trickery of the pardons, pilgrimages, indulgences,—­double-faced as these inventions are—­wearing one meaning in the apologies of theologians, and quite another to the multitude who live and suffer under their influence—­one plain fact at least is visible.  The people substantially learnt that all evils which could touch either their spirits or their bodies, might be escaped by means which resolved themselves, scarcely disguised, into the payment of moneys.

The superstition had lingered long; the time had come when it was to pass away.  Those in whom some craving lingered for a Christian life turned to the heart of the matter, to the book which told them who Christ was, and what he was; and finding there that holy example for which they longed, they flung aside in one noble burst of enthusiastic passion, the disguise which had concealed it from them.  They believed in Christ, not in the bowing rood, or the pretended wood of the cross on which he suffered; and when that saintly figure had once been seen—­the object of all love, the pattern of all imitation—­thenceforward neither form nor ceremony should stand between them and their God.

Under much confusion of words and thoughts, confusion pardonable in all men, and most of all in them, this seems to me to be transparently visible in the aim of these “Christian Brothers;” a thirst for some fresh and noble enunciation of the everlasting truth, the one essential thing for all men to know and believe.  And therefore they were strong; and therefore they at last conquered.  Yet if we think of it, no common daring was required in those who would stand out at such a time in defence of such a cause.  The bishops might seize them on mere suspicion; and the evidence of the most abandoned villains sufficed for their conviction.[490] By the act of Henry V., every officer, from the lord chancellor to the parish constable, was sworn to seek them out and destroy them; and both bishops and officials had shown no reluctance to execute their duty.  Hunted like wild beasts from hiding-place to hiding-place, decimated by the stake, with the certainty that however many years they might be reprieved, their own lives would close at last in the same fiery trial; beset by informers, imprisoned, racked, and scourged; worst of all, haunted by their own infirmities, the flesh shrinking before the dread of a death of agony—­thus it was that they struggled on; earning for themselves martyrdom—­for us, the free England in which we live and breathe.  Among the great, until Cromwell came to power, they had but one friend, and he but a doubtful one, who long believed the truest kindness was to kill them.  Henry VIII. was always attracted towards the persons of the reformers.  Their open bearing commanded his respect.  Their worst crime in the bishops’ eyes—­the translating the Bible—­was in his eyes not a crime, but a merit; he had himself long desired an authorised English version, and at length compelled