Everett-Green Evelyn
For the Faith: A Story of the Young Pioneers of Reformation in Oxford
"It is here that his case is so hopeless. To subvert the authority of the Pope is to shake the church to her foundations. But nothing I say can make Clarke understand this. It is the one point upon which he is obstinately heretical."
"But you still have hopes of inducing him to submit?"
"I shall not cease my efforts, or cease to hope," answered Dr. Higdon earnestly, "for in truth I know not what will be the end if he remain obstinate or, rather, I fear too much what that end will be. If it lay with the cardinal, there would be hope; but the bishop is obdurate. He is resolved to proceed to the uttermost lengths. Pray Heaven Clarke may yet see the folly of remaining obstinate, and may consent at the last to submit as the others have done!"
"Have all done so?"
"There is Dalaber yet to win," answered the dean, "and there are a few more-Sumner for one, and Radley for another-who have not given the assurance yet. If Clarke would submit, they would do so instantly; but they are near to him in the prison, and they can speak with each other, and so they hang together as yet, and what he does they will do. But their peril is not so great as his. The bishop has not named any, save Garret, Ferrar, and Clarke, as the victims of the extreme penalty of the law. Dalaber may well be included if he remains obdurate, and therefore I am greatly concerned that he should be persuaded.
"Think you that you can work upon him, were I to win you permission to see him? I have heard that you did visit him awhile since, when he was kept less strictly than is now the case. What was his frame of mind then? and what hopes have you of leading him to a better one?"
Arthur sat considering awhile, and then said:
"Dalaber is one of those upon whom none can rightly reckon. At one moment he will be adamant, at another yielding and pliable. One day his soul will be on fire, and nothing would move him; but in another mood he would listen and weigh every argument, and might be easily persuaded. One thing is very sure: gentleness would prevail with him a thousand times more than harshness. A friend might prevail where a foe would have no chance. I will gladly visit him, and do what I can; but I would fain, if it might he accorded, see Master Garret first, and take word to Dalaber of mine own knowledge that he has promised submission."
The dean considered awhile, and then rose to his feet.
"Come, then," he said. "It is not known in Oxford yet; but the cardinal has sent Garret here to me, to be kept in close ward till the day of the reconciliation, now at hand. This is what is to take place. The men who have been excommunicated and set in ward, but who are ready to make submission, will be brought to trial a few days hence, and will sign their recantation, as we call it, to the cardinal, in the presence of the judges, who will then order them to take part in this act of penance, after which they will be admitted once more to communion, and have liberty to resume their studies, or to return to their homes and friends, as best pleases them. Thus we trust to purge Oxford of heresy. But if Master Clarke remain obdurate, and others with him, I fear me there will be some other and terrible scene ere this page of her history closes."
"Let me see Master Garret," said Arthur abruptly. "I would I might also see Master Clarke. But whenever I ask this boon it is refused me."
The dean shook his head slowly.
"No one is permitted access to him, save those who go to reason with him; and so far we reason in vain. But I will admit you to the other prisoner for a few minutes. You have been acquainted with him in the past?"
"Slightly. He has never ranked as my friend, but I have known him and met him. He is of my college, and I have been sorry that he has used his knowledge of Oxford to spread trouble there."
Garret sprang up as Arthur entered the bare but not unwholesome room where he was confined. He had grown very thin with the long strain of flight, imprisonment, and hardship that had been his portion of late. He greeted Arthur eagerly, his eyes aglow, and on hearing somewhat of his errand he broke out into rapid and excited speech.
"Tell Dalaber that the time is not ripe-that it lingers yet. I have been warned of God in a dream. My hour has not yet come. There is work yet for me to do, and how am I straitened till it be accomplished! Yes; you need not shrink from me as from a blasphemer. I hold that every man must follow in the steps of the Lord, and drink of His cup, and be baptized with His baptism. But He waited for His hour. He hid Himself and fled and conveyed Himself away. He paid tribute to kings and rulers. He submitted Himself to earthly parents, earthly potentates. And shall we not do likewise? I would lay down my life in His service, and He knows it. But something within me tells me that my work is not yet done. And the church is yet holy, though she has in part corrupted herself. If she will but cleanse herself from her abominations, then will we work in her and not against her. Even the cardinal has spoken of the purifying which must be accomplished. Yes, he has used good and godly words, and I will wait and hope and trust. The Lord would be served by one body, of which He is the Head. He wants one, and not many. Let us have patience. Let us wait. Let us watch and pray. And if we have to submit ourselves to painful humiliation in this life, let us fix our eyes upon the crown of glory which is laid up for us in the heavens, and which fadeth not away."
Arthur was convinced of the truth of what Dr. Higdon had spoken, and saw that Garret's mind was made up to do what was required of him. The young man was glad enough that this should be the case; but he felt a certain contempt for the facile disposition of the man, who, after spending years of his life and running innumerable perils in the circulation of these books, could in a few weeks consent to become a participant in the ceremony of solemnly burning them, in acknowledgment that they were dangerous and evil in their tendencies. Far greater was his admiration for Clarke, who, in obedience to the vows he had taken, would have no hand in distributing the forbidden volumes, yet in the hour of trial and peril refused to take part in the ceremony which would be regarded by the spectators and by the world at large as an admission that the Word of God was not for the people, and that he, as a teacher and preacher, had spoken unadvisedly with his lips in expounding the living Word to his hearers.
With his mind full of these things Arthur found his way to the prison, and was conducted to Dalaber's cell, which was more closely guarded than at first. The young man, who had been prostrated by fever at the first, had recovered in a measure now, but looked very gaunt and wan and haggard; and he seized Arthur's hands, and wrung them closely in his, whilst tears of emotion stood in his eyes.
"I thought you had forgotten me, Arthur!"
"Surely you know that I would have come had I been able. But of late neither bribes nor entreaties have availed to gain me entrance. How has it been with you, my friend?"
"Oh, I am weary of my life-weary of everything. I would they would end it all as soon as may be; death is better than this death in life. I am sick for the sight of the sun, for a breath of heaven's pure air, for the sight of my Freda's face. Tell me, was it all a dream, or did she indeed come to me?"
"She came, and she would have come again, but they made your captivity closer at that time. She grows thin and pale herself in grief and hunger for your fate, Anthony.
"But today I come to you with glad tidings of hope. In a few days from this, if you act but wisely and reasonably, as your friends and companions are about to do, you will stand a free man, and you will see your Freda face to face, none hindering."
He staggered back almost as though he had been struck.
"I shall be free! I shall see Freda! Speak, Arthur! Of what are you dreaming?"
"I am not dreaming at all. I come from the Dean of Cardinal College, and from Master Garret, whom he has there in ward, but who is also to be released at the same time. I was permitted speech with him, that I might bring word to you, and that you might know in very truth what was about to happen."
"And what is that? Speak!" cried Anthony, who was shaking all over like an aspen.
To some temperaments hope and joy are almost more difficult to bear than the blows of adverse fortune. Had the commissary come with news that Dalaber was to suffer death for his faith, he would not have found him so full of tremors, so breathless and shaken.
"I have come to speak," answered Arthur kindly, as he seated himself upon the low pallet bed, and made Dalaber sit beside him. "It is in this wise, Anthony. When you and your comrades were taken, the heads and authorities were in great fear that all Oxford was infect and corrupt by some pestilent heresy; but having found and carefully questioned the young men of their faith, and having read your confession, and heard more truly what hath been the teaching they have heard and received, they find nothing greatly amiss, and are now as anxious to deal gently and tenderly with you all as at first they were hot to punish with severity. Had they the power to do as they would, you might all be sent speedily to your homes; but they have to satisfy the cardinal, and, worse still, the bishop, and hence there must somewhat be done ere peace be restored, to assure him that Oxford is purged and clean."
"And what will they do?" asked Dalaber, who was still quivering in every nerve.
"Marry, nothing so very harsh or stern," answered Arthur, who was feeling his way carefully, trying to combine truth and policy, but erring distinctly on the side of the latter. "But those later books which were found in your hiding place and Radley's room, which are more dangerous and subversive than any that have gone before, are to be cast solemnly out of the place; and, in truth, I think with cause. See, I have brought you one or two to look at, to show you how even Martin Luther contradicts himself and blasphemes. How can the Spirit of God be in a man who will say such contrary things at different times?"
And Arthur showed to Anthony a few marked passages in certain treatises, in which the reformer, as was so often the case in his voluminous and hastily-conceived and written works, had flatly contradicted himself, to the perplexity and confusion of his followers.
"Such books are full of danger," pursued Arthur, speaking rapidly now. "I say nothing about the translated Scriptures; but the works of a man, and one who is full of excitement and the spirit of controversy, are like to be dangerous to the young. Let the church read and decide, but do not you disseminate such works. It may be more sinful than you have thought.
"And now for what will soon happen. You did see the same in London once. There will be a fire in Carfax, and those who have circulated and read such books will walk each with his fagot, and cast first these and then the books upon the flames. So will the bishop be satisfied, and so will peace be restored.
"Be not proud and disobedient, Anthony, and refuse to be reconciled with the mother you have offended. The cardinal has shown even to Master Garret the error of his ways, and he will be one to share in this act of submission and reconciliation. He bid me tell you that the hour has not yet come for any further blow to be struck. He, like Master Clarke, now begins to hope that, having pleaded with their mother, she will hear and cleanse herself from all defilement and impurity. He will submit and be reconciled; and if he will do this, surely you, friend Anthony, need not stand aloof."
Anthony was pacing the floor in hot excitement. He recalled the scene at St. Paul's the previous year, and his face was working with emotion.
"Am I to be called upon to burn the Word of God, as though it were an unholy thing, to be cast forth from the earth?"
"No," answered Arthur boldly; "you will only be required to burn a few pamphlets of Martin Luther and other reformers."
And he vowed in his heart that he would make good this word, and that, whatever other men might do, Anthony's basket should contain nothing but those later and fiery diatribes, which were certainly not without their element of danger and error and falsehood.
"And if I refuse?"
Arthur answered with a patience and gentleness that went farther than any sort of threat could have done.
"If you refuse, friend Anthony, I fear you will find yourself in danger, and that not in a good or holy cause. For if Master Garret and your comrades are willing to make a small sacrifice of pride, and do a small penance to satisfy the bishop, who is in some sort your lawful ruler in the church, so that peace and amity may be restored, and hatred and variance banished from our university, it were an ungracious act that you should refuse to join with them, for they have sought by patience and kindliness to restore you to your places; and surely it cannot be God's will that you should hold back for this small scruple, and remain cut off from His church by excommunication, as must surely be if you will not be advised and humble yourself thus."
"What would Freda bid me do?" suddenly asked Anthony, who was much agitated.
Arthur was thankful that he did not ask a question about Clarke. The young man was doing his utmost to win his friend, and had been reared in a school where it was lawful to do evil for the sake of the good which should follow. But he did not wish to be driven to falsehood, and it was with relief that he heard this question.
"When Freda came to see you she bid you live-live for her sake," he answered, without hesitation. "Let me leave that word with you-live for her sake. Do not fling away your life recklessly. She has begged that you will live. Therefore, for love of her, if for no other reason, make this submission-be reconciled, and live."
Anthony's face was working; he was greatly moved; the tears rained down his cheeks. But at last he seized Arthur's hands in his, and cried:
"I will! I will! God forgive me if I judge amiss; but for her sake I will do it, and live."
Chapter XV: The Fire At Carfax
"Magda, I want my reward."
She raised her eyes to his face, a deep flush suffused her cheek, and then faded, leaving her somewhat paler than before.
"Thy reward, Arthur? And what is that?"
"Nothing less than thyself, my beloved," he answered, with a passionate tenderness. "I have thy heart, thy love; these have been enough this long while. Now I want thee, thine own self. Why should we wait longer? Art thou not ready to give thyself to me-now?"
She let her lover draw her close to his side. She looked up at him, and saw that his face was grave and pale. This gravity had grown upon him of late, and she saw that lines of anxiety had begun to appear on his brow, which had not been there six months ago. Her woman's instinct of seeking to comfort and support came instantly to her help.
"I will do all that thou dost wish of me, Arthur. If thou hast some trouble, let me share it. A wife should be the helpmeet of her husband in all things. If I am soon to be that, let me begin mine office now."
He bent his head and kissed her, and drawing her hand through his arm, began pacing to and fro in the budding nut walk, where the tender flickering green of early springtide was shimmering in the golden sunlight.
"My Magda, I have been thinking much of late. I have many plans, and some of them must needs be carried out in all haste. But ere I can fulfil them as I would, I must needs have my wife at my side to help and support me. There will be woman's work as well as man's, and such work as thou dost love."
"Tell me," she said, lifting her eyes to his face.
"Magda, thou dost know that tomorrow there will be a form of trial, and Anthony Dalaber and others will make submission, be condemned to do penance, and in a few days will fulfil that penance, and then be restored to communion with the church, and to liberty and life?"
"Yes, I know," answered Magdalen gravely.
"And when this has been done, and they are free, it will be better, far better, that they should quit Oxford for a while, and remain in some seclusion, away from prying eyes and from the suspicion which must attach to all those upon whom the taint of heresy has once fallen. Oxford will be no place for them for a while."
"I can believe that they would be happier elsewhere," she answered. "But I sometimes fear for Anthony. He will suffer from agonies of shame and remorse; I know he will. Thou dost think him right to make submission, but he will feel that in so doing he has denied his faith and his Lord. I fear for him, and so does Freda. She is very unhappy."
"I know it," answered Arthur quickly; "I can see both sides of this most difficult question of conscience. But I may not be the one to blame Anthony, for I have greatly persuaded him to this act of submission, and I would that, if blame attach to any in Freda's mind, she should throw that blame on me. I will speak with her later anent the matter.
"But, Magda, this is the plan I am revolving in my mind. I would provide for Anthony and for others a place of rest and peace and refreshment, where they can regain health of body and serenity of spirit. And where better than at the old manor near to Poghley, where we have spent so many happy days of yore? But I would have my wife with me there-not as guest, but as mistress of the house. And Freda would have a home with us, and thy father likewise, when he desired it. But thou dost know how that he greatly desires to visit Italy; and wert thou my wife, and Freda beneath our care, then he could start with a free heart upon his journey. And we would take up our abode together at Poghley, and live such a life as I have sometimes dreamed of, but which has ever seemed too fair and peaceful for attainment in this world of strife."
Magdalen's eyes grew bright and big with the rush of thoughts that came over her.
"And thou wouldst have Anthony and his friends, and would seek for them there health, both of body and of spirit? Oh, that would be a sweet and commendable work, Arthur. I would that I might share it with thee."
"And so thou shalt, my beloved, for alone I should be sorely let and hindered. Anthony shall be our guest and kinsman-soon to be our brother; for he is without home, and his brother in Dorset is a man of fierce temper, and has sent him a violently accusing letter on hearing what has happened in Oxford, which has cut him to the quick. He will be in sore need of comfort and repose; and if there be others in like case with him, whose friends will only persecute and revile them, then let them come to us also. Ours shall be a house of refuge for the distressed and oppressed.
"Thou wilt not refuse to aid me in that task, Magda? I know that thy heart yearns always over all who suffer from sorrow and pain, even though they may in some sort have brought this upon themselves."
"I should love such a task," answered the girl earnestly; "I would ask nothing better myself than to tend and comfort those who have suffered in such a cause. But thou, Arthur-how hast thou come to think of such a thing? Thou hast never been one of the brethren; thou hast never been touched by heresy; thou hast ever deplored the rashness of those who have committed themselves to such courses; and yet thou art showing thyself now the friend of all."
He looked straight before him with a thoughtful smile.
"These men will be 'purged from heresy,' as it is called, ere I offer them the shelter of my house," he answered. "I am risking nothing by so doing. And in truth, sweetheart, if there were somewhat to risk, methinks I would be willing to do the same, if thou didst not shrink from the task. Whether we study the Scriptures for ourselves, or whether we let the church expound them, one lesson we always learn if we listen and read aright, and that is the lesson of charity. We are brethren in Christ, if we are bound by no closer tie-no tie of our own making. Christ was ever merciful to the sick, the afflicted, the erring, the desolate, and we are bidden to follow in His steps. He did not shut Himself up behind walls to live the life of meditation; He walked amongst men, and bid men come to Him. In lesser measure we may surely do the same; and this is what I would fain attempt in these days of trouble for so many-bind up the broken heart, give medicine to the sick, rest to the weary, cheering and comfort to those who are cast down in spirit. It may be little we can accomplish, but let us do that little with all our might. I trust and hope that God will give us His blessing, and grant us power to be a blessing to others."
Dr. Langton heard Arthur's proposal with great satisfaction. He had grown somewhat weary of his life in Oxford, and was desirous of taking a long journey into foreign countries, to pursue there some studies which would require the assistance of foreign libraries. Moreover, the frequent outbreaks of sickness now sweeping over Oxford, and especially during the summer months, had aroused his concern, and made him anxious to remove his daughters into some more healthy place. Latterly this matter had appeared likely to arrange itself, with the betrothal of the girls respectively to Anthony Dalaber and Arthur Cole. Still there might be a lapse of several years between betrothal and marriage, and he was seriously meditating the best course to pursue, when Arthur's proposition came as a solution of the problem.
Marriages were very quickly and easily performed in those days. They could be consummated at the briefest notice. And Magdalen, having given her promise, was ready to give her hand at any time that Arthur should desire, and depart with him at once for the new home, whither Freda and their father would quickly follow them, and any amongst their suffering friends who, on release, desired that haven of peace and rest.
The trial of the tainted students was over. It was Arthur who brought word to the Bridge House as to what had been the result. All day Freda had moved to and fro with restless steps and burning eyes. Her whole being seemed rent asunder by the depth of her emotion. What would Anthony say and do? How would he comport himself? Would he yield and sign the recantation, and join in the act of humiliation and penance, or would he at the last stand firm and refuse compliance? Which choice did she wish him to make? Could she bear to see him treated as an outcast and heretic-he, her faithful, devoted Anthony? But would he ever be quite the same in her eyes, if he, to save himself from the pains and penalties which beset him, drew back and denied those things which he believed?
She knew not what to think, what to wish. She paced the house and garden with restless steps, and when Arthur came at last, her agitation was so great that she could not speak a word.
But her face was eloquent of her emotion, and he kept her not a moment in suspense.
"All has gone well," he answered, "with Anthony as with the rest. They were gently handled and fairly spoken. The confession of faith demanded of them was such as no Christian man could hesitate to make. They were admonished for disobedience, but the errors with which they were charged were not sternly pressed home. They were asked if they desired to be reconciled and restored to communion; and on affirming that they did, they were only bidden to take part in the public act of penance of which they had already heard. All consented to do this, and were then removed to their several prisons; and four days hence will this act of penance be performed, after which our friends will be restored to us and to the church once more."
"And Anthony consented with the rest?" asked Freda, with pale lips and wistful eyes.
"He did."
Arthur looked her full in the face as he spoke.
"Anthony might perchance have refused compliance, had it not been for me, Freda. If thou hast any blame for him in this matter, let it rest upon my head, not upon his."
"Thou didst persuade him?"
"I did. I would do so again. Anthony is young, hot headed, impulsive, rash. Whatever he may grow to in the future, whatever convictions he may then hold, he is not fit yet to be a leader of men, to take up an attitude of defiance to the laws and statutes of the university-leaving the church out of the question-to ruin his career in an impulse which may not be a lasting one. Let him and others have patience. Those things which they ask they may likely obtain without such fierce struggle and such peril. Let men bear the yoke in their youth; it does them no hurt. To be cast forth from the communion of the church would be a greater hurt to Anthony, body and soul, than to do a penance which may do violence to some of his cherished convictions. In this world we ofttimes have to choose, not between absolute right and wrong, but between two courses, neither of which is perfect; and then we are forced to consider which is the less imperfect of the two. I trow that Anthony has made a wise choice; but if to you it seems not so, I pray you blame me rather than him, for I did plead with him more than once, and right earnestly, to take this way. I did use your name also, and begged of him to live for your sake; and methinks that argument did more prevail with him than any other I could have urged."
Freda drew her breath rather hard, but the expression of her face softened.
"You did bid him do it for my sake? Did he think that I would have thus bidden him act?"
"I know not that, but it is like. Remember, sweet Freda, how that, when thou didst see him in his prison, thou didst rain kisses and tears upon his face, and bid him live for thee. How could I not remind him of that? And wouldst thou not rather that he should live than die?"
"Oh yes, oh yes! I cannot bear to think of that other terrible peril. I am torn in twain by grief and perplexity. Why do they make it so hard for men to take the perfect way? He would be faithful unto death-I know he would-if he could but see his course clear. But as it is, who can tell what is the best and most right way? To be cut off from the Church of Christ-it is so terrible! Yet to tamper with conscience-is not that terrible too?"
"They made it as easy for them as was possible," answered Arthur gently; "let not us make it hard afterwards. Anthony would suffer-it is his nature-whatever course he took. To be excommunicate is keen pain to one of his devout nature; to do penance for what he holds to be no act of sin or heresy will pain him, likewise-not the humiliation of the pageant alone, but the fear lest he has taken a false step and denied his Lord. It is for us, his friends, to receive him joyfully, and restore him to peace and comfort. Be sure that Christ would pardon him, even though he may find it hard to pardon himself."
Freda sighed, but her face softened. Magdalen asked a whispered question.
"And Master Clarke-did he submit?"
"He was not called," answered Arthur gravely; "some say he is too sick to appear, others that he has recanted, but has been spared joining in the procession because that he and two more are not able to walk. Others, again, say that he will not abjure the errors with which he is charged, nor take part in the prescribed penance. I have not been suffered to see him. I know not how it may be. But in sooth, if he be sick as they say, it were time they let him forth from his prison. It is not right nor justice that men should be done to death in noisome dungeons when no crime has been proven against them."
The girls' faces were pale with horror and pity.
"Canst thou do nothing, Arthur?" pleaded Magdalen. "Thou art rich, and powerful, and well known to so many. Canst thou do nothing to aid them?"
"I will do what I can, once the act of penance be over," he answered. "Till then it is useless to stir, for they will seek to work upon them to the very last moment by threats, or by argument, or by entreaty. Should they prove obstinate to the last, I know not what will befall. But if they are like to perish in the prison, it may be that the dean's word will prevail for their release. He is grieved that one so godly in his life and conversation should suffer so cruelly. When this act has been accomplished, belike they may listen to the words of his friends, unless the cruel will of the bishop prevail, and he is sent to a fiery death."
It was a very quiet wedding on the morrow that united Magdalen Langton and Arthur Cole as man and wife. They were married at an early hour in St. Mary's Church, and set off that same day for the old manor house, which was to be their future home. Freda could not, however, be persuaded to accompany them on that day.
"I must see the fire at Carfax," she said; "I would see it with mine own eyes. Afterwards I will come to you, and will bring Anthony with me; but not till I have seen this thing for myself. I cannot help it. I must be there."
Magdalen entreated awhile, but Freda stood firm.
"I must see the fire at Carfax," she answered; and at last they forbore to press her, knowing her mind was made up.
It wanted but a few days to Easter when the day came for which Freda had waited with feverish, sleepless eyes. The sun rose clear and bright birds carolled in the gladness of their hearts; all nature was filled with the joy of happy springtide; but there was a heavy cloud resting upon Freda's spirits.
"I will not blame him; I will speak no word of reproach. In this hard strait should I have been more brave? It may be he is doing what he believes most right. I will not believe him unfaithful to his truer self. Who can judge, save God alone, of what is the most right thing to do in these dark and troublous days?"
She rose and donned a black gown, and shrouded herself in a long cloak, the hood of which concealed her face. She was very pale, and there were rings around her eyes that told of weeping and of vigil. Oh, how she had prayed for Anthony, that he might be pardoned wherein he might sin, strengthened wherein he was weak, purified and enlightened in the inner man, and taught by the Holy Spirit of God!
