in England, and his trunks were seized, and found to contain 
over £1,600. De Dominis fled to Brussels, and there wrote his 
Consilium Reditûs, giving his reasons for rejoining the Roman Church,
and expecting daily his promised reward--a cardinal's hat and a rich 
bishopric. His hopes were doomed to be disappointed. For a short time 
he received a pension from Gregory XV., but this was discontinued by 
Urban VIII., and our author became dissatisfied and imprudently talked 
of again changing his faith. He was heard to exclaim at supper on one 
occasion, "That no Catholic had answered his book, De Republicâ 
Ecclesiasticâ, but that he himself was able to deal with them." The 
Inquisition seized him, and he was conveyed to the Castle of St. Angelo, 
where he soon died, as some writers assert, by poison. His body and his 
books were burned by the executioner, and the ashes thrown into the 
Tiber. Dr. Fitzgerald, Rector of the English College at Rome, thus 
describes him: "He was a malcontent knave when he fled from us, a 
railing knave when he lived with you, and a motley particoloured knave 
now he is come again." He had undoubtedly great learning and skill in 
controversy, [Footnote: His opinion with regard to the jurisdiction of 
the Metropolitan over suffragan bishops was referred to in the recent 
trial of the Bishop of Lincoln.] but avarice was his master, and he was 
rewarded according to his deserts. [Footnote: Cf. article by the Rev. C. 
W. Penny in the Journal of the Berks Archaeological Society, on 
Antonio de Dominis.] 
The lonely fortress of Mont-Saint-Michel saw the end of a bitter 
controversialist, Noël Bède, who died there in 1587. He wrote Natalis 
Bedoe, doctoris Theol. Parisiensis annotationum in Erasmi 
paraphrases Novi Testamenti, et Jacobi Fabri Stapulensis 
commentarios in Evangelistas, Paulique Epistolas, Libri III., Parisiis, 
1526, in-fol. This work abounds in vehement criticisms and violent 
declamations. Erasmus did not fail to reply to his calumniator, and 
detected no less than eighty-one falsehoods, two hundred and six 
calumnies, and forty-seven blasphemies. Bède continued to denounce 
Erasmus as a heretic, and in a sermon before the court reproached the 
king for not punishing such unbelievers with sufficient rigour. The 
author was twice banished, and finally was compelled to make a public 
retractation in the Church of Notre Dame, for having spoken against the 
king and the truth, and to be exiled to Mont- Saint-Michel. 
Translators of the Bible fared not well at the hands of those who were
unwilling that the Scriptures should be studied in the vulgar tongue by 
the lay-folk, and foremost among that brave band of self-sacrificing 
scholars stands William Tyndale. His life is well known, and needs no 
recapitulation; but it may be noted that his books, rather than his work 
of translating the Scriptures, brought about his destruction. His 
important work called The Practice of Prelates, which was mainly 
directed against the corruptions of the hierarchy, unfortunately 
contained a vehement condemnation of the divorce of Catherine of 
Arragon by Henry VIII. This deeply offended the monarch at the very 
time that negotiations were in progress for the return of Tyndale to his 
native shores from Antwerp, and he declared that he was "very joyous 
to have his realm destitute of such a person." The Practice of Prelates 
was partly written in answer to the Dialogue of Sir Thomas More, who 
was commissioned to combat the "pernicious and heretical" works of 
the "impious enemies of the Church." Tyndale wrote also a bitter 
Answer to the Dialogue, and this drew forth from More his abusive and 
scurrilous Confutation, which did little credit to the writer or to the 
cause for which he contended Tyndale's longest controversial work, 
entitled The Obedience of a Christian Man, and how Christian Rulers 
ought to govern, although it stirred up much hostility against its author, 
very favourably impressed King Henry, who delighted in it, and 
declared that "the book was for him and for all kings to read." The story 
of the burning of the translation of the New Testament at St. Paul's 
Cross by Bishop Tunstall, of the same bishop's purchase of a "heap of 
the books" for the same charitable purpose, thereby furnishing Tyndale 
with means for providing another edition and for printing his 
translation of the Pentateuch, all this is a thrice-told tale. Nor need we 
record the account of the conspiracy which sealed his doom. For 
sixteen months he was imprisoned in the Castle of Vilvoord, and we 
find him petitioning for some warm clothing and "for a candle in the 
evening, for it is wearisome to sit alone in the dark," and above all for 
his Hebrew Bible, Grammar, and Dictionary, that he might spend his 
time in that study. After a long dreary mockery of a trial on October    
    
		
	
	
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