Every one foresaw the end of this piteous trial. One of Bilney’s friends endeavored to save him. Latimer took the matter into the pulpit, and conjured the judges to decide according to justice. Although Bilney’s name was not uttered, they all knew who was meant. The Bishop of London went and complained to the king that his chaplain had the audacity to defend the heretic against the bishop and his judges.[[152]] ‘There is not a preacher in the world,’ said Latimer, ‘who would not have spoken as I have done, although Bilney had never existed.’ The chaplain escaped once more, thanks to the favor he enjoyed with Henry.
Bilney was condemned, and, after being degraded by the priests, was handed over to the sheriff, who, having great respect for his virtues, begged pardon for discharging his duty. The prudent bishop wrote to the chancellor, asking for an order to burn the heretic. ‘Burn him first,’ rudely answered More, ‘and then ask me for a bill of indemnity.’[[153]]
Bilney With His Friends.
A few of Bilney’s friends went to Norwich to bid him farewell: among them was Parker, Archbishop of Canterbury. It was in the evening, and Bilney was taking his last meal. On the table stood some frugal fare (ale brew), and on his countenance beamed the joy that filled his soul. ‘I am surprised,’ said one of his friends, ‘that you can eat so cheerfully.’—‘I only follow the example of the husbandmen of the county,’ answered Bilney, ‘who, having a ruinous house to dwell in, yet bestow cost so long as they may hold it up.’ With these words he rose from the table, and sat down near his friends, one of whom said to him: ‘To-morrow the fire will make you feel its devouring fierceness, but God’s Holy Spirit will cool it for your everlasting refreshing.’ Bilney, appearing to reflect upon what had been said, stretched out his hand towards the lamp that was burning on the table, and placed his finger in the flame. ‘What are you doing?’ they exclaimed. ‘Nothing,’ he replied; ‘I am only trying my flesh. To-morrow God’s rods shall burn my whole body in the fire.’ And, still keeping his finger in the flame, as if he were making a curious experiment, he continued: ‘I feel that fire by God’s ordinance is naturally hot; but yet I am persuaded, by God’s Holy Word and the experience of the martyrs, that when the flames consume me I shall not feel them. Howsoever, this stubble of my body shall be wasted by it, a pain for the time is followed by joy unspeakable.’[[154]] He then withdrew his finger, the first joint of which was burnt. He added, ‘When thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burnt.’[[155]] ‘These words remained imprinted on the hearts of all who heard them until the day of their death,’ says a chronicler.
Beyond the city gate—that known as the Bishop’s gate—was a low valley, called the Lollards’ pit: it was surrounded by rising ground, forming a sort of amphitheatre. On Saturday, the 19th of August, a body of javelin-men came to fetch Bilney, who met them at the prison gate. One of his friends approaching and exhorting him to be firm, Bilney replied: ‘When the sailor goes on board his ship and launches out into the stormy sea, he is tossed to and fro by the waves; but the hope of reaching a peaceful haven makes him bear the danger. My voyage is beginning, but whatever storms I shall feel, my ship will soon reach the port.’[[156]]
Bilney passed through the streets of Norwich in the midst of a dense crowd; his demeanor was grave, his features calm. His head had been shaved, and he wore a layman’s gown. Dr. Warner, one of his friends, accompanied him; another distributed liberal alms all along the route. The procession descended into the Lollards’ pit, while the spectators covered the surrounding hills. On arriving at the place of punishment, Bilney fell on his knees and prayed, and then rising up, warmly embraced the stake and kissed it.[[157]] Turning his eyes towards heaven, he next repeated the Apostles’ Creed, and when he confessed the incarnation and crucifixion of the Saviour his emotion was such that even the spectators were moved. Recovering himself, he took off his gown, and ascended the pile, reciting the hundred and forty-third psalm. Thrice he repeated the second verse: ‘Enter not into judgment with thy servant for in thy sight shall no man living be justified.’ And then he added: ‘I stretch forth my hands unto thee; my soul thirsteth after thee.’ Turning towards the executioner, he said: ‘Are you ready?’—‘Yes,’ was the reply. Bilney placed himself against the post, and held up the chain which bound him to it. His friend Warner, with eyes filled with tears, took a last farewell. Bilney smiled kindly at him and said: ‘Doctor, pasce gregem tuum; feed your flock, that when the Lord cometh he may find you so doing.’ Several monks who had given evidence against him, perceiving the emotion of the spectators, began to tremble, and whispered to the martyr: ‘These people will believe that we are the cause of your death, and will withhold their alms,’ Upon which Bilney said to them: ‘Good folks, be not angry against these men for my sake; even should they be the authors of my death, it is not they.’[[158]] He knew that his death proceeded from the will of God. The torch was applied to the pile: the fire smouldered for a few minutes, and then suddenly burning up fiercely, the martyr was heard to utter the name of Jesus several times. A strong wind which blew the flames on one side prolonged his agony; thrice they seemed to retire from him, and thrice they returned, until at length, the whole pile being kindled, he expired.
Revolution In Men’s Mind.
A strange revolution took place in men’s minds after this death: they praised Bilney, and even his persecutors acknowledged his virtues. ‘Mother of Christ,’ exclaimed the Bishop of Norwich (it was his usual oath), ‘I fear I have burnt Abel and let Cain go.’ Latimer was inconsolable; twenty years later he still lamented his friend, and one day (preaching before Edward VI.) he called to mind that Bilney was always doing good, even to his enemies, and styled him ‘that blessed martyr of God.’[[159]]
One martyrdom was not sufficient for the enemies of the Reformation. Stokesley, Lee, Gardiner, and other prelates and priests, feeling themselves guilty towards Rome, which they had sacrificed to their personal ambition, desired to expiate their faults by sacrificing the reformers. Seeing at their feet a fatal gulf, dug between them and the Roman pontiff by their faithlessness, they desired to fill it up with corpses. The persecution continued.
There was at that time a pious evangelist in the dungeons of the Bishop of London. He was fastened upright to the wall, with chains round his neck, waist, and legs. Usually the most guilty prisoners were permitted to sit down, and even to lie on the floor; but for this man there was no rest. It was Richard Bayfield, accused of bringing from the continent a number of New Testaments translated by Tyndale.[[160]] When one of his gaolers told him of Bilney’s martyrdom, he exclaimed: ‘And I too, and hundreds of men with me, will die for the faith he has confessed.’ He was brought shortly afterwards before the episcopal court. ‘With what intent,’ asked Stokesley, ‘did you bring into the country the errors of Luther, Œcolampadius the great heretic, and others of that damnable sect?’—‘To make the Gospel known,’ answered Bayfield, ‘and to glorify God before the people.’[[161]] Accordingly, the bishop, having condemned and then degraded him, summoned the lord mayor and sheriffs of London, ‘by the bowels of Jesus Christ’ (he had the presumption to say), to do to Bayfield ‘according to the laudable custom of the famous realm of England.’[[162]] ‘O ye priests,’ said the gospeller, as if inspired by the Spirit of God, ‘is it not enough that your lives are wicked, but you must prevent the life according to the Gospel from spreading among the people?’ The bishop took up his crosier and struck Bayfield so violently on the chest that he fell backwards and fainted.[[163]] He revived by degrees, and said, on regaining his consciousness: ‘I thank God that I am delivered from the wicked church of Antichrist, and am going to be a member of the true Church which reigns triumphant in heaven.’ He mounted the pile; the flames touching him only on one side, consumed his left arm. With his right hand Bayfield separated it from his body, and the arm fell. Shortly after this he ceased to pray, because he had ceased to live.