CHAPTER I
INTERNAL DISSENSION
The peace was gone from Lewes Priory. A wave had broken in through thehigh wall from the world outside with the coming of the Visitors, andhad left wreckage behind, and swept out security as it went. The monksknew now that their old privileges were gone with the treasures thatLayton had taken with him, and that although the wave had recoiled, itwould return again and sweep them all away.
Upon none of them had the blow fallen more fiercely than on Chris; hehad tried to find peace, and instead was in the midst of storm. The highbarriers had gone, and with them the security of his own soul, and theworld that he thought he had left was grinning at the breach.
It was piteous to him to see the Prior--that delicate, quiet prelate whohad held himself aloof in his dignities--now humbled by the shame of hisexposure in the chapter-house. The courage that Bishop Fisher hadrestored to him in some measure was gone again; and it was miserable tolook at that white downcast face in the church and refectory, and torecognise that all self-respect was gone. After his return from hisappearance before Cromwell he was more wretched than ever; it was knownthat he had been sent back in contemptuous disgrace; but it was notknown how much he had promised in his terror for life.
The house had lost too some half-dozen of its inmates. Two hadpetitioned for release; three professed monks had been dismissed, and arecent novice had been sent back to his home. Their places in thestately choir were empty, and eloquent with warning; and in their steadwas a fantastic secular priest, appointed by the Visitors' authority,who seldom said mass, and never attended choir; but was regular in therefectory, and the chapter-house where he thundered St. Paul's epistlesat the monks, and commentaries of his own, in the hopes of turning themfrom papistry to a purer faith.
The news from outside echoed their own misery. Week after week the talespoured in, of young and old dismissed back to the world whose ways theyhad forgotten, of the rape of treasures priceless not only for theirintrinsic worth but for the love that had given and consecrated themthrough years of devout service. There was not a house that had not lostsomething; the King himself had sanctioned the work by taking precioushorns and a jewelled cross from Winchester. And worse than all that hadgone was the terror of what was yet to come. The world, which had beencreeping nearer, pausing and creeping on again, had at last passed theboundaries and leapt to sacrilege.
It was this terror that poisoned life. The sacristan who polished thejewels that were left, handled them doubtfully now; the monk whosuperintended the farm sickened as he made his plans for another year;the scribe who sat in the carrel lost enthusiasm for his work; for thejewels in a few months might be on royal fingers, the beasts instrangers' sheds, and the illuminated leaves blowing over the cobbledcourt, or wrapped round grocers' stores.
Dom Anthony preached a sermon on patience one day in Christmastide,telling his fellows that a man's life, and still less a monk's,consisted not in the abundance of things that he possessed; and thatcorporate, as well as individual, poverty, had been the ideal of themonastic houses in earlier days. He was no great preacher, but thepeople loved to hear his homely remarks, and there was a murmur ofsympathy as he pointed with a clumsy gesture to the lighted Crib thathad been erected at the foot of one of the great pillars in the nave.
"Our Lady wore no cloth of gold," he said, "nor Saint Joseph a preciousmitre; and the blessed Redeemer Himself who made all things had butstraw to His bed. And if our new cope is gone, we can make ourprocessions in the old one, and please God no less. Nay, we may pleaseHim more perhaps, for He knows that it is by no will of ours that we doso."
But there had been a dismal scene at the chapter next morning. The Priorhad made them a speech, with a passionate white face and hands thatshook, and declared that the sermon would be their ruin yet if theKing's Grace heard of it.
"There was a fellow that went out half-way through," he cried in panic,"how do we know whether he is not talking with his Grace even now? Iwill not have such sermons; and you shall be my witnesses that I saidso."
The monks eyed one another miserably. How could they prosper under sucha prior as this?
But worse was to follow, though it did not directly affect this house.The bill, so long threatened, dissolving the smaller houses, was passedin February by a Parliament carefully packed to carry out the King'swishes, and from which the spiritual peers were excluded by his"permission to them to absent themselves." Lewes Priory, of course,exceeded the limit of revenue under which other houses were suppressed,and even received one monk who had obtained permission to go there whenhis community fell; but in spite of the apparent encouragement from thepreamble of the bill which stated that "in the great solemn monasteries... religion was right well kept," it was felt that this act was but theherald of another which should make an end of Religious Housesaltogether.
But there was a breath of better news later on, when tidings came in theearly summer that Anne was in disgrace. It was well known that it washer influence that egged the King on, and that there was none so fierceagainst the old ways. Was it not possible that Henry might even yetrepent himself, if she were out of the way?
Then the tidings were confirmed, and for a while there was hope.
* * * * *
Sir Nicholas Maxwell rode over to see Chris, and was admitted into oneof the parlours to talk with him.
He seemed furiously excited, and hardly saluted his brother-in-law.
"Chris," he said, "I have come straight from London with great news. TheKing's harlot is fallen."
Chris stared.
"Dead?" he said.
"Dead in a day or two, thank God!"
He spat furiously.
"God strike her!" he cried. "She has wrought all the mischief, Ibelieve. They told me so a year back, but I did not believe it."
"And where is she?"
Then Nicholas told his story, his ruddy comely face bright withexultation, for he had no room for pity left. The rumours that had cometo Lewes were true. Anne had been arrested suddenly at Greenwich duringthe sports, and had been sent straight to the Tower. The King was wearyof her, though she had borne him a child; and did not scruple to bringthe most odious charges against her. She had denied, and denied; but itwas useless. She had wept and laughed in prison, and called on God tovindicate her; but the process went on none the less. The marriage hadbeen declared null and void by Dr. Cranmer who had blessed it; and nowshe was condemned for sinning against it.
"But she is either his wife," said Chris amazed, "or else she is notguilty of adultery."
Nicholas chuckled.
"God save us, Chris; do you think Henry can't manage it?"
Then he grew white with passion, and beat the table and damned the Kingand Anne and Cranmer to hell together.
Chris glanced up, drumming his fingers softly on the table.
"Nick," he said, "there is no use in that. When is she to die?"
The knight's face flushed again with pleasure, and he showed his teethset together.
"Two days," he said, "please God, or three at the most. And she will notmeet those she has sent before her, or John Fisher whose head she hadbrought to her--the bloody Herodias!"
"Pray God that she will!" said Chris softly. "They will pray for her atleast."
"Pah!" shouted Nicholas, "an eye for an eye for me!"
Chris said nothing. He was thinking of all that this might mean. Whocould know what might not happen? Nicholas broke in again presently.
"I heard a fine tale," he said, "do you know that the woman is in thevery room where she slept the night before the crowning? Last time itwas for the crown to be put on; now it is for the head to be taken off.And it is true that she weeps and laughs. They can hear her laugh twostoreys away, I hear."
"Nick," said Chris suddenly, "I am weary of that. Let her alone. PrayGod she may turn!"
Nicholas stared astonished, and a little awed too. Chris used not to belike this; he seemed quieter and stronger; he
had never dared to speakso before.
"Yes; I am weary of this," said Chris again. "I stormed once at Ralph,and gained nothing. We do not win by those weapons. Where is Ralph?"
Nicholas knit his lips to keep in the fury that urged him.
"He is with Cromwell still," he said venomously, "and very busy, I hear.They will be making him a lord soon--but there will be no lady."
Chris had heard of Beatrice's rejection of Ralph.
"He is still busy?"
"Why, yes; he worked long at this bill, I hear."
Chris asked a few more questions, and learned that Ralph seemed fiercerthan ever since the Visitation. He was well-known at Court; had beenseen riding with the King; and it was supposed that he was risingrapidly in favour every day.
"God help him!" sighed Chris.
The change that had come over Chris was very much marked. Neither a lifein the world would have done it, nor one in the peace of the cloister;but an alternation of the two. He had been melted by the fire of theinner life, and braced by the external bitterness of adversity. Ralph'svisit to the priory, culminating in the passionless salutation of him inthe cloister as being a guest and therefore a representative of Christ,had ended that stage in the development of the monk's character. Chriswas disappointed in his brother, fearful for him and stern in hisattitude towards him; but he was not resentful. He was sincere when heprayed God to help him.
When Nicholas had eaten and gone, carrying messages to Mary, Chris toldthe others, and there was a revival of hope in the house.
Then a few days later came the news of Anne's death and of the marriageof the King with Jane Seymour on the following day. At least Jane was alawful wife and queen in the Catholics' eyes, for Katharine too wasdead.
* * * * *
Chris had now passed through the minor orders, the sub-diaconate and thediaconate, and was looking forward to priesthood. It had been thoughtadvisable by his superiors, in view of the troubled state of the times,to apply for the necessary dispensations, and they had been grantedwithout difficulty. So many monks who were not priests had been turnedinto the world resourceless, since they could not be appointed tobenefices, that it was thought only fair to one who was already bound byvows of religion and sacred orders not to hold him back from anopportunity to make his living, should affairs be pushed further in thedirection of dissolution.
He was looking forward with an extraordinary zeal to the crown ofpriesthood. It seemed to him a possession that would compensate for allother losses. If he could but make the Body of the Lord, lift It beforethe Throne, and hold It in his hands, all else was trifling.
There were waves of ecstatic peace again breaking over his soul as hethought of it; as he moved behind the celebrant at high mass, lifted thepall of the chalice, and sang the exultant _Ite missa est_ when all wasdone. What a power would be his on that day! He would have his fingerthen on the huge engine of grace, and could turn it whither he would,spraying infinite force on this and that soul, on Ralph stubbornlyfighting against God in London, on his mother silent and bitter at home,on his father anxious and courageous, waiting for disaster, on Margarettrembling in Rusper nunnery as she contemplated the defiance she hadflung in the King's face.
The Prior had given him but little encouragement; he had sent for himone day, and told him that he might prepare himself for priesthood byMichaelmas, for a foreign bishop was coming to them, and leave would beobtained for him to administer the rite. But he had not said a word ofcounsel or congratulation; but had nodded to the young monk, and turnedhis sickly face to the papers again on his table.
Dom Anthony, the pleasant stout guest-master, who had preached thesermon in Christmastide, said a word of comfort, as they walked in thecloister together.
"You must not take it amiss, brother," he said, "my Lord Prior is besidehimself with terror. He does not know how to act."
Chris asked whether there were any new reason for alarm.
"Oh, no!" said the monk, "but the people are getting cold towards ushere. You have seen how few come to mass here now, or to confession.They are going to the secular priests instead."
Chris remembered one or two other instances of this growing coldness.The poor folks who came for food complained of its quality two or threetimes; and one fellow, an old pensioner of the house, who had lost aleg, threw his portion down on the doorstep.
"I will have better than that some day," he had said, as he limped off.Chris had gathered up the cold lentils patiently and carried them backto the kitchen.
On another day a farmer had flatly refused a favour to the monk whosuperintended the priory-farm.
"I will not have your beasts in my orchard," he had said roughly. "Youare not my masters."
The congregations too were visibly declining, as the guest-master hadsaid. The great nave beyond the screen looked desolate in thesummer-mornings, as the sunlight lay in coloured patches on the wideempty pavement between the few faithful gathered in front, and the halfdozen loungers who leaned in the shadow of the west wall--men whofulfilled their obligation of hearing mass, with a determination to doso with the least inconvenience to themselves, and who scuffled outbefore the blessing.
It was evident that the tide of faith and reverence was beginning to ebbeven in the quiet country towns.
As the summer drew on the wider world too had its storms. A fiercesermon was preached at the opening of Convocation, by Dr. Latimer, nowBishop of Worcester, at the express desire of the Archbishop, thatscourged not only the regular but the secular clergy as well. The sermontoo was more furiously Protestant than any previously preached on suchan occasion; pilgrimages, the stipends for masses, image-worship, andthe use of an unknown tongue in divine service, were alike denounced ascontrary to the "pure gospel." The phrases of Luther were abundantlyused in the discourse; and it was evident, from the fact that no publiccensure fell upon the preacher, that Henry's own religious views haddeveloped since the day that he had published his attack on the foreignreformers.
The proceedings of Convocation confirmed the suspicion that the sermonaroused. With an astonishing compliance the clergy first ratified thedecree of nullity in the matter of Anne's marriage with the King,disclaimed obedience to Rome, and presented a list of matters for whichthey requested reform. In answer to this last point the King, assistedby a couple of bishops, sent down to the houses, a month later, a paperof articles to which the clergy instantly agreed. These articlesproceeded in the direction of Protestantism through omission rather thanaffirmation. Baptism, Penance and the Sacrament of the Altar were spokenof in Catholic terms; the other four sacraments were omitted altogether;on the other hand, again, devotion to saints, image-worship, and prayersfor the departed were enjoined with important qualifications.
Finally it was agreed to support the King in his refusal to berepresented at the proposed General Council at Mantua.
* * * * *
The tidings of all this, filtering in to the house at Lewes by priestsand Religious who stayed there from time to time, did not tend toreassure those who looked for peace. The assault was not going to stopat matters of discipline; it was dogma that was aimed at, and, worseeven than that, the foundation on which dogma rested. It was not anaffair of Religious Houses, or even of morality; there was concerned thevery Rock itself on which Christendom based all faith and morals. If itwas once admitted that a National Church, apart from the See of Rome,could in the smallest degree adjudicate on a point of doctrine, theunity of the Catholic Church as understood by every monk in the house,was immediately ruptured.
Again and again in chapter there were terrible scenes. The Prior ravedweakly, crying that it was not the part of a good Catholic to resist hisprince, that the Apostle himself enjoined obedience to those inauthority; that the new light of learning had illuminated perplexingproblems; and that in the uncertainty it was safer to follow the certainduty of civil obedience. Dom Anthony answered that a greater than St.Paul had bidden His followers
to render to God the things that wereGod's; that St. Peter was crucified sooner than obey Nero--and the Priorcried out for silence; and that he could not hear his Christian Kinglikened to the heathen emperor. Monk after monk would rise; onefollowing his Prior, and disclaiming personal learning andresponsibility; another with ironic deference saying that a man's soulwas his own, and that not even a Religious Superior could release fromthe biddings of conscience; another would balance himself between theparties, declaring that the distinction of duties was insoluble; that insuch a case as this it was impossible to know what was due to God andwhat to man. Yet another voice would rise from time to time declaringthat the tales that they heard were incredible; that it was impossiblethat the King should intend such evil against the Church; he still heardhis three masses a day as he had always done; there was no more ardentdefender of the Sacrament of the Altar.
Chris used to steady himself in this storm of words as well as he could,by reflecting that he probably would not have to make a decision, for itwould be done for him, at least as regarded his life in the convent orout, by his superiors. Or again he would fix his mind resolutely on hisapproaching priesthood; while the Prior sat gnawing his lips, playingwith his cross and rapping his foot, before bursting out again andbidding them all be silent, for they knew not what they were meddlingwith.
The misery rose to its climax when the Injunctions arrived; and thechapter sat far into the morning, meeting again after dinner to considerthem.
These were directions, issued to the clergy throughout the country, bythe authority of the King alone; and this very fact was significant ofwhat the Royal Supremacy meant. Some of them did not touch theReligious, and were intended only for parish-priests; but others werebitterly hard to receive.
The community was informed that in future, once in every quarter, asermon was to be preached against the Bishop of Rome's usurped power;the Ten Articles, previously issued, were to be brought before thenotice of the congregation; and careful instructions were to be given asregards superstition in the matter of praying to the saints. It was thefirst of these that caused the most strife.
Dom Anthony, who was becoming more and more the leader of theconservative party, pointed out that the See of Peter was to everyCatholic the root of authority and unity, and that Christianity itselfwas imperilled if this rock were touched.
The Prior angrily retorted that it was not the Holy See that was to beassaulted, but the erection falsely raised upon it; it was the abuse ofpower, not the use of it that had to be denounced.
Dom Anthony requested the Prior to inform him where the line ofdistinction lay; and the Prior in answer burst into angry explanations,instancing the pecuniary demands of the Pope, the appointment offoreigners to English benefices, and all the rest of the accusationsthat were playing such a part now in the religious controversy of thecountry.
Dom Anthony replied that those were not the matters principally aimed atby the Injunction; it concerned rather the whole constitution ofChrist's Church, and was a question of the Pope's or the King'ssupremacy over that part of it that lay in England.
Finally the debate was ended by the Prior's declaration that he couldtrust no one to preach the enjoined sermon but himself, and that hewould see to it on his own responsibility.
It was scarcely an inspiring atmosphere for one who was preparing totake on him the burden of priesthood in the Catholic Church.
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