John Bale, John Foxe and the Reformation of the English Past

Author(s):  
Mark Greengrass ◽  
Matthew Phillpott
Keyword(s):  
1973 ◽  
Vol 24 (2) ◽  
pp. 145-160 ◽  
Author(s):  
Leslie P. Fairfield

One of the consequences of the Reformation in England (as elsewhere) was that for Protestants, at least, the image of sainthood changed considerably. Erasmus'sColloquieshad poked fun at the kind of saint honoured by theGolden Legend; and Thomas Cromwell drove the point home in his Injunctions of 1536 and 1538. ‘New occasions teach new duties, time makes ancient good uncouth …’ and a new cause naturally creates its new heroes. The changing conception of sainthood in sixteenth-century England, culminating in Foxe'sActes and Monuments,has attracted not a little modern scholarly attention, as for example in Helen C. White'sTudor Books of Saints and Martyrs.But one pivotal figure in this development deserves more intensive study: John Bale (1495–1563), the famous antiquary, dramatist and protestant propagandist. In the 1540s Bale published works on two protestant ‘saints’—Sir John Oldcastle and Mistress Anne Askew—which did much to imprint the new definition of sainthood on the English mind. For these little tracts alone (and particularly in the light of Bale's later relationship with John Foxe) Bale's contribution to protestant hagiography invites a closer look.


Author(s):  
W. B. Patterson

Reformers in England saw losses as well as gains in the Reformation. John Leland and John Bale recorded the contents of monastic libraries. Matthew Parker recovered manuscripts from the past. The Elizabethan Society of Antiquaries, comprised of lawyers, scholars, and country gentlemen, developed methods of ascertaining accurate information about the past. William Camden, the author of Annals of Elizabeth (1615, Latin) and Britannia (1586, Latin), wrote a new kind of history: dispassionate, based on reliable evidence, and concerned with changes in society. Fifty years after Camden’s lifetime, Thomas Fuller followed methods and approaches that the antiquaries and their successors employed, while developing ideas very much his own.


1973 ◽  
Vol 5 (2) ◽  
pp. 116-127 ◽  
Author(s):  
Charles Carlton

On the afternoon of Thursday, the 10th of June 1540, a squad of Yeoman of the Guard burst into the Council Chamber in Westminster Hall, and arrested Thomas Cromwell, Henry VIII's chief minister. They escorted him out through a postern to a boat waiting at Westminster Steps, rowed him down the Thames, and through Traitors' Gate into the Tower of London. Within this gaunt prison Cromwell was held till the early morning of July 28th, when the Yeoman marched him to Tower Hill to be executed for treason, heresy, bribery, and misuse of power. He climbed the scaffold, and addressed the crowd. He had come here to die, he confessed, and not to justify himself. He was a grievous wretch, who sought God's pardon. He had offended the King, and asked the crowd to pray that Henry VIII would forgive him. Finally, Cromwell insisted that he would die a Catholic, and that he had never waivered in a single article of the Catholic faith. Then, after a short prayer commending his soul to the Almighty, Cromwell laid his head on the block, and, as John Foxe records, “patiently suffered the stroke of the axe” swung “by a ragged and butcherly miser [who] very ungodly performed the office.”So died one of England's greatest statesmen—the architect of the Reformation and the Tudor Revolution in Government. Just as his career has been the source of much historical debate, the events of the last seven weeks of his life, from his arrest to his execution, and his scaffold address especially, have been an irritant of contradiction and confusion.


1989 ◽  
Vol 40 (2) ◽  
pp. 219-238 ◽  
Author(s):  
Greg Walker

On 8 December 1527 two scholars, Thomas Bilney and Thomas Arthur, carried penitential faggots at St Paul's Cross as a token of abjuration of heresy. With this act both men formally cleansed their souls and brought about their reconciliation with the Church. Far from being the end of a story, however, this ceremony proved to be the beginning of a controversy which has survived until the present day. For Thomas Bilney subsequently renounced his abjuration and became a significant figure in the early Reformation in England, eventually dying at the stake as a relapsed heretic in 1531. And yet, despite the importance attributed to him as a reformer, Bilney is now, as he was then, an ambiguous figure whose relationship with the Catholic Church and precise beliefs have never been conclusively determined. Many writers have claimed Bilney as a champion of their particular causes or have sought to identify his place in the wider movements of the Reformation. For the Protestant John Foxe he was a martyr, albeit a flawed one, for the reformed faith, who refused to the last to be intimidated into a second abjuration. For Sir Thomas More, in somewhat mischievous mood, he was a Catholic saint brought to realise the error of his ways at the stake and reconciled to the Church with almost his last breath.


2013 ◽  
Vol 49 ◽  
pp. 156-167
Author(s):  
Susan Royal

The late medieval prophetic tradition played a significant role in how John Bale (1495–1563), England’s first Protestant church historian, formulated his ideas about the nature of revelation, which would become a contentious issue in the course of the Reformation. It is the goal of this essay to examine this first-generation evangelical’s views, which will bring us closer to understanding prophecy and its legitimacy in Reformation-era Europe. In an influential essay, Richard Southern illustrates the important role of the prophetical tradition in premodern historical writing: ‘Prophecy filled the world-picture, past, present, and future; and it was the chief inspiration of all historical thinking.’ But while its significance is easy to pinpoint, the varied nature of prophetic revelation does not make for easy delineations or definitions. Southern names four types of prophecy in the Middle Ages: biblical (Daniel, Revelation); pagan (sibylline); Christian (such as that of Hildegard of Bingen); and astrological (stars and celestial events). Of course, even these are not clearly distinct categories; Southern notes that Merlin is ‘half-Christian, half-pagan’. Lesley Coote points out that the ‘subject of political prophecy is king, people and nation’, separating this from theological, apocalyptic prophecy, though she also asserts that the two are closely related. Bernard McGinn remarks that in the later Middle Ages, prophecy is ‘seen as a divinatory or occasionally reformative activity – the prophet as the man who foretells the future, or the one who seeks to correct a present situation in the light of an ideal past or glorious future’.


PMLA ◽  
1922 ◽  
Vol 37 (2) ◽  
pp. 216-227 ◽  
Author(s):  
L. R. Merrill

Many a man of letters who has been accounted great in his own time and whose work has had no little influence on the world's literature has ceased to be a person of any interest in later years, and his works are no longer read. Few such men have left so little record of themselves, or have inspired in these latter days of research so little interest, so little desire to make inquiry into their lives and personalities as has Nicholas Grimald. Nevertheless, John Bale, the first writer of English literary history, tells how renowned he was in that day, and calls him the foremost alumnus of Cambridge and not the least glory of his time. Indeed, he might well be regarded as such. Next to Sir Thomas Wyatt and Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, he was the principal contributor to the first anthology of English poetry, then known as Songes and Sonnettes, now known as Tottel's Miscellany, a book which enjoyed astonishing popularity. A second edition of it appeared within a month of the first, and eight editions appeared within twenty years. His name is here joined to those of two men who are still remembered. Another reason for the interest of posterity is that two of Grimald's poems in this volume, “The Death of Zoroas,” and “Marcus Tullius Ciceroes Death,” were the first compositions in blank verse to be published in the English language. The credit, to be sure, is commonly given to Surrey for having written the first blank verse, for although the translation in that poetic form which he made of the second and the fourth book of the Aeneid was published June 21, 1557, a little over two weeks later than Songes and Sonnettes, it must have been written at least ten years before, as Surrey died in 1547. Nevertheless, it is not improbable that Grimald's compositions in blank verse were done even before Surrey's, for in 1547 he was appointed lecturer in rhetoric at Christ Church, Oxford. Warton suggests that Grimald's verses were “prolusions or illustrative practical specimens for our author's course of lectures in rhetoric.” But he had previously been engaged in literary work for some years. His poetic drama, Christus Redivivus, which was published in 1543, was written about 1539, when, as he says in its dedicatory epistle, he was about twenty. In 1548, he published his Archipropheta, which shows him to be a master of a variety of verse forms.


Author(s):  
Jason Cohen

Anne Askew was born of a notable Lincolnshire family and became a Protestant voice of radical reformation at the end of the reign of Henry VIII. According to Bale, Askew was compelled to marry Thomas Kyme as a substitute for her sister’s prior betrothal upon her untimely death. Askew sought a divorce after Kyme drove her from their home for her unorthodox beliefs. It is likely that her vocal criticisms of church policy regarding demonstrations of faith brought her to the attention of the bishops. She was first interrogated by Bishop Bonner and subsequently released before being re-captured. During her second imprisonment, Bishop Gardiner and Chancellor Wriothesley conducted the interrogation and torture, which historians generally attribute to the effort to prove the Protestant leanings of Henry VIII’s last queen. The unusual torture Askew endured as a gentlewoman has been understood to suggest her direct affiliation with the circle of Katherine Parr. In 1546, at age twenty-five, she was burned at the stake as a heretic. She became a significant martyr when John Bale and John Foxe published accounts of her interrogation, imprisonment, and torture. Askew is known almost exclusively from the two narratives she wrote of her interrogations: The first examinacyon (1546) discusses her beliefs and her efforts to frustrate her interrogators; The lattre examinacyon (1547) describes her re-arrest and the judicial torture she endured along with interrogation leading to her execution. John Bale first published her works along with commentary and framing, which supply much of the biographical information about Askew that remains available.


1984 ◽  
Vol 21 ◽  
pp. 163-187
Author(s):  
G. R. Elton

The century of the Reformation, in England as elsewhere, sharpened all conflicts and augmented persecution. As the unity of Christendom broke up, the rival parties acquired that sort of confidence in their own righteousness that encourages men to put one another to death for conscience sake; an era of moderation and tolerance gave way to one of ever more savage repression. To the openminded willingness which characterized the humanism of Erasmus and More as well as the Rome of Leo X there succeeded the bigotry typical of Carafa, Calvin, Knox and the English puritans; only the gradual evaporation of such passions, produced by each side’s inability to triumph totally, produced a weariness with religious strife which made the return of mutual sufferance possible. That, at least, is the received story. Historians of toleration, as for instance Jordan and Lecler, firmly described the history of persecution in this way. Jordan identified six developments which led to its decline in sixteenth-century England: a growing political strength among dissident sects, the impossibility of preventing splintering and preserving uniformity, the needs of trade which overrode religious hostility, experience of travel, the failure to suppress dissident publications, and finally a growing scepticism which denied the claims to exclusive truth advanced by this or that faction. In other words, only two things moved men, once they had fallen away from the generosity of the pre-Reformation era, to substitute an uneasy toleration for a vigorous persecution: the external pressures of experience and the decline of religious fervour. By implication, men of power called for repression and only those who could not hope to win favoured toleration, until general exhaustion set in. It is a convincing enough picture, and much evidence no doubt supports it. But it is a picture—a general and rather schematic panorama which makes little allowance for the real opinions of individuals. On this occasion I should like to test it by looking at the attitudes of two highly articulate sixteenth-century Englishmen—Thomas More, humanist and loyal son of the universal Church, and John Foxe, humanist and faithful protestant. Both, we know, were men of sensitivity and sense. How did they stand to the problem of persecution?


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