With Henry, himself, the question of spiritual supremacy was soon changed, or merged (as the lawyers call it) into the exclusive consideration of adding to his wealth. The Visitors who had been deputed to inspect the abbies, and to draw up reports of the same (some of whom, by the bye, conducted themselves with sufficient baseness[307]), did not fail to inflame his feelings by the tempting pictures which they drew of the riches appertaining to these establishments.[308] Another topic was also strongly urged upon Henry's susceptible mind: the alleged abandoned lives of the owners of them. These were painted with a no less overcharged pencil:[309] so that nothing now seemed wanting but to set fire to the train of combustion which had been thus systematically laid.
[307] Among the visitors appointed to carry into execution the examination of the monasteries, was a Dr. London; who "was afterwards not only a persecutor of Protestants, but a suborner of false witnesses against them, and was now zealous even to officiousness in suppressing the monasteries. He also studied to frighten the abbess of Godstow into a resignation. She was particularly in Cromwell's favour:" &c. Burnet: Hist. of the Reformation, vol. iii., p. 132. Among Burnet's "Collection of Records," is the letter of this said abbess, in which she tells Cromwell that "Doctor London was suddenly cummyd unto her, with a great rout with him; and there did threaten her and her sisters, saying that he had the king's commission to suppress the house, spite of her teeth. And when he saw that she was content that he should do all things according to his commission, and shewed him plain that she would never surrender to his band, being her ancient enemy—then he began to entreat her and to inveigle her sisters, one by one, otherwise than ever she heard tell that any of the king's subjects had been handel'd;" vol. iii., p. 130. "Collection." It is not very improbable that this treatment of Godstow nunnery formed a specimen of many similar visitations. As to London himself, he ended his days in the Fleet, after he had been adjudged to ride with his face to the horse's tail, at Windsor and Oakingham. Fox in his Book of Martyrs, has given us a print of this transaction; sufficiently amusing. Dod, in his Church History, vol. i., p. 220, has of course not spared Dr. London. But see, in particular, Fuller's shrewd remarks upon the character of these visitors, or "emissaries;" Church History, b. vi., pp. 313, 314.
[308] "The yearly revenue of all the abbies suppressed is computed at £135,522l. 18s. 10d. Besides this, the money raised out of the stock of cattle and corn, out of the timber, lead, and bells; out of the furniture, plate, and church ornaments, amounted to a vast sum, as may be collected from what was brought off from the monastery of St. Edmonsbury. Hence, as appears from records, 5000 marks of gold and silver, besides several jewels of great value, were seized by the visitors." Collier's Ecclesiastical History, vol. ii., 165. See also Burnet's similar work, vol. i., p. 223. Collier specifies the valuation of certain monasteries, which were sufficiently wealthy; but he has not noticed that of St. Swithin's in Winchester—of which Strype has given so minute and interesting an inventory. A lover of old coins and relics may feed his imagination with a gorgeous picture of what might have been the "massive silver and golden crosses and shrines garnished with stones"—but a tender-hearted bibliomaniac will shed tears of agony on thinking of the fate of "a book of the four evangelists, written al with gold; and the utter side of plate of gold!" Life of Cranmer, Appendix, pp. 24-28.
[309] The amiable and candid Strype has polluted the pages of his valuable Ecclesiastical Memorials with an account of such horrid practices, supposed to have been carried on in monasteries, as must startle the most credulous Anti-Papist; and which almost leads us to conclude that a legion of fiends must have been let loose upon these "Friar Rushes!" The author tells us that he takes his account from authentic documents—but these documents turn out to be the letters of the visitors; and of the character of one of these the reader has just had a sufficient proof. Those who have the work here referred to, vol. i., p. 256-7, may think, with the author of it, that "this specimen is enough and too much." What is a little to be marvelled at, Strype suffers his prejudices against the conduct of the monks to be heightened by a letter from one of the name of Beerly, at Pershore; who, in order that he might escape the general wreck, turned tail upon his brethren, and vilified them as liberally as their professed enemies had done. Now, to say the least, this was not obtaining what Chief Baron Gilbert, in his famous Law of Evidence, has laid it down as necessary to be obtained—"the best possible evidence that the nature of the case will admit of." It is worth remarking that Fuller has incorporated a particular account of the names of the abbots and of the carnal enormities of which they are supposed to have been guilty; but he adds that he took it from the 3d edition of Speed's Hist. of Great Britain, and (what is worth special notice) that it was not to be found in the prior ones: "being a posthume addition after the author's death, attested in the margine with the authority of Henry Steven his Apologie for Herodotus, who took the same out of an English book, containing the Vileness discovered at the Visitation of Monasteries." Church History, b. vi., pp. 316, 317.
A pause perhaps of one moment might have ensued. A consideration of what had been done, in these monasteries, for the preservation of the literature of past ages, and for the cultivation of elegant and peaceful pursuits, might, like "the still small voice" of conscience, have suspended, for a second, the final sentence of confiscation. The hospitality for which the owners of these places had been, and were then, eminently distinguished; but more especially the yet higher consideration of their property having been left with them only as a sacred pledge to be handed down, unimpaired, to their successors—these things,[310] one would think, might have infused some little mercy and moderation into Henry's decrees!
[310] There are two points, concerning the subversion of monasteries, upon which all sensible Roman Catholics make a rest, and upon which they naturally indulge a too well-founded grief. The dispersion of books or interruption of study; and the breaking up of ancient hospitality. Let us hear Collier upon the subject: "The advantages accruing to the public from these religious houses were considerable, upon several accounts. To mention some of them: The temporal nobility and gentry had a creditable way of providing for their younger children. Those who were disposed to withdraw from the world, or not likely to make their fortunes in it, had a handsome retreat to the cloister. Here they were furnished with conveniences for life and study, with opportunities for thought and recollection; and, over and above, passed their time in a condition not unbecoming their quality."—"The abbies were very serviceable places for the education of young people: every convent had one person or more assigned for this business. Thus the children of the neighbourhood were taught grammar and music without any charge to their parents. And, in the nunneries, those of the other sex learned to work and read English, with some advances into Latin," &c.—"Farther, it is to the abbies we are obliged for most of our historians, both of church and state: these places of retirement had both most learning and leisure for such undertakings: neither did they want information for such employment," Ecclesiastical History, vol. ii., 165. A host of Protestant authors, with Lord Herbert at the head of them, might be brought forward to corroborate these sensible remarks of Collier. The hospitality of the monastic life has been on all sides admitted; and, according to Lord Coke, one of the articles of impeachment against Cardinal Wolsey was that he had caused "this hospitality and relief to grow into decay and disuse;" which was "a great cause that there were so many vagabonds, beggars, and thieves;"—Fourth Institute; p. 91, edit. 1669. So that the author of an ancient, and now rarely perused work had just reason, in describing the friars of his time as "living in common upon the goods of a monastery, either gotten by common labour, or else upon lands and possessions where with the monastery was endowed." Pype or Tonne of the Lyfe of Perfection; fol. clxxii., rev. 1532, 4to. And yet, should the active bibliomaniac be disposed to peruse this work, after purchasing Mr. Triphook's elegant copy of the same, he might probably not think very highly of the author's good sense, when he found him gravely telling us that "the appetite of clean, sweet, and fair, or fine cloaths, and oft-washing and curious pykyng of the body, is an enemy of chastity," fol. ccxxix. rect. The devastation of books was, I fear, sufficiently frightful to warrant the following writers in their respective conclusions. "A judicious author (says Ashmole) speaking of the dissolution of our monasteries, saith thus: Many manuscripts, guilty of no other superstition then (having) red letters in the front, were condemned to the fire: and here a principal key of antiquity was lost, to the great prejudice of posterity. Indeed (such was learning's misfortune, at that great devastation of our English libraries, that) where a red letter or a mathematical diagram appeared, they were sufficient to entitle the book to be popish or diabolical." Theatrum Chemicum; prolegom. A. 2. rev. "The avarice of the late intruders was so mean, and their ignorance so undistinguishing, that, when the books happened to have costly covers, they tore them off, and threw away the works, or turned them to the vilest purposes." Life of Reginald Pole; vol. i., p. 253-4, edit. 1767, 8vo. The author of this last quotation then slightly notices what Bale has said upon these book-devastations; and which I here subjoin at full length; from my first edition of this work:—"Never (says Bale) had we been offended for the loss of our libraries, being so many in number, and in so desolate places for the more part, if the chief monuments and most notable works of our excellent writers had been preserved. If there had been, in every shire of England, but one solempne library, to the preservation of those noble works, and preferment of good learning in our posterity, it had been yet somewhat. But to destroy all, without consideration, is, and will be, unto England, for ever, a most horrible infamy among the grave seniors of other nations. A great number of them, which purchased those superstitious mansions, reserved of those library-books some to serve the jakes, some to scour their candlesticks, and some to rub their boots: some they sold to the grocers and soap sellers; some they sent over sea to the book-binders, not in small number, but at times whole ships full, to the wondering of the foreign nations. Yea, the Universities of the realm are not all clear of this detestable fact. But cursed is that belly which seeketh to be fed with such ungodly gains, and shameth his natural country. I know a merchant man, which shall at this time be nameless, that bought the contents of two noble libraries for forty shillings price; a shame it is to be spoken! This stuff hath he occupied in the stead of grey paper, by the space of more than ten years, and yet he hath store enough for as many years to come!" Preface to Leland's Laboryouse Journey, &c., 1549, 8vo. Reprint of 1772; sign. C.
Phil. But what can be said in defence of the dissolute lives of the monks?
Lysand. Dissoluteness shall never be defended by me, let it be shewn by whom it may; and therefore I will not take the part, on this head, of the tenants of old monasteries. But, Philemon, consider with what grace could this charge come from him who had "shed innocent blood," to gratify his horrid lusts?
Lis. Yet, tell me, did not the dissolution of these libraries in some respects equally answer the ends of literature, by causing the books to come into other hands?
Lysand. No doubt, a few studious men reaped the benefit of this dispersion, by getting possession of many curious volumes with which, otherwise, they might never have been acquainted. If my memory be not treacherous, the celebrated grammarian Robert Wakefield[311] was singularly lucky in this way. It is time, however, to check my rambling ideas. A few more words only, and we cease to sermonize upon the Reformation.