CHAPTER XXIII.

CHANGES.

Bishop Goldwell, who had been Secretary of State, and was as good a judge of character as any man, pronounced Wolsey to be a man of a thousand: for he said, to his cousin Nicholas Goldwell, whom he made his arch-deacon:

'He is a man equal to any emergency. He has a genius adapted for enterprise; a spirit equal to the highest actions--and a perfect knowledge of men, and a good address. Nicholas, thou wilt do well to cultivate that man's acquaintance!'

When Wolsey attended at the private mansion of Bishop Goldwell, he was received with all courtesy.

Wolsey's character began to show itself powerfully at that period. He assumed a courteous manner, which he ever after maintained, winning affection from those who became attached to him. He had ease, a commanding voice, and very dexterous address. He was refined in the choice of his words, which he pronounced with the most persuasive accent. His knowledge was vast, and his powers active. In a word, he won the Bishop's heart, and he was himself won also.

It was a singular circumstance, that the lofty demeanor he thought proper to observe to the pale Alice De Clinton, made that haughty lady bow before him. There was a self-possession about this handsome young man, that made Alice think she had never before seen such a personification of dignity. In one moment she was made to perceive that she was in the presence of a man whose pride of heart was greater than her own.

'Never,' said the Lady Alice to her uncle, 'did I behold such a compound of style and majesty in any man!'

'Nor I either, Alice: and I can tell thee, moreover, that this outward appearance, doth not, as in sycophants, form a covering for ignorance, for Wolsey is internally the man he appears. He has knowledge, intellect, and perception, such as I never met with in all my diplomatic acquaintance, and I have seen a little of the world, Mistress Alice!'

'Thou hast shown me a little of men and manners, but none that have interested me as Wolsey has.'

'Alice, take care! I have already designed this youth for Rome. He must go thither; he must be seen of learned men! I find he loves the church, and is disposed to be a priest. I have pointed out to his ambitious soul the dignities, honors, and emoluments, which the Pope of Rome has to bestow. His breast seems fired with a holy flame, and thou must not interfere with it.'

'Oh, fear not, my Lord Bishop and worthy uncle, fear not my influence over such a man. I have too much regard for our Holy Mother Church, ever to think of disqualifying him for taking the vows of service to the Pope. He is far too high to be ever tempted to his fall from such a post; and I should be the last to offer him such temptation.'

'Well said, my niece! thou hast a good sound heart!'

'I am astonished, uncle, that Latimer should have ventured to quote such a man, as entertaining any heretical opinions concerning church views. It appears to me, that Wolsey would in one moment have annihilated the arguments of that clique, who were so bold for innovations.'

'I am certainly agreeably surprised to find this youth so firm. I had fears indeed as to his being of that wavering disposition which is beginning to be prevalent. But in all my conversations with him upon affairs of state, books, men, and things, I find him a perfectly congenial spirit; and nothing in the least heretical in his views. He is like Latimer in one respect, in his contempt of the monkish follies of the overgrown superstition of the Abbots of Bury.'

'But dost thou not agree with him therein?'

'I do, for the most part; but not in all things. He is a young man, Alice, and will think differently as he grows older.'

'I hope he will be a great man. I think he will; for I can scarcely imagine the Pope to be more dignified.'

'Hush, Alice; hush! It must be many, many years before Wolsey could have any claim to the Popedom; and there may be many changes before that time. Thou mayst live to see it. I shall not!'

And here the conversation dropped.

Nothing could have hitherto been more disposed to the widest and most liberal scope of ecclesiastical polity than Thomas Wolsey. He had repeatedly conversed with Ellen, Latimer, and Lord De Freston upon the many impositions of the Popedom: so much so, that all Oxford had been alive to the views which Wolsey had so manfully expounded, and treated of so truthfully, that reformers began to think the learned scholar of Ipswich would be a host in himself. But then his views had Ellen De Freston in the foreground; and he found himself anxious to propagate the love of truth above every other consideration. Ellen De Freston had vanished; and the Pope had taken her place. Certainly, a less pleasant object, but the spiritual ambition inspired by his view seemed to soften, or rather harden, the regrets which arose from disappointed love. Wolsey was now a different man. His conversations with Bishop Goldwell confirmed him in his altered prospects. The Pope's supremacy became his favorite theme; and a few weeks before, the man who had no intention of ever becoming a priest, was now ordained by Bishop Goldwell, and soon alter took his departure for Oxford, where he became as celebrated in the defence of the Pope, as he had been conspicuous for a more enlightened polity.

Men's circumstances do sometimes make them change their opinions; but those opinions could never have been based upon the immutable grounds of truth, which could be changed with any change of outward circumstances, that vary as the wind. But the mischief was done. The change had taken place; and Wolsey had left Ipswich before Lord De Freston became acquainted with the fact. Wolsey, after his return to College, pursued his career of tuition with the utmost diligence, and became the tutor of the sons of the Marquis of Dorset. Few who came under his care could fail to improve in the elegancies of literature, as well as in knowledge of the world.

His sudden departure for the seat of learning was attributed to his shock at his father's death by some, yet his total absence from the society of his friends at Freston was considered a remarkable thing; but when men understood that he had entered the priest's office, they concluded that the separation of friendship arose from some dissimilarity of views upon matters of religion. Lord De Freston, after the celebrated discussion at the palace of Wykes', had given an invitation to those two champions of truth, Bale and Bilney, to partake of the hospitality of his mansion. It was here, during the slow progress of Latimer's recovery, that these honest friends took it by turns to read and converse with the learned scholar upon the sick-bed.

Men whose hearts are thankful to God for his signal preservation of them in time of extreme danger, are always ready to exclaim, 'O, what shall I say unto thee, thou Preserver of men!' Latimer's mind and soul were full of thankfulness. He was more learned than his visitors, but not more sincere. Men of strong minds, with a just abhorrence of deceit and superstition, and a fervent desire for greater grace and knowledge of God, could not but be edified when they came to converse of His mercies. The hearts of these friends being given to God, were thankful every hour, for their converse was of that holy, pure, and lovely cast, which was sure to derive fresh vigor from the expanded view of mercy displayed before them.

It was in one of these afternoon visits, that Latimer heard from Daundy of his friend.

'I have observed,' he said, 'ever since his father's death, that Thomas has been shy of all his friends; that he has been moody and melancholy, and very different towards his mother. He used to be of a free and open disposition; was glad of the society of his relatives, and especially of those who dwelt here, to whom he owes so much more than he can repay.'

'I have heard,' said Bale, 'that he is ambitious, very ambitious; and the Church of Rome, and the Papal Hierarchy, afford a magnificent field for the ambition of a man of Wolsey's abilities; but I do not envy him. He must submit to many impositions, must practise many deceits, must wink at many fooleries, and with his mind, can hardly put up with such unmeaning ceremonies as he must daily behold.'

'You know him not, my friend,' replied Latimer. 'Wolsey is a very determined man, firm in his purpose, and if he should rise to power, will do much good. I grieve wo have not seen him. I should like to have held converse with him upon these matters, which we have all so pleasantly discussed. God grant him grace.'

'Amen!' was the response from every heart.

But fears were then entertained, by those who knew nothing personally of the young priest, that he would not do much good to the cause of Christianity, however devoted he might become to the Papal religion. Rome and her errors--her idolatries, her superstitions, her infidelities, absurdities, abuses, and anti-Christian practices--were now freely discussed; and many a deep sigh escaped the souls of those men, when they reflected upon the probability of some dreadful persecution arising, to oppose the love of God, and his commandments, by the malice and inventions of men.

'I know not,' said Bilney, 'if in this land, we shall ever see the Church purified from its corruptions. I cannot bear to see the grace of God changed into unmeaning ceremonies, pompous penances, bead counting, prayer-doling, fines, stripes, penalties, punishment fastings, feastings, pilgrimages, and such a countless variety of ignorant and wicked inventions, as contrary to nature and religion as light is to darkness. I cannot bear to see those priests with their heads shorn, their long rows of black beads hanging down to their feet, their stuff gowns, cowls and cassocks, passing along the streets, and requiring of every man they meet a genuflection, at the sign of the cross they carry in their hands. I saw one yesterday seize a poor, ignorant, half-witted fellow who did not make obeisance to him, with violent anger, more like a demon!--oh! how abhorrent to the idea of a minister of Christ--cast him to the earth, and made him kneel in the mud and kiss the cross he held in his hand. The poor fellow trembled exceedingly, and took the cuffs and kicks of the priest as if he were a dumb ass. I felt as a brother towards the poor man; I lifted him up; and, despite the furious madness of the priest, I told him to his face that he deserved to be punished by the civil power for his violence. He dared not strike me; I believe he knew me, for he said:

'"Heretic! thou shall answer for this interference. The civil power! I defy the civil power! It has no authority over Rome! Thou shalt find that it shall avail thee nothing!" And he shook his garments in his rage. Oh! what passion lurked under that revengeful soul! I walked away with the poor man, and may expect some visitation for this act of common humanity.'

'I have already had the complaint made to the civil authorities, and it is said that thou, Bilney, didst violently assail the priest in the discharge of what he considered his religious duty. He maintained that the man was confessing to him a crime.'

'It was seen by many. Some blessed me for this act--surely they will come forward and speak the truth!'

'Such is the terror of a man's mind at being denounced as a heretic, that I question whether any townsman in the borough dare come forward and say that the priest was in the wrong.'

'This, O, worthy magistrate! this is the state of religion in Ipswich, that oppression is to be exercised in broad day, and the people see the violence, and dare not complain. Oh, dreadful day! when rulers shall no longer be a terror to evil doers, but to the innocent; when the weak shall be without the protection of law, and priests of fury predominate instead of the gospel and God's grace. I pity thee, Mr. Daundy! I pity thee, as a magistrate, in such a town!'

'I fear, Bilney, I shall one day have to pity thee if the priests get thee into their clutches. What wilt thou answer to Bishop Goldwell, against a host of witnesses which they will take care to bring against thee?'

'What? but that I am innocent, and appeal to the laws for protection!'

Daundy shook his head significantly, for he well knew the little chance which any individual had, if accused by the priests of Rome, of any crime contrary to their canons. The civil authorities might exercise their jurisdiction over the people, but ecclesiastics of Rome submitted not to their laws. Bilney was strongly urged to go into Cambridgeshire, to his friend Arthur, lest the cause of the Reformation, then beginning to dawn, should lose his services by his being cast into prison.

Conscious innocence is very bold. It may retire until called forth to suffer; but when its possessor is wanted, he will be found equal to the emergency for which he is required. By innocence in this sense, is not meant entire freedom, from in-dwelling sin; but innocence and uprightness of faith, which hates to see another suffering wrongfully without secretly desiring to defend him against the oppressor.

Bilney and Bale spent many days with Latimer and Lord De Freston, who began at this period, in consequence of the mercy and pity he showed to these men, to be suspected of heresy. They escaped this time from persecution, much through the respect which all men paid to Edmund Daundy, at Ipswich; who, though an enlightened man, was considered to be a good churchman.

A good, benevolent, and charitable man he was, as thousands have found who lived to be partakers of his bounty long after his death; and even at this day, through all the various changes of laws, customs, religious persuasions, and alterations of time, Daundy's charity is dispensed.

That Lord De Freston and his lovely daughter profited greatly by the conversation of those days, their future attentions to these good men plainly proved. They never forgot the days of Latimer's recovery.

They were happy days to Ellen, and not less so to the scholar, who daily grew in every grace which could adorn either his private or public character.

Life is very sweet to men who can feel they are improving it for eternity. It is sweet, because they walk in the ways of pleasantness and peace, notwithstanding the persecutions of those who know not God.

Latimer was a young man, with views then before him of the most brilliant kind on earth. His own father was a man of good property, having an hereditary estate of considerable worth in those days, and he had the prospect of marrying one in every way gifted with grace and qualities of mind, independently of large possessions in the county of Suffolk; so that he might be said to have earthly hopes beyond the common lot of man. Yet Latimer argued very justly, when he said to Ellen one day, as he sat in Freston Tower, and looked upon the waves:

'What would all these things have been to me--nay, dearest Ellen, and what wouldst thou have been to me--had God seen fit to let me sink to the bottom of the waves, on that memorable night, when I was so mercifully preserved?'

'I can only say, Latimer, that we must be ready to part with everything, at every moment; for they are none of them our own,' said Ellen, 'and learn to give ourselves and all we have into his hands.'

'True wisdom, my dear. May I never forget the changes which have been wrought within these few weeks! May I ever remember the Lord's hand, accept all I have as from Him, do all I do as unto Him, and yield all my thoughts, hopes, and wishes to His will!'

'Ah, dear Latimer! in such faith, how delightful it is to wait all our appointed time, until our change comes!'

It would be useless to give the account of Latimer's journey to Padua, his interview with Erasmus, his giving up his Fellowship at All-Souls', Oxford, and his return to Ipswich after these things.

Strange changes quickly followed, which shall be discussed as more in accordance with the narrative.