John ap Rice to Thomas Cromwell, Visitor-General of

Monasteries.

Bury: Nov. 5, 1535.

Please it your mastership, fforasmoche as I suppose ye shall have sute made unto you touching Burie er we retourne, I thought convenient to advertise you of our procedinges there, and also of the compertes, of the same.

As for thabbot, we found nothing suspect as touching his lyving, but it was detected that he laye moche forth in his granges, that he delited moche in playing at dice and cardes, and therin spent moche money, and in buylding for his pleasure. He did not preche openly. Also that he converted divers fermes into copie holdes, wherof poore men doth complayne. Also he semeth to be addict to the mayntenyng of suche supersticious ceremones as hath ben used heretofor.

As touching the convent, we coulde geate litle or no reportes amonge theym, although we did use moche diligence in our examinacion, and therby, with some other argumentes gethered of their examinacions, I fermely beleve and suppose that they had confedered and compacted before our commyng that they shulde disclose nothing.

And yet it is confessed and proved, that there was here suche frequence of women commyng and reassorting to this monastery as to no place more. Amongest the reliques we founde moche vanitie and superstition, as the coles that Sainte Laurence was tosted withall, the paring of S. Edmundes naylles, S. Thomas of Canterbury penneknyff and his bootes, and divers skulles for the hedache; peces of the holie crosse able to make a hole crosse of; other reliques for rayne and certain other superstitiouse usages, for avoyding of wedes growing in corne, with suche other. Here departe of theym that be under age upon an eight, and of theym that be above age upon a five, wolde departe yf they might, and they be ofthe best sorte in the house and of best lernyng and jugement. The hole nomber of the convent before we cam was lx., saving one, besides iij that were at Oxforde. Of Elie I have

written to your mastership by my felowe Richard a Lee. And thus Almightie God have you in his tuicion. From Burie, vth Novembre.

Your servant moste bounden

JOHNE AP RICE.

XXV.

This letter, illustrative of the condition of some religious houses, was written by a monk of the abbey of Pershore.

Richard Beerley to Sir Thomas Cromwell, Visitor-General of Monasteries.

1536.

Most reverent lord yn God, second person yn this rem of Englond, ynduyd with all grace and goodnes, y submytt my selfe unto your grace and goodnes, desyurying you myckely to be good and gracyus lord unto me synful and poor creatur, my lowly and myck scry bullyng unto your nobull grace at this tyme ys gruggyng yn my conchons that the relygyon wyche we do obser and keype ys no rull of Sentt Benett, nor yt no commandyment of God, nor of no Sentt, but lyyth and foulysse serymonys, mayd sum yn old tyme and sume yn our tyme, by lyyth and ondyscrytt faders, wych have done ther dutys and fulfellyd ther owne serymonys, an lett the preceps an commandymentes of God go. And so have y do thys syx yere, wych doth now greve my conchons sore, that y have byn a dyssymblar so long tyme, the wych relygyon say sent Jamys, ys yn vayne and bryngyng forth no good fruttes; bettur owtt then yn the relygyon, except yt were the tru relygyon of Chryst. Also we do nothyng seyrch for the doctryn of Chryst, but all fowlows our owne sensyaly and pleser. And thys relygyon, as y supposse, ys all yn vayne glory, and nothyng worthy to be except nather before God nor man. Also, most gracyus lord, ther ys a secrett thyng yn my conchons wych dothe move me to goo out of the relygyon, an yf yt were never so perfett, wych no man may know but my gostly fader, the wych I supposs yf a man mothe guge yn other yong persons as yn me selfe, for Chryst say, nolite judicare et non judicabimini; therfore y wyl guge my nowne conchons fyrst, the wych fault he shall know of me heyrafter more largyorly, and many other fowl vycys don amonckst relygyus me[n], not

relygyus men, as y thynk the owtt not to be cald, but dyssymblars with God. Now, most gracyus lord and most worthyst vycytar that ever cam amonckes us, helpe me owt of thys vayne relygyon, and macke me your servant, hande-mayd, and beydman, and save my sowlle, wych shold be lost yf ye helpe yt not, the wych you may save with on word speckyng, and mayck me wych am now nawtt to cum unto grace and goodnes. Now y wyll ynstrux your grace sumwatt of relygyus men, and how the Kynges grace commandyment ys keyp yn puttyng forth of bockes the beyschatt of Rome userpt power. Monckes drynk an bowll after collacyon tell ten or xii. of the clock, and cum to mattens as dronck as myss, and sume at cardes, sume at dyyss, and at tabulles, sume cum to mattens begenynge at the mydes, and sume when yt ys allmost done, and wold not cum ther so only for boddly punnysment, nothyng for Godes sayck, wyth many other vycys the use, wych y have no leser now to express. Also abbettes, monckes, prest, dont lyttyl or nothyng to put owtt of bockes the beyshatt of Romes name, for y my seylfe do know yn dyvers bockes wher ys name and hys userpt powor upon us ys. No mor unto your nobul grace at thays tyme, but Jesu preserve you to pleser. Amen.

Your commyssary commandyd me to wrytt my mynd unto your nobul grace, by my oathe I toyk of him yn our chaptur hows.

Be me, your beydman, Ryc. Beerley, now

The death of Lady Cecil, the wife of Secretary Robert Cecil, was the occasion of a letter of condolence from Ralegh to her husband-for the two statesmen were firm friends in the year 1596.

If the letter does not help to illustrate Mr. Hume's remark that Ralegh's prose was the best model of our ancient style,' it, at least, is thoroughly characteristic of the writer. His fortunes were on the wane, and he was passing into a phase of disappointment and sorrow. His most recent biographer, Mr. Edwards, to whom we are indebted for a fresh store of correspondence, remarks of this particular letter:-'Perhaps few men of like mental calibre have taken so long a time to learn

the lessons of bereavement or the uses of adversity. The task,
however, was got by heart at last. We have here Ralegh's
crude notions about the theme before he had really learnt a
line of it.'

✓ Sir Walter Ralegh to Secretary Sir Robert Cecil.

Sherborne: Jan 24, 1596.

Sir, Because I know not how you dispose of yourself, I forbeare to vissitt you; preferringe your plesinge before myne own desire. I had rather be with you now then att any other tyme, if I could therby ether take of frome you the burden of your sorrows, or lay the greater part therof on myne owne hart. In the mean tyme, I would butt minde you of this,—that you should not overshaddo your wisdome with passion, butt looke aright into things as the are.

There is no man sorry for death it sealf, butt only for the tyme of death; every one knowing that it is a bound never forfeted to God. If then wee know the same to be certayne and inevitable, wee ought withall to take the tyme of his arivall in as good part as the knowledge; and not to lament att the instant of every seeminge adversety, whiche, we ar asured, have bynn on ther way towards us from the beginninge. It apartayneth to every man of a wize and worthy spirritt to draw together into sufferance the unknown future to the known present; lookinge no less with the eyes of the minde then thos of the boddy-the one beholdinge afar of, and the other att hand-that thos things of this worlde in which we live be not strange unto us, when the approach, as to febleness, which is moved with noveltes. Butt that, like true men, participating immortalletye, and know[ing] our destines to be of God, wee then make our estates and wishes, our fortunes and desires, all one.

It is trew that you have lost a good and vertuous wife, and my sealf an honorable frinde and kynswoman. Butt ther was a tyme when shee was unknowne to you, for whom you then lamented not. Shee is now no more your's, nor of your acquayntance, butt immortall, and not needinge or knowing your love or sorrow. Therefore you shall but greve for that which now is as then it was, when not your's; only bettered by the differance in this, that shee hath past the weresome journey of this darke worlde, and hath

possession of her inheritance. Shee hath left behind her the frute of her love, for whos sakes you ought to care for your sealf, that you leve them not without a gwyde, and not by grevinge to repine att His will that gave them you, or by sorrowing to dry up your own tymes that ought to establishe them.

I beleve it that sorrows are dangerus companions, converting badd into yevill and yevill in worse, and do no other service then multeply harms. They ar the treasures of weak harts and of the foolishe. The minde that entertayneth them is as the yearth and dust wheron sorrows and adversetes of the world do, as the beasts of the field, tread, trample, and defile. The minde of man is that part of God which is in us, which, by how mich it is subject to passion, by so mich it is farther from Hyme that gave it us. Sorrows draw not the dead to life, butt the livinge to death. And, if I weare my sealf to advize my sealf in the like, I would never forgett my patience till I saw all and the worst of yevills, and so greve for all att once; least, lamenting for sume one, another might not remayne in the poure of Destiney of greater discumfort.

Your's ever beyound the pour of words to utter

W. RALEGH.

XXVII.

Sir Walter Ralegh was the chief victim of the half-hearted Spanish policy of King James I. He had been condemned to death for secretly allying himself with Spanish interests, but the sentence was commuted to perpetual imprisonment. His execution, some fifteen years afterwards, was brought about by an almost unavoidable collision with Spanish troops during the ill-advised expedition to Guiana in search of his El Dorado.' True, when this ambitious explorer, after thirteen years' imprisonment, was released conditionally from the Tower, he was pledged not to molest the Spaniards: but, unfortunately, Spanish blood was shed, and not a single nugget of gold was brought home to compensate for his disobedience.

Sir Walter Ralegh to King James I.

The Tower: Sept. 24, 1618.

If in my jorny outuard bound I had of my men murthered at the Islands, and spared to tak revenge; if I did discharge some Spanish barkes taken, without spoile; if I forbare all partes of the