the laws of England, and in the reign of Charles the First was unanimously declared by the judges to be illegal; though, from its introduction in the reign of Henry the Sixth, it had on some occasions been arbitrarily inflicted *.

Ann Askew was closely interrogated respecting the sentiments of those noble ladies with whom she had been intimate; but, ever on her guard, she was careful to say nothing that should criminate them. The lord chancellor, to his everlasting disgrace, then had recourse to the dreadful engine above mentioned, expecting that the extremity of torture would wring from her the desired confession, or, at least, induce her to mention the names of those whom the popish leaders durst not attack without some pretext. But his malice was foiled: Ann Askew endured it all with more than Spartan firmnesswith the heroism of a Christian martyr. She uttered no complaint, but, on being released from the engine, she fainted. Even Henry was displeased when he heard of this excess of barbarity; but he suffered his wicked ministers to complete their work. A scaffold was erected at the place of execution, on which the lord chancellor, the duke of Norfolk, the lord mayor, and some others, sat to witness the last scene

*Chambers, Art. RACK.

of this shameful tragedy. The execution was delayed till after dark, that it might appear more terrible. At length Ann Askew, unable to stand in consequence of the cruel treatment she had experienced, was brought in a chair, and held up against the stake by the chain that fastened her. But though her bodily powers were thus destroyed, her mind retained its unshaken constancy. Three persons were condemned to suffer with her; and, addressing them in the cheerful language of encouragement, she inspired them with fortitude like her own. The king's pardon was offered to her if she would recant, but she refused even to look at it, declaring, that she came not there to deny her Lord! Her companions, animated by similar feelings, refused to purchase their lives on such terms; the reeds were therefore ordered to be set on fire.

No doubt, among the crowd of spectators, many hearts were touched with sympathy, or kindled with enthusiasm, and on them the circumstances of the execution were calculated to make an indelible impression. The angelic and smiling countenance of one of the martyrs, and the heroism manifested by all; the darkness, partially dispelled by the ascending flames, and the peal of thunder, which at that moment rolled through the heavens, might almost convert the indigna

tion excited by this atrocious display of the cruelty of man, into those feelings of deep solemnity which attend the idea of a willing and accepted sacrifice to God*.

This triumph over meaner heretics, by no means satisfied the popish party. They resolved to take a more important advantage of the king's present temper, and, if possible, to effect the ruin of Cranmer and the queen; concluding that, if this design could be accomplished, they should then carry all before them. The death of Charles Brandon, duke of Suffolk, appeared to afford a favourable opportunity for commencing their operations.

With this nobleman, who had married his youngest sister, the king had preserved through life a steady friendship, little to be expected from the capricious violence of his character; and he betrayed much emotion on hearing of his death. In Charles Brandon, the archbishop also sustained a serious loss: a very sincere friendship subsisted between them, and it was thought that the persuasive arguments of Cranmer had induced the duke to think favourably of the reformers, whose patron he was generally esteemed. The papists considered his death a

Southey, p. 87-93.

Burnet, p. 341. Russell, p. 281. Henry, p. 470.

great advantage to their cause, and flattered themselves that the primate, deprived of this support, would have a slighter hold on the favour of the king.

Elated with these hopes, Gardiner (who had so lately experienced the lenity of the archbishop, and pledged himself for future good conduct towards him) surrounded the king with his emissaries, who revived the former accusations of heresy, telling him, that while the primate sat in council, nothing effectual could be done in support of religion; but that, if his majesty would be pleased to commit him to the Tower, it would be seen what ample charges could be substantiated against him. objected; but at length, as if convinced by the force of their representations, he gave permission for the archbishop to be summoned before the council on the morrow, and committed to prison if there should appear to be just cause.

Henry

This was not a resolution on which Henry could sleep in peace: unfeeling as he had shown himself in many instances, he had a thorough conviction of the worth of Cranmer, and a little before midnight sent privately to Lambeth, and called him from his bed. When he arrived at Whitehall, he found the king walking pensively in a long gallery. "My lord of Canterbury," said he, "I have given permission to have you

sent to the Tower. Some lords of council have grievous things to lay to your charge, which they dare not utter while you have free admission to the board."

Cranmer, after thanking the king for not allowing him to be taken by surprise, expressed his willingness that his conduct should be inquired into; and cheerfully offered to go to the Tower, till he should have refuted the accusations of his enemies. Here he was interrupted by a sudden burst of vociferation from the king, who told him he was a fool for so little regarding his own safety; that, if he were once put in prison, abundance of false witnesses would be suborned to ruin him; but that, since he did not take care of himself, he would look to it." You will be sent for," continued he, "in the morning, by the council, and dealt with haughtily. If the lords talk of committing you, desire you may first hear your accusers. If they deny this, appeal from them to our person; and give to them this my ring, as a token that I have taken your cause into my own hands."

Cranmer was summoned accordingly, but instead of being admitted to the council-chamber, he was kept standing in the lobby for nearly an hour. In this situation he was seen by Dr. Butts, the king's physician, who was grieved at the indignity, and ventured to make