opriated, how the "melter"
accompanied the visitors to run the lead upon the roofs,
and the metal of the bells into portable forms. We
see the pensioned regulars filing out reluctantly, or
exulting in their deliverance, discharged from their vows,
furnished each with his "secular apparel," and his purse
of money, to begin the world as he might. These
scenes have long been partially known, and they were
rarely attended with anything remarkable. At the
time of the suppression, the discipline of several years
had broken down opposition, and prepared the way for
the catastrophe. The end came at last, but as an issue
which had been long foreseen.

We have sought in vain, however, for a glimpse
into the interior of the houses at the first intimation
of what was coming--more especially when the great
blow was struck which severed England from obedience
to Rome, and asserted the independence of the Anglican
Church. Then, virtually, the fate of the monasteries was
decided. As soon as the supremacy was vested in the
crown, inquiry into their condition could no longer be
escaped or delayed; and then, through the length and
breadth of the country, there must have been rare dismay.
The account of the London Carthusians is indeed
known to us, because they chose to die rather than
yield submission where their consciences forbade them;
and their isolated heroism has served to distinguish
their memories. The Pope, as head of the Universal
Church, claimed the power of absolving subjects from
their allegiance to their king. He deposed Henry.
He called on foreign princes to enforce his sentence;
and, on pain of excommunication, commanded the
native English to rise in rebellion. The king, in
selfdefence, was compelled to require his subjects to
disclaim all sympathy with these pretensions, and to
recognize no higher authority, spiritual or secular,
than himself within his own dominions. The regular
clergy throughout the country were on the Pope's side,
secretly or openly. The Charter-house monks, however,
alone of all the order had the courage to declare their
convictions, and to suffer for them. Of the rest, we
only perceive that they at last submitted; and since
there was no uncertainty as to their real feelings, we
have been disposed to judge them hardly as cowards.
Yet we who have never been tried, should perhaps be
cautious in our censures. It is possible to hold an
opinion quite honestly, and yet to hesitate about dying
for