For the Faith: A Story of the Young Pioneers of Reformation in Oxford

The statesman, who had all his life been wont to take the measure of men with great acumen and discernment, gave more than one quick, keen glance in the direction of Dalaber, as he received Arthur's credentials and cast his eye over them.

"You are welcome, Master Cole. I have heard of you before, and everything I have heard redounds to your credit. You are highly spoken of in Oxford, and your career there has not been without distinction. I am keenly interested in all that happens there, and in the welfare of each individual clerk and student. To hear a good report of any gives me sincere pleasure. I am glad on that account to give you this audience, albeit I am always pressed for time in which to compress each day's work."

"I thank your Eminence from my heart," answered Arthur; "and if I be permitted to speak, I will be as brief as I can in presenting my petition and pleading my Cause."

"You come with a petition? Very good; I will listen and consider it. Is it one that relates to yonder companion of yours? -

"Anthony Dalaber, I believe I mistake not in calling you by that name."

Dalaber came a step forward, but made no reply, for Arthur had answered for him, and the cardinal was turning over some papers upon his table, and selecting one or two, ran his eyes rapidly down them, after which he looked up.

"I hear of you that you are a youth of excellent parts, and of a quick understanding, and that, with industry and application, you may do great things. I also hear that though you have been led into some indiscretions and dangerous courses, that you have submitted to lawful discipline, and are forgiven and reconciled. All this is as it should be. I rejoice in the repentance of any sinner. I pray, my son, that in the future you may be guarded from all such perilous courses."

Arthur almost trembled as these words were spoken. The cardinal's wonderful eyes were fixed full upon the face of Dalaber, and the magnetic nature of the glance seemed to act with a curious, restraining power upon him. He spoke, but it was not with the outburst which his comrade had feared. It was slowly and almost haltingly.

"I have done amiss," he said. "None can better know than I how much amiss I have done. I repent me from the bottom of my heart. But I repent not of those things for which I suffered in prison, for which I thought I might be called upon to lay down my life. I repent me that I, having put mine hand to the plough, did look back. I would I had had the courage and steadfastness to resist and stand firm."

Arthur trembled; his eyes sought the cardinal's face. Wolsey was regarding Dalaber with great intensity of interest, whilst a fine smile played in shadowy fashion over his thin lips.

"Is that what you have come hither to tell me, my son?"

"In part it is," answered Dalaber, "for I have felt like a hypocrite and renegade all these days. I love the church; I hold her doctrines; I trow that I would die for the truth which she teaches: but I hold also that men should not be condemned for the reading and free discussion of the Word of God; and if those who did persuade me to submit to discipline and penance for disobedience believe that I repent me of holding and spreading that doctrine, then must I ever live with the sense of having been a traitor to the cause of my Lord and my God."

"And you wish to tell me this?"

"Yes; that your Eminence may send me back to prison, or to the stake, if it be your will."

The same slight smile played round the cardinal's lips. He looked once more at his papers.

"It is said here, Anthony Dalaber, that you have given up the study of divinity, and have taken up that of the law?"

"That is true," he answered freely. "I am not made for the priesthood; of that I am well assured. I will seek to serve God in the lesser calling, and do my duty there to Him and to the brethren."

"A laudable resolve," answered the great man, "in which I wish you all success. Listen to me for a brief moment, my son. The words you have spoken here this day will not be used against yon. I have followed your career. I know your courage and steadfastness of spirit, as well as its weaknesses and vacillations. I know how many godly youths are in like case with you-halting between two opinions, torn asunder in the struggle to judge all these hard and difficult questions for themselves. For you, and for all who yet love Holy Church, I have this piece of counsel to give. Beware how you seek to tamper with the unity of the one body. Beware how you sacrifice the greater for the lesser. It is only a church at unity in herself that can convert the world; we have the Lord's own word for that. If you have read in any tongue His last charge on earth to His apostles, as recorded in the Gospel of St. John, you must see and recognize that. The burden of that wonderful pastoral is, 'That we all may be ONE: that the world may believe.' To rend the body is to destroy its unity. To destroy its unity is to hinder the work of Christ upon earth. Think and ponder that well, and pray for guidance, for patience, for the submissive will which would endure much rather than bring war amongst the members of the one body. Our Lord Himself has warned those who are devout and sincere from the error of straining at a gnat and swallowing a camel. Let the church minister the Word of God. Let those who hunger for more ask of her. She will not send them empty away. Already those who style themselves reformers are quarrelling amongst themselves. Soon they will be broken up into a thousand camps. Unity will cease to reign in the church. Confusion and hatred and even bloodshed will follow.

"Be advised, Anthony Dalaber. Quit these hard and vexed questions for a while. Take to the less perilous study of the law. With age and experience you will learn your lesson. And I will pray for a blessing upon you, my son, for in truth I believe that the Lord may have work for you to do in days to come; and if so, I trow you will not shrink from doing it."

Anthony stood mute. A thousand questions and replies seemed to spring to his lips, but no word passed them. He felt that in argument he was no match for the cardinal, even had disputation with so eminent and august a personage been possible. He felt that somewhere there was an answer to this irrefragable argument, but for the moment he could not find it; he stood tongue tied, silent. The cardinal looked at him with his slight, peculiar smile, and then turned once again to Arthur.

"And now for your petition. If it is for favour to be shown to your ardent young friend, after the statement he desired to make to me, with greater courage than discretion (for which, however, I like him none the less), then it is granted already."

"It is not for him," answered Arthur; "we have both come hither on the same errand. But we do desire your Eminence's good offices for one who was in somewhat similar case with Dalaber. We have come to plead for the life and liberty of John Clarke, canon of your own beauteous and godly college in Oxford, who, with two other companions, one of them a canon and the other a singing man of that foundation, is lying near to death in a foul prison, and will without doubt perish miserably there, if release doth not speedily come."

The cardinal's steel-blue eyes took a new expression, and one which Arthur could in no wise interpret.

"Like to die!" He spoke somewhat more abruptly than had hitherto been the case. "You are sure of that?"

"I am sure of it," answered Arthur; "and Dr. Higdon, the dean, will tell you the same, if your Eminence will ask him of it. And though Master Clarke lies under the imputation of heresy, I trow there is no sounder churchman nor godly and pure-living man in all Oxford than he, nor one whose life holds so fair a promise of shining like a light in a dark world."

"I have heard of this man," spoke the cardinal thoughtfully; "I have known of him many years. I had report of him or ever he was sent to Oxford."

"It is known in all Oxford how that your Eminence did send to us there this godly man, whom we have learned to love and revere," spoke Arthur eagerly; "and many a time have we blessed you that your choice did fall upon one of so saint-like a walk in this world. How should we, then, not plead with your Eminence for his life, when it lies thus in jeopardy? If you would speak the word of release we would do the rest."

The cardinal sat very still and thoughtful.

"John Clarke is not my prisoner. He belongs to the Bishop of Lincoln."

"I know that well," cried Arthur eagerly. "But surely the word of your Eminence would prevail with the bishop, and free him from his bonds."

"My Lord of Lincoln is very bitter against heretics."

"Then let him take me in lieu of Master Clarke!" suddenly cried Dalaber, stepping forward to the cardinal's table, upon which he leaned with both his hands, and his dark eyes flashed fire. "If he must have a victim, let me be that victim. I am tenfold more heretic than Master Clarke. Let me take his place in the foul dungeon; let me, if need be, go to the stake for him. If there must be a victim, let me be that victim; but shall he die whose life has been given for the purity of the faith, and for teaching that very doctrine of the unity of the one Holy Catholic Church upon which your Eminence laid such stress in speaking awhile ago? Give me up to the mercy of the bishop, and let Clarke go free!"

The piercing gaze of the cardinal was fixed upon Dalaber's strenuous face. All weakness had vanished from it now. It was full of passionate earnestness and dauntless courage. His dark eyes met those of Wolsey without fear or shrinking. The loftiness of a great resolve, a great sacrifice, was shining in them.

"I will consider this matter, my sons," spoke the cardinal, whose face softened as he gazed first at one young man and then at the other. "I must communicate with the bishop, and I will see you again. Fortunately he is not far from London. A messenger can quickly reach him. Come to me here in four days' time, and I will see you again and perchance give you an answer. Will your mind have changed in those days, Anthony Dalaber? Do you indeed mean the things that you have said?"

"I do," he answered quietly, and added no protestations.

"I will remember," spoke the cardinal; and rising to his feet he gave to Arthur the benediction for which he bent his knee.

Dalaber hesitated for a moment, and then he too knelt. There was no hypocrisy in this act. Something in the aspect and the words of the cardinal had changed his opinion of the man during the brief interview.

"The Lord bless thee, my son," spoke the priest solemnly. "The Lord give thee grace and discernment, wisdom and light. The Lord strengthen all that is good in thee, that it may live and grow, and cast out and uproot all that may become a stumbling block or root of bitterness within thee. The Lord give to thee the understanding mind, the childlike heart, the pure spirit of the children of light, and lead and guide thee into all truth. Amen."

The two companions went quietly from the room, and through the long and stately passages, where the worldly pomp visible had stirred in Dalaber on entering a sense of incongruity and almost of contempt.

But he did not think of these things as he walked out into the sunny street; and both had got far upon the road to their lodgings, hard by Moor Fields, ere either spoke a word.

"I trow he will do it," then said Arthur, drawing a long breath.

"You think so truly?"

"I watched his face. It was hard to read its look; yet I thought there came a gleam of anger into it when I spoke of the peril they lay in from death by sickness in that noisome prison. After all, they are all scholars of his own college; and methinks he and the bishop have disagreed ere this over matters of discipline, and where mercy rather than judgment should be shown. All the world says that Master Garret and Robert Ferrar would have been sent to the stake had the bishop's word prevailed, but that the cardinal would not give them up to him. It may be that he will be loath to give up Master Clarke and his friends; but surely the cardinal's word would prevail, if he desired to make it."

"And if the bishop has a victim, that might satisfy him," spoke Dalaber gravely.

"Thou art thinking of thyself?" asked Arthur quickly.

"Why should I not? I have offered myself as a substitute. If they permit the exchange, I will not draw back."

Arthur regarded him with a species of admiration. But he was silent awhile, finding speech difficult. Then he asked:

"Does Freda know?"

"Yes," answered Dalaber briefly.

"And she was willing?"