HE MIRROVR
OF VERTVE
in Worldly (treat lies ,
OR
THE LIFE OF >5YR
Thomas More Kmght,
fometime Lo.Chanceliour
of
AT PARI5-
DC XX VI
THE
LIFE AND LETTERS
OF
SIR THOMAS MORE:
BY
AGNES M. STEWART,
Authoress of " Margaret Roper," "Florence O'Neill," "General Questions,"
" Biographical Headings," &c., &c.
CROMWELL. Sir Thomas More is chosen Chancellor in your place.
WOLSEY. That's somewhat sudden.
But he's a learned man, may he continue
Long in his Highness's favor, and do justice
For truth's sake and his conscience, that his bones,
When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings,
May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em.
HENRY VIII. ACT in., SCENE 2.
LONDON :
BURNS & GATES, PORTMAN STREET,
AND PATERNOSTER ROW.
1876.
LIVERPOOL :
PRINTED BY MATTHEWS BROTHERS, THOMAS STREET.
PREFACE.
WITH a feeling of extreme diffidence we devoted ourselves
to the task of writing a life of that Christian hero and
philosopher, the learned and estimable Sir Thomas More.
His character is one on which the mind loves to linger,
so learned was he, yet so simple in his ways ; full of innocent
playfulness as a little child ; ever unmindful of self and bene-
ficent to others, so that he may justly be regarded as one of
the best and greatest of Englishmen.
It was well for those amongst whom he lived that he was
mistaken as to his vocation to a religious life, for he was
doubtless destined by Providence as a bright example, to
show unto others how they should educate their children,
serve their country, and, at the same time, practise the
Christian virtues of piety, humility, and continency.
It is hoped that the Letters, and abstracts of letters
written by More, which have been printed in this volume,
may be perused with interest by the reader ; indeed, without
11 PREFACE.
them, it would have seemed superfluous to publish the
work, varjous lives of the Chancellor having already been
written. The limits of this volume have forbidden the
publication of more than portions of some of them, on
account of their extreme length, but many are given in their
entirety ; and of the remainder, the pith of each has been
extracted, whilst all are reproduced which have appeared in
the pages of the old biographer, Cresacre More.
A far better idea of the noble and heroic character of the
Chancellor may be gathered from his own epistles than
from the words of others ; and it is hoped that the present
humble attempt at gathering together much that has not
appeared in former works may meet with a gracious
reception, though some more worthy pen than ours shall
perchance write hereafter of this brave English Martyr,
collecting together further documents deposited perhaps in
Libraries, to which we have not been so privileged as to
have access.
The character of Sir Thomas More was great in all its
moral aspects, fork was never sullied by ambition or avarice,
and whilst bound to Henry by the greatness of the benefits
that had been conferred upon him, and entirely loyal at the
same time, he was proof against blandishments and threats,
and though from the first moment that he thwarted the
wishes of the despotic Tudor sovereign he must have been
PREFACE. Ill
well aware that life-long imprisonment, or the block, would
be the result, he yet stood firm unto the last, steady and
true to the voice of his own conscience.
His famous work, the Utopia, won for him the greatest
popularity at home and abroad, and one would think that
some of the passages with which it abounds must needs
have been unpleasant to the Tudor King.
" In the Counsels of Princes," he therein observes,
" good advice proves of no avail, because the servant is
never consulted by the master, except with the view of
gratifying his passions." This great man was far in advance
of the times in which he lived, for in his Utopia, written
more than three centuries ago, he anticipates Lord Ashley's
factory bill, advocating six hours for labour and the rest for
recreation and study, and also condemning the heavy punish-
ments then inflicted for small crimes of theft, &c.*
In his imaginary Republic, fathers and grandfathers, with
their married sons and daughters, reside together as one
family, and if such a style of living be deemed incompatible
with family harmony, More'sown conduct proved the contrary,
for he, like a true philosopher, set the example by practising
his own precepts in an exemplary manner.
His contemporaries have left the abundant proof that in
More's home at Chelsea there was no strife or discord, but
* Lord Campbell.
IV PREFACE.
that, on the contrary, peace, love, refinement, purity, and all
the little courtesies and amenities of life were most tenderly
cherished ; and that never was master more faithfully served,
friend more valued, or father more beloved, than was
Sir Thomas More.
In his Utopia, that fairy-land born of his imagination,
every man was to be at perfect liberty to follow whatever
religion he pleased, and to try to draw others to it by force
of argument ; but ten years later, after the change of religion
brought in by Lutheranism, and branching off into many
other sectaries, had desolated Europe, a great change had
taken place in the feelings of More, a prophetic fear filled
his mind, and he strove by all the means in his power to
stem the tide of heresy, and devcted himself with all the
energy of his earnest nature to the cause of the Church.
He and the Bishop of Rochester stand foremost in the
army of English Martyrs for the supremacy of the Holy
See, and many of those who afterwards shed their blood in
defence of the same cause declared that courage had been
infused into them by their example. More's own parish
priest, Dr. Larke, of Chelsea, was so struck by his glorious
death, says Stapleton, that he himself shortly afterwards
suffered death in the same cause.
Before concluding we must remark that in looking over
extracts made from Mr. Brewer's Calendar of State Papers,
PREFACE. V
from which some abstracts of letters have been taken, we
were intensely surprised by observing the following remark,
concerning one of More's letters to Erasmus.
" More brings forward various instances to shew that the
later Church had departed from the dogmas of the Fathers."
We happened to be in Lancashire when this paragraph
was observed, and reference having been made in the
Calendar to " Jortin's Erasmus," vol. in., page 365, we
at once went to London to examine this book at the British
Museum.
Amongst many Latin letters or rather orations of More's,
for such Jortin calls them, we came at once on the letter
sought for. It extends to more than thirty pages of closely
printed matter, in small type.
A copy was at once made of all that portion of the letter
in which the remarks appeared, and, though personally a
stranger, the writer took the liberty of applying to the Rev.
Father Morris, the learned and accomplished author of
"Troubles of our Catholic Forefathers," begging his opinion
of the justice of Mr. Brewer's summary. He most kindly re-
sponded to her request and the following remarks were
made by him after perusing the passages in question :
" No Catholic has ever thought individual fathers to be
infallible, or would be surprised to find that there were
points on which they differed. This is all that More says,
VI PREFACE.
except in the case of the Immaculate Conception. There
he asks whether there was one of the ancient Saints who
did not believe that Our Blessed Lady was conceived in
sin, if he meant literally what he said, it was of course very
wrong, for it is impossible that the Church should ever
accept as generally as he says, she accepted in his time, a
doctrine, the contrary of which was explicitly taught by the
unanimous voice of the holy Fathers and Doctors. But the
expression may be regarded as an inadvertent exaggeration
in the warmth of argument. If Mr. Brewer attributes to
More the statement that the modern Church had departed
from the dogmas of the Fathers, such a statement would be
an attack by More, not on the Fathers, but on the Catholic
Church of his own time of this there is no trace in the
words you have sent me, unless it be deduced from the
phrase about the Immaculate Conception ; and it would be
very illogical from a particular statement, even if literally
meant, to deduce so general a conclusion.
" All that can be drawn from the marked passages
seems to be that More defended the statement of Erasmus
that some of the holy Fathers, whom he mentions in
very eulogistic terms, have fallen into occasional errors
.lapsos alicubi."
" If the errors were on points of doctrine, not at that
time decided by the Church, I do not see what difficulty
PREFACE. Vll
there is in his having thus defended his friend. The words
cannot, without straining, be taken to mean more than this."
More's best interpreter is More himself, so we will con-
clude with a quotation, from a conversation on this subject
held with Margaret in the Tower.*
The original may be met with in More's works, and is em-
bodied in a very long letter, which we have copied into this
volume, save about a page of which this forms part, and
which would not interest the general reader.
This edition of More's works, we believe, was printed
about the year 1570.
" For an example of some such matters, I have, I trow
told you before now, Megg, that whether Our Blessed Lady
was conceived in sin or not, was sometimes a great question
amongst the learned men of Christendom, and whether it
be yet decided by any general Council, I remember not,
but this I remember well, that notwithstanding that the
feast of her Immaculate Conception was celebrated in the
* It will (adds Father Morris) be regarded as thoroughly satisfactory
by those who know that unity in doctrine is derived from submission to
the decisions of authority. Even saints may differ, and until the
Church has spoken may be expected to differ. These differences in that
which is undefined bring out into the clearest relief the unanimity that
follows the definitions of the Church. This is what Sir Thomas More
says to his daughter, and it is what, as a Catholic, he meant to say to
Erasmus, though he has expressed himself more rhetorically and with
less accuracy in one case than in the other.
Vlll PREFACE.
Churches, or at least in various provinces, yet was holy S.
Bernard, which, as his manifold books written in praise of
Our Lady testifieth, devoutly loved all things tending to her
commendation, yet was that holy and devout man against
that part of her praise, as appeareth by an epistle of his
wherein he argueth against, and approveth not the institution
of that feast, and he was not alone of this mind, but many
other well learned men with him, and right holy men too.
On the other side was the blessed and holy Bishop S.
Anselm, and he not alone neither, but many well learned
and virtuous were with him also. And they, Megg, be now
two holy Saints in Heaven, with many more that were on
either side, for neither side was then bound to change their
opinion for the other, nor for any provincial Council either,,
but after the determination of a general Council, every man
is bound to believe that way and to conform his conscience,
to the determination of the general Council, then all they
that held the contrary before, were for so holding blame-
less."*
* Since the above was written a kind friend has favoured us with the
following remarks I have referred to the passage in the life and
writings of S. Bernard respecting the doctrine of the Immaculate
Conception. He finds fault with the Canons of the Cathedral of Lyons
for introducing a new feast without authority from the Holy See.
He objects in the same letter, to the Immaculate Conception, but not
to the doctrine as defined by Pope Pius the pth, and at the end of his
letter, he says, " that in this as well as in every other question, he
PREFACE. IX
Thus both, Sir Thomas and S. Bernard, were of one
mind, namely, submission to the Roman Church.
As the plan we have adopted of giving the letters in the
same type as the other portion of the work is unusual and
may possibly be censured, we beg to say that we have
preferred rather the convenience of the reader than the
perhaps better appearance produced by the smaller type,
the letters will by many persons, we feel confident, be con-
sidered very interesting. And we are equally sure that
those who are advanced in life, or who are not blessed
with strong sight, will be glad that they are printed in
large type.
"We are indebted to the courtesy and kindness of the
Proprietor of the Illustrated London News, and of the Rev.
R. Davis, Rector of the old parish Church of Chelsea ,for
three of the Illustrations in this volume, and we take this
opportunity of warmly thanking them. The former gave us
his kind permission to copy by autotype process the meet-
ing of Margaret and her father at the Tower Wharf; and the
latter most kindly granted us the loan of Faulkner's Chelsea,
refers to the judgment and authority of the Roman Church, and that he
is ready to retract, should he have advanced anything in opposition to
the judgment which it may pass. Here is the Latin " Romano;
presertim Ecclesice auctoritati atque examini totum hoc sicut et
coetera qua ejusmodi, sunt universa reserve ; ipsius, si quid aliter sapio
paratus judicio emendare." Epist. dxxiv.
X PREFACE.
for engravings of Sir Thomas More's house and Monument.
The portrait of Sir Thomas was copied, by permission of
the Trustees of the British Museum, from Roper's " Life
of More."
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS.
COPIES.
The Right Rev. Dr. Amherst,
Bishop of Northampton ... I
His Grace the Archbishop of
Cashel ... ... ... i
His Grace the Archbishop of
Cloyne ... ... ... i
The Right Rev. Robert Corn-
thwaite, Bishop of Beverley
Rev. Carbery, SJ
Rev. P. Devlin
Rev. J. Duggan
Rev. W. Dunderdale
Rev. C. Dunne
Rev. T. Dykes, S J
Rev. W. Fortune
Rev. Gralty... .. ''
Rev. E. Hannen
Rev. J. Hntton
Rev. J. Jack-on, SJ
Rev. D. O'Keefe
Very Rev. Canon Kershaw . . .
Very Rev. Canon Last
Veiy Rev. Provost Doyle
Rev. Canon Browne ...
Rev. P. Lewis
Rev. P. Lynch
Rev.N. Nenci, D.D
Rev. E. Purbrick, S.J.
Rev D. Ramsey
The Right Rev. Monsignor
Woodlock
The Right Hon. Lord Acton...
The Right Hon. Lady A rundell
Miss Amherst ...
Lady Bedingfeld
Mrs. Beckett
COPIES^
LadyBlount ... ... ... i
Mrs. Edward Blount ... ... 2
Mrs. Stephen Blount ...
Weld Blundell, Esq ...
J. B. Bowden, Esq.
L Bowring, Esq.
Mrs. Brady
N. Browne, Esq. ... ... 2
The Most Noble the Marquis
of Bute 2
A. Butler, Esq. ... ... i
Mrs. Cadman ... ... ... i
The Right Hon. Lady Camoys i
W. Campbell, Esq i
F. Chambers, Esq., M.D. ... I
Chamberlain, Esq ... ... 2
J. Chadwick, Esq I
Lady Chichester ... ... i
Miss Cholmeley ... ... 'J
Mrs. Coghlan ... i
Convent, Cahir j
,, Concepcion, Harbor 6
Clar i
,, Clapham ... ... 6
The Right Hon. Lady Clifford i
The Hon. Mrs. Clifford ... 2
C. Cranstoun, Esq. ... ... 2
James Cuddon, Esq. ... .:. I
Convent, Darlington ... ... i
The Right Hon. Lady Denbigh i
Mrs. De Lisle 4
E. H. Dering, Esq I
K. Digby, Esq. ... ... ... I
Miss De Lys I
C. O. Eaton, Esq i
C. Fairclough, Esq I
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS.
COPIES.
lion. Mrs. Farrall ... ... I
The Right Hon. Lord Gains-
borough i
Right Hon. Lord Gerard ... I
Mrs. Gerard ... ... ... I
Mrs. Gillow 2
The Lady Grey 2
Miss Hales I
Mrs. Haslem ... I
C. Hargitt, Esq 2
The Right Hon. Lady Henries I
The Right Hon. Lord Howard 6
The Lady Holland I
R. Hind, Esq I
Mrs. Hutchins ... ... ... I
Mrs. Jones ... ... ... I
Mrs. Kelly I
R. M. Kelly, Esq 2
The Lady Henry Kerr ... I
Convent, Killarney ... ... I
,, Kilkenny ... ... I
Mrs. Leonard ... ... ... I
The Hon. Mrs. Lewis I
The Hon. C. Lindsey I
The Most Noble the Mar-
chioness of Londonderry I
Miss Lightbound ... ... :<
Mrs. Maher ... ... ... I
T. Mapother, Esq I
Mrs. Mercer ... ... ... I
J. J. Murphy, Esq. ... ... I
McVeigh, Esq i
Mrs. New ... ... ... i
His Grace the Duke of Norfolk 6
Her Grace the Duchess of Nor-
folk 2
Noble, Esq., M.D. ... i
Convent, Northampton ... I
Convent, Norwood I
COPIES.
Mrs. Orme
The Hon. Mrs. O'Ferrall ...
The Right Hon. Lady Petre ...
Miss Peel
The Hon. Mrs. Pereira
W. Prosser, Esq.
A. Purcell, Esq.
Mrs. Purcell
Convent, Plymouth ...
Mrs. Quick, English Convent,
Bruges 6
The Most Noble the Marquis
of Ripon ... ... ... 2
Mrs. Richardson ... ... I
Mrs. Rideout I
Miss Russell i
Mrs. Ryan ... ... ... I
Convent, Roehampton ... I
Mrs. Salvin ... ... ... i
Lady Smythe ... ... ... I
A. Shee, Esq i
Superioress, St. Margaret's,
Edinburgh ... ... I
Colonel Towneley ... ... 2
Topham, Esq. ... ... I
Mrs. Tozer ,
Sir F. Turville
T. H. Ware, Esq
Mrs. Watkins
Mrs. C. Weld
i Miss Wilson ... ...
Woolett, Esq., M.D.
j Mrs. Worswick ...
Convent, Wolverhampton
Rev. S. Wells "...
Lord F. G. Osborne
H. Whitgreave, Esq.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE.
I. THE BIRTH AND PARENTAGE OF SIR THOMAS MORE i
II. How SIR THOMAS WOOED HIS FIRST WIFE ... 19
III. IN FAVOUR AT COURT 25
IV. THE HOME AT CHELSEA 33
V. MOKE AND HIS FRIENDS 49
VI. SIR THOMAS MORE AS AMBASSADOR AND STATESMAN 75
VII. FRIENDS AT HOME AND ABROAD 99
VIII. THE MEN OF THE NEW LEARNING 118
IX. THE KING'S DIVORCE ... 127
X. SIR THOMAS MORE AS CHANCELLOR 145
XI. GIVING UP THE GREAT SEAL 183
XII. QUEEN ANNE BOLEYN 192
XIII. MORE AND FISHER 199
XIV. THE FITTING MATTER ... . .*. ' ' ...217
XV. THE TOWER ... 225
XVI. LADY ALDINGTON'S LETTER 239
XVII. SIR THOMAS MORE AND DR. WILSON 260
XVIII. BEFORE THE COUNCIL 273
XIX. 'TWIXT HEAVEN AND EARTH 286
XX. LOOKING FOR THE END 295
XXI. ARRAIGNED AND CONDEMNED 311
XXII. FATHER AND DAUGHTER 326
XXIII. MARGARET ROPER 34i
XXIV. THE KING 346
XXV. How SIR THOMAS MORE WAS MOURNED 352
XXVI. CHELSEA, OR, In Mcmoriam 357
XXVII. CONCLUSION 362
LIFE AND LETTERS
OF
SIR THOMAS MORE
CHAPTER I.
THE BIRTH AND PARENTAGE OF SIR THOMAS MORE.
IN the year 1480, towards the close of the reign of our
IVth Edward, in the, at that time, fashionable locality of
Milk Street, in the Chepe, now Cheapside, a child was
born, who, by the sterling virtues of his after life, diffused
happiness and peace around him, and whose name will be
held in reverent love and benediction as long as time itself
shall endure by all who can appreciate that nobleness of
mind, that generous unselfishness of spirit which shrinks
from no earthly sacrifice even to the rendering up dear life
itself, and considereth loss as gain, so that the path of duty
be rigorously followed.
Gifted with talents of the highest order, perceptible ta
those around him even in the early days of childhood, the
name of the wise and just Sir Thomas More occupies a
page in the history of his country, which will be read with
interest and edification as long as the English language
tself shall last
2 The Birth and Parentage of
" It cannot have escaped the observation of persons
interested in the life of this great and good man, that his
biographers are almost silent as to the family from which he
sprung; they take us no farther back than Sir Thomas's
father, Sir John More, and he was no less a person than
one of the superior judges, holding that dignity too for more
than twelve years, and not dying till after his son had
reached the highest legal position in the kingdom.
That Roper is silent cannot be attributed to ignorance,
for he was not only the son-in-law of Sir Thomas, but was
on terms of most affectionate intimacy with him, and it is
hard to ascribe his silence to other than a delicate disincli-
nation to expose what to weak minds he might fear would
derogate from the respect with which the Chancellor was
regarded. The great-grandson of Sir Thomas, now clearly
proved by Mr. Hunter's investigations to be Cresacre More,
endeavours to show that they were of gentle descent. He
cites Sir Thomas's epitaph, commencing thus : " Thomas
More, born of no noble family, but of an honest stock"; but
the word nobilis does not occur in the original, the passage
stands as follows :
"Thomae MoruS, urbe Londinensi familia non celebri
sed honesta natus," words simple enough, and which indi-
cate that he could have his pedigree little beyond his
father.
Cresacre More says Judge More bore arms from his
birth, having his coat quartered, meaning, that in conse-
quence of the marriage of one of his ancestors with the
heiress of a family entitled to coat armour, he quartered the
arms of that family with his own; on the monument at
Chelsea, it is true, the arms of Sir Thomas are quartered,
Sir Thomas More. 3
but the quartering may have belonged to Sir Thomas's
mother.
The arms of Sir John, as depicted by Dugdale, from the
window of the Refectory in Serjeant's Inn, Fleet Street,
contain no quartering, and none of the pedigrees in
Herald's College begin with an earlier name than that of
Sir John, except some of a later date, which carry up the
family, but without name or place, to an assumed grand-
father.. These, and the pedigree in the Ashmole Library,
mentioned by Mr. Hunter, are evidently derived from Sir
John's Will, in which he speaks of his grandmother, Joanna,
daughter of John Leycester.
Looking then at the modest description given by Sir
Thomas More himself, the total silence of his son-in-law,
and the absence of all evidence to the contrary, it seems im-
possible to come to any other conclusion than that the family
was an obscure one. Recent investigation has confirmed
this opinion, but so far from detracting in any degree from
the merit of the chancellor or the judge, it must be con-
sidered as speaking loudly to their own credit, as also that
of those to whom they owed their elevation, shewing, that
even in those days, virtue and learning met their due reward,
and contradicting the idea that none but rich men's sons
were admitted members of the Inns of Court.
Contradictory accounts are given of the Inns of Court
to which John More belonged, of the bench on which he
sat, and of the age at which he died.
As to the Inns of Court to which he belonged, Chauncey,
in his History of Hertfordshire (p. 531) says, that he studied
the law and was Reader at Lincoln's Inn ; and Dugdale, in
his list of Readers at the Middle Temple names John More
4 The Birth and Parentage of
as one of them, naming him afterwards as one of the Judges
of Common Pleas. If we examine the dates and facts we
shall have a doubt whether the Judge can be identified
with either.
Taking them in the order of date, John More of Lin-
coln's Inn, was Autumn Readerin 5th Henry VIL, 1489, and
Lent Reader in 1495. If this was the Judge, his elevation
to the bench would be twenty-nine years after his first
reading, an interval so great as to render the supposition
that the Reader and the Judge were the same person highly
improbable.
The name of More occurs in the Black Book, folio 1376,
as early as 4th Edward IV., when a John More was raised
from the office of butler to that of steward or senescha^
employed to collect the dues and keep the accounts, and
in Michaelmas Term 1470, 49, (being the year of that
king's temporary restoration) was admitted a member of
the society, in reward for having conducted himself faith-
fully in the office of butler and steward, which the entry
declares he had long filled, so that it may be well conceived
at the date of his admission he was at least forty years
of age.
He would then be progressively called to the bar, and
raised to the bench, and in due time be appointed a Reader,
and there can be no doubt that he was the Reader in 1489,
at which time he would be about 59 years old ; but were he-
the Judge who was appointed in 1518, he would have been
no less than 88 years old.
As to the claims of the Middle Temple, Sir John More
of that Society, was Autumn Reader there in 1505, and Lent
Reader in 1512, dates which seems to agree with the year
Sir Tfwmas More. 5
in which John More became a Judge, but there are two
facts which exclude the idea that the Judge could have
been the reader of the Middle Temple, this Judge was called
to the degree of the coif in 1503, and on that being
assumed, it is well known the new serjeant leaves his
original society and joins that of the judges and Serjeants,
and how could John More, made serjeant in 1503, be called
on to read in the society he had left in 1512, after he had
entered into another body?
It is difficult then to believe that either of them was the
future judge. Who then was he ?
His biographers place him at Lincoln's Inn, and Roper
records that, if the father and son met together at readings
in Lincoln's Inn, the latter, though Chancellor, would offer
in argument the pre-eminence to his father.
In the records of that Society, besides the former named
John More, originally the butler, and then raised from the
stewardship to be first a member and afterwards a Reader of
the Society, another John More is to be found with the
addition of "junior" to his name, who in 1482 (twelve years
after the first John More had been admitted a member) is
mentioned as pincerna, or butler. It cannot be doubted
that this John More was son of the first, holding as he did
the same office which he had formerly filled. Fourteen
years afterwards, on February 12, 1496, Thomas More, the
chancellor, was admitted into the society, the entry
describing him as the son of John More, without designa-
ting who John More was, leading to the inference that he
was some person so well known as not to need description.
That he was a member of the same society is especially
apparent by the entry further stating that Thomas is par-
6 The Birth and Parentage of
doned four vacations at the instance of John More, his
father.
His father must have been either John More, the former
steward, or John More, the butler; for no other appears
on the books at that time.
Presuming that the first was the father of Thomas and
the father also of John More, junior, he would then have
two sons, which would contradict the statements of all the
biographers. If John More, junior, is excluded, then the
birth of Sir Thomas, which is invariably fixed about 1480,
must have been at a very late period of his father's life,
the fact being, on the contrary, that he was the son of the
first of three wives with whom his father was united. Sir
Thomas therefore, being admitted in 1496, when only sixteen,
could not have been the son of the elder More ; the younger
John must, however, have been twenty-eight or thirty in
1482, and if he was the Chancellor's father, it may be well
conceived that, as he married early in life, he had a son
two years of age, who, in 1496, would be ready to be
admitted a member of the house, and to fix this parentage
it only remains to account for John More, junior, being
placed in such a position as afterwards to assume the coif
and obtain a seat on the judicial bench.
John More, the elder, a member in 1470, must have been
called to the bar long before 1482, when the younger is
mentioned as butler, and as he was made Reader seven years
afterwards, it is clear he was gaining an ascendancy in the
Inn, and must previously have become a bencher, and with
the natural feeling that he should wish his son to enjoy
his own advantages, it seems almost a necessary step to his
being admitted to the bench, that his son should be re-
Sir Thomas More. 7
moved from a menial office. That no entry of his son's
admission has been found may be accounted for by the
carelessness with which the books were then kept, and the
want of a regular list of admissions, that of Sir Thomas
himself being inserted in a page devoted to other matters.
Every Reader had, too, a special privilege of admitting any
person he pleased into the Society,* so that no doubt can
exist but that John More, junior, was admitted either before
or at the time when his father became one of the Governors,
or a Reader of the house ; and the interval between 1482
and 1503, when John More, the judge, was called serjeant,
is amply sufficient for all the successive gradations.
A careful comparison of facts and dates leads to the only
reasonable conclusion that John More, first butler, then
steward, and finally the reader of Lincoln's Inn, was the
Chancellor's grandfather, and that his son was the Chan-
cellor's father, and afterwards the Judge. Not only does
this descent suit precisely the ^ Non celcbri sed honesta
natus" in Sir Thomas's epitaph, but it explains the silence
of his biographers, and accounts for the Judge and the
Chancellor attending the readings of a Society with which
they had been so closely connected.
Such an investigation would be valueless if applied to an
ordinary person, but it acquires a peculiar interest when
a man of the highest eminence is the subject of enquiry, and
who, whether he be lawyer, philosopher, or historian, will
deny that title to Sir Thomas More ? Moreover, the fact is
interesting, as it proves that, at a time when the barriers
between the different grades of society were far more diffi-
cult to pass than in the present day, such talent united to
* Dugdale's Orig., 248.
8 The Birth and Parentage of
integrity and worth, could overcome all the prejudices in
favour of high descent which were the results of the feudal
system.
Of the date of Sir John's elevation to the bench we have
no precise information, but the uncertainty does not touch
the point under discussion. He died about November, 1530,
and was buried in the church of S. Lawrence in the Old Jewry.
His great-grandson describes him before his death as being
4< near ninety years old," an idea founded on the supposition
that he was the Lincoln's Inn Reader of 1489. This extreme
old age all subsequent writers have adopted, without reflect-
ing that in that case he would have been seventy-eight
when raised to the bench, a time of life at which it is
scarcely possible that any one would be selected for the
first time to exercise judicial functions.*
On the family pictures preserved at Burford Priory and
at Nostell Priory, painted in 1530, just before Sir John's
death, he is described as aged seventy-six on one, and on
the other seventy-seven, t
It is to be supposed that the old Judge was famous for a
facetious turn of mind, which he transmitted to his son, if
we credit the only saying which has come down to pos-
terity, but let us hope he intended it rather as a compli-
ment to the good qualities of the sex, three of whom he had
chosen successively as partners, than a satire on women
collectively.
He used to compare the multitude of women who are to
be chosen for wives unto a bag full of snakes having amongst
them a single eel : " Now, if a man should put his hand into
* Foss's Lives of the Judges,
f See Bruce's Archaeologia, xxxv., p. 26.
Sir Thomas More. 9
the bag he might chance to light on the eel, but it is a
hundred to one he shall be stung by a snake."
The maiden name of the mother of Sir Thomas was
Handcombe, she was born in Haliwell in Bedfordshire, and
died shortly after his birth, having previously become the
mother of two daughters, one called Jane, who afterwards
became the wife of one Richard Stafferton, and Elizabeth,
wife to John Rastell, who was the mother of the future
Judge Rastell.
It is said that the mother of Sir Thomas, the night of her
marriage, beheld in her sleep, as it were engraven on her
wedding ring, the number and faces of the children she was
to have, one of which shone most brightly, by which Sir
Thomas's fame and sanctity were supposed to be foreshown.
Also, say the old writers, God designed to show how dear
this babe was unto him, for, .one day, his nurse with the
child in her arms was riding over a piece of water, the horse
stepping beyond its depth, put both she and her burthen in
danger, and with the hope of saving the child, she flung it
from her arms over a hedge into a field, and fortunately
escaping herself, when she went in search of the babe
she found him smiling and unhurt, so that it was said of
him, "Angels shall bear thee up, lest perchance thou htt
thy joot against a stone"
The greatest care was taken by the Judge with respect to
the education of this child of promise, and as soon as his
still tender age would permit, he was placed by him in St.
Antony's Free Schcol. This school was instituted in
Threadneedie Street, in the parish of S. Benet Finck, and
was one of the four grammar schools founded by Henry V.,
a great patron of learning, in the twenty-fourth year of his
io The Birth and Parentage of
reign. In the time of Sir Thomas More this school was
the most celebrated in London. I myself, in my youth,
says Stowe, have yearly seen on the eve of 8. Bartholomew
the Apostle, the scholars of divers grammar schools repair
unto the churchyard of St. Bartholomew, or the Priory in
Smithfield, where, upon a bank, boarded about, under a
tree, some one scholar hath stepped up, and there hath
opposed and answered, till he were by some better scholar
overcome and put down, and then the overcomer taking
the place did like as the first, and in the end the best
opposers and answerers had rewards, which I observed not,
but it made good schoolmasters and also good scholars
diligently against such times to prepare themselves for the
obtaining of that garland. I remember there repaired to
these exercises, amongst others, the masters and scholars of
the Free Schools of St. Paul's in London, of St. Peter's at
Westminster, of Sir Thomas Aeon's Hospital, and of St.
Antony's Hospital, whereof the last named commonly pre-
sented the best scholars, and had the prize in those days.*
From this school various men of great reputation sprung,
Sir Thomas More, Nicolas Heath, Archbishop of Canter-
bury and Lord Chancellor, and Archbishop Whitgift. It
had fallen to decay in the time of Stowe and had come to
nothing.
Not long had young More been at this school before he
outstripped his companions in wit, talent, and application,
making rapid advances in the Latin tongue. When he had
reached his fifteenth year, his father, according to the custom
of the times, placed him as page in the family of Cardinal
Morton, then Archbishop of Canterbury, and Chancellor
* Stowe iL, p. 75.
Sir Thomas More. n
under Henry VII. Here, along with some youths of the
first families in England, young More waited at table, his
learning and all manly exercises being well attended to
meanwhile.
It was not long before the great talent and engaging
parts of the youth under his care, drew upon him the
notice of his master, who, though he had past the eightieth
year of his age, and filled a post of the highest dignity in
the realm, was not too dignified or stately to encourage the
innocent amusement of his page, or to discern the extra-
ordinary merit of the boy whose future fame he foretold'
for the learned prelate often proved his wit, having at
Christmas time entertainments for the recreation of his
household, when the youth of a sudden would step in
amongst the players, and never having studied the matter
before, would invent a part for himself, so full of wit and
jest that he would draw off the attention from the other
players. The Cardinal at length became much attached
to him, and not unfrequently said to those who dined with
him, This child here waiting at the table, whosoever shall live
to see it, will prove a marvellous rare man.
The wise prelate, however, speedily saw that, in his house,
amidst the distractions of public business, young More could
not profit to the extent he desired, and placed him in Can-
terbury College, at Oxford, now part of Christ Church, where
he was instructed in Greek, a language not very commonly
taught or learned at that time in England, and which Sir
Thomas learned of Linacre, the famous physician. The
taste for classical study was then reviving, and Oxford was
the favoured spot in which the indefatigable young student
I2 The Birth and Parentage of
contracted intimacies which were to end only with his
own life.
Beneath the classic shades of his beloved university young
More became acquainted with Wolsey, then bursar of Mag-
dalen College, and the first classical scholar there, already
opening his mouth in Latin disputations with Grocyn,
Linacre, and Warham. He had commenced building his
matchless tower, still one of the noblest monuments as a
gem of architecture, amidst the groans of the Trojans, for so
those were called who hated the language of Homer, and
ridiculed every novelty.
His intercourse with the great scholar, or rather master,
Erasmus, of Rotterdam, began about this time, as also with
the young and enthusiastic student More, and the two
former, truth obliges us to acknowledge, wasted their wit in
ridiculing monks who were far above them in moral worth,
or at pious foundations too good for their respective coun-
tries, and consequently about to be overthrown. Erasmus
had proved himself no saint when he dwelt in his own
monastery in Holland, whilst both he and Wolsey forgot
that, amidst the tumults of the middle ages, their most
admired authors would have perished had not the painstaking
inmates of the cloister preserved literature from the rough
grasp of the Huns and Goths, the Lombards and Vandals,
or the ferocious Danes. Here it was, too, that More became
acquainted with Colet, his future director. He was born of
wealthy parents resident in London his father had been
twice Lord Mayor his mother had had eleven sons and
eleven daughters, of whom Colet was the eldest, and out-
lived them all. He was of tall and handsome person. He
had studied the scholastic philosophy, icero, Plato, and
Sir Thomas More. 13
Plotinus, had visited France and Italy, and had diligently
studied the Fathers, especially S. Augustine, and 'was an
earnest reader of law and English poetry. On returning
from Italy he lectured on S. Paul's Epistles, at Oxford, when
he was of the age of thirty. Erasmus was of the same age,
within a few months, when the two became acquainted.
He made great advances in theology, though he took no
degree, and was invited to London by Henry VII, made
Dean of S. Paul's, became a great preacher, and distinguished
himself by his frugality and abstinence.*
Dean Colet was, too, a man of earnest and practical piety,
who made it his study to awaken a religious spirit in those
around him. It was he who founded the Free School of
S. Paul's, dedicating it to the Infant Jesus, and Thomas
More became both his friend and penitent.
Grocyn was professor, or public teacher of Greek at Oxford,
about the time Erasmus was there, afterwards becoming
Master of the College of Maidstone, in Kent. Thomas
Linacre lived a long while at Oxford, teaching Greek also.
He founded a lecture in S. John's College, as he had founded
two previously at Merton College, Oxford, and these three
men became united with More in the closest bonds of
friendship.
Persevering to the last degree, More fixed his attention
solely on his studies, and, as his father restricted him very
much with regard to pocket-money, scarcely, indeed, giving
him enough to pay for the mending of his wearing apparel,
he was deprived of one great incentive to the indulgence of
his passions, had he been so minded, and the course his
father had adopted More not unfrequently praised when he
* Er. Epis.
I4 The Birth and Parentage of
reached the years of manhood. It is to be observed, how-
ever, with reference to this strictness on the part of the old
Judge, that, with some natures, it would have had the con-
trary effect, and this spirit would have exhibited itself before
emancipation from college rules set the student free ; but it
was not with More as with many others, for whilst his dis-
position was full of vivacity and cheerfulness, a firm and
deep sentiment of religion prevented him from running riot
with many of those around him. He was nearly twenty
when he applied himself to the study of the law at Lincoln's
Inn, and whilst his countenance was the index of a happy
cheerful disposition, and a smile was ever on his lip, he was
practising in secret many an austerity of which the world
around him knew nothing, and had begun to lead that
" mortified life " which, with small mitigation, he continued
unto the day of his death, imitating austerities practised by
men who have forsaken the world, rather than those who,
in his age as in these our own days, seek to make its paths
most pleasant. He then began to wear a shirt of hair next
his skin, which he never wholly laid aside, even in the days
of his chancellorship.
On Fridays and fasting days he used the discipline. He
spent much time in fasting and watching, often lying on the
bare ground with a log of wood for a pillow, allowing himself
but four or five hours for sleep, treating his body hardly lest
the flesh should grow rebellious against the spirit, and using
severity to himself in this world, so that he might the better
tread the narrow path which leadeth to life eternal.
He was wont to say that his body was to be used like an
ass, with strokes and hard fare, lest provender might prick
Sir Thomas More. 15
it, and so bring his soul, like a headstrong jade, into the
bottomless pit of hell.
Undecided as to whether he should not forsake the world,
and devote himself wholly to God in the religious state,
More, together with his faithful friend Lily, who aspired to
the priesthood, fixed his abode near the Charter-house, and
dwelt for four years amongst the Carthusians, frequenting all
their spiritual exercises, but noc binding himself by irre-
vocable vows.
The relaxed state of some few of the religious houses in
England, may have in part deterred him from following this
design, but there is no doubt that it became clear to his
own mind, and that of his director, that God called him to
serve Him in the busy scenes of active life, and not in the
retirement of the cloister, holy as were the lives of the great
majority of their inmates. And forth to the world he came,
to grace and adorn it with his many virtues, and to set forth
to his own and succeeding generations the pattern of a perfect
Christian household for was not the household of Sir
Thomas More typical of all that is holy and beautiful in
domestic life ?
I have said Dean Colet was his spiritual director. The
following letter will testify to the respect, nay, the love, with
which he regarded him :*
"As I was walking lately in Cheapside, and busying
myself about other men's causes, I met by chance your
servant, at whose first encounter I was much rejoiced, both
because he has always been very dear to me, and especially
because, I thought he had not come to London without
yourself. But when I found from him that you had not
returned, nor minded to do so for a long space of time, my
r 6 The Birth and Parentage of
great joy was turned into sadness, for what could happen
worse for me than to be deprived of your moral conversa-
tions, whose counsels I was wont to enjoy, with whose fami-
liarity I have been accustomed to be recreated, by whose
sermons I have been excited to devotion, by whose life and
example I have been much amended in my own ; finally,
in whose very countenance I have settled my trust and con-
fidence of my progress in virtue. Wherefore, as I found
myself so strengthened by these helps, so do I see myself
weakened and brought low when deprived of them. For
having by following your footsteps almost escaped from hell,
so now, like another Eurydtce, but in a contrary manner, for
she was left there, because Orpheus looked back upon her,
but I fall again by a fatal necessity, for ' that you cast not
your eye upon me.'
" And I pray you what is there in this city that doth move
any man to live well, and not rather by a thousand devices
swallow him up in wickedness who would endeavour to
ascend the steep hill of virtue. Wheresoever one cometh,
what find we but feigned love, and the horrid poison of
flattery in one place, cruel hatreds in another, pestiferous
and hateful suits and quarrels.
" Wheresoever we cast our eyes what do we see but vic-
tualling houses, fishmongers, butchers, cooks, pudding-
makers, and fowlers, who minister to our bodies, and set.
forward ' the service of the world and the flesh.' Yea, the
houses themselves, bereave us of part of a sight of heaven,
nor do they suffer us to look freely towards it, so that our
horizontal circle is wholly cut short by the height of con-
tinued buildings. For which I pardon you the more easily
that you do delight to remain still in the country, for you
Sir Thomas More. 17
find there the society of plain souls void of the craft where-
with citizens do most abound. Wheresoever you look, the
earth yieldeth you a pleasant prospect, the sweetness of the
air refreshes you, the very bounds of the heavens delight
you, you find nothing but the bounteous gifts of nature, and
saint-like tokens of innocence. And yet I would not have
you so carried away with these delights, that you should be
stayed from hastening hither ; for, if the inconvenience of
the city pesters you, yet your parish of Stepney, of which
you should have great care, may afford you pleasure, like to
that which you now enjoy, from whence you may quickly
return to London as into your Inn, and may find great store
of merit
" In the country men are commonly more innocent and
not laden with any great offence, and any physician may
administer medicine unto them, but as for citizens, both
because they are a multitude, and also for their inveterate
manner of sinning, none can help them but he that is
skilful.
" There come into the pulpit at S. Paul's divers men that
promise to cure the diseases of others, but their lives do so
jar with their sayings, that when they have preached a
goodly process, they rather provoke to anger than assuage
a sore, for they cannot persuade men they are fit to cure
others when themselves, God wot, are most sick and crazy,
which causes them that have uncured sores not to be
touched or lanced by such ignorant physicians. But if one
be courted by learned men most fit to cure in whom the
sick man hath greatest hope, who doubteth then that you
alone are most fit to cure their maladies, whom every one
is willing to suffer to touch their wounds, and whose con-
c
1 8 The Birth and Parentage of Sir Thomas More.
fidence you have sufficiently tried, and the desire every one
hath that you may speedily return manifests the cause more
evidently.
" Return then, dear Colet, at least for Stepney's sake, which
mourneth your absence as a child does for its mother, or
else for London's sake, it is your native place, of which
you can have no less regard than of your own parents.
" Finally, though this be the least motive, return for my
sake, who have wholly dedicated myself to your direction,
and do most earnestly desire your return. In the mean-
while I pass my time with Grocyn, Linacre, and Lily, the
first being, as you know, the director of my life in your
absence, the second the master of my studies, the third my
most dear companion. Farewell, and see you love me as
you have done hitherto.
"London, 21 October."
CHAPTER II.
How SIR THOMAS MORE WOOED HIS FIRST WIFE.
SHORTLY after More had elected to remain in the world, he
decided on entering the state of matrimony, and the manner
in which his decision was made was certainly peculiar and
worthy of himself. He had become acquainted with a Mr.
Colt, of New Hall, in Essex, at whose bouse he was a
frequent visitor.
This gentleman had three daughters, who were all of
marriageable age, they were young gentlewomen of some
pretensions to personal beauty, and in whose manners there
was nothing light or frivolous.
On the second of these girls, the then young lawyer fixed
his affections, the choice of either of his daughters, having
been previously offered to him by Mr. Colt, who doubtless
anticipated the probable result of More's visits.
It was a question of the old old tale, and More, whose
fancy was more particularly attracted by the second
daughter, was on the point of asking her of her father in
marriage, when he found his sympathies were becoming
enlisted in behalf of the elder sister.
The second was undoubtedly the fairest and most highly
favoured by nature's gifts, and yet and here let us give the
biographer's own words, " he considered it would be both
great grief and some shame to see her younger sister pre-
ferred before her in marriage, and he then of a certain pitie
framed his mind to her, and soon after married her."* Thus
* More's Life of More.
20 How Sir Thomas More
out of pity and sympathy did Jane Colt become Mistress
More.
He then sought to mould her character to his liking, for
she was but young in years, and also had her education
completed, for in those days the education of the daughter
of a country squire was a very imperfect affair.
After his marriage he removed to Bucklersbury, still pro-
secuting his studies at Lincoln's Inn with indefatigable
ardour, remaining there until he was called to the
Bench.
In the course of a few years Mistress More presented him
with four children, three daughters, the eldest of whom
became the incomparable Margaret Roper, and one son,
whom he named John, after his father, the Judge.
Probably his long residence amongst the Carthusians had
much to do with the exactitude and regularity with which
the subsequent days of More's busy and toiling life were
passed. With him procrastination, " that thief of time," was
known but by name, each hour of the day, so full in the
world's work, as well as in preparation for that which is to
come, being devoted to its own particular duty.
The day never dawned, unless sickness prevented it, which
did not witness the presence of More at the holy sacrifice of
the Mass, and it was doubtless owing to this careful offering
of the day's first fruits to his God which shed so much peace
over the life of this great and good man. So strictly, indeed,
did he observe this custom, that on one occasion, when he
was high in favour with the king, it is said that a messenger
being sent to him while Mass was being offered up, he would
not leave, though the message was twice repeated, until Mass
was wholly finished, and when requested to hasten quickly
Wooed his First Wife. ,21
for that the king awaited his coming, he calmly replied that
he must first perform his duty to a King who was above all
earthly princes.
At this time he was only working his way up to the future
eminence he so deservedly enjoyed, and a sore trial it must
have been to a man so careful of the interests of his children,
and so affectionate a father, when they were deprived by
death of their mother's care.
We may not then blame him as soon forgetting the young
wife to whom sympathy had led him to offer his hand, and
with whom he appears to have led, if but a short, still a
happy wedded life, because, in little better than two years,
he again entered the married state.
However devoted and affectionate a man may be to his
children, and it is as a father that we love to contemplate
the character of Sir Thomas More, he never can supply the
void to his children occasioned by a mother's death. The
busy career of a rising barrister's life led him much from
home, and he wisely decided on marrying again for the sake
of these motherless little ones.
Love, however, could have had no place in his heart when
he espoused the widow, Alice Middleton. She was well
advanced in life, plain and hard of feature, with small earthly
substance. She had, too, an only daughter, and was grasping
and .worldly in her disposition. Something, too, was there
about this second wooing almost as whimsical as about the
first, for, as the story goes, More was set to woo Mistress
Middleton for a friend, not for himself; but the widow
promptly replied :
" Your wooing will speed better if you do it on your own
account, Mr. More ; go, tell your friend what I have said."
22
How Sir Thomas More
The story further goes, that More referred it to his friend,
who, as he could not get the lady for himself, was well
pleased More should become her husband, an event that
speedily happened.
Careful and kind, however, she proved to his motherless
children ; and he, on his part, was a loving father to a child
of hers by her first husband. Nevertheless, Mistress More
was a downright shrew, and one would think that, but for
the good quality we have named, More must often have
regretted that he married her.
More then became under-sherirT, an office at that time
judicial, and of much importance. His court, we find by a
letter written by Erasmus to Hutton, which the reader will
peruse when he comes to the description of More's life in
his Chelsea home, sat every Thursday, and it testifies to the
fact that no judge gave more righteous decisions, often
remitting the fines to which he was entitled by the suitor,
and the way he conducted himself in this new office endeared
him extremely to his fellow-citizens.
A new life, however, shaped itself before More. After an
intermission of seven years, Henry VII, called a new par-
liament, in order to obtain a subsidy of three-fifteenths on
the occasion of the marriage of his eldest daughter, the Lady
Margaret, with James, king of Scotland. More, whose
abilities and talents had speedily won for him the admiration
of his fellow-citizens, was returned in parliament, " for many
had now taken notice of his sufficiency," and he is recorded
as the first member who become famous as an orator, and
who,' whilst others held their peace, not daring to resist,
became a successful leader of the opposition, and incurred
the enmity of the court, for his arguments were so powerful
Wooed his First Wife. 23
why these exactions should not be granted, that a denial was
returned to the king's request,* and Mr. Tyler, a gentleman
of his privy chamber, hastening from the house, told his
majesty that it was owing to a " beardless boy,"t that his
expectations were disappointed. According to Tudor deal-
ings with refractory subjects More might have been com-
mitted to the Tower for the offence, but Henry always had
a keen eye to the state of his exchequer, and as More,
" nothing having, nothing could lose," his grace devised a
causeless quarrel with the eminent Sir John More, his unof-
fending old father, and placed him in the Tower till he had
paid a fine of a hundred pounds.
The trouble this caused to the mind of his son may be
easily conceived, and he at once sought out Dr. Fox, Bishop
of Winchester, one of the Privy Council \ the Bishop affect-
ing great kindness promised him that if he would follow his
advice he would get him restored to the king's favour;
meaning, as it was afterwards thought, that he should con-
fess his offences against the king, but on leaving the Bishop,
More chanced to meet an intimate friend, Dr. Whitford,
the Bishop's chaplain, whose advice he also asked.
Whitford instantly conjured him not to follow the Bishop's
counsel, and thus serve the king's purpose, adding, "Why,
my Lord, to please the king would not stick to agree to his
own father's death." It is stated as a proof that More did
wisely in not making any confession that he had acted
* Henry was entitled by the feudal customs to ask for aid to make
his eldest son a knight, and to marry his eldest daughter. It wai-, how-
ever, so contrived that he might have the merit of moderation whilst he
imposed the burden. Lingard.
f Life of More, by his Great-grandson.
24 How Sir Thomas More Wooed his First Wife.
wrongly, that when Dudley and Empson, for their shameful
exactions, were led to execution in the next reign, that the
former meeting with More, said to him
" Oh, Mr. More, God was your good friend, that you did
not ask the king's forgiveness as many would have done,
for if you had done so, perhaps you should have been in
the like case with us now."
Henry VII. continued to watch the movements of the
young patriot, so that at the first opportunity he might
succeed in wreaking his vengeance against him, and justly
fearing that in the end some pretext would be devised for
doing so, More by degrees almost withdrew from his practice
at the bar,* and passed his time in the study of the French
language, in learning the viol, and perfecting himself in
most of the liberal sciences, geometry, and astronomy, and
he strove also to become a perfect historian.
He even meditated leaving England, but such a step
was rendered unnecessary, for the death of Henry VII.
preserved him for the service of his country.
*It appears from the Statute Book and the Parliament Roll, that
this Parliament met in January, 1504, so More must then have been
twenty-four years old, the age of William Pitt when Prime Minister.
His early biographers say he was twenty-one. CAMPBELL.
CHAPTER III.
IN FAVOUR AT COURT.
HANDSOME in person, generous in disposition, skilled in
every martial and fashionable exercise, affable to those around
him, and eminently religious, such was Henry VIII. on his
accession to the throne, and it is perhaps not surprising that
the usually far-seeing Thomas More regarded the young king
with the same eyes as the bulk of the nation, who at that
time looked forward to a long and prosperous reign.
He at once returned to the duties of his profession, dis-
charging them with even more zest than formerly, steadily
rose to eminence, and began to gain yearly, without " any
grudge of his conscience," as he afterwards told Roper,
^400 a-year. This sum, says Lord Campbell, considering
the value of money at that time, and the relative profits of
the bar, indicate as high a station as ^10,000 at the present
day.*
With Wolsey, the prime favourite, now rising rapidly to
greatness, the reader will remember that More had become
acquainted in his early days at Oxford, when he was the boy
student, and Wolsey bursar.
Amidst his natural love of pleasure, in the early portion
* Roper says that he was twice choen agent to the Still Yard Mer-
chants, or Steel Yard. They were chiefly of Germany, and enjoyed
privileges in London by charters from our kings. They were great
importers of corn. Htmter's Edition of Moris Life of More,
2 6 In favour at Court.
of his reign, Henry not unfrequently occupied himself with
matters of state, instead of being wholly absorbed in the
amusements of the court *
Wolsey only occupied the first place in the royal favour,
and at once fell in with the young king's wish to summon
More to court. It was with difficulty, however, that he could
be prevailed upon to accept the dangerous honour. His
present career was yet more honourable, nay, it was more
lucrative, and it was not without an inward misgiving and
apprehension of future trouble, that he finally consented, and
exchanged the peaceful quietude of his beloved home and
the daily round of his law duties, for the life of a courtier
and a statesman.
Some little time previous, More's services had been engaged
in a suit of which a circumstantial account has been handed
down to us. A ship belonging to the Pope had been seized
at Southampton, and was forfeited to the Crown for a breach
of the Law of Nations. The Pope's Nuncio at the Court
of London claimed restitution, and retained More's services
as counsel. The hearing was held in the Star Chamber
before the Chief Justices, the Lord Treasurer, and other
officers of State. To plead against the Crown must have
been an onerous undertaking, but More exerted himself to
the utmost, argued with precision and clearness, brought
all his own learning to bear as well as availing himself of
* Henry saw Wolsey's talent for business, and constantly flattered
him with thanks, but in everything governed for himself. Wolsey
neither framed a bill for parliament, nor a despatch for a foreign court,
which was not submitted to Henry, and never acted, even in domestic
politics, till he had taken his pleasure. Sir H. Ellis' s Original Letters,
p. 193, vol I.
In Favour at Court. 27
the authorities furnished by his client, and made such an
impression by his speech in behalf of his Holiness, that
restitution was decreed.
The King himself was present during the hearing of this
cause celebre^ and to his credit, instead of showing mortifica-
tion at the loss of his prize, he united with others in praising
More for his commendable demeanour, and for no entreaty,
says Roper, would he give up his services at Court.
How well did Henry's reign promise in the outset. He
undoubtedly was at that time ever ready to patronise merit,
his purse was open to the needy, or to reward and encourage
literature, and small -wonder is it that his subjects were
dazzled by the brilliant promise, and gave to him credit
for more virtue than he really possessed.
In the year 1514, More left the bar, was knighted by the
King, made Master of the Requests, and sworn of the
Privy Council.
Amidst the public and private duties that now thronged
thickly upon him, More yet found leisure for the composi-
tion of works which in his own day acquired the highest
celebrity.
The shafts of envy, however, did not pass him by, his
epigrams, full of pleasant and sparkling wit for which he was
famous throughout, aroused the malignity of Brixius or La
Brie, as his contemporary Rabelais calls him.*
In 1513, Brixius composed a poem which he called
Chordigera, where, in three hundred hexameter verses, he
described a battle fought that year on 8. Laurence's day
by a French ship La Cordeliere, and an English ship called
The Regent.
* Sam Knight's Erasmus.
2 8 In Favour at Court.
More, who at that time had not risen to as high a position
as he filled later, composed several epigrams in derision of
this poem, and Brixius, piqued at this affront, revenged him-
self by the Anti Morns, an elegy of four hundred verses, in
which he severely censured all the faults he thought he had
found in the poems of More.
Brixius was certainly the aggressor on this occasion as
More showed in a long and spirited letter which he sent
him. He also published an answer to the Anti Morus, but
on receiving a letter from Erasmus exhorting him to treat
the attack of Brixius with silent contempt, he at once sup-
pressed the edition, and even called in such copies as were
in circulation.
This quarrel produced, at a later date, a letter from
Erasmus, in which he says :
"Respecting your quarrel with More, I cannot express
the great esteem I have for his learning and character, I
think of More as all men do who know him, as a man of
incomparable genius, possessing a happy memory, a most
ready eloquence. When a boy he learned Latin, when a
young man Greek, under the ablest teachers, especially
Grocyn and Linacre. In divinity he has made so much
progress that he is not to be despised even by eminent
theologians. The liberal arts he has touched not infelici-
tously, in philosophy he is beyond mediocrity, to say nothing
of the profession of the law, in which he yields to no one.
His prudence is rare and unheard of, and for these reasons
his sovereign never rested until he had brought More to be
one of his council. As to the ostentatious contempt in
which you profess to hold More, the world will laugh at it.
1520."
/;/ Favour at Court. 29
Extremely against his will had More been brought to
court, and in a letter to his friend Fisher, Bishop of
Rochester, he writes thus concerning it :
" I have come to the court extremely against my will, as
every one knoweth, and as the king himself knows, for in
sport he often twits me with it, and here I hang as unseemly
as a man not used to ride doth sit unhandsomely in his
saddle ; but our prince, whose special and extraordinary
favour towards me I know not how ever to deserve, is so
affable and courteous to all who approach him, that every
one, however little he may imagine it, may hope to win his
love, even as citizens' wives of London do, who imagine that
Our Lady's picture near the Tower smileth' on them when
they pray before it. But I am not so happy as to perceive
such fortunate signs of deserving his love within myself, and
am of too humble a spirit to persuade myself that I deserve
it, yet such is the king's virtue and learning, and so great
his industry, that the more I see him increase in these high
qualities, the less irksome does this courtier's life appear
to me."
After he had been made Treasurer of the Exchequer,
Erasmus, writing to Cochleus, says :
"When next you write to More, you shall wish him joy
of his dignity and good fortune, for being before only of the
king's Privy Council, now of late by the benevolence and
free gift of his most gracious prince, he, neither desiring it,
nor seeking for it, is not only made knight, but Treasurer of
the King's Exchequer, an office in England both honourable
and also commodious for the purse."
" No man," as Erasmus truly said, " ever strove harder
to gain admittance at court than More to keep out of it."
30 In Favour at Court.
Riches and honours then lay at the feet of their unwilling,
recipient, and the even tenor of his life was changed, but he
was never dazzled by the glitter of worldly prosperity, or
court favour, neither of which drew his great heart from
God or the contemplation of eternity.
He then removed from Bucklersbury to the village of
Chelsea, where he had built a pleasant country residence,
for the Chelsea of the sixteenth century was truly in the
country.
The mansion, with a farm attached to it, was large and
commodious. It stood in the midst of pleasant grounds
extending westward at the distance of about a hundred yards
from the Thames. The facade of the house was alternately
divided into four bay and four large casement windows, the
roof having four pediments, each containing a window, a
clock turret crowning the whole.
The porch over the entrance door, which gave ingress to
the hall, was clustered over with jasmine and honeysuckle,
and a profusion of flowering shrubs grew around in wild
luxuriance, doubtless oftentimes tended lovingly by the
hands of his daughter Margaret, that best-loved child of
More's, whose tastes were like his own, for in one of the
letters of his chosen friend, Erasmus, we are told that this
great man loved flowers. The author of the " // Moro "
writes :
"Along the beautiful banks of the Thames there are
many delightful mansions, situated in charming places, in
one of which, very near the city of London, dwelt Sir
Thomas More. It was a beautiful and commodious resi-
dence, and to this place it was his custom to retire when
weary of London. At this house, as well on account of its
In Favour at Court. 31
proximity to town, as for the admirable character of its
owner, men distinguished for their genius, who dwelt in the
city, were often accustomed to meet, and at their leisure were
wont to enter into some useful argument or discourse on
things pertaining to human nature. The place was charming,
both from the advantages of its site, for from one part almost
the whole of the noble city of London was visible ; and
from another, the beautiful Thames, with green meadows
and woody eminences all around, and also for its own
beauty, for as it was crowned with an almost perpetual ver-
dure, it had many flowering plants, and the branches of fruit
trees which grew around, so beautifully interlaced each
other, that it appeared like a living tapestry woven by nature
herself."
How More must have enjoyed, when his day's toil was
over, taking boat with Roper, his future son-in-law, at West-
minster, and rowing back to his pleasant intellectual home
on the banks of the then pellucid waters of the Thames.
At this time Sir Thomas was in the very prime of man's
existence. He was daily at the court. Honours, affluence,
and pleasures awaited him at every turn. His society was
sought for by his prince, he was esteemed by his equals,
loved by the poor, and honoured by his fellow-citizens. But
let us look at the other side of the picture, and regard Sir
Thomas in the bosom of his family, in his several relations
of life as husband, father, and master and we shall find
it simply impossible to imagine a more perfect type of a
Christian household, than that which was governed by Sir
Thomas More.
Moroseness and formalism, the condemnation of innocent
and cheerful recreation, regarding it as a species of sinful-
32 In Favour at Court.
ness, all this is the heritage of Puritanism, brought in with
the so-called Reformation, and it found no place in More's
household. Religion was, indeed, as it always should be,
brought to bear on the daily events of life, but in no way
interfered with the rational enjoyment of the earthly blessings
bestowed on him. or cast a shadow on any innocent pleasure
or cheerful relaxation, and the master mind of him who
governed the household was full of cheerfulness and wit, and
gifted also with a sweetness of temper which lighted up and
cheered all who came within the range of its happy influence.
And having said thus much, we will devote a chapter to a
description of the household of Thomas More, and insert
various letters written to his daughters from the court. The
letters of Erasmus to Hutton and Budaeus, and his own
letter, which he sent to his friend Peter Giles, with his
Utopia, will admirably bear out all that his early biographers
have described of More's home life.
33
CHAPTER IV.
MORE'S HOME AT CHELSEA.
SOME little distance from the mansion, nestled amidst the
verdant meadows which for generations past have vanished,
for Chelsea has long since become merely a populous
environ of the great Babylon of London, of which it is
indeed a part, Sir Thomas More erected what he called
" The New Buildings."
These buildings consisted of a chapel, a library, a gallery,
and a home for destitute and infirm persons of the parish,
for the support of whom he set aside a fixed amount, and
the care and superintendence of this place devolved entirely
on his eldest daughter, Margaret.
To this chapel he often retired, when he had leisure, for
prayer and meditation. It was his practice to linger there,
especially on the Fridays, in memory of Christ's Passion,
spending much of the day in contemplation, a practice
which, above all else, makes known to us the source whence
he derived his unalterable patience and resignation. Much
in the night, too, did he watch whilst all around him slept.
On Good Friday it was his custom to call his family together
in this chapel, and read to them the Passion of our Lord,
pausing now and then at certain passages on which he
desired to comment.
Idleness was a stranger in More's household. His
numerous servants were not allowed to pass their time at
D
34 Morels Home at Chelsea.
games of hazard. The natural ability and talent of each
one was tested carefully, and whilst the undisciplined lives
of the serving-men of persons of rank were often the main-
springs which caused much trouble to the community at
large, the domestics of More formed a happy exception to
the general rule. Everyone was provided with the occupa-
tion best suited to him. If one had an ear for music, or
another a good voice, the talent was encouraged in every
possible way. Some had a particular portion of the garden
to attend to. The men dwelt on one side of the house
the' women on the other. It was also his wont to call them
together to pray with him, ere the shades of night had
fallen. He rose early himself, and all followed this most
healthy and laudable example. At table one or other of
his servants would read aloud, and his domestics he regarded
rather in the light of children than as servants.
Yery careful, too, was he of the avoidance of all singu-
larity, and so appeared like most others in his dress and
behaviour, but yet next his body he wore a shirt of hair,
which, says William Roper, my sister More*, as he sat at
supper, single in his doublet and hose, wearing thereupon a
plain shirt, without either ruffe or collar, chancing to espie,
began to laugh at it. " My wife,t not ignorant of his ways,
perceiving the same, told him of it privately, and he, sorry
that it had been seen, at once concealed it. Not unfre-
quently did he use a discipline of knotted cords, known only
to my wife, his eldest daughter, and above all others he
* Roper's Life of More.
Anne Cresacre More, the wife of John More, aged 15.
t Margaret Roper.
More's Home at Chelsea. 35
specially trusted her to wash with her own hands these same
shirts of hair."
His admonitions to his wife and children were delivered
in his own peculiar style. " It is no great matter if you, my
children, get to heaven," he was wont to say, " for everyone
sets you good example, and adviseth you wisely. You see
virtue rewarded and vice punished, and so you are carried
up thither by the chins ; but if you chance to see the day
when none shall give you good example, or good advice,
and you shall rather see virtue punished and vice rewarded ,
if then you stand fast, and cling close to God, then, on my
life, though you be only half good, God will count you as
whole good." To foolish indulgence of those he dearly
loved he never yielded, and if he heard them complain of
trifling discomforts, he would say to them, " We mast not
look to go to heaven on feather beds. Our Lord Himself
went thither but by suffering, and the servant must not look
to be in better case than his master." Somewhat careless
even in his own apparel, the charge of which he left entirely
to his man Harris, who was at times somewhat forgetful of
his duty, he was never more distressed than when he
observed in his children any evidence of personal vanity,
and once observing Dame Alice, his wife, take great pains
to comb up her long hair to show her high forehead, and by
tight-lacing to strive to make her waist small, even to her
own great pain, said he, " Forsooth, madam, if God give
you not hell He will do you great wrong, for it must needs
be your own of very right, for you buy it very dear, and take
great pains to gain it."
A sharp keen manager was this Lady More, and her
husband was wont to tell her she was "penny-wise and
36 Morels Home at Chelsea.
pound foolish ; saving a candle's end and spoiling av elvet
gown ;" whilst she, on her part, not unfrequently quarrelled
with him for having no ambition, using a favourite and
inelegant form of speech, which she often adopted : " Tillie
vallie, tillie vallie ! will you sit and make goslings in the
ashes. My mother has often said to me, ' it is better to rule
than to be ruled.' " " Good wife," replied More, " that is
well said, for I never yet found you willing to be
ruled."
It was no small sorrow to More to find that, by degrees,
he, for a long space of time, almost wholly lost the happi-
ness of his own home, for he found that when he was in
London, he was expected by the king to lodge within the
palace, so that not only was all domestic enjoyment at an
end, but he was also unable to execute the literary projects
he had formed. On holidays it was the king's custom, when
his devotions were over, to summon Sir Thomas to his
cabinet, and converse with him on astronomy, geometry, and
divinity, and, on clear nights, to ascend with him to the
leads of the palace, and there discourse with him of the
diversity of the courses, motions, and operations of the stars,
and being of a facetious and pleasant turn of mind, the king
and queen would often, after they had supped, send for him
tp enjoy his pleasant conversation.
Sir Thomas, however, liked his liberty far better than this
unrestricted intercourse with royalty, and at length, finding
that scarce once in a month he had leave to go to his wife
and children, and that he could not absent himself for two
days without being sent for again, he began to dissemble his
mirth, and so, little by little, " to disuse himself, and from
henceforth at such seasons he was no more ordinarily sent
Mare's Home at Chelsea. 37
for.' 7 * With so tender a nature, and so sweet a disposition,
he must indeed have sorely missed the home circle, and as
they were chiefly written whilst he was either thus detained
by the king at court, or when engaged on foreign embassies,
this appears, as we said in the preceding chapter, the fittest
place in which to insert the various letters written by the
scholar to his children.
Sir Thomas More's daughters may be said to have led the
way for the better education of the female sex. Latin was
still somewhat of a living language, and an acquaintance
with it was of more use than in the present day, and the
' School of Sir Thomas More," as it was calted by his family
and their friends, gradually acquired a widely spread
renown. There are many, even in our own later times, who
deny to women the intelligence of the sterner sex ; granting
the truth of the assertion, Sir Thomas saw in it only a reason
for increased diligence on the part of women. Witness the
following letter writen to their preceptor, one William
Gunnell : t
" I have received, my dear Gunnell, your letters such as
they are wont to be, most elegant and full of affection.
Your love towards my children I gather from your letters,
their diligence by their own ; for every one of their epistles
pleaseth me much. Yet most especially I take joy to hear
that my daughter Elizabeth hath showed as great prudence
in her mother's absence as if she had been present ; let her
know that that liked me better than all the epistles besides,
for as I esteem learning which is joined with virtue more
than all the treasures of kings, to what doth the fame of being
* Roper,
f Life of Sir Thomas More, by More.
38 More's Home at Chelsea.
a great scholar bring us, if it be severed from virtue, other
than a notorious and famous infamy, especially in a woman,
whom men will be the more ready to assail for their learning
because it is a rare matter, and argueth a reproach to the
sluggishness of a man, who will not stick to lay the fault of
their natural malice upon the quality of learning ; but if a
woman, on the other hand, shall join many virtues of the
mind with skill in learning, as I hope all mine will do, I
shall account it a more happy thing than if they had all the
riches of Crcesus united to the beauty of the fair Helen, not
because they were to get fame thereby, though it insepar-
ably follows virtue as the shadow doth the body, but because
they will obtain the true rewards of wisdom, which can never
be taken away as wealth may, nor will it fade as beauty doth,
because it dependeth upon truth and justice, and not on the
words of men's mouths, than which nothing is more foolish ;
for as it is the duty of a good man to eschew infamy, so is
it the property of a proud man to frame his actions only for
praise, for that man's mind must be full of anxiety that always
wavers, for fear of other men's judgments, between joy and
sadness. Amongst the benefits which learning hath bestowed
on men I account it the most profitable that we look not for
praise to be accounted learned, but only to use it on all
occasions ; which the best of all learned men, I mean the
philosophers, have delivered to us, though some of them
have abused their science, aiming only to be accounted
excellent men by the people. Thus have I spoken, my
Gunnell, somewhat more cf not coveting vain glory in respect
of those words in your letter, wherein you say that the high
spirit of my daughter Margaret's wit is not to be dejected ;
I am of the same opinion, but I think that he dejects his
Mortfs Home at Chelsea. 39
wit who admires vain objects, esteeming the shadow of good
things, for want of discretion to judge true from apparent
good rather than the truth itself j and I have not only
requested you, dear Gunnell, who of yourself I believe would
have done it, neither have I desired my wife alone, but also
other friends I have entreated many times, to persuade my
children to avoid the gulfs of pride, to walk through the
pleasant meadows of modesty; not to be enamoured of the
glitter of gold and silver, nor lament the want of it j to think
none the better of themselves for all their costly trimmings,
nor more meanly for the lack of them ; not to lessen their
beauty bestowed on them by nature by neglecting it, nor to
add to it by artificial means ; to esteem virtue their chief
happiness, learning and good qualities the next, of which
above all are piety towards God, charity to all men, modesty
and Christian humility in themselves, by which they will
reap from God the reward of an innocent life, so that they
shall not need to fear death, and meanwhile will not be
puffed up with the vain praises of men, nor cast down by
slanders and disgrace. These are the solid fruits of learning,
which as I confess belong not to all, but those may yet attain
them who study with this intent. It matters not at harvest
time whether man or woman sowed the corn, for both are
reasonable beings, and therefore I do not see why learning
may not equally suit either sex. Reason being thus culti-
vated and (as a field) sown with wise precepts, it bringeth
forth good fruit ; but if the soil of woman's brain be of its
own nature bad, and more apt to bear fern than corn, by
which saying many terrify women from learning, I am of
opinion that woman's wit is the more diligently to be culti-
vated, to the end that nature's defect may be redressed by
40 Morels Home at Chelsea.
industry ; of which mind were several wise and holy Fathers.
S. Jerome and S. Augustine amongst others, who not only
exhorted many noble matrons and honourable virgins to love
of study, but, to help them, expounded to them difficult
portions of Scripture ; and wrote letters to tender maidens,
full of so great learning that scarcely our greatest professors
of divinity can well read them ; which works, you will endea-
vour, my dear Gunnell, that my daughters may learn,
so that they may know the end they ought to have in
study, to place the fruits of their labours in God and a pure
conscience, that at peace with themselves they be not moved
with flattery nor grieved at the scoffs of the unlearned.
Though I fancy you may reply that though this be true my
precepts are too strong and hard for the tender age of my
young wenches to listen to, for what man, be he ever so old
and learned, is always so constant as not to be elated with
the tickling of vain glory? For myself I consider it so
hard to shake from us this plague of pride that we ought the
more to endeavour to do it from our very infancy. I think
there is no other cause why this mischief doth stick so fast
to us, but that it is ingrafted in us even by our nurses as
soon as we have crept out of our shells, fostered by our
masters, nourished and perfected by our parents, whilst no
one proposeth anything good to children, but they at once bid
them expect praise as the reward of virtue, whence they are
so used to esteem much of praise, that seeking to please the
greater number, who are always the worst, they are ashamed
to be good with the few. And that this plague maybe
banished from my children, I desire that you, my dear
Gunnell, their mother, and all their friends, would still sing
them this song, hammer it into their heads on every occasion,
Mores Home at Chelsea. 41
that vain glory is to be despised, nor anything more excel-
lent than the humble modesty so much praised by Christ,
which prudent charity will so guide and direct that it will
teach us rather to desire virtue than to upbraid others for
their vices, and make them rather love those who correct
their faults than hate them for their good counsel, to obtain
which nothing is more available than to read them the pre-
cepts of the Fathers, whom they know not to be angry with
themselves, and with whose authority they must be moved
because they are venerable for their sanctity.
"If, therefore, you will read the works of such to
Margaret and Elizabeth besides their lessons in Sallust,
as they, being the eldest, are of riper age, than John and
Cicely, you will make both them and me every day more
beholden to you ; moreover you will then make my children,
dear in the order of nature, more dear for learning, and by
their increase in virtue most dear unto me. Farewell.
From the Court, this Whitsun Eve."
By the above letter which I have transcribed it will be
seen that Sir Thomas's chief care was to make his children
virtuous, as well as learned. The following letters were
addressed to themselves.
" Thomas More, to his whole School sendeth greeting.
" Behold, I have found out a compendious way to salute
you all, and make spare of time and paper, which I must
needs have wasted in saluting each one of you by name,
which would be very superfluous, because you are all so
dear to me, some in one way, some in another, that I cannot
leave one of you unsaluted. Yet I know not if there be
any better motive why I should love you, than that you are
scholars, learning seeming to bind me more closely to you
42 Morels Home at Chelsea.
than nearness of blood. If I loved you not exceedingly I
should envy your great happiness in having many great
scholars for your masters. I hear that Mr. Nicolas is with
you, that you have learned much astronomy of him, and
have proceeded so far in this science that you know not
only the pole-star, the dog, and such like common con-
stellations, but also, which argues you as absolute and
cunning astronomers, you know the chief planets them-
selves, and are able to discern the sun from the moon. Go
forward therefore in your new and admirable skill, and
whilst you daily admire the stars, I admonish you also to
think of this holy fast of Lent, and let the pious song of
Boethius sound in your ears, so that your minds may ascend
to heaven, lest when the body is lifted up on high the soul
be driven down to earth with the brute beasts. Farewell.
From the Court, this 2 9th of March."
And, in answer to the loving replies of his daughters,
came the following.
" Thomas More, to his best beloved children, and to
Margaret Giggs, whom he numbers amongst his own, send-
eth greeting. The merchant from Bristol brought me yours
the day after he had received them from you, with the
which I was extremely delighted, for there can come nothing,
though never so rude nor meanly polished, from your work-
shop but it yieldeth me more delight than other men's
works, be they ever so eloquent, your writing doth so stir
up my affection for you.
t " Exclusive of this, your letters also please me well for
their own worth, as full of fine wit and pure Latin phrase ;
therefore they all please me exceedingly. Yet, to tell you
candidly what I think, my son John's letter pleaseth me
Morels Home at Chelsea. 43
most, because it was longer than the others, and also he
seems to me to have taken more pains than the rest ; he
not only pointeth out the matter clearly, and speaketh
elegantly, but also playeth pleasantly with me, returning my
jests upon me again very wittily, and this not only pleasantly
but temperately withal, showing that he is mindful with
whom he jesteth, to wit, his father, whom he endeavours so
to delight that he is also afraid to offend.
" Hereafter I expect every day letters from each one of
you, neither will I accept of such excuses as you complain
of, that you had no leisure, or that the carrier went away
suddenly, or that you have no matter to write. John is not
wont to allege any Such things, and nothing can hinder you
from writing, but many things should exhort you to it. Why
should you blame the carrier, seeing you may prevent his
coming, and have them ready made up and sealed two days
before any offer themselves to carry them ? And how can
you want matter of writing to me, who am delighted to
hear either of your studies or your play, whom you may
then please exceedingly, when, having nothing to write of,
you write as largely as you can of that nothing, than which
nothing is more easy for you to do, especially being women,
and therefore prattlers by nature, amongst whom a great
story riseth out of nothing. But this I admonish you to do,
that, whether you write of serious matters or of trifles,
you write with diligent consideration, premeditating it
before ; neither will it be amiss if you first indite in English,
for then it may be more easily translated into Latin, while
the mind free from inventing is apt in finding eloquent
words.
" I leave this to your choice whether you do so or no,
44 Mores Home at Chelsea.
but I enjoin you by all means diligently to examine what
you have written before you write it over fair again, examin-
ing first the whole sentence, then various parts of it, by
which you will discover if any solecisms have escaped you ;
which being corrected, and your letter fairly written out,
let it not trouble you to examine it again. By this dili-
gence, your trifles will seem serious matters, for as nothing
is so pleasing but that it may be made unsavoury by garru-
lity, so nothing is so unpleasant that by industry may not
be made graceful and comely. Farewell, my sweetest
children. From the Court, this fifth day of September."
Amidst the distractions of a court life, and the exactions
the king made upon his time, More yet found leisure to
compose letters full of wisdom and fatherly love ; one of
his replies to Margaret ran as follows
" Thy letters, dearest Margaret, were grateful unto me>
which certified me of the state of Shaw ; yet would they
have been more grateful unto me, if they had told me what
your and your brother's studies were, what is read amongst
you every day, how you converse together, what themes
you make, and how you pass the day amongst you ; and
although nothing is written froni you but is most pleasing
to me, yet those things are sweet which I can only learn
through you or your brother. And in short, I pray thee,
Meg, see that I understand by you what your studies are.
For rather than I would suffer you, my children, to live
idly, I would myself look to you with loss of my temporal
estate, bidding all other cares and business farewell, amongst
which there is nothing more sweet unto me than thyself,
my dearest daughter. Farewell."
The following letter is addressed to all his daughters.
Morels Home at Chelsea. 45
'? Thomas More sendeth greeting to his most dear
daughters, Margaret, Elizabeth, and Cicely, and to Margaret
Giggs, as dear to him as if she were his own. I cannot
sufficiently express, my best beloved wenches, how your
eloquent letters have pleased me and not the least that I
understand by them that you have not in your journeys,
though changing places often, omitted any of your customs
of exercising yourselves either in declamation, composing
poetry, or in your logical exercises ; and so I feel convinced
that you dearly love me, being thus careful to please me by
your diligence, performing in my absence what you know
delights me when I am present ; my return then shall be
profitable to you, and assure yourselves, that amongst my
troublesome and business affairs there is nothing so much
delights me as when I read of your labours by which I
know that to be true which your loving master writes me of
you ; for unless your own epistles showed me how great
was your desire to learn, I should have suspected that he
had either written out of affection than according to truth,
but now you make me believe and lead me to imagine those
things to be true of your disputations which he boasteth of
you almost beyond belief. I am very desirous to come
home that I may set our scholar to dispute with you, who
is slow to believe you able to answer your master's praises.
But I hope knowing how stedfast you are that you will
shortly overcome your master, if not in disputing, at least
in not leaving off your strife. Farewell, dear wenches/'
Nor could the loving father refrain from pouring into
Margaret's ears the praises of a learned divine, and he
begins as follows : *
* Stapleton's Life of More, p. 267.
46 Mare's Home at Chelsea.
"Thomas More sendeth hearty greetings to his dearest
daughter Margaret.
" I must tell you, my dearest daughter, how much your
letter delighted me ; you may imagine how exceedingly it
pleased your father when you understand what emotions its
perusal raised in a stranger. This evening I was seated with
the Lord Bishop of Exeter, a learned, and in every one's
judgment a most truthful man. As we were talking together,
and I taking out of my pocket a paper concerning what we
were speaking of, I pulled out by chance your letter. The
handwriting pleasing him he took it from me and looked at
it ; when he perceived it to be a woman's he began to devour
the letter, novelty inciting him ; but having read it, and
understood it to be your writing, which he never would have
believed if I had not seriously affirmed it, such a letter,
but I will say no more, yet why should I not repeat what
he said ? So pure a style, such good Latin, so full of sweet
affection, he was perfectly delighted with it ; and when I
produced, which he read, also, many of your verses, he
was so astonished that his very countenance and manner,
free from all flattery and deceit, betrayed that he felt more
than he " could say, though he said much in your praise.
Forthwith he drew from his pocket a portegue,* which you
shall receive enclosed herein. I could not possibly avoid
taking it, for he desired to send it as a sign of his affection
for you, though I strove to return it again ; this was the
cause why I showed him none of your sister's works, fearing
lest he should think 'I showed them on purpose that he
should bestow the same courtesy on them also, for it troubled
me sorely to take of so worthy a man ; but it is a happiness
* Portegufc, a gold coin of the value of 3 xos.
Morels Home at Chelsea. 47
to please him. Write carefully to him, and as eloquently
as you are able, in order to return him thanks. Farewell.
From the Court, this nth of September, almost at mid-
night."
Margaret made an oration to answer Quintilian, defend-
ing the rich man he accused of having poisoned a poor
man's bees with venomous plants in his garden ; and so
eloquent and witty was this oration that it deserved a place
beside his own. With one more letter of the Chancellor,
containing strictures on his daughter's letters, I shall con-
clude these letters on his children's studies. It ran as
follows :
" Thomas More sendeth greeting to his dearest daughter
Margaret.
" There was no reason, my dearest daughter, why you
should have deferred writing for fear that your letters being
barren should disgust me ; for though they had not been
most curious, yet on account of thy sex any man might
pardon thee, yea, even a blemish in the child's face seems
often beautiful to a father. But then your letters, Meg,
were so eloquently written that they had nothing in them
to fear from your indulgent father. Also, I heartily thank
Mr. Nicolas (a clever astronomer), and congratulate you
for having in the space of one month with but small labour
to learn so many wonders of that mighty and eternal work
which were not discovered in many ages, but by watching
in many cold nights under the open sky with much pain
and labour. 1 am well pleased that you have resolved so
diligently to study philosophy. I love you for this, dearest
Meg, seeing that you will recover by diligence what negli-
gence hath lost you. I have never found you a loiterer,
48 Moris Home at Chelsea.
your learning showing how painfully you have proceeded ;
yet such is your modesty, that you had rather accuse your-
self of negligence than vainly boast of diligence, except you
mean that in future you will be so diligent that your former
efforts may be called negligent.
" If this be the case nothing can happen more fortunate
to me, or more happy to you, my dearest daughter, for as I
have earnestly wished that you might spend the rest of your
life in studying physic and holy Scriptures^ by which help
shall never be wanting to you to the end of your life, which
is to strive that a sound mind be in a healthy body, of
which studies you have already laid a foundation, so I think
that some of the first years of your youth still remaining
may be well bestowed in human learning and the liberal
arts, both because your age may best struggle with difficulty,
and also because it is uncertain whether at any other time
we shall have so learned and careful a master.
" I could wish, dear Meg, that I might talk with you a
long time about these matters, but those who bring in supper
interrupt me and call me away. My supper cannot be so
sweet to me as this my speech with you, were I not to
respect others more than myself. Farewell, dearest daugh-
ter ; commend me kindly to your husband, my loving son,
who makes me rejoice that he studies the same things with
you ; so that, although I am wont to advise you always to
give place to your husband, now I give you leave to strive
to master him in the knowledge of the spheres. Farewell,
again and again ; commend me to all your school-fellows,
but especially to your master.
49
CHAPTER V.
MORE AND HIS FRIENDS.
THE following abstracts of letters written by More, when he
was in the height of his fame will no doubt be interesting,
coupled as they are with the name of the scholar Erasmus,
and of other celebrities, some of whose letters are inserted ;
they are the key to many which follow them, and abun-
dantly testify to the fact of the poverty of this learned man,
as also to the liberality of Archhishop Warham, and Fisher,
Bishop of Rochester. The following bears the date of
1516, but no month is specified.
MORE TO ERASMUS.
" I have received only three letters from you direct, dearest
Erasmus, since I left. Were I to lie with most solemn
countenance and swear I had replied to you as often, it is
ten to one you would not believe me ; especially as you
know me so well, how idle I am in answering letters, and
not so superstitiously veracious as to reckon every white
lie as black as thunder.
** Pace is on an embassy in your part of the world, yet
not wholly so, for though not with us, he is not with you.
I have a great affection for him and hope he will return
safely, as between Pace and you I lose both parts of my-
self. I hope some great good fortune is in store for Pace,
he stands so high in favour with the king, the cardinal, and
50 More and his Friends.
all men of worth. I hope better luck too for yourself, you
are partly to blame and partly in luck, as the prebend of
Tournay, which Mountjoy had obtained for you, and which
you now wish to have, but had formerly told me and
Sampson you would rather decline, will be exchanged for a
better. Shortly before you left I went to Tournay, and
then heard from Mountjoy and Sampson that Wolsey, in
ignorance of these arrangements, had written for that pre-
ferment to be given to some one else, to whom he had pro-
mised it. I have, however, got them to write back to him-,
and say it was promised to you, but Wolsey said it was not
good enough for you, and promised something better. He
is well-disposed towards you. I have quickened Maruffo
about paying the money.
" The Archbishop has succeeded at last in getting rid of
the chancellorship, which he has been labouring to do for
some years. The king has nominated Wolsey in his place.
My embassy has been successful but tedious. I have been
away more than six months. I have written to the Cardinal
for my recall, and made use of Pace for that purpose ; but
on my return I met Pace at Gravelines, hurrying away at
such a rate we had scarce time to say, ' How do you do?'
Tunstal has just returned after a stay of ten days of anxiety,
and is thrust, much against his stomach, into a new legation.
I compare the case of clerical ambassadors to that of a
layman like myself. They have no family to burthen
them, and have a chance of ecclesiastical promotion which
costs the king nothing. Amongst other things which
pleased me in my embassy not the least is it that I became
acquainted with Buslidian,he entertained me most courteously
according to his great wealth and extreme good nature ; he
More and his Friends. 51
showed me his house most cunningly built, and enriched
with costly furniture and a number of antiques, in which
you know I take a great pleasure ; finally, he showed me
his exquisite library, yea, even his very heart he laid open
to me, more stored than any library, so that I was greatly
amazed.
" But in all my travels, dear Erasmus, nothing happened
more to my wish than making the acquaintance of Peter
Giles of Antwerp, a man so learned, so merry, so modest,
and so friendly, that let me be baked if I would not pur-
chase this man's familiarity with the loss of a good part of
my estate. He is a man of good reputation amongst his
countrymen, and worthy amongst the best, and being but a
young man, I know not whether he be more learned or
better endowed with great abilities, he is most virtuous and
a great scholar. And, moreover, so courteous to all and so
faithful to his friends that you would find it hard to find
another to compare with him, he has also a rare diffidence,
loves not flattery, candour and wisdom are united in his
person, and then his conversation is so cheerful and pleasant
that he greatly lessens my still over eager desire to return
to my country, my wife, and my children, of the enjoyment
of whose company, I am yet very anxious. I am glad to
hear the New Testament gets on well.
" Linacre speaks highly of you, as I have heard from
some who were present at a supper given by the king, when
your praises were being sung. My wife desires to be
remembered to you, also Clement, who makes great pro-
gress in Greek and Latin, and whom I hope will one day
be an ornament to his country. The Bishop of Durham is
grateful for the dedication of Seneca."
More and his Friends.
MORE TO ERASMUS.
"25 Feby., 1516.
" The Archbishop has ordered 20 to be sent you. I
enclose his letter and the bond of Maniffo, that you may
understand how liberal the Archbishop is of his money,
and that I am no bad purveyor of other men's property.
I have written to an Englishman to pay Aegidius ^30
Flemish, which you deposited with me. Colet is earnestly
studying Greek, and has made use of the services of
Clement (More's page). I think you had better not write
and urge Colet in his new studies. * Solet ut eis, disputandi
gratia repugnare suadentibus, etiamsi id suadeant in quod
illi sua sponte maxime propendeantur.' "
FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.
"April 28, 1516.
" I am too much engaged, my dear Erasmus, to apply to
the beauties of style. On receipt of your letter I called
on Maruffo, who said that as soon as he had the money
from the Archbishop he would arrange for its payment to
you. I told him you had received notice of its payment
from the Archbishop, on which, in a great fright, Maruffo
gave me a bond for the money, took the letters as a security,
and wrote for prompt repayment, saying he had already
been some time out of pocket by advancing the money to
you. I could give you a laughable account of my inter-
view with the Archbishop and Maruffo's discomfiture. For
every i you will receive 303. 4d. Flemish. The cardinal
has received with pleasure your books and letters. I am
More and his Friends. 53
glad you like Basle. I have read the bundle of correspond-
ence you sent me, Pace has not yet returned ; he is now
the king's secretary. Clement desires his remembrances."
The following was evidently written when Erasmus visited
England, and was More's guest at Chelsea, from the allusion
to the wife of the latter.
ERASMUS TO AMMONIUS.
" I hope the hunting may prove as fortunate to you as it
has proved unfortunate to me, for it carried away the King
and the Cardinal I angled for Urswick by sending him
a New Testament, and asked for the horse he had promised
me, but I found when writing to him on Monday that he
had also gone hunting ; Thynne slips off in the same way,
and now yourself. I beg you to break open the letter
destined by me for the Pope, and to have it re-copied. I
hope our projects will be successful.
" P.S. I might possibly stay in England a few days,
waiting for Urswick to send me the horse, were I not tired
of this country, and feel that I am a stale guest to More's
wife, (sentirem me vetulum jam hospitem nxori Moricce sup
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
" The Bishop of Rochester (Fisher) has prevailed on me
to spend ten days with him, I have regretted it more than
ten times. I had hoped to wheedle Urswick out of a new
horse, by sending him a New Testament, as my old horse
died of drink in Flanders, but whilst he was away hunting,
my hunting ended in nothing. I shall not leave here before
the end of the week. On leaving home I wrote to More
54
More and his friends.
and sent him a copy of the Epistole ad Leonem, but it was
badly written.
"Rochester, 16 Aug., 1516.
"P.S. I shall feel greatly obliged if you will do me the
service I asked of you, and thus relieve me from my
anxiety."
AMMONIUS TO ERASMUS.
11 1 did not dare ask you to stay even two days, as you
seemed in such a hurry to get away ; I will venture, however,
though all are not like the Bishop of Rochester. I am not
at all surprised that your hunting proved unsuccessful ; it is
a new kind of metamorphosis to transform books into
horses.
" I have received the letters you sent for More, and I
will look to your business, but you must not expect haste
as the passages are beset with soldiers. Give my compli-
ments to the Bishop of Rochester.
" 26 Aug., 1516."
ERASMUS TO AMMONIUS.
" John would have gained a beating had not More stepped
in in time to save him, for as soon as he heard I was in
Rochester, he paid me me a visit as if he never expected to
see me again. You are always catching at occasions of
sending me presents ; I would have sent back the last had
not More dissuaded me from doing so. I am much pleased
with the handsome white horse you have sent, but would
rather have played the thief with the Archbishop of York,
Colet, or Urswick, the last of whom promised a horse, and
More and his Friends. 55
will certainly keep his word. I will write from Brabant to
Yorke and Larke.
"Rochester, nth Sep., 1516."
ERASMUS TO MORE.
" I send you my picture by Peter Codes (the one-eyed),
you need not give him more than ten or twelve groschen
(grossi). I wish I could come myself. Whilst nursing
Petrus Aegidius I have caught so bad a cold that I am
almost dead with it. Dorpius is friendly, but sparing of his
praises.
" Lou vain, 1517."
i
MORE TO ERASMUS.
" Peter Codes has brought me the picture; I am delighted
with the skill of the artist. If there be one thought of
ambition in my mind, it is the pleasure I feel that my name
will always hereafter be intimately associated with yours.
I have read your Apology, and admire it more than any of
your writings. I have sent the transcriber into England
with ten groats as you ordered, and I gave a noble to Peter
who brought the picture. I am much affected by the death
of Buslidian ; I was so hampered that I could not get away
to St. Omer. Tunstal has returned to England.
"Calais, 17 Oct., 1517."
MORE TO PETRUS AEGIDIUS.
"I am very anxious for your convalescence. I have
written to Erasmus, and beg you will seal and send him the
enclosed letters.
" P.S. Enclosed is a copy of verses in which I compli-
56 More and his Friends.
ment (Quinctinas Matsys) the painter, for his picture ot
Erasmus and yourself. Quinctinas has so cleverly imitated
my hand that I could not do it so well myself.
" Aegidius was represented holding in his hand a letter
from More."
MORE TO ERASMUS.
" I have received your letter, my dear Erasmus, written
at Calais, and informing me of your prosperous voyage, the
Provost of Cassell says that before he reached home you
had got safely to Brussels, MarufFo grumbles that he has
lost on the money paid to you. I have sent a bill for ,20
more from the Archbishop, and the bearer will pay Aegidius
the ,20 deposited with me by you. I sent my Utopia
some time since, and am delighted to hear it will come
out in a magnificent form,
"Lond., 1517.
ERASMUS TO MORE.
" I sent you lately a packet of letters, with a copy of the
Utopia by a friend, and I now send you by the hand of
another, Reuchlin's work, Reuchlinsea Omnia, in a single
volume, which you are to show to Bishop Fisher and return
when read.
"I commend to your notice the Theological Proposi-
tions. I sent a letter to Marlianus, who imagined that the
first book of Utopia was written by me. As soon as you
have corrected the Utopia I will send the MS. to Basle
or Paris.
"The Prince (Charles) will soon take his departure, and
I am quite uncertain as to my own movements. Large
More and his Friends. 57
sums are demanded of the people and immediate payment,
it has been allowed by the nobles and the clergy, that is, by
those who will not have to pay it. The Emperor is at hand
with a magnificent army, and the fields are full of soldiers.
I wish to know if Canterbury, Colet, and Rochester remain
constant to me. A pest upon Maruffo and his band.
* ' Antwerp, March, 1817.
" Francis is in England, send back copies of the enclosed
letters, and also those delivered by Lupset."
Thus did Erasmus vent his complaint concerning the
money committed to him from England by the hands of a
knavish Italian, who retained no small portion of it, and he
then begged the Archbishop to take heed for the future
what agents he employed in the affair. This good Prelate
had been in pain, as his letters show, lest Erasmus
should want for money, and promised to procure him
another prebend. How uncommon is it for persons in
high station to have any regard at all for the learned, and
much more to preserve so constant an affection especially
for one who is at a distance. Erasmus in his preface to S.
Jerome tells his patron that as he was contented with a little,
so at that time he wanted for nothing. At present, he writes,
" I think myself a sort of nobleman, for I maintain two horses
who are better fed, and two servants who are better clad
than their master."
Living thus, it was impossible he could lay up much, for
he wanted amanuensis to transcribe his works, and horses
to travel himself. In appearance Erasmus was low of
stature with blue eyes, and in his youth his hair was of
flaxen colour. His countenance was grave ; he had a won-
58 More and his Friends.
derful memory and without question, was the finest genius
and the most learned person of his age.*
ARCHBISHOP WARHAM TO ERASMUS.
" I received your letter on the ides of February, speaking
highly of your expectations ; If fortune favors you I advise
you to embrace it. I would have invited you to England
that I might have enjoyed in my present retirement from
the bench the pleasure of your conversation, but I am un-
willing to frustrate your hopes. You need not be under
any anxiety about your pension, I have written to Maruffo
to transmit you a sum of money free of all expenses."
"Canterbury, March 24th, 1517."
BISHOP FISHER TO ERASMUS.
"I wrote to you lately and sent you a little present. I
have no control over the funds placed under my care, its
expenditure being limited to certain purposes which it is out
of my power to alter. So long as I have any money, how-
ever, I will not suffer you to want, who are so necessary to
the University of Cambridge. Mountjoy will be sure to re-
member you if he has made any promise to do so. He is
now at Court."
"London, 1517.
Though printed at Basle, the Greek Testament of Erasmus
was strictly the work of his residence in England. In the
collation and examination ofMSS. required for that purpose,
he had the assistance and support of Englishmen ; and
English friends and patrons lent him that aid and support,
without which it is very doubtful whether Erasmus would
* Da Pin.
More and his Friends. 59
ever have completed the work. He was not always liberal
in acknowledging his obligations, yet in his New Testament,
hidden away in a page where no one would have expected
to find it, he bursts into a sudden fit of enthusiasm and
celebrates the praises of Warham in language such as none
but Erasmus could command. After descanting upon the
Archbishop's modesty, labors, genius, administration of
justice (for he was still Chancellor), his patronage of letters
and learned men, Erasmus thus pursues the subject.
" Had it been my good fortune to have fallen in with such
a Maecenas in my earlier years, I might, perhaps, have done
something for literature. Now, born as I was in an unhappy
age, when barbarism reigned supreme, especially amongst
my own people, by whom the least inclination for literature
was then looked on as a crime, what could I do with my
small modicum of talent? Death carried off Henry de
Berghes, Bishop of Cambray, my first patron, my second,
William, Lord Mountjoy, an English peer, was separated
from me by his employments at court and the tumults of
war. By this means it was my good fortune, then advanced
in life and close on my fortieth year, to be introduced to
Archbishop Warham. Encouraged and cheered by his
bounty, I gained youth and strength in the cause of litera-
ture. What nature and my country denied me his bounty
supplied.*
" In one of his letters, Erasmus had complained that it
was discreditable he should be obliged to beg, after spending
so much time in England, but has had so much from Arch-
bishop Warham, that it would be a shame to accept more
if he offered it. And that Linacre, who knew he was going
* Brewer's Cal.
60 More and his friends.
away with no more than six angels, and in indifferent health,
urged him not to apply to the Archbishop or Mountjoy, but
habituate himself to poverty. ' I could do so,' he adds,
' when health was strong, but must try now to save my life,
and I will not refuse Colet's bounty.'"
"P.S. When I broached the subject of an under
Master of Arts, it was said to me, * Who would be a school-
master that could live any other way ? ' And on urging that
above all others it was a Christian work, my interlocutor
replied, ' If a man wishes to serve Christ let him enter a
Monastery;' and when I rejoined that to do good to others
was charity, I was answered, ' Perfection consisted in leaving
all things.' " *
MORE TO ERASMUS.
" I have spoken to Urswick, my dear Erasmus, about the
horse, and he says he has none fit to send you at present.
He sent you some time since Maruffo's bond, which is on
more liberal terms, though neither I nor Lily, who is is a
good Italian scholar, could read it. Palgrave is going to
Louvain to study law, but will continue his Greek and Latin.
He asked me for an introduction to you, and brings with
him letters sent to you from Basle, which I have had some
time."
" I am in the clouds with the dream of the government
to be offered me by my Utopians, and fancy myself a grand
potentate with a crown and a Franciscan cloak, (paludamen-
tum) followed by a grand processsion of the Amauri.
Should it please Heaven to exalt me to so high a dignity, I
shall still keep a corner in my heart for Erasmus and
*Bre*rer'sCal.
More and his Friends. 61
Tunstal, and should they pay me a visit to Utopia, I shall
make all my subjects honour them as is befitting the friends
of Majesty. The morn has dawned and dispelled my
dream, and stripped off my royalty, plunging me down into
my old mill-round at the court."
" London, 1517."
MORE TO ERASMUS.
" I send you my Utopia, my dear Erasmus, and have de-
livered your letters to the Venetian Ambassador, who would
have been glad of a copy of the Xew Testament. We paid
each other long compliments on meeting, but I like him very
much. I have heard nothing yet from the Archbishop. Colet
has not spoken to me about you, but he has. spoken with
Wolsey, who was profuse in your praise. My agent (John)
will deliver to you at Michaelmas the money deposited
with me. If you print my Epigrams a second time, would it
not be better to omit those relating to Briarius."
" London, 3 Sept., 1517."
COLET TO ERASMUS.
"I have received your letter by the one-eyed (Peter) I
did not know till then where he was. Your edition of the
New Testament is much sought after, some approving some
condemning it, using the arguments of Martin Dorp. I have
read it with mixed feelings, glad of the new light, sorry for
my ignorance of Greek. I look anxiously for S. Jerome.
I approve of your work De Institutione Christi Principis, and
I wish you quietly settled. The Archbishop, whom I visited a
few days since, talked much about you. He is rid of all
business and lives in happy retirement, (otio felicissimo)
62 More and his Friends.
I have read yourcomment on Ps. i, and admire your Copia,
I wonder you should praise my fortune, which is far from
ample, and scarce sufficient for my necessary expenses. I
hear you are learning Hebrew."
" From my mother's house at Stepney. She is a cheerful
old lady and often talks of you."
"London, 1517."
ARCHBISHOP WARHAM TO ERASMUS.
"I have received two letters from you, one in West-
minster Hall, the other by so bald a man that he had
scarcely a single hair on his head, who stated that you were
suffering from a cough. I send you twenty gold angels to
cure you, * inter quos Raphaelem salutis modicum reperies.^
I am glad to hear that you intend visiting London next
January.
' Lambeth, n Nov., 1517."
MORE TO ERASMUS.
" 15 Nov., 1517.
" I have received your letters for Colet and Fisher, with
a book for the latter. I wonder you have not written to
the Archbishop yourself, for you have more influence with
Warham than any one else has, but I will do it, if you think
I can do more in person than you can by letter \ but you
will have to wait, as it is usual for an ambassador, on his
return, to visit the King first, and not even casually call
upon any one else. Business also at Calais proceeds so
slowly that I fear I shall have to stay a long time. I will
manage that your pension shall be paid by Maruffo. I do
not think it advisable to redeem it, as it may offend the
More and his friends. 63
Archbishop. I am glad your Paraphrase is in the press;
Pace has not yet returned, nor do I know when he will.
1 cannot think what business he has on hand. As far as I
can hear he has none with the Swiss or the Emperor, and
he has now been more than a year at Constance. I am
glad you liked the verses on the picture. * A friar had
criticized them on account of More comparing the two
friends to Castor and Pollux.' "
MORE TO ERASMUS.
" I make no doubt that Palgrave has given you my letters.
I am glad to find that Dorpius, who would not be quieted by
mild usage, has yielded to sterner treatment. Such is the
way with some. Lupset has given me certain sheets which
he had belonging to you, e.g. Julii Genius, De Pueris
Erudiendis, he affirms he has nothing else. Linacre will
send his translations of Galen to Paris to be printed under
the care of Lupset, and is very much pleased at the notice
of his books by you. Lately, in a large concourse of
people, the Bishop of Winchester (Fox) affirmed that your
version of the New Testament was worth more to him than
ten commentaries. I expect my Utopia.
" London, 15 Dec, 1517.
** I have sent your letter to Latimer. My wife desires a
million of compliments, especially for your careful wish that
she should live many years. She says she is the more
anxious for this as she will live the longer to plague me."
ERASMUS TO PETER AEGIDIUS.
" I am sorry to hear, my dear Aegidius, of your father's
death. The Archbishop Warham writes me that I am to
64 More and Ms Friends.
receive 20, and if I send a receipt the money shall be
paid immediately. I beg you to send to John Crull to pay
the money, and take my receipt. It is to be paid to my
agent in England. More is still at Calais involved in tedious
business, this it is to be loved by kings and blessed by
cardinals. Pace has been in banishment with the Swiss
for two years. The Paraphrase is nearly finished. You are
not to send the books to N. at present, until I see More ;
he is now at Cambridge intending to lecture on Greek.
"Louvain, 17 Dec., 1517."
ERASMUS TO ARCHBISHOP WARHAM.
" I am going to Venice through Germany ; the road is
dangerous from robbers and sickness. I intend to increase
my store of books. Should it be my fate to return, I shall
visit England and settle there. I beg your Grace's liberality.
I am sorry to hear of the death of Grocyn. I think the war
against the Turks is a mere blind; Lorenzo, the Pope's
nephew, is attempting to occupy Campania, and has married
the daughter of the King of Navarre. I wish I had such a
horse as you once sent by me to the Abbot of St. Bertin's.
People seem to wonder that at my age I am going to under-
take such a toilsome journey, whilst I am much more as-
tonished that the Bishop of Paris, who is now nearly seventy,
should engage himself in a task much more burthensome,
for purposes not half so important in my judgment."
"Louvain, 5th March, 1518."
MORE TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD.
" When I was in London I heard that certain scholars of
the University in contempt of Greek literature had banded
More and his Friends. 65
together under the name of Trojans, taking the titles of Priam,
Hector, Paris, and the like. After I had followed the king
to Abingdon, it was repeated to me that this folly was begin-
ning to become serious, and that in the public sermons made
in the sacred season of Lent, much nonsense has been
uttered against learning generally, one "cannot but denounce
in severe terms the folly of a preacher who has distinguished
himself by an attack on the studies of the University and
especially on Erasmus. There is every necessity for a liberal
education for the proper study of theology."
" Abingdon, 4 Kal. April, 1518."
ERASMUS TO HUTTON.
" More is greatly delighted with your writings and at your
request, difficult as is the task, I send you the following
description of him : He is somewhat below the middle
height but perfectly symmetrical in all his limbs ; of a fair
complexion, face inclined rather to fairness than palor, with
very little red except a slight bloom ; hair inclining to black
or dark brown ; thin beard ; grey eyes covered with specks,
which, as a mark of genius, is much admired in England, and
indicates a generous nature. His inside corresponds to his
out. He has a pleasant smiling look, and to tell you the
truth is more inclined to pleasantry than gaiety, though he
is entirely free from buffoonery. His right shoulder is a
little higher that the left, especially when he walks not a
natural defect but an acquired ill habit. As compared with
the rest of his person, his hands are a little clumsy. He
has always been careless of his dress. I became acquainted
with him when he was twenty-three, he is now near forty,
and you may guess from this description how handsome he
p
66 More and his friends.
was in his youth. He has good health, but is not robust,
and is likely to live long, as his father is a very hale old
man. He is indifferent in the choice of his food, generally
drinks water, and sometimes, to please others, beer, little
better than water, out of a tin cup. As it is the fashion to
drink healths in England, More has learned to pledge his
guests summo ore. His favourite diet is beef, salt meats,
and coarse brown bread well fermented ; he prefers milk and
vegetable diet, and is fond of eggs. His voice is pene-
trating and clear, but not musical, although he is fond of
music, his speech plain and distinct. He wears no silk,
purple, or gold chains, except when he cannot avoid it, and
dislikes all ceremony. At first, he was disinclined to Court
life, through hatred of tyranny and love of equality, and
would not be induced to take service at Court except
after great solicitation from Henry VIII. He likes liberty
and ease, but no one is more active or more patient than
he when occasion requires it. He is friendly, accessible,
and fond of conversation, hating tennis, dice, and similar
games. He is very much given to jesting ; wrote and acted
little comedies when a lad, and loves a jest even when
made at his own expense. It was he who induced me to
write my Praise of Folly. He is equally at home with the
wise and the foolish, and in female society he is full of his
jokes. No one is less led by the judgment of the vulgar,
and yet no man has more common sense. His chief
pleasure is in watching animals; he has a variety of them, for
instance, an ape, a fox, a ferret, &c. ny rarity or exotic
he purchases readily, and his house is well furnished with
curiosities. He has always been fond of female society
and female friendships.
More and his Friends. 67
" As a young man he devoted himself to Greek, for which
he was nearly disinherited by his father, who wished to
bring him up to the law, a profession, which above all
others in England, leads to honour and emolument, but
requires many years of hard study. He lectured on St.
Augustine De dvitate Dei^ and was fitting himself by a course
of study and seclusion for the priesthood ; but as he had a
wish to enter the married life he abandoned this design.
" He married a young girl of good family, quite
uneducated, as she had been brought up entirely in the
country, had her instructed, and made her an accomplished
musician, when he unfortunately lost her, after she had
given birth to three daughters, Margaret, Elizabeth, and
Cicely, and a son named John. Unable to live alone, he
married a widow some months after, neither young nor
handsome (nee bella, nee puella, as he himself is fond of
saying) but a good housekeeper to look after his family,
with whom, however, he lives on very amicable terms.
Nothing can show his influence over her more completely
than that, though she is advanced in life, and very atten-
tive to housekeeping, More has prevailed upon her to learn
various musical instruments.
' ' He manages his wliole household in the same admirable
way, there is no noise nor contention, no vice nor bad repute,
and perhaps no family can be found where father, step-
mother, and son live together on such excellent terms.
Moreover, his father has just married a third wife, and
More swears he has not seen a better one.
" When he lived entirely by his profession, he gave every
man true and faithful advice, urging them to make up their
differences though it was contrary to his own interest
68 More and his Friends.
When that was not possible, as some persons take pleasure
in litigation, he showed them how to proceed at the small-
est cost. He was for some time a judge for civil suits in
London, an easy and an honourable post, as he sits only on
Thursday till dinner time, and well did he behave in this
post till he was sent on various embassies by the King, who
takes great pleasure in his company and conversation.
" With all this favour, More is neither proud nor boastful,
nor forgetful of his friends, but always obliging and chari-
table. He wrote his Utopia, to show the perils to which
governments are exposed, but he especially aimed at his
own country ; the second book was written first. He is a
good ex tempore speaker, has a ready wit, and a well-stored
memory, so that he speaks without hesitation. Colet is
accustomed to say of him that he is the only genius in
England. In his devotions he prayed ex tempore, and he
talks with his friends on a future life with perfect sincerity
and assured hope.
"Such men as More, Mountjoy, Linacre, Pace, Colet,
Stokesley, Latimer, Tunstal, and Clerk are a credit to the
Court of Henry VIII.
" Clumsy as is this description, it will not be tedious to
you, considering the subject. You can send by no one
better than Pace, whether I be in Brabant or Brittany. I
hear you are in great favour with Cardinal Cajetan.
"Antwerp, 10 Kal., Aug., 1519."
In another letter to Erasmus, More writes as follows :
"When I returned from my embassy to Flanders, the
king would have given me a yearly pension, which, inasmuch
as one respects honour and profit was not to be lightly es-
teemed, yet have I refused it, and shall continue to do so,
More and his Friends. 69
for I should be sorry to forsake my present means derived
from the city, which I prefer to better, or else I must keep
it with the chance ,that my fellow citizens may distrust my
sincerity, should any future controversy arise between them
and the king on the subject of their privileges."
About the year 1516, More wrote in Latin, his Utopia,
a book so much admired that it was speedily translated into
French, Italian, Dutch, and English.
This Utopia described a complete commonwealth in
an imaginary island, supposed to be lately discovered in
America; but More's pen, however, depicted it in such
glowing colours, that many persons mistook what was merely
romance for reality. Raphael, who is the traveller, and the
relater of the laws, customs, and manners of the Utopians,
or non-existing republic, is More himself, who, depicting a
kingdom in a New World, which no one had seen or would
see, obliquely censures the faults and defects in the old one.
The first book is full of striking and beautiful passages,
serving to excite the attention and give the reader an eager
desire to know what Raphael had seen in his voyages.*
The following letter was addressed by More to his friend
Petrus Aegidius (Peter Giles), whom he puts forward as
having been with himself the auditor of Raphael in his
Utopia.
" 1 am almost ashamed, my dearest Peter Giles, to send
you this book of "The Utopia or Commonwealth," after
about a year's delay, when you no doubt looked for it in
about six weeks ; for as you are sensible that I had no occa-
sion to make use of my invention, or to arrange my subject
methodically, but to repeat exactly what I heard Raphael
* Jortin's Erasmus.
jo More and his Friends.
relate in your presence, so a studied elegance of expression
would have been unnecessary, as he delivered the matter to
us in a careless style ; he, being, you know, a better master
of Greek than of Latin, the plainer my words are, the more
they will resemble his simplicity, and consequently be
nearer to the truth. This is all that I think depends on me,
and the only thing in which I think myself concerned.
" I confess I had very little left for me to do ; for the in-
vention of such a scheme would have cost a man whose
learning and capacity was of the ordinary standing some
pains and much time.
" But had it been necessary that this relation should have
been consistent with truth as well as elegantly expressed,
it could never have been performed, even after all the
time and pains that I could have bestowed upon it ;
for my part in it was so small, all that belonged to me
being only to give a full and true account of the things
that I had heard, and, though this required little of
my time, yet even that little was denied me by my
other duties which press much upon me. For, while in
pleading, hearing, judging, or deciding causes, or arranging
disputes as an arbitrator, in waiting on some men on business,
and on others out of respect, the greatest part of the day is
spent in other men's affairs, the remainder must be given to
my family at home, so that I can reserve no part of it to
myself, that is, to study. I must gossip with my wife and
chat with my children, and find something to say to my
servants, for all these things I reckon a part of my business,
unless I were content to become as a stranger in mine own
house; for with whomsoever either nature, or chance, or
choice, hath engaged a man in any relation of life, he must
More and his Friends. 71
endeavour to make himself as acceptable to them as he
possibly can ; and yet so demeaning himself towards them
as not to spoil them by excessive gentleness, so that his
servants may not become his masters. In such like occupa-
tions days, weeks, months and years slip away, what is then
left for writing ? And yet I have said nothing of the time
that must be for sleep and meals, indeed, all the time that I
can gain for myself is that which I steal from each, and
because that is not much, I have made but a small progress ;
yet is it somewhat. I have at last got to the end of my
Utopia, which I now send to you, and expect that after you
have read it, you will let me know if you can put me in mind
of anything that has escaped me, for though I should think
myself happy if I had but as great powers of invention and
learning as I know I have of memory, yet I do not rely so
entirely upon it as to think I can forget nothing.
" My servant, John Clement, has started some things that
shake me ; you know he was present with us, as I think he
ought to be, at every conversation that may be of use to him ;
for I promise myself great things from the progress he has
made so speedily in Greek and Latin. As far as my memory
serves me, the bridge over Amidor at Amaurot, was, according
to Raphael's account, 500 paces broad, but John assures me
he spoke only of 300 paces, therefore pray recollect what you
can of this, if you remember nothing of it I will not alter what
I have written, because it is to the best of my remembrance,
for as I will take care that there may be nothing falsely
written down, so if there is anything doubtful, though I may,
perhaps, tell a lie, I am sure I will not make one, for I would
rather pass for -a good man that a wise one.
" I have another difficulty that presses upon me more, and
72 More and his Friends.
makes it necessary you should write to him. I know not
whom to blame for it, whether Raphael, you, or myself, for
as we did not think of asking it, so neither did he of telling
us, in what part of the New World Utopia is situated. This
was such an omission that I would gladly redeem it ; at any
rate I am ashamed, that after I have told so many things
concerning this island, I cannot let my readers know in what
sea it lies. There are some amongst us that have a mighty
desire to go thither, and in particular one pious divine is
very earnest upon it, not so much from a vain curiosity of
seeing unknown countries, as that he may advance our
religion, which is happily begun to be planted there, and to
do this regularly, he intends to procure a mission from the
Pope and be sent there as their bishop.
" In such a case he makes no scruple of aspiring to that
character, but thinks such ambition meritorious when
actuated solely by a pious ; zeal he desires it only as the
means of advancing the Christian religion, and not for any
honour to himself; therefore if you meet with Raphael, or
know where he is, be pleased to write to him, and inform
yourself of these things that there be no falsehood in my
book, or any important truth wanting. Perhaps it will not
be unwise to let him see the book itself, for as no man can
correct any errors that may be in it so well as he, so by
reading it, he will be able to give a more perfect judgment,
and you will be able to discover whether this undertaking of
mine is acceptable to him or not, for if he intends to write
an account of his travels, perhaps he will npt be pleased
that I should prevent him in that part which belongs to the
Utopian Commonwealth, since if I should do so, his book
will not surprise the world with the pleasure which this new
More and his Friends. 73
discovery will give the age. I am so little fond of appearing
in print, that if he desires it I will lay it aside,
and, even though he positively approves it, I am not
positively determined as to the publishing it. Men's tastes
differ much, some are of so morose a temper, so sour a
disposition, and form such absurd judgments, ttiat others of
cheerful and lively temper, who do not indulge their genius,
seem much happier, than those who waste their time and
strength in order to publish a book, which, though of itself
useful or pleasant, will be sure to be either laughed at or
censured. Many know nothing of learning, others despise it.
A man that is accustomed to a coarse and harsh style,
thinks everything stupid that is not barbarous. Our trifling
pretenders to learning think little of that that is not dressed
up in obsolete words, some love only old things, and many
like nothing but what is their own. Some are so sour that
they cannot endure jests, others so dull that they can bear
nothing that is not sharp ; while others are as fearful of any-
thing gay or lively, as a man bit by a mad dog is of water ;
others are so light and unsettled, that their thoughts change
with every movement of the body. Some, when they meet
in taverns pass censures over their cups upon all writers,
and with a supercilious liberty condemn everything they do
not like, in which they have an advantage, like a bald man
who can catch hold of another by the hair, while the other
cannot do the same by him. They are safe as it were from
gun-shot, since there is nothing in them solid enough to be
taken hold of. Others are so thankless that even when
they are well pleased with a book, they think they owe
nothing to the author, and are like those rude guests, who
having been well entertained at a good dinner, when they
74 More and his Friends.
have satisfied their appetites, go away without thanking
him that treated them. But who would charge himself
with making a feast for men of such nice palates who are
so forgetful of the civility paid them. But do you clear
up these points with Raphael, and then it will be time to
consider whether it be fit to publish it or not, for since I
have been at the pains to write it, if he consents to its being
published, I will follow my friend's advice and chiefly
yours.
" Farewell, my dear Peter, commend me kindly to your
good wife, and love me still as you used to do, for I assure
you I love you daily more and more."
75
CHAPTER VI.
AMBASSADOR AND STATESMAN.
IT was during the five years in which More was engaged in
embassies on the Continent that many of the interesting
letters given in the last chapter were written by himself
or his friends. He had spent, with how great unwilling-
ness, several passages in these letters have shown the reader,
much time both in France and in the Netherlands, the Low
Countries forming part of the possessions of the great
Emperor Charles V.
Henry loved nothing better than to be attended by More
during the Royal progresses, and at Oxford and Cambridge,
where he was received with eloquent Latin orations, he was
the man appointed by his Majesty to reply to them ex
tempore. When he accompanied Henry to France to meet
the French King, and the monarchs embraced each other
in a hollow friendship at the tedious splendours of the
Field of Cloth of Gold, More was employed to make the
speech of congratulation ; and when the Emperor Charles
V. landed in England to visit his aunt, Queen Catharine,
his welcome was so eloquent and graceful as to excite the
admiration of the Emperor as well as of his foreign attend-
ants. Amongst his other virtues we must notice the
generosity and meekness of this great man, it not unfre-
quently happened that those who entered into learned dis-
putations with him had the worst part of the argument, and
7 6 Sir Thomas More as
it was then his custom, when he perceived this, to wittily
turn the subject and discourse on some other matter, indeed
so great was his love of learning that he rather preferred
that others should deem him worsted than discourage
scholars in their studies. The next step in the way of
worldly promotion was the Chair of the House of Com-
mons. The real object for calling the Parliament which
met in April, 1523, was to obtain money. Henry, follow-
ing the example of his father, had governed during eight
years without the aid of the great council of the nation, but
his necessities now compelled him to summon a parliament
Very much depended on the Speaker, for he not only had
great influence with the assembly, as he was their president,
but was also wont to take part in their discussions. With
the Commons themselves the choice of the Speaker rested,
but in reality it was dictated by the Court, and at this time
Sir Thomas was chosen from the fact of his being so popular,
and from his having had a part in the administration of
Wolsey, who as yet had not been liable to much exception.
The Commons testified the greatest delight by the recom-
mendation, and presented their favourite More as Speaker
to the King whilst sitting on his throne in the Upper House.
But More's modesty and love of retirement made him at-
tempt to disqualify himself, and he cited the story of
Phormio the philosopher, who desired Hannibal to come
and hear his lectures, and so, when the latter consented
Phormio began to read the Redi Militari of chivalry, where-
upon Hannibal called the philosopher an arrogant fool to
presume to teach him, who was already master of chivalry,
and of all the arts of war, and so, quoth Sir Thomas :
" If I should presume to speak before his majesty of lear-
Ambassador and Statesman. 77
ning, and the well ordering of the Government, or such like
matters ; the King, who is so deeply learned, might say to
one, as Hannibal to Phormio, and so I do beseech your
Majesty to order the Commons to choose another Speaker."
The Chancellor by the King's command replied
" His Majesty, by long experience of your service, is well
acquainted with your wit, learning, and discretion, and be-
lieveth the Commons have chosen the fittest person amongst
them to be their Speaker."
More, then seeing it was useless to attempt to decline the
honourable office, made the following speech. It is copied
from the original MS., and is curious as an authentic speci-
men of the state in which the English language then was,
and the kind of oratory that prevailed.*
" Sith I perceive, most redoubted Sovereign that it stands
eth not with your pleasure to reform this election and
cause it to be changed, but have by the mouth of the Most
Reverend Father in God, the Legate, your Highness's Chan-
cellor, thereunto given your most royal assent, and have of
your benignity determined far above that I may bear for
this office to repute me meet, rather than that you should
impute it to your Commons that they had incorrectly chosen,
I am ready obediently to conform myself to the accomplish-
ment of your Highness's pleasure and commandment.
" I dare to beg a favourable construction on all my own
words and actions, and favour for the plain and homely
speech as well as privilege for the Commons.
" Much care has been taken to elect men of discretion
according to the exigency of the writs.
" Whereby it is not to be doubted but there is a very sub-
* Campbell.
^8 Sir Thomas More as
tantial assembly of right wise, meet, and politique persons;
yet, most precocious Prince, sith among so many wise men,
neither is every man wise alike, nor among so many alike
well witted, every man well spoken ; and it often happeth
that as much folly is uttered with pointed polished speech,
so many boistrous and rude in language give right sub-
stantial counsel ; and sith also in matters of great importance
the mind is often so occupied in the matter that a man rather
studieth what to say, than how : by reason whereof the
wisest man and best speaker in the whole country fortuneth ,
when his mind is fervent in the matter, somewhat to speak
in such wise as he would afterwards wish to have been
uttered otherwise, and yet no worse will had when he spake
it, than he had when he would so gladly change it. There-
fore, most generous Sovereign, considering that in your High
Court of Parliament is nothing treated but matter of weight
and importance concerning your realm and your own royal
estate, it could not fail to put to silence from the giving of their
advice and counsel many of your discreet Commons, to the
great hindrance of your common affairs, unless every one of
your Commons were utterly discharged of all doubt and
fear how any thing that it should happen them to speak
should happen of your Highness to be taken. And on this
point, though your well known and proved benignity putteth
every man in good hope, yet such is the weight of the
matter, such is the reverend dread that the timorous hearts
of your natural subjects conceive towards your Highness,
our most redoubted King and undoubted Sovereign, that
they cannot in this point find themselves satisfied, except
your gracious bounty therein declared put away the scruple
of their timorous minds, and put them out of doubt. It
Ambassador and Statesman. 79
may therefore like your most abundant Grace to give to all
your Commons here assembled, your most gracious licence
and pardon freely, without doubt of your dreadful displeasure
every man to discharge his conscience, and boldly in every
thing incidental among us to declare his advice ; and what-
soever happeneth any man to say, that it may like your noble
Majesty, of your inestimable goodness, to take all in good
part, interpreting every man's words, how uncunningly how-
ever they may be avouched, to proceed yet of good zeal
towards the profit of your realm and honour of your royal
person; and the prosperous state and preservation whereof,
most exultant Sovereign, is the thing which we, all your
Majesty's humble loving subjects, according to the most
bounden duty of our national allegiance, most highly desire
and pray for."
More has been blamed for servility for this speech, but
the phrases addressed to the king are only in accordance
with the habit of the times in which he lived ; and Sir
Thomas evinced no cowardly feeling when he craved liberty
of speech, while he levelled a few hits at the country squires
over whom he was placed.
At this Parliament Wolsey felt himself much aggrieved at
the independent spirit shewn by the Commons, and com-
plained that nothing could be said or done in either House,
but that it was at once made the subject of discourse in
every road-side ale-house.
A subsidy of the enormous sum of ^800,000 had been
demanded for the purposes of war, to the amazement of the
Commons, who declared it to be more than the current coin
of the whole realm ; and, enraged at their tardy compliance,
and trusting to overcome them by his presence, Wolsey
8o Sir Thomas More as
resolved to go to the House himself with his accustomed
lordly retinue. He had complained of breach of privilege
in publishing parliamentary debates, and the wit of More
made him resolve that the future blame should lay only with
his followers.
" My masters," said he, "the Cardinal hath lately laid to
our charge, the lightness of our tongues for things uttered
out of this House, and in my mind it will not be amiss to
receive him with all his pomp, his maces, his poleaxes, his
pillars, his cross, his hat, and the Great Seal, to the intent
that if he find the like fault with us again, we may lay the
blame on those whom his Grace bringeth with him."
To this advice the House agreed, and the Cardinal was
received accordingly, and exerted all his powers of eloquence
to prove how necessary it was that the demand should be
granted, and proceeded to shew that a smaller sum would
not serve the prince's purposes.
All the members, however, remained in their seats, and
observing an obstinate silence answered not a word, and
seeing no intention on their part to grant his request, he
added
" Masters, you have amongst you many wise and learned
men, and sith I am from the King's own person, sent hither
for the preservation of yourselves and all the realm, I think
it but meet you should give me a reasonable answer. " Still,
however, every man held his peace when he addressed him-
self to one Marney, afterwards Lord Marney."
"How say you, Master Marney," he exclaimed, "but
Marney also was silent, and the Cardinal, in no little vexa-
tion of spirit, then addressed himself one by one to those
who were the most influential, and considered the wisest of
Ambassador and Statesman. 81
the assembly, but none of them answered a word, they
having of one accord agreed before to reply only by the
mouth of their Speaker."
"Masters," then said the Cardinal, " unless it be the man-
ner of your House, as very likely it be, by the mouth of your
Speaker, whom you have chosen for trusty and wise (as in-
deed he is) in such cases to utter your minds, here is without
doubt a marvellous obstinate silence." Then requiring answer
of the Speaker, More reverently kneeling, according to the
custom of the times, excused the silence of the House,
abashed at the presence of so noble a personage, who was
able to manage the most learned and wisest in the realm ;
then More went on to prove that for them to make reply
was neither expedient nor agreeable with the ancient liberty
of the House, showing in the end that, though they had all
with their voices trusted him, that except they could put in
his one head all their individual wits, he alone in so weighty
a matter was quite unable to reply to His Grace's demands
until he had received their instructions."
"Thereupon," says the old biographer, "the Cardinal de-
parted in a rage, much displeased with Sir Thomas, who had
thus frustrated his wishes. To the indignation of the King
and himself the matter was adjourned from day to day, and
Wolsey again repaired to the House ; they listened to what
he had to say, and finally made a grant not at all equivalent
to the exorbitant demand which had been made them, but
which they were compelled to pay at once, contrary to former
customs.
Wolsey did not conceal his anger, for when he met More
in the gallery at Whitehall, he exclaimed,
" Would to God you had been at Rome, Master More,
G
82 Sir Thomas More as
when I made you Speaker." " Your Grace not offended,"
replied More, with his usual calmness, " so would I too, my
lord, for then I should have seen the place I long have
desired to visit ;" adding, to give a turn to the subject, "This
gallery of yours, my lord, pleaseth me much better than
your other at Hampton Court."
Roper, however, charges the Cardinal with endeavouring
to remove More out of his way, by advising the King to send
him as his ambassador to Spain, recommending him for his
learning, wisdom and discretion. More, however, had no
desire to be promoted in this fashion, and begged him to
excuse him on the plea that the climate of Spain disagreed
with him, though, he added, he was still ready to do his
Majesty's pleasure, to which the King replied, " It is not our
pleasure, Master More, to do you hurt, but to do you good
we would he glad ; we will therefore employ you otherwise."
We must add, however, to the credit of Wolsey, that the
Cardinal soon overcame his anger, for when the session was
concluded he wrote the following letter to Henry, for the.
usual reward of ^"200 to the Speaker.*
WOLSEY TO HENRY VIII.
"I have shown the bearer, Sir Thomas More, divers matters
to declare to your Grace.
"It has been usual, even when the Parliament is right soon
finished, to give the Speaker a reward of ^100 for his house-
hold, besides the ;ioo ordinary.
" Your Grace is aware of the faithful diligence of More, in
the late Parliament, about the subsidy, so that no man could
* State Papers.
Ambassador and Statesman. 83
deserve it better. I will, therefore, cause the sum to be
advanced on learning your Grace's pleasure.
" I am the rather moved to put your Highness in mind
thereof, because he is not the most ready to speak and
solicit his own cause."
" Hampton Court, 24th August."
It is certain, however, that there was a great jealousy on
the part of the Cardinal, after he had been thwarted by the
keenness of the Chancellor of the Duchy ; yet there was never
anything approaching to an open rupture between them, for
nothing could bear down the calmness of More. The
Cardinal once showed him the draft of a treaty with two
of the continental powers, asking his opinion, and pressing
him to say " whether there were anything to be misliked."
Sir Thomas, misled by his apparent sincerity, was taken off
his guard, and imagining that he really did desire his advice,
pointed out some great blunders which occurred in it. His
astonishment may be imagined, when starting up in a fit of
anger, Wolsey exclaimed,
" By the mass, thou art the veriest fool of all the council "
" God be thanked," replied More, with his usual equani-
mity, " that the King, our master, hath but one fool in his
council.*'
The fascinating charm of More's conversation, his
engaging and lively manners, and ready flow of wit and
humour, endeared him to Henry, who with his queen, not
only coveted his company at the palace during the evening
hours, but he was even wont on certain occasions to throw
aside the etiquette of royalty, and steal on Sir Thomas in
his domestic privacy at Chelsea.
Without any previous warning or notice of his intention,
84 Sir Thomas More as
he would come and dine with him ; and after dinner, in the
pleasant summer evening, would enjoy a ramble in the gar-
den, where with his arm thrown around the neck of More,
with the affection of a son or a brother, the monarch would
abandon himself to the pleasure of unrestricted friendly in-
tercourse.
On one of these occasions after the departure of Henry,
his son-in-law, Roper, spoke with delight of the King having
manifested his partiality for him in a more pointed manner
than he had seen him do with any ether man, unless it might
be the Cardinal, with whom he had been once seen to walk
arm in arm."
" 1 thank our lord, son Roper," replied he, " I find his
Grace, my very good lord indeed, and I believe he doth as
singularly favour me as any other within the realm. How-
beit, son Roper, I may tell thee I have no cause to be proud,
for if my head would win him a castle in France, it should
no 1 : fail to go."
This anecdote is told by Roper himself, and clearly shows
the penetration of More, aided by the opportunities which
unrestricted freedom of intercourse gave him of being present
with the King, when he was off his guard, and not en-
deavouring to throw a mask over his real character, enabled
him to read his disposition, such as it really was. Doubtless
the wisdom of More discovered that beneath this show of
outward affability and good temper there lurked an innate
selfishness and cruelty, which, were he thwarted would break
through all restraints, so that he would not scruple to crush
the offender, however dear he might previously have been to
him. For a time however, More was in a manner necessary
to the happiness of the capricious and despotic Henry.
Ambassador and Statesman. 85
It must have been during one of these familiar visits of the
king at More's house that Holbein, the painter, was intro-
duced to him by Sir Thomas ; the latter had been anxiously
longing to see Erasmus in England, he having been often
prevented from coming in consequence of the prevalence of
the sweating sickness. He then wrote to him with much
earnestness for his picture, and Erasmus, who desired to for-
ward the interests of Holbein, the painter, who, though a
great master of his art, had at Basle but small encourage-
ment, yielded to More's request, sat for the portrait, and
sent Holbein over with it, giving him letters of recommen-
dation to his friend.
Holbein, however, lingered so long at Antwerp, that he
reached England in a state of destitution, having literally
almost begged his way thither.
Sir Thomas received him with the warmest welcome, and
kept him in his house nearly three years, during which time
he drew the portraits of his kind patron and his family.
Sir Thomas having enriched his house with Holbein's
productions, adopted the following method of introducing
him to the King. He invited Henry to an entertainment
and hung up all Holbein's pieces in the great hall of his
mansion. The King upon his first entrance was so charmed
with the sight, that he asked Sir Thomas if the artist who
had given such expression and life to his paintings were
now living, and if so, was he to be had for money ; on which
Sir Thomas at opce introduced him to the King, who imme-
diately engaged him for his own service.
In the few letters that we are now about to give, it may
be easily gathered how weary his spirit must have grown of
the political intrigues in which he was compelled to bear a
86 Sir Thomas More as
part, in the discharge of his irksome duty cf ambassador
and politician ; and his frank and upright spirit must often
have shrunk within itself at the hypocritical deceit and
artifice in which he was made to join.
Many, perhaps, of those who may glance over these pages
will turn aside from the dry details of state matters with
which the following letters are filled, whilst others will gladly
peruse them, and smile at the chicanery and artifice which
they reveal, the three several courts of England, France, and
Germany endeavouring to outvie and outwit each other.
The following letters, it will be observed, must have been
written when More was with the court in England, sad in
spirit at his absence from his Chelsea home.
SIR T. MORE TO CARDINAL WOLSEY.
" My Singular Good Lord I was commanded last night
by the king to deliver to your servant, Forest, a complaint
sent to him by the men of Waterford against the town of
New Ross, in Ireland, for disturbing them in the use of a
grant of prize wines, made to them by the king's progenitors.
The king remembers the men of Waterford in the rebellion
against his father, and that there is a great grudge against
them in Ireland, so that they cannot resort to those parts
where the laws are administered for fear of the wild Irish.
He wishes you to examine it in the Star Chamber, or commit
it to some justices. When I, on my return, spoke to the
King, his grace was very glad that you retained your health
notwithstanding your continued labour, of which I know
more than those who only see you at Westminster. He
saith, < that you may thank his counsel thereof, by which ye
Ambassador and Statesman. 87
leave the often taking of medicines that ye were wont to use,
and while ye do so, he saith, ye shall not fail of health.'"
"5 July,
SIR THOMAS TO CARDINAL WOLSEY.
" My Singular Good Lord This Wednesday, the ambas-
sador of the King of Castile declared certain news on his
master's behalf, and the King desires you to devise letters
of thanks. The ambassador has asked his advice of the
King of Castile, ' concerning the matter of the last Diet, in
which the great Master of France deceased,' and for letters
of credence to declare the same, but the King thinks it better
his advice should be communicated by letter ; he wishes you
to know that he told the ambassador he would persevere in
his amity to Charles, but if the latter should do anything
contrary to the amity between him and the French king,
he will ' think himself bounden to regard the friendship of
none earthly man so highly as his oath given to God.' The
ambassador rode from court after dinner, and will be with
you shortly.
0kyng,*6 July."
SIR T. MORE TO CARDINAL WOLSEY.
" My Singular Good Lord Yesterday the King received
a letter from his Vice Admiral, dated i4th Aug., and is very
well satisfied with the proceedings. He agrees with your grace
as to the war ships to be sent under Sir Anthony Pointz,
and is satisfied with your answer to the imperial ambassador
and thinks that the Emperor should not allow any safe-
conduct for traffic between his subjects and France. One
Thomas Murner, a Franciscan friar, who wrote in defence
* Oklngham, or Wokingham, Berkshire.
38 Sir Thomas More as
of the King against Luther, is come over to England, having
been told by a simple fellow that the King wished to see him.
The King desires out of pity that he should return, for he is
one of the chief stays against the faction of Luther, and re-
quests your grace to pay him ;ioo. The same simple
person has now brought with him to England a baron's
litters from Duke Ferdinand, desiring a pension for the
Duke of Mecklenburgh. He boasted that he was the King's
servant, and now says he is in the service of the Emperor's
Majesty, but the King does not know him, and he wishes the
advice of your Grace on these points.
The King has ordered that besides my fee of ;ioo as
Speaker, I shall receive ;ioo out of the Exchequer."
" Eastharnpstead, 26 Aug.
" To my Lord Legate's good Grace."
SIR T. MORE TO CARDINAL WOLSEY.
" My Singular Good Lord I have received your grace's
letter, dated 31 Aug., with letters from the Lord Admiral,
and the copies of those between his lordship and the Queen
of Scots, with your grace's reply .to them. I read them all to
the King, who well liked them, especially that written in his
name to the Queen of Scots. I hever saw him like thing
better, and, so help me God, in my poor fantasy, not cause-
less, for it is, for the quantity, one of the best made letters,
for words, matter, sentence, and couching that ever I read in
my life.
"The King is glad that your grace 'touched' the
Admiral and Dacre, ' for letting of the great roode,' contrary
to your advice, for it would have been productive of some
good, as appears by the Queen's letter ; and ha notes ' not
Ambassador and Statesman. 89
only remiss dealing, but also some suspicion,' in that Dacre
so little esteemed the Queen's opinion. He is of your
grace's mind that the Admiral should set forth his enterprise
at once, as he is not satisfied with his excuses. I also read
to the King your grace's letter to Dr. Knight, touching the
money for the 10,000 lances. He approves your foresight
in doubting lest this delay is only a device of the Emperor
to spare his own charge, and entertain the Almains at the
King's cost. I also read your letter to Sampson and Jerning-
ham, advertising them of the setting forth of the King's army,
also the letters in the King's name to Don Fernando, the
Duke of Mecklenburgh, and the Duke of Ferrara, in case
the last accept the Order of the Garter. The King said he
perceived what great labours your grace had taken, when the
only reading of these papers held him more than two
hours."
" Okyng, i Sept."
"To my Lord Legate."
SIR T. MORE TO CARDINAL WOLSEY.
" My Singular Good Lord I have received your letter of
the 2 Sep., and the congratulatory letter to the Duke of
Venice, drawn up by your grace for the King, who has signed
it and sends it back, announcing ' his substantial draught
and ornate device therein/ I also read your letter to his grace
which his highness gladly heard, and said your grace
deserved more thanks than he could give you. He was glad
you were pleased with the venison he sent you, and wished
it had been much better."
" Okyng, 3 Sep."
go Sir Thomas More as
SIR T. MORE TO CARDINAL WOLSEY.
"I have received your grace's letter of the 4th, and those
from Suffolk to the King, with a letter of Lady Margaret to
the same; I read them all to the King, who was well pleased
with your grace's politic counsel, and were it not for the
plague raging at Calais, he would not be in haste to remove
his army out of his own pale into the enemy's frontier, but
as the plague is so fervent, his highness resolves to follow
your counsel. He requests your grace to write to Suffolk,
thank him for his endeavors and advertise him of the King's
and your opinion that he should march diligently out of the
English pale, but without letting the enemy know his inten-
tions, until he be joined by the Burgundians, whose coming
your grace is to accelerate by letters to the Lady Margaret,
in your prudent manner. Suffolk is then to turn suddenly on
Boulogne. I am grateful that my services are so well liked
by your grace."
" Okyng, 5 Sep."
SIR T. MORE TO CARDINAL WOLSEY.
" Last night, after supper, I presented to the King Suffolk's
letter to your grace, Iselstein's letters to Suffolk and the King,
and your letter to myself, dated n Sept. Notwithstanding
the reasons of Lord Iselstein and Lady Margaret and the
Emperor's opinion, the King is resolved to have the siege
of Boulogne experimented, for reasons stated by your grace.
He is not content to have all the preparations for that
purpose set aside and his army sent into a distant land to be
dependent for provisions to those ' of whose slackness and
hard handling ' he has had proof already."
Ambassador and Statesman. 91
His Grace saith that your Grace hit the nail on the head
when ye write that the Burgundians would be upon their
own frontiers to the end our money should be spent among
them, and their frontiers defended and themselves resort to
their houses.' Touching defence of the Low Countries, the
King says that, if all things be well ordered they will have no
cause to fear for the reasons mentioned by your grace. He
requests you to advertise Suffolk and Iselstein of his resolu-
tion, and I will send the letter to the Venetian ambassador
as soon as the King has leisure to sign it"?
"Okyng, 1 2 Sep., 1523."
" To my Lord Legate."
SIR T. MORE TO CARDINAL WOLSEY.
"My Singular Good Lord I have received your letters of
yesterday and six others devised by you, addressed to noble-
men of the Emperor's army, which I return signed. Yesterday,
the king received a letter from my Lord of Shrewsbury^
enclosed, dated the 8th, but containing nothing new, excep-
ting that as the King's ordnance could not pass over Staynes
More, towards Carlisle, the council then determined that my
lord and his company should invade Scotland by the East
Marches, till they met the Duke on his return from the west
borders to Edinburgh, unless they were compelled to relieve
Dacre at Carlisle. This was not likely, as he had 20,000
men with him, whose coming the Lord Steward considered
timely. I wrote by the King's command to the Lord Steward
that the King had great doubts, and thought the division of
his army impolitic, as either of the two portions might have
to face the whole enemy ; but left it to his discretion. The
King hoped that his lack of money was relieved by the ar-
92 Sir Thomas More as
rival of the .10,000, and of the ^6,500 afterwards sent by
yourself which, with the proceeds of the loan should be
sufficient; and that the army would not hesitate to advance a
day's journey or two when assured that the money was on
the way, as they were free from the taxes imposed elsewhere,
and assured him that he should have money whenever he
wanted it. I have given the substance of my letter from
memory, as the King caused it to be delivered immediately
* to my said lord's servant tarrying, and incessantly calling
for it.'
Newhall, 14 Sep."
" Add : My Lord Legate's good Grace."
SIR T. MORE TO CARDINAL WOLSEY.
" I have received your letters dated the iQth, with a minute
" of a letter to be written by the King to the Emperor,
instructions for the King's ambassadors there, letters from
Pace and two letters by you, devised ' for the gentleman of
Spruce,' (Prussia). I read to the King the same morning
the letters 'which it liked your grace to write to me, in
which it mych liked his grace that your grace so well liked
and approved his opinion concerning the overtures made by
the French king unto the Emperor.' After your grace's said
letter read when he saw of your grace's own hand, tjiat I
should diligently solicit the expedition of those other things,
for as mych as your grace intended and would gladly des-
patch the post this present Sunday, his Grace laughed, and
said, ' Nay, by my soul that will not be, for this is my
removing day; at Newhall I will read the remnant at night'
" After the King had returned and dined, I attended him
at six o'clock at night, when he signed the letters to the
Ambassador and Statesman. 93
Emperor, and for the gentleman at (Spruce), and put off the
rest till this morning. On leaving I received a letter from
your grace, addressed to the King, with which I forthwith
returned into his chamber, where his Grace read openly my
Lord Admiral's letter to the Queen's grace, which marvel-
lously rejoiced in the good news, and especially in that, that
the French king should be now towards a tutor, and his realm
to have a governor. In the communication whereof, which
lasted about an hour, the King's grace said, ' that he trusted
in God to be their governor himself, and that they should by
this means make -a way for him, as King Richard did for his
father.' I pray God, if it be good for his grace, and for this
realm, that then it may prove so, and else in the stead thereof,
I pray God send his Grace an honourable and profitable
peace. I read the King this morning your grace's prudent
and eloquent instructions, for which I return hearty thanks.
In the instructions he would have introduced a clause,
touching the Emperor's leaving Milan, to the French king,
only that your grace, could, as he said, ' better furnish it and
set it forth.' He thinks the Venetians are only waiting to
see which way the world goes."
11 The King wishes your grace to look to one Dodo, a
Venetian, who, under the pretence of being a denizen, is
sending out of the realm the goods of others, his country-
men." " Sunday, 20 Sept.
" To my Lord Legate's good Grace."
SIR T. MORE TO CARDINAL WOLSEY.
" I have received a packet containing your grace's letter
to myself, dated 12 Sep. ; two letters of Sir John Russell, and
a copy of the letter of Chastean to the Imperial Ambassador
94 Sir Thomas More as
here, all which I read to the King. He is of opinion that
Bourbon could not do other than dissemble his purpose, and
is not likely to be reconciled to the French King. He is
glad that he was deceived in his fears, lest the French King
might have perceived this practice with Bourbon, which it is
clear he does not, ' for if he had, he would either not have
come into his house, or not so departed thence.' As it is
now in so many men's mouths, he is afraid it will not long
be kept secret, and if the French King suspected it, the
Duke might be suddenly distressed, and the whole matter
fail. ' He thinks, Sir John Russell might be used to advertise
the Duke that many people in Flanders know of it, and the
King deems it right to warn and put him on his guard ; ad-
vising him either to declare himself or provide for his safety.
' He thinks the intelligence about Guienne is a mere excuse.'
1 He is of your grace's opinion that for any solicitation of
Lady Margaret and the Emperor, no money be dispensed
till the declaration is made.'"
SIR T. MORE TO CARDINAL WOLSEY.
" The King has received the letter of your grace by the
hands of Sir John Russell ' of whose well achieved errand
his Grace taketh great pleasure,' containing your advice for
abandoning at present the siege of Boulogne, and to march
to some places devised by the Duke of Bourbon, which your
grace has been informed may easily be taken. The King is
by no means displeased that you have changed your opinion,
* as his highness esteemeth nothing in counsel more perilous
than for one to persevere in the maintenance of his advice,
because he hath once given it.' He therefore commendeth
Ambassador and Statesman. 95
and most affectiously thanketh your faithful diligence and
high wisdom ' in advertising him of the reasons which have
moved you to change your mind.' "
Then follow many considerations which Henry submits
to Wolsey, after which continues Sir Thomas :
" The King thinks you should send a good round letter
to Lady Margaret, taxing her with slackness in the common
affairs. He says that such dealing so often used, may well
give him cause hereafter to be cautious, ere he undertake
.any charge for their defence."
"Abingdon, 21 Sep."
" To my Lord Legate's good Grace."
SIR T. MORE TO CARDINAL WOLSEY.
"After the King had supped I read him your grace's letter
to myself, two letters of the Queen of Scots, directed to
the King, two directed to Surrey, and two written by your
grace in the King's name to the Queen herself. As in
reading Lord Surrey's letter to your grace, ' the King noted
that my said lord had already written unto the Queen of
Scots answer unto both her letters, his Grace requireth yours,
that it may like you to send him the copies which his letters
specifieth to have sent unto your grace. He thinks that the
Homes and Douglas should be received as suitable
hostages, and attempts made to win the Chancellor and
other lords from the Duke. He also wishes to see your
instructions to Surrey, and that he should be advertised of
the declaration of the Duke of Bourbon, and the same be
inserted, with exaggeration of the French King's tyranny,
in ths letter which the Queen of Scots is to shew to the
\
9 6 Sir Thomas More as
lords. The King requires your grace to consider well that
clause in the Queen's letter in which she desires to be
received in England."
"Woodstock, 22 Sep."
" To my Lord Legate."
SIR T. MORE TO CARDINAL WOLSEY.'
" I have received and presented to the King your grace's
letter to himself, and copies of Surrey's letters to the Queen
of Scots, for all which the King sends your grace most
hearty thanks, and has signed the letters devised by you to
the Queen, his sister."
"Woodstock, 24 Sep."
SIR T. MORE TO CARDINAL WOLSEY.
" After the King had supped I presented him your grace's
letter to myself, dated yesterday, with letters of the Queen
of Scots to Surrey. The King is glad that Surrey now
perceives that 'the lords of Scotland intend but only to
drive over the time of their annoyance,' the King would have
been glad if Surrey had perceived this before. He does not
like that Surrey, in his letter written to the Queen, to be
shewn to the lords of Scotland, ' appointeth them the time
and place where they shall send to him to Jedworth/ as the
Scots will thus be prepared. The King is sorry for the
plagues and agues which have befallen the army, and thinks
it must be supplied with horsemen of those parts. I should
be very unkind and blind if I did not perceive the gracious
favours that your grace has done me with the king,
" Woodstock, 26 Sep."
"To my Lord Legate."
Ambassador and Statesman. 97
" My Singular Good Lord Yesterday I came to the King
who was very glad to hear of your good health. His Grace
was surprised at my telling him you had sent no word by
John Joachim.
" ' No word,' quoth he, 'I marvel at it, for John Joachim
had a servant come to him two days ago.' I replied that
you had despatched me yesterday afternoon with letters from
Knight and Pace, and wished to have them back to shew to
Joachim, ' for the contents be such as will do him little
pleasure.' I read all the letters and commented on them to
the Queen, who said she was glad that the Spaniards had
done something in Italy in return for their departure from
Provence. I said you thought Francis would lose in his
estimation, finding his enemies strong, being twice repulsed
at Pavia, and disappointed of the money he expected at
Milan, and that Louise will have to send for him back again.
The King laughed, and said he thought it would be hard for
him to get thence.
" To Knight's letter he said not much, but that if Bewreyn
came he would be plain with him, if not, he desires you to
be very plain with him on imperial matters. He is glad to
find the affairs of Scotland are in a good train, and will be
sorry to have them ruffled by Angus ; he approves of your
advice to make Angus an instrument for the due management
of Scotland. I spoke about Mr. Burke, who I perceive has
promised the King not to marry without his advice, as he is
intended for one of the Queen's maidens.
" Hertford, Nov. 29.''
The following letter affords an amusing instance of the
sangfroid with which a lady's hand might be disposed of in
marriage by a Tudor sovereign :
H
98 Sir Thomas More /as Ambassador and Statesman.
SIR THOMAS TO CARDINAL WOLSEY.
" It may like your grace to be advertised that the Kins
Highness, going this night to his supper, called me to him
secretly, and commanded me to write to your grace; that as
it hath pleased our Lord to call to His mercy Mr. Myrfyn,
late alderman of London, his grace greatly desireth, on
account of the special favour which he beareth towards Sir
William Tyler, that he should have the widow of the late
alderman in marriage."
" For the furtherance whereof, his Highness, considering
your grace's well approved dexterity in bringing to pass what
he desireth, commanded me to advertise your grace that
his Highness requireth that it may like you to devise and
pursue the most effectual means by which his Grace's desire
may in this matter be brought about, and take effect;
wherein he saith you shall do him a right special favour; and
bind the said Sir William during his life to pray for your good
grace. This much hath his Highness commanded me to
write to you, whom both our Lord long preserve in honour
and health together."
"At Easthampstede, the xvii. day of September, Your
humble orator and much bounden bedesman,
"THOMAS MORE."
99
CHAPTER VII.
FRIENDS AT HOME AND ABROAD.
THE many estimable qualities which adorned both the
public and private character of Sir Thomas More, gained
him the love and affection of all who came within the range
of his influence, and as letters given, as far as possible, in
extenso (and the greater portion, by far, of those printed in
this volume appear in their entirety), present the best key to
the character of him who wrote them, it is hoped they will
interest the reader. To Cuthbert Tunstal, Bishop of
Durham, he was tenderly attached. The following letters will
shew how strict was the bond of friendship that united the
two :
" Although every letter which I receive from you, most
dear friend, is very grateful unto me, yet that which you last
wrote was most welcome, for besides the other commenda-
tions which the rest of your letters deserve in respect of
their eloquence, and the friendship they profess towards me,
this last of yours possesses peculiar grace, for it continues
your peculiar testimony (I would it were as true as it is
favourable) of my ' Common Wealth.' I requested my
friend Erasmus to explain the matter to you in familiar talk ;
yet I charged him to press you not to read it hastily, not
because I would not have you to read it at all (for that is
my chief desire) but remembering your prudent purpose not
to take in hand the reading of any modern work until you
ioo Friends at Home and Abroad.
had fully satisfied yourselves with the works of ancient
authors, but if you remember the profit you have made of
what you have read, surely you have accomplished your
task, but if by affection, then you will never bring your pur-
pose to a perfect end.
"Thus I was afraid, that, seeing the excellent works of
others could not allure you to read them, you would never
be brought to condescend willingly to the perusal of my
trifling work, and surely you would never have read it but
that your love of me drove you to it more than the worth
of the thing itself.
" Therefore I give you exceeding thanks for reading so
diligently my Utopia, because you have for my sake bestowed
so much labour, and no less thanks truly do I give you that
my work hath pleased you, for not less do I attribute this to
your love, because I see you have rather testified to me
what your love suggested, than the authority of a censor.
However the matter may be, I cannot express how much I
rejoice that you have cast your whole account in liking my
doings, for I almost persuade myself that all you say is true,
knowing you to be far from all dissembling, and myself more
mean than that you should need to flatter me, and more dear
to you than that I should expect disguise ; so, whether you
have seen the truth unfeignedly, I rejoice heartily in your
judgment, or if your affection for me hath blinded your
judgment, I am none the less delighted in your love, and
truly great and extraordinary must that love be that could
deprive Tunstal of his judgment."
Again to the same, he writes :
" You deal very courteously with me in giving me, in your
letter, such hearty thanks, because I have been careful to
Friends at Home and Abroad. 101
defend the causes of your friends, exaggerating the small
good turn I have done you therein, by your great bounty,
bat you think too lightly of the love which is between us
if you imagine you are indebted to me for anything I have
done, and do not rather challenge it to be of right due to
yourself. The amber which you sent me being a precious
sepulchre of flies, was for many respects most welcome, for
the ma.ter may be compared in colour and brightness to a
precious stone, and the form is excellent, because it represen-
teth the figure of a heart, as it were the hieroglyphic of our
love, which I interpret as your meaning, that between us it
will never fly away, and yet be always without corruption,
because I see the fly (which hath wings like Cupid, the son of
Venus, and is as fickle as he) so shut up in this amber that
it cannot fly away, and so embalmed that it cannot perish.
I am not at all troubled that I cannot send you the like gift,
for I know you do not expect any change of tokens, and I
am willing to be still in your debt, but it troubleth me a little
that my state and condition is so mean that I am never able
to shew myself worthy of your singular friendship, so that I
cannot give testimony myself before others. You must be
satisfied, therefore, with my own expressions of affection,
and your gentle acceptance of the same."
His dedication of one of his works to the same Bishop
runs as follows :
" When I considered, dear Tunstal, to which of my friends
I should dedicate these, my collections out of many authors,
I thought it most due to you, on account of the familiar
conversations which for a long time hive passed between us,
as also for your sincerity, because you would always be ready
to take thankfully whatever seems good to you in this work,
102 Friends at Home and Abroad.
and whatever should be worthless you would place a courteous
construction on, and what was displeasing you would be
willing to pardon."
To the intense grief of Sir Thomas, this Bishop went the
same way as the rest in the reign of Henry VIII. ; he lived
to see Queen Elizabeth on the throne, to whom he had stood
godfather, and witnessing her persecution of the members
of the Catholic church, he carne up from Durham in his
old age, and strongly admonished her not to throw off her
religion, warning her she would lose God's blessing if she
did so.
The iron-hearted Queen was of course ill pleased with his
admonitions, and ordered him to be cast into prison, with
others of the Bishops, in which prison he died as a confessor
of the faith, atoning thus for his schism in the time of her
father.
The love of More for the great Fisher, Bishop of Roches-
ter, continued with the bitter, or rather, to them, may we not
write, glorious end. Two of their letters run as follows.
The good Bishop writes :
" I pray you, dear More, allow our Cambridge men to
have some hope that through you they may be favoured by
the King's Majesty, that our scholars may be stirred up to
learning by the countenance of so worthy a prince. We
have few friends in the Court who can, or will commend
our cause to his royal highness, and amongst them we account
you the chief, for you have always favoured us greatly, even
when you were in a meaner place ; now then, shew what you
can do, raised as you are to the honour of knighthood, and in
such great favour with the prince, at which we greatly
rejoice, and congratulate you on your happiness.
Friends at Home and Abroad. 103
"Give favour to this youth, who is both a good scholar in
divinity, and also a sufficient preacher to the people ; he
hopes in your favour that you will procure him great advance-
ment, and that your recommendation will help him to
notice."
Sir Thomas's reply was as follows :
" Respecting this Priest, Reverend Father, whom you
write to be suitable for a Bishopric, if he might have some
worthy suitor to speak for him to the King, I imagine that
I have so prevailed in his behalf that his majesty will be no
hindrance thereto. If I have any favour with the King ,
and truly it is but little, but whatsoever I have, I will employ
all I can in the service of your Fatherhood, and your
scholars, to whom I send constant thanks for their never
ending affection to myself, so often testified by their loving
letters. My house shall be open to them as if it were their
own.
" Farewell, worthy and most courteous prelate, and see
you continue to love me as you have hitherto done.''
To his friends Reginald Pole and Dr. Clement, a cele-
brated physician, whom he brought up in his own house, he
writes :
11 1 thank you much, my dear Clement, for your care of
my health and that of my children, also that you prescribe
in my absence what meats are to be avoided by us. And to
you, my friend, I render double thanks, both because you
have sent us in writing the advice of so good a physician
and also have procured the same for us from your mother, a
most excellent and noble matron, worthy of so great a son, so
as you do not seem more liberal of your counsel than in
bestowing on us the thing itself, concerning which you
104 Friends at Home and Abroad.
advise us. I love and praise you both for your bounty and
fidelity."
To Dr. Lee, afterwards Archbishop of York, he was a
firm friend, although he had written against his most dear
friend Erasmus's Annotations on the New Testament. He
writes him as follows :
" Good Lee, you request me not to suffer my regard for
you to be diminished, trust me it shall not, though of my-
self I incline rather to him who is impugned, and as I could
wish this city well free from your siege, so will I always love
you, and be glad you so much esteem my friendship."
Of Lupset, a great scholar of his time, he writes to
Erasmus :
" Our friend Lupset reads with great applause in both
languages at Oxford, having a great auditory, for he
succeedeth my John Clement in that charge."
To Croke, who was Henry VIII. 's master in the study of
Greek, he writes:
"Whosoever it was, my Crocus, who hath signified to you
that my love is lessened, because you have omitted a long
time to write to me, either deceives himself or strives to
deceive you, and although I have great comfort in reading
your letter, yet I am not so proud that I should challenge
such interest in you, as if it was your duty to salute me
every day in this way, nor so wayward nor full of complaint
as to be offended with you for neglecting a little this your
custom of writing, for I were indeed unjust if I exacted
letters from others when I know myself to be a sluggard in
writing them, so take this for granted, never hath my esteem
for you waxed so cold, that it needs to be kindled and heated
by the continual blowing of epistles to and fro, yet shall you
Friends at Home and Abroad. 105
do me a great pleasure by writing to me as often as you have
leisure, though I shall never urge you to devote that time in
writing to friends you have allotted to study or to your
scholars. As for the place you wish I should procure you,
both Pace and I, who esteem you much, have put the
King in mind of it."
To John Cochleus he writes as follows :
" It cannot be expressed, most worthy sir, how much I
am indebted to you for acquainting me of those occurrences
which happen in your country. Germany now daily bringeth
forth more monsters, yea, more prodigious things than Africa
was wont to do ; for what can be more monstrous than the
Anabaptists ; yet how have they risen forth and spread
for many years together. I, for my part, seeing these sects
daily increase, expect shortly to hear that there will arise
some who will not scruple to preach that Christ himself is
to be denied, neither can there arise so absurd a knave
but he shall have disciples, the madness of the people is so
great.*
* I would have you know, dear Cochleus, that I have not
received any letter from our friend these many years more
grateful than your last was to me, and this for many reasons ;
the first, that I see your sincere regard forme ; I was sure of
it before, but now I see it more perfectly, and I regard it as
a grest happiness, and esteem highly the favour of having
* In this letter he seems to see, as with the spirit of prophecy, David
George, the Hollander, who called himself Christ, and the Englishman,
Hackett, whose disciples were Ardea and Coppin^er. For this man's
madness and impiety, see " Camden's Hist." vol. 4, p. 450, and Collier's
" Ecclesiastical Hist ," vol. 2, p. 627.
io6 Friends at Home and Abroad.
such a friend ; and secondly, because you give me news of
the doings of many of the continental princes."
To the famous Budseus, one of the privy council to the
French King, he writes :
' I know not, my good Budaeus, whether it were good for
us to possess anything very dear, except we might always
keep it. I have imagined I should be a happy man, if I
couM but once see Budseus, whose beautiful picture, the
reading of his works represented to me. Just when God had
granted me my wish, it seemed to me I was more happy
than happiness itself; yet, afterwards our business was so
urgent, I could not gratify my desire often to enjoy your
sweet conversation, and our friendship was scarce began but
it was shortly ended, the affairs of our Prince's calling us from
each other, so that it is now hard to say whether we shall
again meet, each of us being forced to wait on our own
Prince, by how much the more joyful was our meeting, so
much the more deep was my sorrow in our parting, which
you may somewhat lessen, if you will please to make me
often present by your letters, yet dare I not urge you to send
them, though my desire to have them is very great"*
ERASMUS TO BUDAEUS.
I found many of my friends at the meeting of the Em-
peror at Bruges, among the rest " Non minus humanum
quam magnum, hoc est, non minus amandum quam reverandum
This letter is extracted, originially, from Stapleton's Vit. Th. Mori,
and is copied from More's Life of More, it bears no date, but Budseus
and More had not met each other when the following letter, dated 1521*
was written by Erasmus to Budseus ; it contains an interesting account
of More and his family,
Friends at Home and Abroad. 107
Cardinalum Eboracensem," * who was received by the Em-
peror with regal magnificence. Tunstal, More, Mountjoy,
and many others were also there. More was in great hopes
he should have found you at Calais in the French embassy.
" The arrival of the Cardinal was the more pleasant to me,
because I hoped that the heart-burnings amongst Princes
would be com posed Dy his wisdom and authority, but 1 know
not what to think as matters now stand. The Emperor and
the French King are not on good terms. More is now made
treasurer with a liberal salary. The King gave him the ap-
pointment in preference to another who would have taken
it without a salary, he has also made More a knight.
" Unmarried men are more easily advanced, but More is
so wedded to wedlock that nothing can emancipate him.
When he lost his first wife he married another, viduus viduam.
He has three daughters, the eldest who is named Margaret,
is just married to a young man (Roper) of good fortune and
unspotted morals, and with an inclination to learning.
More had all his daughters educated from their infancy ;
first paying great attention to their morals and then to their
learning. He brings up another girl as a companion to his
daughters. He has also a step-daughter, of great beauty and
genius, now married some years to a young man ' non indocto
sed cujus moribus nihil sit magis aureum."\ He has a son by
his former wife, aged thirteen, the youngest of his children.
He ordered them a year ago to write to me on their own
responsibility : the subject was not supplied, nor were any
corrections allowed. When they showed their father their
exercises, all he did was to have them fairly copied without
* The not less learned than great, not less amiable than venerable
Cardinal of York.
f Not unlearned, and of most excellent morals.
io8 Friends at Home and Abroad.
changing a syllable, and seal them and send them to me,
and I greatly admired them. They read Livy and similar
authors ; his wife, who is an excellent housewife, manages the
household; you complain that he has brought a scandal
upon learning, because it has entailed on him two evils ill
health, and ill husbandry. More, on the other hand, pro-
duces the opposite impression on me.
" He says that his health is the better for study, and that
he has more influence with the King, more popularity at
home and abroad, is more pleasant and useful to his friends
and relations, abler for the business of politics and life
generally, and more thankful (gratior} to heaven. It has been
said that learning is unfavourable to common sense ; there is
no greater reader than More, yet you will not find a man
who is more complete master of his faculties, on all occasions,
and with all persons, more accessible, more ready to oblige,
more quick-witted in conversation, or who combines so
much true prudence with such agreeable manners. His
influence has been such that there is scarce a nobleman in
the land who considers his children fit for their rank unless
they have been well educated, and learning has become
fashionable at court.
" I once thought with others, that learning was useless to
the female sex. More has quite changed my opinion. I
now think that nothing so completely preserves the modesty
or so sensibly employs the thoughts of young girls as learning.
By such employments they are kept from pernicious idleness
they imbibe noble precepts, and their minds are trained to
virtue. Many from simplicity and inexperience have lost
their chastity before they knew that such an inestimable
treasure was in danger, nor do I see why husbands should
fear lest a learned wife should be less obedient, except
friends at Home and Abroad. 109
they would exact from their wives what should not be ex-
acted from honest and virtuous dames.
"I think that nothing is more intractable than ignorance,
to say nothing of the fact that similarity of tastes and literary
inclinations are a much stronger bond of union between hus-
band and wife than mere sensual affection. I have heard
of women returning from church who wonderfully admired
the preacher, but could not repeat a word he had said, or
explain the course of his argument, while More's daughters,
and such as they, can form an opinion on what they have
heard, and discriminate between the good and the bad.
When I once told More that he would grieve more deeply if
he lost his daughters, after he had bestowed on them so much
care, he replied, ' he would rather they died learned than
unlearned ;' this put me in mind of Phocian's answer to his
wife, who lamented that her husband was to suffer innocently.
'Wife,' said he, 'Would it be better that I should die
guilty?'" "Antwerp, 1521."
The following letter to Archbishop Warham was written
to the latter by More, on his resignation of the Great Seal :
" I have always esteemed your most Reverend Fatherhood
happier in your courses, not only when you executed with
great praise the office of Chancellor, hut also more happy
now, when being rid of that care, you have betaken your-
self to a desirable quietude, the better to live to yourself
and to serve God more easily. Such repose is not only
more pleasing than worldly business, but in my opinion
more honourable than the honours you formerly enjoyed,
the greater the authority and power of one who has filled
the high office of Chancellor, the more numerous the
slanders he is exposed to, to resign such an office volun-
no friends at Home and Abroad.
tarily, none but a modest-minded man would, nor any but a
guiltless one dare do. Many, with myself, admire your
resolution, and 1 know not whether your humility is greater
that you would willingly forsake so magnificent a place, or
your spirit more heroic in that you continue it, or inno-
cent that you feared not to resign it, but most prudent were
you in doing so.
" I rejoice and congratulate you that you have obtained
so rare a happiness by sequestering yourself far from worldly
business, and tumult of Causes of others, so as to spend the
rest of your days with a peaceable conscience as to your
life past, and in quiet calmness and Christian philosophy,
which contented state of yours, my own misery maketh me
daily more and more to long for ; (he was then of the
Privy Council, Treasurer of the Exchequer, and employed
in many embassies). I am so troubled daily with business
that 1 have not leisure to visit you, or to excuse myself by
letter, indeed scarcely was I able to write this to you. I
commend my little book of Utopia to your Reverend
Fatherhood, which an Antwerpian friend of mine, love
swaying his judgment, hath printed without my knowledge,
which I am emboldened to send you, though it is unworthy
of your learning, relying on your courteous nature, also
trusting in your tried love to me, by which I hope though the
work in itself should not be cared for, that yet for the
author's sake you will like it. Farewell, most honourable
prelate."
Of Beatus Renanus, another scholar, he writes :
* I esteem Renanus much, and am greatly in his debt
for his Preface. I would have thanked him a long time ago,
but that I have been troubled with such a gout of the hand,
Friends at Home and Abroad. m
that is to say, idleness, that by no means could I over-
come it."
The learned Cranvilde, one of the Emperor Charles V.'s
Privy Council, was introduced to More by Erasmus ; he
thanks Erasmus, as follows, for this favour
" I cannot but thank you greatly with these my (rude)
letters (you the most learned in all sciences) for your singular
benefit lately bestowed on me, which I shall always bear in
remembrance, and which I esteem so much I would not lose
it for the wealth of Croesus."
u You will ask, dear Erasmus, what benefit that was, truly
this, that you have brought me to the acquaintance and
sweet conversation of your friend More, but now I will call
him mine. After your departure, I often met him, because
he frequently sent for me, and bountiful the entertainment at
his table, I esteem not so much as his learning, his courtesy,
and his liberality. I reckon myself, therefore, deeply
indebted to you, and pray God I may be able to make you
a grateful return for this good work done me. He sent my
wife a gold ring the English motto of which is * All things
are measured by good-will.'
He gave me also several old pieces of gold and silver
coin, in one of which was engraven the picture of Tiberias,
in another that of Augustus. I tell you this because I have
yon to thank for all."
Erasmus replied as follows :
" There is a vulgar adage, ' I have by means of one
daughter got two sons,' you thank me because through me
you have got such a friend as More ; and, he on the other
hand, thanks me also becanse I have procured him the
knowledge of Cranvilde. I knew well enough that because
II2 Friends at Home and Abroad.
your wit and manner were alike, there would easily arise
a dear friendship between you, if you did but know each
other, but as the having of such friends is precious, so
is the keeping of them as rare."
The letter of Sir Thomas to Cranvilde was as follows :
" I see and acknowledge how much I am in your debt, my
dear Cranvilde, for you always do ' what is most pleasing to
me, namely, keeping me informed of your affairs.' For
what can be more acceptable to Thomas More in his adver-
sity or more pleasing to him in his prosperity than to receive
letters from Cranvilde, except I could speak with him,
learned as he is, far above other men. But as often as I
read your writings, I am as enchanted with them, as if I
were conversing with you present with me ; so that nothing
troubles me more than that your letters are not longer, but
that I have found a remedy for, because I read them over
and over again, and I do it at my leisure, so that my pleasure
may last the longer. But enough of this. What you tell me
respecting our friend Vines, and your opinion of his discouse
on ' wicked women,' I quite agree with. I think one can-
not live without innocence even with goDd women, for if
a man be married he shall not be without care in my opinion.
Metellus Numidicus spoke not untruly of wives; and I
would more willingly say it if many of them were not made
the worse through our own faults.
'' Vines, however, has so good a wife, that he may not
only avoid, as far as is possible to man, all the troubles of
marriage, but also he may receive great happiness, for men's
minds are so busy with public matters whilst the fury of war
rages everywhere, that no man has much leisure to think of
his private affairs, so that if family troubles have hitherto
Friends at Home and Abroad. 113
oppressed them, they are now forgotten in the common
mischief. But enough of this. I return to yourself, for your
courtesy and friendship to me, as often as I dwell upon it,
driveth from me all sorrow. I thank you for the book you
sent me, and I wish you much joy with your new child, not
for your own sake only but for that of the Commonwealth,
to whose benefit it is that such a parent should increase it
with plenty of children, for from such as you only good ones
can proceed. Farewell, and commend me heartily and
sincerely to your good wife, to whom I pray God to send
happiness, health, and strength. My wife and children also
wish you health. From what I have told them you
are as well known and as dear to them as to myself.
Again farewell. " London, August 10, 1524."
Again to the same, he writes :
" I am ashamed, God help me, my dear Cranvilde, of
your great courtesy that you write to me so often, so lovingly
and carefully, and I so rarely answer you, especially seeing you
may allege quite as many cares and as much business as
myself, but so great is your courtesy, that you are ready to
excuse all things in your friends, whilst you yourself faith-
fully perform every duty ; but be persuaded, good Cranvilde
that if anything happen at any time wherein I may testify
the esteem I have for you, then, God willing, I will not be
wanting. Commend me to my mistress, your wife, for I
dare not now invert the order began, and to your whole
family, whom mine do with all their hearts salute.
" From my house in the country, this i oth day of June, 1528."
Erasmus thus commends to Sir Thomas More, one Goc-
lenius, a Westphalian :
" I praise your disposition, my dearest More, exceedingly,
H4 Friends at Home and Abroad.
for your joy is to be rich in sincere and faithful friends, and
you esteem it the greatest felicity of this life. Some take
great care that they may not be cheated with counterfeit
jewels ; but you, contemning all such trifles, seem yourself
to be rich enough if you can but get an unfeigned friend ;
for there is no man taketh delight, either in cards, dice,
chess, hunting or music, so much as you do in conversing
with a learned companion, full of pleasant conceits, and
although you are stored with riches of this kind, yet because
I know that a covetous man hath never enough, and that
his manner of dealing hath luckily happened both to you
and me on many occasions, I deliver to your custody one
friend more, whom I would have you accept with your whole
heart. His name is Conradus Goclenius, a Westphalian,
who with great applause and no less fruit, hath taught
rhetoric at the college newly erected at Louvain, called
Trillingue. I hope that, as soon as you have a real knowledge
of him, I shall have thanks from you both ; for so I had of
Cranvilde, who so entirely possesseth your esteem that I
almost envy him for it."
But amongst all others, Erasmus himself more especially
won his love and affection, the letters which are copied, some
of them in full, in this volume, testify to the strength of the
attachment which subsisted between these two great men,
an attachment, however, which was somewhat cooled on
More's part towards the end of his life, by the free opinions
of his friend, who though he lived and died a Catholic Priest,
rendered himself so remarkable for his satires on the clergy,
that he has been said to have hatched the eggs which Luther
laid.
Whilst he was in England, and the guest of More, many
Friends at Home and Abroad. 115
were the good offices done him by Sir Thomas, both by word
and by purse, " but," says his early biographer, " in course
of time the affection of Sir Thomas cooled, by reason that
he saw him still fraught with inconstancy with respect of
religion, so that Tindal objected to Sir Thomas, that his
darling Erasmus had translated the word Church into Con-
gregation^ and Priest into Elder^ as himself had done." Sir
Thomas replied, " And if my darling Erasmus hath trans-
lated these words with the like wicked intent that Tindal
hath done, he shall be no more my darling but the devil's
darling." And finally, having found in his works many things
which ought to be amended, he counselled him to imitate
the example of the great St. Augustine, and publish a book
of Retractations, to correct what he had unavisedly written
in the heat of youth, but not possessing the humility of that
great doctor of the Church, he never followed More's
advice.
Erasmus, however, never relapsed into heresy or led a
thoroughly worldly life. Some of his writings are master-
pieces of eloquence and piety, and the following extract
from a letter to Lord Mountjoy, bearing date 1521, will
shew that he resented being counted as a supporter of the
men who were preaching heretical tenets :
" I understand that I am accused of favouring Luther, and
am requested to clear myself from the charge by writing
against the reformer. I distinctly cleny the charge. I think
Luther was justified in exposing the evils of the times, which
were patent to all, but I dislike his manner of doing it. I
am not the author of any of the writings attributed to me,
for I have never published anything anonymously, and least
of all would I oppose the decrees of the Pope."
n6 Friends at Home and Abroad.
In Cresacre's More's life of his great ancestor, we are told
that they once met at the Lord Mayor's table, and during
dinner they began to argue together, Erasmus defending the
worst side, but he was so sharply opposed by Sir Thomas
that he broke out with Auttu es Morus aut nulhis ? to which
Sir Thomas replied Aut tu es Erasmus, aut diabolus ?
He had sought to defend false propositions, and scoffed
at religious matters, for which cause he was termed Erransmus.*
This story, however, cannot be authentic, unless one or both
of them were much altered, as it will be remembered they
were intimately acquainted in More's student days at
Oxford.
With another extract from a letter of Erasmus I close this
chapter ; he is writing to his friend Hutton.
" More, my dear Hutton, seems to be made and formed
for friendship. He is a most sincere follower and fast-keeper
of it, neither doth he fear to be taxed with having many
friends, which thing Hesiod praiseth not. Every man may
have his friendship, he is not slow in choosing, is apt in
nourishing, constant in keeping them; and if by chance he
becomes the friend of one whose vices he cannot correct, he
loosens the bonds of friendship little by little rather than by
a sudden rupture. Those whom he findeth sincere and of
accord with his own good disposition, he is so delighted with
that all his earthly pleasure seems to consist in conversing
with them, and though he is very negligent in his own tem-
poral affairs, yet none is more diligent than he in advancing
his friend's cause. Why need I speak many words? If
any are desirous to have a perfect pattern of friendship, none
can find it better than in More. In his society there is such
* Hoddesdon's Hist, of More.
Friends at Home and Abroad. 117
rare affability, and such sweet behaviour that no man's nature
is so harsh, but that his discourse is able to make him merry j
no conversation so unpleasant, but he with his wit can take
from it all tediousness.
" His house appears to enjoy the happiness that all who
live therein become better in their moral character, as well
as improved in condition, and no stain has ever fallen on
their reputation. You might imagine yourself in the academy
of Plato, but I do the house injury by comparing it with
the school of Plato, where only abstract questions and
sometimes moral virtues were the topics under discussion,
I should rather call it a school of Christian religion, a theatre
for the exercise of all Christian virtues. Its inmates apply
themselves to liberal sciences, and no quarrelling or angry
words are ever heard, every one does his duty cheerfully,
and the discipline of his home is enforced by More by
kindness and courtesy, neither is sober cheerfulness ever
wanting. Such a household deserves to be called a school
of the Christian religion."
nS
CHAPTER VIII.
THE MEN OF THE NEW LEARNING.
THE diligent assiduity of Sir Thomas More in the discharge
of the manifold duties of his high station did not prevent
him from using his pen and bringing his talents to bear
against the heresies which, like a torrent, spread far and
wide. They commenced in Germany and Flanders, and
from thence deluged England. The age was rife with heresy,
and the authority of the Church was treated by many with
derision and contempt. The fiery heresiarch Luther had
burned the bull of the Pope, in which his proposi-
tions were condemned as false, scandalous, and here-
tical, and he, on his part had stigmatized the sovereign
Pontiff as a blasphemer, an apostate and as antichrist.
Then the heroic Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, he, the story
of whose life presents a record of unbroken piety, charity,
and benevolence, came forth to preach, and stem as far as
possible the plague-spot of disunion, division, and discord,
which has grown on and on since this great rupture with the
old, old faith, till the sectaries who sprung from the intem-
perate and fiery monk, Martin Luther, number more off-
shoots from Protestantism than can well be told.
Fisher's sermons arrested many wavering souls ; and the
King himself took pen in hand, and published against the
doctrines of the apostate monk, his celebrated work the
The Men of the New Learning. 119
Defence of the Seven Sacraments, which he submitted to the
reigning Pontiff, receiving from him the Papal Bull, con-
ferring on him the title of Defender of the Faith.
Then Luther wrote a coarse and scurrilous reply, in which
he styled the King, a fool, an ass, a blasphemer, and a liar,
and More then appeared in the lists, and ir: the following
year published a work at Rome, under the feigned name of
Rosseus. Cresacre More, the old biographer, says, " to see
how he handleth Luther under the name of one Rosseus would
do any man good ; " but few at the present day at least,
will endorse the same opinion, for certainly the polished pen
of the great philosopher and statesman, strove to vie with
that of his adversary in scurrility of language, so that it has
been said by Bishop Atterbury that " they had the best knack
of any men in Europe at calling each other bad names in
good Latin."
And it must have been hard work to come up to Luther,
after all. The King he designated as a "Thomistical ass, "from
his study of scholastic divinity, " that he was not worthy to
wipe his shoes," with other scurrilous speeches. Indeed, his
flowers of rhetoric are sometimes of a filthy nature, which
in these days would not be tolerated in any writer. The
school men he abhorred, calling them sophistical locusts,
caterpillars, frogs, and lice.* And it is to be regretted that
the learned More, whose knowledge of theology fitted him
for controversy of a very different description, should have
striven to do battle with Luther in inelegant and coarse
language.
His knowledge of scholastic divinity was extensive. He
had diligently studied the Fathers of the Church, and his
* Jortin's Erasmus.
120 The Men of the New Learning.
secretary, John Harris, a man himself noted for his judg-
ment and sound piety, relates how, when he was one day
going in his barge from Chelsea to London, an heretical
book, just published was being examined by him, and
pointing with his finger to a passage in the work, he
exclaimed " Look here, how the knave draws his argu-
ments out of St. Thomas, in such and such a place, the solu-
tions are added soon after, and those, too, the fellow must
have seen and has not copied. " Amongst other works of the
same kind there came out a pamphlet entitled "The Suppli-
cation of Beggars." It was at once followed by Sir Thomas,
by his Supplication of Souls.
The notorious Fishe was the author of the former work,
the intent of which was to shew to his own satisfaction that
the poor would be the better off when the Church was de-
prived of her revenues, and abbeys and religious houses
he overthrown, and that the mendicant orders were in
annual receipt of ,43,333 6s. 8d. More answered with his
own withering sarcasm, and averred that an ocean of mis-
chief was about to deluge the whole realm. " Then," saith
he, " shall Luther's gospel be preached, and Tindal's Testa-
ment be read ; false heresies shall be preached ; the sacra-
ments be set at nought ; fasting and praise be neglected ;
the holy saints reviled, and Almighty God be angered;
virtue shall be held in derision, and vice reign supreme ;
youth shall forsake labour, folks wax idle, and thieves and
beggars, increase ; servants shall set their masters at nought,
and the unruly rebel against them ; mischief and insurrection
shall arise ; whereof what the end will be the Lord knoweth."
As to Fishe and his mendicant friars, he says his calcu-
lation is about the same as to suppose " that every ass has
The Men of the New Learning. 121
four heads."* The book also contains a defence of the
Catholic doctrine of purgatory. Satirical as he undoubtedly
was, yet More always treated his adversaries fairly, and his
old biographers notice the fact that he never wrested the
words of his opponents to the worst, or made their arguments
appear at the weakest, but gave them the benefit of as much
sense as they really possessed.
He also published a defence of the Real Presence
against the writings of Frith, and an Apology against Friar
Barnes, under the name of Salem and Byzance. His Dia-
logue, a work against the errors of Tindal, brought upon him
a reply of a very personal nature, and it drew upon him the
trouble of a long controversy, in which he refuted the errors
of his adversary with an unsparing hand.
Long before the change took place which so desolated
the Church in England, Sir Thomas, with that seeming spirit
of prophecy which so distinguished him, foretold what was
about to pass. We would wish these words, however, to be
taken in a somewhat modified sense, for without thus investing
the words of this Christian philosopher, it is certain that he
looked farther into the future than did those around him,
and could see the result of the change which was steadily
making way. The question of the divorce, which was in
itself the cause of the separation of this kingdom from
Catholic unity, was but recently mooted ; and Roper, whilst
one day walking in the pleasant garden at Chelsea with his
father-in-law, burst out in praises of the happy state of
England in possessing so Catholic a prince, and such a
learned and virtuous clergy, so grave and sound a nobility,
* Fishe became a convert, and died penitent.
122 The Men of the New Learning.
and such loving and obedient subjects, all bound up in one
faith, although they had but one heart and one soul.*
" It is true, son Roper, as you say," was the reply, " and
yet I pray God that some of us, as high as we seem now
to sit upon the mountains, treading heretics under our feet
like ants, may not live to see the day when we would gladly
wish to make this league with them, to suffer them to have
their churches quietly to themselves, so they would be con-
tent to let us have ours peaceably too."
" After this I begged him," says Roper. " to consider that
he had no cause to say so."
" Well, said he, "I pray God, son Roper, some of us live
not to see that day," showing me no reason why he should
doubt it ; to which I replied
" By my troth, sir, it is very desperately spoken, that vile
term, I cry God's mercy, did I give him."
Seeing me in such a fume, he then said merrily to me
" Well, son Roper, it shall not be so, it shall not be so."t
Little did William Roper then think that he himself
would for some time be a cause of sorrow to his father-in-
law, and his own matchless wife.
A sore trial it must have been to Sir Thomas and his best
loved daughter, Margaret, when the errors of the time led
away William Roper himself, that most favoured son-in-law,
on whom he had bestowed the hand of his priceless pearl,
Margaret.
Roper embraced for awhile the novelties of the times, for,
saysCresacre More, "hehadused austerities to himself beyond
what discretion allowed, and then he grew weary of Catholic
* Roper's Life of More.
t Ropei's More.
The Men of the New Learning. 123,
fasts and religious discipline, and hearing of a new and easy
way to heaven, he diligently read some of the heretical works
spread in every part of England, " took the bridle into his-
teeth, and ran forth, like a headstrong horse, thirsting very
sore to publish his new doctrine, and thought himself very
able so to do, if even it were at St Paul's Cross. Yea, for
the burning zeal he bore to the furtherance and advancement
of Luther's new broached religion, and for the pretty liking
of himself, he longed so sore to be pulpitted, that to have
satisfied his mind's affection and desire, he could have been
contented to have foregone a good portion of his lands."
"This fall into heresy, Mr. Roper thought afterwards,
first grew of a scruple of his own conscience, for lack of
grave and better knowledge, as some do upon other occasions.
He then did use immoderate fasting and many prayers,
which, with good discretion, well used, had not been to be
misliked, but using them without order and good considera-
tion, thinking God thereby now to be pleased, did wear
himself even usque ad servitia.
" Then did he understand of Luther's work, brought into-
this realm, and as Eve, of a curious mind, desirous to know
both good and evil, so did he, for the strangeness and delight
of that doctrine, fall into great desire to read his work ;
amongst others, he had read a book of Luther's, De Libei'tate
Christiana, and another, De Caplivitate Babylonica, and was
so with them bewitched, that he did then believe only matter
set forth by Luther to be true.
"And he was with these books, ignorance, pride, allegations,
sophistical reasons and arguments, and with his own corrupt
affections, deceived and fully persuaded, that faith only did
justify, that the works of man did nothing profit, and if man
124 The Men of the New Learning.
could once believe that our Saviour Christ shed his precious
blood and died on the cross for our sins, the same only
belief should be sufficient for our salvation. Then thought
he, that all ceremonies and sacraments in Christ's Church
were very vain, and was at length so far waded into heresy,
and puffed up with pride, that he wished that he might be
suffered publicly to preach, thinking, as we have said, that he
should be better able to edify, and profit the people than the
best preacher that came at Paul's Cross, and that in Luther's
doctrine he was able to convince the best doctors in the
realm, and so much the rather, for that he had reviled some
that were doctors of divinity, and thought there could be
no truth but that which came forth from Germany, who, for
his open talk, and keeping company with people of his own
sort of the Still Yard, and other merchants, was with them
had up before Cardinal Wolsey and convicted of heresy,
which merchants openly abjured their opinions at St. Paul's
Cross.
"Yet he, for the love borne by the Cardinal to Sir Thomas
More, his father-in-law, was in a friendly warning, discharged.
And albeit he had married the oldest daughter of Sir Thomas
More, whom then of all the world he did, during that time,
most abhor, though he was a man of much mildness and
notable patience. Now these easy, short, and very pleasant
lessons cast him into so sweet a sleep that he was loath
to wake from it.
" And he so well liked it that he soon after gave over his fast-
ings and prayer, and got to him a Lutheran Bible, wherein upon
holidays instead of his prayers he spent his whole time, think-
ing it sufficient for him only to get knowledge to be able
amongst ignorant persons to babble and talk (as he thought)
The Men of the New Learning. 125
like a great doctor. And so continned he in his heresies
awhile until upon a time that Sir Thomas More privately in
his garden talked with his daughter Margaret, and amongst
other sayings said he, * Meg, I have borne a long time with
thy husband. I have reasoned and argued with him on divers
points of religion, and still given to him my poor fatherly
counsel, but I perceive none of all this able to call him back,
and therefore, Meg, I will no longer argue or dispute with
him, but will clean give him over, and get me another while
to God and pray for him." *
Meanwhile, Roper came to prefer a request to Sir
Thomas that, as he was high in the King's favour, he would
get him a license to preach, for he was sure God had sent
him to instruct the world, not knowing "God wote," says the
old biographer, Cresacre More, " anie reason for this his
mission, but only his private spirit." ' ; Is it not sufficient, son
Roper, was the reply, that we who are your friends should
know that you are a fool, but that you would have your folly
proclaimed to the world.' 1 He still did his best, however, to
bring him to reason, but at last, said he, " I see, son, no
arguing with thee will do thee good, henceforth, therefore, I
will dispute with thee no more, I will only pray for thee, that
God will touch thy heart," and so committing him to God's
mercy they parted.
" And soon after, as he verily believed, through the great
mercy of God and the devout prayers of Sir Thomas More,
he perceived his own ignorance and folly, and turned him
again to the Catholic faith, wherein (God be thanked) he
hath hitherto continued." t
A valiant champion of the faith, too, was William Roper
* Harleian MS.S. t Harleian M.SS.
126 The Men of the New Learning.
ever after, and as compassionate and charitable to the poor
as was the good Sir Thomas himself.
This is one out of two instances noticed by the early
biographers of the marked answer granted to the prayers of
one, who, living in the heart of the world, and to all outward
seeming, absorbed in the world's cares, was yet not of it.
Margaret was once seized with illness, she had fallen ill of
what was termed the sweating sickness, of which thousands
of persons were then dying, her life was despaired of, and*
"herfather,he that mostloved her, being in no small heaviness
of heart at last sought for remedy of this most desperate case
from God ; wherefore going, as was his custom, into his new
building, there in his chapel upon his knees with many tears
he besought Almighty God, to whom nothing is impossible,
of his goodness, if it were his blessed will, graciously to
grant his petition." In the patient's most dangerous state
she could not be kept from sleep, whilst he prayed, it flashed
across his mind that there was a certain remedy that would
save her life. It was administered whilst she slept, and
when she awoke, though bearing upon her marks which
were an evident and undoubted token of death, she was al-
most miraculously restored to perfect health.
More had declared in the depth of his grief, that if it
should please God to take from him his " jewel " Margaret,
he would never more meddle with worldly matters, whilst she
always referred her recovery to her father's earnest prayers, t
* Cresacre More. f Harleian MS.
127
CHAPTER IX.
QUEEN KATHERINE. " Heaven witness
I have been to you a true and humble wife,
At all times to your will conformable ;
The King, your father, was reputed for
A prince most prudent, of an excellent
And unmatched wit and judgment Ferdinand,
My father, King of Spain, was reckoned one
The wisest prince, that there had reigned by many
A year before. It is not to be questioned
That they had gathered a wise council to them
Of every realm, that did debate this business,
Who deemed our marriage lawful.
Shakspeare Henry VIII.
THE KING'S DIVORCE.
ERASMUS TO QUEEN KATHERINE.
" THE nobility of your Highness's birth, your exalted rank
and marriage with a most prosperous sovereign, are as nothing
in contributing to your happiness, compared with your
Majesty's own gifts. It is most rare to find a lady born and
brought up at Court, placing all her hopes and solace in
devotion and the reading of scripture. Would that others,
widows at all events, would take an example by your grace,
and not widows only, but unmarried ladies by devoting
themselves to the service of Christ He is a solid rock, the
spouse of all pious souls, and dearer to each than the nearest
128 The Kings Divorce.
earthly tie. The soul that is devoted to this husband is not
less grateful in adversity than in prosperity. He knows what
is expedient for all, and is often more propitious when he
changes the sweet for bitter. Everyone must take up their
cross ; there is no entering into heavenly glory without it.
These are blessings which none can take away. I hope the
book which I have dedicated to your Majesty will receive
your favorable attention.
"Basle, i March, 1528."
"Even when the Queen had lost his heart she never forfeited
his esteem. The reputation which she had acquired on the
throne did not suffer from her disgrace. Her affability and
meekness, her piety and charity, had been the theme of uni-
versal praise ; the fortitude with which she bore her wrongs
raised her still higher in the estimation of the public." *
And various have been the eulogiums such as these
which have been passed on the truly unfortunate Katherine
of Arragon ; such was she who was put aside for her maid of
honour, Anne Boleyn, such was the right royal lady to
divorce himself from whom the Eighth Henry wrung the
fair appanage of England from the Church, and caused the
heads of two of the most noble and heroic of men to
fall beneath the headsman's axe Fisher, Bishop of
Rochester, and Sir Thomas More.
When Henry the Eighth married Katherine of Arragon,
daughter of the late King of Spain, and aunt to the reigning
Emperor Charles V., she was then in her twenty-sixth
year. She bore him three sons and two daughters, all of
whom died in their infancy, except the Princess Mary, who
survived both parents, and afterwards ascended the throne.
* Lingard.
The King's Divorce. 129
Katharine had been previously contracted to his elder,
brother, who died a few months after the solemnisation of
their marriage, and all impediments to Henry's union with
her had been removed by a Papal dispensation. The
question had been set at rest by the decision of his counsel,
but his passion for the beautiful maid of honour, Anne
Boleyn, led him to reconsider the subject.
" Whether the idea of a divorce arose spontaneously to his
mind, or was suggested by others, is uncertain ; but Wolsey
offered his aid, and ventured to promise success. His views,
however, were very different to those of his sovereign : he
looked forward to the political consequences of the divorce ;
and that he might perpetuate the alliance between England
and France, had selected Renee, the daughter of Louis XII.,
for the future queen of England. When he learned from
Henry that he wanted no French princess, and that Anne
Boleyn was to be queen if the divorce could be obtained,
he received the intelligence with grief and dismay, and on
his knees he besought the King to recede from a project
which must cover him with disgrace; but, aware of the
royal temper, soon desisted, and became a convert to the
measures which he could not avert.*
The King's treatise, or case, was then laid before the first
literary man in the kingdom, Sir Thomas More, but when
consulted by the King he waived the dangerous subject,
saying that it was a question fit only for theologians, re-
ferring to writings of St Augustine and other distinguished
doctors of the Church. Henry, whose whole heart was bent
on making the fair Boleyn his wife, and whose conscience
though made the plea, was not at all in the question, did
* Lingard.
K
130 The Kings Divorce.
not, however, intend More thus quietly to escape, but
showed him all the passages of Scripture that seemed to
bear him out in what he termed his conscientious scruples.
To pacify the King he promised to consider the subject,
but abstained from expressing any decisive opinion.
He has been charged by some persons with a conceal-
ment of his own ideas, but how could he have acted other-
wise than he did ? His path was surrounded with diffi-
culties, out of which he could by no means see his way, and
intimate as he must have been with Henry, from his con-
stant intercourse with him, he must have clearly seen and
feared how the matter would end.
After a short time the King made known his doubts
respecting his marriage to several canonists and divines,
who easily discovered the real wish of their Sovereign
through the thin disguise with which he affected to cover it
" the scruples of a timorous conscience and the dangers of a
disputed succession." * Many, from passages in scriptures,
contended both for and against the matter in question. It
is not our purpose, however, to give other than the merest
outline of the circumstances connected with "the King's
secret matter," as it was called, which occasioned, as we
have before said, for it led directly to it, the disruption of
England from the See of Rome.
The unfortunate Katherine had been kept in the dark
hitherto respecting his intentions to repudiate her, but she
at last with her own eyes witnessed his partiality for her maid,
and in a fit of passion reproached him with the baseness
of his conduct. After a "shorte tragedie" Henry appeased
her for a time.
* Lingard.
The King's Divorce. 131
The King's "secret matter" was then disclosed by
Wolsey to the prelates of Canterbury and Rochester, and
the latter, unlike More, spoke out his mind plainly to the
King. It is well known that this prelate was a zealous de-
fender of the Catholic Church against the attacks of the
Lutherans. He wrote against the new opinions with spirit
and acuteness, and backed his arguments with the weighty
evidence of an untainted and irreproachable life. In an age
by no means distinguished either for morality or learning, he
was at once eminent for virtue, and respectable as a scholar.
That he was an encourager of learning in others is well-
known by his patronage of Erasmus, and his assiduity in
the foundation of Christ's and S. John's Colleges, Cambridge,
the Lady Margaret's Professorships, and other scholastic
endowments, and his personal affection for literature, may
be inferred from the fact of his collecting one of the best
libraries in England, and also from his undertaking the study
of Greek, when the knowledge of that language was revived
in England, although he was then above sixty years of age.*
" He had the notablest library of books in all England,
two long galleries full. The books were sorted in stalls and
a register of the name of every book was at the end of each
stall." t
Fisher's reputation was equivalent to his merit. Henry
VIII. held him in peculiar esteem, and had inquired of Car-
dinal Pole whether in all his travels he had ever found a
prelate of equal ability and worth with the Bishop of Ro-
chester. It appears from the state papers lately published
that upon the first whisper of the meditated divorce between
Henry and Katherine, Fisher, although unwilling to interfere,
*Bruce's Archzeologia. t Harleian MS.
132 The King's Divorce.
was applied to by the Queen for advice. He was afterwards
one of her counsellors upon the hearing before the Legate
at Blackfriars, and in that character drew upon himself the
displeasure of the King. The opposition which there can
be no doubt he offered conscientiously against Henry's sub-
sequent proceedings, not merely eradicated the King's
former feeling of affection for him, but even increased his
displeasure to dislike and hatred. In the convocation and
afterwards in the Parliament, though almost alone, Fisher
was a strenuous opponent to every measure which tended
" to break the bonds of Rome," and, notwithstanding his
advanced age and infirm health, appears to have maintained
the contest eloquently and with vigour *
The earnest-minded Fisher, in the conversation alluded to
above, addressed the prelates as follows :
" May it not seem displeasing to your eminence, and the
rest of these grave and reverend fathers of the Church, that
I speak a few words, which I hope may not be out of
season. I had thought that when so many learned men
came together, some good matters would have been thought
of for the weal of the Church, that the scandals that lie so
heavy on her members, and the disease that takes such hold
on their advantage, might have been at once removed.
But who hath made any, the least proposition against the
ambition of those men whose pride is so offensive, while
their profession is humility or against the licentious lives of
those who are vowed to chastity. How are the goods of
the Church invested? The lands, the tithes, the other obla-
tions of our people's devout ancestors wasted, to the scandal
of their posterity, in riotous expenses. How can we exhort
* Bruce's Archoelogia.
The Kings Divorce. 133
our flocks to fly the pomps and vanities of the world, when
we, that are Bishops, set our minds on nothing more than
that which we forbid.
If we should teach according to our doings, how absurdly
would our doctrines sound ? And yet, we teach one thing
and do another. Who shall believe our report ? We preach
humility, sobriety and contempt of the world, and the people
perceive in the same men that thus speak, pride and haughti-
ness of mind, excess of apparel, and an abandonment to the
pomps and vanities of the world, so that they know not
whether to follow what they see or what they hear. Excuse
me, reverend fathers, I blame herein no man more than I
do myself, for many times when I have settled myself to the
care of my people, to visit my flock, to govern my Church ?
to answer the enemies of Christ, there hath suddenly come
a message to me from the Court, that I must attend such a
triumph, or receive such an ambassador. What have we to
do with the courts of princes ? If we are in love with
majesty, is there a greater excellence than Him whom we
serve ? If we delight in stately buildings, where are there
higher roofs than those of our cathedrals ? If in goodly
apparel, is there a greater ornament than that of the priest-
hood, or is all this better company than the communion of
saints ? Reverend fathers, what these things may work in
you I know not, but this I know, that to me they are impedi
ments to devotion, and I think the time is come for us, who
are the heads, to give example to the inferior clergy in these
particulars, whereby we may be better conformable to the
image of God; for, in this trade of life we now lead, there can
neither be any likelihood of perpetuity in the state wherein
we stand, or saiety to the clergy."
1 3 4 The King's Divorce.
Wolsey, with all his love of pomp and pride, could ill
have relished this speech of the intrepid prelate; some there
were, alas, unworthy of the garb they wore, but there were
many, like the monks of the Charter House, ready to die
the martyr's death. The Church was fettered by the state,
kings, and parliaments had warred against the authority of
the Holy See, and in proportion as her prelates became
subservient to the crown, they became worldly, luxurious,
and time serving.
Sir Thomas More and Bishop Fisher were men of to<>
great worth, influence and learning, to be set aside, and
Henry continued to embrace every opportunity of trying to
gain them over to his cause. He began by nattering Fisher
respecting his learning and virtue, and ended by speaking
of the tortures of his own conscience.
The prelate exerted all his powers to soothe and reassure
him, told him the matter was too clear to admit of any
doubt, and ended by saying, " there be worthy and learned
men in your kingdom, who, if they dared speak out, hold
it a perilous and unseemly thing that a divorce should be so
much as spoken of."
The King abruptly quitted him ; he had spoken out, and
there is no doubt but that his constant opposition made hirr
exceedingly troublesome to a Court little accustomed to have
its measures thwarted.
All, whether for or against, were, however, of one mind
that the marriage, having been originally celebrated under a
Papal dispensation, it could only be dissolved by the Holy
See. The Pope had been led to believe that the suit of
Henry proceeded from sincere scruples, and a commission
was ultimately prepared in the most ample forms which the
Tfie King's Divorce. 135
Papal Council would admit, authorising Wolsey, with the aid
of any one of the other English prelates, to enquire without
judicial forms into the validity of the dispensation granted
for the marriage, and to pronounce in defiance of exception
or appeal, the dispensation sufficient or surreptitious, to
divorce the parties, if it were invalid, but to legitimate their
offspring if desired
" When Dr. Fox, the King's almoner, and an earnest advo-
cate for the divorce, returned to England with these instru-
ments, the King declared himself satisfied, and Anne
Boleyn expressed her gratitude for the agent's services, but
Wolsey received the commissions with alarm and vexation.
Every clause was examined, corrections suggested, and a re-
quest made that Cardinal Campeggio, as a prelate ex-
perienced in the forms of the Roman Courts, should be
joined in commission with himself. He now began to
hesitate. He had persuaded himself a divorce might be
justly pronounced now ; he declared to the King that,
though he was under obligations to him, he owed more to
God, and if he found the dispensation sufficient, so to pro-
nounce it, whatever might be the consequence. Henry at
the moment suppressed his feelings, but in a short time gave
vent to his anger in language the most opprobrious . and
alarming. Without a divorce Woisey's power, perhaps his life
was at stake. With it, the prospect was equally bad. Anne
was not his friend. Her relatives were his enemies and
rivals, and to be prepared for the worst he hastened to pro-
cure the legal endowment of his colleges, saying, as soon as
the King's matter was settled, he should retire from Court,
and devote the rest of his days to priestly duties. During
the various negotiations which preceded the arrival of
!36 The King's Divorce.
Cardinal Campeggio, as joint legate with Wolsey, the King
and Queen outwardly lived on the same terms as heretofore.
Katharine carefully concealed her feelings, and Henry was
induced by a sense of decency to send his mistress a second
time from Court. We here insert curious fragments of a
letter copied from Sir Henry Ellis's Collection, showing the
anxiety of the Queen for the Legate's arrival.
KATHERINE OF ARRAGON AND HENRY THE EIGHTH TO
CARDINAL WOLSEY A JOINT LETTER, 1527.
The mutilated joint letter now presented to the
reader is one of the most curious fragments which
these volumes will preserve. The first part forms a note
from the Queen, anxious for the coming of Campeggio,
steadfast in the hope that her cause would be affirmed, and
kind and caressing to Wolsey. It is entirely in Katherine's
hand- writing, but breaks off abruptly, Henry the Eighth
having consented to her importunity, and taken up the pen
to finish it*
" Here we have another added to the many proofs already
known, that whatever were Henry's scruples really, however
blinded by lust or determined in his heart to get rid of
Katherine, his heart respected her.t
" My Lord in my most humblest ways that my heart can
think .... Me that I am so bold to troubyl you
with my sympyl ytt to proceed from her
that is muche desirus to kno I perseave
by this berar that you do the wiche I .... as I am
moste bounde to pray, for I do know the g . . . . you
* MS. Cotton,
t Original Letters from Sir Henry Ellis, vol. i, first series, p. 27*.
The Kings Divorce. 137
have taken for me bothe day and nyght my
part, but all only in loveing you next on to the ....
creatures leveng and I do not dought but the . . . .
shall manifestly declare and affirm my Wrgte . . . . *
trust you do thynke the same. My Lord I do assure y .
. .... from you som neues of the Legat for I do
hope and shall be very good, and I am
seur that you desayre and more and ytt
waer possibel as 1 know it is not In a
stedfast hope I make an end of my letter of
her that is most bounde to be."
Here Queen Katherine's part ends, the rest is in the hand-
writing of Henry VIII.
" The wrytter of this letter wolde not cease tyll she had
to sett to my hands, desyryng you thought
it be short to t I assure you ther is nother
ot us but that grettly desiry muche more
rejoyse to hear that you have scapyd thys plage ....
the fury thereoff to be passyd, specially with them that k
as I trust you doo. The nott heryng off the
the Leg's arywall us somewhat to muse
nott withstandyng we trust by your dilyg .... (with
the assysstence of All myghty God) shortly to be easyd
owght . . . no more to you att thys tyme, but that I
pray God send you and prosperyte as the
wryters wolde. By your lovyng So .... Frende
H. E. N. K.
The following, copied from the State Papers, were probably
written to Anne Boleyn aboutthe same time as the joint letters
given above. The King was, of course, longing as impa-
I3 8 The King's Divorce.
tiently for the arrival of Campeggio as the unfortunate
Katherine :
1528 HENRY VIII. TO ANNE BOLEYN.
" The bearer and his fellow are dispatched with as many
things to compass our matter, and bring it to pass as wit
could imagine, which being accomplished by their diligence,
I trust you and I will shortly have our desired end. This
would be more to my heart's ease and quietness of my mind
than anything in the world. I assure you no time shall be
lost, for ultra posse non est esse. Keep him not too long
with you, but desire him, for your sake, to make the more
speed, for the sooner we shall have word from him the sooner
shall our matter come to pass. And this, upon trust of your
short repair to London, I make an end of my letter, mine
own sweetheart. Written with the hand of him that desireth
as much to be yours as you do to have him."
1528. FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.
" Darling, The approach of the time which has been
delayed so long, delights me so exceedingly that it seems
almost already come. Nevertheless, the entire accomplish-
ment cannot be till two persons meet, which meeting is more
desired on my part than anything in the world, for what joy
can be so great as to have the company of her who is my
most dear friend, knowing likewise that she does the same.
Judge then what that personage will do whose absence has
given me the greatest pain in my heart, which neither tongue
nor writing can express, and nothing but that can remedy.
Tell your father on my part that I expect him to abridge by
two days the time appointed, that he may be in Court before
The King's Divorce. 139
the old term, or at least upon the day prefixed, otherwise I
shall think he will not do the lovers turn as he said he
would, nor answer my expectation. No more for want of
time. I hope soon to tell you by my mouth the rest of the
pains I have suffered in your absence. Written by the hand
of the Secretary, who hopes to be privately with you, &c."
FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.
Darling, The reasonable request of your last letters, with
the pleasure also that I take that I know them true, causes
me to send you news. The Legate, which we most desire,
arrived at Paris on Sunday or Monday* last past, so that I
hope by next Monday to hear of his arrival at Calais, and
then I trust within a while after to enjoy that which I have
so longed for to God's pleasure."
Campeggio was so severely afflicted with gout on his
arrival, that he was carried in a litter to his lodgings, and
was confined to his bed for a fortnight, of course to the
great uneasiness of the King. Throughout the whole of
this time Sir Thomas More had not interfered, declaring
himself that " the matter was in hand by the ordinary pro-
cess of spiritual law, whereof," he adds, " I have little skill.'*
An embassy to the Netherlands took him from the
scene of strife, and he was made colleague of his friend,
Tunstal, to arrange the treaty of peace between England,
France, and the States of Charles the Fifth.
It was upon this occasion that, whilst staying at Bruges,
he is said to have puzzled a pragmatical professor of the
university, who gave a universal challenge to dispute with
any person in any science, in omni stibili et de quotibi cnte.
* Campeggio reached Paris on Monday, 14 Sep.
140 The King's Divorce.
Upon which More sent him this question Utrum averia
caruccz, capto in vetito namio, sunt irreplegibilia ? Whether
beasts of the plough, taken in withernam, are incapable of
being replevied ? *
The braggadocio, however, of course did not understand
the terms of our common law, and made himself a laughing
stock to the whole city for his bragging.
Meanwhile the divorce matter, which was to bring such
ruin to many, made its first victim of Wolsey, whom Anne
had never forgiven for his opposition to the match ; but
before the arrival of Campeggio to animate his exertions in
her behalf, she had written him as follows : " All the days
of my life I am most bound, of all creatures, next the King's
grace, to love and serve your grace, of the which I beseech
you never to doubt that I shall vary from this thought as
long as there is breath in my body. And as touching your
grace's trouble with the sweat, I thank our Lord that those
that I desired and prayed for have scaped, and that is the
King and you. . . . And as for the coming of the
Legate, I desire that much ; and if it be God's pleasure I
pray him to send this matter shortly to a good end, and then
I trust, my lord, to recompense part of your great pain."
Again she writes :
" I do know the great pains and trouble that you have
taken for me, both day and night, is never like to be recom-
pensed on my part, but alonely in loving you, next to the
King's grace, above all creatures living."
In a third she writes :
" I assure you, that after this matter is brought to pass,
you shall find me, as I am bound in the mean time to owe
you my services, and then look what thing in the world I
* Blackstone, vol. iii., p. 149.
The King's Divorce. 141
can imagine to do your pleasure in, you shall find me the
gladdest woman in the world to do it."
When the Legate, Campeggio, arrived in England, Katha-
rine, in an interview with him, became aware that the
Pontiff had been falsely told that she wished to enter a
convent ; the line of conduct she adopted proved that she
had never entertained such an idea, and it provoked a burst
of fury from the King. Thus seven months had passed
since the Legate's arrival, Katharine had been dismissed
from Court, and Anne was required to return, and had a
princely establishment allotted to her, with richly furnished
apartments, contiguous to those of the King, and he exacted
of his courtiers that they should attend her levees in the same
manner that they had attended those of the Queen. On the
29th of May 1529, the Court summoned the royal parties,
the Legates, Wolsey and Campeggio, each had a chair of
state covered with cloth of gold, the King answered by two
proctors ; the Queen appealed from them as prejudiced and
incompetent judges to the Court of Rome, and then departed.
The Court sat every week, and heard arguments on both
sides, but seemed as far off as ever in coming to a decision.
On the 1 8th of June the King and Queen were again cited
to appear, and the Queen again answered by protesting
against the legality of the Court, and, before she withdrew,
she made a pathetic and passionate appeal to the King.
Katharine was again summoned before the Court on the
25th of June, and, refusing to appear, was declared contuma-
cious An appeal to the Pope, signed in every page
in her own hand, was, however, given in. She also wrote to
the Emperor, declaring that she would sooner surfer death
than compromise her child's legitimacy, the perplexed Legates
142 The King's Divorce.
then stopped their proceedings, they declared the Courts
never sat in Rome from July to October, and that they must
follow the example of their head. At this delay Anne so
worked on the feelings of her lover, that he was in an agony
of impatience, and, sending for Wolsey, he remained an hour
with him, while he stormed in all the fury of unbridled
passion. At last Wolsey returned to his barge, and the
Bishop of Carlisle, who was waiting in it at Blackfriars
observing that it was warm weather :
"Yea, my lord," was the reply, " and if you had been chafed,
as I have been, you would say it was hot." That night when
he had been two hours in bed, Lord Wiltshire, Anne Boleyn's
father, called him up, in the name of the King, to repair in-
stantly to Bridewell palace, in order to wait on the Queen
with Campeggio in the morning, with proposals for a private
accommodation. Wolsey was imprudent enough to rate
him soundly for his eagerness."*
" In the morning the Legates spent much time with the
poor Queen, but accommodation was as far off as ever, when
the long interview was over, she, however, gained over both
Legates to her cause, and this was the real cause of the
King's enmity to his former favourite Wolsey, who had found
ere now that all the pains he had taken to injure Katherine,
were but to exalt Anne Boleyn, his active enemy. The King's
counsel, when the Court resumed its sittings, pressed the
Legates to give judgment, but Campeggio refused, declaring
the matter should be referred to the Pontiff. The Court
was then dissolved, and Suffolk, the King's brother-in-law,
striking the table so violently with his fist, as to make every-
* Agnes Strickland.
The King's Divorce. 143
one start, swore no good had ever befallen England since
Cardinals came there, to which Wolsey retorted :
" That if it had not been for one Cardinal at least, the
Duke of Suffolk, would have lost his head, and not had the
opportunity of reviling Cardinals at that time."
Meanwhile More had returned to England, and whilst at
Woodstock, where the Court then was, tidings of the news
was brought to him that his barns and store-houses which
were well filled with corn had been destroyed by fire. His
letter, which shewed his Christian resignation and philosophy
in every line, ran as follows :
" Mistress Alice, In my most hearty wise I recommend
me to you. And whereas I am informed by my son Heron,
of the loss of our barns, and of our neighbours also, with all
the corn therein ; albeit (saving God's pleasure) it is a great
pity of so much good corn lost, yet, since it has liked Him
to send us such a chance, we must not only be content, but
also glad of His visitation. He sent us all we have lost, and
since He hath by such a chance, taken it away again, His
pleasure be fulfilled. Let us never grudge thereat but take it
in good part, and heartily thank Him both in prosperity and
adversity. And, peradventure, we have more cause to thank
Him for our losing than our winning, for His wisdom seeth
better what is good for us than we do ourselves. Therefore
I pray you be of good cheer, and take all the household
with you to church, and there thank God both for what He
hath given us and for what He hath taken away ; and for
all He hath left us, which He can easily increase when He
sees fit, and if He pleases to take more from us His blessed
will be done. I pray you diligently enquire what our poor
neighbours have lost, and desire them not to be sad, for I
!44 The King's Divorce.
will not see any of them damaged by any mischance of my
house, even if it should leave me without a spoon. I pray
you be cheerful with all my children, and family, and take
counsel of our friends, as to how corn is to be procured for
our household ; and for seed this year coming, if we think
well to keep the ground still in our hands, but whether we
do so, or not, I do not think it expedient suddenly to give
it up, and put out our workmen from our farm till we have
taken counsel thereon."
"If we have more workmen now than we have need of,
such may be dismissed, if they can be conveniently placed
with other masters, but I will not suffer any to be sent away
at random without a place to live in. On my return to the
King I found things so happening, that it is likely I shall
stay with him a long while, but, on account of this mischance,
perhaps, I shall get leave to come and see you some time
this next week, when we will confer at leisure, about these
our household affairs. Farewell.
" From the Court at Woodstock, 13 Sept., 1529."
'45
CHAPTER X.
THE CHANCELLOR.
ON the return of Sir Thomas More from his successful
negociation at Cambray, the King resumed his former
importunities, saying, that though the dispensation he had
received to marry his brother's widow, was good with regard
to the laws of the Church, yet now it was found to be against
the law of nature, as Doctor Stokeley (who, by the way, for
raising this objection was preferred to the Bishopric of
London) would inform him.
Ultimately More, who, do what he would, could not escape,
agreed to confer on the matter with Tunstal and Clarke, the
Bishops of Bath and Durham, and with others of the Privy
Council, but he remained inflexible, and when he came to
Court, when talking with the King, said More :
"To be plain with your Grace, neither my lords of
Durham nor of Bath, though I know them to be wise,
virtuous and learned prelates, or myself, with the rest of the
council, being your Grace's own servants, bound to you for
many benefits, are in my mind, meet councillors. If your
Grace mean to know the truth, such councillors should you
have, as neither for their own worldly advancement, nor for
fear of your authority, will be inclined to deceive you."
Such a mode of reasoning was correct enough, but it was
not what the King wished for ; and though he affected to take
146 Sir Thomas Mdre
More's advice in good part, the storm raged within his
breast, and he ceased not to adopt every means in his
power to bend his virtuous statesman to obedience to his
will.
As to Wolsey, his good fortune had now abandoned him,
and Henry was still smarting under his disappointment, when
an instrument arrived from Rome forbidding him to pursue
his cause before the Legates, and citing him to appear by
attorney in the Papal Court, under a penalty of 10,000
ducats. The whole process was one of mere form, but the
King deemed it a personal insult, and insisted Wolsey should
prevent it from being served upon him, and from being made
known to his subjects. The Cardinal in vain strove to
recover the royal favour.
Anne Boleyn openly avowed her hostility, and seconded
the attempts of the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, and her
father, Viscount Rochford, to precipitate the downfall of
the minister, nor did she let the King have any peace till
she had extracted from him a solemn promise that he would
never more speak to the Cardinal.
His enemies did not rest till they had stripped him of
every office and dignity ; he then resigned the Great Seal
into the hands of the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, and
was told that the King meant to reside at his house at
York Place, and that he might retire to Esher, a seat
belonging to his Bishopric of Winchester. To appoint a
successor to Wolsey in the Chancery was of great import-
ance, and the office was given to Sir Thomas More, the
Treasurer of the Household, and Chancellor of the Duchy
of Lancaster.
There is no doubt but that Cardinal Pole was correct in
as Chancellor. 147
saying that this honourable post was conferred on More, in
order the better to bring him within "the bent of the
King's bow," with respect to the contemplated marriage with
Anne Boleyn. With a delicate conscience, and a high sense
of duty, Sir Thomas was surely not a fit associate for his
less timorous colleagues, the difficulties which in two years
compelled him to retire from office, must even now have
stared him in the face. As a scholar he was celebrated
throughout Europe ; as a lawyer he had long practised with
applause and success ; his merit was acknowledged by all,
even Wolsey declared he knew no one more worthy to be
his successor, but there were few instances in which the
seals had been entrusted to any but dignified churchmen.
As More possessed no hereditary rank or judicial reputa-
tion beyond that acquired as under Sheriff of London, an
apprehension was felt lest his office should be thought
lowered by the prejudices of the vulgar, after having been
held by a Cardinal Archbishop, the Pope's Legate, and Prime
Minister of the Crown.* And a splendid pageant was got
up for the installation of the new Lord Chancellor, whose
exaltation to so high a post was acknowledged by all. The
Duke of Norfolk, the first peer in the realm, headed the
procession, together with the King's brother-in-law, the
Duke of Suffolk, the nobility resident in and near London
followed, together with the judges, and professors of the law.
On arriving at Palace Yard, the Chancellor, wearing his
robes of office, was conducted between the two Dukes up
Westminster Hall to the Stone Chamber, where were the
marble table and marble chair, and then taking his place in
the high judgment seat, the Duke of Norfolk, by command
* Lord Cardinal Pole.
!^3 Sir Thomas More
of the King, spoke as follows to the people, who had
gathered together " with great applause and joy."
" The King's majesty, which I pray God may prove happy
to the whole realm of England, hath raised to the dignity of
Chancellorship, Sir Thomas More, a man for his extraor-
dinary worth and sufficiency, well known to himself and the
whole realm, for no other but that he hath plainly perceived
all the gifts of nature and grace to be heaped upon
him, which, either the people could desire or himself
could wish for the discharge of so great an office.
"For the wisdom, integrity, and sincerity joined with
pleasant facility of wit that this man is endowed with, have
been known to all Englishmen, from his youth, and for
these many years to the King's majesty himself. This, the
King hath found in many weighty affairs which he hath
happily despatched at home and abroad, in many offices he
hath borne, in embassies he hath undertaken, and in his
daily counsel and advice on other occasions ; so that he
hath found no one in his realm more wise in deliberating,
more sincere in revealing his thoughts, or eloquent in speech.
Wherefore, because he saw in him such excellent endow-
ments, and out of a special care he hath that his people
should be governed with equity and justice, integrity and
wisdom, he hath graciously created this singular man Lord
Chancellor, that, by his worthy performance of this office, his
people may enjoy peace and justice, and that honour may
redound to the whole kingdom. It may perhaps seem
strange that this dignity should now be bestowed on a lay-
man, not of the nobility, because formerly learned prelates
and great noblemen have possessed it, but what is wanting
in this respect, the admirable virtues and matchless gifts,
as Chancellor. 149
and wisdom of the man doth amply atone for. For his ma-
jesty hath not regarded how great, but the kind of man he
was, not the nobility of his blood, but the worth of his person,
he hath respected his qualities, not his profession, and finally
he would shew by this his choice that he hath some rare
subjects amongst his gentry, who are worthy of managing
the highest offices in the realm, which bishops and noblemen
think they only can deserve."
"The rarer it was then, he hath held it to be the more
excellent, and to his people he thought it would be the more
grateful. Wherefore, receive this your Chancellor with joyful
acclamations, at whose hands you may expect all happiness
and content."
The worthy Sir Thomas was not a little abashed at
having to listen to his own praises declared so pompously,
and recollecting himself for a moment, replied as follows :
" Most Noble Duke, Right Honourable Lords, and worthy
Gentlemen, I know all these things are very far from me,
which the King's highness hath been pleased should be
spoken, and which your grace hath exaggerated, and I wish
with all my heart I did possess them for the better perform-
ance of so great a charge. And though this your speech
hath aroused greater fear in me than I can well express in
words, yet this favour of my dread sovereign, by which he
shews how well he thinketh of my weakness having com-
manded that my mean birth should be so greatly commended,
cannot but be acceptable to me, and I cannot choose but
give your grace exceeding thanks that what his Majesty
willed you briefly to utter, you, out of the abundance of
your love have enlarged on in a long and eloquent oration.
As for myself I cannot take it otherwise than that it proceeds
jijo Sir Thomas More
from his Majesty's great favour towards me, and the good-
will of his royal mind, by which he hath for many years con-
stantly favoured me, hath alone, without any merit of mine,,
caused this my new honour, and your grace's undeserved
praise.
" For who am I, or what is the house of my father, that
the King's highness should heap upon me, through such a
stream of affection, these high honours ?
" I am far less than the meanest of the benefits he hath
showered on me, how then can I think myself fit or worthy
of this peerless dignity. I have been drawn forcibly, as the
King's majesty hath often said, to his Highness' service, to
become a courtier, but to take this dignity upon me is most
of all against my will, yet such is his benignity and bounty,
that he esteems the small service of the meanest of his
subjects, and seeketh to reward his servants, not only such
as deserve well, but even such as have a desire to deserve
well at his hands, amongst which number I have always
wished myself to be reckoned, because I cannot consider
myself one of the former, so that you may all see how great
a burden is laid on my back, so that 1 must strive by dili-
gence and duty to correspond with his royal benevolence,
and to respond to the expectations which he and you have
of me, wherefore these high praises are so much the more
gracious to me, because I know the greatness of the charge
I have to make myself worthy of, and the small means I
possess to make them good. This weight is hardly suitable
for my weak shoulders, this honour does not correspond
with my poor deserts, it is a burthen, not a glory, a care,
not a dignity ; the one I must bear as bravely as I can,
the other I must discharge as well as I am able.
as Chancellor. 151
" The earnest desire which I have always had to satisfy
by all possible means for the ample favours of his Highness,
will greatly excite me to diligent performance, which I trust
I shall be better able to do, if I find your good will and
wishes both favourable to me and conformable to the King's
royal munificence, for my serious endeavours to do well,
united with your good will, will ensure that whatever is
performed by me, though in itself but small, will seem
praiseworthy ; for those things are always well achieved
which are willingly accepted, and those fortunately succeed
which are received courteously, and as you hope for great
and good things at my hands, so, though I dare not pro-
mise any such, yet I promise truly and affectionately to do
the best that I am able."
Then turning his face to the judgment-seat of the
Chancery, he thus continued, ' But when I look upon
this seat, and think of the greatness of the personages who
have filled this place before me, when I call to mind who
he was that last occupied it ; his wisdom, and experience,
what prosperous fortune he had for a great space, and then
so grievous a fall, I have sufficient cause to think this
honour but slippery, and this dignity not so grateful to me
as it may seem to others, for it is a hard matter to follow
a man of such admirable wit, prudence, and authority, to
whom I may seem but as the lighting of a candle when
the sun hath set, and also the sudden and unexpected fall
of so great a man doth terribly put me in mind that this
honour ought not to please me too much, nor the lustre
of his glittering seat dazzle mine eyes, so that I occupy it
as a place full of labour and danger void of true honour,
and by which the higher it is the more I have to fear a fall,
152 Sir Thomas More
as well in respect of the thing itself as of the late example
before me, and truly at this first step I might stumble, but
that his Majesty's favour and your good wills manifested by
the joyful countenances of this honourable assembly, doth
revive my spirits, otherwise this seat would be no more
pleasing to me than was that sword to Damocles, sus-
pended over his head by a single hair, when he had store
of delicate viands before him, seated in the throne of
Denis, the tyrant of Sicily, this, therefore, fresh in my mind
will I have before mine eyes, that this seat will be honour-
able and full of glory, if with care, and diligence, fidelity,
and wisdom, I try to do my duty; and I shall remember
that the enjoyment of it may be short and uncertain, the
one whereof my own labour ought to perform, the other my
predecessor's example may easily teach me, and this being
the case you may easily perceive what great pleasure I take
in this high dignity, or in this most noble Duke's praises."
His words again seem invested as with the spirit of the
prophets of old. The character of the King, must, by this
time, have been read by More in its true light, nay, long
years since, for his own speech to Roper, when the latter
congratulated him on the favor of Henry, makes this mani-
fest ; and in the future, amidst all the glittering pomp, and
parade, and splendours of this day, so far removed from the
humbleness and simplicity which his great soul prized, he may
have beheld in spirit the bitter end, the Tower, the dungeon,
and the block, to which the fatal liking of himself of the
despotic sovereign whom he served, was so surely leading
him.
More's elevation was as popular abroad as at home, con-
gratulations were showered on him from all sides, a single
as Chancellor. 153
sentence addressed by Erasmus to John Fabius, Bishop of
Vienna, sufficiently proves this, it runs as follows :
" Concerning the new increase of honour experienced by
Thomas More, I should easily make you believe it, were I
to shew you the letters of many famous men, rejoicing
with much alacrity, congratulating the King, the realm,
himself, and also me, on his promotion to be Lord Chan-
cellor of England."
" Then did all present behold the spectacle of this wise
and learned man kneeling, earch morning for his father's
blessing, before he occupied his own seat as Lord High
Chancellor, for in the adjoining room to his own was seated
his venerable father, over whose head the snows of many
winters had passed. The senior of the Judges of England
was this Judge More, and his son, Sir Thomas, delighted to
render him this act of filh 1 piety. *
Soon after his installation he was called upon to open the
Parliament summoned for the impeachment of his prede-
cessor ; and thus ran his speech :
"Like as a good shepherd, who not only tendeth but
keepeth well his sheep, but also provideth and foreseeth
against everything which may be hurtful to his flock, or may
preserve and defend the same against all chances to come,
and considering how divers laws by long mutation of things
and continuance of time, were now grown insufficient and
imperfect, and, also, that by the frail condition of man,
* I am old enough to remember that when the Lord Chancellor left
his Court, if the Court of King's Bench was sitting, a curtain was drawn
and bows were exchanged between him and the Judges, so that I can
easily picture to myself "the blessing scene" between the father and
son. Lord Campbell's Lives of the Chancellors.
154 Sir Thomas More
divers new enormities were sprung up amongst the people
for which no law was made to reform the same, was the very
cause, he added, why, at this time the King had summoned
his High Court of Parliament. He likened the King for
this cause to a shepherd or herdsman; if a King be esteemed
only for his riches, he is a rich man, but compare him to the
multitude of his people, and the number of his flock, then he
is a ruler, a governor of might and power, so that his people
maketh him a prince, as of the multitude of sheep cometh
the name of a shepherd. And as you see that amongst a
great flock of sheep, some may be rotten and faulty, which
the good shepherd sendeth from the sound sheep, so the
great WETHER, which is lately fallen as you all know, jug-
gled with the King so craftily and untruly, that all men must
think that he imagined himself that the King had no sense
to perceive his crafty doings, or presumed that he would not
see or understand his fraudulent jugglings and attempts.
But he was deceived, for his Grace's sight was so quick that
he not only saw him, but through him, both within and
without ; so that he was entirely open to him. According
to his desert, he hath had a gentle correction, which small
punishment the King would should be an example to
other offenders, but openly declareth that, whoever, hereafter
should make the like attempt, or commit the same offences
shall not escape with the like punishment.* Articles of
charge were then brought against Wolsey, Audley being
Speaker, and Sir Thomas, Chairman."
Lord Campbell, in his Lives of the Chancellors, says,
that the articles, numbering forty-four, were many of them
frivolous, and that the Cardinal's violation of the law by
* ParL Hist. 491.
as Chanceller. 155
raising taxes without authority of Parliament, and other
excesses of the prerogative were passed over without any
proof; these articles were unanimously agreed to by the
House of Lords, where the ex-chancellor was particularly
odious, on account of his haughty bearing to the ancient
nobility, and even to his brother prelates.
By the Lower House they were rejected at the instance
of Cromwell, formerly the Cardinal's servant.
Campbell alludes to the ungenerous language in which
More expressed himself concerning his fallen predecessor,
but adds that with regard to his speech when Parliament
was assembled, he might have felt himself compelled to
consult the feelings of those whom he addressed, to whom
the late Chancellor had rendered himself most odious.
As chief law-officer of the Crown, More's name was
affixed to the bill ; there can be no doubt that one so
simple in his own tastes and habits, and who held in horror
all that appertained to luxury and worldliness, can have
felt but small respect for Wolsey in his ecclesiastical
character, still the remarks made in his speech are barely
justifiable even when viewed in the light in which Lord
Campbell considers them.
More at once proceeded to business, and several statutes
were speedily passed to put down extortion on the probate
of wills, and in the demands for mortuaries, and to prevent
the clergy from engaging in trade, and, to his great relief,
the session was closed on the i yth December. Not being
a member of the House, he did not openly take any part
in the debates, but he was named on committees, and the
proceedings of the Lords were entirely governed by him.
Left to attend to the business of Chancery, he began by
156 Sir Thomas More
an order that no sttbpcena should issue till a bill had been
filed, signed by the attorney, and he himself having perused
it, had granted a fiat for the commencement of the suit j
abuses had multiplied during the late chancellorship,
writs of subpoena had been granted on payment of the fees,
without examining whether there was a chance of the
innocent being involved in the misery of Chancery suits,
several causes had stood over even for twenty years, and
people were wont to say that "no one could hope fora
favourable judgment unless his fingers were tipt with gold,"*
caused probably by the fees and gratuities demanded by
the Cardinal's servants. Once, a very foolish bill was
brought to More, who at once combined humour and
justice, for it was signed " A. Tubbe," and he wrote
immediately above the signature, " A Tale of."
The attorney being told that the Lord Chancellor was
satisfied with his bill, took it at once to his clients, who
immediately detected the jest*
He was cautious in granting injunctions whilst he was
Lord Chancellor, and, says Lord Campbell, it was his opinion
that law and equity might be beneficially administered by
the same tribunal, and he strove to induce the common law
judges to relax the rigour of their rules, so as to meet the
justice of particular cases, and, not succeeding, he resolutely
examined their proceedings, stayed trials and executions,
wherever it seemed to him that wrong would be done, from
their refusal to remedy the effects of accident, to enforce
the performance of trusts, or to prevent secret frauds from
being profitable to the parties concerned in them.
These new rules, however, occasioned some murmuring
M ore's Roper.
as Chancellor. 157
from various of the Judges, which came to the ears of Roper,
and were by him made known to his father-in-law. " They
shall have little cause to find fault with me for that," said Sir
Thomas, and he at once ordered one Mr. Crooke, chief of
the six clerks, to make a dockett * containing the whole
number and causes of all such injunctions as in his time had
already passed, or at present depended in any of the King's
Courts at Westminster before him. This being done, he
invited all the Judges to dine with him in the Council
Chamber at Westminster Hall, and after they had dined, told
them the reason why he had made so many injunctions,
when they one and all declared that in his place they would
have done no less. He then promised them that if they,
who could so easily modify the rigour of the law, would use
their own discretion, and mitigate its severity where needful,,
he would grant no more injunctions, to which, on their
refusing, then said More :
" You, yourselves, my lords, drive me to this necessity,,
so do not blame me if I seek to relieve the poor whom I may
find in need." To Roper he afterwards said :
" I can see, son, why they do not like this, they think that
by the verdict of a jury they may cast off all blame from
themselves on the poor men who hold it, whom they rely on
as their defence. So T am obliged to abide the chance of
their blame."t
Very seldom had he any leisure time, for so honest and
indeed perfect was he in the discharge of his duties as
judge, that not only was his court thronged by suitors, but
* A small piece of paper or parchment containing the effect of a
larger writing. Cowers Law Interpreter.
t Roper.
jij8 Sir Thomas More
when the hours devoted to his public duties were over, he
acted in his own house as arbitrator. One may fancy this
great and good man, in the quietude of his own beloved
home at Chelsea, stealing away from his family to some chamber
kept for the use of unfortunate persons who had no money
to pay the expenses of a lawsuit, and there, seated before
the contending parties, or pacing up and down the room,
listening to the tale of each, acting as umpire, reconciling
them, adjusting their differences, and sending them con-
tented to their homes.
This novel mode of procedure, however, did not always
please those around him, and on one occasion Dauncey,
one of his sons-in-law, represented to him that when
Cardinal Wolsey was chancellor, not only those of his
privy chamber, but also his door-keeper, made great gains
under him, and seeing he was the husband of one of his
daughters, and still attended upon him, he thought he ought
in all reason to do the same. " But he was so ready to
hear every man's cause, both rich and poor, and would
keep no doors shut from them, that he could find no gains
at all, which discouraged him exceedingly. Some for
friendship, some for relationship, and others for profit,
would gladly have had him help to bring them to his
presence." But," added he, " were I to take anything of
them, I should do them a great wrong, for they can do as
much for themselves as I can do for them, which state of
things, though commendable in you, sir, is to me unprofit-
able." "I do not mislike, son, that your conscience is so
scrupulous," replied Sir Thomas, " but there may be many
other ways in which I may do good to you, and be of use
to your friend. Sometimes by a word I may help him, or
as Chancellor. 159
else by a letter, if he hath a cause depending before myself.
At your entreaty I may hear his cause before that of
another. And if it be not one of the best, I may urge the
parties to accommodate their differences by means of arbi-
tration; but, of this be certain, that if those before me
require justice and equity, then, although my father (whom I
dearly love) were on one side, and the devil (whom I hate)
were on the other, his cause being first, the devil should
have his right"
Indeed his love of justice was so great that he never
digressed one iota from it for any tie of kindred or friendship,
thus, when another son-in-law, Heron, had a cause in Chan-
cery pending before Sir Thomas, he trusted on being
favoured because he was " the most affectionate of fathers,"
and could not be persuaded to agree to any reasonable
decision, but at length-Sir Thomas made a flat decree against
him.
All who chose to come before him with their petitions
were allowed to do so, and he gave them redress when in
his power, according to law and his conscience, and " The
poorer and the meaner the applicant was, the more affably
he would speak unto him, the more heartily he would
hearken to his cause, and with speedy trial dispatch him.*
Not only did he himself refuse all corrupt offers that were
made to him, but he took stringent means to prevent those
connected with him from doing so also, and this it was
which called forth the remonstrance of his son-in-law quoted
above."
Owing to his quickness and diligence, in the course of a
few terms all the old arrears were subdued, and every cause
* More.
x6o Sir Thomas More
decided as soon as ready for hearing. He examined all
cases that came before him like an arbitrator. On once
being told by the officer that there was not another cause or
petition to be set before him, he ordered the fact to be
entered on record, as it had never happened before, and a
prophesy was then entered which has been fully verified :
When MORE some time had Chancellor been,
No more suits did remain ;
The same shall never more be seen
Till MORE be there again.
" Nor did this great man despise a practical joke.
While he held his city office he used regularly to attend
the Old Bailey Sessions, where there was a tiresome old
justice, ' who was wont to chide the poor men that had their
purses cut for not keeping them more warily, saying that
their negligence was the cause that there were so many cut-
purses brought thither/ To stop this prosing, More at last
went to a celebrated cut -purse then in prison, who was to be
tried next day, and promised to stand his friend if he would
cut this justice's purse while he sat on the bench trying him.
The thief being arraigned at the sitting of the court next
morning, said he could excuse himself sufficiently if he were
but permitted to speak in private to one on the bench. He
was bid to choose whom he would, and he chose that grave
old justice, who had then his pouch at his girdle. The
thief stepped up to him, and while he rounded him in the
ear, cunningly cut his purse, and, taking his leave, solemnly
went back to his place. From the agreed signal, More,
knowing that the deed was done, proposed a small sub-
scription for the poor needy fellow, who had been
acquitted, himself setting a liberal example. The old
as Chancellor. 161
justice, after some hesitation, expressed his willingness to
give a trifle ; but, finding his purse cut away, expressed the
greatest astonishment, as he said he was sure he had it when
he took his seat in court that morning. More replied, in a
pleasant manner, ' What ! will you charge your brethren of
the bench with felony ?' The justice, becoming angry and
ashamed, Sir Thomas called the thief and desired him to
deliver up the purse, counselling the worthy justice hereafter
not to be so bitter a censurer of innocent men's negligence,
since he himself could not keep his purse safe when presiding
as a judge at the trial of cut-purses."
Of course the household at Chelsea possessed the ancient
appendage of a Fool, and Pattison, for such was his name,
appears in Holbein's painting of the More family, an anec-
dote of whom appears in the II Moro, before quoted, and
has been copied into the various biographies of More, afford-
ing an instance that the folly of these simple beings must
sometimes have made them a source of real annoyance and
mortification. Sir Thomas relates in the Dialogue in the
work I have named that " Pattison was yesterday standing
by the table while we were at dinner, and seeing a gentleman
among the company, with an unusually large nose, after
he had gazed for some time upon the gentleman's face, he
said aloud, to my great annoyance, ' What a terrific nose
that gentleman has got.' As we all affected not to hear him,
that the good man might not be abashed, Pattison perceived
that he had made a mistake and endeavoured to set himself
right by saying, * How I lyed in my throat, when I said that
gentleman's nose was so monstrously large ; on the faith of
a gentleman it really is rather a small one.' At this, all
being greatly inclined to laugh, I made a sign that the fool
M
1 62 Sir Thomas More
should be turned out of the room. But Pattison, not wishing
for his own credit's sake that this should be the termination
of the affair (because he was always accustomed to boast,
as above every other merit he possessed, that whatever he
commenced he brought to a happy conclusion), to bring this
affair to a good end, he placed himself in my seat at the
head of the table, and said aloud, ' There is one thing I
would have you know, that gentleman there has not the
least atom of a nose.'
The unpretending nature of the private life of Sir Thomas
More was in keeping with the simplicity of his career in
public. The surroundings of his Chelsea home underwent
no change, and the guests who partook of the bounteous
liberality of the Lord Chancellor, observed that he himself,
partook but of one dish, and that was generally salted beef,
indeed coarse brown bread and cheese, with perhaps a little
fruit and milk, was the food he best liked.
Wine he rarely touched, and so far from his health
suffering from so singularly abstemious a diet, it is possible
the great powers of his mind, and the rapidity with which
he discharged his multiplied and arduous duties may be
ascribed to this mode of life.
Early rising and temperate habits injure no one, and
assuredly prolong life ; had More been a lover of the table
and risen late, he never could have got through so vast an
amount of work, or have maintained the powers of his mind
in full vigour.
Unlike his predecessor, whose love of pomp and display
was so great, that crosses, pillars, and poleaxes were borne
before him when he went to administer justice, More avoided
all outward parade and show of ostentation, and even on
as Chancellor. 163
Sundays, whilst in his high office as Lord Chancellor, instead
of striving to outvie the nobles at the Court, then held at
Greenwich, he would walk on foot to church. It was a
favourite practice of More's to serve the Mass of his friend
Dr. Larke, when in his parish church at Chelsea, and himself
to bear the cross in procession around it, or assist in bearing
the canopy in processions of the Blessed Sacrament.
In Rogation Week, when they were necessarily very long,
and he had followed those who carried the rood round the
parish, being advised to use a horse on account of his high
dignity, he replied " It beseemeth not the servant to follow
his master, prancing on cock-horse, whilst his lord is going
on foot" During the celebration of High Mass at Chelsea,
when he was with his family at the parish church, he would
put on a surplice, and, entering the chancel, he always sung
along with the choristers.
On one occasion, when the Duke of Norfolk was
coming to dine with him, coming into the church on his way,
he was surprised to find him thus employed, and as they
walked home together, after Mass was over, the Duke,
unable to appreciate the motives that actuated More, who
knew that even small actions become great when done in
God's service, with a pure intention, and whose worldly
mind led him to view More's conduct in the light of one who
was practising a voluntary self-abasement, exclaimed " God
save us, my Lord Chancellor! God save us, my Lord
Chancellor, a parish clerk ! A parish clerk 1 You dishonour
the King and his office." " Nay," replied Sir Thomas with a
smile; "your grace must not think that the King, your
master and mine, will be offended with me for serving hit
master, or thereby account his office dishonoured."
164 Sir Thomas More
The inflexible love of justice by which More was distin-
guished, and which was never known to waver for friend or
foe, and to which we have alluded before, is strikingly
manifested in an amusing anecdote told by Lady More.
It happened that she had become possessed of a little
dog, of which she had become very fond, and she had kept
it carefully enough for some two or three weeks. It was, in
fact, the property of a beggar-woman, who, finding out in
whose keeping the animal was, presente dherself before the
Chancellor, as he was sitting hearing causes in his hall,
telling him that his lady withheld her dog from her. Dame
Alice was presently sent for, together with the dog, which
Sir Thomas, holding in his hands, bade his wife stand at
the upper end of the hall, and the beggar at the lower end,
and ordered both of them to call the animal.
The dog ran immediately to the beggar-woman, thus
making it clear to all present to whom he really belonged.
On seeing this, said More" Be contented, Dame, for
the dog is none of yours."
The lady, however, expressed dissatisfaction at the Chan-
cellor's judgment, and made the beggar an offer of a piece
of gold, sufficient to have paid for three dogs, so she re-
mained mistress of the animal, this time by good right.
"Solomon himself could not have delivered a more equitable
judgment." *
It is said that a friend of his had taken great pains about
a dull and heavy book ; he would not take any denial, but
waS resolved Sir Thomas should read it before it was
printed, with a safe conscience the Chancellor could not
* Campbell.
as Chancellor. 165
praise the work, and seeing nothing in it worth printing, he
said:
" If it were in verse, it would be better, methinks." On
which the author took it away and turned it into verse, and
bringing it to him again, Sir Thomas, looking it over, said,
" Yea, marry now it is somewhat, for it is rhyme, and before
it was neither rhyme nor reason."
Meanwhile the Lord Chancellor had his hours of anxious
musing respecting the King's contemplated divorce, a matter
which also preyed heavily on the mind of Pope Clement,
who had hoped that the Cardinal, in virtue of his ordinary
powers, would have pronounced judgment without asking
his consent or interfering with his authority. At length,
yielding to the solicitations of the Emperor, he forbade Henry
to marry before the sentence of divorce was published, and
in the interim to treat Katherine as his wife. Ambassadors
from Henry then visited the Pope, amongst whom was the
Earl of Wiltshire, Anne's father. He received them
graciously, but when they were presented to the Emperor,
who was with the Pope, that prince did not attempt to con-
ceal his feelings at the sight of the father of his aunt's rival.
" Stop, sir," said the Emperor, " allow your colleagues to
speak ; you are a party to the cause." The Earl replied
firmly that he did not come there as a father defending the
interests of his child, but as a subject representing the
person of his sovereign. As the price of Charles' consent to
the divorce, the ambassador offered him 300,000 crowns, the
restoration of the marriage portion paid with Katherine, and
security for a maintenance suitable to her birth during her
life. He replied indignantly, " He was not a merchant to
sell the honour of his aunt."
1 66 Sir Thomas More
The new ministers then condescended to profit by the ad vice
of Wolsey, whom they had supplanted, and to obtain in
favour of the divorce, the opinions of the universities and
the most celebrated divines in Europe. In Italy the King's
agents were numerous, their success and failure were nearly
balanced; from the Pontiff they had procured a breve
exhorting every man to speak his mind without fear or
favour.* In the states of Germany they were less successful,
even the reformed divines, with a few exceptions, condemned
the divorce, and Luther wrote to Barnes, the royal agent,
that he would rather allow the King to have two wives at
once than separate from Katharine to marry another woman.
In France, after a bribe of two millions of crowns, the assent
of the University of Paris was won only by the basest
manoeuvres.
It had been originally intended to lay before the Pontiff
this mass of opinions as the voice of the Christian world,
but Clement knew (and Henry was aware that he knew) the
arts by which they had been extorted, so a letter was sent to
the Pope instead, subscribed by the lords spiritual and
temporal and the most influential of the commoners, com-
plaining of the delays of Clement, representing the
evils of a disputed succession, and threatening to remedy
the evil without his interference.
Clement's reply was mild, but firm, he answered that if
lawless remedies were used, those who employed them must
answer for the result ; that he would shew the King every
indulgence and favour, but would not, through gratitude to
man, violate the commandments of God.
The King was then informed that the Imperialists were
* In every city from Venice to Rome royal agents were to be seen
distributing money in reward for a signature. Lingard.
as Chancellor. 167
most urgent in their solicitations, and that Clement was
about to issue a breve forbidding any ecclesiastical court
from giving judgment in the case. It was observed that the
King became pensive, he began to waver and appeared
inclined to give up the struggle, his half formed resolve
reached the ears of Anne Boleyn, her ruin and that of her
advocates was imminent, but they were saved by Cromwell,
who, as the King's evil genius, determined, to use his own
words, "to make or mar," and he asked for an audience of
Henry.
" Affection and duty would not suffer him to be silent,"
said he, " when he witnessed his sovereign's anxiety, why not
throw off the yoke of Rome, and declare himself the head
of the Church within his own realms."
Henry listened with a glad surprise to this evil genius ;
his passion for Anne Boleyn was flattered, his thirst of
wealth, his greed of power. He thanked Cromwell and
ordered him to be sworn of his Privy Council. It was
evident, however, even to Cromwell, that this change would
meet with much opposition, but his cunning soon contrived a
plan to secure submission.* When the statutes of premunire
were passed, a power was given to the Sovereign to modify
or suspend their operation at his discretion, and it had been
usual for the King to grant letters of license to individuals
who meant to act, or who had acted, against these statutes.
Hence Wolsey had taken out a patent under the great seal
authorising him to exercise the legantine authority, nor did
any one for fifteen years accuse him of violating the law r
When, however, he was indicted for the offence, he refused
on motives of prudence, to plead the royal permission, and
suffered judgment to pass against him. Now, on the ground
* Lingard.
1 68 Sir Thomas More
of his conviction, it was argued that all the clergy were
guilty, as, admitting his jurisdiction, they had become his
fautors and abettors, and an information was filed, ordered
by Henry, against the whole body in the Court of King's
Bench, though he had himself requested the dignity of
Legate for his once favoured minister. A present of io y ooo
pounds was offered in return for a full pardon, but to the
grief and astonishment of the clergy Henry refused the
proposal, unless in the preamble to the grant, a clause were
introduced acknowledging him to be the protector and only
supreme head of the Church in England. Three days were
spent in useless consultation, and the King then sent a
positive message that he would allow of no alteration than the
addition of the words "under God." Fisher and Warham,
by their strong language, caused an amendment to be intro-
duced, with the King's permission, which was carried by
consent of both houses. Tunstal, Bishop of Durham, had
the courage to protest against the assumption of this title
by the King. The grant was then made in the usual
manner, and the following clause was adopted, " so far as
the law of God will permit," quantum per legem Da licet.
The introduction of these words served to invalidate the
whole recognition, but a beginning was made, and the above
clause, the King felt, might be expunged later.
More's own words make known to us, that in the earlier
part of his life he had not such clear views of the supremacy
of the Pope, his later studies, however, on that point, carried
perfect conviction to his mind. In the midst of his
numerous avocations, he now set himself to expose the false
doctrines of the sectarians around him, and exposed himself to
the enmity of all who were joining the new religionists, thus
as Chancellor. 169
the Water Bailiff of the city, who had formerly been in his
employment, could not restrain his anger at the malicious
and envious speeches which he heard from certain merchants,
regarding his old master, and unable to contain himself he
vented what he felt in the following manner, on accom-
panying Sir Thomas to his barge.
" Were I in your place, and high in favour and authority
with the King, I would not allow myself to be so villainously
slandered. You should summon them before you and
punish them."
But nothing could shake the imperturbable calmness of
More, who replied, with a smile, " Why, Mr. Water Bailiff,
should you want me to punish these men. I receive greater
benefits from them than from all of you who are my
friends, let them, in God's name, speak as foully of me as
they list ; and, as long as their arrows do not hurt me, what
need I care ; but if they once hurt it would indeed be a
trouble ; but, by God's help, I hope that will never be. I
have more cause, my good friend, to pity than to be angry
with them."
But the aspect of the outer world raised grave fears in the
otherwise calm and well tempered mind of this Christian
philosopher and statesman. Of himself, as he truly said,
the world might talk as it listed, but the peace of the
Stale, above all the peace and prosperity of the Church, to
which he was so firmly attached, harrassed him not a little ;
and so Roper tells us that, one day when they were walking
together by the banks of the Thames, at Chelsea, said he,
" Upon condition that these things were well established
in Christendom, I would to our Lord, son Roper, that I were
put in a sack and cast in the Thames."
170 Sir Thomas More
"What great things be these, sir," quoth I, " that you so
wish."
" Wouldst thou really know, son Roper ?"
" Ah, marry with a good will, sir, an it please you to tell
me."
" In faith, son, they be these : the first, that whereas the
great majority of Christian kings are at war, that they were
all in universal peace ; the second, that even as the Church
of Christ is sore afflicted with many errors and heresies, it
were well settled in perfect uniformity of religion ; and the
third, that, as the matter of the King's marriage is now
come in question, it were to the glory of God and peace of
all parties brought to a happy conclusion." "Whereby,"
continues Roper, "as far as I could understand, he judged
that otherwise it would disturb great part of the Christian
world."
More has been charged with being a persecutor. The
charge, however, rests on the notoriously false Fox, the
Martyrologist, Burnet, and others of the same stamp.
"It is," says Erasmus, "a sufficient proof of the clemency
of More, that whilst he was Chancellor no man was executed
for these pestilent dogmas, whilst at the same time many
were put to death in France, Germany, and the Nether-
lands."
The notorious libel-monger, Fox, speaks in his Martyro-
logy of a certain tree in the Chancellor's garden, which he
called the " Tree of Truth," to which he says More was in
the habit of having obstinate heretics tied and whipped, and
that three men were confined as prisoners in his own house.
Burnet and Fox were noted for their utter disregard of
truth, and consequently we must not be surprised that the
as Chanctllor. 171
character of this great man has been thus blackened by
them, but unfortunately the charge has been handed down
even by impartial writers to the present time.
More, in his Apology, extracts from which we shall insert
later, writes " There are divers who say that such as were
in my house while I was Chancellor, I used to examine
with torments, causing them to be bound to a tree, and
there piteously beaten. This tale some of these blessed
brethren so caused to be blown about that a good friend* of
mine heard it commonly spoken of."
He was, indeed, charged with having converted his house
at Chelsea into a sort of inquisition. Of Burnham, one of
the reformers, Fox relates that he was "carried out of the
Middle Temple to the Chancellor's house at Chelsea, where
he continued in free prison awhile, till the time that Sir
Thomas More saw that he could not prevail in perverting
him to his sect. Then he cast him into prison in his own
house, and whipped him at the tree in his garden, called the
'Tree of Truth,' and after sent him to the tower to be
racked."* A story always gains by repetition, and thus it is
that the scourgings said to have been inflicted by the
tolerant Chancellor at the "Tree of Truth" have been
received as undoubted facts.
* Mart. vol. ii., p. 287.
In More's defence of himself in respect of his treatment of the
reformers, he admits the imprisonment, but denies the ill-treatment of
them, except in two cases, not ill-defended. The defence ought to be
read by all who speak of More. See it in Cayley's Memoirs of him,
p. 137. He distinctly denies the story of the "Tree of Truth."
" The lies are neither few nor small," says More, " which many of the
blessed brethren have made, and daily yet make of me. Campbell.
172 Sir Thomas More
The crimes against religion for which he gave over
offenders to the officers of the Marshalsea Prison were rob-
bery, sacrilege, and murder, stealing a pyx, and profaning the
Blessed Sacrament. But concerning heretics, save only
their safe keeping, he writes " I never caused any such
thing to be done to them in all my life, save one of them, a
child, and servant of my own. This child had previously
served an Apostate priest, who had taught him to blaspheme
the Holy Sacrament, which heresy he began to teach
another child in my house, who declared the thing." The
punishment which More gave the child was a good
whipping.
The other case was of one who, from heresy, had become
raving mad. He had been for some time in Bedlam, where,
by the harsh treatment used in those days, he for a time re-
covered. After a while, however, his crazy fancies returned.
He wandered into the churches, and during the most solemn
part of the Mass disturbed the people. More, shrewd as he
always was, guessed that this violent fanatic was not so
mad as he appeared, in short, that it was put on to annoy
others, so on the next outbreak he caused him to be taken
by the constables, bound to a post, and beaten. "Then,"
adds More, " it appeared that his memory was good enough,
except that it went about grazing till it was beaten home.
Of all that ever came into my hands for heresy, not one of
them, so help me God, had any stripe or stroke given them,
no, not so much as a filip on the forehead, all I had to do
was the sure keeping of them, and yet not so sure either, but
that George Constantine found means to steal away from
me, and some say that when he was gotten away, I was
as Chancellor. 173.
fallen for anger in a wonderful rage. But surelye, though I
would not have suffered him to go, if it had pleased him to
have tarried still in the stocks, yet neither was I then so
heavye for the losse, but that I had youth enough left
me to wear it out, nor so angry with any man of mine that
I spoke them any evil word for the matter, more than to
my porter. That he should see the stocks mended and
locked fast, that the prisoner stole not in again. I will
never be so unreasonable as to be angry with a man who, ill
at ease, changes his position for a better." *
About this time Sir Thomas lost his father, who had
reached a good old age, the death of the judge however,
brought no accession of worldly wealth to his son, the small
property left by Sir John More, being settled on his wife as
long as she lived ; she survived the Chancellor by several
years.
Sir Thomas was, for his rank, a poor man; his charity and '
liberality was unbounded, whilst himself living abstemiously
he kept a bountiful table ; for his elevated rank obliged him
to entertain the rich and powerful. Of his professional in-
come, once so large, nothing was laid by, and Cresacre More,
tells us that his benefactions to the poor, and his liberality
to the Church, made great demands on his purse.
Can we not fancy the distress of Lady More when the
barns were burnt, with the store of corn housed up for use,
and that she, the careful, keen, shrewd housekeeper, was
counting up at what cost to herself and her husband, who set
so lit.le store by that which she so valued, for, f Roper says,
* More's English Works, page 902, vol. I.
f Roper.
174 Sir Thomas More
that in ready money he had not the worth of one hundred
pounds, and had made no purchases of land beyond the
value of twenty marks a year, previous to his acceptance of
the Great Seal.
The poverty of More was indeed so well known as to
make the Bishops resolve to make him an offering from their
own purses, on remembering the pains and labour he had
taken to serve the Catholic faith, by his writings in its defence j
they therefore called together many of the clergy, and agreed
to make him up from among themselves as much as four
thousand pounds, to the payment of which (and such a sum
in those days was no trifling matter) every bishop and abbot,
with each of the clergy, contributed to the best of their
power.
Then, those of his most intimate friends amongst the
bishops called upon him at Chelsea, telling him they con-
sidered themselves bound to reward him for the pains he
had taken in helping them, with his pen, to battle against
the prevalent errors of the times, adding, that it was not,
indeed, in their power to requite him as he deserved, but
that they presented him with this small sum on behalf of
the members of the Convocation, begging him to take it of
them in good part.
And the Chancellor answered them as follows :
" It is no small comfort to me, my lords, that men so wise
and learned have so well accepted of my simple doings, for
which I never thought of any reward save from God alone.
So give I most humble thanks unto your lordships, for all
your bountiful and friendly consideration, but I purpose not
to receive anything from you."
" But I pray you refuse not our offering," said the Bishop
as Chancellor. 175
of Bath, "truly it is but a poor acknowledgement of the
matchless services you have rendered to the Church, and
those who have contnbuted to raise this sum as a feeble
testimony of their personal regard for you, will feel grieved
by your refusal." But More was still inexorable.
"Then, my Lord Chancellor," said Tunstsl, Bishop of
Durham, "I beseech you take it to bestow upon your wife
and children, and we will be well content.''
In this remark the Bishop of Bath concurred.
" Not so, my lords," replied the still obstinate Chancellor,
"I had rather see it all cast in the Thames than that I or mine
should touch one penny of it, for though your offer, my lords,
is indeed most honourable, yet have I so much regard for
my pleasure and so little for my profit, that I would not for
much more money, have lost the rest of so many nights
as was spent upon the same, and yet, on condition all here-
sies were suppressed, I am quite willing that all my works
be speedily burned."
Finding it impossible to make More revoke his determina-
tion, the Bishops were fain to depart, and restore to each of
the contributors the sura he had advanced. A rumour soon
got about, however, to the effect that the clergy had paid
him a large sum of money, and the men of the new opinions
at once declared that More had been bribed to write against
them. In his Apology, before alluded to, in answer to these
calumnies, he writes: "As for all the landes and fees that I
have in all England, besides such as I have of the King's
most noble grace, they are not at this day worth, yearly, nor
shall be while my mother-in-law liveth, the sum of full fifty
pounds, and thereof have I some by my wife, and some by
my father, whose soul our Lord assoil, and some also have I
1 7 6 Sir Thomas More
purchased myself, some few have I of temporal men, and
thus may every man well guess that I have no very great
part of my living by the clergy to make me partial on their
side."
"And over than this, shall I truly say, that of all the yearly
living that I have of the King's gracious gift, I have not one
groat by the means of any spiritual man, but farre above my
deserving have had it, onlye by his own singular bounty, and
goodness and special favour towards me."
And verily, of any such yearly fees as I have to my living
at this time or any other, I have not had one groat granted
me since I first wrote, or went about to write, my dialogue,
and that ye wot well, was the first work I wrote on these
matters."
" But, then," say the brethren, as their holy father writeth
and telleth also divers whom he talketh with, " I have taken
great rewards in readye money, of divers of the clergye, for
making of my booke. In good faith I will not say nay, but
that some good and honourable men of them, would, in
reward of my good will and my labour against these heretics,
have given me much more than ever I could or did deserve.
But I dare take God and themselves also to record, that trjey
all could never fee me with one penny thereof (but as I
plainly told them) I would rather have cast their money in
the Thames than take it, for, albeit, as indeed they were
both good men and honourable, yet look I for my thanks of
God, that is their better."
Meanwhile there were many persons who were, doubtless,
aware that in the end, as far as this world went, his inflexi-
bility would cost him dear, and they did not scruple to
reproach hjm with ingratitude to the King, thus, Lord
as Chancellor. 177
Manners, who had without scruple supported all the new
measures, and was loud in favour of the divorce, sarcastically
taunted him, saying, " But so says the old proverb, Honores
mutant Mores" *
" Yes," replied More, who was always ready with a quick,
witted answer, " it is a trite proverb, if rightly translated, for
Mores is Latin for Manners."
He was never at a loss for witty answers. Little care had
he indeed for money, nevertheless, having lent a large sum
to a person of means, who shewed no disposition to repay
the sum advanced, More asked him for the amount, to which
his debtor replied by bidding him "remember that he
should die, God knoweth," he added " how soon," adding the
sentence in Latin, Memento Morieris.
" How say you, Sir ?" replied his witty creditor, '' Methinks
you put yourself in mind of your duty, by saying Memento
Morieris, remember More's money."t
He always uttered his jests with a grave countenance, yet
none could converse with him but were filled with mirth at
his witticisms.
Meanwhile More's position as Chancellor became everyday
more painful, the inhibitory breve had been signed by the
Pope, and published with the usual solemnity in Flanders ;
the most furious discussions raged amongst all classes, the
Duke of Norfolk espoused the side of the King, the
Duchess that of the Queen, indeed the women of all classes,
* Honours change Manners.
t The learned reader will understand that the point of the pun lies in
the word Morieiis (thou shall die), for which the Chancellor substituted
the words Mori Aeris. Anglice, More's brass, More's money.
N
!y8 Sir Thomas More
from high to low, ranked themselves amongst the partisans
of Katharine.
The horror More entertained of heresy, and his belief
that wholesale disorder would follow in the wake of religious
dissension made him shrink with terror from whatever would
tend to disruption with the supreme Pontiff. The increasing
distraction on the Continent, where the change to heresy was
making progress, strengthened these feelings. He had agreed,
however, to the plan of consulting the universities, and to
the late address to the Pope and was prevailed upon by the
King and Cromwell to go down with twelve spiritual and
temporal Peers to the House, and then deliver the following
address, meant to prepare the world for what might follow :
u You of this worshipful house, I am sure you be not so
ignorant, but you know well that the King, our Sovereign
Lord, hath married his brother's wife ; for she was wedded
to his brother, Prince Arthur, and therefore you may surely
say that he hath married his brother's wife, if this marriage
be good as so many do doubt. Wherefore the King, like a
virtuous Prince, willing to be satisfied in his conscience, and
also for the surety of his realm, hath, with great deliberation,
consulted with great clerks, and hath sent my Lord of London,
here present, to the chief universities of all Christendom,
to know their opinion and judgments in that matter; and,
although the universities of Oxford and Cambridge had been
sufficient to discuss the cause, yet this being in his realm,
and to avoid all suspicion of partiality, he hath sent into the
realms of France, Italy, the Pope's dominions, and the
Venetians, to know their judgment in that behalf, which have
concluded, written, and sealed their determinations, accor-
ding as you shall hear read." A box was then opened, and
as Chancellor. 179
many opinions were then read all on one side, holding the
marriage void. Whereupon the Chancellor said, "Now you
of this^Commons House may report in your homes what
you have seen and heard, and then all men shall perceive
that the King hath not attempted this matter of will or
pleasure, as some strangers report, but only for the discharge
of his conscience, and the security of the succession of his
realm. This is the cause of our repair hither to you, and
now we will all depart"
Whoever reads this address must perceive the Chan-
cellor's embarrassment must have been great, and his anxiety
distressing at having to speak on this subject without saying
anything by which he might be compromised, either with the
King or the Church. In his office ' as Lord Chancellor he
must have felt that he was unable to refuse to address the
House. Several lords were then deputed to wait on the
Queen, and to request that, for the quiet of the King's
conscience, she would refer the matter to the decision of
four spiritual and four temporal peers. "God grant him a
quiet conscience," said she, "but this shall be your answer :
I am married to him by order of Holy Church, and so I will
abide until the Court of Rome, which was privy to the
beginning, shall have made thereof an end."
A second deputation was sent with an order for her to
leave the palace at Windsor.
" Go where I may, " she answered, " I shall still be his
lawful wife."
In obedience to the King she repaired to Ampthill, where,
if she was no longer treated as Queen, she np longer
witnessed the ascendancy of her rival.
" The first that openly resisted or reprehended the King
180 Str Thomas More
touching his marriage with Anne, was one Friar Fey to, a
simple man, yet very devout of the order of the Observants ;
this man, preaching at Greenwich, on the 22nd chap, of the
third book of Kings thus addressed Henry, saying
" Even as the dogs licked the blood of Achab, even
so shall the dogs lick thy blood, O King," and therewithal he
spake of the lying prophets which abused the King.' I am,
quoth he, ' that Micheas whom thou wilt hate, because I must
tell thee truly that this marriage is unlawful, and I know I
shall eat the bread of affliction, and drink the water of sorrow,
yet because our Lord hath put it into my mouth.' Then
when he had strongly inveighed against the King's second
marriage to dissuade him from it, he also said, ' there are
many other preachers, yea, too many, who preach and per-
suade thee otherwise, feeding thy folly and vain affections
upon hope of their own worldly promotion, and by that means
they betray thy soul, thy honor, and posterity, to obtain fat
benefices, to become rich Abbots, and get episcopal jurisdic-
tion, and other ecclesiastical dignities, these I say are the
four hundred prophets, who in the spirit of lying seek to
deceive thee, but take good heed lest thou, being seduced,
shalt find Achab's punishment, which was to have his blood
licked up by the dogs,' and adding, 'it was one of the greatest
miseries of princes to be daily abused by flatterers.' The
King being thus reproved bore it patiently, and did no violence
to Peyto, but the next Sunday, being the 8th of May, Doctor
Curwin preached in the same place, who most sharply repre-
hended Peyto and his preaching called him dog, slanderer,
base beggarly Friar, rebel and traitor,' saying, ' that no sub-
ject should speak so maliciously to princes, and having said
much more to that effect, and in commendation of the King's
as Chancellor. 181
marriage, thereby to establish his progeny in his seat for ever.'
He then supposing he had utterly silenced Peyto and his
partisans raised his voice and said, ' I speak to thee, Peyto,
who makest thyself Micheas, that thou mayest speak evil of
kings, but now thou art not to be found, having fled for fear
and shame, as being unable to answer my arguments.'" But
whilst he thus spoke one Elstow, a brother Friar to Peyto,
who was standing in the roodloft, with a loud voice replied
to Doctor Curwin,
" Good Sir, you know that Father Peyto, as he was com-
manded, hath gone to a provincial council, holden at Canter-
bury, and not fled for fear of you, for to-morrow he will return
again ; in the meantime I am here as another Micheas, and
will lay down my life to prove all these things true, which
he hath taught out of the Holy Scriptures, and to this combat
I challenge thee before God and all equal judges, even unto
thee, Curwin, I say, which art one of the four hundred pro-
phets into whom the spirit of lying hath entered, and seeketh
by adultery to establish succession, more for thy own vain-
glory, and hope of promotion, than for discharge of thy
clogged conscience, and the King's salvation."
"Elstow waxed hot, and spoke earnestly, so they could not
make him cease speaking until the King bade him hold his
peace, and gave orders that he and Peyto should be convened
before the council, which was done the next day, and when
the lords had rebuked them, then the Earl of Essex told
them that they deserved to be put in a sack and cast into the
Thames, at which Elstow smiled and said, " Threaten these
things to rich and dainty folk which are clothed in purple
and fine linen, who fare deliciously and have their hope in
this world, but we esteem them not, and rejoice, that in the
1 82 Sir Thomas More as Chancellor.
discharge of our duties, we are driven hence, and thank God
we know the way to heaven to be as near by water as by
land, and so we care not which way we go."
" These Friars, and all the rest of their order, were shortly
after banished, and after these none openly opposed them-
selves against the King. Dr. Cur win was made Dean of
Hereford, after that, Archbishop of Dublin, and after that,
Bishop of Oxford, in Queen Mary's time." *
Each recurring day made it evident to More that a rup-
ture with Rome must surely happen, his situation became
more and more embarrassing, he had been again pressed by
Henry regarding the divorce, and falling on his knees, he
had reminded him of his own words when delivering to him
the Great Seal, bidding him
" Look first to God, and after God to him," adding :
" And God knoweth how much it paineth me that in this
matter I cannot serve your Grace."
Henry on this occasion had agreed that when the subject
was introduced in the Council Chamber, More should be
allowed to withdraw ; but he soon observed a coldness in
the King's manner to himself, and felt the necessity of
taking a step to which we will devote another chapter.
* Stow's Chronicles.
CHAPTER XI.
GIVING UP THE GREAT SEAL.
THE aversion More felt to his late task, made him alive to
the fact that others still more painful and repugnant to his
feelings, would have to be gone through should he continue
in office ; to remain a faithful Catholic, and at the same time
act as Chancellor and Minister to the King, was simply
impossible.
He therefore urgently entreated his intimate friend, the
Duke of Norfolk, to plead with the King for leave to
retire from office, and he felt the task the easier, inasmuch as
he had lately suffered from a complaint of the chest, brought
on, it was supposed, by constant stooping over the writing
table.
After repeated solicitations, the Duke obtained the desired
leave, and Sir Thomas waited upon the King at Greenwich
to deliver up the Great Seal, which he courteously received
and Henry, as he received it from the hand of the Chan-
cellor, thanked him for his good services, adding, "In any
future suit which you may hereafter have, which may affect
either your honour or your profit, you shall not fail to find
me a good and gracious lord."
" How true these professions were," says Cresacre More
in the life of his great ancestor, "let others judge, as the
King not only never bestowed on him the value of a single
184 Giving up the Great Seal.
penny, but robbed him and his posterity of all they possessed."
He might have added, of his head also, for surely his life
was of more consequence than his fortune.
Dignities and honours had been thrust on an unwilling
recipient, the tenor of M ore's whole life shewed this, but it
would have been a difficult matter for him to have shirked
the honours showered upon him by a Tudor Sovereign ; and
we must needs think he acted for the best, when he took
upon him the onerous charge of the Chancellorship.
However, one may imagine the joy that must have filled
his heart, when he was once more free, free for his beloved
studies, free for his sweet domestic joys, free for his dear
Margaret, whose name even has been so long banished from
these pages, whilst we have been looking over the great
event which dismembered England from the centre of
Catholic unity, and which, as it led afterwards to the very
death of her great and good father, we have noticed as far
as the length of our humble volume permitted.
Free! what joy is comprised in that word, how More's
heart must have bounded with joy as he passed out from
Eastgreenwiche, and wended his way back to Chelsea, what
joy as he folded Margaret in his arms, she whom he loved so
well, for never were father and daughter more closely united
than were these two, she must have known this secret, as she
did all others, and how, for his dear sake, she must have
rejoiced when he whispered in her ear : "Sweet Meg, I am
free."
The next day was a holiday, probably the Feast of the
Ascension, for More resigned the Great Seal on the loth of
May, and he doubtless dreaded to confront Dame Alice,
with what she was sure to consider the saddest of all sad
Giving up the Great Seal. 185
news, so he resolved to break it to her in Chelsea church ;
a novel expedient, but the manner in which it was done, was
quite in keeping with the humourous character of the
ex-chancellor.
When Mass was over, More being generally in the chancel
with the choristers, it was the custom for one of the attend-
ants to go to the seat used by Lady More and her family,
and inform her if "my lord," had already gone, " but on this
day, the first day that he was "free," he went himself and
cap in hand, with a low bow, said he to Lady More " May
it please your ladyship to come forth, for my lord has gone."
Mistress Alice naturally thought my lord was jesting
with her, according to his old fashion, but on their way
home, he told her the truth in sober earnest, explaining to
her that in very truth, he was " my lord" no longer.
One can well imagine the feelir:gs of such a woman as
Lady More is described at such an announcement ; her
husband's large emoluments were gone, her own dignity, also;
one may really pity her for what she must have felt, when
she ascertained that what she had considered as a jest, was
the sober unvarnished truth.
Was not her inelegant phrase but too true ; did she speak
amiss when she had said, "you are always making goslings
in the ashes?''
More must surely have found it a hard matter to stop her
shrewish tongue on this occasion, in which the patience of
far more amiable and gentle women would have been tried,
so he turned the conversation and began to criticise the
fashion of her dress, saying, he espied a great fault in it that
morning.
For a few moments it changed the topic on which Lady
i86 Giving up the Great Seal.
More's thoughts were bent, and she called her daughters to
her, bidding them say " what was amiss in her costume, "
and she being angry that none of them could see anything
wrong, Sir Thomas then said, "Do you see, children, that
your mother's nose is somewhat awry." At these words poor
Lady More broke from him in a great rage.
All which he did to make her think the less of her decay
of honour, which else would have troubled her sore.*
Now to face his family and dependents, and tell them
they must all disperse, must here have been the trouble, and
the only trouble More felt in his altered position ; as usual,
he tried to get over his task in his humorous way ; so he
called his household together, his children, servants, and
retainers, many of whom, according to the custom of the
times, were men of family and position, and telling them
that he was no longer Lord Chancellor, and that in future
he could not keep up such an establishment as hitherto, he
demanded of them individually what kind of service they
wished to procure, and whether they would like to enter
that of any nobleman, as if so he would try to settle each
one to his liking.
Moved even to tears, they declared they would sooner
serve him for nothing than others for a salary, but to this
he would not agree, and he arranged so as to place them
all in good situations.
But the greatest trial was to part from his children, those
children who had dwelt beneath his roof even after they
had entered the married state ; but mastering his emotion,
he called them all about him, and bade them consult with
him as to what they had best do, as now he had resigned
* More.
Giving up the Great Seal. 187
his office, he could not keep them with him as he had
hitherto done.
But neither sons nor daughters spoke a word. " Then
will I shew unto you all my mind," said he, " I have been
brought up at Oxford, at an inn of Chancery, and Lincoln's
Inn, and also in the King's Court, and so have gone from
the lowest degree to the highest ; and yet have I in yearly
revenue at this present little left me above a hundred a
year, so that now, if we live together, we must look to be
contributors together. But my advice is that we fall not
to the lowest fare first We will not descend to Oxford
fare nor to the fare of New Inn, but we will begin with
Lincoln's Inn diet, where many right worshipful men of
great account and right good years live full well. If we
cannot maintain that we will go a step lower, and come
down to Oxford fare, wherewith many an ancient father
and learned doctor has been contented, and if our united
purses will not do that much, then will we with bags and
wallets go a begging together, hoping that for pity some
good folks will give us charity, and at every man's door we
will sing a Salve Regina, whereby we shall still keep com-
pany and be merry together." *
Silent and tearful those whom he loved stood around
him, whilst throwing a veil over the grief he must needs
have felt, the good Christian still with an innocent jest on
his lips sought to infuse into their souls somewhat of his
own spirit of cheerful contentment. Looking on More's
past life with the eyes of the world, his practical and shrewd
* He here alludes to the practice of begging adopted by the poor
scholars of Oxford, who used to go begging through the streets, singing
the Salve Regina.
1 88 Giving up the Great Seal.
wife was in the right, he had been hospitable and charitable
Jar beyond what even his very ample means had allowed,
when first he entered the service of the King he threw up
a handsome income of .400 a year, which, in those far off
days, represented some thousands of our money at its
present worth. He then engaged in weighty causes concern-
ing the King and the realm, toiling away many of the best
years of his life in other countries, in like matters, and
thus consumed the gains of his whole life ; so that at this
time he had positively not sufficient for' necessaries for him-
self and those belonging to him, for, previous to his accept-
ance of the Great Seal, he had not purchased land above
the value of twenty marks a year, and after paying his debts,
his gold chain of office excepted, he had only about the
value of ;ioo. *
It may well be imagined that the contemplated change
was a heavy blow to his family, and that the breaking up
of his extensive household was not effected without great
sorrow. One was located here, another there, all apart,
except Margaret and her husband, who hired for their use
a house immediately adjoining his own, so that the ex-chan-
cellor and his eldest daughter enjoyed each other's society
almost as much as hitherto.
Thus, having settled his family and disposed of his
servants, in the houses of others, not forgetting his fool,
Pattison, who was now no longer necessary in his humble
establishment, More sold much of his furniture and other
property, and devoted the rest of this year of 1532, the year
which preceded his great trials, to acts of mortification,
prayer, and study.
* Roper.
Giving up the Great Seal. 189
A letter to Erasmus from More, written about this time,
runs as follows :
" I have a good while expected., if any man could accuse me
of anything, since I gave up the office of Chancellor, but as
yet no man hath come forward to complain of any act of
injustice. Either I must have been so innocent or so crafty
that my enemies must suffer me to glory in the one, if they
abide, I should glory in the other. The King's Majesty also,,
as well in private conversation as twice in public, hath
witnessed for that, which I am ashamed to say for myself;
he commended the Duke of Norfolk, when my successor (an
excellent man) was settled in my place, to testify this to all
the assembly, that he, with difficulty, at my earnest entreaty,
suffered me to go ; and, not content with that favour, he
caused it to be referred to again in his own presence, when
at a meeting of the Nobility and Commons, my successor
made his first speech in Parliament."
In another letter to Erasmus he writes :
" From childhood unto this day, I have constantly desired,
my dear Desiderius, to be freed from public affairs, so that
I might for some time live only to God and myself; I have
now, by the special grace of God and the kindness of my
Prince, obtained this favour. Having often thought I must
resign my office or fail in the performance of my duty, for
that I could no longer dispatch its business, but by
endangering my life, I resolved to forego one rather than
both. So that as it was necessary to be as careful of the
public affairs as of ray health, I earnestly begged the King,
that because I began to grow weary of my burthen, I might
be rid of it, honourable office as it was, whereto his favour
had raised me, as far above my deserving as it was wholly
i^o Giving up the Great Seal.
out of my seeking. I beseech, therefore, all the saints in
heaven, that by their intercession, God would reward the
affection of the King for me, and that He will give me grace
to spend the rest of my life profitably, and not idly or vainly,
granting me bodily health, so that I may take greater pains
therein."
To his friend Cochleus he wrote as follows :
" I have been of late sorely sick for months together, not
so much to the sight of others as to my own feelings, an
infirmity of which I need scarcely allude to, now that I have
resigned my office, for I could not hold it and discharge my
duties without danger to my health.
" The hope of final recovery, and the fear I had that my
health would interfere with the justice due to the public,
moved me to resign my office, aware that I should greatly
hinder the former, if, being sick, I endeavoured to look to
business matters as when in stronger health, and the leisure
which the benignity of my most gracious Prince hath
granted me, I propose to dedicate wholly to study and the
honour of God."
As if aware of the peril that still lay before him, for the
King shewed a certain coolness of manner towards More
such as he had never before exhibited, he seemed desirous
to withdraw himself daily more and more within the bosom
of his family, and with them even, he became more grave
and serious than of old, often talking with them of the joys
of the bright hereafter, of the lives of the holy martyrs, of
their wondrous patience and happy death, and that it was
an honour for the love of our Lord to suffer loss of goods,
imprisonment, lands and life, adding, that it would be a
comfort to him if his wife and children would encourage him
Giving up the Great Seal. 191
to die in so good a cause. Then he would speak of the kind
of death which might happen to him, intending by so doing
to take off the sharpness of the sorrow whensoever it should
happen, for said he, " shafts foreseen hurt us not so much"
Cromwell had taken his place in the favour of the King,
and, coming to him once with a message from the latter,
when he was taking his leave, Sir Thomas said :
" Mr. Cromwell, you are entered into the service of a wise,
noble, and liberal Prince ; if you will follow my poor advice,
you will, when giving counsel to his Majesty, always tell
him what he ought to do, but, never what he is able to
do ; in this way you may prove yourself a true and faithful
servant, and a good counsellor, for if a lion knew his own
strength, hard would it be to rule him."
The straightforward More, however, poured his advice
into unwilling ears, for Cromwell always gave the King the
advice that would please him best, and not that which was
lawful.
192
CHAPTER XII.
QUEEN ANNE BOLEYN.
AFTER her expulsion from Court, Queen Katherine wrote
a letter to the Pope to apprise him of the treatment she had
received, when the Pontiff, in the most forcible but
affectionate terms, addressed a letter to the King, painting
in its true colours the infamy he was stamping on his
character, by introducing his mistress to the court in place
of his wife, and requesting him to recall his Queen and
dismiss her rival. This was a duty he owed to himself, but
Clement declared he would receive it as a signal favour to
himself. The King, however, no longer sought to conciliate,
and, assembling his parliament, an act was passed for the
abolition of the annates, or first fruits, an ecclesiastical
impost paid to the Roman see.
Then Cromwell proceeded to other matters hostile to the
clergy, and the interests of the Pontiff, by annexing to the
Crown supreme jurisdiction in ecclesiastical matters, and it
was enacted that if any prelate should pay first fruits to
Rome, he should forfeit his personalities to the King, and
the profits of his see as long as he held it. A promise from
convocation was also exacted never to enact or enforce any
constitutions without the royal authority and assent.
In the September of 1532, the King had created mistress
Anne, Marchioness of Pembroke. On the 25th of the next
Queen Anne Boleyn. 193
January, Dr. Lee, one of the royal chaplains, received orders
to celebrate Mass in a room in the west terrace of Whitehall,
there he found the King attended by Anne. Lee, we are
told, made some opposition when he discovered that he
was to marry the King privately, but Henry calmed his
scruples by declaring he had the papal instrument in his
closet.*
Warham, who was zealously attached to the ancient
doctrines, was now dead, and Henry found a ready tool in
Cranmer, a chaplain of the Boleyns, whose book in favour
of the divorce, and the boldness with which he had advocated
it, and his zeal in soliciting signatures in its behalf when in
Italy, made both Henry and Anne believe that in him they
should possess an Archbishop subservient to their will. He
was now raised to the Archbishopric, the papal confirmation
was obtained, the bulls were expedited from the Pope, to
whom he took the customary oath of fidelity, and he at once
entered on his new career by a solemn act of perjury ; for
he called four witnesses into the chapter-house of St.
Stephen's, and declared that by the oath of obedience to the
Pope, which for the sake of form he should take, he did not
mean to bind himself to anything contrary to the law of
God, against the rights of the King, or of such reforms as
he might judge useful to the Church of England. He then
went to the high altar and took the pontifical oath, after
which he was then consecrated, and again reminding the
witnesses of his protest, he took the oath a second time, and
received the pallium from the hands of the papal delegates, t
* Lee was made Bishop of Chester and was afterwards translated to
Lichfield and Coventry Lingard, Stowe.
f Some of our historians, endeavouring to palliate this matter, make an.
O
194 Queen Anne Boleyn*
Cranmer was fully aware as to what was expected of him,
and Henry at once proceeded with the divorce. To prevent
Katherine from opposing any obstacle to Cranmer, an act
was passed forbidding appeals from English spiritual judges to
the Court of the Pontiff; a hypocritical farce was then enacted
between Cranmer and Henry, and the former as if igno-
rant of the purpose for which he had been made archbishop,
wrote a letter of fatherly reproof to the King '' for scandalising
the world by his unlawful union with Katherine, it was a
duty which he owed to her and himself, to put an end to all
doubt, and he begged the King to hear the cause of the
divorce in his own archiepiscopal Court," the King of course
graciously assented, but at the same time reminded the
primate that, " the sovereign had no superior on earth, and
was not subject to the laws of any earthly creature." *
To this Court Katherine was repeatedly cited to appear,
but she carefully avoided any admission of the Archbishop's
jurisdiction ; finally, she was declared contumacious, and the
sentence was passed that her marriage was null and void,
and had never been good, and five days later, he confirmed
the private marriage already celebrated with Anne. Henry
apology for him, after an odd sort of a manner. Dodd, Part I, Art 2,
p. 213. If this seemed too artificial for a man of his sincerity (?) yet still
he acted fairly and without deceit. Echard, 1,675. If he did not
wholly save his integrity, yet it was plain he intended no cheat, but to
act fairly and above board. Burnet, 1,124. But how a man can act
fairly, and yet not save his integrity is farther than I can discover ; and,
therefore, with due regard to Cranmer's memory, it must be said, there
was something of human infirmity in this management Collier, 11,74.
State Papers, 1390-3.
*
Queen Anne Boleyn. 195
had not the heart to proceed against Katherine. His
repudiated wife was the only person who could brave him with
impunity. *
No sentence of divorce had been pronounced, nor act of
parliament passed to dissolve the first marriage.
An attempt has been made to show a marriage on the i4th
Nov. 1532, nine months before the birth of Elizabeth, 7 Sep.,
J 533> but this is disproved by the testimony of Cranmer
himself, t
On the news of the marriage of the King reaching the
ears of More, said he to his son-in-law :
" God give grace, son, that these matters be not confirmed
on oath." A remark at which Roper felt grieved, for so often
did matters turn out as Sir Thomas feared they would.
More, shrewd and keen as he was, watched, in the
quietude of his Chelsea home, the sad signs of the times,
and felt sure that matters would soon be pressed to extremity
on hearing of the preparations for the approaching corona-
tion. He then received a letter from the three Bishops ol
Durham, Winchester, and Bath, requesting him to be present
with them at the coronation of the new queen, and asking
him to accept the sum of twenty pounds, which they sent
him to buy him a dress suitable for the occasion ; the money
he thankfully accepted, but he stirred not from his house,
and on their next meeting, said More to these Bishops :
" In your late letter, my Lords, you requested of me two
things, the one I was well pleased to grant you, that the
other I might the better deny, for I took you to be no
beggars, and I knew myself to be no rich man ; for the .
other, take heed, my Lords, that being present at the corona-
* Lingard. fHallam's Court Hist p. 841.
! gfi Queen Anne Boleyn.
tion you do not presently preach about it, as for myself, they
may indeed destroy me, but by God's grace I will take care
that they hurt no other than the body."
Possibly these words may have reached the ears of Anne,
at any rate he was a marked man, as Wolsey had been
before him ; by not being present at her coronation he
increased her deadly hatred, and the King listened more
readily than of old to her remarks against him.
Whitsunday, the first of June, 1533, was the coronation
day. That great day on which the hopes of Anne Boleyn had
for so long a space of time rested, had at last arrived.
It was a bright, glorious summer morning, when all
nature was in unison with the sweet future of happiness
and joy which seemed to stretch itself before this beautiful
and ambitious woman.
Very early indeed must she and her ladies have been astir,
for at the early hour of eight, she entered Westminster Hall
and stood beneath her canopy of state, in her mantle of
purple velvet lined with ermine, and a circlet of rubies on
her head. Then came the Monks of Westminster in copes,
and Bishops and Abbots in copes and mitres. The ray
cloth was spread all the way from the dais in Westminster
Hall, through the sanctuary and palace up to the high altar
in the Abbey.* A glorious day for her doubtless, but What a
day of anguish for the poor repudiated wife.
But for the time being all was bright as the summer sun-
shine, and Mistress Anne was crowned by Cranmer, the
King's ready tool, who proclaimed her divorce two short years
later, as easily as he had pronounced her rival's marriage
* Agnes Strickland.
Queen Anne Boleyn. 197
null and void, but a short time since ; but this day was her
day of triumph. With unusual magnificence did Henry
celebrate the coronation of his beloved Queen, it was
attended by all the nobility of England, and there was no
lack of processions, and triumphal arches and tournaments ;
his pride was gratified, and he hoped to have his darling
wish of a male heir to the throne at last fulfilled.
How would Anne Boleyn have shrunk from his touch
could she have seen into the dreary future, could she have
beheld the death-warrant, her death-warrant signed by the
hand of him who now caressed her ; how would she have
shuddered, when she a few days previous to her coronation,
landed at the Tower in much state, attired in cloth of gold,
when Henry with a countenance full of love received her at
the postern by the water side, could she have but seen
as in second-sight her own self when she entered that
gloomy fortress as a prisoner after so brief a space, could
she but have beheld herself as she was a short time later
still, when led out upon the Tower Green, that spot at
which one shudders still to look; poor soul, how would
she have shrunk within herself, torn the crown from off her
head and lamented as she did later, that she had ever striven
to gain so giddy a height of human greatness.
When the tidings of the coronation reached Rome, the
Pope annulled Cranmer's pretended divorce, pronounced
the marriage with Katherine to be valid, and called on the
King to take her back as his legitimate wife. But the die
was cast, the final question had not been settled till ten
months after Cranmer's sentence, and a resolution had been
taken to erect an independent Church within the realm.
Act after act derogatory from the papal claims had been
198 Quern Anne Boleyn.
debated and passed in parliament, and the kingdom was
severed by legislative authority from the communion of
Rome long before the judgment given by Clement could
have reached the ear of Henry.
199
CHAPTER XIII.
MORE AND FISHER.
THERE can be no doubt but that the King strove by every
means, even by conferring the office of Chancellor upon
More, to win over both himself and Fisher to his cause, and
had failed with each, The reader will remember that in a
letter to Erasmus after he had withdrawn wholly from public
life, More congratulates himself that no accusations were
brought against him ; time, however, and the smouldering
anger of the King which had long been ready to burst forth
in a flame, effected a change, and the first sign he had of
the trouble which hung over him was a rumour that he had
received bribes and gifts when Lord Chancellor, and he was
summoned to answer the first charge before the Earl of
Wiltshire, the Queen's father, and his own declared enemy.
He, the very soul of integrity, and who carried his notions
of honour to an extent that was even fastidious, was accused
of having accepted a silver gilt cup from the hands of one
Mistress Vaughan.
Sir Thomas confessed that he had taken the cup some
time after judgment had been given. " It was intended,'*
said he, as a New Year's Gift, and out of very shame I could
not refuse it.
200 More and Fisher.
The countenance of his ancient foe beamed with delight,
and unable to restrain his pleasure at the thought that he
should be able to convict him, he exclaimed, " There, my
Lords, did I not tell you the matter would be found true ?"
" I beg you, my Lords, as you have heard one-half of my
story, to tarry patiently for the other,' said More, ' I did in-
deed take the cup, but I immediately ordered my butler to
fill it up with wine, which, being done, I drank to the lady's
health, and afterwards she drank to me, and I then returned
the cup into her hands, to carry back as a New Year's
present to her husband.' "
Then Mistress Vaughan was called upon to give evidence,
and she attested to the truth of what More had said.
There was too one Mistress Croaker, a rich woman, to
assist whom and at no small cost to himself, More had
obtained a decree in Chancery against Lord Arundell. This
lady, in the excess of her gratitude, had brought him a pair
of gloves filled with fourscore golden angels.
He accepted the gloves, but refused the money, saying
" It would be, Madam, against all rules of gentlemanly
courtesy to refuse the gloves, as they are a lady's New Year's
gift, but as to the lining I must beg to return it,"
There were other cases of the same kind maliciously
brought against the incorruptible ex-chancellor, but the
result was the same in every case, an honourable acquittal
from the slightest imputation of bribery. Such charges as
these, though they might be unpleasant and annoying at the
time, could have no evil effect in the end ; but there was
another, which attacked both himself and the venerable
Bishop Fisher ; this was of a far more serious nature, and
had also something in it of a semblance of justice.
More and fisher. 201
Alone, amongst all the other bishops Fisher stood firm.
He was nearly eighty years of age, the last survivor of the
councillors of Henry VII., and the wise prelate to whose
care the Countess of Richmond had on her death-bed recom-
mended the youth and inexperience of her royal grandson.
For many years the King had revered him as a parent, and
boasted that no prince in Europe possessed a bishop equal
in virtue to the Bishop of Rochester ; but his opposition to
the divorce gradually effaced the recollection of his merit
and services ; and the case of Elizabeth Barton, the Nun,
or Holy Maid of Kent, as she was called, was laid hold of
by the King's advisers as an opportunity of at any rate
silencing, if not crushing him.
This young woman, a native of Aldington, in Kent, had
been subject to fits, and the contortions of body which she
suffered on these occasions were attributed by her ignorant
neighbours to some supernatural agency. In a short time
they considered in the nature of prophecies the expressions
she used, she herself partook of the illusions, and denounced
impending judgments against the King, should he proceed
with the divorce, and the fame of her sanctity won for her the
above appellation. She had applied to many persons of
influence, and bade them carry her remonstrances to the
King, and had then repaired to Fisher at Rochester, who
obtained for her an interview with Sir Thomas, and the
latter became thus mixed up in the matter.
As soon as the ex-chancellor heard of such a charge (for
it was now made high treason to slander the King's marriage)
he sent the following letter to Cromwell.
"Right Worshipful After my most hearty recommenda
tion, with thanks for your goodness, I perceive that of your
2O2 More and Fisher.
further favour towards me it pleased you to break to my son
Roper that I had communication not only with many that
were acquainted with the maid of Canterbury, but also with
herself; and, beyond that, by my letters declared favour
towards her, and gave her advice and counsel. And of my
demeanour towards her as you are content to take the trouble
to hear, by my own pen, the truth, I right heartily thank you r
and consider myself beholden to you very deeply.
''It is I suppose about eight or nine years ago, since I
heard of that housewife first, at which time the then Bishop
of Canterbury, God absolve his soul, sent unto the King's
grace a roll of paper, in which were written certain words of
hers, that she had, as report said, spoken in her trances,
whereupon, it pleased the King to deliver me the roll, com-
manding me to look thereon and afterwards let him know
what I thought ; and at another time his highness asked me.
I told him I found nothing in those words that I could regard
or esteem ; a right simple woman might in my mind speak
it of her own wit well enough ; nevertheless, I said, it was
constantly reported for a truth that God wrought in her, and
that a miracle was showed upon her, and I durst not be
bold in judging the matter.
" From that time till about last Christmas twelvemonths,
there was much said of her and of her holiness, yet I never
heard of revelation of hers or of miracle, saving that in my
lord cardinal's days, that she had been both with his lordship
and with the King, but what she had said either to the one
or the other I never heard a word. But, as I was about to
tell you, about Christmas was twelvemonth, Father Risby,
friar Observant, then of Canterbury, lodged one night at my
house, where after supper, a little before he went to his cham-
More and Fisher. 203
ber, he fell to talking with me about the maid, commending
her holiness, and saying that it was wonderful to see and
understand the works that God wrought in her; which I
answered I was very glad to hear of. Then he told me she
had been with the lord legate in his lifetime, and with the
King's grace too, and had told the legate a revelation of hers,
of three swords that God had put in his hand, which if he
ordered not well would be laid to his charge. The first she
said was ordering the spirituality under the pope as legate,
the second the rule that he bore in order of the temporality
under the King, and the third was the meddling he was en-
trusted with by the King concerning the matter of his
marriage.
" I told him that any revelation of the King's matters I
would not hear of, doubting not but that God would direct
him that the thing should take such an end as He should be
pleased with, to the king's honour and the good of the
realm.
" Then he told me that God had specially commanded
her to pray for the king, and spoke again of her revelations
concerning the cardinal, that his soul was saved by her
mediation, and so went forth to his chamber ; and he and I
spoke not again of the matter. And since his departing on
the morrow I never saw him after, to my remembrance, till
I saw him at Paul's Cross.
" After this, about Shrovetide, there came to me, a little
before supper, Father Rich, friar Observant, of Richmond ;
and as we fell into conversation I asked him of Father
Risby, how he did, on which he asked me if he had told
me anything about the holy maid of Kent. I answered yesr
and that I was glad to hear of her virtue. c I would not/
2O4 More and Fisher.
said he 'repeat what you have heard already, but God
hath wrought great graces in her, and by her to others' ;
and then he asked me if Father Risby had told me of her
having been with the cardinal. I answered yes. ' And
he told you of the three swords ? ' ' Yes,' quoth I.
' And of her revelations concerning the king's grace ? '
'Nay, forsooth,' said I, 'and if he would I would not
have given him the hearing ; and since she hath been with
the King himself and told him, it is needless to tell me or
any other man.' And when Father Rich saw that I would
not hear of her revelations, he talked on a little of her
virtue and let them alone ; and supper was set on the board,
but he would not tarry, but departed to London. After
that I talked with him twice, once in my own house, and
once in his own garden at the Friars, but not of any
revelations touching the King but only of mean folk, some
of which things were very strange and others childish.
However, he said he had seen her in her trances in great
pain, and had been spiritually comforted by her communi-
cations ; but he did never tell me she had told him these
tales herself; if he had I would have both liked him and
her the worse. I little doubted but that some of the tales I
heard of her were untrue, but that nevertheless many of them
might be true.
" After this, being one day at Sion, and talking with several
of the fathers at the grate, they told me she had been with
them, and showed me various things some of them disliked
in her ; and whilst talking they said they wished I had
spoken with her, they would fain know how I liked her.
Whereupon, when I heard she was again there, I came to
speak to her and see her myself. At which communication*
More and Fisher. 205
in a little chapel, there were none present but we two. In
the beginning I told her my coming to her was not of any
curiosity, or to know of such things as it pleased God to
reveal and show her, but for the great virtue that I had heard
so many years every day more and more reported of her ;
therefore, I had a mind to see her and be acquainted with
her, that she might have the more cause to remember me to
God in her devotions. Whereto she answered that, as God
of His goodness did far more by her than she, poor wretch,
was worthy of, so she feared that many spoke of their own
favourable minds far above the truth, and that she had heard
so many things of me that already she prayed for me, and
always would, for which I thanked her.
" Then said I : ' Madam, there is one Helen, a maiden
dwelling at Totnam, of whose trances and revelations there
hath been much talk. She hath been with me, and showed
me that she was with you, and that after rehearsing such
visions as she had seen, you showed her they were no reve-
lations, but plain illusions of the devil, and advised her to
cast them out of her mind. She gave credence unto you,
and leaneth no longer to visions of her own, saying she
findeth your words true, for she hath been less visited with
such things than she was wont.' To this she answered me,
'Forsooth, sir, there is in this no praise due to me ; the
goodness of God hath wrought much meekness in her soul,
which hath taken my rude meaning so well, and not grudged
to hear her spirit and her visions reproved.'
"I liked her better for this answer than for many of the things
I had heard reported of her. Then she said : ' Persons have
great need that are visited with such visions to take heed
and prove what spirit they come of.' We spake no word
206 More and Fisher.
of the King's grace, or of any other but of her and of myself,
and after no long conversation, my time came to go home,
and I gave her a double ducat, prayed her to pray for me
and mine, and never spoke word with her after.
But I had a good opinion of her, and held her -in high
estimation.
"And because I often heard that many right worshipful
folks had much communication with her, and many are
curious, and fall sometimes into talking, and better were to
forbear, therefore I wrote her a letter, which, since perad-
venture she tore or lost it, I shall insert the very copy in
this letter :
" Good madam and dearly beloved sister in our Lord, I
beseech you take my mind in good worth, and pardon me
that I am so homely as, unrequired and without necessity,
to counsel you, of whom for the revelations it hath pleased
God to give you, as many wise and learned and virtuous
testify, I myself have need to ask advice. I showed you
that I was neither curious of any knowledge of other men's
matters, least of all of any matter of princes or of the realm.
Itsufficeth to put you in remembrance of these things, and the
Spirit of God shall keep you from talking with high persons
of things pertaining to princes' affairs or the state of the
realm, but only to talk of such with persons high or low, as
may be profitable for you to show or them to hear. At
Chelsea, this Tuesday, by the hand of
" Your loving Brother and Beadsman,
" THOMAS MORE, Knight."
" Soon after there came to my house the Prior of the
Charter House at Sheen, and one Brother Williams, who
talked of nothing but her virtue and revelations; but at
More and Fisher. 207
another time Brother Williams came to me and told me a
long tale of her being at the house of a knight in Kent, that
was troubled with temptations to destroy himself. On
another day when I came to Sion one of the fathers asked
me how I had liked her : I answered that I liked her very
well in her talking, but she is never the nearer tried by that ;
she were likely to be very bad, an she seemed good, ere I
should think her the reverse. That is my manner ; unless I
were set to search and examine the truth or likelihood of
some cloaked evil, when, though I nothing suspected the
person myself, I would search to find out the truth, as
yourself hath prudently done in this matter, doing a merito-
rious deed in bringing to light such detestable hypocrisy,
whereby every other wretch may take warning and be afraid
to set forth their devilish falsehood under colour of the
wonderful work of God ; for this woman so handled herself,
with help of that evil spirit that inspired her, that after her
confession delivered at St. Paul's Cross, when I sent word
to the prior of the Charter House that she was undoubtedly
proved a false hypocrite, the good man had had such an
opinion of her that he could not at first believe it.
" I remember me further that I counselled Father Rich
that in such things as concerned such folk as had come unto
her, to whom she said she had told the cause of their
coming ere they themselves spoke, and such good fruit as
they said men had received by her prayers, he and such
others as reported it, should first cause the things to be well
examined by the ordinaries, so that it might be surely known
whether the things were true or not ' That she is a good
virtuous woman I hear many folk report ; I verily think it is
true, and think it likely God may work good and great
208 More and Fisher.
things by her ; but you wot well, these strange tales are no
part of our creed ; and before you see them proved, see you
wed not yourself so far to the belief of them as to report for
true, lest, it should hap they be afterwards proved false, it
might minish the estimation of your preaching. 7
" Thus have I, good Mr. Cromwell, declared to you as far
as I can remember, all that ever I have said or done in the
matter. If any one report of me any word touching breach
of my truth and duty to my sovereign, I will make good
my answer. Whilst I live neither man nor woman shall
make me digress from my truth to God and to my natural
prince.
" I beseech our Lord long to preserve you.
"MAISTER THOMAS."*
Another parliament was called ; and to the dismay of
More's family and friends, he discovered that a bill of
attainder was brought into the House, attainting the maid
and her abettors, and charging himself and Bishop Fisher
with misprision of treason ; when he at once wrote the
following letters to Cromwell and the king :
" RIGHT WORSHIPFUL,
" I am informed that there is a black plot put in against
me in the Higher House before the Lords, concerning my
communications with the maid of Canterbury and my
writing to her, whereof I not a little marvel, the truth of the
matter being as God and I know it is, and as I have plainly
declared unto you by my former letter.
u I desire you to favour me that I may have a copy of the
bill, which seen, if I find untrue surmise therein I may
* See his letters in his printed works, p. 1423.
More and Fisher. 209
make humble suit unto the king's grace and declare the
same. I am so sure of my truth to his grace that I cannot
mistrust his goodness to me, being myself so innocent,
whatsoever should happen me. At Chelsea, this present
Saturday, by the hand of heartily all your own,
" THOMAS MORE, Knight.
And thus ran his letter to the King's grace :
" It may like your highness to call to your gracious
remembrance that at such time as of the office of your
chancellor you were so good as to disburden me, it pleased
your highness to say that, in any suit I should after have to
your grace that should concern mine honour (the word it
liked your highness to use,) or should pertain unto my
profit, I should find your highness a good and gracious
lord unto me. Now is my most humble suit to your
highness, that of your accustomed goodness no sinister
information move your noble grace to have any more
distrust of my truth and devotion to you than I shall
during my life give cause. For in this matter of the maid
of Canterbury I have to your trusty counsellor, Maister
Cromwell, by my writing as plainly declared the truth as I
possibly can. In my most humble manner, prostrate at your
gracious feet, I beseech your grace, with your own prudence
and accustomed goodness, consider and weigh the matter.
And if in your so doing your own virtuous mind should tell
you, that, notwithstanding the goodness your gracious high-
ness hath by so many ways used unto me, I were a wretch of
such monstrous ingratitude as to digress from my bounden
duty of allegiance to your grace, then I desire no further
favour at your hands than the loss of goods, lands, liberty,
p
2io More and Fisher.
and life. But if in the considering of my cause your
gracious goodness perceive that I have not demeaned myself
towards your royal majesty, I beseech your most noble grace
that the knowledge of your persuasion may relieve the
torment of my present heaviness, conceived out of the dread
and fear (by that I hear such a grievous bill is put by your
learned council into the High Court of Parliament against
me), lest your grace might, by some sinister information
which your highness do not, as I trust in God and your
great goodness you will not. Then in my most humble
manner I beseech your highness further (albeit that in
respect of my former request this other thing is very slight),
yet since your highness hath of your abundant goodness
heaped and accumulated on me (though I was far unworthy)
from time to time both worship and great honour too, sithl
have now left all such things, and nothing seek or desire but
the life to come, and pray for your grace the while, it may
like your highness of your benignity somewhat to tender my
poor honesty and never suffer (by means of such a bill put
forth against me) any man to take occasion hereafter against
the truth to slander me, which should do themselves more
hurt than me, which shall, I trust, settle my heart with your
gracious favour, to depend upon the comfort of the truth and
hope of Heaven, and not upon the fallible opinion or hastily
spoken words of light and changeable people. And thus,
most dread and dear sovereign lord, I beseech the blessed
Trinity preserve your most noble grace, both body and soul,
and all that are your well-wishers, and amend all the contrary,
among whom if ever I be or ever have been one, then pray I
God that he may with my open shame and destruction
declare it"
More ana Fisher. 211
Fisher's name was removed from the bill on payment of
three hundred pounds to the Crown. It would seem that
More's name had been introduced as a threat to terrify him
into submission to the King, but he boldly demanded to be
allowed to plead at the bar of the House. He was not allowed,
however, to defend himself publicly, and the hearing of the
case was given to Cranmer, Audley, Cromwell, and the
Duke of Norfolk.
Roper and Margaret, fearing lest he should throw away his
life by the dauntless avowal of his principles, besought him,
as far as he could do so conscientiously, to get his name put
out of the bill. He promised them that he would do so, but
yet never urged the matter.
The Lords Commissioners requested him to be seated, a
courteous permission which Sir Thomas declined. Their
object was to win him over to the King's party, and they
began by reminding him of the many proofs he had received
of his favour, of the King's wish still to retain him in his
service, and to heap yet greater benefits upon him, than those
he had already received, and that he could ask no worldly
honour and profit at the hands of his sovereign, which he
would not grant, provided he added his sanction and consent
in favour of the marriage, which had already been given by
the Bishops, the Universities, and the Parliament
"My lords," replied Sir Thomas, "there never lived a
man who would feel more pleasure at doing that which
would be acceptable to his highness than myself, for he hath
been most bountiful and liberal to me j but I had hoped I
should never more have heard of this matter, as from the
very outset I truly declared my mind to his Majesty, who
accepted my opinion graciously, not minding, as he said to
212 More and Fisher.
me, to trouble me any more concerning it, since which time
I never found cause to change my opinion ; if I had, none
would be more joyful than myself."
Long they tried to make Sir Thomas yield ; but when
they saw they could not do so, Cromwell exclaimed :
"The king's majesty hath bid us tell you, if you continued
obstinate, that never before was there a servant so villainous
to his sovereign, or a subject so traitorous to his prince, as
you. By your subtle and sinister conduct you most
unnaturally procured and provoked the King to set forth his
book on the seven sacraments and the maintenance of the
Pope's authority, thus causing his Majesty to put a sword
in the Pope's hands, wherewith to fight against himself to
his own dishonour."
Sir Thomas had so lively a sense of the ridiculous that it
is a matter of wonder how he kept his countenance. That
the King, now grieving over the success of his own literary
labours, should turn upon him with the charge of villainy
for having helped him when he aspired to the fame of author-
ship, and urge it against him that he had maliciously pro-
voked him to write a book, was about one of the strangest
things that was ever entered in a bill of attainder.
" My lords," said More calmly, " these threats might
terrify children, but not me. But, to make answer to your
last charge against me, I cannot think the King's grace will
ever lay that book to my door ; in that point none can say
more for my discharge than himself, who knoweth right well
I never promoted or counselled it ; only, after it was finished
by his grace's appointment I sorted out and placed in order
the principal matter thereof. And when I had found the
Pope's authority highly advanced and defended with the
More and Fisher. 213
strongest arguments, I said to his grace,* ' I must put youi
highness in remembrance of one thing, and that is that the
Pope is, as your Majesty knows, a prince, as you are, in league
with all other Christian princes. At some future time it may
happen that your grace and he may differ on some points of
the league, when there may be breach of friendship between
you ; therefore I think it best that portion be altered, and
his authority more lightly touched on. ' Nay,' replied
his grace, ' we are too much bound to the See of Rome,
and cannot too much honour it.' I then reminded him how
part of the Pope's pastoral authority had been pared away,t
to which he replied, ' Whatever impediment there may be,
we will set forth our authority to the utmost, for we have re-
ceived from that see our crown imperial, which (till his
grace with his own lips told me) I had never heard before, and
these things being considered, I trust his highness will never
speak of it again, but will himself clear me from this
charge."
To his great surprise not a word passed from any of the
Council respecting the real charge for which he had been
brought before them, namely, his having countenanced and
been an abettor of Elizabeth Barton.
In great good spirits he left the Council Chamber, and
took boat with Roper for Chelsea, though yet unconscious
* More altered his opinions later, after studying the matter by the
king's own wish ; in fact he laid down his life in defence of the Pope's
supremacy. He here speaks of opinions uttered by him fourteen years
previously, before he had studied the question.
t He alludes to the statute of "praemunire," passed in the reign of
Edward III., by which it was forbidden to receive bulls from Rome, or
to act on their provisions, by appointment to ecclesiastical benefices or
bishoprics, without consent of the King. Lingard.
214 More and Fisher.
as to what the result of his defence might be, Roper was
amazed at seeing him so cheerful, and persuaded himself
that his name was struck out of the bill, so when they had
landed from the boat and had entered the garden, he leaning
on his son-in-law's arm, the latter said :
" I trust, sir, all is well, since you are so merry."
" It is well, son Roper, and I thank God for it."
" Are you then put out of the parliament bill, sir?"
" By my troth, son, I never remembered it," rejoined Sir
Thomas.
" Never remembered that, sir, which affects you so
nearly, and us for your sake ; I am sorry to hear it, I trusted
when I saw you so merry that all was well."
" Wouldst thou know, son, why I am so joyful 1 ? By my
troth I never remembered the bill, but I have given the
devil a foul fall, because when I was before these lords, I
went so far that without great shame I can never go back."
This then was the cause of his joy, it was his confidence
in God that He would give him strength to suffer. At these
words of his, says Roper, " I waxed sad, for though he liked
them well, yet they liked me but a little."*
As soon as the Lords of the Council made their report to
the King of the conduct of Sir Thomas before them, in one
of his fits of passion he demanded that his name should be
kept in the parliament bill, and for a time would not listen
to their advice, for they declared that the conviction on the
minds of all in the Upper House, was so in favour of the
late Chancellor, that if his name were not cast out of the
bill, it would be of no force against the rest who were
included in it.
* Roper's Life of More.
More and fisher. 215
Much would Henry have given could he but have ben t
to his will the inflexible More, and he yet insisted on retaining
his name in the bill of attainder, adding with a passionate
exclamation, which we cannot repeat in these pages, that
he would himself be present at the passing of it.
Then the Lords cast themselves on their knees imploring
his Majesty not to carry out his threat, urging that if he, in
his own presence, should see the bill thrown out, it would
not only encourage his subjects to contempt of his authority,
but would dishonour him throughout all Europe, adding, that
they doubted not that the time would come when they might
find "some fitting matter" against him, for in this case of
Elizabeth Barton, every one thinks him perfectly innocent,
and that his conduct is rather worthy of praise than the
reverse."
The King then condescended to grant their petition, but
his anger against Sir Thomas was rather increased than
lessened by the necessity which he felt really existed for him
to yield to the counsel of the Lords.
On the morrow, Secretary Cromwell met William Roper,
and made the good man's heart glad, by telling him that the
name of his father-in-law was put out of the bill. The
message was at once sent to Chelsea, and Margaret hastened
to her father with the joyful news. He answered calmly :
" In faith, Meg, quod differtur 11011 aufertur* The
ex statesman was deeper versed in the wiles of Henry's
court than was his daughter. He knew well enough that he
was not put out of the bill for love or favour, but that right
soon some little matter would crop up, upon which to work
more safely.
* That which is deferred is not dismissed.
216 More and Fisher.
A few days later the Duke of Norfolk called to see him,
perhaps, as he called himself More's friend, with the hope of
inducing him to comply with Henry's wishes, and leading
the conversation to the trouble from which he had just
escaped, he said :
" But, by the mass, Sir Thomas, it is perilous striving
with princes, therefore I could wish you, as a friend, to con-
form to the King's pleasure, for, by the rood, Indigriatio
printipis mors est."*
" Is that all, my lord ?" replied More with perfect calmness.
" Then in good faith there is no more difference between you
and me, than that I shall die to-day and you to-morrow. If
the anger of a prince causeth but temporal death, we have
greater cause to fear that which is eternal, which the King
of heaven can condemn us to if we scruple not to displease
Him by fearing an earthly prince."t
This remark of the unflinching More established in the
duke's mind the opinion he had already formed that it would
be, as it were, a trial of strength between the King and his
ex-minister, and that the latter must inevi.ably be the loser;
and he bade him farewell with the conviction that the crisis
would soon arrive, and that that crisis would cost More his
head.
* " The anger of a prince bringeth death."
t Roper, More.
CHAPTER : XIV.
THE FITTING MATTER.
AND the " fitting matter " was the oath of the King's
supremacy, the denial of which brought to the block Sir
Thomas More, and John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester.
" This fitting matter," alluded to by Chancellor Audley,
when advising the King to allow the name of More to be
erased from the bill, was to force him to declare the lawful-
ness of the King's marriage with Anne Boleyn, thus rendering
illegitimate his daughter Mary ; and he was to be made to
do this by taking the oath of succession.
A few days previously the maid of Kent, with Brocking,
Masters, Deering, Rich, Gold and Risley, who were con-
sidered her abettors, were executed at Tyburn. To sustain
the charge of treason it was held that the communication
of such prophecies had in view the bringing the King in
peril of his life ; and the being acquainted with them, and
yet concealing, amounted to the offence of misprision of
treason. The accused were, however, never brought to
trial; no defence was allowed; and the bill received the
royal assent. Barton died confessing her delusion.
Once, when More took it into his head to try and prepare
his family for what he felt in his inward heart would sooner
or later inevitably happen, he had hired a person to come
as a pursuivant, whilst they were all at dinner, and knocking
218 The Fitting Matter.
hastily at his door, to warn him to appear before the Com-
missioners ; now the pursuivant did come in earnest.
If formerly he had laid awake by his wife's side, while she
and all around him slept, still more of late had he watched
and prayed through the live-long night, reckoning up the
cost of an unwavering fidelity to principle, praying that he
might not be wanting in strength to overcome his natural
frailty, which, as he himself said, " could not endure to
suffer."
And so it fell out that on the i3th of April, 1534, the
long-expected summons came. The hour was one of
supremest trial its waiting, however, had been almost as
terrible in its varied alternations of hope and fear, as was the
certainty at which they had now arrived.
He spoke cheerfully to his wife and daughter, after having
calmly received the summons, and then he turned his steps
to Chelsea Church, made his confession, communicated,
and heard Mass ; returned home, made a frugal meal, and
prepared to take boat for Lambeth. More was a good
Christian, and a wise philosopher, but had no stoicism in
his composition ; on this morning, for the life of him, he
could not say the customary " Good-bye."
He had evermore been used at his departure from his
wife and children, whom he tenderly loved, to have them
conduct him to his boat, and there to kiss them, and
bid them all farewell,* but that day he suffered none of
them to follow him, but pulling the wicket after him, never
looking back, shut them all from him. Margaret had
indeed lingered, but her father gave her no chance of
bidding him farewell, or increased his own pain by gazing
* Roper.
The fitting Matter.
on her tearful, pallid face, but with a sad countenance, and
a heavy heart, he followed Roper to the boat.
Silent and sorrowful was he for a time, for full well he
knew he had for ever left his once happy home. He was
now alone with Christ in the garden !
Then, Roper, who was buried in his own painful thoughts,
observing the sadness of his father-in-law, was suddenly
roused from his reverie by feeling his ear smartly pulled,
and looking round, he saw that dear, kind face wearing its
usual glad expression.
" Son Roper, I thank our Lord the field is won"
" I am very glad, Sir," said Roper answering at random,
scarce able at the moment to guess his meaning, but later he
saw cause rightly to believe that More had alluded to the
conflict which was going on within him, and the struggles o*
natural affection, which for awhile made itself heard.
There is something very sweet and tender in the character
of More, his affectionate heart was full of grief, and as soon
as he had become wholly master of himself, his childlike
simplicity and love of innocent mirth again manifests itself
by that little action by which he attracted the attencion of
Roper.
And now appears in view the grey walls of Lambeth Church
and Palace, and very full was he of anxious thoughts as he
entered the great gate, and made his way at once to the
Commissioners.
It was a great grief to More to behold, when brought
before them, a throng of timorous clergy, amongst whom
were several bishops, who without stay or hindrance unhesi-
tatingly took the oath. The Commissioners were Boston
the abbot of Westminster, the Archbishop Cranmer, and
22O The Fitting Matter.
Audley the chancellor. Two only of all that appeared before
the Commissioners stood firm to their principles ; one of
them was a Dr. Wilson, the king's own confessor, who was
at once on his refusal " genteely sent straight into the
Tower," the other was Bishop Fisher.
The bishop had two days before received a letter from the
primate, summoning him to his presence ; and aware what
the termination must be, he composedly put his house in
order, and made his will as one who is about to die. Then he
set out for Lambeth, and passing on his way through Rochester,
he was met by a multitude of persons to whom he gave his
blessing, riding amongst them bareheaded. After he had
journeyed some twenty miles, he stopped for rest and
refreshment on the brow of Shooters Hill, then mounted his
horse again, and arrived in London in the evening. And
when he went to Lambeth Palace on the morrow, the first
person he encountered was Sir Thomas More.
" Well met, my lord," was the exclamation by which he
was greeted, " I hope we shall soon meet in heaven."
" This should be the way, Sir Thomas," replied the bishop,
*' for it is a very strait gate we are in."
On the oath being tendered to him, he asked for time to
consider it, and after some hesitation on the part of the
Commissioners, he was allowed five days. Then he withdrew
to his own house in Carlisle Place, Lambeth Marsh, then a
pleasant spot in the midst of rural scenes, now one of the
lowest and most densely populated districts in the extensive
parish of Lambeth.
More was again called upon, and a long list exhibited of
persons who had assented to the propositions of the oath.
" We are sorry," said the Lord Chancellor, '* that you should
The Fitting Matter. 221
refuse to take this oath, which all other persons have
sworn to."
More then consented to give his reasons, provided the
King should assure him that then his motives should not be
taken as an additional offence.
" The King," replied Cromwell, " cannot save you from
the penalties provided by the statutes against those who
refuse the oath."
" But," said More, " if I cannot explain my motives with-
out danger, it is not obstinacy which silences me ; moreover,
I blame no one for taking it." He then offered to swear to
the succession alone, but not to every particular contained
in the Act. He was then remanded whilst the oath was
tendered to the clergy, he being the only layman who had
been summoned, and was told he could walk in the garden
for awhile, perhaps with the hope that a little quiet commune
with self would bring him to a different frame of mind. But
More wished to be quite alone, one would suppose, for he
wandered away to a small desolate apartment which had
been partly consumed by fire ; it overlooked the gardens, the
river, the fine old abbey on the opposite bank of the Thames,
Westminster Hall, the spots on which our own eyes have
rested, aye, well nigh a thousand times, some of them so
like still to what they were these three centuries and a half
ago, altered not, save in their surroundings, for the majestic
abbey, the ancient hall, the everflowing river, the grey walls
of the old church in which Mass and Vespers oftimes
used to be sung, are still as then they were.
More's mind, one would think, must have wandered to far
other scenes, for yonder is the hall in which he sat as Chan-
cellor, when his name was on the lips of thousands, and
222 The Fitting Matter.
when the poor were made happy, because he heard their
appeals. His courtier life too, must needs have rushed back
upon him with all its dissipation, its turmoil, its frivolity, in
which his inmost heart had so little share. How he must
have wished, one would think, that King Henry had let him
rest, he was unwilling to go to court, and it had brought him
nought but sadness and woe, and to his family misery
unspeakable.
There are voices in the gardens of his grace, the Arch-
bishop, and he sighs deeply as he beholds various members
of the clergy with whom he was acquainted, discoursing
with each other ; their consciences, like that of Boston, the
Abbot, who was one of the Commissioners, had not stood
at all in their way.
It must have been a trial to the fidelity of the layman,
Thomas More, to see that throng of ecclesiastics fall away.
The noble and venerable Fisher is not amongst them !
Again he stands before the Commissioners, and Cranmer
triumphantly exhibits a list of those who have just sworn
the oath, warning him of the King's anger should he remain
obstinate.
More, however, is true to his^colours, nor archbishop, nor
priest, nor abbot, nor chancellor, can lead him other than
the voice of his conscience shall direct ; and for four days
he is committed to the safe custody of Boston, the Abbot of
Westminster.
It has been said that the King at this time would fain
have discharged him, but that Queen Anne urged him to
show him neither mercy nor favour.
22 3
CHAPTER XV.
THE TOWER.
FOUR days later the oath was again tendered, and refused,
and More's term of remand having expired, he leaves the
custody of Boston for a prison lodging in London's time-
worn fortress, the Tower. He must have known full well
the morning he left his home at Chelsea, never venturing to
look back, that he was leaving it for ever, but strange
yearning emotions must have filled his soul ; as he left the
abbot's custody and entered the boat; now steered in the
direction of the city, instead of, as of old, to Chelsea, he
now realized, for the first time, that he was a prisoner, and
that home (such a home as his was too), for it comprised all
that can constitute its charm, was gone from him for ever.
Yes, all was gone now, for he was accompanied by Sir
Richard Wingfield to the Tower of London ; but he called
his Christian philosophy and resignation to his aid, and in
this, the most trying moment in his life, More was composed
and even cheerful.
And now the boat shoots swiftly under one of the arches
of old London Bridge, and the ancient fortress, the walls of
which could tell, if they could speak, such terrible tales of
sin and wrong, frown down upon good Sir Thomas More.
In the direction of the Traitors' Gate the boat was steered.
A wicket formed of heavy beams of massive oak was opened,
only a step from thence to the block, he must have surely
224 The Tower.
thought. The dull splash of the water beating against the
sides of the arch, the frowning fortress, the prospect of>
perhaps, a life-long incarceration, or of a shorter imprison-
ment, to be ended by an ignominious death, must have struck
terror into the hearts of all who have been doomed to pass
beneath that gate ; and in this wise More's thoughts must
have run.
Before the usual form of delivering the warrant, and receiv-
ing an acknowledgment for the i body of the prisoner, was
gone through, Sir Richard, observing his gold chain around
his neck, kindly advised him to send it home to his family.
" Nay," was his reply, " that will I not, for if my enemies
take me on the field I should like them to have somewhat
for their pains." Indeed More was perfectly well aware
that whether in his house at Chelsea, or in the Tower, all his
personal effects would go ; his home had already, according
to the infamous custom of the times, been searched and
ransacked by the King's officers, and it mattered nothing to
him whether he was plundered there or where he now was.
As he landed at the Tower steps, the process of fleecing
him, under the name of " garnish," was at once commenced
by the porter demanding of him his outer garments as a
perquisite.
" Marry, porter," said More, taking off his cap, "here it
is, and I am sorry it is not a better one."
" No, no, sir, by your leave, it is your coat that I must
have."
Without a word More submitted to be robbed, and
following his conductors, ascended a narrow spiral staircase,
lighted at intervals by small loopholes in the outer wall, and
The Tower. 225
which led to the prison lodging in which he was to be
confined.
On entering his cell it was with a sigh of relief that he
beheld on a small wooden table, beneath the grated loophole
which served as a window, a writing desk, with pen, ink, and
paper. It was removed later by the gaoler, but not until
Sir Thomas had bequeathed to posterity some interesting
letters and writings, all of which show us how entirely
resigned he was to suffer persecution for justice sake. He
was allowed the unusual privilege of an attendant, one John
a Wood, an old servant of his own, who could neither read
nor write, and who was sworn by the lieutenant that should
he see or hear anything against the King he should declare
it to him at once.
The use to which Sir Thomas applied his pen and ink
was, without delay, to write the following letter to
Margaret :
"April 17, 1534.
" My dearest Daughter, When I was before the lords at
Lambeth, I was the first called in ; though Master Doctor,,
the vicar of Croydon, and several others, had come before
me. After they had declared to me why I was sent for (at
which I wondered), seeing there was no other secular man
there but myself, I asked to see the oath, which they showed
me under the great seal, as also the act of the succession,
which was delivered me in a printed roll. I then read
them to myself, and considered the act with the oath, and
showed them that my purpose was not to put any fault
in the act or he that made it, or in the oath or any man
that swore it, nor to condemn any man's conscience ; but,,
as for myself, my conscience so moved me, that though I.
Q
22 6 The Tower.
would not deny to swear to the succession, yet to the oath
I could not swear without jeopardy to my soul. And that
if they doubted if I refused the oath for the grudge of my
conscience or for any fancy, I was ready to satisfy them on
my oath, which if they trusted not, what should they be the
better for giving me an oath ; and if they trusted I would
swear true, then I hoped they would not move me to swear
the oath they offered me to swear, it being against my
conscience. To this my Lord Chancellor* said, they were
all very sorry to see me refuse the oath, saying, I was the
very first who had refused it, which would cause the King's
highness to conceive great suspicion and great indignation
towards me ; and then they showed me the roll, with the
names of the lords and commons who had sworn and sub-
scribed their names already. And seeing I still refused
to swear the same myself, not blaming any that had sworn,
I was bid go down into the garden ; but I tarried in the old
chamber that looked into it, and would not go down on
account of the heat. And then I saw Master Doctor Lati-
mer come into the garden, walking about with various other
doctors and chaplains of my lord of Canterbury ; and very
merry I saw he was, for he took one or two about the neck
right handsomely. After that came Master Doctor Wilson
forth from the lords and he was with two gentlemen sent
straight unto the Tower. What time my Lord of Rochester
was called in before them I cannot tell ; but at night I
, heard he had been before them ; but where he remained
until sent hither, I never heard. I heard also that
Master Vicar of Croydon and the remainder of the
priests of London that were sent for were sworn,
* Sir Thomas Audley.
The Tower. 227
and that they had such favour at the hands of the
council that they were not detained and made to dance
attendance to their own cost, as suitors are sometimes wont
^to be; but were speedily dismissed. And that Master Vicar
of Croydon, either for joy, or for thirst, or else that it might
be seen quod ille notus erat pontifici? went to my lord's
buttery bar, called for drink, and drank valde familiariter.\
" As soon as they had played their pageant, and gone out of
the place, I was called in again, and was told what a number
had sworn since I had left, without any scruple, for which I
blamed no man, answering only for myself as before. Then
again they spoke of my obstinacy, that since I refused to
swear, I would not declare any special part of the oath that
pricked my conscience. And I told them that I feared the
King's highness would, as they said, take displeasure enough
only for refusing the oath and if I should say why, I should
but further exasperate him, and would rather abide
all the harm that might come unto me than occasion his
highness further displeasure than the offering of the oath to
me constrained me of pure necessity. Then many times
they imputed obstinacy to me, that I would neither swear
nor say why I declined ; and rather than I would be thus
accounted, I said I would declare the cause in writing upon
the King's gracious licence, or such commandment of his
as might be my sufficient warrant that my declaration should
not offend him, nor put me in danger of any of his statutes ;
and above that, I would give an oath in the beginning that
if I might find those causes by any man answered as might
satisfy my conscience, I would after swear the principal oath
* "That he was known to the chief priest."
f Right jollily.
22 8 The Tow>r.
also. To this they said that, though the King would give
me licence under his letters patent, yet would it not serve
against the statute. To which I said, that if I had them I
would stand to his honour ; but if I may not declare the
cause without peril, then to leave them undeclared is no
obstinacy.
" My Lord of Canterbury then took hold of my saying
that I did not condemn those who swore, saying it showed
that I did not take it for a certain thing that I might not
swear, but as very doubtful ; but you do know for a certainty,
without doubt, that you are bound to obey your sovereign
lord and king, and so are bound to leave off the doubt of
your uncertain conscience in refusing the oath : take the sure
way, obey your prince, and swear it. Now in my own mind not
convinced, yet this argument, coming suddenly out of so
noble a prelate's mouth, I could only answer I thought I
might not do so, because in my own conscience this was not
a case in which I should obey my prince, whatsoever others,
whose conscience or learning I would not take on me to
judge, thought in the matter ; the truth seemed to me on
the other side, for I had not informed myself suddenly, but
by long leisure and diligent search ; and if that reason may
conclude, then have we a sure way to avoid all perplexities ;
for in whatever matter the doctors stand in doubt, the King's
command, given on whichever side he liketh, solves the
doubts.
" Then said my Lord of Westminster, howsoever the matter
seems unto your mind, your mind is erroneous, when you
see the great council of the realm determine the contrary ;
you ought to change your conscience.
To this, said I, were there not one on my side, and the
The Tower. 229
whole parliament on the other, I would be sore afraid to
lean to my own mind ; but I have on my side as great a
council, and the greater ; so I am not bound to change my
conscience, and conform to the council of one realm against
the whole of Christendom.
" Then Master Secretary swore a great oath, that lie had
rather that his only son had lost his head, than that 1 should
have refused the oath ; for that the King would hold me in
suspicion, and think the matter of the nun of Canterbury
contrived by me.
" The contrary is well known, said I ; and whatever
shall happen me, it is not of my power to help it without
peril to my soul.
" My Lord Chancellor then repeated before me my refusal
to Master Secretary, as he was going unto the King's grace ;
and in the repeating said I denied not, but was content to
swear to the succession.
" As for that point, I will be content, said I, so that I
may see my oath so framed as may stand with my conscience.
When said my lord :
" ' Marry, Master secretary, mark that, so he'll not swear
that either, but under some certain fashion/
" Verily, no, indeed, quoth I, I will see it made in such
a manner first, that I shall know I am neither forsworn nor
swear against my conscience. As to swearing to the succes-
sion, I see no danger ; but it is reasonable that to my oath
I look well myself, and take counsel also and never swear
for a piece and set my hand to the whole ; but, so help me
God, as regards the whole oath, I never led any mar: from
taking it, nor advised any to refuse it, nor put any scruple in
any man's head ; but leave every man to his own conscience.
230 The Tower.
And methinks it were right every man should leave me to
mine."
It was on the lyth of April, 1534, that More was com-
mitted for trial. The following prayer bears the date of the
same year, but the month is not named, probably it was the
outpouring of More's heart to his God, when first he became
an inmate of his prison lodging in the Bell Tower, which
tradition names as the place of his confinement. Therefore
we will insert it here ; and the letters, according to the
dates, shall follow in rotation. It is headed as follows :
"A godly meditation, written by Sir Thomas More, Knight,
whilst prisoner in the Tower of London, in the year of our
Lord 1534."
" Give me thy grace, good Lorde, to set the worlde at
nought.
" To set my mynde fast upon Thee.
" And not to change upon the blaste of men's mouthes.
" To be content to be solitary.
" Not to long for worldlye companye.
" Lytle by lytle utterly to cast off the worlde, and rydde
my mynde of all the busyness thereof.
" Not to longe to hear of any worldlye thynges, but that the
hearing of worldlye thynges may be to me displeasant.
"Gladly to be thynking of God.
" Piteously to call for His help.
'To leane unto the comfort of God, and busily to labour
to love Hym.
" To knowe myne own wretchedness.
"To humble myself under the myghte hand of God.
" To bewail my sins passed.
" For the purging of them, patiently to suffer adversitye.
The Tower. 231
" Gladly to bear my purgatory here.
"To be joyful of tribulations.
" To walk the narrow way that leadeth to lyfe.
" To bear the crosse with Christ.
" To have the laste thyngs in remembrance.
" To have ever before my eyes my death, that is ever at
hande.
" To make death no stranger to me.
" To foresee and consider the everlasting pains of hell.
" To pray for pardon before the judge cometh.
" To have continually in mynde the passion that Christ
suffered for me.
fa For His benefittes incessantly to give Hym thanks.
" To lyve the time again that I before have lost.
" To abstaine from vaine conversations.
" To eschew light foolish mirth and gladness.
"Recreations not necessary, to cast off, worldly substance,
frendes, liberty, lyfe, and all, to settle the losse at right
nought for the winning of Christ.
"To think my worst enemies my best frendes."
" For the brethren of Joseph could never have done hym
so muche good with their love and favour, as they did hym
with their malice and hatred.
"These mindes are more to be desired of every man, than
all the treasures of all the princes and kynges, Christian and
heathen, were it gathered and layde together all in one
heape."
The following bears no date :~ -
:< My dearest Daughter Our Lorde keepe me continually
true, faithfule and playne, to the contrary whereof I beseech
hym heartily never to suffer me to live. For as for long lyfe,
232 The Tower.
as I have often told thee, Megge, I nayther looke for nor long
for it, but am well content to go, if God call me hence
to-morrow ; and I thanke our Lord I knowe no person living
that I would have endure one filip for my sake, of whiche
minde I am more glad than of all the worlde besyde.
"Recommend me to your shrewde Will and mine other
sonnes, and to John Harris, my frende, and yourself knoweth
to whom else, and to my shrewd wife above alle. and God
make and keepe you all His servantes."
A few days after his imprisonment in the fortress, Margaret
wrote him a letter, in which she appeared to endeavour to
persuade him to take the oath, by so doing she won a certain
degree of credence with Cromwell, so that in the end she
obtained liberty to have free access to her father, a permis-
sion which she profited by during the greater 'part of his
imprisonment. Cromwell, doubtless, believed he could
practise on More through the affections of his daughter.
The reply of Sir Thomas to Margaret's letter, alluded to
above, was as follows :
OUR LORD BLESSE You.
" If I had not been, my dearly beloved daughter, at a
firm and fast point, I trust in God's great mercy, this good
great while before, your lamentable letter had not a little
abashed me, surely far above all other things, of which I
have often not a few terrible ones. Surely none of them
ever touched me so near nor were so grievous to me as to
see you, my well beloved child, in so vehemently piteous a
manner labouring to persuade me to the thing concerning
which I have for pure necessity, for respect to my own soul,
so often spoken precisely to you.
" Concerning the chief points of your letter I can make
2 he Tower. 233
no reply; for I doubt not you well remember that the
matters which move my conscience (without declaration
whereof I cannot touch upon the points) I have often told
you I will disclose to no one. Therefore, daughter
Margaret, I can in this do nothing, but as- you labour and
entreat me to follow your mind, again to desire and pray
you to desist from such labour, and with my former answers
to keep yourself content. A deadly grief to me, much
more deadly than to hear the decree of my own death (for
the fear of that, I thank our Lord, the fear of hell, the hope
of heaven and the passion of Christ daily more and more
assuage) is, that I perceive my good son your husband, and
you, my good daughter, and my good wife, and my other
good children and innocent friends, are held in great dis-
pleasure, ancL are in great danger of harm thereby. To
hinder which resteth not with me, I can but commit all to
God (Nam in manu Dei, saith the Scriptures, cor regis est,
et sicut divisiones aquarum quocunque voluerit impellit illud)*
whose great goodness I most humbly beseech to incline
the noble heart of the King's highness tenderly to favour all
of you, and to favour me no better than God and myself
know that my faithful heart towards him and my daily
prayers for him deserve ; for if his highness might see my
mind such as God knows it to be, it would, I trust, soon
soothe his great displeasure. But while I am in this world
I can never thus show it, so that his grace might think
differently of me ; I can but leave all in the hands of Him,
for fear of whose displeasure, for the safety of my soul,
without reproaching any oae, I now endure this trouble ;
* For in the hand of God, saith the Scriptures, is the heart of the
King, and as the division of the waters he inclines it.
234
The Tower.
out of which I beseech God to bring me when it pleaseth
Him, into His endless bliss in heaven ; and meanwhile to
give me grace, and you also, in all our agony and trouble
devoutly to dwell on the remembrance of that bitter agony
which our Saviour suffered before His passion on the
Mount ; and if we do so diligently, I verily trust we shall
find therein great comfort and consolation. And so, my
dear daughter, may the blessed Spirit of Christ, of His
tender mercy, govern and guide you all, to His pleasure and
your weal and comfort, both body and soul.
" Your tender, loving father,
"THOMAS MORE, Knight."
And this was Margaret's reply :
" Mine own good Father It is to me no little comfort,
since I cannot talk to you as I would, at leag; to console
myself in this bitter time of your absence by such means as
I may, by as often writing to you as shall be expedient, and
by reading again and again your most fruitful and delectable
letter, the faithful messenger of your very virtuous and
spiritual mind, rid from all corrupt love of worldly things,
and fast knit only in the love of God and desire of heaven,
as becometh a true worshipper and a very faithful servant of
God, who I doubt not, good father, holdeth His holy hand
over you, and shall (as He hath) preserve you both body
and soul (ut sit mens sana in corpore sano),* now when you
have cast away all earthly consolations, and resigned your-
self willingly, gladly, and fully for His love to His holy pro-
tection. Father, what think you hath been our comfort
since you departed from us? Surely nothing but the
experience we have had of your life past, your godly con-
* That you may have a sound mind in a sound body.
The Tower. 235
versation, wholesome counsel, and virtuous example, and a
certainty not only of a continuance of the same, but also a
great increase by the goodness of our Lord to the great rest
and gladness of your heart, devoid of all earthly dross, and
garnished with the noble vestures of heavenly virtues, a
pleasant place for the Holy Spirit of God to rest in. May
He defend you (as I doubt not, "good father, of His good-
ness He will) from all trouble of mind and body, and give
me, your most loving, obedient daughter and handmaid,
and all us your children and friends, to imitate all that we
praise in you, and to our only comfort remember you, that
we may meet with you, mine own dear father, in the bliss of
heaven, to which our most merciful Lord hath brought us
with His most precious blood
" Your own most loving and obedient daughter and peti-
tioner, Margaret Roper, who desireth above all worldly
things to be in John a Wood's place to do you some service.
But we live in hope that we shall shortly receive you again.
I pray God heartily we may, if it be His holy will."
The joy of the father and daughter on again meeting each
other may be better imagined than described. Always
devotedly attached to her father by more than even the
usual love which binds the child to its parent, Margaret
beheld him endued with a new character, which won her
especial veneration, that of a confessor, whom she doubted
nothing in her own mind, would soon wear the crown of a
martyr.
He was changed both in person and in character, suffering
and imprisonment had left their trace upon his features ; his
face was more pallid than of old, but his keen grey eyes
bright as ever ; there was no longer, however, his old joyous
236 The Tower.
spirits, these had sobered down into a quiet, calm cheerful-
ness ; ever and again too those features which she had been
used to behold all aglow with gladness,and radiant with happi-
ness were shadowed over with a gravity she had never seen
them assume in other days.
Taking her by the hand when she entered, he made her
kneel down, and then ere he touched upon the subject
nearest their hearts ; they prayed together.
" The seven Psalms and the Letany sayde," he rose,
gazed lovingly on this daughter of his fondest affection,
embraced her, and sitting down beside her, said he to
Margaret :
" I believe, Megg, that they who have put me here think
they have done me a great displeasure, but I assure thee on
my faith, mine own good daughter, that if it had not been
for my wife and children, whom I account the chief part of
my charge, I would not have failed long ere this to have
closed myself in as straight a cell as this, and straighter too,
and since I have come here without my own will, I trust
that God of His goodness will discharge me of my care, and
graciously supply the want of my presence amongst you.
Methinks, Megg, God dealeth with me as with a wanton
child, and doth dandle me as He dandleth his best friends,
even as He hath done S.S. Peter and Paul, and all His holy
martyrs, whose example may He make me worthy to imitate."
Little by little somewhat of his own calm composure
communicated itself to the unhappy Margaret, and she
strove to rally her spirits, drive back the tears which
ever and again welled up into her eyes, and even to
force a smile as some playful sally ever and again fell
from the lips of this saintly Christian and philosopher,
The 7ower. 237
who even in the hour of direst anguish knew how to extract
sweets from his sorrows, and so well practised that first and
most essential virtue, entire resignation to the will of God.
And then, having craved his fatherly blessing and affec-
tionately embraced him, she took her leave, and wended her
way out from the cruel Tower back to the busy scenes of
life, pausing yet, as she stood upon the Tower green, to gaze
in the direction of the prison lodging, which confined him
whom she held so dear.
He was no longer with her to cheer her with his smile,
and she turned away at length, sad and sorrowful, and
mingled with the throng of wayfarers in Tower Hill.
After this first interview Margaret was for some months
allowed free access to her father. The following letter, said
to have been written with a coal, was probably given very
soon after the permission to visit him had been accorded.
It is addressed :
" To all my lovinge frendes Forasmuch as being in
prison I cannot tell what need I may have, or what necessity
1 may hap to stand in, I hartily beseech you all, if my
well beloved daughter, Margaret Foper, which onelyofall
my frendes hath by the Kyng's gracious permission, license
to resorte unto me, do anything desire of any of you, of such
things as I shall hap to nede, that it may like you no less to
regard and tender it than if I moved it unto you, and required
it of you personally present, myself, and I beseech you all
to praye for me, and I shal praye for you."
" Your faithful lover and poor bedesman,
" THOMAS MORE, Knight, prisoner."
It is necessary here to advert to Bishop Fisher, who was
also committed to the Tower about the same time as Sir
238 Tht Tower.
Thomas, these friends and fellow-captives were lodged in
the Bell Tower, and the confinement of the bishop was
more rigorous from the first than was that of the ex-
chancellor.
Both these illustrious captives Anne Boleyn is said to
have regarded with the deepest resentment. She knew
that from the first Fisher had expressed his aversion for
the divorce in most unqualified terms of disapprobation,
whilst More, who though he so far temporised as to consent
to investigate the matter with the bishops appointed by the
King, never yielded, and as well he had no doubt wounded
her female vanity, by refusing to be present on the day of
her coronation.
2 39
CHAPTER XVI.
LADY ALLINGTON'S LETTER.
THE following letters, extracted from the works of Sir
Thomas, will, we are sure, be read with much interest :
" In August, in the year of our Lord 1534, the Lady Alice
Allington, wife to Sir John Allington, Knight, and daughter
to Sir Thomas More's second wife, wrote the following
letter to Mistress Roper
' * Sister Roper, With all my heart I recommend me unto
you, thanking you for all kindness : the cause of my writing
is to show you that two hours after my coming home, my
Lord Chancellor did come to take a course at a buck in
our park, the which was a great pleasure to my husband.
Then, when he had taken his pleasure and killed his deer,
he went to Sir Thomas Barnstow's to bed, at whose house
I met him the next day at his desire, to which I could not
say nay, for he begged me heartily and most especially,
because I would speak to him of my father. And when I
saw my time, I besought him as humbly as I could, that he
would be still good lord unto him. First, he answered,
that he would be glad to do for him even as for his own
fat her, and he said he appeared very well when the matter
of the nun was laid to his charge, and as to the other
matter he marvelled that my father was so obstinate in his
own conceit, for that every one went forth, save only the
blind bishop and he ; 'and in good faith,' said he, ' I am
240 Lady Allingtorts Letter.
very glad that / have no learning, 5 but I know a few of
Esop's fables, of which I will tell you one. There was a
country in which there were none but fools, saving a few
men which were wise, and they by their wisdom knew that
theyre should fall a great raine, that should make all them
fools that should be wet therewith : they seeing that, made
them caves under ground till all the rayne was past. Then
they came forth thinking to make the fools do what they
list, and to i ale them as they woulde. But the fools would
none of that, but would have the idle themselves for all
their craft. And when the wise men saw that they could
not obtain their purpose, they wished that they had been
in the rayne and had wetted their garments with the fools.
When this tale was told, my lord laughed merrily, and I
replied, 'for all this meny fable, I have no doubt but
that he would be good lord to my father, when he saw his
time (opportunity).'
" I would not have your father so scrupulous of his con-
science, said he, and then he told me another fable Oi f a
lion, an ass, and a wolfe, and how they went to confession ;
first the lion confessed tl at he had devoured all the beasts
he could meet with, his confessor absolved him because he
was a king, and it was his nature so to do ; then came the
poor ass, and said that he took but one straw out of his
master's shoe for hunger, by which means he thought his
master did take cold, this great trespass the confessor could
not absolve, but sent him to the bishop ; then came the
wolfe and made his confession, and he was strictly for-
bidden to exceed the cost of sixpence at a meal, but when
the wolfe had used this much of diet, at a time, he waxed
very hungry, insomuch that on a day when he saw a cow
Lady Allingtorfs Letter. 241
with her calf come by him, he sayd to himselfe, ' I am very
hungry, and fain would I eate, but that I am bound by my
ghostly father ; notwithstanding that, my conscience shall
judge me, and then if that be so, then my conscience shall
be this, that the cow doth seem to me now but worth a
groat, then is the calf but worth twopence.' So did the
wolfe eate both the cow and the calfe. Now,' my good sister,
hath not my lord told me two odd fables. In good faith,
they pleased me not at all, nor I wist not what to say, for I
was ashamed of this answer, and I see no better suit than
to Almighty God, for He is the comforter of all sorrows,
and will not fail to send comfort to his servants when they
have most need. Thus fare ye well, myne ovvne good
sister.
" Written on Monday after S. Laurence in haste.
"Your Sister, ALICE ALLINGTON.."
The following reply to the above letter makes known to
us the communication that passed between the prisoner
and his daughter :
"Sister Allington, When I next visited my father, I
thought it proper and requisite to show him your letter,
proper,- that he may see for himself how lovingly you take
his case to heart, requisite as he may thereby perceive that
if he still stand in such scruple of conscience (as it is ten-
derly called by many that are his frendes and wyfe), all his
frendes that seem most able to benefit him, either will
finally forsake him, or perchance not indeed be able to do
him any good at all. For these reasons, at my next being
with him after receiving your letter, when I had talked with
him awhile of his old disease in his chest, and of his pre-
R
242 Lady Allingtoris Letter.
sent internal complaint, and also of the crampe that many
nights grips him in the legs, and that I found his bodily
pains had not increased but continued as formerly, some-
times very painful, sometimes less, and at this time finding
him pretty well, after oure seven psalms and the letany
sayde, beginning to talk and be merry first with matters
about the comfprt of my mother, and the good order of my
brother and sisters, that he hoped disposed themselves daily
more and more to set little by the world and draw more
closely to God, and that his family, his neighbours, and
other good frendes, diligently remembered him in their
prayers, I said
" I pray God, dear father, that their prayers and ours
may purchase grace of God, His grace that you may in this
great matter, for which you are in this trouble, and for
which also we all who love you, may take such means, as
agreeing with the will of God, may content and please the
King, whom you have always found so singularly gracious
to you, but if you stiffly refuse to do the thing that would
please him, which God not offended, you might do (as
many great, wise, and learned say that you may), it would
be a great blot in you in every wise man's opinion, and as
I have heard some say, whom you have always, held for
good and learned, a peril to your soul also. But as for that
point, dear father, I will not be so bold as to dispute upon
it, for I trust in God, and your own good heart, that you
will look surely to it, and your learning is such that I well
know you can.
"But there is one thing, father, which I and your friends
perceive, which, if it be not shown you, you may peradventure
to your soul's peril mistake, and hope for less harm (for as
Lady Allingtorfs Letter. 243
for good I wot well that in this world you expect none)
than I fear may fall upon you. For I assure you, father,
I received lately a letter from my sister Allington, from
which I clearly see that if you do not change your mind
you are likely soon to lose all those friends that are able to
do you any good ; and if you do not lose their good will,
you will lose its effects for any benefit they might be able
to do you.
" * What, Mistress Eve,' said my dear father with a smile,
' hath my daughter Allington played the serpent with you,
and with her letter set you to work to come and tempt
your father again, and for the love that you bear him set
him to swear against his conscience, and so send him to
the devil.'
"Then he looked very sad, and said to me earnestly
" ' Daughter Margaret, we two have talked over this
matter twice or thrice, and the same tale that you tell me
now, with the same fear have you told me before ; I have
twice told you that if in this matter it were possible for me
to do the thing that would content the King's grace, God
not offended, then hath no man taken this oath more gladly
than I would do, as one that reckoneth himself deeply
beholden to the King's highness for his goodness many
ways shown me, more than all others. But in conscience
I can in no way do it, and for my own instruction in the
matter I have not slightly looked over, but have studied
and consulted many of the fathers, but can find nothing,
nor shall I ever, to induce me to think other than I do. I
have no remedy. God hath put me in this strait, that
either I must deadly displease Him, or abide any worldly
harm that He shall for mine other sins under this matter
244 Lady Allingtorfs Letter.
suffer to fall upon me. As I have told you, Margaret, before
I came here, I did not leave unthought of, or unconsidered,
the very worst that could by any possibility fall upon me ;
and although I know my own frailty well, and the natural
weakness of my heart, yet if I had not trusted God would
give me strength to suffer rather than sore offend Him by
swearing against my conscience, you may be very sure I
had not come here. I look only to Him, it matters not to
me that men shall say if it pleases them, that it is not con-
science but a foolish scruple.' Then said I
" In good faith, father, it cannot become me either to
mistrust your mind or your learning, but as you speak of
some terming it a scruple, you shall see by my sister's
letter that one of the highest state in the realm, a learned
man too, as I dare say you will think when you know who
he is, you have already proved him to be your friend,
accounteth your conscience in this matter as a right simple
scruple, you may be sure he saith it with no small cause.
* You say,' he says, ' your conscience holds you to this,
while all the nobles of the realm, and all other men also,
go boldly forth and stick not thereat, save only you and
one other, who though he be right good, and very learned,
gives you advice against all others to lean to his mind
alone.' With these words I showed him your letter that
he might see I spoke not of myself, but used the words of
one whom he highly esteems.
" He read your letter twice, sister, making no haste over
it, but reading it leisurely, pondering over every word, then
said he
"'Forsooth, daughter Margaret, 'I find my daughter
Allington such as I have found her, as I trust I ever shall,
Lady Allingtorfs Letter. 245
thinking of me as tenderly as you, who are mine owne.
Howbeit, I verily deem her as mine, as I married her
mother, and brought her up from a child, as I brought up
you, in other things, as well as learning, and I thank God
she findeth now the good of it, and bringeth up her children
well and virtuously, I thank God he hath sent her good
store. May he preserve them all, and my good son, her
husband too. I am her daily bedesman (so write her for
all), in this matter she hath behaved like herself wisely, like
a very daughter to me, and at the end of it she giveth as
good counsel as any man would wish, God reward her
for it
" Now daughter, Margaret, as for my lord, I not only
think but have always found, that he is undoubtedly my
friend. In mine other business concerning the nun, as
my case was clear, so was he, my good lord, and Master
Secretary my good master too, for which I shall ever be a
faithful bedesman for them both, and pray for them as for
myself. And should it ever happen, which I trust in God
it never may, that I be other than true to my prince ; let
them never favour me again ; it would not become them to
do so. But to tell the truth, Megg, between thee and me,
my lord's -^Esop's fables do not move me a bit, but as he
in his wisdom, for his pastime, told them merely to mine
own daughter, so shall I for mine, answer them to thee,
Megg, for thou art mine other daughter.
" The first fable of the rayne that washed away all their
wits, I have heard before ; it was a tale often told to the
King's council by my Lord Cardinal, when his Grace was
Chancellor, and I cannot soon forget it, for in past times
when there was variance between the Emperor and the
246 Lady Allingtorfs Letter.
French king, so that they were likely and indeed did go
to war together, and that there were various opinions held
in the council, in which some were minded that it would
be wise to sit still and let them alone, but more against
that plan, my lord told this fable of the wise men, that
because they would not be washed with the rain that should
make all the people fools, went and hid themselves under-
ground ; but when the rain was gone and they came out
and would utter their wise sayings, the fools conspired
together against them, and would rule over the wise men ;
'and so,' said his Grace, 'if we would be so wise as to sit
still whilst the fools fought, they would not fail by and by
to make peace and fall upon us. I will not dispute as to
his Grace's counsel. I trust we never made war but when
we were obliged by good cause, but this fable put in his
fashion, did in his day help the King and the people to
the spending of many a fair penny ; but those years have
passed and his Grace is gone, our Lord absolve his soul,
and now I come to that ^Esop's fable, as my lord merrily
laid it out for me. To speak the truth, Meg, before the
rayne came, if the wise men thought all the rest would turn
into fools, and were so silly that they would, or so mad
as to think they should rule over fools, and lacked wit
enough to remember that there are none so unruly as they
that are short witted, then were those wise men stark fools
themselves before ever the rayne came. However, daughter
Roper, whom my lord taketh to be wise men, or whom
soever he taketh to be fools, I cannot very well guess, I
cannot read such riddles. For as Danus saith in Terence
Nonsum (Edipus* I may say you wot well, Nonsum
* I am not CEdipus.
Lady Allinqtorts Letter. 247
(Edipus* sed Moros, which name of mine what it signifieth
in Greek I need not tell you. But I trust my lord reckon -
eth me amongst the fools, and so reckon I myself, as my
name is in Greek, and I find, I thank God, reasons not a
few, wherefore I should J be so in very deed, but surely
amongst those that long to be rulers, God and mine own
conscience clearly knoweth that no man may truly reckon
or number me. And I ween every man's conscience may
tell him the same, since it is well known that of the King's
great goodness I was one of the greatest rulers in the
realm, and only at mine own great trouble of his goodness
discharged ; and I pray God make us all so wise that we
may each so wisely rule ourselves in this sad time, and in
this vale of misery, this wretched world in which as
Bcethius saith, ' one man to be proud that he rules over
another man, is as if a mouse in a barn were to be proud
to rule over other mice,' God, I say, give us grace so wisely
to rule ourselves here, that when we shall haste to meet the
bridegroom, we be not taken asleep and for lack of light in
our lamps, be shut out of heaven amongst the foolish
virgins.
" The second fable, Margaret, seemeth not to be yEsop's,
for by it the matter hangeth all upon confession, it seemeth
to be since Christendom began, for in Greece before Christ's
days they used not confession, no more the men then than
beasts now. And ^Esop was a Greek, and died long ere
Christ was born ; but whoever made it matters little, I envy
not that yEsop hath the name, but it is too subtle for me,
for whom his lordship understandeth by the lion and the
wolf, who both confessed themselves of devouring all that
* I am not (Edipus but a fool.
248 Lady Allingtoris Letter.
came into their hands, and the one enlarged his conscience
at his pleasure, in the matter of his penance, nor who by
the good discreet confessor who enjoined the one a little
penance, and the other none at all, and yet sent the poor
ass to the bishop, of all these things can I nothing tell. But
by the foolish, scrupulous ass that had so sore a conscience
for the taking of a straw for hunger out of his master's
shoe, my lord's other words of my scruples declares that he
meant it for me, signifying as it seems, by that similitude,
that out of folly my scrupulous conscience taketh for a
perilous thing for my soul, if I should swear this oath which
his lordship thinketh but a trifle. I suppose, Margaret, as
you told me just now, and so many think beside, as well
spiritual as temporal, that of these who for their learning
and virtue I myself esteem, and yet though I believe I am
right, yet believe I not every man doth not so think. But
though they did, daughter, it matters not to me, even
should I see my Lord of Rochester say the same, and swear
the oath before me, too, for you told me but now, that such
as love me would not advise me, that against all others I
should lean to his mind alone, and truly, daughter, I do
not ; for though I hold him in respectful veneration and
esteem, no man in wisdom, learning, or virtue, fit to be
matched or compared with him, yet in this matter I was in
no way led by him, as is plain, because I refused the oath
before it was offered him, and also when you told me that
his lordship was content to have sworn the oath, verily,
daughter, I never intend, by God's help, to pin my soul to
another man's back, not even the best man living, for I
know not whither he may chance to carry it, there is no
living man of whom while he lives one can make sure.
Lady Arlington's Letter. 249
Some may yield for favour, and some for fear, and so
might carry my soul a long way, and some might chance
to frame themselves a conscience, and think that while he
hid it in fear, God would forgive it, and some may think
that if they say one thing and think the contrary, God will
regard the heart more than the tongue, and that their oath
will depend on what they think, and not on what they say.
As a woman reasoned once, I trow, daughter, you were
standing by. But in good fayth, Margaret, I can use no
such wayes in so great a matter, but like as if mine own
conscience served me, I would not let to do it, though
other men refused, so though others refuse it not, / dare
not do it, my conscience standeth against me. If I had,
as I tolde you, looked but lightly into the matter, I shold
have cause to feare, but now have I so looked and so long,
that I purpose at the least to have no less regard for my
soule, than had once a poor honest countryman, whom they
called Company. Saying this, Alice, he told me a tale, and
I ween I must tell it to you agayne, because it hangeth
upon some foims and ceremonies of the law. As farre as
I can call to mind, my father's tale was this. There is a
court belonging of course to every fayre. This court hath
a pretty fond name, but I cannot happen upon it, but it
beginneth with a P, and the rest goeth much like the name
of a knight that I have known, I wis, and I trowe you too,
for he hath often been at my father's at such time as you
were there, a metely, tall, dark man, hys name was Syr
William Pounder. But let the name of the court go for
this once, or call it if ye will a court of Syr William Pounder.
But thys was the matter, that upon a time at such a court
holden at Bartylmewe fayre, there was a London escheator
250 Lady Allingtorfs Letter.
that had airested a man that was outlawed, and had sealed
hys goods that he brought to the fayre. Thyss man that
was arrested was from the North, and through hys friends
he caused the escheator himself to be arrested, he had done
something, I wot not what, and so was he brought before
the judge of the court of Syr William Pounder, and at last
the matter came to a certain ceremony to be tryed by a
quest of xii men, a jury, as I remember they call it, or a
perjury. Now, the clothman from the North had by
favour of the officers found the means to have the quest
almost made of the Northern men, such as had their
boothes standing in the fayre. It had come to the after-
noon of the last day, and the xii men had heard both par-
ties, and theyre council tell their tales at the bar, and from
thence they were had in a certain place to talk in common
and agree as to their understanding, nay, let me use better
terms, for I trow the judge giveth sentence, and the quests'
tale is called a verdict.
" They had come in together, but the Northern men were
agreed, and, indeed, the others too, to cast out the London
escheator. They thought they needed no more to prove
that be had done wrong than the bare name of his office,
but there was amongst them an honest man of another
quarter, that was called Company, and because the fellow
seemed but a fool and sate still, and sayd nothing, they
made no reckoning of hym, but sayd, ' come, we be agreed
now, come let us give our verdict.' Then the poore fellow
said that they made such haste, and his mind nothing gave
him, that way that theirs did, if their minds were as they
said, he prayed them to tarry and talk upon the matter, and
give him reasons that he might think as they did, and
Laay Ailingoris Letter. a $i
when he should so do, he would be glad to say with them,
or else they must excuse him, for sith he had a soule of his
own to keepe as they had, he must say as he thought for
hys, as they must for theirs. When they heard him talk
thus they were angry with him.
" * What ! good fellow,' quoth one of the North country-
men, * be we not eleven here, and thou but one alone, and
all we agree, wherefore shouldst thou stick; what is thy
name, fellow 1 '
" * Masters,' quoth he, * my name is called Company.*
" ' Company,' quoth they, ' now by thy teeth good fellow,
play thou the good companion, come forth with us, and
pass for good company.'
" ' Would God, good masters,' quoth the man, * that there
lay no more weight thereon, but when we shall go hence
and come before God, and He shall send you to heaven for
acting according to your conscience, and me to hell for
acting against mine, in passing here at your request for
good company, now, if I shall then, Master Dickenson, say
to you all, " Masters, I went once with all of you for company's
sake, so do some of you go with me now, would you gOj
Master Dickenson ? Nay, by our Lady, nay, never one of
ye all, and so must you pardon me from passing as you
pass, for if I think not in this matter as you do, I dare not,
for the passage of my soul surpasseth all good company.' "
<k When my father had told me of this tale, he further
said
" I pray thee now, good Margaret, wouldst thou wish
thy poor father, being at least somewhat learned, less to
regard the peril of his soul than did this simple and un-
learned man ; I meddle not, you wot well with the con-
252 Lady Allingtorfs Letter.
science of any man that hath sworn, if I, on the contrary,
with my conscience should pass on and swear with them,
when our souls hereafter shall pass out of this world, and
stand in judgment at the bar before the most high judge, if
He judge them to heaven and me to hell, because I did as
they did, not thinking as they thought, shold I then say as
the good man Company said. ' Mine own good lords and
frendes," calling on them by name, yea, and bishops perad-
venture, of such as I love best, I swore because you swore,
and went that way because you went ; do now for me like-
wise, let me not go alone, if there be any friendship in you ;
come, some of you, come with me, by my troth, Margaret,
I may say to you in secret between us two, but let it go no
further, I find the friendship of this wretched world so
fickle, that for all I might entreat and pray for friendship,
amongst them all, I ween I should not find one, and if so,
Margaret, I think best it is, were they twice as many as
they are, that I should have respect for my own soul.'
" ' But surely, father,' I replied, ' you may be bold enough
to swear without scruple for, father, they that think you
should not refuse to swear the thing that you see so many
good and learned men swear before you, do not mean that
you should swear to keep them company, but that the
esteem you may reasonably give to them, and their good
qualities, should lead you to think the oath such as any
man may take without danger, if their conscience be not
the hindrance, and you have good cause to conform yours
to theirs, being such as you know them to be, and sith
father, it is commanded by a law made by the parliament,
they think that you be on peril of your soul bound to reform
your conscience, and conform it to that of others.'
Lady Allingtorfs Letter. 253
" ' Margaret, Margaret,' he replied, 'for the part you play,
you play it not amiss, but, my daughter, as to the laws of
the land, though every man born and dwelling therein is
bound to keep them under temporal punishment, and in
many cases under God's displeasure too, yet is no man
bound to swear that every law is well made, nor bound on
pain of His displeasure to perform such points as were
unlawful, of which kind there mayhap to be many in any
part of Christendom.'
" But, Margaret, for what cause I refuse the oath, that
thing, as I have often told you, I will never show you,
neither you nor any one else, except the King's highness
should command me, but daughter, I have and do refuse it
for no cause save one, this I am sure is already well known,
that of them that have sworn some of the most learned
before the oath was given them, plainly affirmed the con-
trary of such things as they have now sworn, and that upon
their truth, and their learning, not in haste nor suddenly,
but often after greate diligence done to find out the truth.
" ' That might be, father,' I replied, 'and yet since then,
they might see,' - He interrupted me, saying
" I will not dispute, daughter, nor misjudge any man's
conscience ; it lieth in their own heart far out of my sight,
but this will I say, that / never heard the cause of their
change, they had, I suppose, well weighed matters before
they swore. I am glad for their sakes, but anything /ever
believed before seemeth at this day as formerly ; therefore,
though they may do otherwise yet, daughter, I may not,
some say I may less regard their change, because the keep-
ing in favour with the King, avoiding his anger, fear of
losing their worldly wealth, and the unhappiness of their
254 Lady Allingtoris Letter.
kinsfolk and friends may make some swear other than they
think, or frame their conscience anew. Such opinion I will
not hold of them, I have better idea of their virtue, for if
such things should have turned them, the same had been
likely to make me turn, for truly I know none so faint-
hearted as I am ; and so, Margaret, I will think no worse of
others than I do of myself, and as I know well my own
conscience causeth me to refuse the oath, so will I trust in
God that according to their consciences they have been
^ble to receive and swear to it.
" But, Margaret, you urge that there are so many more on
the other side ; but yet, thinking as I do, surely for your
own comfort you should not suppose that your father casteth
himself away like a fool, that he would jeopardise the loss of
his property, and perhaps his life, without cause of peril to
his soul, but rather endangering it thereby; but indeed,
Megg, I nothing doubt that though not in this realm, yet
throughout Christendom of the virtuous and learned men
living the greater portion are of my mind. Besides, ye
wot, it were possible that some in this realm too think not
the contrary so clear as they have sworn to by the oath they
have taken. So far for the living, go we now to them that
are dead, and that are I hope in heaven ; I am sure they are
not the fewest who all the time they lived believed as I do ;
and I am sure of this, Megg, that of those holy saints and
doctors which are in heaven long ago no Christian man
doubteth, whose books at this day show they thought as I
do. I pray God that my soul may follow theirs. I do not
say all, Margaret, that I could, but for the rest, my daughter,
as I have often told you, I take not upon myself to define
or dispute. I rebuke or impugn no man's actions ; I never
Lady Allingtorfs Letter. 255
wrote or spoke in any company one word of reproach
concerning anything that had passed through Parliament. I
meddle not with any who say or think contrary to me ; but
for myself, for thy comfort I say to thee, Margaret, my own
conscience in this matter is such that it may stand with my
salvation, of that, Megg, I am as sure as there is a God in
heaven ; and as for all the rest, goods, lands, and life (if it
should so hap), since conscience speaks for me, I verily
trust in God, He shall strengthen me to bear the loss
rather than to swear against it, sith all the causes that I per-
ceive move other men to the contrary make in me no
change."
At hearing all this I felt very sad, for I promise you, sister
Allington, my heart was full heavy at the peril of his life,
for i' faith I feare not for his soule ; then he smiled, and said :
"How now, daughter Margaret, how now, mother Eve,
upon what is your mind fixed ; sit not musing there with
some serpent in your breast, intent upon some new persua-
sion to offer father Adam, the apple yet once again."
" In good faith, father," quoth I, " I am, as Cressida
saith in Chaucer, coming to Dulcarno, even at my wit's
ends ; for sith the example of so many wise men cannot
move you, I see not what more to say unless I shall per-
suade you by the reason Master Harry Pattison made. He
met one day one of our men, and asking where you were,
and hearing you were in the Tower still, he waxed angry,
and said : * Why what aileth him that he will not swear, I
have sworn the oath myself?' And in good faith I can go
no further myself neither, but say with Master Harry, why
should you refuse, father, for I have taken the oath myself."*
* Margaret took the oath, coupled with the clause, as " farre as it
would stande with the lawe of God."
256 Lady Allingtons Letter.
On my saying this he laughed, and said " that was like
Eve too, for she had offered Adam no worse fruit than she
had eaten herself."
" But father," said I, <5 1 feel very sad, this matter will
bring you into wondrous heavy trouble, you well know as I
told you, Master Secretary sent you word as your friend to
remember that the Parliament still lasteth."
To this, sister, he said :
" I thank him heartily, Margaret ; but, as I have often
told you, I have not left this matter unconsidered, albeit,
I know that if they made a law to do me harm, that law
could never be lawful, but God shall, I trust, keep me in
grsce, that, as concerns my duty to my King, no man
shall do me harm ; and then, as I told you, this is like
a riddle, a case in which a man may lose his head and have
no harm ; but I have good hope that God will not surely
surfer so good a Prince in such wise to requite the ser-
vice of a true and faithful servant, yet sith there is nothing
impossible, I forget not in this matter the counsel of Christ
in the Gospel, that as I began to build this house for the
safety of my soul, I should reckon up what the cost would be.
I counted up, Margaret, in many a restless night, while my
wife slept, what danger were possible to befal me, so far
that I am sure it cannot be exceeded ; and in thinking on
it, daughter, my heart was very heavy ; but still, for all that,
I thank God I never thought to change, though the very
worst might happen that I could possibly fear."
" To this, sister, I said sorrowfully :
" No, father, it is not the same to think on what may be,
as it is to think on what shal be, as you shal later, Our Lord
help you, if the case do so happen ; then, perchance, you
Lady Allingtoris Letter. 257
may think other than you do now, and peradventure it will
be too late."
"My words, sister, touched him sensibly. 'Too late,
daughter Margaret," he cried out ' I beseech, O Lord,
that if ever I do change, it may, indeed, be too late ; for well
do I know the change would not be for the good of my soul,
a change which groweth out of fear, and so I pray God that
in this world I never benefit by such a change, for, inasmuch
as I suffer here, I shall suffer less hereafter ; and if it were
so that I should slip, and fall, and out of fear swear, then do
I wish to be in danger by first refusing, as I shall have better
hope of grace to rise again \ and though I well know that
for my past sins I am well worthy God should let me fall,
yet do I trust in His great goodness, that as He hath
strengthened me hitherto, and made me content to lose all
rather than to forswear my conscience, and hath put the
King in that gracious mind to take from me only my liberty,
by which his grace hath done me good by the spiritual
profit it gives me (so that i' faith I reckon my imprison-
ment the greatest benefit). I cannot, .therefore, doubt but
that God will still keep the King in that same mind to do
me no harm ; and if it be his will that I should suffer inno-
cently, then his grace will strengthen me to bear it patiently,
aye, and even gladly, too, and that, in union with the suffer-
ings of His bitter passion, He will make it to serve as a
release from the pains of purgatory, and moreover increase
my reward in heaven. Mistrust Him, Meg, I will not, even
though I should feel me faint yea, even if I feel my fear
so great as on the point of overthrowing me, I will yet call
to mind how S. Peter began to sink for want of faith, and
called on Christ to help him ; and thus will I, too, call on
s
258 Lady Allingtoris Letter.
Him, and He will grasp me with His holy hands, and amidst
the stormy seas will bear me up from drowning; and,
Margaret, were He to suffer me to fall and swear, and for-
swear, too, (which God forbid, for His tender Passion's sake,)
and let me so fall that I may never win, yet will I trust that
after all He will cast on me a loving glance as He did on S.
Peter, and make me stand again and abide the shame and
confusion of my fault ; and once for all, Megg, this know I
for certain, that without I so will, He will not let me forswear
myself, and with good hope I commend myself to Him.
But even were He to suffer me to perish, I shall yet serve to
praise His justice ; but truly, Margaret, I trust His tender
pity will keep me safe, so to His mercy I commend me.
Therefore, mine own good daughter, r^ever trouble thyself
for anything that may happen me in this life, for nothing can
happen but that which God willeth, and I am very sure that
whatever that may be, let it seem ever so bad, it shall, indeed,
be the very best; and so, my dear child, I beg you, with all
my heart, you and your sisters, and my sons also, comfort
and help your good mother, my wyfe, of the minds of your
good husbands in this matter, I have no doubt. Remember
me to all of them, to my good daughter Allington and all my
other friends, nieces, nephews, and relations, and to all our
servants and children, and our acquaintances abroad. And
I pray that both you and they may serve God, and be glad,
and rejoice in Him ; and if anything happen me that you
would be loth to see, pray to God for me, but trouble not
yourself, and I will pray earnestly to God for all of us, that
we may meet in heaven, where we shall rejoice for ever, and
never, never more, have any trouble or sorrow."
The above letter sent by Mistress Roper to her half sister,
Lady Allingtorfs Letter. 259
Lady Allington, is an evidence that learned and virtuous as
she was, Margaret had but a woman's heart and head, and
so thoroughly and devotedly did she love her father, that
there is small reason to doubt that her ardent desire to save
his life, made her willing to shirk any close reasoning on the
matter, for which he was ready to lay, if needs be, his head
on the block. It is quite clear that she used every argu-
ment she could think of to persuade him to take the oath,
and it is also plain, that with the majority of the best of
those who had taken it, she had not entered deeply into the
importance of the question it involved.
How any one can be found to express a doubt that More
died a martyr, and for conscience sake, we can with
difficulty understand, his own words, showing plainly that he
did so; letters speak for themselves, and show far better the
character of the person who wrote them than the opinions
of others ; and all More's letters testify to one truth, namely,
that at this time his mind was so settled, his convictions so
firm, from the seven years' study of the question to which
the King himself had led him, that no power on earth could
now shake the one or disturb the other.
260
CHAPTER XVII.
SIR THOMAS MORE AND DR. WILSON.
THE following letters were addressed by More to Dr.
Wilson, and we are sure will be read with interest. The
latter had been the King's confessor, and was in the Tower
on account of his refusal to take the oath :
" Our Lord be your comforte.
" I perceive by sundry means that you have promised to
swear the oath, I beseech Our Lord give you good fortune ;
I never gave any man contrary counsels, nor any way put
scruples in the consciences of other folk concerning this
matter.
"And as I perceive that you would gladly know what I
intend to do, you wot well what I told you when we were
both free, that I wished neither to know your mind nor any
other man's, for I would not take part with any one,
nor will I ever, but leaving all to their own consciences, I
will myself with God's grace follow mine. Against mine
own to swear, would be at the risk of damnation, and of
what mine shall to-morrow be, I myself cannot be sure.
And whether I shall have the grace to act according to it or
not, dependeth on God's goodness and not on my own. I
beseech you commend me to Him in your devout prayers,
as I shall, and do now daily remember you in mine, such a=
they be. As long as my poor short life shall last, anything
that I have you shall share therein."
Sir Thomas More and Dr. Wilson. 261
ANOTHER LETTER FROM MORE TO THE SAME.
" Good Maister Wilson, in right hearty wyse, I com-
mend me to you, and very sorry am I to see that beside the
trouble you suffer by this imprisonment, with loss of liberty,
goods, revenues of your living, and comfort of the company
to your friends, you have fallen also into such anguish and
trouble of mind through doubts, that trouble your conscience
of your great heaviness of heart, as I (to no small grief of
my own mind for your sake) do well perceive. And, good
Maister Doctor, I am so much the more sorry for you be-
cause it lieth not in me to give you any kind of comfort, as
it seems to me you desire and look for at my hands.
" You in your own doubts would know somewhat of my
mind, but I am a man very little meet at present.
" You know well, good Maister Doctor, that at the time
the matter came in question, and that my opinion was asked
amongst that of others, you and I many times talked to-
gether thereof, and when I did by the King's gracious com-
mand seek out, and read, and commune, with such as I
know were privy to the matter, to discover what I might,
and by impartially weighing every thing as far as my poor
wit and learning would serve me, to see to which side my
conscience would incline and my mind guide me, so as to
report to his highness what I should think therein, for in
truth other commandment in this matter his grace never
gave me saving this, to which he added, ' that I should look
first to God, and after God to him,' which speech also was
the first his Grace gave me when I first came into his noble
service, and a more impartial commandment on a more
gracious lesson, never to my mynde could King give his
262 Sir Thomas More and Dr. Wilson.
servant ; but as I told you a long time since, I cannot now
tell how many years, or with whom I have conferred with of
this matter, also consulting the Scriptures and the holy
doctors, with the councils, and laws that also spoke thereof.
One whom I most conferred with was, as you wot well your-
self, for with none did I associate so much, and so often, as
with you, both on account of your substantial learning and
your mature judgment, and because I perceived that no
man could have a more faithful respect to the King's honour
and safety, both of soul and body, than I saw that you had.
And beyond many things that I admired in you, one
especially was your careful secret manner in the thing the
King's grace entrusted you with, for I had heard (I wot not
from whom) that you had written a book on that matter,
and had sent it his grace from Paris, yet in all the long
years of our acquaintance, and often talking and reasoning
on the thing, I never heard you once make mention of that
book. But else, except there were many other things in it
that you perchance did not think of afterwards, I suppose
all that ever came to your mind I might take in the matter
we considered together, as comprised in the Holy Scriptures
or taken from the ancient doctors. I remember now well,
that of those points you now call afresh to your remem-
brance, there was not one at that time forgotten, also by
our constant conferences in the matter, that all the time in
which you and I studied the question, we were in every
point agreed. I also remember well that the laws and
counsels and the words of S. Austin, De Civitate Dei, and
the epistle of S. Ambrose, ad paternum, the epistle of
S. Ambrose from the Greek, and the writings of S. Gregory,
we diligently studied together, and beyond these the
Sir Thomas More and Dr. Wilson. 263
Scriptures, both Leviticus and Deuteronomy, the Gospels,
and S. Paul's Espistles. Moreover various portions of S.
Austin, which you will remember, in which he toucheth on
the matter expressly, with the words of S. Jerome and S.
Chrysostome, and I cannot recollect how many more.
" I think as regards you, and I am very sure of myself,
albeit it had perchance been too long to read with you
every man's book (that I read by myself or which others
trusted me with, not giving me leave to show them further),
as you perhaps also did by me, yet you and I having both
one command to consider everything by Scripture and the
Doctors, I faithfully communed with you as I suppose you
did by me.
"So that from me, good Maister Doctor, though I had
every point as fresh in my mind now as I had then, yet could
you no new thing hear more than you have often heard
before. Now, it standeth with me in far other case, for when I
had signified to the King my own poor opinion in the matter
which his highness took very graciously in good part, and
that I did not see that I could do his grace further service
in the matter to his pleasure, and meddle against his
pleasure I would not, I resolved to rid my mind of any
useless studying or thinking further about it, and thereupon
I returned all the books that I had, save some that I burned
by consent of the owner, so that, good Maister Doctor, I
am not now able to discuss these points again, though were
I so minded, sith many things are now out of my mind
which I do not intend to look for again, and if I would,
should not be likely to find. Besides, all that ever I
looked for was, you well wot, concerning two or three
questions to be pondered and weighed by the study of the
264 Sir Thomas More and Dr. Wilson.
Scriptures, and the interpretations of the same, save some
that had been affected by the canon laws of the Church.
But then, there were other things at that time, faults found
in the bull of dispensation, by which the King's counsel
learned in the spiritual law, reckoned the bull defective
partly by reason of false suggestion, partly of insufficient
learning, concerning which points I never meddled, for
I neither understand the doctors of the law, nor can well
turn their books. Many things have since grown out of
this matter, of which I am neither learned nor informed
enough of the facts, and I am not one to murmur, grudge,
make assertions, or entertain suspicions about the matter,
but, like the King's poor humble subject, daily pray for the
preservation of the King and Queen's grace, their noble
offspring, and for the whole realm.
"Finally, as touching the oath, no man wotteth the
causes for which I refused it ; they be secret in my own
conscience, others perchance than those which men may
ween, and such as I never disclosed, nor ever intend to do.
Moreover, as I said to you before the oath was offered,
when we met in London by chance, I would be no
sharer with you in the matter, but for my own self follow
mine own conscience, for which I must answer to God,
and leave every man to his own. Every learned man
knows well, that there are matters in which every one is at
liberty, without peril of damnation, to think which way he
listeth, till a certain point be determined by a general
council, and I am not the man to define or determine of
what nature everything is that this oath containeth, nor am
I so presumptuous as to blame the consciences of others,
their truth, nor their learning, no, I meddle only with mine
Sir Thomas More and Dr. Wilson. 265
own conscience, and of none else. I cry God mercy, I find
in my own life matters enough to think upon. I have lived
methinks a long life, and I neither look nor long to live
much longer. Since I came into the Tower, I thought
once or twice I should have given up the ghost ere this,
and truly, mine heart waxed lighter with hope thereof, but
forget I not that I have a long and great reckoning to give
account of. But I trust in God, and in the merits of His
bitter passion, and I beseech Him to give and keep me in
the mind to long to be out of this world, and to be with
Him, for I can never believe that he who longs to be with
Him will not be welcome to Him; and furthermore, I am
minded that any that shall come to Him, must full heartily
wish to be with Him ere ever he -shall come at Him. I
beseech Him to fill your heart with such rest and quiet as
may be to His pleasure, and the welfare of your soul, and
that also, if it be His holy will, He will incline die King's
noble heart to be gracious and favourable both to you and
me, sith we two be of true and faithful mind to him,
whether in this matter we be both of one or differ. And if
the will of God be of either of us otherwise to dispose, I
need give you no counsel nor advice. For myself, I humbly
beseech Him, to give me grace patiently to conform my
mind to His good pleasure, that after the troublesome
storm of this tempestuous time, His great mercy may lead
me to the sure haven of the blissful joys of heaven, and (if
I have any) all my enemies also. For there shall we love
together easily enough, and for myself I thank our Lord, so
do I here to. Be not angry now, though I pray not the
same for you, you may be sure I wish my friends should fare
no worse than my enemies, nor they no worse than myself.
266 Sir Thomas More and Dr. Wilson.
"For our Lord's sake, good Maister Wilson, pray for me,
for I pray for you daily j sometimes, when I would be sorry
for you, if I thought you not asleep. Console yourself, good
Maister Doctor, by remembering God's great mercy, and
the King's usual goodness. Verily, I think that all his
grace's council favor you in their hearts. I cannot in my
own mind judge so badly of any of them as to mean you
otherwise than well. And, in conclusion, in God is all my
hope, Spes non confundis. I pray you pardon my scribbling,
for I cannot always write so well as I may at times. And I
beg you, when you see time convenient, to answer me this
rough billet."
The following letter was written by Sir Thomas to one
Master Leder, a virtuous priest, the i6th of January, 1535 :
" The tale that is reported, albeit I cannot but thank you,
though you wold it were true, is, I thank God, a very
vanity.
" I trust in the mercy of God that He will never suffer it
to be true. If I had been obstinate I would not (let)
scruple for any shame, plainly to confess the truth, for I do
not depend on the praise of the world, I thank God that I
do it for the weal of my soul, because I cannot think other
than I do, concerning the oath, if ever I should swear it
(I trust our Lord will never suffer me), ye may safely reckon
it were extracted by rough handling. As for the goods of
this world, I thank God I set no more store by them than
I do by dust. I trust they will use no violent and forcible
ways to me, and that if they do, God of His grace (the
rather a great deal through the prayers of good folks) will
give me strength to stand, for this, I am quite sure, if ever I
should swear it, I should swear deadly against my conscience,
Sir Thomas More and Dr. Wilson. 267
for I am very sure my mind will never change. It hath
been shown me that I am reckoned wilful and obstinate,
because since coming hither, I have not written to the
King's grace to make suit myself to his highn ess. I n good
faith I do not forbear out of obstinacy, but rather from a
reverent and lowly mind, because I see that I could write
nothing but that which I fear his grace were likely to feel
displeased with than otherwise, whilst he rather believeth
me obstinate than that my conscience stands in my way ;
but God, to whom I commend the whole matter, knoweth
better. In cujus manu corda regi sunt* I pray God that
all may prove as true and faithful subjects to the King
that have sworn, as I am very sure they be who have
refused to swear. In haste, this Saturday, the i6th day of
January, by the hand of your bedesman,
" THOMAS MORE, Knight, prisoner."
More did not neglect to point out to Margaret the utter
illegality of his imprisonment. No particular form of the
oath of succession had as yet been prescribed by the statute,
either from accident or design, and Henry, taking advantage
of the omission, afterwards modelled and re-modelled it at
his pleasure, and a clause was added by which the clergy
were required to declare that the Bishop of Rome had no
more authority in the realm, than any other foreign bishop,
and to acknowledge the king as supreme head of the Church.t
In autumn the parliament again assembled, and it was made
treason for anyone to wish, or will maliciously against the
* In whose hand are the hearts of kings,
f Without the saving clause, " as far as the law of God will allow."
268 Sir Thomas More and Dr. Wilson.
supremacy, and henceforward the oath of succession and
the supremacy were included under one.*
" I may tell thee, Megg," he had once said to Margaret,
"they who have committed me hither for refusing
an oath not agreeable with their own statute, are not
able by their own law to justify my imprisonment ; it is a
great pity that a Christian prince should be drawn to follow
his affections by bad counsel, or by a frail clergy who lack
grace, for want of which they fall away from learning, and
abuse themselves with flattery."
The defect in the statute was remedied, as we have said
above.
From time to time the unhappy Margaret visited her
father, conveying to him such sums as she could bring from
her own means or from the kindness of friends.
After several unavailing efforts Lady More at last obtained
leave to see her husband. Her first greeting could not have
been pleasant to the prisoner, but most certainly it was
characteristic of herself.
"What the good gear, Mr. More?" said she. I
marvel that you who have always been taken for a wise man
now chose to play the fool. Abiding here indeed in this
close and filthy prison, among the rats and mice, when you
might have your liberty with the favour and good-will of the
king and the council, if you would but do as others have
done as learned as you, and seeing you have at Chelsea a
* It was not till after some struggle that the king yielded to the
insertion of this qualification " maliciously." Arch. xxv. 795. At
More's trial, however, the judges contrived to render it useless, by
declaring that a refusal to acknowledge the supremacy was a proof of
internal "malice." LINOARD.
Sir Thomas More and Dr. Wilson. 269
right fair house, your library, your garden, and all other
necessaries about you ; and might be merry with your wife,
your children, and your household ! I wonder why in God's
name you tarry longer here."
Very calmly More heard this long speech ; then he said
to her cheerfully :
" I pray thee, Alice, tell me one thing. Ts not this
house as near heaven as my own ?"
Of course poor Lady More could not agree with her
husband's lofty aspirations, so she uttered her usual ejacu-
lations when angry, scornfully exclaiming :
" Twittle twattle, will this gear never be left ?"
" But say, Mistress Alice, is it not the truth ? "
" Bone Deus, man, will it never cease ? "
" Well then, Alice, if it be as I have said as near to
heaven as my own house, why should I not be as happy
here as there? For were I but under the ground some
seven years, and then to arise and go to that fair house of
mine, I should not fail to find some therein that would bid
me get out of it, and tell me it was none of mine. What
cause then have I to like a house that would so soon forget
its master? Again, tell me how long you think we may live
to enjoy it."
" Some twenty years, may be,"
* Truly ; now an you had said a thousand, that would
have been somewhat ; and yet methinks he would be a bad
merchant that would put himself in danger of losing
eternity fof a thousand years : how much the more if we
are not sure to enjoy it for one day ! "
Poor Lady More, however, she did her best for her
husband in her own way, as we may see from the following
270 Sir Thomas More and Dr. Wilson.
letter to Cromwell, written on account of her extreme
want.
" Right honourable and my especial gud Maister Secretarye,
In my most humble wyse I recommend me unto your gud
maistershypp, knowlegying myself to be most deeply
boundyn to your gud maistershypp for your manyfold
gudnesse and lovying favor, both before this tyme and now
dayly and always shewyd towards my poure husband and
me. I pray Almyghtye God to continue your gudnes so
still, for thereupon hangith the greatest part of my poure
husband's comfert and myne. The cause of my wrytynge
at this tyme is to certyfy your espescial gud maystershypp
of my great and extreme necessyte, which on and besydes
the charge of my own house doe pay weekly 1 5 shillings
for bord-wages of my poure husband and his servant for the
mayntaining whereof I have been compellyd of verey
necessyte to sell part of myn apparell for lack of other
substance to make money of. Wherefore my most humble
petition and sewte to your maistershypp at this tyme is to
desyre your maistershypp's favorable advyce and counsell,
whether I may be so bold to attend upon the King's most
gracyouse highness. I trust theyr is no dowte in the cause
of my impediment, for the younge man being a ploughman
had been dyseased with the aggue by the space of three
years before that he departed. And besides this, it is now
fyve weeks sith he departed, and no other person dyseased
in the house sith he left. I humblye beseeche you especyal
gud maistershypp (as my only trust is, and as know not what
to doe, but utterly in this world to be undone) for the love
of God to consider the premisses ; and thereupon of your
most abundant gudness, to shewe your most favourable helpe
Sir Thomas More and Dr. Wilson. 271
to the comfortyng of my poure husband and me in this our
great hevynes, extreme age, and necesstye. And thus we,
and all ours, shall dayly duryng our lyves pray to God for
the prosperous successe of your ryght honourable dygnyte.
By your poure contynuall Oratryx,
To the Ryght Honorable, DAME ALIS MORE.
and her especyall gud Maister,
MAISTER SECRETARYE.*
" I wist a woman once,'' said Sir Thomas, writing of his
wife, "that came into a prison to visit of her charity a poor
prisoner there, who she found in a chamber, to say the truth,
meetely fair, and at leastwise it was strong enough, but
with matts of straw the prisoner had made it so warm, both
under the foot and round about the walls, that in these
things for the keeping of his health she was on his behalf
glad and well comforted.
" But among many other displeasures that for his sake she
was sorry for, she was angry that he should have the
chamber door upon him by night made fast by the gaoler,
'for by my troth/ (quoth she), 'if the door should be
shut upon me, I would ween it would stop up my breath.'
" At these words of hers, the prisoner laughed in his mind,
but he durst not laugh aloud, nor said he anything to her,
for somewhat, indeed, he stood in awe of her, for he had his
living there in much part of her charity for alms, but he
could not but laugh inwardly, while he wist well enough
she shut her own chamber door and windows too, and used
not to open them all the night, what difference then as to
the stopping of the breath whether they were shut within or
without? Thus it was,Eve supplanted and overthr ew by
* Leonard Howard's Coll. of Letters.
272 Sir Thomas More and Dr. Wilson.
her pleasant persuasions her husband, our first father Adam,
yet could not this woman anything infringe or break the
constant settled meekness and humility of this worthy man,
no one in his extremity and adversity (no more than blessed
Job's wife) could shake and overturn any part of his good
patience. And yet surely no stronger or mightier tempta-
tion in all the world is there than that which proceedeth
from the wife."*
We cannot but sympathise with the necessity and tiouble
of good Lady More, but how unfit was she to be the wife
of such a man as Sir Thomas. An anecdote, translated
from the II Moro, and which we will quote as well as we
can from memory, will show how little she could have
appreciated those brilliant qualities and that glorious
intellect which charmed all who came in his way, and
which won for him the fatal esteem of the King, and his
entrance within the Court circle. And yet a wife ought to
be the intelligent companion of her husband's leisure
hours.
" You were reading to your daughters," said one of More's
friends, " on the nature of a line, and trying to make them
understand that it consisted only of length, without breadth
or thickness, when he had done, your lady called them into
the hall, and said to them : How very clever you are,
children, where was the necessity for your father to worry
his brains for an hour to show you what a line is ; look here,
stupid children that you are, here is a line, pointing, as she
spoke, to a beam of wood that crossed the halL"
* Harleian M.SS.
273
CHAPTER XVIII.
BEFORE THE COUNCIL.
IN spite of the vigilance of his gaolers, More not unfre-
quently exchanged letters with another of his fellow pri-
soners, the Venerable Bishop Fisher. That holy prelate
was deprived of the common necessaries of life, and one of
the tricks devised by Cromwell and the council was to lead
each prisoner to think that the other had taken the oath.
On one occasion, Margaret was on her way to the council-
chamber with a petition she was about to present on her
father's behalf, when she was met by Audley, who, aware of
the cause of her being there, said to her
"Your father is much to be blamed. Fisher resembled
him, but he has become wiser, and has taken the oath."
"Are you quite sure of it, my lord?" said Margaret,
giving a spring for joy, says Fisher's biographer.
"Yes, I am quite certain ; Fisher is now with the King.
You will soon see him in liberty and in great favour."
Margaret at once hastened to her father, and exclaimed
in triumphant tones :
"Father, my Lord of Rochester has taken the oath."
"Silence, daughter," said More in accents of surprise,.
" it is not possible."
"The Lord Chancellor has just told me so."
T
274 Before the Council.
" Away, away, thou foolish one," said More ; " thou art
not used to their tricks ; but understand, if the bishop had
done so, it would be no precedent for me."
Fisher was more simple, and believed those who told
him that More had taken the oath ; but though it added to
his grief it did not shake his constancy.
''I am sorry that his courage hath failed him," said he ;
" yet should I not blame him, not being beset by the tempta-
tions of wife and children ; but anyway, it affecteth me
not, for unless I would make shipwreck of my conscience
I cannot take your oath."
The communication between the holy prelate and his
friend was, however, finally discovered, and the bishop's
servant, who had carried the letters to and fro, was closely
imprisoned, and even threatened with death. He is said to
have been a simple countryman, and asked his gaoler, with
an air of such perfect innocence and simplicity, if a new
statute had been made to hang a servant for serving his
master, that he obtained his liberty on condition that he
should be the bearer of no more letters.
More had refused to believe the story concerning Fisher
when told it by Margaret, but later he was called before the
commissioners, who repeated it to him with unblushing
deliberation. More then asked to speak, with him, and was
told he should do so as soon as he himself had taken
the oath. " Let me see his signature, my Lords," was the
next request, to which Audley replied that it had been taken
to the King.
"Then, my Lords, I will candidly tell you," said More,
"that I do not believe that my Lord of Rochester has
either subscribed his hand or taken the oath ; and if he has
Before the Council. 275
done both I can do neither." He was then taken back to his
cell.
The following letter, addressed to Margaret, bears date
Mays, 1535:
"OUR LORD BLESSE YOU, MY DEARLY BELOVED DAUGHTER.
" Doubtless you have heard that there came hither lately
the king's councillors to examine three fathers of the Charter
House, who be now judged to death for treason, whose
causes I know not. Mayhap this may put you in trouble
and fear concerning me being here prisoner, especially as it
is not unlikely you may have heard that I also was myself
before the council. So I thought it necessary to advertise
you of the truth, so that you should neither conceive more
hope than the matter giveth, lest upon another turn it might
aggrieve your heaviness ; nor more grief and fear than the
matter giveth on the other side.
" Shortly ye shall understand that on Friday, in the last
day of April, Master lieutenant came in here unto me, and
showed me that Master secretary would speak with me,
whereupon I shyfted my gown, and went out with him into
the gallery, where I met many, some known and some
unknown, in the way. And in conclusion coming into the
chamber where his mastershypp sat with Master attorney,
Master solicitor, Master Bedyll, and Master Doctor Tre-
gonnell, I was offered to sit down with them, which in no
wise I would. Master secretary then showed unto me that
he doubted not but that I had by such friends as had
resorted unto me seen the new statutes made at the sitting
of the last parliament. I answered : ' Yes, verily ; howbeit,
forasmuch as being here I have no conversation with any
people.'' I thought it little with need for me to bestow
276 Before the Council.
much time upon them, and therefore I gave back the book,
and the effect of the statutes I neither marked nor studied
to remember. Then he asked me if I had not read the
first statute, of the King being head of the Church, whereunto
I answered 'Yes.'
" Then his mastership declared unto me, that since it was
now by act of parliament ordained that his highness and his
heirs be and ever of right have been, and perpetually should
be supreme head on earth of the Church of England under
Christ, the King's pleasure was that those of his council
there assembled should demand my opinion and what my
mind was therein. Whereunto I answered that in good
faith I had well trusted that the King's highness would never
have commanded any question to be asked of me, con-
sidering that I from time to time declared my mind to his
highness, and also your mastership, Master secretary, by
mouth and by writing. And now I have in good faith
discharged my mind of all such matters, and neither will
dispute king's titles nor pope's ; but the King's true faithful
subject I am, and will be, and daily I pray for him, and all
his, and for you all that are of his honourable council, and
for all the realm, and otherwise than this I never intend to
meddle. Master secretary answered, that he thought this
manner of reply would not content nor satisfy the King's
highness, but that his grace would exact a more full answer,
and his mastership added, that the King's highness was a
prince, not of rigour but of mercy and pity ; and though he
had found obstinacy at some time in any of his subjects, yet
when he should find them at another time submit and con-
form themselves, his grace would show mercy; and that
concerning myself his highness would be glad to see me take
Before the Council. 277
such conformable ways, as I might be abroad in the world
again amongst other men, as I had been before. Whereto
I answered, I would never meddle in the world again, to
have all the world given me ; and as to the rest of the
matter I have fully determined never to meddle or study
any worldly concern, but that my whole study should be
on the passion of Christ and my own passage out of the
world.
"They then sent me away fora while, and after called me
in again, when Master secretary said : ' Though you are a
prisoner condemned to perpetual imprisonment, you are not
discharged of your obedience to the King's highness ; ' and
he asked of me whether I thought that the King's grace might
not exact of me upon like pains as other men. Whereto
said I, ' I will not maintain the contrary.' And said he :
' Even as the King's highness will be gracious to them that
be found conformable, so will his grace follow the course of
law to such as be obstinate,' adding, * your demeanour in
this matter is such as very likely makes others as stiff as they
be.' Whereto I answered, ' I give no man cause to hold
any point one way or the other, nor never gave any man
advice or counsel.' And, in conclusion, I could no further
go, whatsoever pain should come thereof. ' I am,' quoch
I, ' the King's true faithful subject and daily bedesman, and
pray for his highness and all his and all the realm ; 1 do
nobody no harm ; I say none harm, I think none harm, but
wish everybody good. And if this be not enough to keep a
man alive, in good faith I long not to live. And I am dying
already, and have since I came here been many times in the
case that I thought to die within one hour. And I thank
our Lord I was never sorry for it, but rather sorry when I
278 Before the Council.
saw the peril past, and therefore my poor body is at the
king's pleasure. Would God my death' may do him
good.'
"After this Master secretary said : * Well, ye find no fault
in that statute, find you any in any of the other statutes
after ? ' I answered : ' Sir, whatsoever thing should seem
to me other than good in that, or in any of the other
statutes, I will not declare what fault I find, nor speak of it.'
To which he said gently, that of anything I had spoken
there should be no advantage taken ; and whether he
farther said that there was none to be taken I am not well
remembered ; but he added that report should be made
unto the King's highness, and his gracious pleasure known
Whereupon I was delivered again to Master lieutenant,
which was then called in, and so was I brought again into
my chamber. And here am I yet in such case as I was,
neither better nor worse. That that shall follow lieth in the
hands of God, whom I beseech to put in the King's grace's
mind that thing that may be to His high pleasure, and in
mine to mind only the weal of my soul with little regard of
my body, and you with all yours, and my wife, and all my
children, and all our other friends, both bodily and
spiritually heartily well to fare. ' And I pray you and
them all to pray for me, and take no thought whatsoever
shall happen me, for I verily trust in the goodness of God,
seem it never so evil to this world, it shall indeed in another
world be for the best.
" Your loving Father,
" THOMAS MORE, Knight."
Before the Council. 279
Another letter, written by Sir Thomas to his daughter,
Mistress Roper :
"OUR LORD BLESSE YOU AND ALL YOURS.
" Forasmuch (dearly beloved daughter) as it is likely that
you have heard that the council were here this day, and that
I was before them, I have thought it necessary to send you
word how the matter standeth. And verily, to be short, I
perceive little difference between this time and the last,
for, as far as I can see, the whole purpose is to drive me
to say precisely one way or the other.
"Here sat my lord of Canterbury, my Lord Chancellor, my
lord of Suffolk, my lord of Wiltshire, and Master secretary.
And after my coming Master secretary told me he had
reported unto the King's highness what had been said by his
grace's council unto me, and my answers to them, which I
heartily thanked him for. Whereupon he added that the
Iving's highness was neither content nor satisfied with me,
but thought I had been the cause of much grudge in the
realm, and that I had an obstinate and an evil mind towards
him, that my duty being his subject was (and he had sent
them in his name to command me on my allegiance) to
make plain answer, did I think the statute lawful or not,
that he should be supreme head of the Church of England,
or else utter plainly my malignity.
"'I have no malignity, and so can none utter,' said I.
' And as to the answer, I can make none other than I have
made before. And very grieved I am his highness should
have such opinion of me, howbeit, T shall comfort myself
with considering that the time will come when God shall
declare my truth before his grace and all the world ; and
though haply it may seem small cause of comfort, because
2 So Before iht Council.
I must take harm here first, in the meanwhile, I thanked
God I was very sure I had no corrupt affection, looking
first upon God, then upon the King, according to the lesson
his highness taught me at my first coming to his noble
service, the most virtuous ever prince taught a servant.
The opinion he has of me now is to my great grief ; I have
no means to help it, in this matter further I could not go,
nor other answer make.'
" ' But,' said both the Lord Chancellor and Master secretary,
* the king may compel you to make a plain answer one way
or the other.' Whereto said I : ' I will not dispute the
King's authority, but verily, under correction, it seemeth to
me, if my conscience give me against the statute (wherein it
giveth me I do not say), that, I nothing doing or saying
against it, it is hard to make me say for or against, to the
peril of my soul or the destruction of my body.'
"To this said Master secretary: 'When you were in
office you examined heretics and malefactors, whether they
believed the Pope to be the head of the Church, and com-
pelled them to make a precise answer ; and why should
not the King, sith it is a law made that his Grace is head
of the Church here, compel men to answer now as they
were then compelled to answer about the Pope ?'
"'I protest,' quoth I, 'that I wish not to stand in con-
tention ; but there is this difference, that here, as through
the whole of Christendom, the power of the Pope was con-
sidered an undoubted thing, not like a thing agreed on in
this realm.' To which said Master secretary, they were
as well burned for denying that as beheaded for denying
this, and as good reason to make them answer one as the
other. ' A man is not so bound in conscience by a law
Before the Council. 281
of one realm,' said I, 'when there is a law of all Chris-
tendom to the contrary, touching a point of belief, though
there hap to be made in some place a law to the con-
trary.'
" Then they offered me an oath, by which 1 should make
true answer to such things as should be asked me on the
King's behalf.
" * Verily, I never mean to swear any book oath more, as
long as I live,' said I.
" ' Then,' said they, ' I was very obstinate, for of all
those brought to the star-chamber there are none who have
not taken a similar oath.'
" ' Very true,' said I ; ' but I can understand what your
questions will be, and as good to refuse them at first as
at last.'
" My Lord Chancellor said he thought I guessed the truth,
and I should see them. There were but two; the first
was, had I seen the statute ? the second, did I believe it
lawfully made ? At once I refused the oath, saying that
the first I had confessed to, to the second I would make
no answer.
" This was the end of my examination, and I was sent
away. Jn the former communication it was wondered at
that I should take thus much on my conscience ; whereto
I said I was very sure my conscience, informed by much
diligence, might stand with my salvation ; I meddle not
with the consciences of those who think otherwise, I am no
man's judge.
" And they also said : ' If you had as lief be out of the
world as in it, why not speak out plain ? It appears you are
not content to die, though you say so.' 'The truth is,' I
282 Before the Council.
replied, ' I have not led so holy a life as to bold enough
to offer myself for death, lest God for my temptation suffer
me to fall ; therefore I put not myself forward, but draw
back. Howbeit. if God draw me to it Himself, then trust
I in His great mercy, that He will not fail to give me grace
and strength.'
" ' 1 like you much worse to-day than I did the last time,'
said Master secretary ; ' then I pitied you, now I think
you mean not well.'
" But God and I know both that I do mean well, and so I
pray God do by me. I pray you and mine other friends be
of good cheer, whatsoever befal me. Take no thought of
me, but pray for me, as I do for you and all of them.
" Your tender loving father,
"THOMAS MORE, Knight/'
After the examination recorded above, the councillors
looked significantly at each other, and withdrew, pausing as
they left the Tower to bid Kingston exercise strict vigilance
over Sir Thomas ; the lieutenant at once understood that
there was small hope for the ex- chancellor.
This Kingston was one of those good souls who never
forget a service rendered to them. In the days of the
ex- chancellor's prosperity he had never been repulsed by
him, More always feeling pleasure at granting various
requests made to him. And now that so sad a reverse
had befallen Sir Thomas, he strove, when unse en, by every
means in his power to soften the severity of his imprison-
ment. One day he himself carried to More's cell a delicate
little dish, and complained in a whisper of bringing him no
better cheer; but, he added, " I am watched, and walls
Before the Council. 283
have eyes as well as ears. I cannot alter matters without
incurring the King's displeasure, so must beg you to accept
my good will."
"I believe you, good Kingston," answered More ; * and
I thank you most heartily for it. Assure yourself I do not
mislike my ordinary fare ; when I do, then spare not to
thrust me out of your doors/'
" And notwithstanding their new law was worse than the
former, yet was there no matter (I will not say) by right and
justice, but not so much as by their own unlawful and
unjust law, to be found in him, that their adversaries might
with any outward honest appearance have, what they sought
for, that was, his life's blood, for he neither spoke or did
any thing to bring himself within the least compass and
danger of the said law."
The usual quiet of More's prison lodging was one morn-
ing disturbed by the sound of many footsteps, and looking
through the narrow barred window of his cell, he beheld in
the court yard beneath, these same monks of the Charter
House, and Father Reynolds, of Sion, being led out of the
Tower. They were then bound, and taken to Tyburn, about
three miles from London, to be executed.
" For the withstanding of which about two months before
Sir Thos. More suffered, the Prior of the Charter House of
London, the Priors cf the Charter House of Benold and
Spain, and Father Reynolds, a singular learned divine, well
seen in the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew tongues, a virtuous
religious father of Syon, and one Mr. John Hall, vicar of
Thistleworth, were the 29th of April condemned of treason,
and executed the 4th day of May."
"Afterwards the Qth of June were there other of the said
284 Before, the Council.
Charter House of London, hanged and quartered, and eight
or nine of the said house died by reason of the closeness
and filthiness of the prison in Newgate."*
"Look, Meg," said More, to his daughter, who was with him,
" Dost thou not see those good Fathersf going to death as if
they were bridegrooms about to be married. See then, good
Margaret, what a difference there is between such as have
spent their life religiously, and such as have, like thy poor
father, spent their time in ease and pleasures. For God,
considering their long life in continued penance, will not
suffer them longer to inhabit this miserable world, but
taketh them speedily hence ; whilst thy poor father, not
worthy of so great happiness, is condemned still to
continue in this vale of wretchedness and sin ! "
This spectacle, which met the eyes of More in the pre-
sence of his daughter, only preceded his own execution by
about six weeks, most probably it was almost Margaret's
last visit, for his confinement appears to have become more
rigorous henceforth.
A few moments later Cromwell, the King's minister of evil,
entered More's cell, anxious to see the effect that the execu-
tion of the Carthusian victims might have on the prisoner,
but his countenance was radiant with joy. In the name of
the King, Cromwell remonstrated with More on the course
he was pursuing, for on this day he did not venture on
threats, and for his comfort told him that the King was still
his good and gracious Lord, and did not urge him on any
* Harleian MSS.
t These three orders of the Carthusians, Briggitins, and Observants
(Reformed Franciscans) had a repulution for the greatest regularity.
Campbell.
Before the Council. 285
matter in which he could have cause of scruple. As soon
as Master Secretary had departed, to express the kind of
comfort his words had given him, he took a piece of coal,
and wrote the following lines :
Aye, flattering fortune, look thou ne'er so fair,
Or ne'er so p'easantly begin to smile ;
As though thou would my ruin all repair,
Throughout my life thou bhalt not me beguile.
Trust I to God to enter in a while
His haven of heav'n, sure and uniform ;
Ever after calme, look I for a storm.
2 86
CHAPTER XIX.
'TWIXT EARTH AND HEAVEN.
WINTER brought with it many hardships to the aged pre-
late. Fisher had been for many months confined in the
Bell Tower, and he was now reduced to a state of destitu-
tion, in which he had not sufficient clothes to cover him,
and he was repeatedly and treacherously examined by
commissioners with regard to his private opinions relative
to the supremacy, and left almost without food to eat, some-
times supplied by More with a portion of his own ; he was
never allowed a drop of wine, his clothes were tattered and
falling to pieces, and after many supplications he at last
obtained a pen and a sheet of paper, on which he traced a
few trembling lines to Cromwell.
" Have mercy on me," writes the aged man, " I have
neither shirt, linen, nor garments, I am ashamed of my
nakedness, but I could bear with my poverty, if I could
get warmth for my body. I have not enough to eat, and
God knoweth, at my age one hath many wants, if I am
thus left in want of common necessaries, I must speedily
sink. I beseech you in the name of common charity beg
of the King to restore me his gracious bounty. I should
feel very grateful if he would take me from this cold prison.
Two favours I ask of yourself: one is to let me see a priest
to whom I may make confession for the approaching feast
'Twixt Earth and Heaven. 287
of Christmas, also that a volume of prayers be lent me ; and
may our Lord grant you a happy New Year and many of
them."
"Though both Sir Thomas More and the Bishop of
Rochester refused the oath of supremacy, both offered to
swear another oath for the succession of the Crown to the
issue of the King's present marriage, because that was in
the power of Parliament to determine, Cranmer foreseeing
well the ill effects that would follow on contending so much
with persons so highly esteemed by the world, and of such
a temper that severity would bend them to nothing, did by
an earnest letter to Cromwell, dated the 27th of April,
move that what they offered might be accepted ; for if they
once swore to the succession, it would quiet the kingdom,
for they acknowledging, all other persons would acquiesce
and submit to their judgments."*
If some of the historians are to be believed, Henry
waited awhile, hoping that a natural death would deliver
him from Fisher, but death did not seize upon him, he was
to receive the crown of martyrdom at his hands-t Clement
VII. was no more, and Paul III. had succeeded him. One
of the first thoughts of the new Pope, was to reward by a
Cardinal's hat the heroism and virtue of Fisher. Hearing
that a messenger was on the road in order to bring the
emblem of this dignity to the Bishop of Rochester, the
King forbade him to land at Dover, and then in order to
ascertain what impression the news of this favour from the
Pontiff would have on the aged Bishop, he sent Cromwell
to visit the prisoner.
* Weever Monuments, p. 504.
f Audin.
288 'Twixt Earth and Heaven.
" What would you say, my lord," said the latter, " if I
told you that the Pope is sending you the hat of a Cardinal.
Would you accept it ?"
" I should consider myself unworthy of it," replied
Fisher, "but if the Pope did such a thing, I would receive it
on my knees, with respect and gratitude."
This answer was carried back to Henry, who, enraged at
the Bishop's dauntless conduct, exclaimed
" Mother of God, he shall wear it on his shoulders then,
for I will see he hath never a head to set it on."* 1
We have already quoted from the Harleian MSS. respect-
ing the library of valuable books possessed by Fisher, all his
property had been seized by the royal tyrant, and as the
pursuivants wandered through the house, searching for
valuable property, they hit upon a chest in his chamber,
bound with iron. Fancying it contained valuable property,
they broke it open, but found that it contained only a hair-
shirt and some disciplines. It was a source of great
vexation to Fisher, who said that had he but remembered it
in the hurry of his leaving home, the contents of the chest
would never have been found.
It was hoped that the great sufferings of the bishop
would have made him lose his courage, but he remained
inflexible, and eventually Rich, the solicitor-general, was
sent to him as bearer of a message" from the King. He
entered the captive's dungeon with a smile upon his face,
saying that his Majesty desired to know the mind of so-
enlightened a prelate as to the supremacy which parliament
had recognised as an attribute of royalty. " The prince has
* Tytler.
'Twixt Earth and Heaven. 289
many scruples," added Rich, begging the prisoner to speak
out fearlessly.
The old prelate grew courageous. " More than once,"
said he, '.'have I spoken on this subject with his Majesty;
it is not now, when my days are numbered, that I can
change my former opinions. I think now, as I did formerly,
that if the King is solicitous about his salvation he will put
away this notion of spiritual supremacy."
To this remark Rich made no reply, but at once with-
drew.
Audley, under the great seal, issued a special commission
for the trial of Fisher and More, placing himself at the
head of it. As less skill was apprehended from the aged
prelate in defending himself, and there was a colouring
against him from the infamous arts of Rich, the wary
Audley began with him first, although the conviction of the
ex-chancellor was an object of far greater importance.
Scarcely able to stand at the bar of Westminster Hall from
age and weakness, he was charged with having traitorously
attempted to deprive the King of his title by maliciously
speaking these words: "The Kyng oure Soveraign Lord
is not supreme Hedd yn Erthe of the Cherche of Eng-
lande."
The only witness for the Crown was Rich, the solicitor-
general, who, though supposed not to have exceeded the
truth in stating what had passed between him and the
prisoner, covered himself with infamy, for he had the base-
ness voluntarily to swear that in a private conversation he
had held with the bishop when paying him a friendly visit
in the Tower, he heard the prelate declare that he believed
in his conscience, and by his learning he assuredly knew, that
u
2 Qo 'Twixt Earth and Heaven.
the King neither was nor by right could be supreme head
of the Church of England. He now saw the snare that had
been laid for him by Rich, and then this aged prelate, bending
beneath the infirmities of age, pleaded his own cause with-
out the aid of counsel, which could not be permitted against
the crown.
"Mr. Rich," said he, "I cannot but marvel to hear you
come and bear witness against me of these words. This
man, my lords, came to me from the King, on a secret
message as he said, with kindly words and commendations
from his grace, declaring what good opinion his Majesty
had of me, and how sorry he was for my trouble, and then
broke the matter of the supremacy, telling me the King had
sent him in the most secret way to know my opinion ; and
when I warned him the new act of parliament might en-
danger me if I said aught against its provisions, he replied
' that the King willed him to assure me, upon his honour and
on the word of a King, that whatsoever I should -say unto
him I should not abide peril for it, though my words were
ever so against the statute ; ' and the messenger gave me
his most solemn promise that he would repeat my words to
no living soul save the King alone. And therefore my lords,
seeing it pleased his Majesty to send to me thus secretly to
know my poor advice and opinion, methinks it is very hard
to allow the same as sufficient testimony against me to prove
me guilty of high treason."
Then observed Rich :
" I said to him no more, my lords, than his Majesty
commanded, and I argue, as counsel for the crown, that
assuming the statement to be true, it is no discharge in law
against his Majesty for a direct violation of the statute."
'Twixt Earth and Heaven, 291
The malicious Audley then decided, and his opinion was
shared in by the other judges, that this promise from the
King neither did nor could by rigour of law discharge him.
He had declared his mind and conscience against the
supremacy ; yea, though it were at the King's own request,
he committed treason, and nothing could save him but the
King's pardon.
"But,'* still urged the venerable prelate, "it is only
treason maliciously to deny the King's supremacy ; I cannot
surely be guilty for expressing an opinion to the King him-
self by his own order."
" Malice does not mean spite or ill-will in the vulgar
sense, but is an inference of law," replied Audley ; "if the
King's supremacy be spoken against, that speech is to be
held and understood as malicious."
" But in my case," urged the prelate, " there is but one
witness, which in treason you know is insufficient."
His objection puzzled the court; but, determined to have
the old man's blood, Audley replied, with a shameless
violation of the rule :
" This is a case in which the YJmg personally is concerned ;
the necessity for two witnesses does not hold good ; the
jury will consider the evidence, and as they believe or dis-
believe so will you be acquitted or condemned."
The bright glorious sunshine flashed across the wan and
haggard face of the venerable prelate, as he raised his
sunken eyes to the infamous Audley and the parasites who
sat beside him.
Audley had indeed so scandalously aggravated the case,
straining it to high treason, that the jury at once perceived
the verdict they must return, unless prepared to heap dan-
2 o2 *Twixt Earth and Heaven.
o-er on their own heads, which none of them cared to-
brave.
Yet in the crowded court that day were many present
whose faces were bathed in tears when they looked on that
venerable father of the Church, about to be sentenced to a
cruel death on evidence given contrary to all faith, and the
promise of the King himself.
The jury in a short time returned; they brought in a
verdict si guilty.
The aged prelate lifted his emaciated hands to heaven,
and prayed God to forgive those who persecuted him unto
death. And Audley arose, and putting on a grave and
solemn countenance, he passed sentence of death in the
revolting terms usual on such occasions, ordering that his
head and four quarters should be set up where the King
should appoint, and ending by the mockery of a prayer that
God would have mercy on his soul.
The Bishop was no longer placed in the Bell Tower, but
conveyed to a dreary dungeon beneath the fortress, wherein
he was confined till the day fixed for his execution. Early
one morning the lieutenant came to bid him prepare for his
approaching end. " One day, more or less my lord," said
he in a broken voice, " the will of his Grace is that this
morning."
" Thanks, I understand ; at what hour ? "
" At nine, my lord."
"What is the hour now?"
" Just five."
" I will then sleep two hours longer."
" The will of the King is that you should not address the
people "
'Twixt Earth and Heaven. 293
4< His Grace may rest content."
And the Bishop again fell asleep.
At seven he arose and dressed himself carefully, clothes
having been given to him, and on the rugged walls of that
fearful dungeon, within which we have reverently stood, for
it has been hallowed by the presence of the holy bishop,
he scratched these words :
" Here I put on my garments, and am led forth to be
executed."
And then he leaned him against the dungeon wall with
breviary in hand. As he left the Tower he opened a copy
of the New Testament, at the i;th chapter of S. John's
Gospel :
" Now this is life eternal, that they might know Thte the
.only trut God, and Jesus Christ, whom TIwu has sent. I
have glorified Thee on the earth : I have finished the work
which Thou gavest me to do."
At length the cart, in which he was conveyed, reached
Tyburn, and having ascended the scaffold, he turned him
to the people saying,
" I die for our holy faith, pray for me ; may God receive
my soul, and save the King and his people."
And the bright beams of the morning sun shone on the
face of the holy prelate, and clasping his hands, and raising
his eyes to heaven, he exclaimed,
" Approach unto Him and be enlightened, and your faces
shall not be confounded"
Then he sung the Te Deum Laudamus in so loud a voice
that the spectators wondered when they gazed on his
emaciated frame, and the glorious hymn of praise concluded,
.as also the Psalm In te Domine Speravi, the executioner
294 'Twixf Earth and Heaven.
bound a handkerchief about his eyes, and the holy
prelate raised his heart to heaven, for his lips were seen to
move in prayer, then laying his venerable head on the block,
he received the blow which severed it from his body at a
single stroke.
His remains were at once stripped, left exposed on the
scaffold throughout the day, and then buried with every
kind of indignity in a grave in All Hallows Church, Barking,,
the soldiers having dug it with their halberds. The head
was said to be preserved from corruption, the lips remaining
red, and the king after a time ordered it to be thrown into-
the Thames.
2 95
CHAPTER XX
LOOKING FOR THE END.
MEANWHILE the time was fast approaching which should
decide the fate of the other illustrious captive, whom the
King was so vindictively pursuing if until now, Margaret
and her father had counted on the latter being contented
with the incarceration of his victim, the fate of the venerable
prelate, eminent as he was in learning and virtue, must have
assured them that there was scant ground for hope that
imprisonment alone would content the ruthless Henry.
Never was he left long at rest. Soon came to his cell
Mr. Rich, Sir Richard Southwell, and one Palmer, deputed
by the King to take away all his books.
Whilst Southwell made up in a parcel the books and
manuscripts, Rich took Sir Thomas aside and led him
towards the window of his prison, signing to his companions
to pay attention to whatever the prisoner might say.
But Southwell and Palmer, touched with pity, did not
care to listen, they looked with compassion on the bent
form of the venerable prisoner, and turned away as if
intent on their work.
A few indifferent words passed, and a smile played on the
countenance of Rich as he meditated his address to the
unfortunate prisoner.
296 Looking for the End.
" Truly, Sir Thomas More," said he, after a silence of
several minutes, " I marvel at you. I know you are a man
both wise and learned ; you are a great lawyer, a profound
logician. I pray you, sir, let me be so bold as to put a
question to you. Suppose an act of parliament were made,
that all the realm should take me for king, would not you
take me for King also ? "
" Yes, truly," said More.
" Marry," said Eich, with an air of frankness, " I put the
question further. Suppose there was an act of parliament
to take me for Pope, would not you then take me for Pope 1 "
" That is quite another thing," said More; "the parliament
has power to meddle with the state of temporal princes.
But before replying to your second question I ask you,
supposing parliament should make a law that God should
not be God, would you then, Mr. Rich, give it your
assent ? "
*' No, Sir Thomas," replied Rich indignantly; " no par-
liament could make such a law." Rich added a sequel.
" No more could the parliament make the King supreme
head of the Church," was the answer which Rich gave as
the reply of More, and upon it he was afterwards indicted
of high treason.
And his beloved books, the solace of the dreary hours of
his captivity, were all removed ; then he closed his windows,
saying with an irrepressible touch of his old humour,
" When all the tools and wares are gone, the shop windows
may be shut up."
Then he sharpened pieces of coal, which he found in the
grate, and he wrote on the wall of his cell, the following
sentences from the Psalms :
Looking for the End. 297
" Who will give me wings like a dove, that I may fly
away and take my rest."
" In peace, in the selfsame, I will sleep and I will rest."
" Taste, and see how sweet is the Lord."
There is something most pathetic in the fact that during
his dreary imprisonment, which began in April, 1534, he,
commencing his " Treatise on the Passion of Christ," con-
tinued it down to the words, " And they layde hands upon
Him, and hdd Him!' for says the old biographer, " Sir
Thomas More wrote no more of this work, for when he had
written thus farre, he was in prison kept so straighte, that
all his bookes and pennes and ynke and paper were taken
from him, and soon after was he put to death/'
The following letter from Margaret to her father, alluding
to his close imprisonment, shows that after the visit of Rich,
he was now confined more rigorously than had previously
been the case :
" My own most entirely beloved Father, I can never
give you sufficient thanks for the inestimable comfort my
poor heart received in the reading your most loving and
godly letter, representing to me the dazzling brightness of
your soul, that pure temple of the Holy Spirit of God,
which I doubt not will perpetually dwell in you and you in
Him. Father, if all the world had been given me, as I
hope to be saved, it would have been a trifling pleasure in
comparison of the joy I received at the treasure of your
letter, which, though written with a coal, is worthy of being
written in letters of gold. Father dear, what moved them
to shut you up again, we can nothing hear. Truly, I
conjecture that when they found your mind so well
tempered, that you were contented to abide there all your
298 Looking for the End.
life with such liberty as you already had, they thought it
was never possible to bend you to their will, except it were
by restraining you from the Church, and the society of my
good mother, your dear wyfe, and your poor children, and
bedesfolk. But, father, this chance was not strange to you
for I need not remind you how you told us when we
were with you in the garden, that these things were like
enough to chance you later. Father, I have often repeated
to my own comfort, and that of others, your demeanour and
the words you said to us when we were last with you, for
which I trust, by God's grace, to be the better while I live,
and when I am departed out of this perishable life, which I
pray God I may pass, and end in true obedience and
service to Him, after the wholesome counsel and faithful
example of holy living I have had (good father) of you,
which T pray God give me grace to follow, which I shall the
better ensure through the aid of your devout prayers, as a
special support to my frailty.
" Father, I am sorry I have just now no longer leisure to
talk with you, the chief comfort of my life, I trust to have
occasion to write again shortly. I hope I have your daily
prayers and blessing.
" Your most loving obedient daughter and bedeswoman,
Margaret Roper, which daily and hourly is bounden to pray
for you, for whom she prayeth in this wise, that Our Lord
of His infinite mercy, give you of His heavenly comfort, and
so to assist you with His special grace that ye never in
anything decline from His blessed will, but live and die
His true obedient servant. Amen.
The reply to this letter is as follows :
Lookin
