parliament, but without effect. The queen indeed, who loved him with a foolish fondness, that sat but ill on a person of her years and disagreeable person, endeavoured to please him by every concession she could make or procure; and, finding herself incapable of satisfying his ambition, she was not remiss in concurring with his zeal; so that heretics began to be persecuted with inquisitorial severity. The old sanguinary laws were now revived: orders were given that the bishops and priests who had married should be ejected; that the mass should be restored; that the pope's authority should be established; and that the church and its privileges, all but their goods and estates, should be put upon the same foundation on which they were before the commencement of the Reformation. As the gentry and nobles had already divided the church-lands among them, it was thought inconvenient, and indeed impossible, to make a restoration of these.

At the head of those who drove such measures forward, but not in an equal degree, were Gardiner, bishop of Winchester, and cardinal Pole, who had lately ar rived in England from the continent. Pole, who was nearly allied by birth to the royal family, had always conscientiously adhered to the catholic religion, and had incurred Henry's displeasure, not only by refusing his assent to his measures, but by writing against him. It was for this adherence that he was cherished by the pope, and now sent over to England as legate from the holy see. Gardiner was a man of a very different character: his chief aim was to please the reigning prince, and he had shown already many instances of his prudent conformity. He now perceived that the king and queen were for rigorous measures; and he knew that it would be the best means of paying his court to them, even to outgo them in severity. Pole, who had never

varied in his principles, declared in favour of toleration; Gardiner, who had often changed, was for punishing those changes in others with the utmost rigour. However, he was too prudent to appear at the head of a persecution in person; he therefore consigned that odi ous office to Bonner, bishop of London, a cruel, brutal, and ignorant man.

This bloody scene began by the martyrdom A.D. of Hooper, bishop of Gloucester, and Rogers, 1555. prebendary of St. Paul's. They were examined by commissioners appointed by the queen, with the chancellor at the head of them. It was expected that by their recantation they would bring those opinions into disre→ pute which they had so long inculcated: but the perse cutors were deceived; they both continued steadfast in their belief; and they were accordingly condemned to be burned, Rogers in Smithfield, and Hooper in his own diocese at Gloucester. Rogers, beside the care of his own preservation, lay under very powerful temptations to deny his principles, and save his life; for he had a wife whom he tenderly loved, and ten children ; but nothing could move his resolution. Such was his serenity after condemnation, that the jailors, we are told, waked him from a sound sleep upon the approach of the hour appointed for his execution. He desired to see his wife before he died; but Gardiner told him, that being a priest he could have no wife. When the faggots were placed around him, he seemed no way daunted at the preparation, but cried out, "I resign my life with joy, in testimony of the doctrine of Jesus!" When Hooper was tied to the stake, a stool was set before him with the queen's pardon upon it, in case he should recant; but he ordered it to be removed, and prepared cheerfully to suffer his sentence, which was executed in its full severity. The fire, either from ma

lice or neglect, had not been sufficiently kindled; so that his legs and thighs were first burned, and one of his hands dropped off, while with the other he continued to beat his breast. He was three quarters of an hour in torture, which he bore with inflexible constancy.

Sanders and Taylor, two other clergymen, whose zeal had been distinguished in carrying on the Reformation, were the next that suffered. Taylor was put into a pitch-barrel; and, before the fire was kindled, a faggot from an unknown hand was thrown at his head, which made it stream with blood. Still, however, he continued undaunted, singing the thirty-first Psalm in English; which one of the spectators observing, struck him a blow on the side of the head, and commanded him to pray in Latin. Taylor continued a few minutes silent, and with his eyes steadfastly fixed upward; when one of the guards, either through impatience or compassion, struck him down with his halberd, and thus happily put an end to his torments.

The death of these only served to increase the savage appetite of the popish bishops and monks for fresh slaughter. Bonner, bloated at once with rage and luxury, let loose his vengeance without restraint, and seemed to take a pleasure in the pains of the unhappy sufferers; while the queen, by her letters, exhorted him to pursue the pious work without pity or interruption. Soon after, in obedience to her commands, Ridley, bishop of London, and the venerable Latimer, bishop of Worcester, were condemned together. Ridley had been one of the ablest champions for the Reformation; his piety, learning, and solidity of judgment, were admired by his friends, and dreaded by his enemies. The night before his execution, he invited the mayor of Oxford and his wife to see him; and

when he beheld them melted into tears, he himself appeared quite unmoved, inwardly supported and com forted in that hour of agony. When he was brought to the stake to be burnt, he found his old friend Latimer there before him. Of all the prelates of that age, Latimer was the most remarkable for his unaffected piety, and the simplicity of his manners. He had never learned to flatter in courts; and his open rebuke was dreaded by all the great, who at that time too much deserved it. His sermons, which remain to this day, show that he had some learning and much wit; and there is an air of sincerity running through them not to be found elsewhere. When Ridley began to comfort his ancient friend, Latimer, on his part, was as ready to return the kind office. "Be of good cheer, brother,” cried he, "we shall this day kindle such a torch in England, as, I trust in God, shall never be extinguished." A furious bigot ascended to preach to them and the people while the fire was preparing; and Ridley gave a most serious attention to his discourse. No way distracted by the preparations about him, he heard him to the last, and then told him that he was ready to answer all that he had preached upon, if a short indulgence should be permitted: but this was refused him. At length fire was set to the pile: Latimer was soon out of pain; but Ridley continued to suffer much longer, his legs being continued before the fire reached his vitals.

One Thomas Haukes, when conducted to the stake, had agreed with his friends, that if he found the torture supportable, he would make them a signal for that purpose in the midst of the flames. His zeal for the cause in which he suffered was so strong, that when the spec tators thought him near expiring, by stretching out his arms he gave his friends the signal that the pain was

not too great to be borne. This example, with many others of the like constancy, encouraged multitudes not only to suffer, but even to aspire after martyrdom.

But women seemed persecuted with as much seve rity even as men. A woman in Guernsey, condemned for heresy, was delivered of a child in the midst of the flames. Some of the spectators humanely ran to snatch the infant from danger; but the magistrate, who was a papist, ordered it to be flung in again: and there it was consumed with the mother.

Cranmer's death followed soon after, and struck the whole nation with horror. This prelate, whom we have seen acting so very conspicuous a part in the Reformation during the two preceding reigns, had been long detained a prisoner, in consequence of his imputed guilt in obstructing the queen's succession to the crown. But it was now resolved to bring him to punishment: and, to give it all its malignity, the queen ordered that he should be punished for heresy rather than for treason. He was accordingly cited by the pope to stand his trial at Rome; and though he was kept a prisoner at Oxford, yet, upon his not appearing, he was condemned as contumacious. But his enemies were not satisfied with his tortures, without adding to them the poignancy of self-accusation. Persons were, therefore, employed to tempt him by flattery and insinuation, by giving him hopes of once more being received into favour, to sign his recantation, by which he acknowledged the doctrines of the papal supremacy and the real presence. His love of life prevailed. In an unguarded moment he was induced to sign this paper; and now his enemies, as we are told of the devil, after having rendered him completely wretched, resolved to destroy him. But it was determined, before they led him out to execution, that they should try to induce him to make a recantation