CHAPTER XV.

THE JUDGMENT.

The guests were all seated in the ancient palace-hall, and before them were placed the profuse hospitality of one whose board was as regularly supplied by mayor, portmen, burgesses, commonalty, and gentry in the country, as if they were all tenants of the See, and bound to furnish the Bishop's board. There was, in those days, no niggard bounty, no measured dole to the comer; but such as could feast on ample fare, without intoxicating potions, were welcome to the palace. Latimer had been introduced to Alice as the friend of Lord De Freston. Alice took her seat in the assembly, as if every creature before her was her slave. Her stern, majestic, pale, oval face, with the conical headdress of the period, gave her such a lofty look, that it was the theme of observation amongst most of the guests.

How haughty is the Bishop's queen! was the speech of more than one of the guests, as she surveyed the assemblage before her, and scarcely condescended to give a glance of recognition, much less a word, to any one.

Ellen De Freston, who had known the failing of Alice, was pained to see how deeply it had grown upon her since she had last seen her; but she was doubly pained to observe in her a contempt for every one there present, but more especially for her cousin, William Latimer.

In vain did he endeavor to elicit one word from his haughty companion. To see the man in whose society men so delighted, whose converse was the purest and most gentle, and, at the same time, so wise and elegant, set at naught, by one whose pride alone gave her any pretension to dignity, was something so revolting to her nature, and so foreign to her ideas of respect, that she could not fail to feel for Latimer at every attempt he made to address the haughty Alice.

The proud Alice would condescend to speak to the Lord De Freston, but a supercilious stare was the sole result of every attempt on the part of Latimer to draw a word from her.

'He is the friend of my father,' thought Ellen. 'Surely, he cannot be aware of the indignity she puts upon that friend by her behaviour. He would never encourage such hauteur by engaging in conversation with her, if he could see the gentle and manly Latimer treated as he in by Alice. But he sees it not.'

It was evidently observed by Daundy, who was seated near to Ellen.

'Do you see, my fair Ellen, how that haughty maid flaunts at the young scholar's address to her? Latimer must feel himself very uncomfortable. I rejoice that I am not near her; I might be apt to forget even the courtesy of the Bishop, and tell her she had better keep to her own closet than pretend to come into society, and not know how to behave in it.'

'I perceive it,' replied Ellen, 'and I am almost indignant enough to wish that you had the opportunity of giving a deserved rebuke to the spirit of pride which, delights in paining the humble. I am sure Latimer feels deeply wounded by such treatment.'

If the conduct of Alice wounded the gentle and generous Latimer, he was more than repaid by the sign of interest which Ellen evinced for him. It was then, for the first moment of his life, that the thought of love came down upon his soul, and dispelled the gloom of sorrow which had brooded over his mind at the pride of the fair one near him. It was a similar thought that aroused in Ellen the blush of consciousness, as she felt the first throb of the warm blood rush from her heart, in sympathy with the architect of Freston Tower.

It was perhaps well, just at this moment, that Latimer and Ellen were called upon to listen to the language of orators upon the most vital and important subject which could come under human contemplation.

John Bale, who had waited patiently till grace had been chaunted, and was expected to speak publicly before the Bishop upon matters touching some scruples he entertained, rose. Silence being enjoined, he addressed the Bishop in these words:

'I rise, my Lord Bishop, though with many misgivings, on account of the time and place for such occasion, to put a very serious question for your judgment. Nothing where you preside can be said, I trust, in an unbecoming spirit, and nothing, certainly, should be spoken without charity. I humbly, pray, then, for the full protection of your presence upon this occasion, that if we speak with respect, we may not be insulted with ribaldry.

'We maintain that the Scriptures are given by God, to be a chastening warning and correction to the sinner's soul, a comfort to the righteous, and God's great boon to all the world. That without these Scriptures, commonly called the Bible, salvation cannot be properly known and understood. That they alone contain the truth which we ought to preach and teach, and the observances which we ought to hold. That the pious should receive such truth, and the learned preach it. That no man can know anything of God's will or his decrees but from the Sacred Scriptures. That all our learning of languages is but to keep these Scriptures pure, and to teach the unlearned and ignorant therefrom the sure and certain meaning of the Word ones spoken to man.

'We advocate the cause of the Scriptures being placed in the hands of the people, and maintain that, so far from this derogating from our authority, such a step would tend to increase the respect paid us, since all men can then see that the doctrines we preach and teach are the solid truth. That if the Scriptures be withheld, no man's judgment can be sound upon what we teach; for without them, it is impossible they should acknowledge the truth of our preaching.

'I request your voice and judgment hereupon, to say whether we hold or not, in these matters, anything contrary to true discipline and the right directions of mankind. I know your mind to be replete with learning, and that you do not despise others, nor would destroy research, in the bosom of the church. I, therefore, the more confidently commit what I say to your consideration, and await your answer.'

There was a pause among the auditors before the Bishop; though the priest of St. Peter looked as if he would tear his crimson vest in pieces. The priest also of St. Saviour's was so much stirred that he felt as if the sin of schism was in the very palace. He rose up from his seat like a rampant and roaring lion, and for very rage could scarcely keep his hands off the humble man who had resumed his seat. He did not, as it was, fail to give him a curse in no very gentle terms.

'Heretic!' he exclaimed, 'thou art doomed to the fiercest and deadliest death. Down to the darkest doom beneath, where the devil and death prevail.

'Canst thou hear him, my Lord Bishop, defame the very church of which thou art thyself a prelate? Does he dare to mention in thy presence his deeds of shame? Hear him, Bishop Goldwell! Like Wickliffe, he wishes that all could read that he might sell his Bible, and get paid for his pains. He would raise up the people like wild hyenas to come and feast upon the priesthood. Observe how insidiously he turns the whole tenor of his argument upon placing the Bible in the hands of the common people. He does not say he would subvert the hierarchy; he does not say he would do away with the priesthood; but he speaks as if we were all dishonest, and he would not have the people believe one word we speak.

'He will not abide by the decision of the Papal power, though he now seems to acknowledge thy right of jurisdiction over him. This is but an insidious covering for treachery; for whilst he pays thee court, and owns thy supremacy in ecclesiastical affairs, he denies the very power by which thou, O Goldwell! holdest thine authority. His words are as smooth as oil, yet he will not own that the church has the right of sole interpretation of those Scriptures which he is such an advocate for placing in the hands of the people.

'He will not admit that the Pope has the keys of St. Peter; that he is the head of the Christian church, and the only infallible source from which decision can be given. He would have the people taught no longer to depend upon our teaching, but would have them dispute our authority and deny to us the powers of absolution. So, my lord, he would have the people believe they are quite as good judges of scriptural things as we are; and shortly they will think they have quite as much right to this palace and the revenues thereof as thou hast.

'But shall this heretic teach them never to believe in our commission to stand betwixt their souls and heaven, to give them their meat in proper season, and explain the Word, as we ourselves receive it? I flatter thee not with enticing words, knowing that the judgment of the church is with thee, and that thou wilt not fear to pronounce that heresy which militates against the teaching of the church. I beseech thee not to cherish and encourage heretics within the precincts of thy palace. I have done. I await thy judgment with confidence.'

He had no sooner taken his seat than the youthful Bilney rose, his heart full of sorrow, woe, and trouble, yet throbbing alone for the truth. He had seen, with an eagle's eyes, the sins of the papal hierarchy, and sighed to be free from the pestilential darkness which covered, as with a veil, the light of the Scriptures. He addressed himself to the Bishop in the following terms:

'Thou knowest, Bishop Goldwell, that I came not here this day, to intrude upon thy privacy, or to boast in defiance of thine authority; but that thou thyself didst desire that I should speak out candidly before others that which I had more privately and conscientiously divulged to thee. I know that thine intention was good in this: that thou didst it to elicit the truth, and never intended that we should be in thy presence and in thine own palace insulted and have epithets of opprobrium cast upon us; nay, that we should be condemned without benefit of clergy to the nethermost shades of hell.

'It is the rule of thy board that every man should have full liberty to speak, provided he confine his arguments within the prescribed limits of decency and order. I cannot enter upon the all-important matters which I conceive it my duty to lay before thee, if I am to meet with the same frantic and uncourteous treatment which my friend has just received at the hands of the priest of St. Saviour's. There can no charity dwell where rancor burns within.

'Owning thy full authority here, I shall not attempt to speak until I hear thee lay down the law of thy palace, and command that we be at least so far respected before thee, that we may not be afraid to give utterance to whatever we may advance.'

Bilney sat down, and the priests of Ipswich looked a little confused at the clear and manly tone of speech with which this young man then addressed the Bishop before the company. There was wisdom enough in it to call forth these words from Goldwell.

'Thou art invited freely to speak, and not summoned hither to answer to any accusation of crime or heresy, and to deliver thy sentiments without any personal fear. I like thy temper, and must insist upon my clergy's observance of such forms of decorum as the courtesy of my palace demands. Thou must not be surprised, indeed, if thy doctrines and those of thy friend Bale should create a little rheum in the spirits of those so unaccustomed to have any of their decisions disputed.

'Thou mayest go on, and should thine opponents, friends as they are to me, and subordinate to my authority, conduct themselves in an unbecoming manner, thou mayest depend upon the soundness of my judgment to give them a merited rebuke. Hoping I shall hear nothing more of acrimony, I invite thee to proceed.'