No. II.
Sir Thomas More's Letter to Cromwell, concerning the Nun of Kent. Ex MS. Norfolcianis in Coll. Gresham.
Right Worshipful,
After my most hearty recommendation, with like thanks for your goodness, in accepting of my rude long letter. I perceive, that of your further goodness and favour towards me, it liked your mastership to break with my son Roper, of that, that I had had communication, not only with divers that were of acquaintance with the lewd nun of Canterbury, but also with her self; and had, over that, by my writing, declaring favour towards her, given her advice and counsel; of which my demeanour, that it liketh you to be content to take the labour and the pain to hear, by mine own writing, the truth, I very heartily thank you, and reckon my self therein right deeply beholden to you.
It is, I suppose, about eight or nine years ago sith I heard of that housewife first; at which time, the Bishop of Canterbury that then was, God assoil his soul, sent unto the King's Grace a roll of paper, in which were written certain words of hers, that she had, as report was then made, at sundry times spoken in her trances; whereupon it pleased the King's Grace to deliver me the roll, commanding me to look thereon, and afterwards shew him what I thought therein. Whereunto, at another time, when his Highness asked me, I told him, that in good faith I found nothing in these words that I could any thing regard or esteem; for seeing that some part fell in rithm, and that, God wots, full rude also; for any reason, God wots, that I saw therein, a right simple woman might, in my mind, speak it of her own wit wellenough. Howbeit, I said, that because it was constantly reported for a truth, that God wrought in her, and that a miracle was shewed upon her; I durst not, nor would not, be bold in judging the matter. And the King's Grace, as me thought, esteemed the matter as light as it after proved lewd.
From that time, till about Christmass was twelve-month, albeit that continually there was much talking of her, and of her holiness, yet never heard I any talk rehearsed, either of revelation of her's or miracle, saving that I heard say divers times, in my Lord Cardinal's days, that she had been both with his Lordship, and with the King's Grace, but what she said, either to the one or to the other, upon my faith, I had never heard any one word. Now, as I was about to tell you, about Christmas was twelve-month, Father Risby, Friar Observant, then of Canterbury, lodged one night at mine house; where, after supper, a little before he went to his chamber he fell in communication with me of the nun, giving her high commendation of holiness, and that it was wonderful to see and understand the works that God wrought in her; which thing, I answered, that I was very glad to hear it, and thanked God thereof. Then he told me, that she had been with my Lord Legat in his life, and with the King's Grace too; and that she had told my Lord Legat a revelation of hers, of three swords that God hath put in my Lord Legat's hand, which if he ordered not well, God would lay it sore to his charge. The first, she said, was the ordering the spirituality under the Pope, as Legat. The second, the rule that he bore in order of the temporality under the King, as his Chancellor. And the third, she said, was the medling he was put in trust with by the King, concerning the great matter of his marriage. And therewithal I said unto him, that any revelation of the King's matters I would not hear of, I doubt not but the goodness of God should direct his Highness, with his grace and wisdom, that the thing should take such end as God should be pleased with, to the King's honour and surety of the realm. When he heard me say these words, or the like, he said unto me, That God had specially commanded her to pray for the King; and forthwith he brake again into her revelations concerning the cardinal, that his soul was saved by her mediation; and without any other communication went unto his chamber. And he and I never talked any more of any such manner of matter, nor since his departing on the morrow, I never saw him afterwards, to my remembrance, till I saw him at Paul's Cross.
After this, about Shrovetide, there came unto me, a little before supper, Father Rich, Friar Observant of Richmond; and as we fell in talking, I asked him of Father Risby, how he did? And upon that occasion he asked me, Whether Father Risby had any thing shewed me of the holy Nun of Kent? and I said, Yea, and that I was very glad to hear of her vertue. I would not, quoth he, tell you again that you have heard of her already; but I have heard, and known, many great graces that God hath wrought in her, and in other folk, by her, which I would gladly tell you, if I thought you had not heard them already. And therewith he asked me, Whether Father Risby had told me any thing of her being with my Lord Cardinal; and I said Yea: Then he told you, quoth he, of the three swords: Yea verily, quoth I. Did he tell you, quoth he, of the revelations that she had concerning the King's Grace? Nay forsooth, quoth I, nor if he would have done, I would not have given him the hearing; nor verily no more I would indeed, for sith she hath been with the King's Grace her self, and told him, me-thought it a thing needless to tell me, or to any man else. And when Father Rich perceived that I would not hear her revelations concerning the King's Grace, he talked on a little of her vertue, and let her revelations alone; and therewith my supper was set upon the board, where I required him to sit with me; but he would in no wise tarry, but departed to London. After that night I talked with him twice, once in mine own house, another time in his own garden at, the Friars, at every time a great space, but not of any revelations touching the King's Grace, but only of other mean folk, I knew not whom, of which things, some were very strange, and some were very childish. But albeit, that he said, he had seen her lie in her trance in great pains, and that he had at other times taken great spiritual comfort in her communication; yet did he never tell me that she had told him those tales her self; for if he had, I would, for the tale of Mary Magdalene which he told me, and for the tale of the Hostie, with which, as I have heard she said she was houseled at the King's mass at Calice: if I had heard it of him, as told unto himself by her mouth for a revelation, I would have both liked him and her the worse. But whether ever I heard the same tale of Rich or of Risby, or of neither of them both, but of some other man since she was in hold, in good faith I cannot tell; but I wot well when or wheresoever I heard it, me thought it a tale too marvellous to be true, and very likely that she had told some man her dream, which told it out for a revelation. And in effect, I little doubted but that some of these tales that were told of her were untrue; but yet, sith I never heard them reported as spoken by her own mouth, I thought nevertheless that many of them might be true, and she a very vertuous woman too; assome lyes be peradventure written of some that be saints in heaven, and yet many miracles indeed done by them for all that.
After this, I being upon a day at Sion, and talking with divers fathers together at the grate, they shewed me that she had been with them, and shewed me divers things that some of them misliked in her; and in this talking, they wished that I had spoken with her, and said, they would fain see how I should like her. Whereupon, afterward, when I heard that she was there again, I came thither to see her, and to speak with her my self. At which communication had, in a little chappel, there were none present but we two: in the beginning whereof, I shewed that my coming to her was not of any curious mind, any thing to know of such things as folk talked, that it pleased God to reveal and show unto her, but for the great vertue that I had heard. so many years, every day more and more spoken and reported of hers; I therefore had a great mind to see her, and be acquainted with her, that she might have somewhat the more occasion to remember me to God in her devotion and prayers: whereunto she gave me a very good vertuous answer, That as God did of his goodness far better by her than she, a poor wretch, was worthy, so she feared that many folk yet beside that spoke of their own favourable minds many things for her, far above the truth, and that of me she had many such things heard, that already she prayed for me, and ever would; whereof I heartily thanked her. I said unto her, Madam, one Hellen, a maiden dwelling about Totnam, of whose trances and revelations there hath been much talking, she hath been with me of late, and shewed me that she was with you, and that after the rehearsal of such visions as she had seen, you shewed her that they were no revelations, but plain illusions of the Devil, and advised her to cast them out of her mind: and verily she gave therein good credence unto you, and thereupon hath left to lean any longer unto such visions of her own: whereupon she saith, she findeth your words true, for ever since she hath been the less visited with such things as she was wont to be before. To this she answered me, Forsooth, Sir, there is in this point no praise unto me, but the goodness of God, as it appeareth, hath wrought much meekness in her soul, which hath taken my rude warning so well, and not grudged to hear her spirit and her visions reproved. I liked her, in good faith, better for this answer, than for many of these things that I heard reported by her. Afterward she told me, upon that occasion, how great need folk have that are visited with such visions to take heed and prove well of what spirit they come of; and in that communication she told me, that of late the Devil, in the likeness of a bird, was flying and fluttering about her in a chamber, and suffered himself to be taken; and being in hands, suddenly changed, in their sight that were present, into such a strange ugly-fashioned bird, that they were all afraid, and threw him out at a window.
For conclusion; we talked no word of the King's Grace, or any great personage else, nor in effect, of any man or woman, but of her self and myself; but after no long communication had, for or ever we met, my time came to go home, I gave her a double ducate, and prayed her to pray for me and mine, and so departed from her, and never spake with her after. Howbeit, of a truth, I had a great good opinion of her, and had her in great estimation, as you shall perceive by the letter that I wrote unto her. For afterwards, because I had often heard that many right worshipful folks, as well men as women, used to have much communication with her; and many folk are of nature inquisitive and curious, whereby they fall sometimes into such talking, and better were to forbear, of which thing I nothing thought while I talked with her of charity, therefore I wrote her a letter thereof; which sith it may be peradventure, that she brake or lost, I shall insert the very copy thereof in this present letter.
These were the very words.
'Good Madam, and my right dearly-beloved sister in our Lord God, after most hearty commendation, I shall beseech you to take my good mind in good worth, and pardon me, that I am so homely as of my self unrequired, and also without necessity, to give counsel to you, of whom for the good inspirations and great revelations that it liketh Almighty God of his goodness to give and shew, as many wise, well-learned, and very vertuous folk testify, I my self have need, for the comfort of my soul, to require and ask advice. For surely, good Madam, sith it pleased God sometime to suffer, such as are far under and of little estimation, to give yet fruitful advertisement to such other as are in the light of the spirit so far above them, that there were between them no comparison; as he suffered his high prophet Moses to be in some things advised and counselled by Jethro, I cannot, for the love that in our Lord I bear you, refrain to put you in remembrance of one thing, which in my poor mind I think highly necessary to be by your wisdom considered, referring the end, and the order thereof, to God and his Holy Spirit, to direct you. Good Madam, I doubt not, but that you remember that in the beginning of my communication with you, I shewed you, that I neither was, nor would be, curious of any knowledge of other men's matters, and least of all of any matter of princes, or of the realm, in case it so were, that God had, as to many good folks beforetime he hath, any time revealed unto you such things, I said unto your ladyship, that I was not only not desirous to hear of, but also would not hear of. Now, Madam, I consider well that many folk desire to speak with you, which are not all peradventure of my mind in this point; but some hap to be curious and inquisitive of things that little pertain unto their parts; and some might peradventure hap to talk of such things as might peradventure after turn to much harm; as I think you have heard how the late Duke of Buckingham, moved with the fame of one that was reported for an holy monk, and had such talking with him, as after was a great part of his destruction, and disheriting of his blood, and great slander and infamy of religion. It sufficeth me, good Madam, to put you in remembrance of such things, as I nothing doubt your wisdom, and the Spirit of God shall keep you from talking with any person, specially with high persons, of any such manner things as pertain to princes affairs, or the state of the realm, but only to commune and talk with any persons high and low, of such manner things as may to the soul be profitable for you to shew, and for them to know. And thus, my good lady, and dearly beloved sister in our Lord, I make an end of this my needless advertisement unto you, whom the blessed Trinity preserve and increase in grace, and put in your mind to recommend me and mine unto him in your devout prayers. At Chelsey, this Tuesday, by the hand of
At the receipt of this letter, she answered my servant, that she heartily thanked me: soon after this there came to mine house the Prior of the Charter-house at Schene, and one brother Williams with him, who nothing talked to me, but of her, and of the great joy that they took in her vertue, but of any of her revelations, they had no communication. But at another time brother Williams came to me, and told me a long tale of her being at the house of a Knight in Kent, that was sore troubled with temptations to destroy himself; and none other thing we talked of, nor should have done of likelyhood, though we had tarried together much longer, he took so great pleasure, good man, to tell the tale, with all the circumstances at length. When I came again another day to Sion, on a day in which there was a profession, some of the Fathers asked me how I liked the Nun? And I answered, that, in good faith, I liked her very well in her talking; howbeit, quoth I, she is never the nearer tried by that, for I assure you, she were likely to be very bad, if she seemed good, e're I should think her other, till she happened to be proved naught; and in good faith, that is my manner indeed, except I were set to search and examine the truth, upon likelyhood of some cloaked evil; for in that case, although I nothing suspected the person my self, yet no less than if I suspected him sore, I would as far as my wit would serve me search to find out the truth, as your self hath done very prudently in this matter; wherein you have done, in my mind, to your great laud and praise, a very meritorious deed, in bringing forth to light such detestable hypocrisy, whereby every other wretch may take warning, and be feared to set forth their own devilish dissembled falsehood, under the manner and colour of the wonderful work of God; for verily, this woman so handled her self, with help of that evil spirit that inspired her, that after her own confession declared at St. Paul's Cross, when I sent word by my servant unto the Prior of the Charterhouse, that she was undoubtedly proved a false deceiving hypocrite; the good man had had so good opinion of her so long, that he could at the first scantly believe me therein. Howbeit it was not he alone that thought her so very good, but many another right good man besides, as little marvel was upon so good report, till she was proved naught.
[I remember me further, that in communication between Father Rich and me; I counselled him, that in such strange things as concerned such folk as had come unto her, to whom, as she said, she had told the causes of their coming, e're themselves spake thereof; and such good fruit as they said that many men had received by her prayer, he, and such other as so reported it, and thought that the knowledge thereof should much pertain to the glory of God, should first cause the things to be well and sure examined by the ordinaries, and such as had authority thereunto; so that it might be surely known whether the things were true or not, and that there were no letters intermingled among them, or else the letters might after hap to aweigh the credence of these things that were true. And when he told me the tale of Mary Magdalen, I said unto him, Father Rich, that she is a good vertuous woman, in good faith, T hear so many good folk so report, that I verily think it true; and think it well likely that God worketh some good and great things by her; but yet are, you wot well, these strange tales no part of our creed; and therefore before you see them surely proved, you shall have my poor counsel, not to wed your self so far forth to the credence of them, as to report them very surely for true, least that if it should hap that they were afterwards proved false, it might minish your estimation in your preaching, whereof might grow great loss. To this he thanked me for my counsel, but how he used it after that, I cannot tell.
Thus have I, good Mr. Cromwell, fully declared to you, as far as my self can call to remembrance, all that ever I have done or said in this matter, wherein I am sure that never one of them all shall tell you any further thing of effect; for if any of them, or any man else, report of me, as I trust no man verily will, and I wot well truly no man can, any word or deed by me spoken or done, touching any breach of my legal truth and duty toward my most redoubted Soveraign and natural liege Lord, I will come to mine answer, and make it good in such wise as becometh a poor true man to do; that whosoever any such thing shall say, shall therein say untrue: for I neither have in this matter done evil, nor said evil, nor so much as any evil thing thought, but only have been glad, and rejoiced of them that were reported for good; which condition I shall nevertheless keep toward all other good folk, for the false cloaked hypocrisy of any of these, no more than I shall esteem Judas the true apostle, for Judas the false traitor.
But so purpose I to bear my self in every man's company, while I live, that neither good man nor bad, neither monk, friar, nor nun, nor other man or woman in this world, shall make me digress from my truth and faith, either towards God, or towards my natural prince, by the grace of Almighty God; and as you therein find me true, so I heartily therein pray you to continue toward me your favour and good-will, as you shall be sure of my poor daily prayer; for other pleasure can I not do you. And thus the blessed Trinity, both bodily and ghostly, long preserve and prosper you.
I pray you pardon me, that I writ not unto you of mine own hand, for verily I am compelled to forbear writing for a while, by reason of this disease of mine, whereof the chief occasion is grown, as it is thought, by the stooping and leaning on my breast, that I have used in writing. And thus, eftsoons, I beseech our Lord long to preserve you.