how derrick carver was taken to lewes.
when derrick carver was brought before the tribunal, bonner eyed him with a smile of malignant satisfaction, and observed to sheriff woodrooffe, who was sitting near him,—
“at last i have got this pestilent fellow, whom the cardinal has so long screened from justice. he shall not escape now. i will deal roundly with him.”
on this, he caused the minutes of the prisoner’s previous examinations to be read to him by an officer in the court, which being done, bonner said, in a bitter and derisive tone.
“such were the detestable and damnable opinions professed by thee, derrick carver, when thou wert last interrogated in the lollards’ tower; but doubtless the exhortations and persuasions of the lord cardinal have wrought a beneficial change, and thou art now willing to confess thine errors and abjure them.”
“my opinions have undergone no change,” replied carver. “but if any romanist could have converted me, it would be cardinal pole.”
“ah! you admit so much,” cried bonner. “why should cardinal pole prevail with you more than others? hath he more zeal—more devotion—more theological learning than others have?”
“i know not whether he hath more zeal and learning than your lordship, but he has more christian charity,” replied 335carver. “he understands the gospel, and is guided by its precepts, which you are not.”
“belike you deem his eminence less rigid, less orthodox than i am?” said bonner.
“my tenets are not his tenets,” replied carver; “yet i hold him to be a good man, though, unhappily, blinded to the truth. your lordship may be the more orthodox catholic of the two, but you are the worse man.”
“i thank thee for the admission, thou foul-mouthed knave,” cried bonner. “you all hear that he charges the cardinal with unsoundness of opinion,” he added to the court.
“i charge thee with attempting to pervert my words,” retorted carver. “i meant to say that cardinal pole is the chief living light and glory of the church of rome, whereas thou art its shame and reproach. in after times, when this bitter persecution of the faithful is spoken of, reginald pole will be remembered for mildness and toleration, while thou wilt be execrated as the ’bloody bishop bonner’—a name that shall cling to thee for ever!”
“i would rather have thy censure than thy commendation,” rejoined bonner. “had the cardinal treated thee with due severity, thou wouldst never have lauded his virtues. but thou hast said enough to convince us thou art obstinate and impenitent. therefore i shall not take up the time of the court by questioning thee further. down on thy knees while sentence of excommunication is pronounced upon thee.”
“i kneel only to heaven,” replied the prisoner, firmly.
at a sign from the bishop, two officers seized him, and, in spite of his resistance, forced him upon his knees, detaining him in this posture while the sentence was read to him by bonner. this done, he was permitted to rise, and the officers left him.
“thou art now accursed,” pursued bonner, “and henceforward, if any man shall eat with thee, or drink with thee, or otherwise help thee or comfort thee, he will be a partaker in the curse.”
“you have put me out of the communion of a church which i have quitted of my own accord for these ten years,” said carver. “as to your anathemas, they affright me not. may they recoil with added strength on your own head.”
336“away, thou miserable blasphemer!” cried bonner, furiously. “i have done with thee for ever.”
“no, not for ever, thou unrighteous judge,” rejoined carver. “i summon thee to appear with me before the judgment throne of heaven to answer for the blood thou art about to shed.”
so awful was the tone in which these words were uttered, that a profound impression was upon all the hearers, and even bonner trembled. but he quickly shook off his trepidation, and exclaimed,—
“the gates of heaven will be fast closed to you, unless you repent. you will now be delivered to the sheriffs, and by them will be taken to newgate, where you will remain until after your trial. if you are condemned, as i nothing doubt you will be, you will be burned at lewes, from the neighbourhood of which place you come, and where we learn there are many tainted with false doctrines, to whom your death may prove a salutary warning.”
“it will strengthen them in their faith, when they see how a believer in the gospel can die,” rejoined carver.
“away with him!” cried bonner, impatiently. “away with him!”
on this, the prisoner was removed from the court, and conveyed with two others, who had been examined before his arrival at the consistory, to newgate.
by command of sheriff woodrooffe, who accompanied him to the prison, he was placed in a noisome dungeon, and only allowed bread and water. after a few days’ confinement, he was brought up for trial, and, as had been foretold by bonner, condemned to death at the stake.
orders were then given by sheriff woodrooffe that he should be taken to lewes, under a sufficient guard, for immediate execution, and on the following day the little cavalcade set out on its journey, stopping for the first night at croydon. the inhabitants of the place flocked forth to see the prisoner, and many of them expressed great commiseration for him, but he was not permitted by the guard to speak to them, or to receive any refreshments offered him.
“avoid him!” cried father josfrid, a dominican friar by whom he was accompanied; “he is excommunicated, 337and if ye give him aught, ye will share in the heavy curse under which he labours.”
from the exhortations of this zealous monk carver was never for a moment free, though they produced no other effect upon him than annoyance. the escort was commanded by an officer named brand, who had been selected for the business by sheriff woodrooffe on account of his hatred to the protestant party. he was a sullen, sour-tempered personage, and showed his ill will to the prisoner both by word and blow. carver, however, bore this harsh usage without a murmur.
on the second day the party reached east grinstead, where they passed the night, a cellar with a truss of straw laid on the floor being allotted to carver; and starting early on the following morning, they reached ditchling about noon, and, after an hour’s halt, commenced the ascent of the downs.
on arriving at ditchling, the prisoner earnestly besought captain brand to take him to brightelmstone, in order that he might bid farewell to his wife and children, and aged mother; but the petition was refused, the officer declaring he would not go half-a-dozen miles out of his way to pleasure a heretic.
“they can come and see you burned at lewes to-morrow, if they list,” he added, with a savage grin.
hearing what passed, a young man, mounted on a strong iron-grey horse, who had entered the inn-yard almost immediately after the little cavalcade, inquired the nearest road to brightelmstone, and immediately galloped off in that direction.
having mounted the steep hill-side, and passed ditchling beacon, the party proceeded along the brow of the downs, whence such magnificent views of the weald of sussex are obtained, though these now received little attention, until they came to mount harry, on whose verdant slopes was fought the great battle between henry iii. and the barons under simon de montfort, when the ancient and picturesque town of lewes, with its towering castle and ruined priory, its numerous churches, gates, and circling walls, burst upon their view.
“welcome! thou city of refuge,” exclaimed carver, stretching out his hands towards the town. “thou art 338gladsome to mine eyes as was ramoth gilead to the fugitives from jordan. there shall i be at rest.”
“there will be a rare bonfire in that old town to-morrow,” observed captain brand, in a jeering tone, to the prisoner—“a bonfire such as the townsfolk have seldom seen, and which they are likely long to recollect. ’twill be a grand spectacle to those who look on,” he added with stern significance.
“i had rather be the chief actor in the spectacle than a beholder of it,” replied carver; “and i trust those who witness it will long remember it.”
on this, brand rode on, and father josfrid resumed the exhortation which he had been obliged for the nonce to suspend.
