A Short History of Monks and Monasteries written by Alfred Wesley Wishart

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In 1531, the English clergy were coerced into declaring that Henry was
"the protector and the supreme head of the church and of the clergy of
England," which absurd claim was slightly modified by the words, "in so
far as is permitted by the law of Christ." Chapuys, in one of his
despatches informing Charles V. of this action of convocation, said that
it practically declared Henry the Pope of England. "It is true," he
wrote, "that the clergy have added to the declaration that they did so
only so far as permitted by the law of God. But that is all the same, as
far as the king is concerned, as if they had made no reservation, for no
one will now be so bold as to contest with his lord the importance of
the reservation." Later on, Chapuys says that the king told the pope's
nuncio that "if the pope would not show him more consideration, he would
show the world that the pope had no greater authority than Moses, and
that every claim not grounded on Scripture was mere usurpation; that
the great concourse of people present had come solely and exclusively to
request him to bastinado the clergy, who were hated by both nobles and
the people." ("Spanish Despatches," number 460.)

Parliament, in 1534, conferred on Henry the title "Supreme Head of the
Church of England," and empowered him "to visit, and repress, redress,
reform, order, correct, restrain, or amend all errors, heresies, abuses,
offences, contempts, and enormities, which fell under any spiritual
authority or jurisdiction." The "Act of Succession" was also passed by
Parliament, cutting off Princess Mary and requiring all subjects to take
an oath of allegiance to Elizabeth.

It was now an act of treason to deny the king's supremacy. All persons
suspected of disloyalty were required to sign an oath of allegiance to
Henry, and to Elizabeth as his successor, and to acknowledge the
supremacy of the king in church and state. This resulted in the death of
some prominent men in the realm, among them Sir Thomas More. In the
preamble of the oath prescribed by law, the legality of the king's
marriage with Anne was asserted, thus implying that his former marriage
with Catharine was unlawful. More was willing to declare his allegiance
to the infant Elizabeth, as the king's successor, but his conscience
would not permit him to affirm that Catharine's marriage was unlawful.

The life of the brilliant and lovable More is another illustration of
the mental confusions and inconsistencies of that age. As an apostle of
culture he favored the new learning, and yet he viewed the gathering
momentum of reformatory principles with alarm, and cast in his lot with
the ultra-conservatives. Four years of his young manhood were spent in a
monastery. He devoted his splendid talents to a criticism of English
society, and recommended freedom of conscience, yet he became an ardent
foe of reform and even a persecutor of heretics, of whom he said: "I do
so detest that class of men that, unless they repent, I am the worst
enemy they have." When a man, whom even Protestant historians hasten to
pronounce "the glory of his age," so magnificent were his talents and so
blameless his character, was tainted with superstition, and sanctioned
the persecution of liberal thinkers, is it remarkable that inferior
intellects should have been swayed by the brutality and tyranny of
the times?

The unparalleled claims of Henry and his attitude toward the pope made
the breach between England and Rome complete, but many years of painful
internal strife and bloodshed were to elapse before the whole nation
submitted to the new order of things, and before that subjective freedom
from fear and superstition without which formal freedom has little
value, was secured.

The breach with Rome was essential to the attainment of that religious
and political freedom that England now enjoys. But the first step toward
making that separation an accomplished fact, acquiesced in by the people
as a whole, was to break the power of the monastic orders. It may
possibly be true that the same ends would have been eventually attained
by trusting to the slower processes of social evolution, but the history
of the Latin nations of Europe would seem to prove the contrary. As the
facts stand it would appear that peace and progress were impossible with
thousands of monks sowing seeds of discord, and employing every measure,
fair or foul, to win the country back to Rome. Gairdner and others
argue that Henry was far too powerful a king to have been successfully
resisted by the pope, unless the pope was backed by a union of the
Christian princes, which was then impracticable. That fact may make the
execution of More, Fisher and the Charterhouse monks inexcusable, but it
by no means proves that Henry would have been strong enough to maintain
his position if the monasteries had been permitted to exist as centers
of organized opposition to his will. Many of the monks, when pressed by
the king's agents, took the oath of allegiance. Threats, bribes and
violence were used to overcome the opposition of the unwilling.

_The Monks and the Oath of Supremacy_

It is quite evident that the king's purpose to destroy the whole
monastic institution was partly the result of the determined resistance
which the monks offered to his authority. The contest between the king
and the monks was exceedingly fierce and bloody. Many good men lost
their lives and many innocent persons suffered grievously. Perhaps the
most pathetic incident in the sanguinary struggle between the king and
the monks was the tragic fall of the Charterhouse of London. The facts
are given at length by Froude, in his "History of England," who bases
his account on the narrative of Maurice Channey, one of the monks who
escaped death by yielding to the king. The unhappy monk confesses that
he was a Judas among the apostles, and in a touching account of the ruin
that came upon his monastic retreat he praises the boldness and fidelity
of his companions, who preferred death to what seemed to them dishonor.

The pages of Channey are filled with the most improbable stories of
miracles, but his charming picture of the cloister life of the
Carthusians is doubtless true to reality. The Carthusian fathers were
the best fruit of monasticism in England. To a higher degree than any of
the other monastic orders they maintained a good discipline and
preserved the spirit of their founders. "A thousand years of the world's
history had rolled by," says Froude, "and these lonely islands of prayer
had remained still anchored in the stream; the strands of the ropes
which held them, wearing now to a thread, and very near their last
parting, but still unbroken." In view of the undisputed purity and
fearlessness of these noble monks, a recital of their woes will place
the case for the monastic institution in the most favorable light.

Channey says the year 1533 was ushered in with signs,--the end of the
world was nigh. Yes, the monk's world was drawing to a close; the moon,
for him, was turning into blood, and the stars falling from heaven.

More and Fisher were in the Tower. The former's splendid talents and
noble character still swayed the people. It was no time for trifling;
the Carthusian fathers must take the oath of allegiance or perish. So
one morning the royal commissioners appeared before the monastery door
of the Charterhouse to demand submission. Prior Houghton answered them:
"I know nothing of the matter mentioned; I am unacquainted with the
world without; my office is to minister to God, and to save poor souls
from Satan." He was committed to the Tower for one month. Then Dr.
Bonner persuaded the prior to sign with "certain reservations." He was
released and went back to his cloister-cell to weep. Calling his monks
together he said he was sorry; it looked like deceit, but he desired to
save his brethren and their order. The commissioners returned; the monks
were under suspicion; the reservations were disliked, and they must sign
without conditions. In great consternation the prior assembled the
monks. All present cried out: "Let us die together in our integrity, and
heaven and earth shall witness for us how unjustly we are cut off."
Prior Houghton conceived a generous idea. "If it depends on me alone; if
my oath will suffice for the house, I will throw myself on the mercy of
God; I will make myself anathema, and to preserve you from these
dangers, I will consent to the king's will." Thus did the noble old man
consent to go into heaven with a lie on his conscience, hoping to escape
by the mercy of God, because he sought to save the lives of his
brethren. But all this was of no avail; Cromwell had determined that
this monastery must fall, and fall it did. The monks prepared for their
end calmly and nobly; beginning with the oldest brother, they knelt
before each other and begged forgiveness for all unkindness and offence.
"Not less deserving," says Froude, "the everlasting remembrances of
mankind, than those three hundred, who, in the summer morning, sate
combing their golden hair in the passes of Thermopylae." But rebellion
was blazing in Ireland, and the enemies of the king were praying and
plotting for his ruin. These monks, with More and Fisher, were an
inspiration to the enemies of liberty and the kingdom. Catholic Europe
crouched like a tiger ready to spring on her prostrate foe. It is sad,
but these recluses, praying for the pope, instilling a love for the
papacy in the confessional, these honest and conscientious but dangerous
men must be shorn of their power to encourage rebels. There was a farce
of a trial. Houghton was brought to the scaffold and died protesting his
innocence. His arm was cut off and hung over the archway of the
Charterhouse, as other arms and heads were hideously hanging over many a
monastic gate in Merry England. Nine of the monks died of prison fever,
and others were banished. The king's court went into mourning, and Henry
knotted his beard and henceforth would be no more shaven--eloquent
evidence to the world that whatever motive dominated the king's heart,
these bloody deeds were unpleasantly disturbing. Certainly such a
spectacle as that of a monk's arm nailed to a monastery was never seen
by Englishmen before.

The Charterhouse fell, let it be carefully noted, because the monks
could not and would not acknowledge the king's supremacy, and not
because the monks were immoral. Some spies in Cromwell's service offered
to, bring in evidence against six of these monks of "laziness and
immorality." Cromwell indignantly refused the proposal, saying, "He
would not hear the accusation; that it was false, wilfully so."

The news of these proceedings, and of the beheading of More and Fisher,
awakened the most violent rage throughout Catholic Europe. Henry was
denounced as the Nero of his times. Paul III. immediately excommunicated
the king, dissolved all leagues between Henry and the Catholic princes,
and gave his kingdom to any invader. All Catholic subjects were ordered
to take up arms against him. Although these censures were passed, the
pope decided to defer their publication, hoping for a peaceful
settlement. But Henry knew, and the Catholic princes of Europe knew,
that the blow might fall at any time. He had to make up his mind to go
further or to yield unconditionally to the pope. The world soon
discovered the temper of the enraged and stubborn monarch. He might
vacillate on speculative questions, but there were no tokens of feeble
hesitancy in his dealings with Rome. The hour of doom for the
monasteries had struck.

Having thus glanced at the character of Henry VIII., the prime mover in
the attack upon the monasteries, and having surveyed some of the events
leading up to their fall, we are now prepared to consider the actual
work of suppression, which will be described under the following heads:
First, The royal commissioners and their methods of investigation;
Second, The commissioners' report on the condition of affairs; Third,
The action of Parliament; Fourth, The effect of the suppression upon the
people; and Fifth, The use Henry made of the monastic possessions. These
matters having been set forth, it will then be in order to inquire into
the justification, real or alleged, of the suppression.

_The Royal Commissioners and Their Methods of Investigation_

The fall of Sir Thomas More left Thomas Cromwell the chief power under
the king, and for seven years he devoted his great administrative
abilities to making his royal patron absolute ruler in church and state.

Cromwell, Earl of Essex, was of lowly origin, but his energy and
shrewdness, together with the experience acquired by extensive travels,
commanded the attention of Cardinal Wolsey, who took him into his
service. He was successively merchant, scrivener, money-lender, lawyer,
member of parliament, master of jewels, chancellor, master of rolls,
secretary of state, vicar-general in ecclesiastical affairs, lord privy
seal, dean of Wells and high chamberlain.

Close intimacy with Wolsey enabled Cromwell to grasp the full
significance of Henry's ambition, and his desire to please his royal
master, coupled with his own love of power, prompted him to throw
himself with characteristic energy into the work of centralizing all
authority in the hands of the king and of his prime minister. In secular
affairs, this had already been accomplished. The task before him was to
subdue the church to the throne, to execute which he became the
protector of Protestantism and the foe of Rome. Green says: "He had an
absolute faith in the end he was pursuing, and he simply hews his way to
it, as a woodman hews his way through the forest, axe in hand." Froude
says: "To him ever belonged the rare privilege of genius to see what
other men could not see, and therefore he was condemned to rule a
generation which hated him, to do the will of God and to perish in his
success. He pursued an object, the excellence of which, as his mind saw
it, transcended all other considerations, the freedom of England and the
destruction of idolatry, and those who, from any motive, noble or base,
pious or impious, crossed his path, he crushed and passed on over
their bodies."

There seems to be a general agreement that Cromwell was not a
Protestant. His struggle against the temporal power of the pope fostered
the reformatory movement, but that did not make Cromwell a Protestant
any more than it did his master, Henry VIII. Foxe describes Cromwell "as
a valiant soldier and captain of Christ," but Maitland retorts "that
Foxe forgot, if he ever knew, who was the father of lies."

Without doubt Cromwell ruled with an iron hand. He was guilty of
accepting bribes, and, as some maintain, "was the great patron of
ribaldry, and the protector of the low jester and the filthy." But,
sadly enough, that is no serious charge against one in his times. It is
said that Henry used to say, when a knave was dealt to him in a game of
cards, "Ah, I have a Cromwell!" Francis Aidan Gasquet, a Benedictine
monk, in his valuable work on "Henry VIII. and the English Monasteries,"
says of Cromwell: "No single minister in England ever exercised such
extensive authority, none ever rose so rapidly, and no one has ever left
behind him a name covered with greater infamy and disgrace."

In 1535, Henry, as supreme head of the church, appointed Cromwell as his
"Vicegerent, Vicar-General and Principal Commissary in causes
ecclesiastical." His immediate duty was to enforce recognition of the
king's supremacy. The monks and the clergy were now to be coerced into
submission. A royal commission, consisting of Legh, Layton, Ap Rice,
London and various subordinates, was appointed to visit the monasteries
and to report on their condition.

Henry Griffin says in his chronicle: "I was well acquainted with all the
commissioners; indeed I knew them well; they were very smart men, who
understood the value of money, for they had tasted of adversity. I think
the priests were the worst of the whole party, although they had a good
reputation at the time, but they were wicked, deceitful men. I am sorry
to speak thus of my own order, but I speak God's truth." "It is a
dreadful undertaking," said Lord Clinton. "Ah! but I have great faith in
the tact and judgment of the men I am about to select,"
retorted Cromwell.

Dr. John London was a base tool of Cromwell, and a miserable exponent of
the reform movement. He joined Gardiner in burning heretics, was
convicted of adultery at Oxford, was pilloried for perjury and died in
jail. The other royal agents were also questionable characters. Dean
Layton wrote the most disgusting letters to Cromwell. Once he informed
his patron that he prayed regularly for him, prefacing this information
with the remark, "I will now tell you something to make you laugh."

Father Gasquet sums up his view of the commissioners in the words of
Edmund Burke: "It is not with much credulity that I listen to any when
they speak ill of those whom they are going to plunder. I rather suspect
that vices are feigned, or exaggerated, when profit is looked for in the
punishment--an enemy is a bad witness; a robber worse." Burke
indignantly declares: "The inquiry into the moral character of the
religious houses was a mere pretext, a complete delusion, an insidious
and predetermined foray of wholesale and heartless plunder."

Such are the protests from the defenders of the monasteries even before
a hearing is granted. "What," say they, "believe such perjurers,
adulterers and gamblers; men forsworn to bring in a bad report; men who
were selected because they were worthless characters who could be
relied on to return false charges against an institution loved by
the people?"

The commissioners began their work at Oxford, in September, 1535. The
work was vigorously pushed. On reaching the door of a monastery, they
demanded admittance; if it was not granted, they entered by breaking
down the gate with an axe. They then summoned the monks before them, and
plied them with questions. An inventory was taken of everything; nothing
escaped their searching eyes. When the king decided to suppress the
lesser monasteries, and ordered a new visitation of the larger ones,
they seized and sold all they could lay their hands on; "stained glass,
ironwork, bells, altar-cloths, candles, books, beads, images, capes,
brewing-tubs, brass bolts, spits for cooking, kitchen utensils, plates,
basins, all were turned into money." Many valuable books were destroyed;
jewels and gold and silver clasps were torn from old volumes, and the
paper sold as waste; parchment manuscripts were used to scour tubs and
grease boots. Out of the wreck about a hundred and thirty thousand
manuscripts have been saved. It must be admitted that the commissioners
were not delicate in their labors; that they insulted many nuns, robbed
the monks, violated the laws of decency and humanity, and needlessly
excited the rage of the people and outraged the religious sentiments of
the Catholics. They even used sacred altar-cloths for blankets on their
horses, and rode across the country decorated in priestly and monkish
garments. There seems to be some ground for the statement that Henry was
ignorant, or at least not fully informed, of their unwarranted violence
and gross sacrilege. The abbey of Glastonbury was one of the oldest and
finest cloisters in England. It was a majestic pile of buildings in the
midst of gardens and groves covering sixty acres; its aisles were vocal
with the chanting of monks, who marched in gorgeous processions among
the tall, gray pillars. The exterior of the buildings was profusely
decorated with sculpture; monarchs, temple knights, mitered abbots,
martyrs and apostles stood for centuries in their niches of stone while
princes came and passed away, while kingdoms rose and fell. The nobles
and bishops of the realm were laid to rest beneath the altars around
which many generations of monks had assembled to praise and to pray. The
royal commissioners one day appeared before the walls. The abbot,
Richard Whiting, who was then eighty-four years of age, was at
Sharphorn, another residence of the community. He was brought back and
questioned. At night when he was in bed, they searched his study for
letters and books, and they claimed to have found a manuscript of
Whiting's arguments against the divorce of the king and Queen Catharine;
it had never been published; they did not know whether the venerable
abbot had such intent or not. Stephen declares the spies themselves
brought the book into the library. However, the abbot was chained to a
cart and taken to London. The abbey had immense wealth; every Wednesday
and Friday it fed and lodged three hundred boys; it was esteemed very
highly in the neighborhood and received large donations from the knights
in the vicinity. The abbot was accused of treason for concealing the
sacred vessels; he was old, deaf, and sick, but was allowed no counsel.
He asked permission to take leave of his monks, and many little
orphans; Russell and Layton only laughed. The people heard of his
captivity and determined "to deliver or avenge" their favorite, but
Russell hanged half a dozen of them and declared that "law, order and
loyalty were vindicated." Whiting's body was quartered, and the pieces
sent to Wells, Bath, Chester and Bridgewater, while his head, adorned
with his gray hairs clotted by blood, was hung over the abbey gate.

_The Report of the Commissioners_

The original report of the commissioners does not exist. Burnet declares
that he saw an extract from it, concerning one hundred and forty-four
houses, which contained the most revolting revelations. Many of the
commissioners' letters and various documents touching the suppression
have been collected and published by the Camden Society. Waiving, for
the present, the inquiry into the truth of the report, it was in
substance as follows:

The commissioners reported about one-third of the houses to be fairly
well conducted, some of them models of excellent management and pure
living; but the other two-thirds were charged with looseness beyond
description. The number of inmates in some cloisters was kept below the
required number, that there might be more money to divide among the
monks. The number of servants sometimes exceeded that of the monks.
Abbots bought and sold land in a fraudulent manner; gifts for
hospitality were misapplied; licentiousness, gaming and drinking
prevailed extensively. Crime and absolution for gold went hand in hand.
One friar was said to have been the proud father of an illegitimate
family of children, but he had in his possession a forged license from
the pope, who permitted his wandering, "considering his frailty."
Froude, in commenting upon the report, says: "If I were to tell the
truth, I should have first to warn all modest eyes to close the book and
read no farther."

All sorts of pious frauds were revealed. At Hales the monks claimed to
have the blood of Christ brought from Jerusalem, and not visible to
anyone in mortal sin until he had performed good works, or, in other
words, paid enough for his absolution. Two monks took the blood of a
duck, which they renewed every week; this they put into a phial, one
side of which consisted of a thin, transparent crystal; the other thick
and opaque; the dark side was shown until the sinner's gold was
exhausted, when, presto! change, the blood appeared by turning the other
side of the phial. Innumerable toe-parings, bones, pieces of skin, three
heads of St. Ursula, and other anatomical relics of departed saints,
were said to cure every disease known to man. They had relics that could
drive away plagues, give rain, hinder weeds, and in fact, render the
natural world the plaything of decaying bones and shreds of dried skin.
The monks of Reading had an angel with one wing, who had preserved the
spear with which our Lord was pierced. Abbots were found to have
concubines in or near the monasteries; midnight revels and drunken
feasts were pleasant pastimes for monks weary with prayers and fasting.
While it would be unjust to argue that the existence of "pious frauds"
affords a justification for the suppression of the monasteries, it must
be remembered that they constituted one element in that condition of
ecclesiastical life that was becoming repugnant to the English people.
For several generations there had been a marked growth in the hostility
toward various forms of superstition. True, neither Henry nor Cromwell
can be accredited with the lofty intention of exterminating
superstition, but the attitude of many people toward "pious frauds"
helped to reconcile them to the destruction of the monasteries.

_The Action of Parliament_

The report of the commissioners was laid before Parliament in 1536. As
it declared that the smaller monasteries were more corrupt than the
larger ones, Parliament ordered the suppression of all those houses
whose revenues were less than two hundred pounds per annum. By this act,
three hundred and seventy-six houses were suppressed, whose aggregate
revenue was thirty-two thousand pounds yearly. Movable property valued
at about one hundred thousand pounds was also handed over to the "Court
of Augmentations of the King's Revenue," which was established to take
care of the estates, revenues and other possessions of the monasteries.
It is claimed that ten thousand monks and nuns were turned out into the
world, to find bed and board as best they could. In 1538, two years
later, the greater monasteries met a similar fate, which was no doubt
hastened by the rebellions that followed the abolition of the smaller
houses. Many of the abbots and monks were suspected of aiding in the
rebellion against the king's authority by inciting the people to take up
arms against him. Apprehending the coming doom, many abbots resigned;
others were overcome by threats and yielded without a struggle. In many
instances such monks received pensions varying from fifty-three
shillings and four pence to four pounds a year. The investigations were
constantly carried on, and all the foul stories that could be gathered
were given to the people, to secure their approval of the king's action.
With remorseless zeal the king and his commissioners, supported by
various acts of parliament, persevered in their work of destruction,
until even the monastic hospitals, chantries, free chapels and
collegiate churches, fell into the king's hands. By the year 1545, the
ruin was complete. The monastic institution of England was no more. The
total number of monasteries suppressed is variously estimated, but the
following figures are approximately correct: monasteries, 616; colleges,
90; free chapels, 2,374; and hospitals, 110. The annual income was about
one hundred and fifty thousand pounds, which was a smaller sum than was
then believed to be in the control of the monks. Nearly fifty thousand
persons were driven from the houses, to foment the discontent and to
arouse the pity of the people. Such, in brief, was the extent of the
suppression, but a little reflection will show that these statements of
cold facts convey no conception of the confusion and sorrow that must
have accompanied this terrific and wholesale assault upon an institution
that had been accumulating its possessions for eight hundred years. At
this distance from those tragic events, it is impossible to realize the
dismay of those who stood aghast at this ruthless destruction of such
venerable establishments.

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