prowess of Great 
Britain had never been so felt and lauded. External testi 
monies of respect reached the Protector from various parts ; 
since, independently of the foreign ministers who had their 
usual residence in London, ambassadors -extraordinary were 
sent from Sweden, Poland, Germany, and Italy, to present 
him with the homage or overtures of their masters. Sagredo, 
the Venetian envoy, presents us with a picture of his impres 
sions in 1656 : " I am now in England," he says : " the as 
pect of this country is very different from that of France ; here 
we do not see ladies going to court, but gentlemen courting 
the chase; not elegant cavaliers, but cavalry and infantry; 
instead of music and ballets, they have trumpets and drums ; 
they do not speak of love, but Mars ; they have no comedies, 
but tragedies ; no patches on their faces, but muskets on their 
shoulders ; they do not neglect sleep for the sake of amuse 
ment, but severe ministers keep their adversaries in incessant 
wakefulness." There appears little of the attractive in this 
portrait ; and Cromwell himself, surrounded as he seemed to 
be with secular grandeur and glory, must have inwardly re 
cognized the skeleton that marred it all, or dreamed of the 
sword of Damocles terrifically gleaming in the air. There 
could be ao rest for his soul, as it mounted from one splendid 
misery to another. 

Stern necessity at length compelled him to venture upon 
another parliament ; nor could he complain this time of its 
results. The exclusion of nearly 100 members left the re 
mainder at liberty to strengthen the sceptre of the Protector, 



Oliver CromivelL 153 

and even tender him the real crown for his acceptance. We 
may well conceive how tempting must have been the offer; yet, 
after an agony of suspense, he declined it, accepting in its 
stead the Humble Petition and Advice, which was soon 
followed by the famous pamphlet entitled Killing no Murder. 
Colonel Saxby was probably its author; but it did not prevent a 
second installation of Oliver Cromwell, who by the new con 
stitution, as arranged between himself and the commons, now 
enjoyed the right of appointing his successor, and governing 
with more concentrated powers. An upper house was also 
restored, the illusive shadow of a peerage. It has been thought 
by some, and perhaps with justice, that he was never the same 
man again after the vain vision of recognised royalty had for 
ever withdrawn from his view. He still enjoyed the reality, it 
was true, or at least with regard to prerogative, and the extent 
of his renown and influence in Europe; but the golden circlet of 
a diadem, that symbol of venerable authority, with its hallowed 
associations of 1000 years, worn as it had been by Alfred, by 
the Conqueror, by the Henries and Edwards of English history, 
that crown which confers the title of majesty, which re 
ligion consecrates and which the world worships, and which 
the representatives of an admiring people had positively pressed 
upon his brow, -had now vanished even from his imagination. 
The hard, cruel scruples of a few intimate friends had alone 
intervened between the dreams of an ambitious manhood and 
their fullest realisation. How bitterly he strove to overcome 
those scruples, to what humiliations and hypocritical artifices 
he condescended for that purpose, Whitelocke, in his Memorials, 
has almost unconsciously informed us. 

"The Protector," he says, " again and again advised with us 
about this affair of his accepting the title of king, and would 
sometimes be strangely cheerful with Lord Broghill, Pierre - 
point, Sir Charles Wolseley, Thurloe, and myself ; yea, now 
and then laying aside his greatness, he would become exceed 
ing familiar, and by way of diversion would make verses with 
us, so that every one might try his fancy. He would then 
commonly call for tobacco, pipes, and a candle, or would now 
and then even take tobacco himself ; then he would fall again 



154 Oliver Cromwell. 

to his serious and great business ," that vanity of vanities; 
in other words, of enjoying the name as well as the substance 
of sovereignty. 

On another occasion, he invited himself to dinner with 
Colonel Desborough, a very Brutus among the opponents of 
the proposed revival of avowed monarchy, and after the meal 
he " drolled with the party present about kingship. Speaking 
slightingly of it, he said, it was but a feather in the cap cf 
a man, and therefore wondered that folks would net 
please the children, and permit them to enjoy their rattle. * 
This incident is mentioned by Ludlow. But all the tricks of 
the arch- actor were useless ; so that the apex of his aspirations 
dissolved finally into air : and thus foiled in that single point 
he felt himself defeated. His health undoubtedly began to fail, 
whether from this particular cause or not can now scarcely bo 
ascertained. He was getting into years, after a life of labou:* 
and care which would have told upon the energies of a Caesar 
or a Samson. Henceforward he is said to have worn armour 
under his clothes, and to have seldom slept two nights conse 
cutively in the same apartment. The Parliament which had sc 
flattered him began to get restive : in its second session it 
openly quarrelled with him ; nor could the upper house long 
stand its ground. The old ancestral peers would not sit, or at 
least would not work with the new lords, some of whom had 
once been cobblers, clothiers, woollen- drapers, dry-salters, and 
little shop-keepers. His Highness at last dissolved his refrac 
tory chambers. The agitation of parties out of doors aug 
mented every day. Payment of taxes was now and then re 
sisted ; the exchequer was getting low, particularly through the 
heavy expenses of the Spanish war. Admiral Blake had also 
died, after gaining the most brilliant of his naval victories in 
the Bay of Teneriffe. Some galleons had been taken at an 
earlier period with considerable, although exaggerated, trea 
sures on board ; but the public convoy which carried them from 
the sea-coast to the vaults of the Bank and the Tower deeply 
impressed the populace, and seemed to render the general 
burdens more tolerable. 

Plots, however, revived with increasing frequency. The 



Oliver Cromwell. 155 

Protector, indeed, suppressed them, and entered with greater 
cordiality than ever before into the objects of his alliance with 
France. In fact, on the continent his policy had immense 
success, while the capture of Mardike and Dunkirk threw 
gleams of transitory radiance upon the sinking sunset of his 
reign. He had sent his son-in-law, Lord Faulconbridge, on a 
splendid embassy to Louis XIV. , and received the Duke de 
Cregin as representative of that potentate in London. Already 
was the convocation of another Parliament occupying his mind, 
when family misfortunes, in connection with the cares of state, 
undermined his strength, and laid him more open to attacks of 
intermittent fever, which had been his old disorder in Ireland 
and Scotland. He had removed for change of air, after the 
death of his favourite daughter, Lady Claypole, to Hampton 
Court, but was induced to return to Whitehall on the 24th of 
August 1658. From this day his danger became visible. It 
is to be feared that fanaticism alone upheld him in his last 
struggle. He had named his successor, and yet still clung to 
life. With all his crimes gathering around the ghastly recol 
lections of the past, there seemed scarcely a semblance of any 
repentance, or humble apprehensions for the future. The 
Calvinistic and monstrous delusion, that, having felt himself to 
have been once in the grace of Almighty God, it was impos 
sible for him ever to have fallen away, was the mermaid which 
held before his eyes her false and fatal mirror of hope, a hiss 
soul vainly battled with the awful billows of eternity. He 
expired on the 3d of September, between three and four 
o clock in the afternoon, with a deep sigh, amidst the wailings 
of his family and attendants, the half-frantic amazement of his 
chaplains, the shudder of three nations, and the roar of ;i 
violent tempest, which had been raging all through the pre 
vious night, with innumerable disasters over the sea and land. 
Such was Oliver Cromwell, the hero and personification of 
Puritanism, and certainly one of the most remarkable men in 
the pages of British history. His funeral was performed with 
the pomp and parade which have usually accompanied the 
obsequies of our sovereigns. In some worldly respects, he 
truly towered amongst them as a giant amidst the great ones 



156 Oliver Cromwell. 

of the earth ; conspicuous as he had been for military achieve 
ments, successful policy, and governmental talents. He had, 
moreover, carved out his own fortunes ; and in doing so, had 
availed himself both of the strength and weakness of his 
fellow-countrymen. But the grand spell of his life, with which 
so many wonders had been wrought, it must be admitted, was 
a system of imposture. Astonishing genius was indeed, in 
his peculiar instance, the soul and essence of the fraud ; yet 
there it glittered, an enormous cheat, after all. The personal 
character of the Protector, from his cradle to his grave, 
strikes the eye of the mind as a vast congeries of carious con 
trarieties ; the grand mingles strangely with the base, and the 
grovelling with the sublime. He was generally coarse, yet 
could be most refined : at times full of tricks and antics, an 1 
making the most hideous grimaces in his prayers, or turning 
his eyes into fountains of tears, or filthily soiling the dresses 
of his ladies with practical jokes which ought to have brought 
him to the pump and the whipping-post, he could nevertheless 
mould a senate to his will, or direct for his own purposes tho 
waves of rebellion and the thunders of war. Beneath tho 
garb of godliness he concealed outrageous vices ; the less par 
donable after his marriage with a lovely and puremindedlady, 
who had too solid grounds for her jealousy, not perhaps 
against the Queen of Sweden, but certainly against other 
wom6n. 

It is remarkable that, as in the case of several enormous 
sensualists, no drugs of embalmment could preserve his bod) 
from overpowering and rapid corruption. The sere- cloths, 
though six times doubled, yet swelled and burst, with an ofien- 
siveness so far worse than the fetor of disease or the work of 
the worm, that immediate interment became necessary ; and 
the final solemnities, both at Whitehall and Westminster 
Abbey, as is well known, presented, instead of the real remains 
of the deceased, a mere effigy to the public gaze. It was 
made of wax, fashioned to an admirable likeness, apparelled 
in rich velvet, laced with gold, furred with ermine, and adorn 
ed with purple. The kirtle was girded with an embroidered 
belt carrying a sword. In the right hand of the image was a 



Oliver Cromwell. 157 

sceptre, in the left a globe ; and behind the head, when it lay 
in state, was a rich chair of tissue surmounted with an impe 
rial crown. Surely this singular pageant afi ords an instructive 
hieroglyphic of the character and destinies of the personage 
whose portrait we have been attempting to draw. 

Guizot observes, " that he departed in the plenitude of his 
power and greatness : having succeeded beyond all expectation, 
far more than any other of those men ever succeeded, who by 
their genius have raised ihemselves, as he had done, to su 
preme authority ; for he had attempted and accomplished, 
with equal success, the most opposite designs. During eighteen 
years, he had alternately sown confusion and established 
order, effected and punished revolution, overthrown and res 
tored government in his own country. At every moment, 
under all the circumstances, he distinguished with admirable 
sagacity the dominant interests and passions of the time, so 
as to make them the instruments of his own rule, careless 
whether he belied his antecedent conduct, BO long as he 
triumphed in concert with the popular instinct, and explaining 
the inconsistencies of his conduct by the ascendant unity of 
his power. He is perhaps the only example which history 
affords of one man having governed the most opposite events, 
and proved sufficient for the most various destinies." The 
wonder is, that he was never assassinated, nor his life ever 
actually attacked. The greatness of his family began and 
died with him ; for neither widow nor children could find favour, 
or even justice, amidst the popular frenzy of the Restoration. 
Yet his administration involved and partially developped the 
noblest germs of our national and naval prosperity. His 
name will never be forgotten. Abroad he intimidated Holland, 
humiliated Spain, overawed Sweden, overreached Mazarin, and 
punished the Barbary corsairs ; whilst at home, in three king 
doms, he coerced their aristocracy, bridled their religious 
establishments, and subdued their factions. Walter Savage 
Landor declares, that " no agent of equal potency and equal 
moderation had appeared upon earth before him. He walked 
into a den of lions, and scourged them growling out : his 
imitator in modern times was pushed into a menagerie of rnon- 

21 



158 Masters and Workmen in the middle ages. 

keys, and fainted at their grimaces ! " Napoleon, however, 
was a Cromwell upon a European scale; but then the latter 
preceded him. We owe much, beyond the possibility of doubt, 
in the way of mere worldly welfare, to the Great Protector : 
yet clearly enough it appears that, upon the whole, he was a. 
bad man, who reaped, under the auspices of a lie, the rewards 
in this lower scene of enormous iniquity ; whose soul, thougl 
endowed with so many gifts and talents, yet revolved in lonely 
selfishness upon its own centre ; and who lived through a ge 
neration of hypocrisy, to leave his subjects no better alterna 
tive than a choice between anarchy or the Stuarts. 



MASTERS AND WORKMEN IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 

( From the Rambler. ) 

A thousand years ago, when England was ruled by Ethelred 
the Anglo-Saxon king, the law of the country was thus de 
clared : 

" We all zealously hold one Christianity ; and the ordi 
nance of our Lord and the witan is, that just laws be set up, 
and that every man be entitled to right ; and that peace and 
friendship be observed ; and let every injustice be carefully cast 
out from the country ; and let fraudulent deeds and hateful 
wrongs be earnestly shunned ; and let God s law be zealously 
loved by word and deed : then will God be merciful soon to 
this nation. And let Sunday s festival be rightly kept, and 
marketings and workings be abstained from on that holy day ; 
and let all St. Mary s feast- tides be strictly honoured, first with 
fasting, and afterwards with feasting ; and at the celebration 
of every Apostle let there be fasting and feasting ; and let the 
other festivals and fasts be observed ; and the holy tides of 
the Ember- days and Advent (until the Octave of the Epi 
phany), and from Septuagesiina until fifteen days after Easter. 
And let us diligently turn from sin, and confess our misdeeds, 
and strictly make compensation. And let every man, poor or 
rich, be considered worthy of right ; and let every man do to 



Masters and Workmen in the middle ages. 159 

others the justice which he desires shall be rendered to to him, 
according as it is reasonable. And ever as any one shall be 
more powerful here in the world, so shall he pay for every 
misdeed more dearly ; because the strong and the weak are 
not alike, and cannot raise a like burden ; nor is the hale like 
unto the unhale ; and discreetly are to be distinguished rich 
and poor, weak and strong. And if a money-penalty arise, 
let it belong, by direction of the bishops, to the behoof of the 
poor. And let mercy be shewn for fear of God, and those 
be protected who need it, because we all need that our Lord 
oft grant his mercy to us." 

Similar was the character of the laws of Alfred, who in his 
ordinances recited the precepts of the Mosaic law, marked as 
it was by the most careful consideration for the poor, and a 
systematic favouring of poverty as against property, and com 
manding that the same judgment be given for rich and poor ; 
the king also incorporating in his code the New Testament 
precepts, embodying them all in the comprehensive principle 
that every one should do unto others what he would wish done 
unto himself. 

Asser, in his Life of Jltfred, shews that his example amply 
illustrated his laws ; for he gave a great part of his revenues 
to the poor, and was to their interests wonderfully attentive. 
The biographer adds: " The poor had beside him few pro 
tectors in the country, for the powerful turned their thoughts 
rather to secular than heavenly things, more bent on their own 
profit than the common good." So, Guizot says, that the 
principles of justice and beneficence acted on by the Church, 
explain why the people were always so anxious to be placed 
under her domination : lay proprietors being far from watch 
ing so carefully over the interest of the inhabitants of their 
domains, looking chiefly to their own profit. These instances 
exhibit the different ways in which the Church and the world 
deal with the poor, that is, those who live by their labour : 
a difference displayed in all ages down to the present time, 
at which, indeed, perhaps it is more marked and more impor 
tant than ever. 

When the Church first founded her divine kingdom in thii 



160 Masters ond Workmen in the middle ages. 

realm, there existed the institution of serfdom as respects the 
labourers in husbandry, which was not absolutely abolished, 
but which was deprived of its evil by the influence of her be 
nign principles, as above expressed, and embodied in the law. 
Another view which the Church inculcated is conveyed in the 
ordinance of Louis le Hutin abolishing such servitude in 
France. " Since according to the right of nature every one 
should be born free, but by certain usages and customs which 
have been kept from great antiquity in our kingdom, many 
of our common people have fallen into condition of servitude, 
which greatly displeases us, we ordain that such servitude be 
abolished, and freedom given on good and just condition to all 
who are fallen into it." But so contented were the people 
under Catholic lords, that they scarcely cared for the offersd 
enfranchisement. And the spirit which in this country cha 
racterised the system under the influence of the Church is 
shewn in the simple fact, that if a serf were made to work on 
a Sunday or festival, he was ip so facto emancipated. 

The author of Mores Catholici truly says : " In the middle 
ages the social state was no doubt imperfect : Christianity had 
not terminated its work ; but was it not better to be one of 
the people then, than to be so now, in the nineteenth century? 
He was a serf, it is true ; but is he not now a workman ? " It 
is our object to answer these questions, by shewing that the 
workman now is worse off than the serf was then. 

The same author observes: " The peasant then held to 
something : a moral tie attached him to his master and the 
Church ; at whose door he assumed all the dignity of a man 
and of a Christian ; and which offered him an asylum against 
the world. There was a community of faith and feeling among 
high and low, rich and poor. 

"In a Catholic state one might have looked upon ever j 
person in every rank as one of a great but closely-united 
family, possessing the same feelings and acting from the same 
motives : the poor labourer, the young apprentice, the student, 
the artisan, the soldier, and the sovereign, all had the same 
sources of instruction and consolation as himself. In the tri 
bunal of penance they had all been taught the same leesom, 



Masters and Workmen in the Middle ages. 161 

and had been directed to the same end. In every other state, 
heathen or modern, each man has his own motives, his own end 
in view ; perhaps he thinks virtues what you regard sins ; and 
sins what you regard as virtues. In Catholic states there 
was only one standard of morality ; there was only one faith. 
What an increase of public and social happiness resulted from 
such unity ! " 

The same author shews how the spirit of the Church, so 
essentially social, led to the formation, from a very early period, 
for all trades and manufactures, of confraternities or societies, 
which included both the masters and the men ; and which regu 
lated, by amicable arbitrament, all those questions that have, 
for a long course of years, proved in this country fruitful in 
fatal dissensions between the employer and the employed, the 
case of unskilled labour, the admission of apprentices, th 
amount of wages, and the hours of work. Guardians were 
actually appointed to see that the men had their meals pro 
perly, and worked neither too early nor too late. These 
" guilds " or confraternities are of very ancient origin, and are 
mentioned in our Anglo-Saxon laws. They were of a reli 
gious character ; and all their rules were based upon religious 
principles. The common condition of admission was to " work 
well and honestly ; " and any misconduct forfeited the privi 
leges attaching to them. The men were not to work late : 
why ? because the work could not be so well done at night. 
The masters could not employ men who had not been brought 
up to the business : why ? because the work would not be well 
done. So again, the master could not have more than a cer 
tain number of apprentices with each workman : why ? be 
cause otherwise they would not be well taught. It will be 
seen how the principles of honesty and equity were applied : 
and with what truth our author observes, " that under such a 
system there could not exist ( as in our own age and country ) 
a state of continued (concealed or open) war between masters 
and men." 

It will be observed that the Church did not leave the 
masters and the men to settle all matters separately, each in 
dividual for himself ; or as two classes, each class for itself ; 



162 Masters and Workmen in the Middle *flges. 

but blended both the masters and the men together in common 
confraternities, with a common interest and fellow-feeling : 
so favourable was the Church to association, so hostile to se 
paration. Guizot testifies to the marvellous unity produced 
by the Church in the middle ages ; and the latest of his pro 
ductions proves isolation to be identified with infidelity, and 
destructive of the greatness and happiness of man. And Do 
Haller truly says, that the Catholic religion alone secures ft 
union of hearts and minds ; being founded on that reciprocal 
sacrifice of one for another, which is the bond of all society ; 
not on egotism or selfishness, which is its solvent and des 
truction : on the bond of an immense community united bj 
the same faith and law ; not on a principle of hatred, isolation, 
and law. It is obvious how admirably all this was illustrated 
by these confraternities ; and how much the reverse of all this 
ia exhibited in a system of hostile combinations of masters 
and men as separate classes, with opposite interests ; each act 
ing unrestrainedly on the selfish instincts of human nature. 
Under these associations it was not allowed to any master, for 
his selfish aggrandisement, to make his men work later than 
others ; nor for any man, from the same selfish motive, to offer 
so to work ; as it was considered that thereby an unfair ad- 
rantage would be gained at the expense of the general good. 
It is obvious that the Church alone, with her supernatural 
system, could induce men to sacrifice their selfish interests, 
and act in concert, instead of each seeking " his own." 

And, indeed, as already has been intimated, these societies 
were essentially religious, having each its patron saint : the 
embroiderers, Our Lady; the carpenters, St. Joseph; the tent- 
makers, St. Paul ; the bookbinders, St. John ; and so on ; the 
feasts of the Saints being kept with great devotion. The law 
no further acted than by enforcing among the members of the 
confraternities the engagements they had thereby contracted to 
each other ; just as to this day penalties levied by " byelaws " 
are recoverable at common law. But the erection of these 
confraternities, and the entering into them, were purely volun 
tary ; and the work of the Church, who infused into society 
the spirit of fraternity, which led to their formation. In our 



Masters and Workmen in the Middle *flges. 168 

Statute-book many references may be seen to these " guilds " 
or " fraternities," as simply recognised by the law ; and in one 
act they are described as having been erected by the people 
" merely out of devotion ; " which is a clear legislative recog 
nition of the credit of their establishment being exclusively 
due to the Church ; the " devotion " she had created and kept 
up among the people. 

And thus things were, so long as society continued true to 
the Church ; and thus they would have remained, had not the 
Church been interfered with, or rather checked, controlled, 
and counteracted, and all her good work of unity and peace 
marred, defeated, and defaced, by the selfish legislation of the 
State. Prompted by the selfish feelings of those who " cared 
not for the poor," nor for the Church, whawas their protector, 
" Jeshurun waxed fat and kicked." An evil generation arose, 
who, wearied of the Church, envied her her endowments, which 
she shared with the poor, and hated the power she exercised 
for their protection ; and when this evil spirit of covetousness 
and selfishness was in the hearts of the " great men, it was 
inevitable that they should assail the poor and the Church 
together ; that they who coveted the property of the Church 
should grudge the wages of the poor ; that those who sought 
to cripple her power, should seek also to enslave those on 
whose behalf she exercised it. And it was so. It cannot be 
merely a coincidence : it is an important, instructive, and 
pregnant fact, that at the period when took place the fim 
formal legislative encroachments on the Church, arose the first 
legislative aggression upon the poor. So it is. The first statute 
of mortmain, directed against the religious houses, to prevent 
their acquiring land, passed in the reign of Henry III. ; in 
whose reign the Parliament made the first declaration of a 
feeling adverse to the authority of the Church. To appreciate 
the significance of the statute of mortmain upon this subject, 
it is requisite to remark that the precepts and example of the 
religious led to the greatest liberality towards the poor, and of 
course tended to keep up the rate of wages. The voice of 
history, and the recitals of the acts of Parliament themselves, 
alike attest that these resources were principally expended in 



164 Masters and Workmen in the Middle Jtgts. 

charity and hospitality; and although, of course, the obligation 
of religion, and dictates of reason, would prevent them from 
maintaining in idleness those who were able but averse to work, 
their alms would protect the poor from that pressure of poverty 
which compels them to take whatever wages are offered, however 
inadequate. Hence, the statutes of mortmain, though directly 
and immediately affecting the religious houses, indirectly and 
remotely, but not the less really, bore upon the poor, and affected 
the rate of wages ; for the more the resources of the religious 
houses were restrained, the less relief could be dispensed to tho 
poor, the greater would be the pressure upon them, and the more 
unfavourable the condition of labour. It was not long, 
however, ere direct legislation was resorted to against the poor, 
precisely in the reign in which passed the first act against tht 
Holy See. 

In the reign of Edward III. an act was passed against alms 
giving, reciting, that " Because many valiant beggars, as long 
as they may live of begging, do refuse to labour, giving them 
selves to idleness and vice, and sometimes to theft and other 
abominations ; none, upon the pain of imprisonment, shall, 
under colour of pity or nlms, give any thing to such which 
may labour, so that thereby they may be compelled to labour." 
This was quite of a piece with the statutes of mortmain : both 
were acts against alms-giving; the one against alms (of land) 
to the Church, the other against alms (of money or meat) to the 
poor. The object, nature, and effect, were much the same in 
both cases and as to each class of statutes, viz. love of money. 
In a former series of papers, On the Encroachments of the 
Siate upon the Church, we shewed that this " root of all evil" 
was the " root of bitterness" which wrought and rankled into 
the fatal schism of the Reformation. And we shall see the 



o An act of Henry V. recites " that many hospitals founded by the kings of 
this realm, and lords ppiritual and temporal, to which the founders had given a 
ju-eat part of their ruoveable goods, and lands and tenements, to sustain impotent 
men an>l women, and to nourish, relieve, and refresh other poor people " 
( i. e. tho.se not impotent "able-bodied" labourers), "be now for the most 
part decnyed, and the goods and profits of the tame, by divers persons, spiritual 
aud temporal, withdrawn and ppent on other u^e?, whereby many men and women 
bave died in great misery, for default of living, aid, and tuccour." Of course 
the effect of this muet have been to increase the competition for wages, along 
with the poverty end distress of the poor. 



Masters and Workmen in the Middle *flges. 165 

same spirit actuating the legislation designed to depress the 
poor beneath the rich. 

Concurrently with a series of acts of Parliament directed 
against the Church, commenced another series directed against 
the rights of the labouring classes. An act of Edward ILL 
recites, " Because many, seeing the necessity of masters, and 
the great scarcity of servants, will not serve unless they may 
receive excessive wages, and some rather willing to beg in 
idleness than by labour to get their living ; we, considering 
the grievous incommodities which of the lack especially of 
ploughmen and such labourers may come ; " and then proceeds 
to enact, " that every man and woman able in body, and not 
having of his own whereof he may live, if he be required to 
serve, shall be bounden to serve him who shall so him require, 
and take only the wages which were accustomed to be given 
in the places where he oweth to serve in the twentieth year 
of the king s reign, or the five or six common years next be 
fore; and if any such man or woman, being so required to serve, 
will not the same do, he shall be taken and committed to the 
common gaol, there to remain in strict keeping until he find 
surety to serve." That is, the poor are to be forced to work, 
but, as some protection, their wages are fixed; for it is provided, 
" that no man pay, or promise to pay, any servant any more 
wages than was wont to be paid in the twentieth year of the 
king s reign" (or the five years before), and " that saddlers, 
skinners, white tanners, cordwainers, tailors, smiths, carpen 
ters, masons, tilers, shipwrights, carters, and all other artificers 
and workmen, shall not take for their labour above the same 
that was wont to be paid in the twentieth year of our reign, 
or other common years next before ; and if any man take more, 
he shall be committed to gaol." It is obvious that the wages 
which were " wont to be given" at the time referred to, were 
less than the labourers now claimed, and there is every reason 
to believe less than they had a right to claim, i. e. less than 
the wages which would be just and fair and reasonable. It ap 
pears that it was difficult to enforce the act ; for a subsequent 
act recites, that, " forasmuch as it is given the king to under 
stand that the said servants having no regard to the said ordi- 

90 



166 Masters and Workmen in the Middle Jlges. 

nance, but to their own ease and singular covetise, do with 
draw (z. e. decline) to serve great men and other, unless they 
have double or treble of what they were wont to take the said 
twentieth year ; " it is enacted, " that carpenters, masons, and 
tilers, shall not take by the day above so much, and their 
knaves so much. And that cordwainers and shoemaker*; 
shall not sell boots nor shoes, nor none other tilings touching 
their mystery, in any other manner than they were wont tho 
said twentieth year; and that goldsmiths, saddlers, horse- smiths , 
tanners, tailors, and other workmen, shall be sworn to use 
their crafts in the manner they were wont to do the said 
twentieth year ; and if any refuse, they shall be punished by 
fine and ransom and imprisonment, at the discretion of the 
justices." 

These " justices" were of ccmrse the u great men " who 
complained of the "excessive wages" of the labourer ; and 
one may imagine the " justice " the poor labourers got at their 
hands, and may suspect the " singular covetise " of those who 
framed it. The act was too iniquitous to last in that form ; 
so, after a few disturbances, which the student of history will 
perhaps recollect or refer to, the act was altered as to the 
" penalty," and it was " accorded that labourers shall not be 
punished by fine and ransom," and imprisonment at discretion, 
but by imprisonment for fifteen days. Nevertheless the la 
bourer did not gain much ; for by the same act it is provided, 
that a labourer " departing from their service" might be 
branded and burnt in the forehead with an iron made in the 
form of the letter F, in token of his falsity." 

In the reign of Richard II. we find it ordained that these 
statutes be firmly held and " put in execution." The result 
all our readers are aware of the formidable insurrections under 
Wat Tyler and others, which, though ascribed by historians 
(so carelessly is history written by men not acquainted with the 
laws) only to the pressure of taxation, were obviously excited 
chiefly by these arbitrary enactments. In the year 1381 (in 
the same reign) the king, in an act of pardon, speaks of the 
" insurrection of villains, which of late did traitorously rise in 
outrageous numbers against God, good faith, and reason ; but 



Masters and Workmen in the Middle *ftges. 167 

we suspect that there was more ground to say that the laws 
against which they rose were against " God, good faith, and 
reason." Such, however, were the " strikes" of the middle 
ages. In the same reign, in the year 1388, it is again ordained, 
that the statutes of labourers and artificers be firmly kept and 
holden, and that there be a pair of stocks in every town to 
justify the said labourers and artificers, as is ordained in the 
said statutes. And it is " ordained " that no labourer shall 
depart (even) at the end of his term (of service) out of the 
hundred where he is dwelling, to serve or dwell elsewhere, or 
by colour to go thenee in pilgrimage, unless he have letters 
patent, &c. It is also " ordained " that, because labourers will 
not labour without outrageous and excessive hire, they take 
no more than so much, or " less in the county where less was 
wont, to be given," " without clothing, courtesie, or other re 
ward, (even) by contract." So that even if the employer pro 
mised any thing more, he need not have given it. We may 
imagine how the poor working-people would be " justified," 
however, under this act, if they complained of low wages ! It 
would appear that the operation of these acts was obstructed 
by the guilds and confraternities we have before described; for 
we find an act " against unlawful orders made by masters of 
guilds, fraternities, and other companies," which it will be re 
collected had for ages been recognised by the law, and allowed 
by Church and State to regulate the rate of wages. The pre 
sent act recites "that, whereas the masters, wardens, and people 
of the guilds, fraternities, and other companies incorporate, 
oftentimes by colour of rule and governance, and other terms 
in general words to them granted by these charters make 
themselves many unlawful and unreasonable ordinances" 
(z. e. against the " ordinances " of the statutes of labourers, 
which we have described ; and any thing which the " great 
men" considered as against " good faith and reason ") it is 
then enacted, that no such guilds or fraternities make any 
ordinances not approved of as reasonable by the " justices ! " 
Afterwards, however, it is enacted, that the "justices shall fix 
the wages to be paid" i. e. if not by themselves, by their 
tenants ! This iniquitous provision is repeated in the reign of 



168 Masters and Workmen in the Middle *Ages. 

Heary VI. , with a revival of the infamous enactment empower 
ing the justices to inflict punishment by fine and imprisonment 
at discretion ! Thus, then, the justices could force the labourers 
to work for whatever wages they (the justices) pleased to fix ; 
and on refusal could punish them by fine and imprisonment at 
pleasure ! Such was the slavery which the State substituted 
for the holy and happy liberty which the Church had conferred; 
such the fetters forged for those whom she had made free . 
Still let it be remarked that, bad as all this was, the employe 
had not the power of fixing the wages they were to pay ; ami 
the poor had at least the protection of some intermediate! 
power. In the same reign (of Henry VI.) we find an act re 
citing, " that, by the yearly congregations and confederacies 
made by the masons in these general chapiters and assemblies, 
the good (?) course and effect of the statutes of labourers be 
openly violated and broken, in subversion of the law, and to the 
great damage of the commons ; " (. e. the great men who com 
plained of having paid " excessive wages,") and it is enacted, 
that "such chapiters and congregations shall not be hereafter 
holden ; and that if any such be made, they that cause them to 
be assembled shall be judged felons ; and all other masons 
coming to such chapiters and congregations be punished by 
imprisonment, and make fine and ransom at the king s will." 

These acts are curious, because directed against the very 
combinations which, in our own times, have caused such com 
motions. 

It Tras manifest that after the suppression of religious 
houses, the numbers of the poor and the pressure of their 
poverty would be greatly augmented ; and the character of 
Protestant legislation against them, even in this reign and that 
of the pious Edward, is revolting and savage. In the 27th 
year of Henry was passed an act, that governors of shires, cities, 
or towns, shall find and keep every aged, poor, and impotent 
person, by way of voluntary and charitable alms, with such 
convenient alms as they shall think meet ; and shall compel 
every sturdy beggar to be kept in continual labour ; and 
a " valiant beggar or sturdy vagabond ( i. e. an able-bodied 
labourer without work) shall have the upper part of the gristle 



Masters and Workmen in the Middle *flges. 169 

of his right ear cut of ; and if, after that, he be taken wander 
ing in idleness, or doth not apply to his labour, or is not in 
service with any master, he shall be executed as a felon !" 
This, be it observed, might be merely because the man refused 
to work for unjust wages ; and, to close the door of charity 
against him, this act prohibits any " dole or alms," except to 
the common boxes and gatherings of the parish ! 

It need hardly be said, that under the last of the Henries, 
especially after the breach with the Holy See, the legislation 
against the poor was still more oppressive. Thus, one act pro 
vides that " the justices of peace in every county shall give 
license under their seals to such poor persons to beg within a 
certain precinct as they shall think to have most need" (so 
some, who had less need, were to be refused license) ; "and if 
any do beg without such license, he shall be whipped, or set in 
the stocks three days and nights upon bread and water." And 
a vagabond " taken begging shall be whipped, and then sworn 
to return to the place where he was born, or last dwelt by 
the space of three years, and there to put himself to labour." 
These last words expressively indicate the drift of all these 
statutes, so uncatholic in their character, even if passed in 
Catholic times ; the object being, in fact, to force the poor to 
labour for such wages as the rich thought proper. There was 
no provision made to prevent a man being dealt with as a 
"valiant beggar" or "sturdy vagabond," who was not in work 
simply on account of his refusing to work for wages less than 
what would be fair and just. 

An act of Edward VI. recites that " the multitude of peo 
ple given to idleness and vagabondry hath always been very 
great," and that the " kings of the realm had gone about and 
essayed with godly statutes to repress the same ; yet not with 
that success which hath been wished;" and, "partly by foolish 
pity and mercy, the number of idle and vagabond persons 
hath increased, and yet do increase ; " and then follow cruel 
enactments, denouncing, for the first offence, branding and 
slavery ; for the second, branding and perpetual slavery ; and 
for the third^ death. These were the dooms for simple begging ! 
Such was the legislation of our "Reformers" for the poor! 



170 Masters and Workmen in the Middle 3ges. 

Well they realised the Scripture promises to those who " con 
sider the poor ! " 

Of course such savage and barbarous statutes could not 
long be enforced in a country yet more than half Catholic in 
character. They were repealed in the reign of Mary, and nn 
" act touching weavers " recited, that the " weavers have com 
plained at divers times, that the rich and wealthy clothiers 
do many ways oppress them : some by employing persons un - 
skiful, to the decay of a great number of artificers which were 
brought up to the said science of weaving : some by giving 
much less wages and hire than in times past they did." 

This preamble is curious, as shewing that in those days 
precisely the same complaints were made (and especially, be it 
observed, as to the employment of unskilled persons) which ar-3 
at this moment made by the manufacturing artisans. And it in 
also important as a parliamentary testimony, that after the Re 
formation people began to give less wages than they had beer 
wont to pay ; and less than Parliament deemed just. And ii; 
is pretty plain that the " godly statutes" passed by the Puritans 
had tended very much to the prejudice of the working classes, 
and the profit of the men of money, who of course pocketed the 
difference between just and unjust wages. It is important to 
observe here, that the two complaints, of the employment of 
unskilled persons, and the payment of unjust wages, are closely 
connected, and placed in juxtaposition ; for of course the em 
ployers only object in having unskilled workmen was to pay 
them less wages ; and of course the only objection of the 
regular workmen was, that these unskilled men were employed 
to do skilled work, for wffich they were not properly fitted, 
while the regular workmen were ; a system clearly prejudicial 
to the purchaser, as tending to the production of inferior 
articles ; and Parliament, which had enacted many statutes to 
prevent the sale of such inferior manufactures, now decidedly 
pronounced against the system of employing unskilful men to 
do skilled work, merely in order to enable the employer to 
pocket more profit. The act provides, that a weaver shall 
have but two apprentices ; and that none shall be a weaver 
unless he have been apprenticed. The principle of these pro- 



Masters and Workmen in the Middle ages. 171 

visions was upheld in the reign of Elizabeth, very early in 
whose reign (in 1562) an act was passed reciting that there 
remained in force a great many acts on the subject ; and that 
"the wages limited in many of them were too small ; " and 
could not, " without the great grief and burden of the poor 
labourer," be enforced. It is obvious, on the one hand, that 
the " poor labourer" had been gradually getting the worst of 
it, and that as the legislature bore harder upon the Church, it 
had also borne harder upon the poor. Still England (as we 
have already observed) was half Catholic in character, and 
therefore this act again exhibits a great deal of the old Catholic 
feeling as respects the working classes. It confirms, as before 
intimated, the principle of the two provisions of the act of 
Mary, extending it unto all "crafts" or "mysteries ;" and 
enacting that no person shall exercise them without having 
been apprenticed ; and that for every three apprentices a work 
man shall be employed. It also enacts that no workman shall 
be retained for less than a year : a most important provision, 
leading to prevent that fluctuating and fleeting character which 
now, it is universally complained, too often attaches to the 
relation of employer and employed. It then enacted that the 
hours of work should be in winter from " spring of day " till 
"night" (i. e. eight and six), and in summer from five till be 
tween seven and eight, i. e. about twelve hours, deducting two 
hours and half allowed for meals. And, for the regulation 
of wages, it was provided, that the justices in counties, and 
mayors in towns, should assemble yearly, and calling unto them 
"grave and discreet persons," and conferring with them, fix the 
amount of wages in the several occupations for the ensuing 
year. It is apparent that this act is, to a great extent, equit 
able towards the labouring classes. Ten years more, however, 
of Protestantism and pauperism produced a great deterioration 
in the character of the legislation on the subject ; and, enraged 
by the increase of vagrancy (that natural consequence of the 
confiscation of the monasteries), Parliament relapsed into the 
barbarism of the first year of Edward VI. , passing an act 
directing that a vagabond should be "grievously whipped" and 
burned through the gristle of the right ear with an hot iron 



172 Masters and Workmen in the Middle *ftges. 

of the compass of an inch, unless some credible person will 
take him into service for a year ; and " if he fall again into a 
roguish life, he shall suffer death as a felon." 

The object of this act could not have been only to force 
the labourer, by terror of greater penalties than before, to 
take such wages as were offered him, according to the stand 
ard of wages settled under the previous act by the justices in 
conference with the " grave and discreet persons ;" for tho 
acceptance of such wages, if the act were fairly complied with, 
could scarcely be otherwise than very willing on the part oi 
the workmen, and could not have required to be forced on 
them by such dreadful penalties. But the object plainly was, 
to hold over the working classes the terror of such terrific pu 
nishment in case of refusal of work, as to enable the justices 
to fix, or the employers to offer, a far lower rate of wages 
than it would otherwise have been safe to proffer. The act, in 
short, exhibits the savage selfishness of the Puritan spirit, 
struggling to subdue and supersede the half -Catholic character 
of the previous statute for settling the standard of wages, as 
some protection to the poor, and at all events an effective arbi- 
trement between them and the rich. 

Towards the end of the reign of Elizabeth, however, it was 
found that such severe measures were certain to be failures, 
by reason of what the puritanical Parliaments were fond of 
calling " foolish pity and mercy of those who should enforce 
them;" so, in 1597, the inhuman enactments alluded to were 
repealed, and the comparatively mild coercion of houses of 
correction invented. How puzzled the Parliaments of Re 
formed England were (then as ever since) by the problem of 
labour, and what a medley of ideas confused the Protestant 
mind on the subject, can be seen in a subsequent statute for 
encouraging the erection of u hospitals, maisons de Dieu, 
houses of correction, or abiding places for the poor ; " i. e. any 
" abiding places," prisons, or hospitals, so as only to get rid 
of the " great difficulty" of Protestantism, poverty. 

The difficulty evidently was, how to deal with such as were 
temporarily unable to get work. The Catholic system was 
charity ; the Protestant system was cruelty. The Catholic 



Masters and Workmen in the Middle Jlges. 173 

system was to relieve by alms ; the Protestant system was to 
refuse relief, from a selfish apprehension that men who could 
get any alms would not be so anxious to work, or would be 
less ready to accept any wages that might be offered. The 
Protestant plan has been to put a pressure upon the poor, to 
leave them in as much poverty as possible, in order that they 
may be more at the mercy of the employers. 

It is easy to see that the act of Elizabeth, settling a stan 
dard of wages, would be an obstacle in the way of such a sys 
tem, supposing it to be fairly enforced, which probably it often 
was not ; and even if it were, why, it would be easily evaded 
when there was no fund of relief for the poor to fall back 
upon. And to deprive them of any such resource, or any 
means of relief, was clearly the primitive policy of Protestant 
ism, i. c. to let the poor be at the mercy of Mamnlon. It was 
found, however, that the s^tem could not be quite enforced 
without greater outrages upon humanity than the nation would 
bear. And so, at the end of Elizabeth s long reign, in 1591, 
was passed the original poor-law, which provided that the 
parish officers might levy rates for " setting to work" such as 
had " no means to maintain themselves." Such was the basis 
of our present poor-law system, substituted by the Protestant 
Parliament, after half a century of barbarous proscription, 
for the old Catholic way of dealing with the poor ; such is the 
only resource for relief or support to which the working classes 
can resort ; and to that they cannot, unless the parish officers, 
representing the very classes who pay both rates and wages, 
deem that there are no means of maintenance ; which they are 
hardly likely to deem, if any work, for any wages at all, have 
been offered. . It serves to shew very significantly the spirit in 
which Protestantism has all along dealt with the poor, to 
state, that under this act, wages, avowedly insufficient for the 
labourer s support, used to be eked out by relief from the 
rates ! i. e. by collusion with the parish officers, employers 
paid less wages than the labourer could subsist upon, and made 
up the deficiency out of rates levied on the rest of the parish 
ioners! Under such a system, of course the working classes 
were virtually in the power of their employers ; and the statute 

23 



174: Masters and Workmen in the Middle Jlges. 

of Elizabeth, for arbitrating wages, could scarcely be much 
protection to them, when liable to be compelled to take any 
wages they might be offered. 

The only way the workmen had of protecting themselves 
against the injustice of inadequate wages was, of course, to re 
fuse to work at all ; or to agree to work, and then claim the 
fair wages on the ground that the act of Elizabeth had nor, 
been observed, and the rate of wages had not been arbitrated 
upon. 

From the language used in the recitals of numerous acts 
of Parliament passed in the last century, it seems that great 
difficulties had arisen on the subject in the manufacturing dis 
tricts, where the workmen, more intelligent than the agricul 
tural labourers, were not so easily to be imposed upon, and 
would not willingly submit to see themselves defrauded of part 
of their just wages to swell the profits of the capitalist. There 
is reason to believe that the act of Elizabeth was often ap 
pealed to by the artisans ; and it is obvious that the Protes 
tant legislature must have found themselves in considerable 
perplexity on the question. The act, while it existed, gave 
the artisan a right to an independent arbitration of wages ; 
and it could scarcely be seemly to repeal so fair and equitable 
an enactment. The course pursued, accordingly, is most eva 
sive. An act is passed, empowering justices to enforce any 
contracts of employment, although the rate of wages may not 
have been arbitrated. The effect of course was, that the act 
of Elizabeth, although not expressly repealed, was quietly got 
rid of ; for if the workmen once accepted employment at any 
wages, they could be compelled to work, however unjust the 
terms ; and so they were reduced to this sole resource, the 
refusal of work. i. e. to what is called a " strike. " 

Of course strikes ensued, and the combinations, without 
which strikes could not be effective. 

And it is recited by a statute passed in 1725, that " great 
numbers of weavers and others have lately formed themselves 
into unlawful clubs and societies, and have presumed, contrary 
to law, to enter into combinat d make by-laws or or 

ders, by which they pretend to regula lo and prices of 



Masters and Workmen in the Middle Jlges. 175 

goods, and advance their own wages unreasonably ; and many 
other things to the like purpose." And then the act declares 
such combinations illegal, and imposes the penalty of impri 
sonment on those who take part in them. We have already 
said these combinations on the part of the workmen were (and 
are now deemed to be) quite legal ; being only combinations 
to settle between themselves what wages they would take, just 
as masters agreed among themselves what wages they would 
give ; and as no one ever imagined the latter combinations ille 
gal, there was no pretence for supposing the former to be so. 
And the reason for the combination of workmen is obvious 
enough from the recital of an act in the same reign, that " di 
vers controversies and disputes had arisen between the clothiers 
and makers of woollen goods, and the manufacturers employed 
by them;" which disputes and controversies, when arising 
about wages, there were then no means resorted to for the 
purpose of adjusting and determining, as there would have 
been under the act of Elizabeth, or under that act of Mary, 
which our readers will recollect recites, that " rich and wealthy 
clothiers do many ways oppress the weavers ; " a statement not 
less true now than then. 

The regulation of wages, from the time of George I. to 
the present, has been left to be adjusted by the masters and 
men among themselves. 

Such is the state in which Protestantism, after three cen 
turies of shifting legislation, places the question at this mo 
ment. We have seen recently the practical result. 

The statutes referred to passed since the Revolution doing 
away tacitly or expressly with the old Catholic or semi-Catho 
lic acts, whidfr provided protection of some kind for the work 
ing-classes as well as for their masters were all passed under 
the influence of the masters, i. e., of the men of money ; whose 
u interest" became then paramount, and was always the main 
support of the Whigs. Consequently, they are all for the 
protection of the masters, and not at all for the protection of 
the men. Amidst a long series of statutes, from the Revo 
lution to the present time, passed for the encouragement of 
every manufacturer, there has not been any enactment for the 



176 Masters and Workmen in the Middle 

protection of the men. There are, it is true, provisions for 
deciding disputes between them and their masters ; but that 
of course was necessary for the sake of the masters. What 
we mean is, that while there is an enormous accumulation of 
enactments in favour of capital, there is not one in favour of 
labour ; while there are innumerable provisions for the pro 
tection of the masters interest, there is not a solitary one for 
the protection of the men s. And, in particular, though there 
are plenty of clauses to make the men do their work, and not 
combine for greater wages, and so forth, there is none to se 
cure them a fair rate of wages, nor reasonable hours of work. 
And, above all, no provision is made for a tribunal of a-rb: - 
tration upon these important points, such as was established 
by the act of Elizabeth, in accordance with those of Ed 
ward m. 

Now, we repeat, these modern acts were all passed by the 
masters, the men of money ; and this consideration at once 
occurs : if they deemed any arbitration would be for their 
interests or for their protection, they would have taken care to 
restore or provide it. Their not doing so, coupled with their 
obstinate opposition to it at this moment, and the earnestness 
of the men in asking for it, is clear proof that the masters 
known the practical result of leaving them to deal with the me i 
upon the questions of wages and hours of work must be, thai 
they, the masters, will get the best of it ; that is, that th 3 
masters will eventually get the men s labour for less wage * 
than under any fair system of arbitration that is, less than 
fair and just wages. This, we repeat, is clearly the conviction 
of masters and men. 

How can it be otherwise ? The most clear advocates of the 
masters know the reason why, viz. that the masters have (h 
Lord Cranworth s language) "an immense advantage over tht 
men," inasmuch as the masters are not obliged to employ the 
men, while the men are under a necessity of being employee 
by the masters. The employers can do without the work, 
the employed cannot do without the wages ; the masters are 
men of money, the artisans are men without money ; the former 
can wait, the latter cannot (at least it is not likely they can 



Masters and Workmen in the Middle rfges. 177 

wait so long as the masters ) ; in a word, the former are capi 
talists, the latter are labourers ; and the effect of the Protestant 
system is to force the labourers to work for the capitalists on 
such terms as the capitalists choose to offer. It is not so 
enacted, but it is virtually effected. It is the necessary result 
of leaving two parties to contract, one of whom is not in re 
ality, though he may be nominally, free to elect whether to 
accept or reject the terms offered by the other. 

Such (we repeat) is the way in which Protestantism has 
dealt with this social problem : such the state to which it has 
brought the working classes and their employers !. We do not 
desire to enter into the controversy between them ; but, in order 
to illustrate our observations, let us quote a passage or two 
upon each side of the question. The Morning Herald, the 
advocate of the wor-kmen, says, " The demand of the men is 
for the abolition of systematic overtime and piece-work ; but 
they are ready to submit their case to any impartial tribunal. 
The masters will not allow of this, and call it 4 dictation. Yet 
what is there in the demands which those who have the wel 
fare of the labouring classes at heart do not desire ? seeing their 
poorer brethren ground down, ground to atoms, as beneath 
the upper and nether millstone ; and those who ought to help 
them, perverted by false theories of political economy, refus 
ing to regulate labour ; i. e. to protect the weaker against the 
stronger, so that the whole frame-work of society is. being re 
duced to a mere cotton-mill, tearing and roaring on, and on, 
and on, until the stuff, sinew, and substance which supplied it 
are consumed." "If (say the men) there were a fairly-con 
stituted board of masters and men to fix prices and see justice 
done to both parties, the piece-work would be best ; but the 
men ought not to be called upon to labour from morning until 
night for sixteen hours, from six till ten ; while the masters 
exercised an arbitrary power of fixing the prices, and com 
pelling them to accept them under pain of being cast on the 
streets." 

The gist of the men s complaints is, it is clear, that the 
masters, under the present system, exercise a kind of moral co 
ercion over the men, and practically regulate what wages shall 



178 Masters ond Workmen in the middle */2ges. 

be given for the work, and what work shall be done for the 
wages. On the part of the men themselves their grievances 
are thus stated by one of their spokesmen : " If a mechanic 
asked to leave at the close of a regular day s work, he was 
discharged. This was a sample of the compulsory system of 
1 overtime. Men were morally compelled, by the fear of los 
ing their employment and having their families left destitute, 
to accept their employer s terms. Then as to piece- work, 
there was no objection to it, if on terms equitable and fair i;o 
both parties. But the master, knowing the measure of a day s 
work, if he found on the completion of a job done by piece 
work, that the man. made more [than the regular day s wagen, 
on the next occasion offered a reduction ; the man was forced 
to take it, and worked yet harder to keep up his wages at the 
former rate ; and it was clear that this tended to excessive 
labour, and lessened remuneration. There had been reductions 
to the extent of one-half thus effected." 

The masters, in their manifesto, say, " All we want is to 
be let alone. With every respect for noble and distinguished 
referees, whose arbitration has been tendered, and with no 
reason to doubt that their award would be honest, intelligent, 
and satisfactory, we must take leave to say that we alone ari^ 
the competent judges of our own business, and masters of our 
own establishments, and it is our firm determination to remair 
so. Ours is the risk of loss ; ours the capital, its perils anc 
engagement. We claim, and are resolved to assert, the right 
of every British subject, to do what we like with our own ; 
and to vindicate the right of the workmen to the same con 
stitutional privilege. Artisans and their employers are respec 
tively individuals, each legally capable of consent, each seve 
rally entitled to contract. Our agreements for their services 
are made with them in their separate, not their aggregate ca 
pacity. They have labour and skill to sell, we have capital 
to employ and to pay. Who, then, shall stand between these 
two parties to a lawful contract, and dictate to us what we 
shall pay?" 

It is obvious that all this proceeds upon that principle of 
isolation in other words, of selfishness which we have shewn, 



Masters and JVorkmen in the Middle *flges. 179 

even upon Protestant testimony, is so identified with infide 
lity, and is so utterly opposed to Catholicity, which tends, 
as it has been seen, to counteract the selfish in man s nature by 
means of the principle of association. The principle of Pro 
testantism, or of isolation, is, as developed in the argument of 
the advocates of the masters, that each man is to act, employer 
or employed, only as if he were the only individual affected 
by his actions ; as though, for instance, if he worked overtime, 
other persons would not be obliged to do so too, or to suffer 
loss, and so of every thing else. Thus the masters contend 
for the uncontrolled right of every employer to contract for 
the services of any British subject he pleases ; by which they 
mean, "on any terms they please," for such, as we have shewn, 
is the practical result, if the man be obliged to accept what 
ever terms are offered, or to lose employment altogether ; and 
the effect of his acceptance be, to impose on all the others the 
same alternative. Such is the inevitable result of the prin 
ciple of isolation, which, we have seen, is the principle of Pro 
testantism that is, of sectarianism, of egotism, and of atheism, 

The real character of these principles we will state in the 
words of a Protestant journalist. The Herald says : " Of the 
disunion which exists in our manufacturing districts between 
masters and men we have had very striking and fatal proofs 
within the last few weeks. That disunion is not confined to 
the engineers. It runs through all the ranks of mechanical 
labour, and is almost inevitable on a state of things where men 
come and go, where property rapidly changes hands, and where 
nothing, in fact, binds master to man, except the weakest and 
most shifting of all bonds mutual interest. Other than this 
there is no tie of union between them ; there is nothing to 
appeal to, not only when their respective interests seem incom 
patible, but when, as in the present case, they are thought to 
be so. Nothing, then, remains but the annihilation of one 
or the other, so far at least as regards their relations of master 
and man ; and nothing can shew this more clearly than the 
present dispute, wherein the only arguments used, by one side 
at least, had reference only to self-interest." 

Thus, upon Protestant testimony. \vi- convict Protestantism 



180 Masters and Workmen in the Middle rfges. 

of the curse of a system of organised selfishness, of which the 
essence is, " Every man for himself, and only for himself ; " 
instead of the old Catholic and English feeling, "Live and let 
live. " 

And the result what is it ? We will shortly state, in the 
language of the Debats : " We believe that the contest goicg 
on at present in England between the masters and workmen, 
between capital and wages, is more connected than is imagined 
with general politics, and may be attended with consequences 
of interest to all other countries ; and that there is at the bot 
tom of this agitation of the working-classes a principle of sociel 
revolution is what is not contested, and men begin to admit it, 
even in England. It is not generally known what formidable 
progress the Socialist doctrines have made among the working - 
classes in England. It is probable that the workmen who ar<3 
in coalition will be obliged to capitulate, because starved out. 
But on that account will peace be established? The workmen 
will return to the factories with feelings of humiliation and 
hostility, and the war of the two classes will be perpetuated 
silently until a new explosion takes place. That cannot bo 
a sound social state which presents the spectacle of two grea , 
classes arranged in battle array, one with numbers on its side, 
the other with money. If the struggle should continue 01 
some time, immense losses must ensue on both sides, and even 
tually it is the country itself which will lose by the contest. 
The position assumed at present by the two parties, workmen 
and masters, leads to a double suicide. This antagonism of 
interests and classes assumes in England proportions more and 
more alarming ; and the peril of such a situation is augmented, 
when the upper classes, the governing ones, afford the specta 
cle of a radical inability to solve the great social problem." 

Such is exactly the conclusion to which we contemplated 
conducting our readers, that Protestantism cannot settle the 
question how the rich are to satisfy the poor ; how the wealthy 
class is to live with the working class in unity, harmony, and 
peace. We have appealed to history to shew how Catholicy 
did this. These passing events conclusively shew how lament 
ably Protestantism fails to do it. 



King William III. 181 

**S*^S^S**S>*S-*S*J>>^^ 

KING WILLIAM III. 

( From the Rambler. ) 

OTHER people besides the worshippers of mere stocks and 
stones have had their idols both political and religious, before 
which they have bowed down with homage and offerings not 
less wonderful than they appear disgraceful. When the great 
ecclesiastical revolt of the sixteenth century had shaken Euro 
pean society to its foundations, moral standards assumed the 
form of sliding-scales, adapted in the hands of Protestantism 
to suit every emergency : so long at least as they seemed to 
measure the mark of the Beast, or square with the mystically 
perverted numbers of the Apocalypse. Heroes were, there 
fore, either angels or devils, not as their conduct fulfilled or 
fell short of the requirements of the Gospel, but rather as 
they opposed or favoured a certain line of human politics 
the projects of a Spanish monarch, or the ambition of a king 
of France : more especially when, under the guise of religion, 
worldly gear was to be gained, or the robbery of monasteries 
defended. Hypocrisy rapidly rose to an ascendency over the 
master-spirits of the age. Just in proportion as heresy waxed 
rampant in Christendom, rebellion and licentiousness sported 
among its fairest fields ; at first with unblushing effrontery, but 
latterly under some decency of masquerade. Amidst the con 
fusion, men elected their leaders, followed them, crowned them, 
fought under them, sold their own souls for them, and even 
honoured them after death with a sort of secular apotheosis. 
The Whigs of England have distinguished themselves in this 
line ; they glory in a political calendar canonising the names 
of knaves, who in the lower ranks of life might have illus 
trated the cells of Newgate, and ascended the ladder of Jack 
Ketch at Tyburn. To recount them would be long and 
tedious ; yet surely at the head of them all stands that royal 
figure to whose immortal memory the Orange clubs of Ireland 
still pour out their annual libations of claret, William III. ; 
eulogised by the most brilliant of living reviewers, for the 

24 




182 King William HI. 

instruction of our fellow- countrymen, at an expense of thirty 
thousand pounds sterling, paid this very year as the price of 
volumes which will be justly denounced by our posterity under 
the denomination of plauslra mendaciorum. 

A count of Nassau, called Willliam the Silent, had becomo 
Prince of Orange, by the will of his cousin Renatus ; that 
personage being heir, on the maternal side, to Philibert, of 
the house of Chalons in Upper Burgundy. When resistance 
broke out in the Netherlands against the tyranny of Philip II. , 
the first William held the office of stadtholder to the province*; 
of Holland, Zealand, and Utrecht. He was really a great 
man, barring his unhappy apostasy ; wrapt, indeed, in pro 
found reserve, but consistent in his own principles after he 
had once adopted their errors ; and a sincere champion for 
never subjecting Catholics, however deeply he differed from 
them, to any civil disabilities. He shines in history as the 
Washington of his day and generation, achieving the inde 
pendence of his country by the compact of Utrecht, A.D. 1579, 
which united the seven Dutch states into one republic. On 
his assassination at Delft by Balthazar Gerard in A.D. 1585, 
his son Maurice succeeded him, memorable for his connection 
with the Arminians and Gomarists, the Synod of Dort, Grotius, 
and Barneveldt. Henry Frederick, brother to Maurice, was 
the next stadtholder, dying prosperous and rich as to the 
things of this world, having never really troubled himself about 
that which is to come. His son and successor, William H., 
married a daugther of our Charles I. ; through her becoming 
father to a posthumous representative, whose genuine character 
we would fain attempt to draw in these pages. Astrology 
gloated over his horoscope, as was common in those days ; but 
the plain fact was, that his mother brought him into life about 
a week after she was a widow, and at least a month before his 
time. From the cradle he seemed puny in health, size, and 
constitution. His birth occurred A.D. 1650, amidst political 
storms and social confusions, when the Seven Provinces were 
at the height of their commercial grandeur, but when faction 
could insult patriotism > safety, and authority was onlj 
mentioned to be despised. 



King William III. 183 

Two leading parties at that crisis enjoyed the intense plea 
sure of trying to tear their young country into pieces ; the re 
publicans, not unfairly represented by the famous brothers De 
Witts, and the adherents of the Orange family. The former 
were for some years a little disposed to admit French influ 
ences ; so long, at least, as their indigenous liberalism was let 
alone, and their independence uninvaded. The latter were 
more aristocratical, not to say monarchical, in their tendencies, 
and abhorred the Perpetual Edict passed by their antagonists, 
that the princes of the house of Orange should be excluded 
from the stadtholderate for ever. Every form of heresy which 
could originate or exist in the phlegmatic temperament of 
Dutch consciences multiplied like frogs from one end of the 
land to the other; rendering the religious chaos a perfect 
paradise of Calvinistic and Arminian conventicles. Burgo 
masters contended about the five points of divinity, buried as 
to their nether members in so many pairs of trousers, that the 
kick of a horse might be almost as innocuous as the thundering 
argument of a rival. Severed moreover from the Church of 
God, the very genius of mammon had entered into the soul 
and body of the Seven Provinces. Money and merchandise 
drove out every other idea ; except as to the verbal form in 
which it might be expressed, which was generally borrowed 
from Scripture, and therefore sounded most sanctimoniously 
to the external ear. The statue of Erasmus, on one of the 
innumerable bridges at Rotterdam, looked down upon count 
less disputants, fierce defenders of free will, reprobation, or 
indefectible grace ; but whose hearts were as cold and hard as 
its own copper metal ; ready at any moment to trample for 
gain upon the holy coat at Treves, or violate the sanctity of a 
crucifix in the distant regions of Japan. Their ledgers were 
their real Bibles ; rich argosies constituted their floating 
churches ; guilders seemed dearer to them than guardian an 
gels ; whilst ten thousand pillar- dollars, or a place in the cus 
toms, or a successful voyage to India, or the abasements of 
the various controversialists, each in succession identified with 
the attainment of power or profit to one or another, stood in 
profane yet inseparable connection >vith the absolute decrees 



184: King William III. 

of an Almighty Providence. William HI. was educated from 
his nursery amidst such subjects and circumstances. He was 
a minor at the mercy of a greedy multitude, quarrelling, from 
his birth, about the management of his household and estates, 
encumbered as the latter were with heavy debts and obliga 
tions to needy courtiers or dependents, besides the enormcus 
jointures to his mother and grand-mother, which had of course 
to be paid out of them. Prudence and caution, therefore, may 
be said to have been among the necessities of: his existence, as 
they undoubtedly proved the main ingredients of his subse 
quent culmination. He inherited the talent of taciturni;y 
from his ancestors ; but then, in his mind it was the silence of 
deep and dark waters, which not even the eye of the cormorant 
can pierce, but from whose unfathomable abysses the spectra 
of Might and Mischief my be expected at any moment :>o 
to emerge. Beneath the still waves of such an intellectuil 
Avernus, his soul learnt no very Christian lessons from tl.i 
difficulties of his childhood and youth ; while he watched over 
the events around him, as his abilities developed, with the mo. ; t 
ambitious aspirations for the future. His religion, if it dt - 
erves that name, seems to have been a kind of Calvinistic in 
fidelity, not at all restraining him from sensualism or vice, 
but leading him to trust in his destiny, after the manner cf 
those who believe in the Koran. 

The portraits of his countenance and person pretty well 
agree. He had brown hair, a strongly- defined aquiline nose, 
bright sparkling eyes, with a large brazen brow, grave as tha 
monotony of a Dutch polder, yet relieved in some degree b t r 
the clearness of his complexion, until this last grew sallow ; 
upon which the face of William became as ugly as that o.: 
his mistress, Elizabeth Villiers, a wicked woman, whose in 
fluence over him combined the double elements of carnal anil 
mental sorcery. His stature was that of an attenuated body 
too often panting for breath, through constitutional asthma 
to be princely or grand in its movements, as Louis XTV 
always appeared, although not favoured by nature for that 
purpose. William, on the other hand, seemed a dry forma] 
Hollander, with the dregs of the small -pox thrown in upon bit 



King William III. 185 

lungs ; unchcerful and unimpressive ; without conversation or 
the least shadow of attractive manners ; a royal prig when not 
aroused into passion or violence ; taking care moreover, when 
ever that happened, that none below a certain rank should 
ever see him fall foul of his servants, either with the cane he 
might hold in his hands, or the stool he had caught up from 
the floor. Habitually, however, he stood much upon his guard, 
as to which his inherent reserve helped him not a little; and 
the pensionary John De Witts had taught him betimes rarely to 
betray his sensations, but to see and get by heart every thing 
without seeming to take ordinary notice. His memory is de 
clared to have been almost unlimited in its range and accuracy. 
For war and foreign policy he conceived an early and ardent 
admiration ; and, if his talents in the cabinet and on the field 
were not first-rate, they were nevertheless so sharpened and 
intensified by his education and ambition, that they did more 
for himself, and told more against others, than those of far 
superior generals or statemen have sometimes done. His 
powers of observation and combination were the keenest ; whilst 
all his physical senses, through nervous excitability, had 
become acute, and critically exquisite. The gaze of the seven 
provinces never forsook him from the commencement of his 
career. His dull countrymen looked upon him as a prodigy 
destined some day to extend their dominions, promote their 
commercial interests, and perhaps preserve their libertieg. 
John and Cornelius De Witts probably considered him in an 
other light ; in fact as a serpent, uncoiling from feebleness 
into strength, in the bosom of their darling republic ; nor will 
an honest and impartial historian ever aver that they were 
really mistaken. 

The prime object with the youthful prince of Orange was 
to recover the high office of stadtholder ; to which he presumed 
to feel, without of course at first saying so, that, as the lineal 
representative of his family, he was fairly entitled. The grand 
obstacles in his path were the pensionary and his brother Cor 
nelius at the head of the republican party. John De Witts 
governed for many years with great personal simplicity and 
disinterestedness : but it was in an evil hour that Holland 



18G King William III 

threw down the gauntlet to England for the sovereignty of the 
seas, since their trident was at that period wielded by the 
potent and steady genius of Oliver Cromwell. The protector 
proved too powerful an adversary for the pensionary : the 
Dutch acknowledged the loss of 1122 men-of-war and mer 
chantmen ; nor were their expenses less in two summers thun 
they had been during the entire struggle of more than twenty 
with Spain. In the pacification of A.D. 1654, Cromwell not 
merely asserted the supremacy of the British flag, but, to pre 
vent Charles II. from ever obtaining assistance through foreign 
alliances, he attempted to enforce by treaty the perpetual ex 
clusion of his nephew William from the stadtholderate. The 
Dutch were indignant at this attempt on the part of Oliver ; 
to which, however, under the rose, the De Witts were not un 
favourable : but they visibly lost popularity from that houi , 
through the dislike with which the people viewed the interfe 
rence of a foreign potentate, or rather, as they termed him, 
of an usurper, in the internal arrangements of the republic. 
As William grew up, his adherents fanned this flame in many 
ways. The prince himself had listened, as an obedient pupil, 
to the instructions of the very man whom his ambition woulc 
have to destroy before a road could be cleared for realising 
the object of his aspirations. It must have been a curious 
spectacle to have seen the future sovereign learning from his 
hated preceptor the arts of statecraft and kingcraft, involving 
as they ultimately did such tissues of crime and hypocrisy. 
Meanwhile the good pensionary fattened into personal port 
liness upon his modest salary, varying from 300/. to TOO/, per 
annum : notwithstanding the cares of state extending over more 
than half a generation, to additional fierce conflicts with En 
gland, the encroachments of France, the fanaticism of the 
clergy spouting sedition and controversy from a thousand pul 
pits, and the ripening maturity of the Orange viper. William, 
on the verge of manhood, initiated himself into every plot and 
intrigue which might serve his own purposes ; based as they 
one and all were upon maintaining and inflaming the nascent 
hatred of the nation against a couple of prominent yet most 
useful officials. He had entered upon his eighteenth year, when 



King William III 187 

the pensionary carried his point in establishing the Perpetual 
Edict A.r>. 1667 ; whereby it was fondly conceived that the re 
public would never be again plagued with the bugbear of a 
regal prerogative vested in an hereditary president. Alas for 
the folly of human anticipations ! William rallied round him 
in profound secrecy, and with consummate skilfulness, every 
element of revolution which might be ready to explode at any 
signal made by himself. Innumerable coincidences seemed to 
fall in with his design : the De Witts and their followers had 
not worn the laurels of their political successes very meekly, 
nor were the undercurrents of public opinion really in their 
favour ; they were now branded as the traitorous allies of Louis, 
whose armies in A.D. 1672, like a torrent, rushed across the 
frontiers, and overwhelmed three out of seven of the provinces ; 
slanders of the vilest description, worse than the subsequent 
one of the warming-pan at St. James s, and equally success 
ful, poisoned the populace; invisibly, yet effectually, the Orange 
party wound up the passions of the mob, and then let them 
loose upon their victims ; nothing was heard from Amsterdam 
to Dordrect but one wild outcry for an immediate repeal of 
the Perpetual Edict, passed only five years before ; since the 
salvation of the country, as it was now averred, could be 
achieved in no other way than by declaring Wiliam III. stadt- 
holder. That princely adept in hypocrisy performed his part 
to admiration. He had prepared and pronounced the spell 
which raised the storm, and at the same time perfectly veiled 
his own share in the transaction. With mingled coyness and 
alacrity, after various abjurations, denials of his real object, 
and multiplied perjuries, he at length permitted those powers, 
honours, and offices to be, as it were, thrust upon him, for 
which he and his partisans had been plotting through a lus 
trum of years. In the month of July A.D. 1672 the Prince of 
Orange was declared captain-general of the army, supreme 
admiral of the fleet, and finally, hereditary stadtholder. All 
classes, from fear, inclination, or prudence, acquiesced in what 
could no longer be avoided. The goal of guilt was won, and 
success commanded admiration. 

Not that the new master of ,the republic had triumphed 



188 King William III. 

without massacre and bloodshed, for the reverse proved to be 
the truth of the case. The patriotic brothers De Witts were 
offered up as sacrifices to the vengeance of excited throng;?, 
hounded on to their sanguinary work by the suspicions of 
commercial selfishness, and the sly suggestions of a victorious 
faction. The late pensionary, for he had resigned his func 
tions, was assaulted by four ruffians, and left almost dead in 
the streets. Cornelius had the house, in which sickness cor..- 
fined him, attacked, and only not pulled down because a Prc- 
testant inquisition awaited him, on the false charge that he 
had offered an enormous sum of money to a barber- surge*!., 
named Tichelaar, for the assassination of William. Cornelius 
endured the tortures of the rack with unflinching constancy ; 
repeating one of the odes of Horace, like an old Indian singing 
his death-song, whilst his wounded brother wiped the tears 
of agony from his eyes, and consoled him with their mutual 
consciousness of unsullied innocence. After some treacherous 
calm in the political tempest, the billows of popular and pole 
mical turbulence broke out beyond all bounds. The Orange 
men whispered, from head-quarters, that reaction might be at 
hand, unless it were anticipated by necessary firmness. Drum j 
and trumpets gathered together multitudes of irritated burgher* 
at the Hague, where they surrounded the prison of the Di 
Witts, broke down the doors, dragged out both John and Cor 
nelius from their dungeon, trampled them to death under thei * 
woodon sabots, and then deliberately, like wild-beasts, manglec. 
every member of their victims. The two fingers of those 
hands which, according to the Dutch form of solemn swear 
ing, had been held up in taking the oath of adherence to th< 
Perpetual Edict, were now severed, and sold publicly at the 
rate of twelve stivers a joint : less than half an ear of one oi 
the brothers fetched twenty- five stivers. The bodies remained 
hung up by the heels from a gibbet all through the night: 
their garments were, of course, rent off to rags ; the cannibals 
continuing to cut horrid morsels from each carcass until the 
blushing daylight banished to their dens the perpetrators of 
these deeds of darkness. Their rage had been maddened by 
a demand of Louis XIV. for the free exercise of Catholic 



King William III. 189 

worship, with which requisition it was no doubt imagined that 
the late obnoxious leaders of the French party were more or 
less identified. Nor must be it forgotten, that William, instead 
of punishing such disorders, as he was bound to do in his 
mere capacity of governor, effectually screened all the crimi 
nals from legal penalties ; and even directly or indirectly re 
warded several of them so soon as it could be done without 
too startling a violation of Dutch decency. He now avowed 
himself a champion for the Reformation, raised up by the 
grace of God to overthrow Popery, and rescue from ruin the 
independence of his country. 

In this latter labour of love he unquestionably succeeded ; 
nor are we denying the secular merits of the Prince of Orange 
in so far as they possessed a real existence. Our object is 
simply to call attention to the genuine facts of history, to place 
them in their true perspective, to unmask the hollowness of 
Protestant Whiggery, and withdraw the false lights thrown 
upon its favourite idol. The stadtholder now fought a good 
fight, in the sense of local patriotism, against the domineer 
ing ascendency of France ; but surely he never meant to serve 
either his native provinces or the cause of high Calvinism for 
stinted wages. When, therefore, he placed his encumbered 
estates at the service of his government, it was only throwing 
out sprats to catch whales. His pecuniary and political in 
terests happened to be happily identified at a particular crisis 
of European affairs with the limitation of French absolutism ; 
whilst he exerted himself zealously in that career of general 
usefulness which conferred upon his extraordinary courage and 
abilities magnificent worldly rewards. But such a course, 
however important, by no means constitutes the personage 
called upon to follow it, a hero of the first water. It gives 
him no title to adulation and worship when the grave has closed 
over his bones, and is already sullying the gilded crown or 
coronet upon his coffin. William III. was all the while a very 
bad man ; although he liberated Holland from invasion, rest 
ored order, reduced Naarden, laid large districts under water 
to save them from an enemy, resolved to die in the last ditch 
of his flat and foggy yet wealthy meadows, baffied the mighty 

25 



190 King William III. 

monarch of the age with all this marshals, and invited Burnet 
to his court, where, long before the arrival of that doulti ul 
divine, fresh dreams of grandeur had begun to drawn upon his 
imagination. His uncle James, Duke or York, was paying a 
tremendous penalty of unpopularity in England for having 
conscientiously abandoned a false for the true religion. The 
infamous Cabal, as well as the hateful genius of the celebrated 
Lord Shaftesbury, one of its most Satanic members, assisted 
to bring matters in our own island to the simple issue, whether 
Catholicity or heresy should become predominant : the latter, 
moreover, being enabled to impregnate the British mind wi:h 
those horrible prejudices which resulted in the judicial murders 
of the Popish plot and Titus Gates, its ostensible contrive r. 
When the Duke of Monmouth, as the natural son of Charles, 
appeared too coarse a leader for the Protestant party, Shaftes 
bury, retaining in his grasp its most secret springs of actio i, 
had looked across the water towards William, the next in suc 
cession to the sceptre of the Stuarts after the death of Jani-.>3 
and his children. Several of the most profligate agents of 
Protestantism had not hesitated to pledge themselves to his 
service, and advocate his interests, even at a time when he WM 
openly waging war with their own sovereign. This treasona 
ble correspondence passed through the hands of Du Moulin;., 
who, on suspicion of such treachery, had been dismissed fro:n 
the office of Lord Arlington, and obtained in Holland an aj - 
pointment of private secretary to the prince. A plan seen s 
to have been arranged as early as A.D. 1674, between Fr)- 
mans, William Howard a member of Parliament for Winchel- 
sea, and the Earl of Shaftesbury, that the Dutch fleet shoull 
suddenly appear at the mouth of the Thames, when the hovl 
of "No Popery " was suddenly to be raised, and a Protestait 
deliverer demanded before the panic of the people had subsi 
ded. The conclusion of peace then prevented the attempt , 
but did not dissolve the connection between the stadtholder 
and his British adherents. The latter were perpetually en - 
couraging the former still to hope for success through exag 
gerated statements of the national discontent : advising hin 
meanwhile to hold himself always in readiness for taking ad- 



King William III. 191 

vantage of any revolution, which must, they said, be more or 
less imminent in the three kingdoms. 

A marriage was at last openly proposed by Arlington 
between William and the Princess Mary, which it was reserved 
for Lord Danby to bring about at a later date. The stadt- 
holder at first declined it, distrusting Lord Arlington, who was 
supposed to have become a Catholic, as he actually did before 
his death ; and guided also by instructions from Shaftesbury, 
that just at present the nuptials were an artifice of the enemy 
for the destruction of his popularity as Prince of Orange ; for 
it would then be given out that he had joined in a league with 
the king and the Duke of York against British liberty and the 
Protestant religion. William, therefore, rested upon his oars, 
and waited for another opportunity, which fell out quite soon 
enough in October A.D. 1678. The lord- treasurer and Sir 
William Temple were now devoted to his interests; and returning 
with his not unhandsome consort to the Hague, he there laid 
himself out for supplanting his relatives, as well as overreach 
ing his opponents. The Dissenters, rather than the high An 
glicans, were the polemical janizaries on whom he mostly 
relied, and for whose sake, as the twaddle of the Bishop of 
Salisbury informs us, he became " most examplaiily decent 
and devout in the public exercises of the worship of God ; only 
on week-days being somewhat too seldom at the services. Yet 
he was an attentive hearer of sermons, constant in his private 
prayers, as also in reading the Scriptures ; and whenever he 
spoke of religious matters, which he did not do often, it was 
always with a suitable gravity. He was much possessed with 
the belief of absolute decrees ; and he once said to me, he ad 
hered to these because he could not see how the doctrine of a 
Providence could be maintained upon any other supposition. 
His indifference as to the forms of ecclesiastical government, 
and his being zealous for toleration, together with his cold be 
haviour towards the episcopal clergy, gave them generally 
very ill impressions of him." It will be remembered, that the 
toleration of William went no further than the narrow and 
wavering limits of Protestantism, which seemed the more un 
pardonable from the nobler traditions on that subject which be 



192 King William III. 

might have inherited from his ancestor and namesake William 
the Silent. Meanwhile the only difference between the immo 
ralities of the court at the Hague and those of Charles and 
James was, that at London no mask was worn. The Prince 
Orange, behind a curtain of concealment which proved i ar 
thinner than he supposed, violated the matrimonial vow, and 
revelled in abominable vices. It was not for beauty, since 
the most influential of his women could scarcely be brought to 
pass muster upon canvas even through the art of Sir Godfray 
Kneller. He had an end of his own to gain by appearing to 
be what he was not ; while so great was the gullibility of his 
admirers that they gaped and were satisfied. Both Covel and 
Bkelton, comparatively respectable persons, lost his favour, 
simply for daring not to be blinded by the dust attempted to be 
thrown in their eyes when the complaints of the weak-minded 
Mary could no longer be restrained. In one word, the amou :s 
of the royal champion of Protestantism were simply disgus > 
ing ; compounded at once of brutalism and depravity, notwith 
standing the cant and courtliness of Burnet, who cannot deny 
the facts which he and others were dishonest enough to palliatt , 
although their inherent passion for gossip prevented tie 
maintenance of a somewhat less undignified silence. Thomas 
Ken, afterwards the famous nonjuror, made some effort o i 
behalf of at least external morals, even when William ha<l 
kicked the communion-table in the chapel, or rather prayer- 
room of his consort, to curry favour with the nonconformist \ 
in England. One of the gay favourites at court had seduced .1 
young lady in the train of Mary through a promise of marriage, 
which Ken compelled him to perform, and for which the prince 
got rid of so rigid a chaplain with all conceivable expedition 
Yet nothing would bring the genuine truth home to the con 
sciences of Puritanism and Whiggery. They went forward 
plotting in the name of Protestantism, now against Charles, 
at least as to his worthless and disgraceful policy, then againgt 
the heir-apparent, and always against the religion of both 
sometimes on behalf of Monmouth, and then again in favoui 
* William, who managed to reap the real harvest from their 
advances, partly through his superior artifice and abilities, as 



King William III. i93 

also from the visible and palpable unsuitability of an instru 
ment, so vile and wretched as the bastard of Lucy Walters. 

It is notorious at the present day, however the Orange- 
party contrived to conceal the truth from the bulk of their 
contemporaries, that William secretly promoted the unjust 
scheme of excluding the Duke of York from succeeding to 
the throne of the Stuarts. Van Lewen was his agent in treat 
ing with Charles ; and Frymans undertook to open clandestine 
negotiations with the country leaders, as they were termed, 
in Parliament. Godolphin, Sunderland, Hyde, and others, 
were effectually won over to enlist themselves in nefarious 
intrigues, subsequently developing into the revolution of A.D. 
1688. On one occasion, in the summer of A.D. 1681, the 
prince came over to England, under the specious pretext of 
prevailing with Charles to unite himself in an alliance with 
Spain and the States against the encroachments of France. 
Nothing could be more popular, with a certain class of par 
tisans, than this timely visit. His antechambers in London 
became to him what the cave of Adullam was to David : 
u Convenerunt ad eum omnes, qui erant in angustia consti- 
tuti, etoppressi sere alieno, et amaro animo ; et factus est 
eorum princeps" (1 7?eg-.xxii. ). The merry monarch mean 
while suspected nothing ; but even pressed him to return agai?> 
the following year, when there occurred an opportunity of his 
meeting James, which William decidedly declined, as he did 
not think it at all for his peculiar interests in England to 
stand on good terms with his popish father-in-law. His game 
was of a deeper nature ; for even with the Duke of Monmouth 
and the Earl of Argyle he dealt as much as he dared. On 
the peaceful accession of James, an external reconciliation 
ensued between the new sovereign and his nephew, more par 
ticularly after the victory at Sedgemoor ; but in fact these 
near relatives only disguised, or rather, endeavoured to dis 
guise, their cordial mistrust of each other, beneath worthless 
expression of the warmest attachment. It became a struggle 
between two masters in mendacity, as to which of them could 
push into general circulation the greatest amount of false pro 
fessions. James was in possession of the prize : William 



194: King William HI. 

gasped for it in secret expectancy. The precise mode, indeed, 
in which it fell to him at last perhaps took him by surprise ; 
since it was impossible for him to conceive that any religious 
convictions whatsoever should exist among princes, except as 
stepping- stones to power. When, therefore, his antagonist 
really held fast to the Catholic faith, in the face of certain 
political failure, the astonishment of the vigilant stadtholder 
seemed only exceeded by his satisfaction. The machinery for 
effecting an ultimate realisation of his hopes had been prepar 
ing for several years : his favourite counsellors, Fagel, Ben- 
tinck, and Halweyn, were in the closest correspondence willi 
the foreign enemies and domestic traitors of the King of 
England; the six British regiments, in the pay of Holland, 
were weeded of every officer and private refusing to be subser 
vient to William ; rumours were carefully spread that Jam( 3 
intended to sot aside the hereditary rights of Mary in f avoi r 
of the Princess Anne, upon condition of her secession from 
Protestantism ; or, if that were out of the question, his ille 
gitimate son, the popish Duke of Berwick, would be the sub 
stitute ; but the Prince of Orange could never have imagine 1 
beforehand that his royal father-in-law would draw togethei , 
with incredible diligence, the very elements for achieving his 
own ruin and dethronement. When at length he really beheLl 
and this passing before his eyes, he only marvelled at tho 
kindness of fortune. Smiles and flatteries were lavished on 
his doomed rival with greater profusion than before ; embassy 
followed upon embassy, attesting the filial submission am: 
obedience, nowhere else so rife or edifying as at the Hague 
whilst, at the same time, Dutch agents dug a thousand mines 
of mischief throughout the upper, middle, and lower classes ir 
this country ; charging them with the gun-powder of anti- 
Catholic prejudices, identified as such errors unhappily hap 
pened to be, at that crisis, with the love ot liberty and attach 
ment to an ancient constitution. Not leb* crafty and energetic 
were the efforts of William to get Anne into his possession, 
well aware that her strength of mind was about as small as 
that of his consort, her sister Mary. It was through an appa 
rently accidental alteration of plan, on the part, of James, that 




LI 

King William III. 

he was thwarted ; although the subsequent treason of tlie 
Church ills more than atoned for the temporary disappointment. 
In fact, madness and folly hurried forward the ultimate catas 
trophe with an abundant sufficiency of precipitation. 

His majesty had despatched William Penn, the Quaker, to 
pound his son-in-law as to whether he would sanction an abo 
lition of the Test Act, in connection with at least some modi 
fication of the other penal oppressions against both Catholics 
and Dissenters. Now the prince had at that precise moment 
two parties with whom he wished to stand particularly well : 
namely, the Emperor of Germany and the King of Spain, his 
grand allies against France, on the one hand ; and his own 
Protestant adherents in England, who were to support his 
pretensions to the royal prerogative of James, on the other. 
His highness, therefore, presented himself to the former as the 
main supporter of monarchy within the British islands, the 
existence of which would be imperilled, were he not to support 
the Test Act against Popery ; since its relaxation, he told 
them, would let in the Dissenters to supreme power, who were 
all bitter republicans. IJyckveldt, his ambassador, cajoled the 
latter, by assuring them, that the Prince of Orange would 
never submit to any measures not perfectly agreeable to tke 
paramount interests of Protestantism. Honesty and straight 
forwardness might well be lost in amazement at the profound 
duplicity with which each faction was duped in its turn, so 
only that all would but unite in the single object of advancing 
the political projects of the stadtholder. Anglicans were 
taught to believe that he would never weaken the ascendency 
of an establishment which had rescued from Rome, and in 
tended to hold fast, such good things as opulent bishoprics 
with empty cathedrals, large livings with small duties, tithes, 
emoluments, rank, prestige, position, peerages, and parso 
nages, to say nothing of a clergy with wives, and a laity re 
lieved from the restrictions of superstitious discipline. Non 
conformists had a rather more difficult dose to swallow, so that 
it had to be sweetened with the greater caution and subtlety : 
cosi a F egro fanciul porgiomo aspersi di soavc licor gli 
i del vaso. They were assured that, under the rose, 



196 King William III. 

William could not bear episcopacy, however necessary it might 
become to him that he should trample upon his predilections 
for the sake of saving Dissenters from another series of fires 
in Smithfield ; but they were respectfully advised to keep aloof 
from the contest for the present, and receive from the successor 
of James a more legal and permanent toleration. Some lumps 
of sugar were even thrown out to the Catholics themselves, in 
the shape of whispered promises, that if they would only 
deserve it by their conduct, they might find in a Dutch de 
liverer the best protection from the future vengeance of their 
enemies. Dyckreldt, in the meantime, faithful to his instruc 
tions from the prince, lost no opportunity of learning the 
genuine spirit of the army and navy, the state of the roy;il 
finances, the respective positions of parties, the wishes of 
various sections in the population ; thus fulfilling to a nicety 
the objects of his mission, which was that of an accredited spy 
behind the screen, and armed with the privileges of an ostei- 
sible ambassador. Zuyleistein followed in the same footsteps , 
and with similar results. Upon the perverse obstinacy an 1 
judicial blindness of the lawful sovereign counsel and remon 
strance were alike urged in vain. The Catholic peers at this 
period were the Duke of Berwick, the Marquis of Powys, tha 
Earls of Salisbury, Peterborough, Portland, Cardigan, and 
Derwentwater, the Viscount Montague, the Lords Abergavenny , 
Audley, Steurton, Hunsdon, Petre, Gerard of Bromley, Arun 
del of Wardour, Teynham, Carrington, Widdrington, Belasyse, 
Langdale, Clifford, Jermyn of Dover, an Waldegrave. No, 
one of them could help listening to the roar of those breaker* 
ahead, which Pope Innocent XI. foresaw, and kindly condes 
cended to indicate. A letter written by Fagel at this time, 
and published as a state-paper, in Dutch, French, English, and 
Latin, of which 45,000 copies were circulated in these king 
doms, was considered as the composition of William himself. 
Lingard most correctly remarks upon it, that by its tone of 
deceitful moderation, " the Pope, the Emperor, and other Ca 
tholic powers, were all of them brought to imagine that 
William was prepared to grant to their co-religionists in Great 
Britain and Ireland every indulgence which they were entitled 



King William III. 197 

to expect ; whilst, by pointing out to the British Protestants 
the prince and princess as defenders of the Test Act, it con 
stituted them in effect the leaders of that party. On the one 
hand, it allayed the jealousy of his allies ; on the other, it 
encouraged the timid amongst his friends, confirmed the 
wavering, and stimulated all to resistance and exertion." 

Some Catholics, not well informed as to the mysteries of 
diplomacy towards the close of the seventeenth century, have 
expressed wonder at. the countenance which the court of 
Rome in reality gave to the machinations of the Dutch stadt- 
Lolder. The fact, however, was, that for many years the 
bitterest enemy to the Church of Almighty God had been 
no other than the House of Bourbon, with Louis XIV., the 
grand monarque of Europe, at its head. It is no less melan 
choly than true, that the pretended patron of what have been 
styled the Gallican liberties, not merely insulted the Holy 
Father of Christendom in his own capital, but grievously per 
secuted genuine Catholicity throughout those vast dominions 
over which he ruled with a rod of iron. Both Innocent and 
his successor Alexander VIH. braved his fury and insolence 
in the true spirit of good shepherds over the flock of Jesus 
Christ. The French king had presumed to invade the papal 
prerogatives, and appoint prelates to their sees independently 
of the Chair of St. Peter. With the cordial approbation of 
all sound divines, the Popes refused them institution : so that 
a fourth part of the dioceses of France had merely nominal 
bishops, incapable of performing episcopal functions. The 
entire policy of the tyrant, during a considerable interval, 
realized what Sallust says of the latter Romans; proinde quasi 
injuriamfacere, id demum esset imperio uti. To such arro 
gance it was necessary to set bounds ; for not only was Louis 
aiming at universal secular as well as spiritual dominion, but 
he was suspending the operation of sacraments, and urging 
his wretched subjects to the verge of open schism. His Holi 
ness therefore called in a Dutch cat to extirpate Gallican 
vermin, without in the least vouchsafing any sanction to the 
naturally wicked propensities of Grimalkin. William was to 
an immense and most useful extent the enemy to the enemies 

20 



198 King William HI. 

of St. Peter ; whose representatives, in consequence, stroked 
him with their temporary patronage, from his ears to his tail, 
as the cunning contriver of the League of Augsburg, which 
brought Louis at last to his senses. Towards James the ut 
most commiseration was always manifested, falling, as he ha l 
done, through his own fault and folly, from an altitude where, 
had he been able to retain his position, he would have pro 
bably proved a tool of France, another sword in the hands o:: 
her already too powerful sovereign, as well as a thorn in the 
side of orthodox and genuine Catholicity. Misfortune, whilst 
it contributed to mend his private character, could never teach 
him any substantial amount of wisdom ; so that to the end oi 
his days he illustrated the proverb of Solomon : Si contudcrvc 
stultum in pila, non auferetur ab eo stultitia ejus. Ne- 
rertheless he latterly shone in his adversity as a luminary or 
religion and morals, compared with his competitor, whose 
prosperity, founded upon artifice and slander, never failed tc 
betray its origin ; nor could remorse of conscience remain al 
together extinguished, even amidst the splendours of tin. 
purple, or the plaudits of Protestant nations. 

History solemnly avouches that, necessary as the revolution 
of A. D. 1688 might have become, it was brought about, so 
far as William was personally concerned, as much by feline 
contrivances as by the more noble exercise of courage, energy, 
and astuteness. It was by a ladder of lies that the stadthol- 
der ascended his throne, planted upon Protestant prejudices, 
and supported by a combination of circumstances. Forged 
correspondence between the Jesuit fathers Petre and La- Chaise, 
relative to the designs of Catholic sovereigns in general, and 
those of Louis and James in particular, emanated on a large 
scale from the Hague ; inflaming public apprehension with the 
most absurd vagaries and chimeras. It was averred in these 
false documents, that the rights of freedom, property, and 
conscience, were all about to be sacrificed at the feet of the 
Apostolic Church ; and that from Holland alone could safety 
be sought for, in the persons of William and Mary. The 
queen of James, at this crisis, was declared pregnant, being the 
favourable answer from heaven to a maternal vow made at 



King William HI. 199 

Loretto to Our Blessed Lady. From that moment, an ocean 
of slander seemed to rise up, and overflow the land with its 
Stygian deluge. Delicacy, not to say decency, vanished from 
the mind of Mary towards her own father and mother-in-law. 
It would disgust the purlieus of Covent Garden or Drury Lane 
to wade through the pamplets, pasquinades, and multiplied 
publicatious, levelled at all that is most dear, tender, and sa 
cred in the conjugal or domestic relation. At length Maria 
d Este reached her hour of trial, violated and outraged as it 
was to be by the falsehood of the warming-pan story. It wag 
affirmed by grave divines calling themselves bishops, as also 
by statesmen then willing to be styled champions of Protes 
tantism, that a supposititious Prince of Wales was introduced 
into the royal bed, and passed off as an imposture upon the 
British people. Both Burnet and William rendered themselves 
direct accomplices in this nefarious yet successful fable ; for it 
figures prominently in the memorial pretended to be presented 
to the United Provinces from the persecuted Protestants in 
England, which Burnet in reality composed, and which the 
Prince of Orange suggested and promoted. It is notorious, 
also, that neither of these personages for one moment believed 
it, at the time when the. celebrated invitation arrived, calling 
upon William and Mary to come over, and pluck the crown 
from the brow of their once indulgent parent. Meanwhile 
every engine of art and intrigue had been set in motion to 
rouse the passions of the populace into a state of frenzy. Mo 
derate men felt themselves condemned to silence, simply through 
fear of a fate like that of John and Cornelius de Witt ; and 
unfortunately the most inflammatory libels acquired a portion 
of their force and popularity from the aspect of foreign affairs 
abroad, not less than from the madness and fatuity of a dis 
solving government at home. The result is too well known to 
need a recapitulation in these pages. 

But what we want to record is simply the genuine nature of 
Whiggery, in for ever falling down and worshipping such a 
hero as William. Is it that the latter is neither more nor less 
than an impersonation of the former? We much fear sc. 
The Prince of Orange mounted the throne of these realms, 



200 King William III. 

amongst other purposes, to purify the various departments of 
administration. With a thousand pretences of doing so, he 
pensioned Titus Gates, and appointed the legal adviser of that 
worthy to the confidential and lucrative post of solicitor to the 
Treasury. Corruption in high places thenceforward became 
an organised system, of bribes to members of parliament, and 
all that mysterious disposal of patronage, secret-service money, 
or dispensation of golden ointment, which served as a salve to 
sore consciences in bringing the Lower House under the ma 
nagement of the minister. What is to be said of the artful 
manner with which William balanced one section of concealed 
political thieves against another Tories against Whigs, or 
Whigs against Tories, right honourable robbers and scounc- 
rels every one of them, and who would have been described is 
such, had they not worn coronets upon their heads, and been 
wrapped in robes of scarlet, ermine, or fine linen ? The pre 
decessors of William had shown themselves negligent in their 
royal duties, in giving orders without due consideration, an, I 
then sheltering their agents behind the broad buckler of their 
prerogative. But what shall be said of the massacre at 
Glencoe, merely as a specimen of what we mean, and taking 
the merciful view of it, that the whole catastrophe was an ac 
cident? Here we have an acute, laborious, constitutional 
sovereign signing a paper without reading it, but which in it 3 
operation sanctioned the commission of between thirty and 
forty distinct murders. " One or two women," says Macau 
lay, " were seen amongst the number, and a yet more fearful 
and piteous sight,- a little hand, which had been lopped hi 
the tumult of the butchery from some infant." The assassins , 
it must be remembered, had been enjoying for days and night 4 
all the rites of hospitality at the hands of their victims. A 
child only twelve years old, clinging round the legs of Captair, 
Glenlyon, was shot dead then and there by a ruffian named 
Drummond ; some of their hosts were actually dragged out of 
their beds, bound hand and foot, and slaughtered like sheep ; 
an old man above seventy, too infirm to fly, was found alive 
after the onset, and ruthlessly slain in cold blood ; the chief 
Mac Ian received a bullet in his head whilst getting up to order 



King William III. 201 

the breakfast for his dastardly murderers, whom he had been 
entertaining as his guests ; his wife dying the next day, through 
the violence of the soldiers, one of whom tore away the golden 
rings from her fingers with his teeth! These sanguinary 
crimes were perpetrated under a royal order from King Wil 
liam, subscribed, his apologists say, through an error to which 
he was frequently liable ; even Burnet mentioning, that his 
majesty had the dreadful habit of suffering matters to run on 
" till there was a great heap of papers, when he suddenly- 
signed them as much too fast as he was before too slow in 
despatching them." Macaulay doubts his procrastination, but 
coolly observes, that feeling an interest in continental affairs 
exclusively, " he attended to English business less, but to 
Scotch business the least of all." When this dreadful affair 
had actually happened, the entire blame was meanly thrown 
upon the Master of Stair ; and still more meanly, when public 
indignation demanded punishment, William, finding it incon 
venient to visit with heavy penalties so high a functionary, 
beyond dismissing him from ofiice, permitted the storm to fall 
upon the humbler instruments ; thus endeavouring to stifle 
the matter with a real act of indemnity as to himself and his 
favourites : 

" So little villains must submit to fate, 
That large ones may enjoy the world in state." 

But. the Prince of Orange was enthroned, we are told, to 
save the constitution, limit royal prerogatives, establish mi 
nisterial responsibility, suppress standing armies, and blot 
out that scandal in our commercial history of the Stuarts having 
once shut up the Exchequer. Whatever the great fact of the 
Revolution itself may have more or less indirectly achieved, it 
is only fair to glance at what was the personal conduct of its 
mighty leader. Surely his genuine regard for the British 
constitution bore about that proportion to his selfishness which 
the dry bread of Sir John Falstaff did to the quantity of sack 
which he imbibed. To what had William sworn more 
solemnly than to the Bill of Rights, which declared that, without 
consent of Parliament, the maintenance of military forces was 
to be thenceforward illegal ? Yet we find him coolly and deli- 



202 King William III. 

berately, in A.D. 1697, when the Commons had reduced the 
troops to 10,000, leaving sealed orders with his ministers, be 
fore he went to Holland, that 16,000 men should be kept up, 
orders which those ministers, professedly responsible to parlia 
ment alone, as unconstitutionally obeyed. What pickpocket 
ever cut a purse, we would ask, with greater nonchalance than 
William displayed in his appropriation of the immense Iruh 
forfeitures, of which he granted away a million of acres, con 
trary to his solemn promises, for the mere enrichment of foreign 
favourites, male and female ; one of them the hideous court 
esan whom he had created Countess of Orkney? What can le 
said of his perpetually acting as his own minister, with as much 
arbitrariness as Louis or the Emperor, in foreign affairs, except 
that, as the British kingdoms sometimes love to be deluded, they 
were thus gratified to the top of their bent throughout a Ion 5 
series of years ? So also, instead of shutting up an exchequer, 
he left his successors and their subjects the rather dubious 
blessing of a national debt, which exceeded in its origin about 
twenty times the iniquity of the Cabal, and has grown in ou^ 
times to the amount of eight hundred millions sterling*. To 
all which must be added the introduction of a permanent ex 
cise upon the system still existing, and which has swollen into 
colossal dimensions as to mere extent, and which rivals the la 
byrinth of Crete in its deceptive sinuosities and ramifications 
To the Protestant deliverer we are still further indebted for 
the use of hollands, or that vile form of alcohol which ha* 
summoned from the infernal pit our gorgeous gin-palaces : 
where the house of the harlot opens " the way to hell, reach 
ing even to the inner chambers of death." 

But above all other objects was the British sceptre consigned 
to the care of William if we may believe the hollow voice of 
patriotism and nonconformity that the rights of conscience 
might be at rest for ever from secular interference, as well as 
the oppression of penal laws. Translated into the language 
of truth, this statement means, that the Catholic Church of 
Almighty God was to be bound, were it possible, naked and 
helpless to the rock of Protestant prejudice, where, like the 
exposed Androniede of antiquity, she might become a prey to 



King William III. 203 

the monsters of tlie deep. Religious toleration, it cannot be 
too often repeated, signified, in the mouth of the Revolution 
of A.D. 1688, yt^ this and no more. Witness the violation 
of the Treaty of Limerick, and the acts passed by the crowned 
Dissenter against Roman Catholics. What renders his con 
duct in this respect so much worse is, that he had actually 
incurred obligations to his Catholic allies, when standing in 
need of their assistance, that he would really relieve the faith 
ful children of the Church, so soon as he had the power to do 
so ; nor, moreover, should it be omitted, that these breaches 
of honour occurred against the light of his internal convictions, 
based upon his own individual knowledge and experience. 
He had come to learn that the traditional policy of his family 
was the sound and right one to adopt ; his Dutch armies were 
always in great measure composed of Catholics ; many of that 
profession had served under him in his invasion of England, 
on the faith of his professions given, or at least implied, to 
their officers ; he had now and then, in earlier days, even played 
with the dulness of James himself, in secretly declaring, when 
ever there seemed something to gain by it, that the penal per 
secutions of papists ought in reality to be repealed. Yet, 
after the Peace of Ryswick, some few priests having come 
over, King William assented to the statute against the growth 
of Popery, A. D. 1700, which Ilallam, in the full fervours of 
Whiggery, cannot forbear denominating as " disgraceful." 
Its admitted aim was to expel the Catholic proprietors of land, 
comprising many very ancient and wealthy families, by ren 
dering it necessary for them to sell their estates. It offers a 
reward of 100/. to any informer against an ecclesiastic exer 
cising his functions, and adjudges the penalty to the party in 
orders of perpetual imprisonment. " It requires every person 
educated in the popish religion, or professing the same, within 
six months after he shall attain the age of eighteen years, to 
take the oaths of allegiance and supremacy, and subscribe the 
declaration set down in the act of Charles II. against transub- 
stantiation and the worship of saints," in other words, to 
apostatise from the faith ; in default of which he stands inca 
pacitated, not only from purchasing, but from inheriting or 



204 King William III. 

taking lands under any devise or limitation whatsoever. The 
next of kin, being a Protestant, teas to enjoy all such 
estates during his life. This measure existed for fourscore 
years : a mere specimen of the code of persecution which 
William of Nassau knew to be wrong, yet which he sanctioned, 
after oaths and protestations to the contrary, as being right. 
And lo, this is the monarch whose usurpation the Anglican 
liturgy commemorates as an era of deliverance from thraldon, 
although he had no belief in its doctrines, or admiration for its 
discipline ; whilst his name survives as a watchword for bi 
gotry, when it can do so with impunity, to abuse for the 
worst purposes of Toryism ; nor less as a theme for the eulog j 
of such reviewers or historians as the Right Hon. Thom:is 
Babington Macaulay. Notwithstanding the benefits which 
resulted from the rejection of the Stuarts and they are not -;o 
be denied we nevertheless are bold to affirm, that the boasUd 
Revolution of A.D. 1688, looking at the spirit in which it 
came unhappily to be accomplished, constituted, or rather invo - 
red, an enormous fraud upon the credulity of these kingdoms. 
It originated from necessity ; but was founded, as well as fasl - 
ioned, upon the most thorough misrepresentation and hype - 
crisy. Instead of emancipating nations, it enthroned at fir. t 
a usurper, and then an aristocracy ; the latter as selfish and 
unprincipled as the artful stadtholder himself. The peerage 
from that moment, either through their own Chamber or the 
Lower House, to which in effect they could generally nominate 
a majority, at once trampled upon the liberties of the lower 
classes, and dictated their own terms to the crown. Nordil 
they care to imitate either the profound policy of Solon i \ 
Greece, or the just arrangements of Servius Tullius at Rome. 
Taxation was arranged so as to press lightly upon the rich and 
heavily upon the poor. Meanwhile government has presented, 
for a century and a half, a series of shams, illusions, shifts, and 
juggles. Its system formed an immense procession of little 
nesses and low impostures, dependent for success upon ignor 
ance, prejudice, falsehood, and calumny; base crawling artifice ; 
constituting the very spiders and centipedes of human politics 
Bishop Burnet may be said to lead the march, with his warm- 



The, Reformation in Ireland. 205 

ing-pan flourishing in the air ; whilst Lord John Russell and 
the Earl of Derby bring up the rear, the one with his Dur 
ham Letter, and the other with his proclamation against the 
appearance of religious habits in public. Their master, King 
William, by whom they are always ready to swear, must be 
content to take his place in impartial history as one of the 
most royal rascals that ever reigned. 



A CHAPTER IN THE HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 
IN IRELAND. 

Elizabeth s first Irish Parliament. 

( From the Rambler. ) 

IN discussions on the re-settlement of Church property in 
Ireland, advocates of the Established Church frequently assert 
that this property was transferred to its present uses by an act 
of the Irish nation assembled in Parliament in the second 
year of Elizabeth, January 12, 1559-60. The Irish Bishops, 
it is maintained, were present ; and not only did not oppose 
the spoliation of the Catholic Church, but conformed very 
generally to the Anglican heresy. A settlement of this his 
torical question can influence very slightly, we fear, the con 
flicting claims of the rival Churches at the present day. If 
one hundred Irish legislators voted the establishment of Pro 
testantism three hundred years ago, their votes cannot prove 
that the Irish Church has not been ever since an injustice un 
paralleled in the annals of nations, civilised or savage ; if 
these legislators did not vote its establishment, if the Irish 
statutes of 1560 never received their assent, Drs. Whately and 
Beresford would not, therefore, be more easily induced to 
resign their princely palaces and broad acres to the nation, 
much less to Archbishops Cullen and Dixon. If, then, we un 
dertake to discuss the point, it is purely as a matter of his 
tory ; and we shall the more carefully abstain from exaggera 
tion or vituperation, as we think we have something important 
to communicate, not generally known to our readers. 



206 rf Chapter in the History of the 

An act of Parliament, old or new, is a very good thing 
when it falls in with our prejudices, and fills our pockets with 
money ; and Anglicans, therefore, very naturally cherish 
Elizabeth s first Irish Parliament as being the very keystone of 
their Church in that country. But they can throw a veil over 
the proceedings of that Church when opposed to acts of Par 
liament. They had no act of Parliament for their heresies 
introduced into the Irish Church by Edward VI. ; their first 
Bishops, Brown of Dublin, Staples of Meath, Bale of Ossory, 
and Casey of Limerick, took wives, not only against the canons 
of the Church, but also against an existing act of Parliament; 
Edward s heretical liturgy was introduced into a few Irish 
cathedrals in spite of all law both civil and ecclesiastical. All 
these innovations were brougth about solely by the autho 
rity of a king s letter in council ; nor has any Anglican write T 
ever attempted to assign any other sanction for them. Elizt - 
beth herself, before she ever summoned an Irish Parliament;, 
commanded her English servants in Ireland to use her liturgy 
in their houses, and by her high prerogative exempted them 
from impeachment for thus violating acts of Parliament aod 
the laws of the Church b ; and even though she had pursued 
this line of conduct uniformly to the end, though she had 
never summoned an Irish Parliament at all, but had robbed tie 
Church by a letter in council or by royal proclamation, TNC 
feel confident that her measures and her memory would have 
been just as zealously defended by those who now plead her 
acts of Parliament. And, for our own part, we think that the 
bolder would have been the better course ; for her Parliament y 
such as it was, only added fraud to force, treachery to tyrannj. 
It represented neither the nobility, nor the commonalty, nor 
the clergy of Ireland ; the great majority of those who are sail 
to have assisted at it never approved its enactments, or cer 
tainly never observed them ; it was not an act of the Irisii 



a Dr. Mant s History of the Church of Ireland, vol. i. pp. 188-192. 

6 Shirley s Original Letters, p. 90. These Letters, lately published (Londor , 
1851), confirm all that was generally believed of the uncanonical and purel r 
secular means adopted by Edward VI. to suppress the Catholic religion \.\ 
Ireland. 



Reformation in Ireland. 207. 

> 

nation ; and it left the Protestant clergy, what, for the most 
part, they have been ever since, chaplains to a garrison of 
English adventurers and landlords. Never, even for one hour 
during Elizabeth s reign, could they be called the clergy of the 
Irish people. Our adversaries themselves admit the truth of 
this assertion with regard to the last thirty years of her reign. 
In the following paper, therefore, we shall restrict ourselves 
to the first years, and shew that it is equally true of them also. 
And first, let us speak of the House of Commons in this 
vaunted Irish Parliament, which is said to have voted for the 
establishment of Protestantism. According to the .published 
list, ffl it consisted of seventy-six members ; twenty from ten 
counties, and fifty-six from twenty-eight cities or boroughs. 
There was no county member for any part of Ulster or Con- 
naught, though parts of both provinces had been represented 
in preceding Parliaments. These provinces, comprising fully 
one-half of Ireland, had only six borough members ; two from 
Carrickfergus, and two each from Galway and Athenry. Of 
the six counties of Munster, two only were represented, 
namely, Tipperary and Watcrford ; and even in Leinster, four 
of the present counties, namely, the King s and Queen s 
Counties, Longford, and Wicklow, were not represented. 
Thus the county representation in this Parliament included 
little more than one-fourth of the island. Of the borough 
members the great majority were returned from places in eight 
Leinster counties. Munster sent only sixteen members, from 
Cork, Waterford, Limerick, Dungarvan, Youghall, Fethard, 
Clonmel, and Kinsale ; while Leinster sent thirty-four mem 
bers from seventeen boroughs or cities. Thus, of the whole 
representatives in the Commons, two- thirds were returned 
from a part only of the present province of Leinster. Will 
any one pretend that the votes of such a Parliament can with 
any propriety be considered the will of the Commons of 
Ireland? 

Moreover, if it is true that these members consented to the 
establishment of the Protestant religion, it can only have been 

a, Tracts relating to Ireland, vol. ii. p. 135. Irish Archaeological Society. 



208 Jl Chapter in the History of the 

in order that both themselves and their constituents might 
have the luxury of violating all the enactments which they are 
said to have made ; for, according to these enactments, attend 
ance at the Protestant worship was prescribed under penalty 
of fine, the Catholic worship was prohibited, and the oath of 
supremacy required as a qualification for all offices, both civil 
and religious. Now, in the first place, attendance at Protest 
ant worship was simply an impossibility in all the counties, 
except half the counties of Louth, Meath, Dublin, and Kildaie, 
beyond which the Irish language alone was understood. T.ae 
Protestant Prayer-book was not translated into that language/ 
The reformers, it is true, convicted themselves of dishonesty 
by dispensing in what they said was God s law ; they sanction 
ed the translation of the Prayer-book into Latin (an unknov n 
tongue) for the use of those places in which the English w;is 
not understood ; but even this self-convicted imposture was 
not carried into effect. If, then, the county members voted 
for this Protestant Prayer-book, they voted for what they 
knew was at the time an impossibility for their constituent }, 
and which continued so during the whole reign of Elizabeth. 
This argument does not apply with equal force to the borough, 1 ;, 
in some of which, especially in Leinster, the English language 
was understood ; and the Protestant service therefore W s 
possible, if the people wished to attend it. That they had DO 
such wish, however, is perfectly clear from the unexceptioi- 
able evidence of the first reformers themselves, who declaim 
against the blindness and obduracy of the Irish, with as muci 
pathos and violence as the most accredited organs of Englis i 
bigotry at the present day. Brown, Bishop of Dublin, com 
plained that the Irish were as zealous for the Papacy as th3 



a These half-counties were the English pale in 1515. The pale was becomin ; 
even more Irish in the course of Elizabeth s reign, if we may believe Englis. i 
writers. Craik, first Protestant bishop of Kildare, complains that even in tha^ 
diocese "neither I can preach to the people, nor the people understand me." 
Shirley, Original Letters, <$-c. p. 95. 

6 Irish types were sent over in 1571; but the Irish Testament was not printed 
until 1603. 

c Shirley has proved that the " whole service of the Communion " had beei 
translated into Latin, by order of the Lord Deputy, in the year 1549 or 1550 
:.tnd that it was hia intention to have it speedily printed. Original Letters, p. 47 
L ut there is no proof that this intention was carried into effect. 




Reformation in Ireland. 

saints and martyrs ever were for the truth. a Cromwell s* name 
was as odious to their ears as that of his too-famous namesake 
Oliver was to their descendants ; and they gave an unequivocal 
testimony of their detestation of his measures by preserving 
the Church and monastic lands of three provinces for their 
lawful owners, notwithstanding Henry s confiscations and 
grants. 6 Bale of Ossory, another of those so-called reformers, 
who was sustained in Kilkenny during Edward s reign by the 
trimming Ormondes and the influence of government, was 
hunted from the city as soon as Edward s death was known. 
The old canons of St. Canice purified the cathedral, " flung up 
their caps to the battlements of the great temple " in the 
exuberance of their joy, and issuing in procession from its 
portals, cheered the hearts of the citizens in the thronged 
streets with the Catholic melody, " Sancta Maria, ora pro 
nobis." c Staples, first Protestant Bishop of Meath, strikes 
the key-note of that lugubrious howl which his brethren have 
sustained during three centuries against the martyr- fidelity of 
the Irish Catholics : "A beneficed man of mine own promo 
tion," he writes, " came unto me weeping, and desired me that 
he might declare his mind unto me without my displeasure. 
I said I was well content. My lord, said he, before ye 
went last to Dublin you were the best-beloved man in your 
diocese that ever came into it, and now you are the worst- 
beloved that ever came here. I asked, why. Why, said 
he, for ye have taken open part with the state, that false 
heretic, and preached against the Sacrament of the Altar, and 
deny Saints, and will make us worse than Jews : if the country 
wiste ( knew how, ) they would eat you ; you have, he said, 



a Cox, Hibernia Anglicana, vol. iv. pp. 246-257. 

b "How many frere (friar) bowses and others reraayne using the old Papist* 
sort?" Answer. "All Munster, in effect,- Thomond, Connaght, and Ulster." 
State Papers, 1548, Append, Shirley, p. 22. 

c Bale s Vocation, " They rang all the bells in the cathedral, minster, and 
parish churches; they flung up their caps to the battlements of the great temple, 
with smilings and laughings most dissolutely ; they brought out their copes, 
candlesticks, holy-water stocks, crosses, and censers ; they mustered forth in 
general procession, most gorgeously, all the town over, with " Sancta Maria, ora 
pro nobis," and the rest of the Latin Litany. They chattered it, they chaunted 
it with great noise and devotion ; they banqueted all the day after, for that they 
were delivered from the grace of God to a warm sun." Mant, ii. p. 228. 



210 Jl Chapter in the History of the 

6 more curses than ye have hairs of your head ; and I advise 
you, for Christ s sake, not to preach at Navan, as I hear you 
will do. " a This letter was written before Christmas in rhe 
year 1548. If Staples did preach at Navan, it was his first 
and last Protestant sermon. To the day of his death he had 
more curses from his flock than hairs on his head. The na 
tional hostility to the reformed doctrines had in no degree 
been mitigated. The Lord Deputy, Sept. 27, 1550, " neA r er 
saw the land so far out of good order ; for there is this three 
years no kind of divine service, neither Communion nor yet 
other service ; having but one sermon made in that time, 
which the Bishop of Meath made, who had so little reverer.ce 
at that time, as he had no great haste eftsones to preach 
there " b From numerous other evidences, too copious to be 
cited here, it is manifest that through the whole of Edwarc. s 
reign the Anglo-Irish spurned the Reformation, and with 10 
exception. If, therefore, a great change had not taken place, 
their representatives from the twenty-eight boroughs in tie 
Parliament of 1560 must have known that in voting the abo 
lition of the Catholic worship they were acting against the will 
of their constituents. But there is no evidence of any suoh 
change ; rather there is abundant evidence of the contrary ; 
and we shall see that the reformation effected by Elizabeth was 
that of Robespierre and Marat, the suppression of all public 
worship in some parts of Ireland. 

We have said that the three principal enactments of tLe 
Parliament of 1560 concerned the oath of supremacy, attend 
ance at Protestant service, and the abolition of the Cathol c 
worship. We will speak of each of these in turn-; and flirt 
with regard to the oath of supremacy. So far from comply - 
ing with this leading point of the reformed enactments, tie 
boroughs continued during the whole reign of Elizabeth to 
retain the old Catholic oath; it alone, and no other, was ad 
ministered to their civic officers. And it must be remem 
bered that that oath was not a mere profession of civil alle- 



a, Shirley, Original Lettere; p. 24. 
b Ibid. p. 41. 



Reformation in Ireland. 211 

giance ; it was also a profession of the Catholic faith, and 
renounced and execrated all heresies and schisms contrary to 
that faith. We do not deny but that now and then some 
slippery aspirant for corporate honours may not have paid his 
court to the crown by taking the oath of supremacy against 
his conscience ; but we repeat what was asserted at the time, 
without contradiction, by Catholic writers, a and what the bo 
roughs themselves asserted when James I. required the same 
oath, namely, that during the whole reign of Elizabeth the 
oath of civic officers was the old Catholic oath that had been 
in use before the reign of Henry VHI. The truth is, that 
Elizabeth more than once checked the imprudence of some of 
her over- zealous officers when they wished to enforce the new 
oath ; b for all the boroughs and cities, without exception, were 
loyal to her throne, against the old, or, as they were called, 
the " wylde" Irish, and she could not afford to drive them to 
desperation, and was compelled therefore, for the time, to be 
satisfied. 

The enactment which enjoined attendance on the Protes 
tant service met with no better fate than that which concerned 
the oath of supremacy. From the temper of the public mind 
in religious matters, as shewn already, during the reign of 
Edward VI. ; from the bitter complaints of the English 
governors against the Irish Bishops, as " blynd and obstinate 
bishops," for not introducing the English Prayer-book, it is 
antecedently in the highest degree improbable that t