About the end of 1531, a young minister, John Nicholson, surnamed Lambert, was on board one of the ships that traded between London and Antwerp. He was chaplain to the English factory at the latter place, well versed in the writings of Luther and other reformers, intimate with Tyndale, and had preached the Gospel with power. Being accused of heresy by a certain Barlow, he was seized, put in irons, and sent to London. Alone in the ship, he retraced in his memory the principal events of his life—how he had been converted at Cambridge by Bilney’s ministry; how, mingling with the crowd around St. Paul’s Cross, he had heard the Bishop of Rochester preach against the New Testament; and how, terrified by the impiety of the priests, and burning with desire to gain the knowledge of God, he had crossed the sea. When he reached England, he was taken to Lambeth, where he underwent a preliminary examination. He was then taken to Ottford, where the archbishop had a fine palace, and was left there for some time in a miserable hole, almost without food. At last he was brought before the archbishop, and called upon to reply to forty-five different articles. Lambert, during his residence on the Continent, had become thoroughly imbued with the principles of the Reformation. He believed that it was only by entire freedom of inquiry that men could be convinced of the truth. But he had not wandered without a compass over the vast ocean of human opinions: he had taken the Bible in his hand, believing firmly that every doctrine found therein is true, and everything that contradicts it is false. On the one hand he saw the ultramontane system which opposes religious freedom, freedom of the press, and even freedom of reading; on the other hand protestantism, which declares that every man ought to be free to examine Scripture and submit to its teachings. The archbishop, attended by his officers, having taken his seat in the palace chapel, Lambert was brought in, and the examination began. ‘Have you read Luther’s books?’ asked the prelate. ‘Yes,’ replied Lambert, ‘and I thank God that ever I did so, for by them hath God shown me, and a vast multitude of others also, such light as the darkness cannot abide.’ Then testifying to the freedom of inquiry, he added: ‘Luther desires above all things that his writings and the writings of all his adversaries may be translated into all languages, to the intent that all people may see and know what is said on each side, whereby they may better judge what is the truth. And this is done not only by hundreds and thousands, but by whole cities and countries, both high and low. But (he continued) in England our prelates are so drowned in voluptuous living that they have no leisure to study God’s Scripture; they abhor it, no less than they abhor death, giving no other reason than the tyrannical saying of Sardanapalus: _Sic volo, sic jubeo, sit pro ratione voluntas_, So I will, so do I command, and let my will for reason stand.’[181]