This Christian brotherhood exercised a powerful influence over the people, and was beginning to substitute the spiritual and life-giving principles of the Gospel for the legal and theocratic ideas of popery. These pious men required a moral regeneration in their hearers, and entreated them to enter, through faith in the Saviour, into an intimate relation with God, without having recourse to the mediation of the clergy; and those who listened to them, enraptured at hearing of truth, grace, morality, liberty, and of the Word of God, took the teachings to heart. Thus began a new era. It has been asserted that the Reformation entered England by a back-door. Not so; it was the true door these missionaries opened, having even prior to the rupture with Rome preached the doctrine of Christ.[9] Idly do men speak of Henry’s passions, the intrigues of his courtiers, the parade of his ambassadors, the skill of his ministers, the complaisance of the clergy, and the vacillations of parliament. We, too, shall speak of these things; but above them all there was something else, something better,—the thirst exhibited in this island for the Word of God, and the internal transformation accomplished in the convictions of a great number of its inhabitants. This it was that worked such a powerful revolution in British society. [Sidenote: Table Talk.] In the interval between the issuing of the writs and the meeting of parliament, the most antagonistic opinions came out. Conversation everywhere turned on present and future events, and there was a general feeling that the country was on the eve of great changes. The members of parliament who arrived in London gathered round the same table to discuss the questions of the day. The great lords gave sumptuous banquets, at which the guests talked about the abuses of the Church, of the approaching session of parliament, and of what might result from it.[10] One would mention some striking instance of the avarice of the priests; another slyly called to mind the strange privilege which permitted them to commit, with impunity, certain sins which they punished severely in others. “There are, even in London, houses of ill-fame for the use of priests, monks, and canons.[11] And,” added others, “they would force us to take such men as these for our guides to heaven.” Du Bellay, the French ambassador, a man of letters, who, although a bishop, had attached Rabelais to his person in the quality of secretary, was frequently invited to parties given by the great lords. He lent an attentive ear, and was astonished at the witty, and often very biting remarks uttered by the guests against the disorders of the priests. One day a voice exclaimed,—“Since Wolsey has fallen, we must forthwith regulate the condition of the Church and of its ministers. We will seize their property.” Du Bellay, on his return home, did not fail to communicate these things to Montmorency. “I have no need,” he says,