length, Jane being dead and Cromwell destroyed, and new councillors had overbalanced Cranmer in their influence over him, we see still farther evidence of his utter lack of principle in his reversal of his former liberal action, again interdicting the Bible, and turning the screws of his dogmatism upon the people. Owing to this lack of principle, his standard of orthodoxy was as fluctuating as his caprices-the only article to which he seemed to be actually anchored being the doctrine of the real presence. His standard, however, took ultimate form, through the influence of the new and cunning advisers who controlled him, in the Six Articles, or "the Bloody Bill," as the Protestants fitly termed them-which ordained the most offensive Romish dogmas into the established faith, under penalties, some of which were of unparalleled severity, going beyond the inquisition itself. And into this, with the assertion of his supremacy, he settled as the final policy of his reign; a policy, it must be confessed, with a two-edged impartiality, making it "treason to admit the papal supremacy, and heresy to deny the papal creed," so that one had reason to say "that those who were against the Pope were burned, and those who were for him were hanged." The explanation was, that Henry was bent simply on enforcing himself as the master of the conscience and faith as of the civil allegiance of the nation, and that while he hated the Pope and the papacy, he was still the slave of popish thought, or the unconscious tool of popish priests.

This notice of Henry and of his relations to the real Reformation in England, has seemed to belong to the proper treatment of the period, and to the just presentation of the subject in hand. Latimer was, at one time, one of his favorites. In this view of what he was and of what he did, we have the required explanation why Latimer lost his favor, and was sent to the tower and left to languish there. And what is more important than this, we see how little, as a matter of historical justice, can be properly claimed for Henry as "the Father of the English Reformation," which title has sometimes been given him. He was so only in the sense in which the axe fells the tree, or the hoe tills the ground. Good came from what he did-came even from his violence, rapacity and lust. Let him have whatever credit it may entitle him to. But while, as Hume says,

"his rough hand was well adapted to rend asunder those bands by which the ancient superstition had fastened itself on the kingdom," and while, as we may say, so self-willed, so arrogant, so energetic, he served as a battle-axe, or a battering-ram, in the hand of Providence, to beat down those entrenchments of Popery which stood in the way of the Anglo-Saxon development and civilization, if we have given him credit for any of the better spirit of the Reformation, or for being any thing more than the providential battle-axe, or battering-rams without consciousness or approbation of the purpose he was serving, we have given him undeserved honor.

Henry is now dead. England has been separated from the Pope; priestly power has been abridged; the monasteries have been suppressed; various abuses have been corrected; the Bible openly or secretly is widely read among the people, and a purer faith is extensively diffused; but "England cannot be said to have embraced the protestant religion, nor to have enjoyed any degree of religious freedom, since the arbitrary will of a capricious monarch has imposed whatever faith he pleased, and sent to the seaffold or the flames those who have dared to dissent from his decrees." But a new order of things is now to be introduced. A young prince, educated in the protestant faith and guided by protestant counsellors, ascends the throneand among the first acts in his name is the release of Latimer, for six years a prisoner in the tower-years of much suffering, but of brave and patient endurance. He had constantly expected death, and "had resolved," he said, "to endure it in whatever terrible form it might be appointed, rather than abandon one jot of the truth of God's word." He is now an old man, nearly seventy years of age, and bearing the marks of his long imprisonment, but is welcomed with numerous evidences of affection and confidence by his friends at court and elsewhere. He was at once desired to move for the recovery of his bishopric, and the House of Commons, as one of its first measures, voted an address to the Protector for his restoration. But, against all solicitation, he steadily declined, and at Cranmer's invitation, resided with him in the archiepiscopal palace at Lambeth. Here he aided Cranmer in organizing the Refor

mation, though his chief business was to hear and redress the complaints of the injured and the poor, large numbers of whom flocked to him from all parts of the kingdom. His preaching was much sought for, and for six years, notwithstanding his advanced age, he preached, it is said, for the most part, twice every Sabbath in London and various parts of the country-and frequently before the king.

During all this time, he preached in the steady conviction that it was at the peril of his life, and when Mary ascended the throne, he ceased not, though assured that he must soon seal his testimony with his blood. Ere long his hour came. He was summoned before the privy council, and though having an opportunity to escape, declined to do so, remarking as he passed through Smithfield, "This place has long groaned for me." Severer treatment than before awaited him in the Tower, where he found himself the companion of his friends Cranmer and Ridley, arrested for the same cause. Here they prepared and strengthened each other for their approaching trial. The purposes of those in power were already formed, and the fate of these men determined; but, desiring to make a show of fair dealing, it was resolved that they should be summoned to a disputation with a body of Catholic divines, and Oxford was selected as the place. Thither, therefore, they were removed-though all opportunity for previous consultation or preparation was forbidden them. But, denied human counsel and aid, they could not be denied the aid and counsel that comes through prayer; and of Latimer it is recorded particularly that he was so devout and persistent in this privilege, that he would often continue kneeling until he was unable to rise without help.

At length, on the 14th of April, 1554, they were successively brought before the convocation to hear the articles for dispute, and to be assigned a day for disputation. Latimer came last, "like a primitive martyr in his prison attire," as Fox with some particularity describes him, "with a kerchief and two or three caps on his head, his spectacles hanging by a string at his breast, and a staff in his hand." Having denied the articles, involving mainly the real presence and the efficacy of the mass, the following Wednesday was assigned for his disputation day,-to which he replied, smiling, "that owing to age, sickness, disuse and lack of books, he was about as fit to dispute as to be captain of

Calais." Referring to his lack of books, he said that he had none but this-holding up his New Testament-which he had read carefully through seven times-adding “in his humorous way," but "without finding either the marrow bones, or the sinews of the mass." But the convocation were in no mood for even so much of humor, and a discussion arising on this remark, he was stopped, denied the privilege of explaining his meaning.

On the following Monday, Cranmer, and on Tuesday, Ridley, was brought up to dispute-and on Wednesday, Latimer, in his turn, is again before the convocation. Were there space, we should be rewarded in looking upon the scene there presented, and in following the proceedings in detail. The church of St. Mary is the place. Before the altar sit the thirty-three commissioners, the picked warriors of Oxford and Cambridge, arrayed in their scarlet robes, pompous with solemnity and the pride of office, full of casuistry and sharpened for dispute; around are the "choirmen in their surplices," the dignitaries of the university, and the members of the schools with their insignia, and beyond and around all, the thronging crowd, pressing with eager faces to see and hear, while there, in the midst, sits our venerable old man, clad in his homely prison garb, his grey beard sweeping his breast, with only his staff and his New Testament for his friends, long unused to dispute and feeble with years, but confident in his cause and looking modestly but unawed on the array about him. He knows that he is arraigned on pretence, not for honest disputation; that they have said already in their hearts, "We have a law, and by this law he ought to die "—and he is resolved that he will not dispute, as his age and infirmities are sufficient reason that he should not. Desired to be as concise as possible, he requests that he may speak in English, having been long unaccustomed to Latin, and then says, “I am not able to dispute. I will protest my faith, and you may then do with me what you please." He begins to read his protestation, but in a few minutes, rude murmurs arise, swelling at length into a tumult, and he is required to desist. He could scarcely be surprised that he was thus insulted and interrupted, but with the severe dignity he knew how to wear, he turned to the president, and with some exhibition of offended feeling, said, "Sir, I have spoken in

my time before two kings, and have been heard for some hours, without interruption; here I cannot be permitted one quarter of an hour." The president takes the paper, saying that he will read it himself, but soon lays it aside, and inquires, "Since you will not dispute, will you subscribe?" Latimer replies firmly that he will not-and then follows a cunning effort to draw him into debate, ended only by the firm words, addressed to the disputant after a pompous opening, "I am sorry that this worshipful audience must be disappointed in their expectation. I have spoken my mind." Beset by one who urged the testimony of one of the fathers in an obscure and scholastic syllogism, he said, "You may go on, Sir, if you please; but, upon my word, I do not understand you."

Cranmer and Ridley had consented to dispute, and had each managed his cause with much ability, but at much disadvantage in the argument. They acknowledged the Fathers as authority, and pressed by their testimony, clearly against them, failed to justify their position. Latimer was more wise. Persisting in their attempts to draw him into debate, the disputants cited the fathers; but he brushed them at once aside, saying, "Such proofs have no weight with me. The fathers were no doubt often deceived, and I never depend on them except when they depend on the Scripture. It does not concern us what the fathers have done, only what they ought to have done." "Then you are not of St. Chrysostom's faith, nor of St. Austin's," rejoined his antagonists. "Only when they bring Scripture for what they say," frankly replied the wise old man.

It being clear that Latimer would not dispute, the assembly was dissolved, and on the Friday following, with Cranmer and Ridley, he was arraigned for sentence, and delivered to the secular arm for death; hearing which, he lifted his eyes to heaven, and in no spirit of self-sought martyrdom, but in an humble willingness to honor the truth by his steadfastness, said, "I thank God most heartily that he hath prolonged my life to this end." The next day, the Catholic party celebrated their so-called triumph by a grand procession, in which the host was carried in state, the three condemned Bishops being dragged forth to behold it; and as illustrating the spirit of the man, it is worth while to say that Latimer, when he perceived the purpose of the