The Story of Bishop Ridley Among many other worthy histories and notable acts of
such as have been martyred for the true gospel of Christ, the tragical story of
Dr. Ridley I thought good to chronicle and leave to perpetual memory, beseeching
thee, gentle reader, with care and study well to peruse, diligently to consider,
and deeply to print the same in thy breast, seeing him to be a man beautified
with such excellent qualities, so ghostly inspired and godly learned,
and now written doubtless in the book of life, with the blessed saints of the
Almighty crowned and throned amongst the glorious company of martyrs.
Descending of a stock right worshipful, he was born in Northumberlandshire.
He learned his grammar with great dexterity in Newcastle and was removed
from thence to the University of Cambridge, where he in short time became
so famous that for his singular aptness he was called to be head of Pembroke Hall,
and there made Doctor of Divinity.
Departing from thence he travelled to Paris.
At his return was made chaplain to King Henry VIII and promoted afterwards by him
to the Bishopric of Rochester, and so from thence translated to the See
and Bishopric of London in King Edward's days.
He so occupied himself by preaching and teaching the true and wholesome doctrine
of Christ that never good child was more singularly loved of his dear parents than
he of his flock and diocese.
Every holiday and Sunday he preached in some place or other, except he was
lettered by weighty affairs.
To his sermons the people resorted, swarming about him like bees, coveting the
sweet flowers and wholesome juice of the fruitful doctrine, which he did not only
preach but showed the same by his life as a glittering lanthorn to the eyes and
senses of the blind, in such pure order that his very enemies could not reprove
him in any one jot.
He was well learned, his memory was great, and he of such reading withal that of
right he deserved to be comparable to the best of this our age, as can testify his
notable works, pithy sermons, and disputations in both the universities,
as also his very adversaries, all of which will say no less themselves.
Wise he was of counsel, deep of wit, and very politic in all his doings.
In fine he was such a prelate, and in all points so good, godly,
and ghostly a man, that England may justly rue the loss of so worthy a treasure.
He was a man right, comely, and well proportioned, both in complexion and
lineaments of the body.
He took all things in good part, bearing no malice nor rancor in his heart,
but straightways forgetting all injuries and offenses done against him.
He was very kind to his kinsfolk, and yet not bearing with them anything
otherwise than right would require, giving them always for a general rule,
yea to his own brother and sister, that they, doing evil, should seek or look
for nothing at his hand, but should be as strangers and aliens unto him,
and they to be his brother and sister, which used honesty and a godly trade of
life.
He, using all kinds of ways to mortify himself, was given to much prayer and
contemplation, for duly every morning, so soon as his apparel was done upon him,
he went forthwith to his bedchamber, and there upon his knees prayed the space
of half an hour, which being done, immediately he went to his study,
if there came no other business to interrupt him, where he continued till ten
of the clock, and then came to the common prayer daily used in his house.
The prayers being done, he went to dinner, where he used little talk, except occasion
by some had been ministered, and was it sober, discreet, and wise, and sometimes
merry, as cause required.
The dinner done, which was not very long, he used to sit an hour or thereabouts,
talking or playing at the chess, that done, he returned to his study,
and there would continue, except suitors or business abroad were occasion of the
contrary, until five of the clock at night, and then would come to common
prayer as in the forenoon, which being finished, he went to supper, behaving
himself there as at his dinner before.
After supper, recreating himself in playing at chess the space of an hour,
he would return again to his study, continuing there till eleven of the clock
at night, which was his common hour to go to bed, then saying his prayers upon his
knees, as in the morning when he rose.
Being at his manor of Fulham, as divers times he used to be, he read daily a
lecture to his family at the common prayer, beginning at the Acts of the
Apostles, and so going through all the epistles of St. Paul, giving to every man
that could read a New Testament, hiring them besides with money to learn by
heart certain principal chapters, but especially Acts 13, reading also unto
his household oftentimes Psalm 101, being marvellous careful over his family,
that they might be a spectacle of all virtue and honesty to others.
To be short, as he was godly and virtuous himself, so nothing but virtue and
godliness reigned in his house, feeding them with the food of our Saviour
Jesus Christ.
Remaineth a word or two to be declared of his gentle nature and kindly pity in the
usage of an old woman called Mrs. Bonner, mother to Dr. Bonner, sometime Bishop of
London.
Bishop Ridley, being at his manor of Fulham, always sent for this said Mrs.
Bonner, dwelling in a house adjoining to his house, to dinner and supper,
saying, Go for my mother Bonner, who, coming, was ever placed in the chair
at the table's end, being so gently entreated as though he had been born of
her own body, being never displaced of her seat, although the king's counsel had been
present, saying, when any of them were there, as divers' times they were,
By your lordship's favour this place of right and custom is for my mother Bonner.
But how well he was recompensed for this his singular gentleness and pitiful piety
after, at the hands of the said Dr. Bonner, almost the least child that goeth
by the ground can declare!
For who afterward was more enemy to Ridley than Bonner?
Who more went about to seek his destruction than he?
Recompensing this his gentleness with extreme cruelty, as well as appeared by
the straight handling of Ridley's own sister and George shipside her husband.
Whereas the gentleness of Ridley did suffer Bonner's mother, sister,
and other of his kindred, not only quietly to enjoy all which they had of Bonner,
but also entertain them in his house, showing much courtesy and friendship daily
unto them, on the other side Bishop Bonner being restored again, courishly,
without all order of law and honesty, by extort power wrested from the brother
and sister of Bishop Ridley, all the livings they had.
And being not therewith satisfied, he sought to work the death of the
foresaid shipside, which had been brought to pass indeed, at what time he was
prisoner at Oxford, had not God otherwise wrought his deliverance by means of Dr.
Heath, the Bishop of Worcester.
About the 8th of September, 1552, Dr. Ridley, then Bishop of London,
lying at his house at Hadham, in Hertfordshire, went to visit the Lady
Mary, afterwards Queen Mary, then lying at Hunsdon, two miles off, and was gently
entertained by Sir Thomas Wharton and other her officers, till almost eleven o
'clock, about which time the said Lady Mary came forth into her chamber of
presence, and then the said Bishop there saluted her grace, and said that he was
come to do this duty to her grace.
Then she thanked him for his pains, and for a quarter of an hour talked with
him very pleasantly, said that she knew him in the court when he was chaplain to
her father, and so dismissed him to dine with her officers.
After dinner was done, the Bishop being called for by the said Lady Mary,
resorted again to her grace, between whom this communication was.
First, the Bishop beginneth in manner as followeth, Madam, I came not only to do my
duty, to see your grace, but also to offer myself to preach before you on Sunday,
if it will please you to hear me.
At this her countenance changed, and after silence for a space,
she answered thus, Mary, My Lord, as for this last matter, I pray you make
the answer to it yourself.
Bishop, Madam, considering mine office in calling, I am bound in duty to make your
grace this offer, to preach before you.
Mary, well I pray you make the answer, as I have said, to this matter yourself,
for you know the answer well enough.
But if there be no remedy, but I must make you aware, this shall be your answer.
The door of the parish church adjoining shall be open for you if you come,
and ye may preach if you list, but neither I, nor any of mine,
shall hear you.
Bishop, Madam, I trust you will not refuse God's word.
Mary, I cannot tell what ye call God's word.
That is not God's word now.
That was God's word in my father's days.
Bishop, God's word is all one in all times, but hath been better understood and
practiced in some ages than in others.
Mary, you durst not, for your ears have avouched that for God's word in my
father's days that now you do.
And as for your new books, I thank God I never read any of them, I never did,
nor ever will do.
And after many bitter words against the form of religion then established,
and against the government of the realm and the laws made in the young years of
her brother, which she said she was not bound to obey till her brother came to
perfect age, and then she affirmed she would obey them, she asked the bishop
whether he were one of the council.
He answered no.
You might well enough, said she, as the council goeth nowadays.
And so she concluded with these words.
My Lord, for your gentleness to come and see me, I thank you.
But for your offering to preach before me, I thank you never a whit.
Then the said bishop was brought by Sir Thomas Wharton to the place where they
dined, and was desired to drink.
And after he had drunk, he paused a while, looking very sadly, and suddenly break out
into these words.
Surely I have done amiss.
Why so?
quoth Sir Thomas Wharton.
For I have drunk, said he, in that place where God's word offered hath been
refused.
Whereas if I had remembered my duty, I ought to have departed immediately,
and to have shaken off the dust of my shoes for a testimony against this house.
These words were by the said bishop spoken with such a vehemency, that some of the
hearers afterwards confessed their hair to stand upright on their heads.
What time King Edward by long sickness began to appear more feeble and weak,
a marriage was concluded between the Lord Guilford, son to the Duke of
Northumberland, and the Lady Jane, the Duke of Suffolk's daughter,
whose mother, being then alive, was daughter to Mary, King Henry's second
sister, who first was married to the French King, and afterward to Charles,
Duke of Suffolk.
The King, waxing every day more sick than other, whereas indeed there seemed in him
no hope of recovery, it was brought to pass by the consent, not only of the
nobility, but also of the chief lawyers of the realm, that the King, by his
testament, did appoint the aforesaid Lady Jane to be inheritrix unto the crown of
England, passing over his two sisters, Mary and Elizabeth.
The causes laid against Lady Mary were that it was feared she would marry with a
stranger and thereby entangle the crown, also that she would clean-alter religion,
bring in the Pope to the utter destruction of the realm.
King Edward, not long after this, departed, by the vehemency of his
sickness, when he was sixteen years of age, with whom decayed in a manner the
whole flourishing estate and honour of the English nation.
This Jane was forthwith published Queen at London, and in other cities where was any
great resort.
Between this young damsel and King Edward there was little difference in age,
though in learning and knowledge of the tongues she was superior unto him.
If her fortune had been as good as was her bringing up, joined with fineness of wit,
undoubtedly she might have seemed comparable not only to your Aspasius and
Sempronius to wit the mother of Gracchi, yea, to any other woman beside,
that deserved high praise for their singular learning, but also to the
university men, which have taken many degrees of the schools.
In the meantime, while these things were a-working at London, Mary, who had
knowledge of her brother's death, writeth to the lords of the council a
letter wherein she claimeth the crown.
My lords, we require you, that of your allegiance which you owe to God and us,
and to none other, forthwith upon receipt hereof, do cause our right and title to
the crown, and government of this realm, to be proclaimed in our city of London,
and other places.
To this letter of the Lady Mary, the lords of the council made answer.
This is to advertise you, that forasmuch as our sovereign Lady Queen Jane is
invested and possessed with the just and right title in the imperial crown of this
realm, not only by good order of old ancient laws of this realm, but also by
our late sovereign lord's letters patent, signed with his own hand, and sealed with
the great seal of England, we must therefore, as of most bounden duty and
allegiance, assent unto her said grace, and to none other.
This answer received, and the minds of the lords perceived, Lady Mary speedeth
herself secretly away far off from the city, hoping chiefly upon the good will of
the commons, and yet perchance not destitute altogether of the secret
advertisements of some of the nobles.
When the council heard of her sudden departure, and perceived her stoutness,
and that all came not to pass as they supposed, they gathered speedily a power
of men together, appointing an army, and first assigned that the Duke of
Suffolk should take that enterprise in hand, and so have the leading of the band.
But afterward, altering their minds, they thought it best to send forth the
Duke of Northumberland, with certain other lords and gentlemen, and that the Duke of
Suffolk should keep the tower, where the Lord Guildford and the Lady Jane
the same time were lodged.
Mary in the meanwhile, tossed with much travail up and down to work the surest way
for her best advantage, withdrew herself into Norfolk and Suffolk, where she
understood the Duke's name to be had in much hatred for the service that had been
done there of late under King Edward in subduing the rebels.
And there, gathering to her as such aid of the commons on every side as she might,
kept herself close for a space within Framingham Castle, to whom first of all
resorted the Suffolk men, who, being always forward in promoting the
proceedings of the gospel, promised her their aid, so that she would not attempt
the alteration of the religion which her brother King Edward had before established
by laws and orders publicly enacted and received by the consent of the whole
realm.
Unto this condition she effsoons agreed.
Thus Mary, being guarded with the power of the gospelers, did vanquish the Duke and
all those that came against her.
In the meantime, God turned the hearts of the people to her and against the council,
which after the council perceived, and that certain noblemen began to go the
other way, they turned their song and proclaimed for Queen the Lady Mary.
And so the Duke of Northumberland was left destitute and forsaken at Cambridge with
some of his sons and a few others, who were arrested and brought to the Tower
of London as traitors to the crown.
Mary, when she saw all in quiet by means that her enemies were conquered,
followed up the third day of August to London, with the great rejoicing of many
men, but with a greater fear of more, and yet with flattery peradventure most
great of feigned hearts.
Her first lodging she took at the Tower, where the aforesaid Lady Jane with her
husband the Lord Guilford were imprisoned, where they remained waiting her pleasure
almost five months.
Lady Jane Grey was executed on the 12th February 1554.
But the Duke, within a month after his coming to the Tower, being adjusted to
death, was brought forth to the scaffold and there beheaded.
Mary, besides hearing Mass herself in the Tower, every day more and more discomfited
the people, declaring herself to bear no goodwill to the present state of religion.
Such whose consciences were joined to truth perceived already coals to be
kindled, which after should be the destruction of many a true Christian man.
Diver's bishops were removed, and others placed in their rooms, amongst whom was
Dr. Ridley.
In the time of Queen Jane, he had made a sermon at St. Paul's Cross, so commanded
by the council, declaring there his mind to the people as touching the Lady Mary,
alleging the inconveniences which might rise by receiving her to be their Queen,
prophesying, as it were before, that which after came to pass,
that she would bring in foreign power to reign over them, besides subverting all
Christian religion.
Showing that there was no other hope of her to be conceived, but to disturb and
overturn all that which, with so great labours, had been confirmed and planted by
her brother.
Shortly after this sermon, Queen Mary was proclaimed, whereupon he, speedily
repairing to Framingham, to salute the Queen, had such cold welcome there,
that being despoiled of all his dignities, he was sent back upon a lame halting-horse
to the tower.
About the 10th of March, Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, Ridley,
Bishop of London, and Hugh Latimer, Bishop also sometime of Worcester,
were conveyed as prisoners from the tower to Windsor.
And from thence to the University of Oxford, there to dispute with the divines
and learned men of both the universities, Oxford and Cambridge, about the presence,
substance, and sacrifice of the sacrament.
The articles whereupon they should dispute were these.
First, whether the natural body of Christ be really in the sacrament after the words
spoken by the priest or not.
Secondly, whether in the sacrament, after the words of consecration,
any other substance do remain than the substance of the body and blood of Christ.
Thirdly, whether in the Mass be a sacrifice propitiatory for the sins of the
quick and the dead.
Dr. Ridley answered without any delay, saying they were all false, and that they
sprang out of a bitter and sour root.
His answers were sharp, witty, and very learned.
He was asked whether he would dispute or no.
He answered that as long as God gave him life, he should not only have his heart,
but also his mouth and pen to defend his truth.
But he required time and books.
They said that he should dispute on Thursday, and till that time he should
have books.
Then gave they him the articles, and bade him write his mind of them that
night.
The report and narration of Master Ridley, concerning the misordered disputation had
against him and his fellow prisoners at Oxford.
I never yet, since I was born, saw anything handled more vainly or
tumultuously than the disputation which was with me in the schools at Oxford.
Yea, verily, I could never have thought that it had been possible to have found
amongst men recounted to be of knowledge and learning in this realm, any so
brazen-faced and shameless, so disorderly and vainly to behave themselves,
more like to stage players in interludes to set forth a pageant, than to grave
divines in schools to dispute.
And no great marvel, seeing they which should have been moderators and overseers
of others, and which should have given good examples in words and gravity,
gave worst example above all others, and did, as it were, blow the trump to the
rest, to rave, roar, rage, and cry out.
By reason whereof, good Christian reader, manifestly it may appear that they never
sought for any truth of verity, but only for the glory of the world and
their own bragging victory.
A great part of the time appointed for the disputations was vainly consumed in
opprobrious checks and reviling taunts, with hissing and clapping of hands,
to procure the people's favour withal.
All which things, when I with great grief of heart did behold, protesting openly,
that such excessive and outrageous disorder was unseemly for those schools,
and men of learning and gravity, and that they which were the doers and
stirrers of such things, did nothing else but betray the slenderness of their cause
and their own vanities.
I was so far off by this my humble complaint from doing any good at all,
that I was enforced to hear such rebukes, checks, and taunts for my labour,
as no person of any honesty, without blushing, could abide to hear the like
spoken of a most vile violet against a most wretched ruffian.
At the first beginning of the disputation, when I should have confirmed mine answer
to the first proposition in few words, afore I could make an end of my first
probation, even the doctors themselves cried out, He speaketh blasphemies!
He speaketh blasphemies!
And when I on my knees besought them, and that heartily, that they would
vouchsafe to hear me to the end, whereat the proculator, being moved,
cried out on high, Let him read it!
Let him read it!
Yet, when I began to read again, there followed immediately such shouting,
such a noise and tumult, such confusion of voices, crying, Blasphemies!
blasphemies!
as I, to my remembrance, never heard or read the like, except it be that one,
which was in the acts of the apostles, stirred up by Demetrius the silversmith,
and others of his occupation, crying out against Paul, Great is Diana of the
Ephesians!
Great is Diana of the Ephesians!
The witch-cries and tumults of them against me so prevailed, that I was
enforced to leave off the reading of my probations, although they were short.
After the disputation the Friday following, which was the 20th of April,
the commissioners sat in St. Mary's Church, and Dr. Weston used particular
dissuasions with every one of them, and would not suffer them to answer in any
wise, but directly and pre-emptorily, as his words were, to say whether they
would subscribe or no.
And first to the Archbishop of Canterbury, he said he was overcome in disputations,
to whom the Archbishop answered that he was not suffered to oppose as he would,
nor could answer as he was required, unless he would have brawled with them,
so thick their reasons came one after another.
Ever four or five did interrupt him that he could not speak.
Master Ridley and Master Latimer were asked what they would do, and they replied
that they would stand to that they had said.
Then were they all called together, and sentence read over them, that they
were no members of the church, and therefore they, their forters and
patrons, were condemned as heretics.
After which they answered again, every one in his turn.
The Archbishop of Canterbury, From this your judgment and sentence I appeal to the
just judgment of God Almighty, trusting to be present with Him in heaven,
for whose presence in the altar I am thus condemned.
Dr. Ridley, although I be not of your company, yet doubt I not but my name is
written in another place, whether this sentence will send us sooner than we
should by the course of nature have come.
Master Latimer, I thank God most heartily that He hath prolonged my life to this
end, that I may in this case glorify God by that kind of death.
After the sentence pronounced, they were separated one from another.
The archbishop was returned to Picardo.
Dr. Ridley was carried to the sheriff's house, Master Latimer to the bailiffs.
A detailed account of the martyrdom of Bishop Ridley will be found in the next chapter.