CHAPTER XXXII.

THE MONASTERIES.

The space alloted to this work will not be wide enough to embrace the gradual progress of Wolsey to that greatness which he attained. The object in view was to show that he was anything but a mean man in his birth, though had that been to, it would have been no disgrace, and that he was brought up in his youth with an early love of everything that was generous and praiseworthy. It was not until his youthful disappointment had left him nothing but the pursuit of his own gratification in the fields of ambition and vain-glory, that Wolsey's character changed from a lover of truth, virtue, and humility, to become an aspiring, time-serving politician.

It is strange that a man who had assumed the priesthood, at that time the vehicle of letters in some few, but of enormous bigotry and superstition in the mass, should bury his love of truth in the vast vortex of worldly ambition. He left truth to shine in his native place, whilst he pursued the phantom of idolatry through all the labyrinths of expedient invention. His love of literature he could not abandon. It was part and parcel of his life, which remained with him through all his progress, and has served to extend his fame through ages of darkness, even to the present time. His erudition was, beyond all doubt, genuine and powerful.

He took no particular delight in encouraging individual instances of mental superiority, though the learned Erasmus speaks so flatteringly of his sumptuous entertainments to the stars of genius, as to make a seat at his table one of the things most desired in England. From the great men of letters in his day, he never called forth a sentiment of gratitude for any encouragement he had given them. With the exception of Sir Thomas More, scarcely any literary character received any support from him; and in him he supported a successor.

His views comprehended the revival of the whole people from ignorance by the means of scholastic discipline; and his ideas of the diffusion of learning were connected with schools, seminaries, and colleges, the very architecture of which should speak the taste of their projector.

Wolsey had, in early life, imbibed a species of contempt for the monastic impositions, which retained the people in ignorance, but he could not become indifferent to the lustre of the Papacy, to which his soul aspired; no, not even for the sake of truth. It was hence that the patronage of the literature he so much admired as the production of the universities and schools became confined to men who upheld the Papal dominion.

He obtained power as legate to subdue the monasteries, only because he conceived that their wealth would be converted into a channel more conducive to the dignity and grandeur of Rome; and as the popedom was, in his ambitious eye, the very kingdom of all kingdoms of the earth, and he was the man to sit upon that throne, he thought that by entitling himself to the respect of England for his encouragement of learning, he should one day receive the distinction he coveted.

He was made to do much for letters, but little for the truth. His persecution of the reformers will sufficiently prove this. But whilst Wolsey journeyed to power, the friends of his youth journeyed to heaven through a straight and narrow path which was not suited to his ambition.

Lord De Freston, Latimer, and Ellen, and a few more independent and eminent spirits in the neighborhood of Ipswich, became candidates for the crown of glory through the medium of persecution.

Love, truth, fidelity, wisdom, knowledge, peace, and joy, together with some warm friendship from kindred spirits of intelligence, made the years roll on, not without a glowing interest, hope, and persuasion, that ultimately the doctrines of the dawning reformation would prevail.

As Wolsey's power increased, there was a certain increase of learning which added much to the desired improvement of morals among the Romish clergy, who, at that time, were notorious for licentiousness, because of the ease with which they could both obtain and grant pardons. The monasteries, though the seats of hospitality, were also the seats of imposition and secret vice, which became at last so glaring as to awaken strong minds to a sense of their shameless prostitution.

Wolsey, who had risen to the dignity of Cardinal, took advantage of the cry then rising, to sweep off the lesser houses, and to impose certain fines upon others for the benefit of his foundations of learning. He occasioned, as would naturally be expected, great grief in some districts, where the monks were far less vicious than in others; but it was a strange infatuation in him, that whist he was pulling down with one hand the monasteries and monks, he should be with the other encouraging the nunneries, which were then attaining such wealth as to make them desired by the great.

News reached Ipswich, that the great man himself, though so austere and severe towards the inferior clergy, was anything but a pattern of virtue.

'I have here,' said Latimer to the Lord De Freston, 'a singular production of Dan Lydgate's, and if our friend in power should catch sight of it, it might so happen that even Lydgate would lose his priesthood:

Alice De Clinton, Prioress of Winton, Summer's for thee no more; The Cardinal's favor Has in it such savor, Thou shalt not long deplore.

Winter were summer known, Melting for such a crown, Alice De Clinton's call: The proud one can change From her haughtiest range, O'er the turrets of Goldwell Hall.

The Abbess De Winter, No matter the splinter, Is fit for the priory found; And the Winter nuns, Whom nobody shuns, Shall in Winter fires abound.

O, who would not bend, To the Cardinal's friend, Be she what she may chance to be; For 'tis better for her Such a place to prefer, So becoming her dignity.'

'Singular, indeed, it is. I hear that Warham has complained to the King of his favorite's proceedings, and that Wolsey is likely to be in disgrace.'

'I heard as much through Wentworth, only yesterday, who was telling me, also, that the Cardinal had made his peace with the King, by protesting that the appointment of the Abbess of Winton was only under the hope, or at least, with the proviso, that the King approved it.'

'Did you hear the King's commands to the Cardinal? "See to it, Wolsey, this appointment displeases us. We are not used to exalt proud ladies, who can be humble only as it may suit my Lord Cardinal. Thou mayst protect thine own favorites, but not at the cost of the church, my lord. Therefore, for shame's sake, let us not have this monstrous fair one made the Abbess of Winton."'

'Ah, my Lord De Freston, this is no news then unto thee; but I can perchance tell thee something which, as yet, thou knowest not; for only as I left Ipswich did the messenger arrive. The imperious Allen and his executioners have arrived to suppress the monasteries of Suffolk, and confiscate all the revenues to the crown. A court will be held to-morrow at the priory of St. Peter's; and Alneshborne, as being one of the smaller fraternities, will be one of the first to suffer. Our friend John must be apprised of his coming.'

'He will not be surprised. Already has he received tidings of the suppression of the religious houses in Essex and Cambridgeshire, and though a vague thought had dwelt with him that from Wolsey's knowledge of the regularity and piety of his order he might be spared, more especially as the great man, when a little man, was a welcome student within the walls of his priory, yet we shall find him prepared to obey the Pope's legate in temporalities, and that is all he supposes that will be required of him. We will visit him ourselves, my son.'

It did not take long for De Freston's boatmen to speed over the waves of the Orwell to Alneshborne Priory. Short, however, as was the time, they found the whole fraternity assembled in the hall to hear the summons already issued by authority of the legate. So quickly did the Cardinal's emissaries proceed to the work appointed them.

They arrived in time to hear the Pope's Bull read, authorizing the dissolution of the monasteries of Romboro, Felixtow, Bromehil, Bliborow, and Montjoye, and upon the site of the ancient foundation of St. Peter's, at Ipswich, the building a new seat of learning. And for the better effecting of which great and godly purpose, all the revenues belonging to the said monasteries were to be forthwith entirely at the disposal of the Cardinal, and to be used by him in furtherance of his proposed object, to the glory of God and the honor of the church of Rome, etc.

Signed, CLEMENS, PAPA SEPTIMUS.

The most singular extension of authority was that which ran thus:

'In pursuance of the powers vested in us, we the Cardinal, as the Pope's legate, do hereby grant unto the united brethren of Alneshborne, full powers of absolution from their monastic vows; and to be exempt from all suit or service to the Priories of Woodbridge, or St. Peter's, Ipswich. That from the date hereof, and the delivery of a schedule of all the property belonging unto the said community, that society is henceforth dissolved, and the members are at liberty to seek their livelihood in whatever manner they may be able, and wheresoever they may be pleased to go, either within or beyond the Pope's dominions.'

How kind and considerate it was of the Pope to take away all their property, and give it to one man, and that man one whom the dispossessed remembered as a boy, frequently indulging in friendly conversation with them! How very kind it was of him, when he had deprived them of everything, to permit them to go about their business! John of Alneshborne, a fine old man, stood with his placid face beaming kindness upon his brethren, as Allen--Wolsey's commissioner--read, line by line, in a language they understood too well, the orders of his master.

The orbs of the fine old patriarch were dim with tears, which, before the last concluding 'Vale et Vade,' literally ran down his venerable cheeks.

However small had been the real utility of their order, there was a quiet, inobtrusive seclusion in their position on the banks of the Orwell, which every member of that community had for years enjoyed undisturbed. The venerable fraternity had spoken together upon the probability of their dissolution; yet they evidently did not expect the day to be so near. When it came, it found them very unwilling to part, and gave them great surprise and sorrow.

Lord De Freston and William Latimer looked with compassion. Each resolved to offer them present help, until they could find some locality or employment suited to their habits. Men long accustomed to the solitude of monastic life, where everything is conducted in regular order of time and occupation, do not find themselves about to be separated without emotion. They could see each other depart this life in their cells, with less tenderness and more resignation, than in the midst of life, or rather in its decline, to see each other take leave of home, for poverty, wretchedness, and uncertainty. The aged Prior was the first to break the silence, and did so with words which proved him to be possessed of those fraternal qualities of heart, which had felt the command, 'Love as brethren, be pitiful, be courteous.'

'Brethren,' he said, 'our Society is this day dissolved, for I have no power to resist the Papal Bull; neither can I think of retaining the keys of the monastery a day longer than the time allotted us, forty-eight hours. Yet I cannot give up the society of those whom I have now, for forty-four years, presided over, without one single word of discord amongst us, without deep sorrow. I came myself from Britany, and, as you all know, whatever property I possessed was given to this monastery. We have lived here together in harmony, and I had hoped we should here have ended our years. I mourn to think how soon we must be scattered, and have our interest in each other dissolved; but ye have all heard the mandate. Farewell, ye happy hours of solitude and devotion! farewell, sharers of our common fortune, we must be parted! but whither shall we go? You, Robert Wolfren, where will you journey? You, Francis Wealey, where will you find abode? You, Thomas Wegg, might have found an asylum in Essex, but the Monastery of Walton is dissolved. Alan Aleto, farewell! Michael Milner, it will avail you nothing to go to Dodnesh; Lionel Foster, we were brothers before we came here, would we could so live together until we die! But where shall we all go? The world is wide enough, but it is, to our long habits of confinement, a desolation. If we must part, let us at least spend our last two days in devotion, that we may know how to commit ourselves to the waves of the world. Come, brethren, let us all to the chapel.'

It was then that Lord De Freston spoke:

'I have known you all long years gone by. I forget not your kindness to the outcast hermit of Holy Wells, nor to your reception of his bones among you. Ye showed charity to me, also, on that pitiless night of my superstitious vow and vigil; but, though I see my errors in those things, the kindness of your fraternity shall not pass unacknowledged. It is but a short journey over the water to my walls. In them I have room for you all: and neither shall any want, though he may be deprived of everything, as long as the Manor of Freston can support you. Grieve not then, my aged friends, at the present diversion of your property. Ye shall enjoy the privilege of each other's society, even though I am not an advocate for monastic seclusion. Every man should learn to live alone, that he may know how best to enjoy the society of his fellow-creatures. I will go with you to your chapel, and consult further with you upon your future plans.'

The fraternity were as much overcome by this generosity as they had been by the cruelties of their sudden ejection.

They repaired to their chapel, spent an hour in devotion, and returned to talk over their miseries, and what they should do.

Allen became as punctual in taking possession as he had been precise in his declaration of the law, and two days afterwards the monks of Alneshborne were located in the mansion of Lord De Freston. Theirs was, however, a merciful lot compared with the fate of hundreds who, at this time, became deprived of house, home, property, and comforts, which some had certainly greatly abused in every way, but which others had conscientiously preserved.

No men were more sensitively alive to the beauties of scenery than these retired Augustines. It was curious to see them assembled in the fifth story of Freston Tower, watching the progress of vessels bringing Caen stone purchased with the property of their own monastery, to build the College of St. Peters'.

One thing, and a good one, attended the change. The charity of Lord De Freston did not stop with receiving them into his hall, but he endeavored, and with some success, to cultivate their minds, and to bring them to the indulgence of some higher privileges than their cloistered seclusion had allowed.

He acted the part of a good Samaritan, by pouring into their wounded minds an oil of such efficacy, that it led to the conversion of more than the Prior; and their banishment, as they first called it, became their freedom.

They remained there until, by degrees, they found employment. One became a teacher in Wolsey's new school; another found a situation with the Abbots of Bury; a third went to Marseilles, another to Spain, another to Rome, until they gradually separated. But one, Prior John, died at Freston. He perfectly recovered from the infatuation of his early superstition, and for some time became the enlightened companion of the truly noble lord, who was his friend in the hour of need.

So perfectly cured was he of his monastic seclusion, that he entirely dispensed with the external trumpery of his order, and appeared in Ipswich and its vicinity, under the title of the Reformed Monk. He was a frequent visitor to Latimer and his wife, in their mansion in Brook Street: and here he was staying when Bilney preached at St. George's Chapel. Such an impression did that Reformer make upon this monk's mind, that Lord Wentworth, who had authority to quell the growing love of spiritual liberty then conspicuous in Suffolk, had marked John of Alneshborne, late of the fraternity of Augustines, as a seditious heretic.

It is probable that, had he lived but a few years longer, he would have been a sharer in the martyr's trials. He was already a sharer with his friends, Latimer and De Freston, in the onus then attached to those who professed to abhor the corruptions of Rome, and desired to see the Christian people of England emancipated from the slavery of ignorance. He was often heard to say, that he rejoiced even in the dissolution of his priory, since it had been instrumental in his own conversion.

He died one day, as he sat reading the prophet Isaiah, in Freston Tower. The old man had not complained, though the lord of the castle had said to him:

'John, you do not look well.'

His reply was singular: 'My soul is too big for my body.'

'How so?' inquired De Freston.

'It is grown so large since I left Alneshborne; and as I sit reading in this lofty turret, I seem to myself to grow out of myself, and to expand in love to _all_ men.'

The old man had scarcely said the words before his head fell gently on the side of his high wooden chair, and thus the Monk of Alneshborne sighed away his spirit.