Faith in Conflict: INTRODUCTION

by Allegra Villarreal

The English Reformation is usually attributed to the whims of a capricious king, Henry VIII, and his desire for a new wife. But this isn’t the whole story. At the tail end of the 14th century, John Wycliffe, a Roman Catholic theologian, called for a reform of Western Christianity and thus was founded the “Lollard Movement.” Lollards outlined “Twelve Conclusions,” which included a call for an end to clerical celibacy, pilgrimage, the belief in transubstantiation, religious war, and for a separation of church and state powers. They were a small group and their numbers reduced further when “Lollard” became a synonym for “heretic” but their ideas anticipated the larger Protestant Reformation by nearly 150 years.

Though the Protestant Reformation is often dated to the publication of Martin Luther’s Ninety-five Theses, it actually came four years later, in 1521, with the Edict of Worms which officially banned all citizens of the Holy Roman Empire from defending or spreading Luther’s “heretical” ideas. Luther argued that the immense wealth of the Church and its hierarchical structure had created a system that rewarded corruption and encouraged vice. He was particularly critical of the practice of selling “Indulgences”— certificates that guaranteed absolution of sin in the afterlife—which connected to his belief that it was not through practice (giving charity, good deeds, ritual observance of holidays) but through faith alone that one could be saved (sola fide). This matter of salvation—and whether acts or faith guarantee it—was the heart of the Catholic/Protestant theological divide.

It is no coincidence that it happened when it did: the printing press made the dissemination of knowledge much easier throughout the Continent, specifically translations of the Bible from Latin into other languages, including English. Knowledge could now travel fast, especially among scholars and the upper classes; this is how, eventually, Henry VIII was exposed to Luther’s arguments. In 1521, he defended the Roman Catholic Church against Luther’s accusations, earning him the title “Defender of the Faith” from Pope Leo X. During this time, Protestants were brutally persecuted throughout England. But dynastic need and personal desire changed the course of English history.

Henry VIII, for his part, was never meant to be king. His other brother, Arthur, was crown prince and, at age 17, was married to Catherine of Aragon. Shortly after the wedding, Arthur took ill and died; Catherine asserted that they had never been able to consummate the marriage due to his illness and so she was betrothed to Arthur’s younger brother, Henry, in order to preserve the alliance with Spain. By all accounts, their marriage was a happy one but it did not produce a male heir. When Henry fell in love with one of Catherine’s ladies-in-waiting, Anne Boleyn, he attempted to annul his marriage on the basis of the previous marriage to his brother. This, he said, was a sin in the eyes of God and had cursed their union. His agenda, however, was clear: he wanted to marry Anne in the hopes of having a son to carry on the Tudor dynasty. But Catherine had her defenders, too, namely the Holy Roman Emperor (her nephew) who had more political influence than Henry in Rome. The Pope ultimately refused to grant the annulment. Anne Boleyn was recorded as a woman of “charm, style and wit” who likely played a key role in advancing Protestant ideas to the King. Breaking with Rome would serve two purposes: he could marry Anne and also have absolute control over both religious and secular affairs in his kingdom. After protracted battles in the early 1530s, England officially broke with Rome in 1536 establishing the Church of England with Henry as its head. Catherine was exiled from court and Anne eventually lost her life when she could not deliver on her promise to birth a future king (though, in the end, she did give birth to the woman who would become the most powerful Tudor monarch of all: Elizabeth I).

The aftermath was swift and brutal. Monasteries were sacked, monks and nuns encouraged to renounce their faiths and find spouses (as Luther and his wife, a former nun, had done), while any “graven images” (including crucifixions, venerated statues, relics, saints’ paintings, elaborate altarpieces) were defaced, stolen, or sold off to fill the king’s coffers. Services were now conducted in English, rather than Latin. Even with all these changes, the core rituals of Catholicism remained under Henry; when his son, Edward VI, succeeded him, he enforced a rigidly Protestant regime. He only ruled for six years before succumbing to illness at age 16. Mary, Catherine’s daughter, succeeded him and sought to establish the “old religion” in England through brutal persecution of Protestants (earning her the nickname she still carries: “Bloody Mary”). It was only with her successor, Elizabeth I (Anne’s daughter), that England achieved its “golden age” of relative peace and prosperity and where Protestantism gained its permanent foothold as the official religion of state.

Throughout the 16th century, both Catholics and Protestants were subject to brutal persecution under different regimes, and, as a result, each side had its venerated martyrs. Men and women who preferred to die than give up on their deeply held beliefs, trusting in the everlasting salvation guaranteed them by the God they worshipped. For this reason, neither religion could completely eradicate the other.

READING: ANNE ASKEW (A SELECTION)

Though Henry VIII established the Church of England, he did not fully adopt Protestant practice and in the later years of his reign, actively persecuted Protestants. Anne Askew (1521-1546) was one such Protestant. Her Catholic husband denounced her, turned her in to the authorities where she was called in for questioning. The next year, she was tortured on the rack at the Tower of London and ultimately burned at the stake; she was one of only two women known to suffer this fate. The account of her examination, detailed below, was meant to demonstrate the ardent fervor of committed men and women who refused to recant their beliefs or turn in fellow practitioners even to the point of death. It was smuggled out of England and published in Germany, with its contents later published under Foxe’s Acts and Monuments. The second excerpt, from the aforementioned work, details the death of Anne Askew. The final excerpt, a ballad, is attributed to Anne Askew and was widely known throughout the 16th century.

FROM ANNE ASKEW’S FIRST EXAMINATION OF ANNE ASKEW (1546)

To satisfy your expectation, good people (sayeth she), this was my first examination in the year of our Lord 1545, and in the month of March. First Christopher Dare examined me at Saddlers’ Hall, being one of the quest,1 and asked if I did not believe that the sacrament hanging over the altar was the very body of Christ really. Then I demanded this question of him: wherefore Saint Stephen was stoned to death. And he said he could not tell. Then I answered that no more would I assoil his vain question….

Thirdly, he asked me wherefore I said that I had rather to read five lines in the Bible, than to hear five masses in the temple. I confessed that I said no less. Not for the dispraise of either the Epistle or Gospel, but because the one did greatly edify me, and the other nothing at all. …

Fourthly, he laid unto my charge that I should say: “If an ill priest ministered, it was the Devil and not God.” My answer was that I never spake such thing. But this was my saying: “That whatsoever he were which ministered unto me, his ill conditions could not hurt my faith, but in spirit I received nevertheless the body and blood of Christ.” He asked me what I said concerning confession. I answered him my meaning, which was as Saint James sayeth, that every man ought to knowledge his faults to other, and the one to pray for the other. …

Seventhly, he asked me if I had the spirit of God in me. I answered if I had not, I was but reprobate or cast away. Then he said he had sent for a priest to examine me, which was there at hand. The priest asked me what I said to the sacrament of the altar. And required much to know therein my meaning. But I desired him again to hold me excused concerning that matter. None other answer would I make him, because I perceived him a papist.

Eighthly, he asked me if I did not think that private masses did help souls departed. And I said it was great idolatry to believe more in them than in the death which Christ died for us. Then they had me thence unto my Lord Mayor and he examined me, as they had before, and I answered him directly in all things as I answered the quest afore. Besides this my Lord Mayor laid one thing unto my charge which was never spoken of me but of them. And that was whether a mouse eating the host received God or no. This question did I never ask, but indeed they asked it of me, whereunto I made them no answer but smiled. Then the Bishop’s Chancellor rebuked me and said that I was much to blame for uttering the Scriptures. For Saint Paul (he said) forbade women to speak or to talk of the word of God. I answered him that I knew Paul’s meaning as well as he, which is, 1 Corinthians 14, that a woman ought not to speak in the congregation by the way of teaching. And then I asked him how many women he had seen go into the pulpit and preach? He said he never saw none. Then I said, he ought to find no fault in poor women, except they had offended the law. Then my Lord Mayor commanded me toward. I asked him if sureties would not serve me, and he made me short answer, that he would take none.

Then was I had to the Counter, and there remained eleven days, no friend admitted to speak with me. But in the meantime there was a priest sent to me which said that he was commanded of the Bishop to examine me, and to give me good counsel, which he did not. But first he asked me for what cause I was put in the Counter. And I told him I could not tell. Then he said it was great pity that I should be there without cause, and concluded that he was very sorry for me.

Secondly, he said it was told him that I should deny the sacrament of the altar. And I answered him again that, that I had said, I had said. Thirdly, he asked me if I were shriven. I told him so that I might have one of these three, that is to say, Doctor Crome, Sir William, or Huntingdon, I was contented, because I knew them to be men of wisdom. “As for you or any other I will not dispraise, because I know ye not.”…

Fourthly, he asked me if the Host should fall, and a beast did eat it, whether the beast did receive God or no. I answered, “Seeing ye have taken the pains to ask this question I desire you also to assoil it yourself. For I will not do it, because I perceive ye come to tempt me.” And he said it was against the order of schools6 that he which asked the question should answer it. I told him I was but a woman and knew not the course of schools. Fifthly, he asked me if I intended to receive the sacrament at Easter or no. I answered that else I were no Christian woman, and there I did rejoice, that the time was so near at hand. And then he departed thence with many fair words. …

In the meanwhile he commanded his archdeacon to common with me, who said unto me, “Mistress, where- fore are ye accused and thus troubled here before the Bishop?”

To whom I answered again and said, “Sir, ask, I pray you, my accusers, for I know not as yet.”

Then took he my book out of my hand and said, “Such books as this hath brought you to the trouble you are in. Beware,” sayeth he, “beware, for he that made this book and was the author thereof was an heretic, I warrant you, and burnt in Smithfield.”

Then I asked him if he were certain and sure that it was true that he had spoken. And he said he knew well the book was of John Frith’s8 making. Then I asked him if he were not ashamed for to judge of the book before he saw it within or yet knew the truth thereof. I said also that such unadvised and hasty judgment is token apparent of a very slender wit. Then I opened the book and showed it to him. He said he thought it had been another, for he could find no fault therein. Then I desired him no more to be so unadvisedly rash and swift in judgment, till he thoroughly knew the truth, and so he departed from me.

FROM JOHN FOXE, ACTS AND MONUMENTS OF THESE LATTER AND PERILOUS DAYS (1583)

Hitherto we have entreated of this good woman, now it remaineth that we touch somewhat as touching her end and martyrdom. She being born of such stock and kindred that she might have lived in great wealth and prosperity, if she would rather have followed the world than Christ, but now she was so tormented, that she could neither live long in so great distress, neither yet by the adversaries be suffered to die in secret. Wherefore the day of her execution was appointed, and she brought into Smithfield in a chair, because she could not go on her feet, by means of her great torments. When she was brought unto the stake she was tied by the middle with a chain that held up her body. When all things were thus prepared to the fire, the King’s letters of pardon were brought, whereby to offer her safeguard of her life if she would recant, which she would neither receive, neither yet vouchsafe once to look upon. Shaxton1 also was there present who, openly that day recanting his opinions, went about with a long oration to cause her also to turn, against whom she stoutly resisted. Thus she being troubled so many manner of ways, and having passed through so many torments, having now ended the long course of her agonies, being compassed in with flames of fire, as a blessed sacrifice unto God, she slept in the Lord, in anno2 1546, leaving behind her a singular example of Christian constancy for all men to follow.

“I AM A WOMAN POOR AND BLIND” (16TH CENTURY)

I am a woman poor and blind
and little knowledge remains in me,
Long have I sought, but fain would I find,
what herb in my garden were best to be.

A garden I have which is unknown,
which God of his goodness gave to me,
I mean my body, wherein I should have sown
the seed of Christ’s true verity.

My spirit within me is vexed sore,
my flesh striveth against the same:
My sorrows do increase more and more,
my conscience suffereth most bitter pain:

I, with myself being thus at strife,
would fain have been at rest,
Musing and studying in mortal life,
what things I might do to please God best.

With whole intent and one accord,
unto a Gardenthat I did know,
I desired him for the love of the Lord,
true seeds in my garden for to sow.

Then this proud Gardener seeing me so blind,
he thought on me to work his will,
And flattered me with words so kind,
to have me continue in my blindness still.

He fed me then with lies and mocks,
for venial sins he bid me go
To give my money to stones and stocks,
which was stark lies and nothing so.

With stinking meat then was I fed,
for to keep me from my salvation,
I had trentals of mass, and bulls of lead,
not one word spoken of Christ’s passion.

In me was sown all kind of feigned seeds,
with Popish ceremonies many a one,
Masses of requiem with other juggling deeds,
till God’s spirit out of my garden was gone.

Then was I commanded most strictly,
If of my salvation I would be sure,
To build some chapel or chantry,
to be prayed for while the world doth endure.

‘Beware of a new learning,’ quoth he, ‘it lies,
which is the thing I most abhor,
Meddle not with it in any manner of wise,
but do as your fathers have done before.’

My trust I did put in the Devil’s works,
thinking sufficient my soul to save,
Being worse then either Jews or Turks,
thus Christ of his merits I did deprave.

I might liken my self with a woeful heart,
unto the dumb man in Luke the Eleven,
From whence Christ caused the Devil to depart,
but shortly after he took the other seven.

My time thus, good Lord, so wickedly spent,
alas, I shall die the sooner therefore.
Oh Lord, I find it written in thy Testament,
that thou hast mercy enough in store

For such sinners, as the scripture sayeth,
that would gladly repent and follow thy word,
Which I’ll not deny whilst I have breath,
for prison, fire, *****, or fierce sword.

Strengthen me good Lord in thy truth to stand,
for the bloody butchers have me at their will,
With their slaughter knives ready drawn in their hand
my simple carcass to devour and kill.

O Lord forgive me mine offense,
for I have offended thee very sore,
Take therefore my sinful body from hence,
Then shall I, vile creature, offend thee no more.

I would with all creatures and faithful friends
for to keep them from this Gardener’s hands,
For he will bring them soon unto their ends,
with cruel torments of fierce firebrands.

I dare not presume for him to pray,
because the truth of him it was well known,
But since that time he hath gone astray,
and much pestilent seed abroad he hath sown.

Because that now I have no space,
the cause of my death truly to show,
I trust hereafter that by God’s holy grace,
that all faithful men shall plainly know.

To thee O Lord I bequeath my spirit,
that art the work-master of the same,
It is thine, Lord, therefore take it of right,
my carcass on earth I leave, from whence it came.

Although to ashes it be now burned,
I know thou canst raise it again,
In the same likeness as thou it formed,
in heaven with thee evermore to remain.

Chapter adapted from An Open Companion to Early British Literature Copyright © 2019 by Allegra Villarreal is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.