TUDOR IDEALS BY LEWIS EINSTEIN AUTHOR OF " THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE IN ENGLAND," ETC. m NEW YORK HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY 1921 COPYRIGHT, 192 1, BY HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC. AUG 26 1921 0)C!.A622535 TO H. E. SEVEREST AND MOST INDULGENT OF CRITICS J t:> PREFACE An early book by the writer on the Italian Renaissance in England had been intended as a partial introduction to a future history of English Sixteenth Century Ideals. But a diplomatic career spent mainly in distant parts, had interfered with its pursuit, and the shadow of a great war has been little conducive to the concentration re- quired for such a study. Like those architects who with vast plans in mind rear only a small wing of their edifice, the writer has been obliged to restrict his scope and his material till no one is more conscious than he of its frag- mentary and imperfect nature. In attempting to reduce into words the multiple activ- ities of a nation, it is no easy task to weigh their rel- ative importance or to feel convinced that one's individ- ual sense of perspective is either the correct or the only one. Historical perceptions are largely personal. One searches fixed points from which to measure distances. But such measurements at best are incomplete, and often other deductions might be drawn from the same range of facts. Especially, when the search is for ideals rather than for a chronological sequence, and the goal is the inner spirit of a nation at a rich moment of its evolu- tion, the method utilized, which aims to find the ex- pression of ideas in letters, and in acts, must be haphazard and the result elusive. It is easy to discolour history by over-blackening its shadows. It is as easy to bring out its drabness by re- ducing all to one dull plane. This study is only an incom- plete essay which se'eks to discover if under the vast maze of facts, can be found the rational beginnings of a structure of life in Sixteenth Century England. vi PREFACE If, as a fragmentary work it is now published, it is because of the hope that an interest in ideals, and not in events, in currents of opinion, and not in annals, may, perhaps, stimulate a closer inquiry into a period embrac- ing the formative elements in the life of all English- speaking nations. It has still another aim to justify the apology for its appearance. Dimly conscious as we are of the significance of currents which are now carrying us forward, it is im- possible not to realize that the great war has marked the end of an epoch, and that we stand to-day at the threshold of a new era toward which we are both groping and drift- ing. Still unshaped in its revelation, we can discern enough to feel the decay of an old world structure crum- bling on its foundations and dragging down in its ruins many of the adornments and amenities of life. We are entering into a new age still in its rough-hewn aspect, ushered in amid violence and disorder as was the period we are leaving behind. The Renaissance also, came only after the disintegration of medieval society had left feudalism, no longer possessed of inherent vitality and unable to prevent an anarchy out of which the new world was born. In this sense our era presents a curious resemblance to the age which forms the subject of this study. Its setting is different, its direction is opposite, but in many respects it is not unlike. We, too, are on the eve of great events. If we are wise in the measure of our force we will study our traditions the better to guide future hopes. CONTENTS Page Preface v INTRODUCTION The Spirit of the Sixteenth Century. Importance of the Prince. Tendencies of the Age xi PART I. THE CROWN I. The Sanction of Power 3 Transformation of royalty. Illegitimacy in succession. Title rests on power. Renaissance theory of the prince. II. The Theory of Majesty 11 New power of the Crown. The prince above the law. Servility before the. king. Divine Right. III. The Royal Authority 20 The Crown represents order. The evolution of the State. The prince's personality. Royal supremacy. ^^ IV. The Prince and His Subjects 26 Facility of approach. Ceremonial occasions and pageantry. The feeling of power. Elizabeth's love of popularity. — V. The Court 37 Importance of the Court in the State. The scramble for riches. The art of pleasing. Miseries of court life. VI. The Training for Authority 47 The Tudor education. The purpose of culture. Incongruous choice of officials. Preparation for State service. - VII. Office and Corruption 56 Disorder in Government. The prince's favour. Explanation of corruption. Official honesty. VIII. Political Morality 63 Crime in the 15th Century. Assassination and morals. Eliza- beth's hypocrisy. IX. The Idea of the State 76 Slight importance of theory in England. Rational basis of state- craft. Edward the Sixth's ideas. Classical origin of political •-» philosophy. X. Public Opinion 84 Apathy of opinion. Henry VIII's efforts to conciliate opinion. Early use of the press. Growing interest in pubHc questions. vii viii CONTENTS Page XI. The Spirit of Revolt 94 Opposition to the Crown. Motives for rebellion. The Coup d'Etat. Apology for revolution. PART II. THE INDIVIDUAL I. The New Individualism 103 Collapse of the medieval structure. The Tudor Monarchy and the individual. Excess of individualism. II. The Growth of Personality 109 Circumstances and life. Liberation of the individual. III. The Vicissitudes of Fortune 115 The adventurer. The rise and fall of men. The reaction to danger. IV. Violence in Private Life 121 Survivals of lawlessness. Crime in the drama. V. The Evolution of Woman 124 Contemporary opinion misleading. Upper classes respond to the new learning. The evolution of feminine ideals. VI. The Shuffling of Classes 131 Disintegration of the old order. Class distinctions and hatred. The compromise of English life. VII. Traditional Survivals 140 Political expediency of tradition. Gradual transformation of life. Deliberate reversions to the Middle Ages. VIII. The Social Fabric 150 Influence of the Crown on the social structure. Reconstruction of society. The new conservatism. IX. The TiIeory of Aristocracy 157 Divergence between theory and practice. Ethical considerations. Influence of antiquity. Ideal of nobiUty. X. The Preparation for Life 163 Cultivated personality in the 15th Century. Physical training. Gilbert's Academy. XI. The Art of War 168 Military structure of Medieval Society. Use of mercenaries. Standards of professional honor. Influence of war in English life. PART III. IDEALS OF LIFE AND THOUGHT I. Ideals in English Life 177 The reflection of life on ideals. Growth of new ideals. CONTENTS ix Page II. Democratic Tendencies i8i The discovery of the lower classes. Religious foundation for democratic ideas. Puritans and Democracy. III. Patriotism as an Ideal 187 The Medieval ideal of patriotism. Growth of nationalism in the Renaissance. English Catholics and divided allegiance. Exal- tation of the National Spirit. IV. Religion in the State 197 Medieval .inheritance in religion. Spirit of martyrdom. Atti- tude of the Catholics. Political aspects of religion. V. Tolerance and Persecution 211 Early tolerance. Popularity of persecution. Elizabeth's views on conformity. VI. Puritanism 220 Puritan beginnings. Puritanism and Democracy. VII. Free Thought 225 Doubt in the Middle Ages. Queen Elizabeth's French marriage and religion. Diffusion of free thought. VIII. Pacifism and War 230 Relation of the age to ideals. Savagery of warfare. English desire for humanity. IX. • The Feeling of Compassion 234 Benevolent institutions. Edward VI's charitable interests. X. Morality ' 240 Church morals. Morality at court. XL The Family 244 Love and the growth of personal freedom. Free choice in respect to marriage. PART IV. THE ENRICHMENT OF LIFE I. The Modern Spirit 255 Consciousness of the age. Pride in achievement. Intellectual curiosity. II. The Idea of Fame 259 Moderate interest in glory. Literary aspects of immortality. Monuments to the dead. III. Death 262 Classical influence. Courage on the scaffold. IV. The Feeling for Nature .' 265 Nature and the inner life. External observation. V. The Pleasures of the Country 267 Enjoyment of the country. Social importance of the land. X CONTENTS Page VI. The Desire for Beauty 271 Portraiture. Inability to appreciate Italian art. The English aesthetic sense. VII. Philosophical Ideas in Life 277 Classical influences. Small originaHty of renaissance philosophy, superstition. VIII. England and the Sea 286 The discovery of America due to the Renaissance. British backwardness in navigation. Consciousness of England's destiny as a seapower. Popular interest in maritime enter- prise. IX. Nationalism 299 Hatred of foreign influence. Nationalism in Ireland. Scottish literary nationalism. The wells of English. X. Internationalism 310 Scholarly aspects of internationalism. Imperialism. French influence in England. XI. Classicism and the Universities 316 The Revelation of the Renaissance. Growth of English human- ism. Nationalism and the respect for antiquity. XII. The Diffusion of Education 325 Extension of popular knowledge. The cultivation of the illiterate. XIII. The Discovery of Letters 332 Renaissance expression in literature. Letters and public opinion. National quality of literature. XIV. The Cultivation of Life 336 Cultivated public men. The well-rounded personality. Notes 341 Index 359 INTRODUCTION No age is ever stationary, and to label an era like the Sixteenth Century an epoch of transition, is to get no closer to the truth. It is more correct to say that the current of change flows swifter at certain periods than at others. Bacon wisely described time as the greatest of innovators yet failed to notice the varying nature of its rhythm. Broadly speaking, the Sixteenth Century and the Tudor Dynasty coincided with a period of rapid change. Both began amid the decay of ancient forces and both ended amid the advent of new elements around which were to be built the foundations of modern England. Dur- ing the interval something within men had changed. It is not easy to lay one's finger on what this was, for the spirit of an age hovers elusive like the fairies in "Midsummer Night's Dream." The beginning of the century had seen the country recovering from internal dissension, still imbued with the relics of a decaying me- dievalism, and much inferior to other states of Western Europe in resources and in civilization. At its end Eng- land ranked second to none, with an altered perspective gazing beyond the seas, and a fresh dignity and prestige. The seeds of British greatness had been sown between these times. What occurred to bring about this change? Was it due to the wisdom of sovereigns and statesmen, or to great currents like the Reformation, with its middle course steered between Rome and Geneva.? Is it to be found in the daring of English mariners ? Were there deeper causes, or did the accidents of personality and the trend of events weightier than men, act and react upon each other to bring about such results? xii INTRODUCTION Facts are warrens in which historians burrow not always successfully. Whoever is dissatisfied with the mere chron- icle of events must grope, often haphazardly, before he can probe into the spirit of an age. Inward processes which sway decisions or make great changes are ill accounted for, while evolution often works through silent and devious channels. Though outward circumstances and corre- sponding reactions are visible, there is always the unseen to reckon with. English evolution under the Tudors found its lawful expression through the prince, for events gravitated more than ever before or since, round his person. Directly or indirectly occurrences were few which lacked such sug- gestion. At no other time has the British nation swayed more readily in response to its rulers. /-Never again have conditions arisen where these could assert themselves so masterfully. Royalty underwent its own evolution in the Sixteenth Century. In the beginning, more than the symbol of the state, it was the state. The court drew to itself the best energies of the nation. It was the channel for its ability and the outlet for its taste. The country, so to speak, discovered itself through the prince. The indi- vidual who rose by his own merits and not by interpret- ing group consciousness, was obliged to conform to this general structure and had to shape his own ambi- tion by favouring that of his ruler. But the strength of the system was also its weakness. Where authority was individual the disappearance of the person weakened the state. Henry VIII could bequeath the crown to his son, he could not transmit to him the vigour of his own char- acter. In spite of the prince's enhanced power the enormous significance of the age lay in marking the birth of the individual as a personality and not merely as the tool of an organization, religious or civil. The real meaning of the Renaissance was in the new elements then brought INTRODUCTION xiii into life, externally and internally, by adoption and by evolution. Something fresh had altered existence. The discovery of the world offered a goal to adventurers of the body. The discovery of antiquity to adventurers of the mind. The unity of the state provided a conscious background of strength after the Civil Wars. Later the Protestant cause and the Spanish peril elated patriotism and the sense of nationality, making crown and people feel that together they had braved danger and together had accomplished great deeds. The Renaissance in England became apparent in no gradual orderly progression. Its first appearance was confined to court and university, hardly penetrating be- yond their fringe. Amid the struggles of the Reformation its growth remained inconspicuous and stunted. If strong rule preserved the land from civil war, the social upheaval with its double tale of fresh wealth and fresh misery, long kept down the finer assertions of the spirit. The English practical mind which understood facts rather than ideas, embraced neither Renaissance nor Ref- ormation, wholeheartedly. Neither attained the headway on British soil which the one had achieved in Italy, the other in Germany. Yet familiarity with both and the stimulus of new forces, brought out the nation's richer per- sonality. In the departure from conservatism and inertia, always the strongest element in tradition, a new national- ism, cosmopolitanism, and Puritanism, acted and reacted on each other. The cosmopolitanism which influenced the feeling of nationality, was that of universal culture, and the spark between the two produced the explosion of Elizabethan genius. FART I THE CROWN I. THE SANCTION OF POWER The Wars of the Roses left conditions in England plas- tic enough to receive the impress of any domination irrespective of its origin. Years of violence predispose men to accept accomplished facts by diminishing the prestige of legal claims which can no longer be enforced. Chaos favors the rise of strong personality. The horror of anarchy makes welcome the sole ability to preserve order; hence the royal power shaped itself to meet actual conditions. Kingship, to survive the storms it encoun- tered, became the most practical of institutions, resting its title primarily on the ability to seize and maintain authority. Afterward, years of serenity were to evolve other ideas which relied on an acquired prestige and sought sanc- tions still undreamed of. In the latter part of the 15th Century such glamour was almost unknown, and the road to royalty became the first step along which the individ- ual asserted his personality. He was able to do this because the rigid medieval structure had broken down and amid its ruins men instinctively were groping toward a new order. The lifeless feudal fabric was pre- pared to receive the impress of a fresher vitality. Before the Stuarts gave rigidity to the English state, a looser conception had prevailed with regard to the foundations of power. This allowed the proscribed grandson of a Welsh squire without legal sanction to seize the crown of England, and made it possible for his son to raise the royal prerogative to a pinnacle never since equalled. The first Tudor, so little of an adventurer in character, until he reached the .throne had been rendered one by 4 TUDOR IDEALS circumstance. Richard Ill's proclamation against Henry- Tudor, signalled the humbleness of his early origin and the double illegitimacy of his claim. The nation was left undisturbed by the knowledge that his grandfather had been butler to a bishop, and all the royal blood in his veins flowed from illicit connections. In England, as in Italy, the long continued disorder made the test of royalty lie in the individual's ability to seize power. Never did monarchical ideas show less rigidity than at the close of the Middle Ages. At Bosworth Field Henry VII, as Bacon aptly puts it, was " in a kind of military election of recognition saluted King," discerning in this a Roman imperial re- minder unnoticed by the main actors. The dawn of a new era which was to elevate the crown to heights unknown, coincided with that of a dynasty whose founder assumed the regal power on the battlefield and who like Napoleon picked up the sceptre in the dust. Henry VII 's author- ity was won by the sword. When after his victory he en- tered London, he did so, again in Bacon's words, "as one that having been sometimes an enemy to the whole state and a proscribed person, chose rather to keep state and strike a reverence into the people than to fawn upon them." His first act was to offer his standards at St. Paul's, not meaning his subjects to forget that he came in by battle. He laid no stress on doubtful hereditary rights though bundling these along with other claims. His mar- riage to Elizabeth of York would have allowed him to assert more legal titles, but he preferred to avoid even the appearance of owing the crown to his wife. Only after confirmation by Parliament and his coronation, would he consent to marry the heiress of the Yorkist cause. The order he achieved made men soon forget the dis- order of his origin, for his enemies were ready to employ worse expedients. No greater travesty of royalty can be found than Edward IV's sister Duchess Margaret of Bur- THE SANCTION OF POWER 5 gundy, recognizing as her nephew and rightful claim- ant to the English throne Perkin Warbeck, whom she must have known to be an imposter. Her hatred for one usurper, made her under guise of legitimacy, give sanction and support to another far greater. The nation had traversed too violent a crisis to care. Public opinion was still unformed, and the principles of order in the state insufficiently grounded for any claim to seem anomalous when accompanied by force. Judged by these principles no one had a sounder right to reign than the first Tudor who laid the foundations of modern Eng- land. He realized the precarious nature of his authority too vividly not to seek to make easier his heir's succes- sion. To confirm his dynasty, still resting on an insecure basis, Henry VII in accordance with the maxims of per- sonal rule, sought matrimonial alliance with Spain. Fer- dinand of Aragon, careless of Tudor origin, was mindful of Tudor stability, and exacted as condition the death of the innocent Warwick whose blood sealed Katherine's marriage to Prince Henry. Neither by foreign princes nor by his own people was any higher sanction sought than the King's ability to maintain his dynasty on the throne. An Italian who travelled in England in 1500, remarked that if the succession was at all in dispute, the question was settled by recourse to arms.*^ There were many who believed, in spite of the stability of Henry VII's rule, that at his death the Duke of Buckingham or Edmond de la Pole might seek the throne. The possibility of claimants appearing with as good a right as the Tudors always existed, and Henry VIII's cruel persecution of any possible pretenders, at the time when he seemed most firmly seated, came from this ap- prehension, and showed that in his own mind, at least, he never felt entirely secure. Beyond this loomed another peril. Thomas Cromwell when in Parliament had opposed the war with France on * All references will be found at the end of the book. 6 TUDOR IDEALS the ground of danger to the royal person. If the King were killed, civil war would be likely to ensue. Disorder through doubt of succession remained a spectre for all the Tudors, and apologists have found herein the defence for Henry VIII's matrimonial experiences. The nation, haunted by its memories of civil war, gave the most indul- gent support to the extravagant assertions of royal authority. The City of London extended its hearty wel- come to the royal mistress, and Nicholas Udal, head- master of Eton, composed verses for Anne Boleyn, where with more truth than his servile mind could foresee, he looked forward to her issue to guard England and the faith from danger. ^ The nation's fears centred on anarchy brought about by uncertainty in the transmission of the crown, acqui- esced in the preservation of order by the most disorderly means. When other hopes to secure a regular inheritance failed. Parliament gave the King power to bequeath the crown by will and promised allegiance to his illegiti- mate succession. Henry had made all his plans to declare heir his natural son the Duke of Richmond, and of marrying him to his half-sister Mary. The looseness of such ideas was not peculiar to Eng- land but rather to an age of unsettled sanctions whose social structure was itself in rapid transformation. Where power was the goal other considerations became of slight consequence. In Scotland the future Earl of Murray, borrowing the argument from Knox that kingly authority emanated from virtue and not from birth, in order to press his own claim tried to induce Mary Stuart to ap- point as her successor one of the royal blood irrespec- tive of his legitimacy. 3 At a time when everything conspired to magnify the power of the crown its origin had become a matter almost of indifference. If legal right could be altered to fit circumstance, the reverse also held true. Henry VIII felt no hesitation in having his two daughters declared illegitimate by one THE SANCTION OF POWER 7 Parliament, while a later one without reinstating the two princesses to their lawful birth, yet placed both in the or- der of royal succession. The legal position of the sisters so curiously different passed through the same vicissitudes. Edward VI in his "Device for the Succession," did not even mention them, though in the final settlement, their title after being recited was declared inadequate, on the triple ground of illegitimacy, half blood to the king, and likeli- hood of marrying a stranger born out of the realm.* But royal authority perished with its personal existence and Edward VI could bind his succession as little as his father had been able to do. Though almost any excess was tolerated on the part of the sovereign during his life, natural laws reasserted them- selves on his decease. Popular approval which had al- ways to be sought between two reigns then favoured the rightful claimant, as Northumberland realized when he tried to replace a Tudor by a Dudley dynasty. Yet a princess less strong-willed than Mary might not have successfully asserted her rights; while one possessed of less duplicity than Elizabeth, could in the early un- stable years of her reign, have aroused an opposition which might have deprived her of life and crown. Both, aided by circumstance and natural right, needed ability to grasp the royal sceptre. In the early years of her reign Elizabeth's sanction rested on insecure ground. As the majority of the na- tion was still catholic, the issue of Anne Boleyn could not be lawful to most Englishmen. Behind the friendly overtures from Philip and the Pope, on her accession, lay the covert threat that she could reign only with their support. With rare deceit she kept Rome and Spain in expectant suspense until she felt herself on firm ground. Jesuits might dispute her title, and Cardinal Allen many years later still taunted her with her birth,^ but their aspersions only added to her popularity. She herself when Queen, perhaps to avoid raking up 8 TUDOR IDEALS old controversies, took no steps to clear her mother's memory, though she had the order of royal succes- sion changed from "lawful" to "natural" issue on the ground of the former being insulting to her. Leicester's enemies imputed this to his intrigues, in order to assert in case of the Queen's death that one of his illegitimate children was hers.^ Characteristic of a period of strong personal rule, was the idea running through the age that the primary sanction of power came less from blood or hereditary right, than from its exercise. Royalty had to justify itself, and its source was secondary before the accom- plished fact. Although Elizabeth might seem to have given new stability to the crown, it could still be main- tained that "the sword hath always been better than half the title to get, establish or maintain a kingdom. " ^ The Jesuit Robert Parsons, author of "A Conference about the Next Succession," written toward the end of the Virgin Queen's reign, declared — "whatsoever a prince's title be, if once he be settled in the Crown and admitted by the Commonwealth, every man is bound to settle his conscience to obey the same in all that lawfully he may command and this without examination of his title." Ordinary rules could not be applied to princes' titles. Ties of blood though of great importance in them- selves, did not bind the Commonwealth, if weightier reasons existed. The only essentials to reign were fitness and the ability to fulfil duty.^ Such was the Renaissance theory of the prince who rested the sanction of his power, not on divine law or birth, though ready to invoke both, but on his own strength and popular approval, expressed in England by Parliament. Nor can better proof be given of the prince's personal opinion of the sacredness of royalty than Henry the Eighth's execution of two queens. This spirit is met with in the Elizabethan Drama. Marlowe's Tamburlaine by sheer force of will plans to THE SANCTION OF POWER 9 master the world. He makes no secret of his own hum- ble origin, "I am a lord for so my deeds shall prove And yet a shepherd by my parentage." I Tamb. I, II, 34. When he bids his younger son be brave he tells him "If thou exceed thy elder brothers' worth And shine in complete virtue more than they Thou shall be king before them." II Tamb. I, III, 49. In this was expressed the political idea of the age, whether represented by Henry VII or by Tamburlaine. Hereditary right was secondary to forceful ability. The best title to a throne lay in the strength to seize it and to wield the royal power. Some have read in Marlowe the influence of Machievelli's ideas. The Florentine was highly appreciated in England, but it is superfluous to call on his influence to explain such incentives. Rea- sons which then stirred the hearts of men needed no phi- losophy for their genesis. Frank admiration for success irrespective of means\ to attain it is characteristic of every period in rapid \ transition, where former standards unable to meet the strain imposed upon them bend and break. Shake- speare expressed this in the "Two Gentlemen of Verona.' * When Valentine banished from Milan turns outlaw and captures the Duke who had exiled him, the latter, by no means incensed, admires his daring. "I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine, and think thee worthy of an Em- press' love." The immense prestige acquired by the Crown in the Sixteenth Century, seems at first but little compatible with this view. The body of doctrine and of ceremony then evolved to enhance the glamour of kingship, by attributing to it a divine authority, appears in contra- lo TUDOR IDEALS diction with the realism underlying the conception of the royal power. In reality it confirms this idea. The dignity of the crown arose not from its origin but from its exer- cise. It rested not on an invisible lineage, but on a visi- ble authority. The two views ran parallel courses, and no conflict between them could arise. The Tudors, ac- cepting the homage of divine right, trusted only in the reality of their power. The illegitimacy attending Tudor origins, the perplex- ities of Tudor marriages, and the difficulties of Tudor successions, were among the causes which later contrib- uted to increasing the power of the people. A dynasty with equal authority but with clearer title and heirs, might have concerned itself less with seeking parliamen- tary approval. Henry VII demanded the confirmation of his title from Parliament. Henry VIII, notorious tyrant though he was, often showed it almost deferential respect. A monarch so imperious as Elizabeth, yielded to it on occasion with the good grace of her political sagacity. Although popular power was unripened, the lesson was not lost. In spite of disturbances and oc- casional revolts, no nation has ever proved more sub- missive nor more loyal than was England to the Tudors. They were obeyed willingly because they represented the strong rule that was wanted and not because of their lineage or blood right to mount the throne. II. THE THEORY OF MAJESTY In Fifteenth Century England, when the power of the crown sank to its lowest ebb, the spectacle of royal dignity was little enhanced by the succession of English monarchs rebelled against, dethroned and murdered. Where the king commanded so little respect, those of his blood were often left devoid of any remnant of pres- tige. Philip de Comines recalled members of the House of Lancaster poorer than beggars in the street and had seen the Duke of Exeter, brother-in-law of Edward IV, trailing barefooted and nameless in the train of the Duke of Burgundy.^ Before the Renaissance, a king even when he possessed strong personality, was hardly more than an exalted noble whose authority remained strictly limited by feudal and church rights. A family of obscure origin in two generations, raised the crown as an institu- tion to a height hitherto unknown. Circumstance and theory alike helped to persuade the Tudor prince of his omnipotence. The conception of Roman law entering with the new ideas and welcomed by those in authority, placed all power in the prince's hands and from him derived all power. The classical influence with its point of view so advantageous to the crown, assured Renaissance learning a welcome at court. With these views the conception of centralized monarchy grew to novel dimensions and the person and power of the prince expanded with their new importance. What brought about this sudden elevation in the royal power? The answer is not to be found either in Roman law whose introduction had been unsuccessfully at- tempted in the Fifteenth Century, or in the Tudor abil- 12 TUDOR IDEALS ity to create such an ideal of kingship. The cause lay- rather in the combination of two separate circumstances neither sufficient in itself but whose coincidence ef- fected the result. The first was in the immense expan- sion of life which came as the result of a quickened vi- tality before new opportunity, and raised England from an isolated provincial state to the dignity of a great power. The second arose from the fact that in this new state in process of rapid evolution, with novel horizons lying before the individual, the various ave- nues of energy were still in their rudimentary beginning. The church whose power was soon to be humbled, was almost the only institution presenting a tradition of venerable continuity. All other public services or paths of distinction, parliament, army, navy, diplo- macy, all, save perhaps the bench with its varying vicissitudes, were in the making during the Sixteenth Century, and for the most part without the rigidity or prestige of an established organization. Men rushed, so to speak, into a void and carved out careers which for better or worse had not yet been moulded by the impress of fixed tradition. Personality grew as individ- uals moved into wider orbits. During the interval, be- fore conditions had simmered down to shape themselves into the novel structure, the idea of kingship reaped advantage from such chaos and in the beginning became its main beneficiary. In an unsettled and rapidly shifting age an accepted institution which represents force, law, and order, always offers a rallying point. The Tudors, moreover, seized the crown while England was emerging from the Mid- dle Ages, and were able to establish themselves without being obliged to encounter the pressure of movements still unborn which were later to act as limitations to the royal power. The opposition they met with was easily overridden, and for one brief period in English history, the prince felt himself virtually without re- THE THEORY OF MAJESTY 13 striction able to follow the inclinations of his personal will. While years had still to elapse before the country- was able to disentangle the chaos caused by its own over rapid expansion, no such restriction weighed on the prince whose instruments of authority already created, gave him a clear start. During that interval the crown became the centre of all power. Without having to snatch this from others it merely stepped into the open gap and unquestioned and unchallenged, assumed bound- less rights and prerogatives. The king arrived, so to speak, first on the field, and those who found him there not only accepted his title without demur but helped to enhance his authority. Amid such circumstances the Tudor theory of majesty was born. Learned men, and men of law subservient as always to established authority, defended the prac- tice, exalted the power of the prince, and placed him on a pinnacle which, save in oriental lands, had never been attained since the days of imperial Rome. The Tudors only repeated what the Caesars had done and England, like Rome, remained well-nigh indifferent to the sanction of the title save as it rested on fact. It magnified the power of the prince and placed him above the law. "From the prince as from a perpetual wellspring, cometh among the people the flood of all that is good or evil," ^ wrote Sir Thomas More, the most independent mind of his age, and the one furthest removed from the spirit of flattery. Such ideas had hardly been noticeable in the founder of the dynasty. Henry VII, modern in his political real- ism, remained curiously medieval in form, and purposely preferred his outward garb to be still enmeshed in the fabric of the past. Perhaps to conceal the force of his innovations and make his changes as imperceptible as possible, the first Tudor sought to attach himself to the past rather than to appear as a reformer. Henry VIII mounting the throne felt none of his father's hesitations. 14 TUDOR IDEALS In addition to the assurance which youth, popularity, and inherited power gave him, he was also the benefi- ciary of circumstance, able to take advantage of the new position of England restored by his father, and the new power of kingship raised high by the spirit of the age. Everything conspired to enhance his prestige and au- thority. A fresh pomp and ceremonial was devised to fit new circumstances, and the outward forms of dig- nity altered to meet these novel conditions. The early designation of the king as "Your Grace" was replaced by the more exalted title of "Your Majesty" to which "Sacred" was soon to be added. Despite the boast that unlike continentals. English- men were not slaves, a new spirit of servility previously unknown grew up around the king. The royal dignity had risen so suddenly to so unparalleled a height, that all sense of proportion was lost sight of by courtiers eager to prove their submissive obedience. At a time when other standards which might have served as correctives against such pliability had been crushed into decay, veneration for the crown alone survived and, from highest to lowest, all flattered the king. In the words of a French Ambassador he became a "statue for idola- try,"^ while adulation was so universal as hardly to ex- cite comment. The extravagance characteristic of the age showed its worst side in the degradation of character this led to. The king himself in the pride of his position, lost all feeling for the ordinary decencies of life, and celebrated the news of Katherine of Aragon's death by attending a court dance. His conduct after the execution of Anne Boleyh was no less revolting. He felt himself above the law, unable to do wrong. His kingdom was his property, entire and absolute. He provided for his own death by conferring the goverment of England on the executors of his will and making a trust of the realm. Foreigners marvelled at the servile deference of the THE THEORY OF MAJESTY 15 church dignitaries in his presence.^ The royal princesses knelt before their father in accordance with an etiquette which prescribed that no one must speak to the Prince "but in adoration and kneeling. "^ Later, Queen Elizabeth expected all at court to fall on their knees before her.^ Beyond the throne a halo fell on those near the royal person. Typical of this are the circumstances attending the arrest of Wolsey. The Cardinal had refused to sub- mit himself to the Earl of Northumberland who came for such purpose, but did so at once to Master Walsh on the ground, though the latter was without warrant, that he belonged to the king's privy chamber, remarking that "the worst person there is a sufficient warrant to arrest the greatest peer of this realm by the king's only commandment without any commission. " ^ In this spirit Marlowe makes Edward the Second rebuke the unruly nobles who had taunted Gaveston. "Were he a peasant, being my minion I'll make the proudest of you stoop to him." Edw. II, I, IV. 30. It was likely enough the idea of the omnipotence of royalty, far more than any medieval tradition of laxity in such matters, that allowed a monarch so imperious as Henry VIII to marry outside the royal circle. While the French and English Courts had been shocked by his sister wedding a man "low-born" like the Duke of Suffolk and the king took from her the plate and jewels given her on her first alliance Henry VIII 's practice in marrying women with no personal prestige, was that of Byzantine Emperors and oriental despots, too exalted for the lineage of a consort not to be a matter of indifference. The prince was higher than the law and as such could do what he willed.^ More cautious than her father yet quite as impe- riously minded Elizabeth restrained her own affections i6 TUDOR IDEALS though she told Castelnau that if Leicester had been of royal birth she would have married him.^ Where different circumstances brought about the exaltation of the Throne it was not surprising, that an age which blefnded politics with religion should have sought in divine right the highest sanction for royalty. The origin of this idea was probably an adaptation from antiquity. A monarch with such exalted convictions of his prerogative as Henry VIII naturally seized on a theory congenial to his own inclinations. Though able on occasion to parade sound constitutional doctrine, his acts refer to the "Kingly power given him by God."^" Earlier opinions inherited from scholastic pliilosophy of kingship resting on popular approval were forgotten. The forceful Tudor absolutism was no congenial soil for such ideas. The dogma of the subjects' obedience by Godly injunction was well implanted, and the belief in the divine nature of royal authority passed into the stock ideas of the age. Elizabeth began the manifesto pub- lished to explain the motives of giving aid to the people of the Low Countries, by stating that kings and princes were not bound to "render the reason for their actions to any other but to God."" The same question came up in a more practical form with the trial of Mary Stuart. Elizabeth's reluctance to order the execution, was caused far more by her wish not to invalidate the divine right than by any feeling of commiseration. The argument brought up that outside his own domains a king was but a private person unable to exercise royal powers, and that it was impossible for Mary and her son to reign at the same time, made the execution feasible, without invalidating the sanction ot the Virgin Queen's rule. A body of legal opinion grew up during the Sixteenth Century to support the most extravagant pretensions of royalty. The prince was described as divinely ordained to be shepherd of his people and the image of God in his THE THEORY OF MAJESTY 17 realm. ^2 a French jurist Belloy, much read in England, maintained that although the heir to the throne might be a lunatic or a degenerate yet "he must be sacred and holy with us and admitted without contradiction to his inherit- ance which God and nature hath laid upon him."^^ Not only did divine law require subjects to obey their prince/^ Richard Crompton, a bencher of the Inner Temple, went so far as to declare that since kings were ordained to gov- ern, subjects must submit to all their ordinances though these should be against the word of God.^^ It is only fitting to say that not all took such extreme views. In Scotland where the royal authority was weaker, the political ideas of thinkers like William Major and Buchanan were akin to the theory of elective monarchy. Thomas More's resistance to such pretensions remains an English glory and Hugh Latimer preached an obedience which did not transgress the divine law.^^ Brynklow took a similar view. Stubbes in spite of his Puritan conscience, sustained a more submissive opinion. In his belief, although a prince enacted laws against God yet the sub- ject ought not to rebel but submit life and lands to the royal will as otherwise he resisted the divine command. ^^ Anglican divines steered, as usual, the middle course, Thomas Cooper maintaining that although a Christian prince cannot forbid what God commands, yet that the Deity remained indifferent to many things where the prince's rights were above dispute.^^ Men of letters took without question, the political ideas current around them and gave these poetical shape. The theory of divine right encountered no hesitations among them. Bishop Bale could say — "In his own realm a King is judge over all By God's appointment and none may judge him again But the Lord himself; in this the Scripture is plain He that condemneth a King, condemneth God without doubt." King John, Edit. Cam. Soc. P. 90. i8 TUDOR IDEALS Such views were especially congenial to the poets, who with the extravagant expression characteristic of the age tried to represent the king as above mortal considera- tions. The prince stood so high above the law that even crime lost with him its reprehensible character. With arguments which may have borne in mind Henry VIII, Greene makes the villain Ateukin urge James IV to murder his wife on the ground that "It is no murder in a king To end another's life to save his own For you are not as common people be Who die and perish with a few men's tears But if you fail the state doth whole default The realm is rent in twain.^^" Writers for courtly circles like Lyly professed to regard the actions of royalty as being only of divine concern. 2" Even a bohemian like Marlowe causes Dido to reply to the suggestion that her wish to make iEneas sovereign might not be well received. "Shall vulgar peasants storm at what I do The ground is mine that gives them sustenance The air wherein they breathe, the water, fire All that they have, their lands, their goods, their lives." Dido, IV, IV, 71, sq.. Like his contemporaries, Shakespeare expressed the idea of the sacredness of royalty without giving reason to suppose that it was foreign to his own political convictions. He accepted it, in the same way as he accepted other current beliefs and prejudices of his age. In the "Winter's Tale" Camillo refuses to strike the anointed king. In "Hamlet" the king says to Laertes "there's such divinity doth hedge a king," and MacDuff cries in horror when he learns of Duncan's murder THE THEORY OF MAJESTY 19 "Most sacreligious murder hath broke up The Lord's anointed temple." The theories evolved to magnify the royal power, and the extravagant praise showered on the prince were manifestations of the patriotic loyalty of the age which incarnated the nation in its sovereign. The spirit of passionate devotion which Queen Elizabeth inspired, called for effusions which similar in tone are not to be mistaken for mere flattery. The prince was regarded as the nation's image and when Peele likens the Queen's beauty to Venus and addresses her as Juno's peer and Minerva's mate^^ he symbolized in her the might of England. Spenser's lavish praise was hardly less ori- ental.* Even the critical Puttenham was unabashed to declare that the queen easily surpassed all earlier or later poets.22 The theory of majesty received its highest expression in the Sixteenth Century. Jurists and poets united to express the divine nature of royalty and invest it with a glamour which in England has never since been attained. Freedom from restraint and the absence of what later became known as good taste, gave rein to the magnificent extrav- agances of the time. In word and spirit the highest was given the highest due, and the age remained the richer for such worship. The pedigree of the ideas which led Charles I to the scaffold, can be traced to the theory of majesty expressed in Tudor England. * Admiral Togo's message to the Mikado ascribing his victory of Tshushima to the imperial virtues would have been well understood in Tudor England. III. THE ROYAL AUTHORITY Beneath its Gothic surface, the England which emerged from the Wars of the Roses passed through an evolution so silent at first as to mislead men into the belief that little had changed. During the civil wars, municipal life had been able to pursue its own development. At a time when the feudal nobles were destroying each other a new com- mercial class was arising. To this class who sought security for their possessions, Henry VII's ideas of stable centralized government appealed and its rise coincided with that of the new dynasty. It had been the deliberate policy of the first Tudor to make his reign appear as the continuation of Lancastrian rule. Some historians have therefore seen in it the end of the Middle Ages rather than the birth of modern England. But its medievalism was a husk. Only superficially did Henry VII conform himself to the practice of the past. His far reaching ideas of statecraft inconspicuously were laying the foundations of the new centralized state in which the Crown became the rallying point for instincts of order which are inherent to man. While the nation passed through its difficult transfor- mation, the power of the Crown alone stood out as the barrier which kept the country from anarchy. A sceptre may be weakly grasped by a prince whose right to it is unchallenged, but this becomes impossible for one who is his own ancestor. By its very nature the rule of the first Tudor had to be strong in order to justify its usurpation. But beyond fiscal exactions the king interfered little in the lives of his subjects. His rule so personal in its origin, became impersonal in its display of authority. The rec- ords of the age are scanty, but there is nothing to sug- THE ROYAL AUTHORITY 21 gest in them the wilfulness of his son. Toward his own subjects, contact remained distant and detached, exercised through a bureaucratic machinery. His great revolution was the introduction of order into England. Power, he collected in the same way as his treasure and transmitted both in legacy to his son. The characteristics of Tudor Monarchy became fixed in the direct rule of the prince through his appointed dele- gates and in the equality of all subjects before the law. The conception of the Crown was one of state omnipotence centred in the person of the prince. Royal authority being too exalted to admit of distinctions beneath it, the imme- diate effect of absolutism tended toward what would to-day be styled as democratic. The benefits of this were most noticeable where the prince became impersonal and when his own caprices did not direct his action. Even the tyranny of Henry VIII set in motion a machinery acting on all alike, ordering the Council of the North to grant justice to the poorest man against the greatest lord. In this sense the Tudors open the door toward our own times in the evolution of the modern state. The excess of instruments of authority which Henry VIII found on his accession created a unique situation in English history. Theory and practice having together raised the kingly power to its most exalted pinnacle, circumstance endowed it with a wealth of means hitherto unknown. During the silent years of preparation the material growth of England had accompanied that of the throne. The new feeling of security provided a fresh link between prince and people. The latter still unaccustomed to the novelty of order, and the privilege of peaceful existence, welcomed the assump- tion of powers which had rendered this possible. The growth of the Crown in its authority coincided with that of the country in its wealth. Whatever touched the king touched England, and prince and subject became related as they have never been before or since. The most inti- 22 TUDOR IDEALS mate circumstances of royal life were thus directly asso- ciated with vast movements extending through the land and moulding the course of its history. The reactions of personal rule are met with in the re- sponse to the forces of the age, of those who lived in the prince's close proximity. Henry VIII, far more than he realized, was the tool of circumstance. The vicissitudes of his matrimonial experiences also represented the strug- gle of different factions around him. The religious currents traversing the Sixteenth Century which stirred many to sacrifice, were utilized at Court as instruments for selfish ambition and became still more personal, when enmeshed in the whims of a king's fancy they effected a reform which changed the destiny of England. Great events depend on the coincidence of causes. If certain of these seem fortui- tous, deeper currents not always visible are associated by their reactions upon them. The peculiarity of the Sixteenth Century lay in the per- son of the prince being the pivot of both accident and de- sign, the connecting link between the great forces of the age and their chance expression. The irony of history is nowhere more ostentatious than in its absurd association of the most intimate proclivities of the prince as the nec- essary channel for accomplishing a religious revolution. In the situation which allowed a poor creature like Nan Boleyn to be the playball of fortune, and to influence by herself and through her daughter, the whole course of English history, lay the essential novelty of the time. Through the prince's personality, was reflected the struggle of great forces into which were woven some of the noblest and basest elements in mankind. Amid the medley of circumstances that ensued, anyone in accord- ance with his angle of vision or prejudice, can read almost any interpretation into the character of the king, and fit the traits of his nature to suit almost any theory. One thing only is impossible, and that is, to dissociate the reactions of the sovereign's private life from that of his THE ROYAL AUTHORITY 23 subjects, or fail to recognize the influence exercised thereby on English history. When the first Tudor had picked up the crown in the dust of the battlefield his native piety reinforced by policy made him the readier to respect an ancient established institution like the church. Had circumstances been otherwise it is inconceivable for a nature so cautious as that of Henry VII to have risked a breach with Rome. But it is no less inconceivable for his son to have done so without the inheritance of authority he had received from his father. If the rupture with the Pope was thus, in a sense, accidental, its occurrence was only rendered possible by an expansion of instruments of power such as had previously been non-existent. Power breeds power and the incentive lay in providing a direct means for increasing this. It is unlikely that the break was solely due to the king's wish to marry Anne Boleyn and find an heir, or that the possibility of expanding to the utmost his own au- thority through this alliance did not suggest itself. The divorce, however desirable, provided a tangible reason for the elevation of the Crown. The opportunities of kingly power became influenced by a constructive design. The nation at first cherished no marked wish for the king to assert his supremacy in the Church. England as a whole was a religious country, but its feeling was instinctive and traditional rather than conscious. It was ready to acquiesce in whatever the king did so long as he represented authority and men's immediate interests were not affected by his changes. The Country if not indifferent, was still largely inarticulate in its mode of expression, and lacked the organization or leadership to centralize any opposition beyond isolated movements which remained sporadic and easily sup- pressed. Where later these grew up they were provincial and local, weighted with the odium of foreign inspiration. The royal power thus benefited by the weakness of its enemies as well as by its own design. To the nation the 24 TUDOR IDEALS machinery of the Crown represented a strong conscious force handicapped by no restrictions and standing for stabihty and order. The national unity was centred in the throne and when Henry VIII boasted that he was king, pope and emperor in his own domains, he counted with reason on the submissive obedience of his subjects. Incarnating the state, the king arrogated the right to control its belief. Assuming the power of the papacy he took over the determination of his subjects* convictions and could declare that the Bible was only to be read "as the prince and the policy of the realm shall think conven- ient so to be tolerated." The roles were now reversed. Instead of the Church encroaching on secular matters the prince directed the creed. A new conception of the Crown evolved by circumstance but deriving its example from pagan Rome, now regulated the lives of British Christians. The Venetian Ambassador Michele could report to his state that the example and authority of the sovereign was all powerful with the English, and that religion was valued as inculcating the duty due to the prince. His subjects believed as he believed. They would be as zealous fol- lowers of the Mohammedan or Jewish faith if the king professed either or commanded them to do so.^ The spirit of religious intolerance which prevailed was paradoxically due to this sudden irruption of secular authority. With its newly assumed powers the Crown was ambitious to extirpate the last roots of ecclesiastical independence and prove that it could perform spiritual functions no less well than the Church whose easy indul- gence dating from the early days of the Renaissance had now to yield before a harsher practice. Revolt and tyr- anny went hand-in-glove. Churchmen were regarded as subjects of the Crown taking out commissions like other officers and religion became merely one side of the State. The frequent shifts of men like Gardiner, Paget and Cecil cannot be laid down solely to indifference, fear or ambition. THE ROYAL AUTHORITY 25 but were due to belief as well — sincere belief in the royal supremacy to decide questions of faith. The Sixteenth Century Englishman was not laxer in his creed because of such compliance. Religious observance was universal and far from perfunctory. It was a duty toward the State. Elizabeth exacted it and continued her father's policy of regarding churchmen as mere officers of the Crown, writing in famous words to the Bishop of Ely "By God I will unfrock you." Bishops themselves defended such ideas. The break from Rome after the disorder of reform under Edward VI, and the brief Catho- lic revival, led to the reconstruction of the Church edifice under royal authority. The apologists of the new Anglican church were conscientiously imbued with these ideas. Royal authority commanded even in religion.^ By such reasoning men felt no misgiving in changing their ritual with their sovereign. In matters of faith the Sixteenth Century presents the odd paradox of the greatest suppleness contrasted with a fervour of faith and a spirit of martyrdom. But the ideas of the martyrs had been moulded by convictions born in other ages. Those most typical of the life of their time followed the prince in ready compliance to his wishes. IV. THE PRINCE AND HIS SUBJECTS Once the royal power had been fully acknowledged, the prince's relations with his subjects were simple enough and except on ceremonial occasions quite unrestrained. Henry VII was, by inclination, the most aloof of monarchs whose* pale and careworn features are hardly more remote to-day than they were to most of his contemporaries. Yet an anonymous Italian traveller relates that twice he dined at court with between six and seven hundred persons.^ The Italian was almost certainly without personal importance but found nothing strange in attending royal banquets. Such popular access was not the least significant feature of life around the throne. At a time when the kingly office reached its highest pinnacle there was no difficulty for any subject to secure access at least to the outer reaches of royalty. When Ralph Hythloday fresh from Utopia is advised to go to "some king's court" and relate his story to the prince, such possibility was not merely Utopian. The hierarchy around the throne had not yet assumed rigidity and vestiges of former disorder, handed down from a more primitive age, could still be found in the free- dom of relations prevailing. Katherine of Aragon counted her husband's linen. The expansion of the royal power had been so sudden that there was no time to evolve the infinite gradations of rank or those barriers of ceremony which at lesser moments mark the ingenuity of small minds. Moreover the close intimacy of prince and people was favoured as a matter of policy. A dynasty like the Tudor, new on the throne, and without the loyalty or in- timacy derived from long hereditary association, would naturally seek to draw its popularity from the people. Imbued as was Henry VIII with the sense of his own 26 THE PRINCE AND HIS SUBJECTS 27 grandeur, he made no artificial attempt to separate him- self from his subjects. An easy familiarity marked his intercourse. When the Princess Mary was still a baby in arms, he would himself carry her into the Presence Chamber and show her to the courtiers and foreign envoys. No one could be more affable when he chose and few pictures are more pleasing than that of the young King walking arm in arm with Thomas More in his Chelsea garden. Nor was such easy intercourse peculiar to the Tudors. In Scotland the frequent peregrinations of the court from one small town to another, drew king and subjects together and made court incidents a matter of common knowledge.^ In England numerous, festivities provided occasion for bringing the populace into close contact with royalty. The humblest were freely admitted to witness the revelries, and when on one famous occasion at Richmond, the crowd broke up the pageant and stripped courtiers and king almost to the skin, the latter in spite of his imperious pride treated the matter jocosely. In restricting the vision of the past to undue utilitarian- ism one neglects aspects of life which without purpose in any ultimate sense withal demand their satisfaction. By an ancient convention greatness needs its outward sign, and in all ages the love of pomp has created a setting to gratify this sense and make it coincide with the instinct of pleasure. Since the early Middle Ages the taste for pageantry offered occasion for the mighty to indulge their own fondness for display and provide at the same time for the amusement of those below them. When the value of the individual is depressed into the social unit in which he is classed, his importance derives from this more than from his personal merit, with the result that greater significance is attached to ceremonial occasions. Festivities therefore assumed a value out of all proportion to their inherent nature. At court they impressed and amused the people and created a link not without its 28 TUDOR IDEALS purpose in binding together by a common interest different classes of the population. How is it otherwise possible to explain the fact that, during the reign of a prince so fond of his privacy as Henry VII so much attention should have been paid to spectacles and festivities. Already, Duke Humphrey of Gloucester had used his duties as Great Chamberlain to organize pageants whose splendour impressed the imagination of the early chronic- lers. In the reign of Henry VIII the pages of Hall and Cavendish are filled far more with descriptions of pag- eantry than with political events. It seemed appropriate for the lives of the great to be taken up by magnificent pleasures. The English people found more interest in such spectacles than in the dull acts of Parliament. Where old traditions are not of a nature to threaten any policy or interest within the state, they survive freely amid the new and acquire fresh vigour in accordance with the taste of the day. The men who boldly broke down whatever blocked the path of their ambition, were keen to preserve ancient amusements and usages when these did not affect their personal interests. Rulers enlarged the festive occasions of life, utilizing these in order to create an atmosphere of grandeur around their own acts. New ideas did not affect the outward circumstances of existence. The wish for the grandiose was generalized, while to add personal incentive, elaborate ceremonial festivities were organized by obscure officials and artisans whose impor- tance and profit was tied up with such occasions. One is apt to forget the pressure of numerous hangers-on and tradesmen whose opportunity for gain came through instilling these tastes. The magnificence of Henry VIII was seen to best ad- vantage in his entertainments or those arranged for him by his Cardinal Minister. When on one occasion Wolsey received the king he came with a dozen of his suite dis- guised as shepherds for whom a banquet was spread "in so gorgeous a sort and costly manner that it was a pleasure THE PRINCE AND HIS SUBJECTS 29 to behold."^ The art and learning of the age were enlisted to gratify such tastes. Flemish and Italian artisans lent their skill, while scholarship left its stamp on the pag- eantry. All classes of the population could take part as actors or spectators on great festive occasions. When Queen Eliza- beth made her triumphal entry into London the houses along the route were bedecked with arras, carpets and silks. Cheapside was bright with cloth of gold and silver, and velvet of all colors, while all the crafts stood in their livery from St. Michael to Aldgate. By these spectacles a personal contact was established between court and people. After such a ceremony, every Londoner could feel that at one moment of his life he had been near to his sovereign. The queen herself welcomed these occasions and the many "progresses" of her reign were perhaps undertaken as much from motives of policy as to indulge her personal taste for display. Royal journeys brought about a wide and familiar diffusion of knowledge regarding the ceremonies attending the presence of Majesty. Renaissance learning became associated in the popular mind with the organization of court festivities, and spread a pseudo-classical knowledge over the land. When Queen Elizabeth was received in a provincial town Hke Norwich, in the procession welcoming her, were those who took the part of pagan divinities and recited verses to her in Latin and in Greek.^ Such ceremonies were the invariable accompaniment of a royal visit. When the Queen made her "progress" through Suffolk and Norfolk, everywhere nymphs and fairies addressed her in the worst classical style.^ In "Edward II," Marlowe could describe the pleasures of the prince: "Music and poetry are his delight Therefore I'll have Italian masques by night Sweet speeches, comedies and pleasing shows.** 30 TUDOR IDEALS The pomp, the learning, the craftsmanship of the age, united in a result which seems to our modern view trivial but which even in a utilitarian sense possessed social and educational value. The joiners in "Midsummer's Night's Dream" had less schooling than modern workmen, but they were alive to a realm of fancy which exists no more. The blending of all classes in common diversions was to have its effect as a civilizing influence by raising the mass, teaching it to appreciate other values, and keeping alive those bonds of sympathy which united the different elements of one nation. Such occasions favoured the ideas of the Renaissance spreading through the land till they became known to the farmer's boy who grew to man- hood in a village on the Avon. Apart from jealousy of their own prerogatives, both Henry VIII and Elizabeth were in closer human contact with their subjects than any monarch before or since on the British throne. In one sense this helped to compen- sate for the scant authority of representative institutions. Among the reasons which contributed to the exaltation of the royal power was the identification of the nation with its princes. England found itself represented in the person of its sovereign far better than by the lawyers and country squires often unwillingly sitting in Parliament. The qualities which the people discovered in their ruler, his love of sport and his exuberant boisterousness were of a nature to endear him to all classes. Though the growth of the State rendered personal contact more difficult than it had been in days when a king administered justice under a tree, there were survivals of such earlier relations, if only at the Easter Ceremonies when beggars' feet were washed. Theoretically, at least, the prince stood in permanent relation to his subjects as the corrector of injustice, "to see that there be no unpreaching prelates in his realm, nor bribing judges, to see to all estates, to provide for the poor, to see victuals good cheap. "^ And a popular writer of the time could say that the " King is anointed to be a defence THE PRINCE AND HIS SUBJECTS 31 unto the people that they be not oppressed nor over- yoked."^ In the early years of his reign, Henry VIII had felt heav- ily the sense of obligation of his duties. He expressed surprise when he heard of Francis I's popularity remark- ing that the French had little reason to love a monarch who plunged them at once into war. But the settled habit of his own power and the growth of his worst in- stincts soon rid him of such solicitude. He could after- ward tell Marillac, the French Ambassador, that he had a miserable people to govern whom he would speedily so impoverish that they would not dare to raise their heads against him. His idea of England was that of a vast estate where he felt able to do as he liked. Although his popu- larity waned with his growing tyranny, the royal authority remained unbroken to the end. The evolution toward equality perhaps originated more than is commonly suspected through the State being regarded as the personal preserve of the Crown. This conviction, common to the Tudors, was less peculiar to them than to the age of which they were the instruments. Edward VI, boy though he was, entertained the same idea of power, and Mary Tudor though more human and far more respectable than either her father or her sister, shared the same feelings of authority in her wish to bestow England on her Spanish husband. How much longer the nation would have tolerated such ideas must remain a moot question. Ready enough to accept abuses of royal authority at home, the people with instinctive nationalism, were far less submissive before the risk of foreign dom- ination, and the unpopular Spanish policy undoubtedly roused public opinion to its danger. England was undergoing such rapid changes that the relations between Crown and people were unsettled. But Mary's early death prevented difficulties coming to a head, and Elizabeth from her accession proved astute enough, when shaping her course, to avoid the clash between oppos- 32 TUDOR IDEALS ing ideas and thereby delay the struggle till another reign. More cautious than her father, the insecurity of her early experiences made her set out deliberately to win her people's affections. With this in view, she took part in May Games and Morris dances. Sir Christopher Hatton described her as fishing for men's souls. She possessed the political sagacity allowing her under all circumstances to make appeal to their love. Her greatness came, in being the first modern ruler to grasp the fact that the lower was the level of authority the more solid became its base. No prince was ever so great a courtier of her people.^ Writing to Philip II who claimed her gratitude for the Crown she replied that she owed this only to her subjects. In her speech to the army at Tilbury when Spanish invasion threatened she declared that she had always placed her chief strength in their loyalty and good will, and in one of her last addresses before Parliament she exclaimed, "Though God hath raised me high yet this I account the glory of my crown that I have reigned with your loves.^ " No one dared openly to say so, yet not a few resented this quest for popularity. The Queen's rule was little relished by many of the English nobility, ^° but innumer- able broadsides hawked through the streets remote from the flattery of the court,^^ attest the depth of affection she inspired in her people. John Stubbes when his right hand had been cut off for having petitioned against the royal marriage raised his hat with his left and shouted " God Save the Queen ! " Elizabeth instilled in her subjects' hearts real affection along with a feeling of chivalry which was her due as a woman. Yet neither her character nor that of her father was typically English. Royalty is apt to develop char- acteristics of its own, but it would be a gross slander on the English nation to discern representative British traits in the egregious vanity, duplicity, and ruthlessness, common to both monarchs. Their characters were more peculiar to THE PRINCE AND HIS SUBJECTS 33 the Tudor family, to the age and to circumstance, than to the land over which they ruled. It could not well be other-' wise. Elizabeth's real nationalism came out, in striving for the greatness of her kingdom which she did in the full measure of her statesmanship. Her representative nature found expression in the fact that all her interests were identified with its welfare. She herself was as little typic- ally English as Napoleon was French. Her tastes, her af- fections, her ambitions, were blended with the kingdom over which she ruled so wisely. But her personal character was peculiar to herself and to the necessities of her position. If Elizabeth was shrewd enough to guess the strength of the rising tide and flatter the people into loyalty to her rule, if she could answer on occasion, that it was the prince's duty to hold the highest in equal right with the lowest, and that she was as much queen of the one as of the other,^^ she was at heart far more conservative in her respect for social divisions than her father had ever shown himself. With the spirit of Tory democracy, she displayed a tendency to support the ancient nobility and it was regarded as a sign of the times that she never bestowed her favour on a mere new man.^^ After the disorder brought about by Henry VIII's revo- lutionary changes, a new fabric of stability was growing up in England on broader foundations than the old, yet mindful of those traditions which invariably accompany the rise of any propertied class. Elizabeth felt herself to be the leader of this class whose success following the elevation of her family to the throne, embraced the most active minds in the nation. Its members, with several genera- tions behind them, had already adjusted themselves to the dignities of their newly acquired rank. In her speech to the Lords on her accession, she drew attention to their various origins in order to claim loyalty on different grounds. The ancient nobility had been able to inherit their estates in security, while the others possessed the experience of ofBce given them by her father. ^^ 34 TUDOR IDEALS Such distinctions, still true at the beginning of her reign were rapidly to diminish in importance. In the famous scene between Cecil and Essex, the former prefaced his remarks by stating that he was inferior in nobility, but his implied superiority in other respects was significant of the relative value attached to blood. As a caste, the nobles had become a decorative feature of the Court and could henceforth safely be employed in the task of government without danger to the royal authority. Where Elizabeth showed herself to be the true daughter of her father, was amid circumstances not immediately under the public eye. With her ministers she was arrogant and haughty, continually reminding them that she had been deep in affairs of state since the cradle. ^^ The aim of her policy was more moderate than theirs, as when they preceded her in realizing the inevitable struggle with Spain. In dealing with problems and not men, she had always been inclined to caution and compromise. It was when she felt herself on firm ground that her native arrogance and love of authority were displayed without restraint. She had confidence in her own judgment on such occasions, "as though our long experience in government had not yet taught us to discover what were fit for us to do in matters of our state." ^^ The power of the queen lay in the ability to impress her personality on everyone. Fortified by experience and the prestige of success, she felt able to trace her own line of conduct without regard to advice, and to stand out, if need be, against all her ministers. When their policy in helping the Low Countries was at variance with her own, when even Walsingham could write that he found her "daily more unapt to embrace any matter of weight" ^"^ she would sharply tell her envoy. Sir Thomas Heneage, to do as he was bid and refused to be bound by what he had told the Dutch about her. She wrote in her own hand, "We princes be wary enough of our bargains, think you I will be bound by your speech to THE PRINCE AND HIS SUBJECTS 35 make no peace for mine own matters without their con- sent." 18 No more than her father, could she forgive any attempt on the part of a subject to assert his independence. Lei- cester, despatched by her to the Low Countries, was offered practically sovereign powers by the United Provinces in the hope of binding the Queen to their cause. For a time, it seemed as if her favour sufficed to confer a Crown. Leicester's ambitious vanity may well have fondled this hope, which Cecil, Walsingham, and Davison all approved. But the queen was deeply offended by his accepting a dignity which appeared to detract from her own authority. The gossip at court that Lady Leicester was going over to join her husband with a far greater train and pomp than her own, fanned such flames. ^^ She rebuked her favourite with the reminder that she had raised him out of the dust and said sharply to Sir Thomas Sherley who had tried to pacify her — "You know my mind. I may not endure that any man shall alter my commission and the authority that I gave him upon his own fancies and without me." ^° Leicester humbly demeaned himself by the most ful- some flattery that no kingdom in the world could make amends for her displeasure, and regained her favour. A nature less pliable like that of Essex protested with more independence than judgment, that he would never serve as a servant after the queen had boxed his ears for turning his back upon her. He was soon to break his wings against the iron determination of his royal mistress who sent him to the scaffold and counselled Henry IV of France to use a "mild severity" and cut off heads in time. With reason the queen could call herself an old fox and remind James of Scotland that she could penetrate through his intrigues.^i The extraordinary mixture of foolish foible and high statesmanship displayed by Elizabeth, is best explained by the reactions of her rule proving most beneficial as they increased in distance from the royal person. As 36 TUDOR IDEALS Queen of England, no sovereign saw with loftier view, and few have overcome greater difficulties. As a woman, none could be more treacherous, niggardly, and absurd. Only a few years before her death, the French Ambassador de Maisse, describes his reception by her, clad in a dress of silver and scarlet gauze with open sleeves lined with red taffetas and small sleeves hanging to the ground. He noticed that the front of her dress was cut open very far down yet she would open it still farther. Beneath her reddish wig hung bangles and pearls. Her neck was wrinkled, her teeth yellow and of uneven length, with many missing which made it hard to understand her when she spoke quickly. But in conversation he found her simple and gracious, though still expecting compliments.^^ Such was the woman in whose reign were laid the founda- tions of modern England's greatness. V. THE COURT The importance of the court grew with the new power of the Crown. In a government so personal as that of the Tudors, whoever sought advancement in public life was drawn to the court. Like in oriental States, nearness to the prince far more than office, conferred power, and a lustre all the brighter because in an age when ambition ran high, other avenues of distinction were non-existent or restricted. The shadow of royal authority falling on whoever came into contact with the prince, made the court assume far greater impor- tance than before, when the power of the Crown had been limited, or afterward, when that of other institu- tions had increased. Where the life of the nation was not anchored to ordinary pursuits, instead of trickling through innumerable channels, it was centred around the person of the king. The royal lead made itself felt far more widely than in statecraft or in manners. In the early part of the Sixteenth Century, perhaps, for the only time in English history the Crown assumed the intellectual and spiritual direction of the country. It served yet another purpose. The court was a threshold where foreigners were welcome without run- ning counter to the insular prejudice which elsewhere was prone to reject whatever had not been cast in a British mould. The King was fond of foreign ideas and fashions for their own sake, and inclined by taste and policy to foreigners, who, solely keen to please him, offered no menace to his rule. The court performed in this a useful function as a national vestibule, where novelties from abroad could be weighed and sifted in an intermediate stage to test their adaptability to assume British denizenship. 37 38 TUDOR IDEALS Under Henry VII, the court had remained as In- conspicuous as the royal power permitted. The first Tudor concerned only with the business of state showed himself averse to the display of its pomp. His body- guard had been created, both as a matter of personal security and an instrument of executive policy copied from the French example. At his table he kept up medieval traditions of hospitality, but he was personally indifferent to those spectacular devices so dear to the Renaissance which were soon to be utilized for im- pressing the imagination with the magnificence of roy- alty. His own tastes were too simple to employ the arts as a setting to majesty. In the external display of his authority Henry VII continued former practices, as far as he could, partly by inclination, partly, perhaps, the better to disguise the novelty of his own reign. The importance of his court was incommensurate with that of the Crown and bore no relation to the expanded power of royalty. A nation in the rapid evolution of growth, marshals its forces with uneven speed. The pressure of creative strength is never uniform through the country and the ratio of progress varies, in accordance with the dis- tance from the focal points of power. The Crown at the most vigorous moment of its growth, could not long leave neglected its own immediate surroundings, and it was certain that an effort would soon be made to bring these into line, with the expansion of the rest of its authority. In the midst of the new growths brought in by the Renaissance, at times forming part of these and often oddly blended, lingered numerous survivals of ancient traditions showing the essential continuity of English life. Often the same individual, as if to add to the confusion, betrayed contradictory tendencies in his char- acter. Lord Surrey, for instance, apart from the modernity of his poetic innovations, remained in his medieval sense of birth privilege, an anachronism from an older age. THE COURT 39 The court of Henry VIII was a curious mixture of men and fashions, intensely alive yet still imperfectly fused and embracing all the discrepancies of its varying origins. The king brought to its organization his own enormous vitality and love of display. With Eastern ideas of the equality of all subjects in the dust beneath him, with the tastes of the Renaissance for arts and letters, he welcomed everyone — musicians, painters and theologians. To the creation of his court he added the accompaniments of splendour characteristic of the age. By its luxury and pomp as well as by its proximity to the prince, it became the centre of national activity. The magnificence of English courtly surroundings impressed foreign observers, and the Papal Legate Chieregati writing in 15 17 to Isabella d'Este, could say admiringly that "the wealth and civi- lization of the world are here. "^ Partly by taste, partly by policy, the prince favoured whatever conduced to such splendour, reviving medieval diversions like the tourna- ment at the same time as he favoured Renaissance learn- ing and art. The spectacular sides of the court were only one side in an activity which governed the life of the nation. Henry VIII might find his boon companion in Sufiblk, but for his counsellors he looked to Wolsey and Cromwell. The court thus embraced two distinct elements — the one ornamental, the other practical, which separated in their extremes, tended to blend together especially in those minor ofiices where the need for ability receded before more decorative requirements. Both sides converged in the person of the prince, and represented the different aspects of his life. Both depended entirely on him. As government was personal, the degree of favour could daily be gauged by the consideration enjoyed close to the throne. The crowd of sycophants turned against whoever lost the royal favour. The first sign of Cromwell's disgrace was when on his way to the Council Chamber no one stooped to pick up his hat which the wind had blown off. The 40 TUDOR IDEALS Duke of Norfolk jested at the trial of his niece Katherine Howard, while her own brother acted as if nothing amiss had occurred.^ Amid such circumstances the absolute power of the prince to dispose of his subjects' lives and fortunes conduced to the development of the courtiers' talents. The monarch's character became an object of intense study, and the ability to please proved the most valuable of gifts. The struggle was keen, and certain arts of success the practice of which was current have now disappeared from esteem if not from life. The fickleness of princes and the mutability of their sympathies, their periods of suspicion and hatred, of clem- ency and severity were carefully studied and royal psychol- ogy was as anxiously discussed at Hampton Court as in the golden palace at Byzantium. Bacon, as full of shrewd observation as devoid of character, remarks that princes, because they are at the top of human desire, are best interpreted by their nature and private persons by their ends. And he advised Essex to treat the queen with obse- quiousness, to avoid military fame certain to arouse um- brage, and to take up projects which could then be aban- doned seemingly in deference to her wishes. He was urged to imitate her favourites Hatton and Leicester in his habits, apparel and gestures.^ Although himself the most unruly of courtiers Essex felt till the last that his entire horizon was bounded by the royal pleasure. The memory of Empson, and Dudley, of Wolsey, and Cromwell, was still too fresh for men not to live in appre- hension of the prince's purpose. After Essex's first alter- cation with the Queen, it was remarked that princes were rarely reconciled to those they had offended. One had to guess if a favourite's eclipse, was temporary as with Leicester, or permanent, and it took skilful steering to know if the wiser course lay in joining the wolves who de- voured their victim or in reserving friendship for the fallen. The spirit of loyalty, so intense among the people, became less fervid as soon as one approached the throne. THE COURT 41 Those brought into close contact with the prince who suffered from his whims became more critical than the multitude whose loyalty was preserved by distance. An independence of judgment little in line with the common- places of adulation was often met with at Court. Open expressions are rare, but Lord Warwick writing to Leices- ter then in temporary disgrace, advised him to distrust the Queen's oath. Her friendship was not to be relied on while "her malice is great and unquenchable." Nowhere was franker speech heard than in the intimacy of cour- tiers. A remark made by Essex that the Queen was no less crooked in mind than in body, repeated to her, rankled the most.^ As the ability to please the prince became the avenue for preferment, court life was but little conducive to elevation of character while the courtier grew inclined to become a tool indifferent to whatever did not lead to royal favour. Usually without independent standing of his own, he was compelled to show pliability and debasement. Spenser could write that *'he doth soonest rise that best can handle his deceitful arts.^ The supremacy of the throne was so absolute, and subservience so entire, that self-respect was easily forgotten. The Duke of Suffolk after he had abused the king's confidence by marrying his sister, owed probably his life and certainly his return to favour to the great Cardinal, yet turned treacherously against his benefactor in the hour of his disgrace.. Later Bacon turned against Essex. In the centre of the nation's life and at a heroic moment of its history, the arts of success were often at variance with the most elementary instincts of decency. The royal example of magnificence contributed to such lowering of character. The King's display was on a scale requiring vast wealth, which in turn was often acquired by wholesale spoliation. The sovereign was ready to associate his favourites in the spoils, and lawyers and courtiers joined in the general scramble for the riches of 42 TUDOR IDEALS their victims. The extravagant scale of life in royal surroundings engendered rapacity. More and more money became necessary to keep up the train of life. The Duke of Buckingham wore a gown wrought of needle-work set upon cloth of tissue and furred with sable, valued at £1500. The garment of a simple Knight like Sir Nicholas Vaux was then valued at £1000. The prevailing spirit of greed and the ruthlessness of acquisition disgraced the court. Even Surrey's wearing apparel was distributed among his enemies after his execution, the Duke of Somerset taking the greater part.^ Men trafficked almost at court and many nobles were engaged in trade. The King himself seems to have lent money and taken as a pledge the armour of Charles the Bold. Favourites of royalty found fortune in its shadow. Wolsey's wealth was proverbial, Cromwell's hardly less. A poor lad like Mark Smeaton after a few months in the Queen's favour, could buy horses and arms and parade liveries such as no lord of rank could excel. ^ Miserly as was Elizabeth, those on whom she smiled prospered mightily. If her spoliations were less flagrant than those of her father, she enriched her favourites by the grant of monopolies and one of the first signs of her displeasure against Essex, was when she refused to renew his profitable farming of sweet wines. ^ A "mere vegetable of the court" like Hatton, by respectful flattery and greater brains than he was credited with by his contemporaries, secured vast riches and the Chancellorship. The chronicle of his accumulation may be cited as an instance of the benefits of royal favour. In 1582 he obtained the Manor of Parva Weldon and other lands; in 1585 the keepership of the forest of Rockingham and the Isle of Purbeck; in 1586 the site of the Monastery of Brier and several manors; in 1587 the domain of Naseby, the Manor and rectory of West Drayton and Perry Place in Middlessex, part of the lands forfeited by Lord Paget being bestowed on him while he also shared largely in estates forfeited by rebels in Ireland.^ THE COURT 43 Although careers so successful were the exception yet, where the rewards of favour were great, keen rivalry in the art of pleasing was naturally found in the court atmosphere. Success or failure depended on the acquisi- tion of such talents and skilled preparation became neces- sary to fit the courtier for his task. Surrey has described the more ornamental side of this training. One follows his own occupations as a youth at Windsor passing his time in riding, dancing, tennis, and the chase. If Surrey's own talents did not offer the best proof to the contrary, it might be supposed that nothing had changed in education since the Middle Ages, and that outwardly the courtier type still conformed to the older model. Alongside of such practices had grown up another idea, which demanded the exercise of greater talents than mere proficiency in sports and pastimes. In every European country but especially in Italy where most Renaissance ideas originated, a higher educa- tion was now exacted. An entire literature arose on the subject and such works ^° either in the original or else translated, found their way into England. For the most part they were written in that impersonal spirit of realism which marked the Italian mind of the Sixteenth Century. The courtier's life, training and endowments, were all dis- cussed in the light of the moral, social and intellectual as- pects of his duties. With princes as learned as were the Tudors, the courtiers followed suit and their education be- came matter of the most serious moment. Ascham who was no flatterer, praised the scholarship of some of the young noblemen at court, while contemporaries dwelt on their literary skill and knowledge of languages ancient and modern. For poets of such distinction as Surrey and Wyatt, Sackville and Sidney, to have graced the court, within the reigns of father and daughter, was no slight achievement. The attempt to seek distinction in poetry was in itself a tribute to letters. Puttenham took pains to remind his reader that his work on poetry was 44 TUDOR IDEALS intended for the training of "young gentlemen or idle courtiers." Toward the latter part of the century, a deliberate effort was made to create almost artificially a more con- scious courtier type. The absurdities of Euphuism have often been held to ridicule, but its significance lay in presenting a model of courtliness which depended not on birth or talent, but on speech. It aimed to establish a circle whose refinement would mark a reaction from the grossness of the age, and whose basis for distinction should rest on cultivation and the wish to balance mind and body. The courtier excelling in arms and letters, was expected to do all things well. His accomplishments when as real as those which graced a Wyatt, formed the brighter side of a life which in most respects was unsatisfactory. Putten- ham has drawn the picture of a courtier who while pre- tending to be at work despatching crown business was in reality idling. ^^ The Huguenot Languet was unimpressed by what he saw at the English court, finding its habits unmanly and its courtesy affected. ^^ An era since become a by-word for manliness, was condemned by its contempo- raries for effeminacy.-'^ Toward the end of Elizabeth's reign, the importance of the court was waning in the national life, although super- ficially nothing had changed. The Virgin Queen enjoyed her subjects' love and veneration. Her court was as brilliant as her father's, her progresses still more magnifi- cent. But a new life had begun to open beyond, which touched even the surroundings nearest to the queen. Sid- ney's career as a courtier presented only the least memor- able side of his activities. Yet he dared to speak his mind to a sovereign who, more than anyone, resented such interference; his letter to dissuade her from marrying the son of the "Jezebel of the Age," Catherine de Medici, was written with courage as high as he displayed at Zutphen. His friend and biographer Fulke Greville could find that subjects might preserve independence toward their THE COURT 45 sovereign by "paying humble tribute in manner though not in matter," ^^ and Spenser, with Sidney in his mind, portrayed the perfect courtier who hating flattery, cared only for honour and who in his prince's service was always ready for arms or civil governance. ^^ Even Sidney had on occasion to bend to the royal will and obey the queen, when she refused to let him embark on his desired voyage around the world. Independence was not the courtier's lot, and when a keen soldier like the future Lord Mountjoy, left without consent, to fight as a volunteer in France, he was ordered back and reviled by the queen for his audacity. The glamour of the court reflected little of its true life. Utter dependence on a capricious sovereign's whims was only one side of the evil. Nowhere was poverty more oppressive for those who lacked the skill to profit by its opportunities. Sidney when overwhelmed by money difficulties, wrote to Hatton, that he must forget how to blush and begged his aid to obtain the queen's signature for some grant which might help him out of trouble. ^^ To most men, the court spelled misery and disappoint- ment. A few independent spirits like More preferred the privacy of their homes and wrote feelingly of the " bondage unto kings." His traveller from Utopia spurning wealth and position chose his personal liberty. Those who knew its pitfalls could like Sir Amyas Poulet write to congratulate a friend on being called "from the dangerous and uncertain estate of Princes' courts to live in the country. ^'^ But more often even those most alive to its dangers remained fascinated by the glamour. Roger Ascham could write feelingly about its slipperiness, but continued in the royal service until he died in poverty. The poetic tradition ^^ of satire against court life revived from Alexandrian example was in part conventional, in part caused by disappointment. The opposite and con- flicting desire for privacy and worldliness existed much as to-day — though the goal of such ambition was then only to 46 TUDOR IDEALS be found around the prince's person. The distaste was often strong yet not so strong as the attraction for who- ever sought the brilliancy of life. Spenser who had in vain attempted to succeed at court, could say with injured sensitiveness, "What hell it is in suing long to bide."^^ Lyly wrote, for once with the accent of truth, that the court shone for those not there but singed its dwellers, and Spenser was only the most gifted of the many singed. VI. THE TRAINING FOR AUTHORITY Philip de Comines who was widely read in England, urged princes to read history as the best way to acquire wisdom, basing his argument on the ground that they were surrounded by flatterers and the span of life was insufficient for experience. Lack of education was never a Tudor failing, and no princes were ever more carefully prepared for the practice of authority. The founder of the dynasty not being born to the purple, was in himself hardly a test of what might be expected from a prince of the Renaissance. His native qualities of statesmanship more than outweighed any deficiencies in early education. Yet judged even by narrow standards, he was not wanting in letters, for his French reading was extensive and he possessed enough familiarity with the ancient tongue to correspond in Latin with Cardinal Adrian di Castello. Bacon described him as studious rather than learned. Knowing his own shortcomings, and alive to the fact that the new power of the prince found its theoretical justification in classical example, he became all the more careful in his children's instruction. The royal family overtopped the nobles in knowledge as much as in authority. Henry VIII's scholarly attain- ments are too well known to require comment. His Latin was good enough to astonish Erasmus who wrongly suspected that he had been assisted in his correspond- ence.^ His interest in theology was considerable if unfor- tunate. He was familiar with several modern tongues, had a smattering of various subjects and possessed a real knowledge of music. During the early years of his reign, study took up no mean part of his time and contributed to the impression created abroad, that his personality was negligible. But the Tudor love of authority allowed 47 48 TUDOR IDEALS no one long to usurp royal prerogatives, and their faults never proceeded from ignorance. The day was over for a prince to be as unlettered as Henry VI whose stupidity passed for holiness. On the Scottish throne, James IV enjoyed fame for his knowledge of six languages besides that of "the savages who live in some parts of Scotland. " The prince of the Renaissance felt inclined to scholar- ship from taste and policy, and the children of royalty were almost oppressively instructed. At eight years of age, Henry VIIFs illegitimate son, the Duke of Rich- mond, was able to translate and construe any passage of Caesar. His tutor, George Cotton, with more sense than the pedagogue Croke, tried to mitigate the rigour of such studies by withdrawing the boy to out-of-door amusements. In their wish to fit Edward VI for aflfairs of state his teachers propounded such questions of pol- icy to the boy as the comparative merits of democracy and aristocracy.^ The young prince received the full classical training of his age and foreign ambassadors could only marvel at his skill in Latin. ^ The education of the two princesses was as thorough. Mary's solid instruction has been undeservedly passed in silence while Elizabeth's has too often been praised. It is superfluous to repeat Ascham's stale ancedote of her love for the classics — "her sweet tongue could speak distinctively Greek, Latin, Tuscan, Spanish, French and Dutch." " Mirror for Magistrates," III, 918. Both English and French poets like Ronsard, d' Aubigne and Du Bartas with monotonous eulogy, extolled her love of letters, while Bacon, writing after her death, when the courtier's art had ceased, remarked that to the last year of her life she was accustomed to appoint set hours for her study. Beyond the influence exercised by their own per- sonality, the ideas of the age emphasized the part played THE TRAINING FOR AUTHORITY 49 by princes in the commonwealth. Educators and politi- cal thinkers discussed their training, and the sphere of their activities in the state. Such theories even when not consciously studied by those on the throne, illustrate the ideal then entertained of royal duties. The prince's example was upheld as a pattern to his people and the power of royalty to do good became a lasting monument of fame. The throne was to radiate encouragement to learning and virtue. Treatises written to expound such views ^ laid a theoretical basis to the obligations of power. Thomas More dwelt on the duties of royalty ^ and Lati- mer declared with Puritan fervour that no one had greater labour than a prince.^ Left to itself the English mind tends to reduce ideas to their practical expression. The Continental vision is more abstract. Out of Italy, France and Spain, came theories of royal duties derived mainly from classical sources where moralists extolled the princes' power for good. The noblest of Roman Emperors served as a model whosepreceptsof virtue were intended to inspire contem- porary rulers.'^ This expedient was popular, but there is no record of its practical effect. Save with a realist like Macchiavelli, the writers of the Renaissance took keen de- light in theorizing even when they saw the wide breach between practice and ideas. A moral effigy taking little account of life became shaped into an ideal ethical image. It was the accompaniment in theory to the exaltation of the royal power. Not the least ability of the Tudors lay in the talent they displayed in surrounding themselves with compe- tent advisors. The method for selecting these so far as it was not accidental, remains largely obscure. The phenomenal rise of men like Wolsey and Cromwell is as ill-accounted for, by any ordinary gradation of service, beyond the ability to please the prince, as is their sud- den fall. Where the avenues of approach were still unde- termined transitions became abrupt. The public services 50 TUDOR IDEALS were very irregular; except with municipal life, the ele- ments of the modern state remained rudimentary through- out the Middle Ages. Until the end of the Fifteenth Cen- tury the higher officials had been mainly selected from the clergy, for few laymen possessed the necessary educa- tion. The Sixteenth Century was to be the bridge which spanned the medieval with the modern world. The sec- ularization of the state was among its most important achievements. In a transition period like the Renaissance which pre- sents phases of decay alongside of others of growth, a fresh structure had to be built, less by the establishment of new services than by the modification and expansion of those existing. The force which brought this about did not deliberately set out to create a class of civil servants, but utilizing the material at hand, took those it found within reach, whose training bore the usual classical stamp of the age. Men in public life, then as now, were occa- sionally graced with adornments of cultivation. Yet there is a disposition to exaggerate the importance of such ele- ments which formed part of their instruction. The real qualities which made for the highest success, hardly dif- fered from those of any other era except that for the first time in England their bearers stand out in the full light of a personality where one can discern the beginnings of modern man. The victory of Renaissance culture however, became easier when a variety of reasons made its mastery useful to success in life. The expansion of the state then in proc- ess, looked to the ancient world for its models, and found its best servants in those most familiar with its records. Education bears a direct relation to life and the old schol- asticism had been signally deficient as a preparation for this. Something more modern was required and found in the revelation of antiquity. The rise of the new class of officials was hastened by the diffusion of education among laymen who, aloof from church and feudal connections. THE TRAINING FOR AUTHORITY 51 were solely devoted to the task of administration in the crown service. The movement toward secularization was gradual and probably in its beginning unconscious. It was attended by curious circumstances. So long as churchmen had been employed in the state, the ecclesiastical hierarchy which gave them their position was conducive to its members occupying without anomaly high civil posts. Once lay- men were substituted for clerics, the lack of fixed tradition brought about, as is often the case in new countries, the most incongruous choices. John Stile the English envoy at the Spanish court in the early years of the century was probably only a scribe and certainly without rank or ed- ucation.^ An Italian merchant named Spinelli represented England in Flanders. Nor were conditions in other countries very different. Puebla, the Spanish representa- tive at the court of Henry VII, lived in the house of a mason who harbored loose women and dined daily in their company.^ Such anomalies adjusted themselves and the increased importance of international relations soon brought about its own remedy. Though learning aroused the derision of the unlettered it was prized in high quarters. Sir Thomas Elyot probably owed his position as ambassador to his fame as a writer. Henry VIII had sincere respect for let- ters and among his envoys Sir Thomas Wyatt deserves to rank with Navagero, Garcilaso della Vega, and the other poet diplomatists of the Renaissance. Before the modern organization of a diplomatic hierarchy had been created, and at a time when men of education still were rare, those in whom such qualities stood out, received more readily preferment from the Crown. To this degree the somewhat irregular conditions prevailing in the administration proved favourable to letters. With the principles of statecraft which guided the Tudors, advancement became easier to men of instruction. A French ambassador paying tribute to the excellence 52 TUDOR IDEALS of British diplomacy wrote that there was never a rumour in any quarter of the world which they were not the first to hear.^° Alluding perhaps to Cromwell's extensive use of spies he mentioned the agents whose duty it was to transmit news about the designs of princes. The reports of the Venetian Ambassadors are deservedly fa- mous but many of those written by English envoys were no whit inferior. Later, Queen Elizabeth, conservative when circum- stances permitted, chose decorative incumbents for cere- monial occasions but men of ability for the important missions, whom she surrounded with staffs of legal and commercial specialists as well as secretaries of likely dispo- sition to be trained in diplomatic business. ^^ The upheaval which marked the end of the Middle Ages was attended by a growing freedom in the choice of those living in the surroundings of the prince. Dif- ferent causes often produce unexpected effects and the conditions created by the crown instead of solely facili- tating the task of centralized government also favoured the growth of the middle classes. Already Perkin Warbeck had denounced the "Caitiffs and villains of simple birth" around the first Tudor. Henry VII, like Louis XI whom he copied, employed men of the humblest origin for the highest offices doubtless finding these better educated and more pliable. Motives of policy made him reluctant to select those of exalted birth. Henry VIII acted similarly though such choices were often bitterly resented. The disparagement of Wolsey was based on his small origin. William Roy wrote, "Och there is neither duke nor baron Be they never of so great power But they are entertained to crouch Before this butcherly flouch."^^ The Pilgrimage of Grace with Cromwell in mind de- manded that villain blood be removed from the Privy THE TRAINING FOR AUTHORITY 53 Council. The Duke of Buckingham complained that the king was ready to give fees, office and rewards to boys rather than to noblemen, and Surrey at his trial declared it to be the royal intention to get rid of all those of ancient lineage. With the decay of feudalism and the diffusion of education, the barriers between the classes had to a certain extent been let down. The new learning was open to all though it was not to be the men of ancient lineage who were most to benefit by it. An established position is rarely conducive to favouring the initial energy necessary to profit from novel conditions. This was one of the ohief reasons which encouraged the influx of the "novi homines," who found their path made easier because so few others possessed the necessary attainments. Already Henry VIFs much hated minister Dudley had urged the nobility to pay more attention to the education of their sons. In his opinion these were the worst brought up of any nation, with the re- sult that "the children of poor men and mean folks are promoted to the promotion and authority that the children of noble blood should have if they were meet therefor. "^^ A knowledge of hawking, hunting and heraldry had too long been regarded as the sole essen- tials in a gentleman's education. So late as the reign of Henry VIII, a peer of the realm could say that it was enough for a nobleman's sons to wind their horn and carry their hawk and leave study and learning to the children of mean men. To whom Richard Pace replied in famous words that it was due to such ideas that mean men's sons managed affairs of state. Latimer deplored the absence of education on the part of the upper classes which left them unprepared to fill high offices. ^^ Many then remarked that the nobles had only themselves to blame if men of humble origin brought up in a more rigid discipline succeeded better in after life. A real improvement in the education of the upper classes 54 TUDOR IDEALS was, however, taking place and from the middle of the century, a more serious effort was made to train these for the service of the state. The education of the castle, almost the last survival of the old chivalry, was giving way to a new idea, grounded in the University and enlarged by foreign travel. State service furnished the goal in view and youth was to be prepared to act as the prince's counsellor, to be wise and eloquent of speech and learned in tongues and travel. ^^ For the first time learning had become a primary condition to advancement. A contemporary opinion of what a gentleman's bringing up should consist of is contained in the elder Sidney's advice to his son to study assiduously, be careful of his tongue, to exercise his body, to drink seldom yet enough not to betray effects. ^^ The younger Sidney in a famous letter to his brother ex- pressed a more developed ideal. He advised him to cul- tivate a good colloquial knowledge of Latin. He was to study mathematics and history, practice oratory and poetry "for ornament" and music for personal solace. Lastly he was to cultivate horsemanship and "daily for an hour or two, sword and dagger." Halfway between the learning of the scholar, and the practice in sport and arms of the knight, was the new Renaissance idea of a gentleman's education. Borrowed largely from Italian and French writers though also from Spanish and even Polish ^"^ a body of opinion grew up for the training of those who aimed to fit themselves to be of service to their country. They were advised to study laws and treaties, civil policy and moral science. So far as books could supplement deficiencies, theoretical sugges- tions were plentiful. Bacon attributed the lack of good counsellors as being due to the absence of a suitable collegiate education where those who so desired, could fit themselves by a study of history, modern languages and government to enter the state service. Bacon was over inclined to seek academic remedies for the deficiencies he saw around him. With the growing THE TRAINING FOR AUTHORITY 55 tendency to find honour in state employment, the means of preparation were inadequate. Learned books could expatiate on the qualities needed but were less suggestive as to how such talents could be acquired. For the rich, travel became the approved method, and even those of small means like Sidney went from country to country in search of experience. The system was at best haphazard. It was often remedied by native talent but was not always conducive to bringing the best to the fore while it could not establish even a modern standard of mediocrity. In the struggle for advancement other methods were resorted to. With the shrewd observation of experience Lord Burleigh advised his son in the search for success, to attach his fortune to those of some great man as a friend and even to give him some "great gratuity otherwise in this ambitious age thou shall remain like a hop without a pole line in obscurity." Bacon in the apology of his conduct toward Essex, freely admitted that he had begun his career by attaching himself to his fortunes and accepted from Essex the grant of a piece of land which he later sold. He related that he had reminded Essex of the example of Guise who had been called the greatest usurer in France because having turned all his estate into obligations he had left nothing for himself while binding numbers of persons to him.^^ Between a discarded feudalism and an immature party idea, theie grew up an intermediate form of personal organization centring round men of prominence. Leicester possessed such a following as did Essex. In the atmos- phere of the Court a semi-political feudalism arose which was not without at times giving umbrage to the crown. VII. OFFICE AND CORRUPTION Little is known of the first Tudor ministers beyond the fact of their unpopularity. Save for a few churchmen, they were men mostly of small origin without other posi- tion than came to them as dependents of the crown. In. spite of the dislike they encountered, no such scandal disgraces them as had allowed the receipts of Edward IV's chief officials to be displayed in the auditing bureaus of Paris.^ The administrative talent of the crown went to create a more efficient machinery of office than had before been known in England. In the national renovation then proceeding, an entire structure was built up. The royal policy in the assertion of its new powers aimed to provide a directing force able to harness the different elements of national strength and bring compactness to what had so long been loose jointed. New communities possess their own standards and in many respects England was a new community. As in all young countries where rapidly evolving conditions produce vast changes, the absence of an established order caused most men to seek primarily their own selfish benefit without being held in leash by the discipline of a tradition handed down with its accumu- lated prestige. The remarkable transformation of the public services which then took place followed, in a sense, the evolution of royalty itself. The first Tudor's ministers imitating their master remained as inconspicuous as circumstances per- mitted. Public office still presented grave danger and few emoluments with little halo falling' on its incumbents. Except for those whose duties brought them into contact with the prince, it was regarded more as a burden than otherwise and few there were bold enough to seek its precarious distinction without ulterior purpose. Sir s6 OFFICE AND CORRUPTION 57 Thomas More's reluctance to accept office is well known and there was hardly an ambassador who did not beg to be recalled. The government services were still in too chaotic a condition to make them desirable. There ex- isted few traditions of integrity or even of devotion to duty. When Wolsey almost alone remained at his post during the alarm caused by the sweating sickness, the fact was regarded 'as noteworthy. Not till much later was resignation of office known. Like in Eastern lands, to fall was to be disgraced, for it meant the loss of the prince's favour and often of life as well. Impeachment was certain to follow dismissal. Wolsey deprived of office signed an indenture acknowledging his offences and praying the king as partial atonement to take over all his temporal possessions.^ When Paget, who had opposed Mary's Spanish marriage, realized that it would take place, he asked for leave of absence but desisted when he saw that to persevere in this course exposed him to the risk of losing life, honor, and property. Under the theory of the crown then prevailing, there was no room for anyone entertaining different opinions. To acknowledge these was the brand of the traitor and the penalties which ensued were only the legal punishments for the offence. Not until Elizabeth's stable rule, mod- ern conditions began to be approximated which relieved officers of the crown from such feelings of personal danger. Burleigh asked consent to resign, as a protest against the queen's continued displeasure toward Leicester for his policy in the Low Countries,^ and it was only after this threat, that he found her more amenable to reason. Where government was personal the glamour of royalty extended over its favourites. The shadow of princely power devolved on whoever reigned in his name. Wolsey's arrogance was proverbial in the heyday of his favour. Foreign envoys remained amazed at his speaking in the first person of what England would do, and at the sight of great peers like the Dukes of Suffolk and Buckingham, 58 TUDOR IDEALS performing menial services for him when he sat down to dinner with the royal party.^ With less magnificent tastes than the Cardinal, Thomas Cromwell was hardly less insolent in power. In a well- known passage of his "Survey" Stow relates how Cromwell wishing to enlarge the garden of a new house he had built in Throgmorton Street, merely ordered the surveyors to take a piece of land from his father's garden as well as from others and whoever had the temerity to resist lost his case. "This much of mine own knowledge have I thought good to note that the sudden rising of some men causeth them to forget themselves."^ One cannot regard corruption as incidental to any system or age, but it would seem as if increased oppor- tunities meant an increase of evil. The enlarged horizon of the Sixteenth Century was not productive to improve- ment in official honesty. Francis I of France expressed the prevalent opinion, when answering an appeal made to refrain from bribery, that the only means to attain an object was by force or corruption. New avenues were travelled in the old way and the generous ideals entertained by visionaries were replaced by hard facts. Wolsey could receive pensions and gifts and himself confer bribes with- out finding it amiss. The system was well-nigh universal which made the English ambassadors at the Emperor's court suggest the use of money to influence his council. Even Thomas More is said to have been in receipt of a pension from the King of France.^ The noblest mind of the age praised the Utopian practice of bribing enemies in preference to making war, while Utopian diplomacy dis- covered a practical use for gold in corruption. ^ The judiciary was often a servile bureaucracy where any high standard of integrity was the exception and a chancellor like Lord Rich, perjured himself in order to meet the royal wishes. Standards of professional honour were unformed. Doubtless the transformation of Eng- land, brought an intense strain on the courts. Novel OFFICE AND CORRUPTION 59 circumstances and the lack of any established standard caused far greater laxity of conduct. The gradual amel- ioration which took place proves how every age contains the seeds of its own betterment, and as it gains stability sheds its more disreputable practices. Even then some kept honest. Roper found it worthy of note that his father-in-law More should have purchased the little land he possessed before he became Lord Chancellor; and when a litigant in his court sent him a gold cup as a New Year's gift he accepted this but returned one of greater value.^ Yet bribery in the law was notorious and shocked the French Ambassador Marillac who remarked that Sir Thomas Audely, then appointed Chancellor, enjoyed the reputation of being a good seller of justice.^ To traverse the different branches of activity is to find in each the same stain.^ A "scandalous venality" existed in many offices. An Archbishop could divert money set aside for educational purposes to enrich himself. ^° A Lord High Admiral could connive at piracy." When Philip's marriage arrangements with Mary were being made, one of the most important points discussed was the bribery of members of the English royal council and Egmont wrote to his master that more could be done with money in England than anywhere else in the world. Later Leicester was accused of taking commissions on all public business which passed through his hands,^^ and officers of the queen's council were bribed to connive at jobbery in the customs. Yet Hatton, in spite of pressure brought to bear on him, acted as Chancellor in an honourable way, and suspended his own Secretary, Samuel Cox, for taking bribes to obtain his master's influence with the queen. Sir Henry Sidney was among the few absolutely incorruptible officials. Cecil too was far more honest than the rest and such suspicions as existed about him^^ were without foundation. When royalty took bribes, it is significant that Mary Stuart could be praised for not selling to the highest bidder 6o TUDOR IDEALS the great offices of state. ^^ Elizabeth was less scrupulous. Sir John Harrington desirous to obtain back land forfeited by an ancestor, offered the queen five hundred pounds and a pretty jewel, ^^ while Leicester in disgrace was advised by his friends at court to send her a valuable gift.^^ The difference in the degree of corruption in different ages, is less one of human nature than of the effect of dis- cipline. The evolution of Tudor England toward modern- ity was too rapid to shape and coordinate governmental machinery in all its points of contact with the opportuni- ties for wealth. Where the reserve of inherited riches was still in its infancy, where salaries were inadequate, and the demand for display excessive, it is not surprising that in a crude and newly developed administration, without se- curity of tenure or pride of tradition, many officials should have succumbed to the temptation of a practice still un- regulated, in order to advance their personal interests. Camden alludes regretfully to the frequent squandering of public funds by those who preferred their private to the public good.^^ This was only to be expected, nor was the line of demarcation between honest and corrupt usage so sharp as it may seem to-day. In Scotland for instance, in the Sixteenth Century the receipt of pensions from the British Court was so general a practice, that deductions of dishonesty would be unfair. ^^ Rigorous conclusions are hard to draw. The fortune of Gresham acquired by what now seems usury, and the retention of illicit benefits through exchange was regarded as perfectly legitimate by those around him. It required an age of greater stability but less enterprise, to establish a more exacting code. The explanation of corruption may best be found in the rapid extension of life. Constructive forces were in con- tact with a disintegrating structure and the relations be- tween the two were to shape conditions with regard to which no body of opinion had yet been formed. Men had a vague idea that much was wrong, without being able amid the moral chaos which prevailed, to define OFFICE AND CORRUPTION 6i their impressions. The range of the crown's activity had so far exceeded any ordinary sphere of control, that a void grew up where the practices of official life outstripped the primitive standards previously known. Instinctively those who could, tried to turn such new situations to their advantage. In the long run they did so to the benefit of the community though often with a brutal selfishness. The most glaring instance of corruption, through the spoliation of Church property, put an end less to monas- tic abuses many of which had been wantonly exaggerated, than it broke up the stagnant pools of conservatism, whose vast wealth lay intrenched throughout the land. The success of the great reforms of the age would have been more precarious if the king had not enlisted in his meas- ures the greed of the most energetic elements in the nation, hungry for wealth and little mindful of its source. How little can be judged by such a scandalous instance as the Duke of Buckingham's condemnation when the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk who had been among the judges that sentenced him, shared in the distribution of his vast estates. ^^ In the reshuffling of classes and conditions which then took place, it was natural that the more forceful elements should come to the front. The freedom of restraint and the laxity of standards, provided the conditions favour- ing their assertion. So far as permanent consequences ensued, the corruption attending the governmental services was only a petty aspect in the far wider scope open to those who dared to achieve success irrespective of means. It was the shadow cast on the action of masterful characters. The unscrupulousness of the age, contributed to the suc- cessful assertion of those whose energies would with diffi- culty have been restrained within conventional limitations. To this extent, corruption in a period of rapid expansion has not the same degrading influence it exercises in more stationary times. Instead of acting as a permanent stigma, it marks the evil accompanying an excess of individual 62 TUDOR IDEALS opportunity running ahead of a collective interest still un- able to assert itself. Even in that age, glimpses of higher perceptions appear; amid the conditions favouring selfish greed a finer spirit like Wyatt could write with disgust: "I cannot wrest the law to fill the cofi^er with innocent blood to feed myself fat."^° From time to time shone brighter lights. When in one of his sermons Latimer expressed the modern idea of the state paying liberal salaries to the right men and boldly denounced before the king the sale of public offices, several officials restored their defalcations and he was able to re- turn nearly four hundred pounds to the crown on condition of keeping secret the names of the penitents. ^^ There are other instances of a growing delicacy of feeling in such matters. Philip Sidney declined to allow his own needs to be relieved at the expense of others in the proposed for- feiture of catholic estates. ^^ Amid the new conditions of stability a finer spirit of integrity arose and when after his voyage around the world Drake offered some of his booty to men of prominence at court, certain of these refused on the ground of it having been obtained by piracy.^' VIII. POLITICAL MORALITY History offers no more delicate problem than to pass judgment on a nation's morals. Few periods have prated more about ethical considerations in public af- fairs, or acted less on them than the Sixteenth Century. In that meeting-ground of opposite tendencies, the sud- denness of new conditions rising from amid the old, and the unexpectedness of its problems, created a series of questions which those in authority were often ill- prepared to cope with. The result became visible in intense reactions which at times followed periods of lib- eral tolerance. As soon as moderation no longer seemed opportiiiie, each side harked back to traditions of vio- lence inherited from earlier days, and applied these as instruments of statecraft to the practical conduct of affairs. This may help to explain the paradox of an age which presents such contradictory sides of cultivation and savagery. The problems which arose were novel, thrust on the attention of those in authority by unfore- seen circumstances as often as by design. But the at- tempts to solve them were the result of a more ancient practice which looked to force when applied to the mass, and to violence where the individual was concerned. The Fifteenth Century in England had been stained by deeds as dark as any perpetrated in Italy. The mur- der of Henry VI, or of the princes in the Tower, were not isolated blood spots but crimes comparable to those of a Malatesta, or a Borgia. Even Louis XI, hardened in his methods, was so shocked by the latter that he re- fused to reply to Richard Ill's letter soliciting his friend- ship much to the disappointment of a prince who had hoped to receive from the French king the same pension as his predecessor.^ The motive for political crime is 63 64 TUDOR IDEALS usually to obtain greater security for the prince. So long as national strength or opinion had not yet been aroused, the instruments of statecraft were personal and rulers were obliged to rely on their skill or unscru- pulousness, in the conduct of affairs, rather than on the prestige of an administration or the discipline of a people. The goa.! of action was their own safety on the throne and the extension of_ their . power, but the means by which this was achieved came through intrigue and violence, rather than' from straightfor- ward policy. It was hardly affected by any force of public opinion which was still rudimentary and inartic- ulate. Where the goals of statecraft were rapidly shap- ing themselves toward directions which have lasted to our own day, the methods of statesmanship were the same as have always existed in all personal government. No Italian despot exceeded Henry VII in political shrewdness, and like most Italians his cruelty was never exercised gratuitously. Murder and clemency alternately served the purpose of his statecraft, but unlike his son he did not resort unnecessarily to the scaffold and reserved his victims for real or supposed necessity. Examples of his cunning were alleged in his encouraging the rumour that the Duke of York was alive to make it appear that he did not reign in his wife's right, or in having his spies accused openly as his enemies at St. Paul's to divert sus- picion from them. His methods were personal and his political morality was that of the age, treacherous and ruthless on occasion though never needlessly abusive of force. To those who seek to understand the spirit of that time, few things are more confusing than the seeming respect given to legal form with the gross breaches of justice. The most amazing contradictions stand out side by side. In order to give legal sanction to his attainders for treason Henry VIFs reign was supposed to have begun on August 2ist, 1485, so that all who had borne arms against POLITICAL MORALITY 65 him at Bosworth offended against the King's Majesty and as such were guilty of high treason. Yet when Perkin Warbeck failed in his attempt to seize the crown, the defence advanced was, that as a foreigner, he had not been guilty of treason to his lord, and mild captivity was reserved for him until later plots made his execu- tion necessary. Such contradictions came from the successful oppor- tunism of Tudor policy. Where the current of an age flows swiftly, those adrift of it guide their bark by instinct and not by a fixed chart. Henry VII could ruthlessly suppress one insurrection and act toward the leaders of another with the greatest magnanimity. The lawjnjiisjiands became an instrument of policy more than of justice. Like every other function of government it had to bendJ.ts_elf.to the royaLwill. Even this subservience marked an enormous advance. After the anarchy of the Fifteenth Century when the intimidation of judges and juries had been com- mon occurrences and men appeared in court backed by their armed retainers, the new power of the crown by re- stricting the law's perversion to a single will, marked an undoubted advance. In their attitude toward justice as in their attitude toward every form of authority the Tudors became the ■gateway for modern England and made their tyranny a step toward future freedom. Tudor policy used the law as a practical means of levelling their subjects to equality. Obvious as this now seems, its beginnings were difficult to enforce. When in 1498 the Earl of Shefiield had killed a man he felt his honour insulted because although a peer and pardoned by the king for this offence he had been indicted before a common court of justice. Under Henry VIII the case of Lord Dacres executed for a petty poaching fray is notorious. The king insisted on his execution although pardoning some of his humbler companions. It is among the paradoxes of history that the greatest results are often unconsciously prepared. 66 TUDOR IDEALS The policy of the crown which aimed to bring order to the different processes of justice handed down from the Middle Ages, to subject these to its own control and apply them equally to all, irrespective of birth or station, in re- ality prepared the way for what would to-day be known as a democratic reform which was carried out by the great- est tyrant of his time. Even by the lights of his century Henry VIII was cruel. The levelling tendencies of the age first became apparent in the equality of high and low before the executioner's axe. The first prince of the Renaissance in England utilized without compunction the vast instruments of power in his hands. The system of espionage which since the time of Edward IV had been known in England, was a current accompaniment of Tudor government. When the houses of the great sheltered retinues of retainers, spies were nearly always to be found among these. The evidence for the execution of Lord Exeter was obtained from his servants. The unscrupulousness of the king's rule was in nothing more noticeable than in his readiness to send the mighty, like the Duke of Buckingham, to the block for no greater crime than their royal descent. This was only one side of a political morality which had made him begin his reign by unjustly condemning his father's unpopular ministers to the scaffold and later beheading the Earl of Suffolk, whose life he had pledged himself to spare. Underneath such actions, was ingrained the belief in himself as above the law and independent of the canons of right and wrong. The prince, embodying the state, could do as he liked and his first duty was to safeguard his own security and authority by every means in his power. The propriety of his actions never disturbed a monarch who saw no relation between his own practice and the duty owed his subjects. Medieval violence merely changed its form. Instead of being vengeance wreaked by private means, the king made POLITICAL MORALITY G'j the strong hand of the state, the instrument of his com- mand and in his matrimonial experiences raised personal whims to the level of national policies. In this sense, po- litical morality acquired a far more sinister meaning than ever before. The elevation of royal authority had given it a power never previously possessed. The new idea of the throne, new forces in the state, and the weakened in- fluence of former restraints, brought to the front a theory of statecraft which looked only to the means to bring about whatever end was desired by the crown. Here and there a few scruples lingered. Henry showed a curious respect for Katherine of Aragon's life though the suspicion of poi- son was not entirely absent from her death. But an affair which then touched the King so nearly as his desire for riddance of Anne Boleyn, was treated with an absence of decency. Under torture and with promise of pardon, a confession was wrung from the wretched Mark Smeaton, who was subsequently executed to prevent his retracting, while the queen expiated on the scaffold the crime of hav- ing borne him a daughter. Such misdeeds were the reactions of a swollen power un- checked by fear of censure, in an age which despite its re- finements remained brutal and cruel. Yet it is not easy to generalize, for examples of magnanimous moderation might be cited almost in the same breatlT." Protector Somerset's humanity stood him in ill stead. Few char- acters in history have been more harshly treated than Mary, but to her credit, she spared the life of her sister, Elizabeth, when the latter was implicated in Wyatt's rebellion, and refrained from the alternative plan of send- ing her out of England to be married to a foreigner. Every age offers examples of contrary tendencies, and it is unfair to single out only certain ones to the exclusion of others. The so-called spirit of a period arises through some ideas being brought into sharper relief and not kept down by moderating influences. During the Sixteenth Century the march of action had outstripped that of criticism. The 68 TUDOR IDEALS exercise of forceful energy was not restrained by stabilizing tendencies which make for moderation. The direction given to political action placed itself astride of popular currents far more than is realized. The network of intrigue was the inevitable result of a personal government which in the absence of definite party ideas or of an organized opinion, utilized religious prejudices for its own purposes or invoked spiritual motives alien to its own beliefs. So true was this, that even the lukewarm had in their own interest to conduct ruthlessly those movements of which they assumed the head. One so religiously tolerant as Eliza- beth, who was regarded as a freethinker by those who knew her best, was yet forced by circumstance to burn Catholics at the stake. On the continent the leader of the Protestant cause, William of Orange, was thought to be an agnostic while the Valois, who perpetrated St. Bar- tholomew, were more superstitious than Papist. Violence and political immorality passed into the cur- rent practice of life from two sides. Those who were them- selves deeply stirred by the great forces of the age and solely intent on their success, were as careless in their choice of method as men have always been in all great periods. Others who were personally indifferent, took their cue from the atmosphere around them and selected instru- ments of action solely from the point of view of expediency. Every age transmits to the next the shell of its own form more often than the substance. While the pious jargon handed down from the Middle Ages to envelope declara- tions of action was still preserved, new meanings were read into this. With fine irony, Thomas More describing the various sanctimonious guises intended to secure greater stability for political alliances, remarked that loop- holes could always be found. Such phraseology was partly a convention, partly a blind to disguise the real ruthlessness of policy. Morality could be utilized either to conceal policies or to confound enemies. Nothing was more conscientious than Elizabeth's public POLITICAL MORALITY 69 utterances. When she rebuked Leicester for accepting the proffered sovereign powers over the Netherlands, the nominal ground was because, to have acquiesced therein after protesting the contrary, would have made her " infamous to all princes."^ Theoretically, moral consid- erations were of supreme importance, and writers came forward, in defence of lofty ideals. The Frenchman, La Primaudaye, well known in England, declared that the prince's faith must be kept inviolate as no crime was worse than perjury,^ The French ambassador, Cognet, upheld plain dealing and the highest standard of veracity, reproving the Italians who defended villainy in the name of prudence.^ The maligned Italians were no worse than others, though the qualities which made them shine at every court were rarely those of character. Peele could declare ' If kings do dally with holy oaths, the heavens will right the wrongs that they sustain.' ^ But such expressions were confined to literature. Rhetorical tradition and classical and religious inheritance prated about abstract virtue doubtless in good faith and inten- tion. As a positive factor in action, morality was well-nigh negligible. Its main importance came as a sop to a yet unformed public opinion, and Bacon could quote approv- ingly Guicciardini's account of the King of Spain, who " did always mask and veil his appetites with a demon- stration of a devout and holy intention." There was little to choose in the ethics of any nation. All found it necessary to profess a lofty semblance of vir- tue and all resorted to whatever means, fair or foul, seemed most likely to conduce to the success of their policy. For- gery, torture and assassination were the current methods of the age. This discrepancy between the means and the ideal was so glaring as to astonish. If the scope for good and bad alike had increased it seemed as if only evil had been chosen. Assassination passed into public morals. Even the Utopians in wartime posted offers of reward to whoever 70 TUDOR IDEALS should kill their enemies' prince,^ justifying this because by the death of a few offenders the lives of many inno- cents on both sides would be preserved. When in "The Tempest" Antonio suggests to Sebastian to kill his brother in his sleep and reign in his stead the idea was not foreign to the imagination of the age. England was saved from the worst practices of politi- cal murder, because the power of the crown was strong enough to enforce its purposes by legal means. But the political philosophy of the Renaissance, both Catholic and Protestant, taking its example from antiquity, admit- ted the legitimacy of assassination. Learning was uti- lized to find classical examples of virtuous crime and call in the slayers of Grecian tyrants to cast their halo on the murderers of the Renaissance.''' Henry VIII ap- proved of the plot to murder Cardinal Beaton, and paid the ruffians who perpetrated the crime. John Knox praised the murder as "a goodly deed," and the poet Lyndsay, prompt enough to see evil everywhere, found only good therein and likens the assassins to Judith slay- ing Holofernes.* Humanists like Buchanan, heads of Col- leges like Lawrence Humphrey,^ bishops like Poynet, on patriotic grounds expounded the virtues of tyranni- cide. The belief was then widely prevalent that the Catho- lic powers would reward anyone who assassinated Queen Elizabeth. She herself often referred to this danger, and remarked to one French ambassador that the King of Spain had despatched no less than fifteen emissaries to kill her who had so confessed. It is certain that Philip and Elizabeth each supporting a great cause resorted to the most criminal means against each other. To blacken her opponents, the queen not impossibly made a victim out of Dr. Lopez and may well have had an innocent man wronged to further her policy. English govern- mental agents like Peter Boles and Thomas Philips forged incriminating passages in the letters of their enemies, ^° POLITICAL MORALITY 71 and the incident of the CathoHc John Story, kidnapped by the queen's agents in the Low Countries and brought to England where he was executed, disposes one to accept the truth of many discreditable narratives. In Ireland the English administration coined base money ostensibly to prevent the rebels from providing for their wants from abroad,^^ and the first Lord Essex, imitating Caesar Bor- gia, invited the O'Neills to a banquet at Belfast which was followed by a general massacre. The gulf of hatred separating the different camps in Europe acted as an incentive to criminal solutions. Con- temporaries found in this no reason for astonishment. When Elizabeth was accused of having planned the murder of Parma in the Low Countries, she pricked the slander on the ground of her not having any personal grievance against a chivalrous enemy and because he was in no way indispensable to the prosecution of the war.^^ But she expressed no indignation at such a charge. The extension taken by English life in the latter part of the Sixteenth Century, tended to accentuate these evils. The sharpness of all crises brings to the fore an employment of means which corresponds to the reality of desire stripped of decorous formulas or re- straints. Political immorality less personal than under Henry VIII was becoming more national in the sense of extending far beyond the court. New horizons were being opened toward unfamiliar fields. The widening cir- cle projected around England embraced subjects so slightly connected as the break with Rome, the revolt in Flanders, and the English buccaneers in the West Indies, whose point of contact came in their common enmity with Spain. The queen occupying a throne which in her early years was sustained as much by du- plicity as by force, and almost to the end of her reign, threatened by grave dangers, responded to these with the use of the weapons of her time. It is a test of states- 72 TUDOR IDEALS manship in every age to be in touch with the life around it both good and bad and to utilize its force to attain the goal in view. False, hypocritical, and ruthless, as Elizabeth's practices were, they were those of the age, neither better nor worse. The Massacre of St. Bartholomew offers a touch- stone of sixteenth century statecraft in England as well as in France, revolting even to that time. The French ambassador Du Ferrier wrote Catherine de Medici of how profoundly it had shocked Catholic opinion in Europe. In the reign of terror which ensued in France, where a canon of Notre Dame like Roulart who had protested against it, was murdered in prison, men in fear of their lives praised the massacre though "privately, few are found that do not utterly detest it. "^^ Some explanation was thought necessary in its defence and Charles IX sending for Walsingham, told him it was due to the danger in which the royal family had suddenly found themselves owing to Coligny's alleged conspiracy, the proofs of which would shortly be published before the world. ^^ The French ambassador in London was at the same time instructed to explain the massacre to the queen. He did so, professing himself "ashamed to be counted a Frenchman" yet seeking to disculpate the king who had been distracted by the danger in which he found himself. Elizabeth could with difficulty have entertained any il- lusions as to the crime. From Paris Walsingham wrote in disgust that Coligny was never in more apparent favour than just before St. Bartholomew and it seemed less dan- gerous to live with the Valois as enemies than as friends. ^^ " There is here neither regard had to either word, writing or edict be it never so solemnly published." He was re- volted by the cruelty which planned the later massacres in the provinces and the hypocrisy which then protested that they were perpetrated against the royal will. Burleigh regarded it as the devil's work,^® yet admitted that the POLITICAL MORALITY 73 French ambassador had persuaded the queen that his master was in no way responsible, and had even the audac- ity to suggest that she should condole with the king for " this miserable accident" rather than to condemn him.^^ Elizabeth only used the massacre as a further excuse against the French marriage. With Charles IX's wish to suppress the Protestant faith his brother could not be a fit husband. But she neither broke off relations nor con- demned the crime but expressed her willingness to accept proofs of the conspiracy. Her attitude was one of the most callous indifference. The Rouen massacre a month later, aroused a seeming explosion of the queen's anger, but she professed to believe the official explanation which threw the blame on a few misguided partisans, and recommended for protection amid these murders, the English wine mer- chants at Bordeaux. ^^ She even accepted to be godmother of Charles IX's daughter and was cynical enough to use the massacres to set the greater value on her action, declaring that his per- secution against the Huguenots might seem incompatible with her friendship, yet the affection she entertained for the French king was so great as to cause her to accept his offer. Never did political considerations prevail more barefacedly. But the conscience of the nation, shocked by such murders, was healthier than that of its rulers. St. Bartholomew stamped a deep impression on the English mind in its horror of Catholic policy. Elizabeth's ideas of political morality were again in evi- dence amid the circumstances attending the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots. It may be true as her apologist has said, that any other prince would have done the same,^^ though the example of her sister Mary toward herself had been far more magnanimous. In a contemporary French dialogue, an Englishman defended, the execution on the ground that in matters of state it was no evil to remove a great evil in order to introduce a great bene- fit.2° Whether the charge that Mary had conspired 74 TUDOR IDEALS against Elizabeth's life was true or false, whatever sym- pathy a character so gifted, so heroic, and so unfortunate inspires, it is certain that the policy of which she was to find herself the victim was not dissimilar from her own ideas. Irrespective of the question of her association in Darnley's murder there can be little doubt that she approved of the plan to assassinate the Prince of Orange. Her execution was due to the practical view of politics taken in the Sixteenth Century. As it was impossible for Mary Stuart to regard herself otherwise than the rightful claimant to the English throne she was a danger to Prot- estant England. The necessity for her execution had been impressed on Elizabeth by her closest advisers, ^^ whether rightfully or wrongly, is here not the question. In ordering it Elizabeth showed herself more reprehensi- ble by her hypocrisy than by her conduct. In the anony- mous "Justification" written as a defence it was said that she had never ordered her death but only signed the warrant to be kept in case of need. Elizabeth in writ- ing to James VI protested her innocence of Mary's blood, and her son though hinting at a demand for " satisfac- tion " found it convenient to believe her. James was far more interested in assuring his own claim to the succession than in saving his mother's life,^^ and was probably se- cretly relieved by her death. More revolting was Elizabeth's hypocrisy in her pun- ishment of Secretary Davison whom she made a scapegoat to shield herself from Catholic resentment. The latter sentenced to imprisonment and the payment of a crush- ing fine, entreated vainly to be restored to the queen's favour. Though she aided him at times he never again recovered the latter and remained an innocent victim of her own duplicity. Great causes have often been carried to triumphant suc- cess by ignoble instruments. The seeds of England's great- ness sprang from a soil infested with rank weeds. Truly POLITICAL MORALITY 75 could the essayist Cornwallis write that " against no life doth the force of vice oppose herself and make so strong a preparation as against the life of a statesman. . . . She assaults with the weapons of power, self-love, ambition, corruption, revenge, and fear." ^s IX. THE IDEA OF THE STATE Hardly more than a remote relation exists between the ideas of thinkers and the acts of rulers, for the task of government is not entrusted to philosophers. The neces- sities of policy have always hewn their own course in the most practical of schools. In England before the Seventeenth Century, political philosophers barely existed, for jurists had never been haunted by the same medieval reminders of the Roman Empire as on the continent. The aspects of power had not much in common with the abstract vision of statecraft, and the practice of au- thority was guided solely by the requirements of circum- stance. Little theory stood behind the first Tudor's rule, and his professed wish to lead a crusade was hardly more seri- ously intended than to associate his policy with what- ever was venerable. How real an interest this plan excited may be gauged by the collection taken at court for warfare against the infidel, which realized eleven guineas. Henry VII responded more consciously to the example of the French State, where as a refugee he had been impressed by the advantages of centralization. "He would like to govern England in the French fash- ion, but he cannot" wrote Ayala, the Spanish ambas- sador, to Ferdinand of Aragon.^ The Spaniard did not discern that by far his greatest innovation was the suc- cessful establishment of his own dynasty. The purpose of political thought is always to find a rational basis for the state. Such ideas were often only the dreams of students trained in Roman Law and desiring to fashion an image of government which would respond to this. In Italy the spirit of the Renaissance taught men to reason as well as to act in terms of realism, 76 THE IDEA OF THE STATE -j-j but in England the medieval intellectual inheritance was not so easily thrown off. Even where ideas were modern, the form of their expression remained antiquated. Dudley's "Tree of Commonwealth," written to curry favour with Henry VIII, offers an argument for absolute monarchy. One who had shown himself an extreme realist in his actions, now prated only of ethical consid- erations under the form of medieval allegory. Ideas conveyed by letters are usually more signifi- cant as expressions of an age than as directly influencing those in power. It would be folly to look to any consid- erable intellectual preparation for the policy of Henry VIII was impressed on him under the aspect of personal advantage. Human actions respond more readily to instinct than to reason, and the king's acquisitive tastes had everything to gain from the novel conception of the state. Yet without the ferment of the new ideas preparing such condition as the one from which he was to derive benefit, he would probably never have dared to venture on the course he followed. A prince of negli- gible personality might have made English history take a different turn. If the precise connection between in- dividual character and contemporary ideas can never be established, it suggests a closer study of the prevailing theories of the state than has usually been given. Ever since antiquity, the dream of an ideal state had haunted the imagination of thinkers, and it was natural for the mind of the Renaissance, steeped in classical cul- ture, to concern itself with the same problems. More's *' Utopia" is the most famous, as it is the greatest monu- ment of the political ideals of that age. But its image of the state was too remote from life. More's reasoning, based partly on antiquity, partly original, nor yet wholly uninfluenced by the Middle Ages, pursued an independent course and bore a far looser relation to the age than did the Tudor monarchy. The prince in the Utopian mind was to be a kind of president, elected by secret ballot for 78 TUDOR IDEALS life, but who could be deposed for tyranny. If he forfeited the good will of his subjects, he was to abdicate, for though bearing the name of king, "the majesty is lost."^ More's friend Erasmus held similar ideas when he ar- gued in the "Christian Prince" that if men were perfect, absolute monarchy might be desirable but as this was unlikely, a limited one became preferable. How More in- terpreted his responsible duties was seen when the philos- opher made way for the Chancellor, and the broad toler- ance he had advocated in his writing was replaced by the persecution of heretics. The liberalism of the humanists was not in touch with an age which had just created the omnipotent state and the current was running swiftly toward an even greater interference with the individual. Better than in "Utopia," the conscious political goal of the throne may be understood from a paper written by Edward VI. ^ Those in power have rarely leisure or inclination to express their theory of the state and the ideas of a boy, however precocious, are not easily original. Perhaps because of this they are all the more representative of their time. The young king had been impressed by essays on statecraft, written for his instruction by William Thomas, one of the most cultiva- ted men of his day and the one best versed in Italian let- ters. The ideal before his mind was that of centralization in "one head, one governor, one law." The young prince compared the body politic to the human body in which every organ has its function. As the arm defends the head, so should the gentry with their retainers be ready in defence of their country, while merchants and husbandmen laboured for its sustenance. The upper classes were to be favoured as a state policy though less than in France where the peasantry, the king remarked, was of slight value. The cherished ideal of governmental paternalism aimed to restrain men from amassing undue wealth. No one ele- ment was to hurt the other, and everyone was to be kept bound to his class and to the work he had been born to. THE IDEA OF. THE STATE 79 The weakness of such theorizing, consists in trying to find fixed solutions for rapidly shifting problems. With all its keen perceptions, the Sixteenth Century had not been trained to discern the continuous evolution of forces within the state and the hopelessness of trying to restrain these within artificial channels. Edward VI took the medieval view of the nation as a pyramid of which the throne was the apex. In spite of his declared policy toward the " en- gendering of friendship in all parts of the commonwealth" the remedies he proposed for the prevailing unrest, in- cluded rigid sumptuary laws, while he hurled his wrath against those whom he thought were disturbing elements, interfering with the established order of things. This the- ory of absolute royal supremacy exercised for the welfare of the people, best expressed the Tudor ideal of the state. Ideas which departed from orthodox standards, found few channels for expression, and religious controversies were so violent as to distort the intentions of political reasoning. There existed a school of thought by no means identical with the opinions of those in power, but mainly based on the study of antiquity applied to the conditions of the state. Aristotle's "Politics" provided the fountain head for nearly all political philosophy. Its clear analysis of governmental forms, and imper- sonal discussion of their relative advantages, became a model copied in every country. The first familiarity with the ideas of the ancient world proceeded only from a spirit of imitation. If one excepts More, other writers barely penetrated beyond the commonplaces of thought on the subject, and Sir Thomas Elyot's views are far from profound when compared with those of contemporary Italians. He remained a scholar steeped in classical studies but with insufficient insight to do more than to imitate his masters. His ideas were commonplace, his bias ethical. The conclusions he reached naturally favoured monarchy as the form of government most conducive to order. 8o TUDOR IDEALS Where political thought concerned itself with actual problems, it aimed to analyze in the state the different elements of authority. The modern view of Tudor absolutism was hardly shared by contemporaries. Poli- tical theorists found that, in addition to the monarch- ical principle of the crown, it partook of aristocracy through the councils, and in so far as "the common- alty have their voices and burgesses in Parliament it taketh part also of democratic or popular govern- ment." ^ Certain writers were inclined to look to the aristocracy as the bulwarks of the state,^ but the preference of the majority went to whatever conduced to augmenting the importance of the monarchical principle.^ The crown represented order and stability, midway between the anarchy of the late feudal nobility and the extravagances of an anabaptist democracy. Though the processes of reasoning employed to exalt the throne were remote, the theory was not unsound. The centralizing tendencies of life and the gathering of its activities into larger national aggregates, half consciously, half unconsciously swept all these under the general control of the crown. A student's analysis might still detect different elements in the political complexion of power. Its one reality was that of the crown and everything else merely contributed to magnify this. Other ideas were not of immediate consequence. They represented little more than seed thrown into furrows, and thoughts which, without political importance at the time in England, were a century later to become commonplaces. For identical reasons Protestants in -France and English Catholics advocated restricting the power of the prince. They based their contention on an implied contract existing between prince and sub- jects, and where the former did not derive his rights by their consent his rule was "an unlawful and tyrannical usurpation."^ THE IDEA OF THE STATE 8i In a curious dialogue by Thomas Starkey, an English Catholic writer, Cardinal Pole declares that the excess of royal authority was the worst of evils and argued for the rule of Parliament. The ability of a single man to dis- pense with the laws was the "gate to all tyranny, " With a dig at the Tudor theory, he deprecated the attitude of English kings who "have judged all things pertaining to our realm to hang only upon their will and fantasy."^ He, too, argued in favour of the election of princes, on the ground of their heirs being rarely worthy of high authority, while the English preference for succession by inheritance was attributed to the fact that "we are barbarous."^ Starkey's view was that of Catholic liberalism. He had lived long in Italy and was impressed by the Venetian ex- ample which hedged in the Doge's authority from all sides. His own predilections went toward giving power to a coun- cil composed of churchmen, laymen, and nobles, selected by Parliament and accorded plenary powers. The king was to act as president of such council. But, he added, every government must be suited to its people, and it was not its form but its spirit which made it good or bad. When all members of the body politic worked together for the public good, the commonwealth must flourish. Such ideas were not uncommon. The Polish states- man Grimaldus Goslicius whose book, "The Counsel- lor" was translated into English in 1598, explains that a government is the result of the mental inclination and training of its subjects and precedes Buckle by noticing the influence of climate. He, too, was in favour of a mixed form of government, by the king, senate, and popu- lar consent, thus blending together "the best, the mean, and the base people. " ^° Bishop Poynet, who deserves to rank among the spiritual ancestors of the Commonwealth, was even more violent in advocating means to restrict the power of the prince as "Kings and princes be they never so 82 TUDOR IDEALS great are but members, and commonwealths may stand well enough and flourish albeit there be no kings." He denounced the Spaniards' extermination of the Caribs as due to princes taking "all their subjects' things as their own. "^^ The prince in his opinion ought to be bound by the same moral laws as the private person and should obey the laws which he himself has made. If he robs his subjects it is theft and should be punished as such. If he murders them in violation of the laws, he ought to be punished as a murderer. ^^ The obedience he is able to exact is only for so long as he can command well and wisely, for tyranny ought to be resisted. Radical as were such views, he agreed with the Aristotelian maxim that that commonwealth was best where only one man ruled provided he be good and just. Absolute royal supremacy tempered by wisdom, and directed toward the welfare of the people, came nearest to expressing the Tudor theory of the state. Poynet, like Starkey, was too remote from the somewhat uncritical body of English opinion which applauded the strong hand when it struck impartially, high as well as low. In Scotland the prevailing disorder tended to promote more subversive views. It had been William Major's opinion that as the people first made kings, so the people could dethrone them when they misused their privileges. A poet like William Lauder •could write that between the king and his humblest vassal, no difl^erence existed in the sight of God and if a king transgressed virtue and oppressed his subjects, he was to be deposed from his high place forfeiting crown and sceptre. With the spec- tacle of anarchy before his eyes, the humanist Buchanan was frankly indifferent to the form of government which a people might choose. He believed that the sovereign drew his authority from the law, but this emanated from the people who retained their power of dealing with a king who transgressed it. If the prince should be guilty of any crime he was to be judged by the same law as the private THE IDEA OF THE STATE 83 citizen, and if he refused to submit to trial he became a public enemy and as such might be slain. ^^ The feeling in Lowland Scotland went more easily to ex- tremes than under the strong Tudor rule, Even in Eng- land ran an undercurrent which tried to curb the powers of the crown, and the ancestry of Commonwealth ideas can be traced to the Sixteenth Century. Elizabeth, im- perious as was her nature, wisely gave way before the new trend of popular feeling which was growingly impatient with the swollen powers of the crown. During the debate on monopolies in 1601, when, after outlining her concep- tion of the royal duties as being answerable to God on Judgment Day, she yielded to the Commons and thanked them for having saved her from error, remarking that the State was to be governed for the benefit of those that are committed and not of those to whom it iscommitted.^* From her father's idea of England as a royal estate, Eliz- abeth had advanced toward the modern view. # X. PUBLIC OPINION The chatter of the market-place was little respectful of the mighty in the Middle Ages, but its power was slight, and the scope of its opinion was hampered by the clogged channels of diffusion. Before the Sixteenth Century, English municipal life stood in poor comparison with that of the Italian or Flem- ish cities. The part played by Parliament was only spas- modic. It was exceptional for the middle classes to feel concerned with affairs of state. The people, unless touched by specially onerous taxation or disturbances of their cus- toms, accepted without question the rule of the crown. Public opinion, if it existed at all, remained latent and inarticulate. Our knowledge of the ideas of classes so ex- pressionless becomes positive mainly by its negativeness. At the beginning of the Sixteenth Century it was hardly existent or else inaudible save within a narrow circle. Yet it was destined before many years to become a real force actively influencing the decisions of the state and possessed of roots burrowing deep into the nation. The long anarchy of the Fifteenth Century predisposed Englishmen, after the restoration of order, to accept more readily obedience to authority. So long as nothing oc- curred to disturb the habits of life, government remained easy. Below the surface a rudimentary opinion, which had been inherited from freer and more turbulent times, was quiescent although the Italian traveller who visited England in the year 1500 remarked that if the king pro- posed to change any old established rule, every English- man would think that his life had been endangered thereby.^ The cautious practice of Henry VII shows that he bore 8d PUBLIC OPINION 85 in mind the existence of some such reserve of public opin- ion which he was careful never to disturb. A prince whose prestige was so new, had to be doubly cautious to avoid arousing feeling in violation of any accepted tradition. On the part of his subjects there was little disposition to force the issue. Primarily they wanted order and security, not liberty of speech. Moreover, they were apprehensive of its consequences. Thomas More, on being elected to the speakership, said openly that men were afraid to express themselves, and begged the king to encourage his subjects to do so.^ But the spirit of Tudor statecraft was never in favour of such liberties. Examples of criticism of contemporary events can be found in Skelton's doggerel verse, and in many passages of Kennedy, Lyndsay and Dunbar. Censure in all ages has taken a satiric form, but its popular dress proved in- sufficient to make more than the narrowest appeal. More can be gathered by what was left unsaid in the popular narratives of the time. When such annals as the " London Chronicle" relate events like the execution of Thomas More and Anne Boleyn without comment or relief, when the diary of a comfortably situated merchant tailor of London, like Henry Machyn, betrays the same stolid indif- ference, one draws other deductions. The greatest changes in the state and church were to such pens only occurrences without further significance. They remained either silent or more likely apathetic, finding their real interest in pageants and festivals. In this, they were typical of the immense majority of the population who without awakened opinion were content to remain silent spectators. Even the execution of great nobles, certain of whom like the Duke of Buckingham en- joyed immense popularity, left the public indifferent. The feudal grip had been shattered and they had not yet be- come sufficiently identified with the life of the nation to make an attack on their liberties indistinguishable from those of other subjects. 86 TUDOR IDEALS The direct stimulus to the awakening of public opinion occurred through a series of events mainly fortuitous, yet which, coming at a time when the nation's intelligence was being rapidly developed, created the beginnings of a public conscience. If at first this responded imperfectly, it was because of the essential novelty of the procedure, the unfamiliarity of methods of expression, and the igno- rance of its own strength. Even with such handicaps it threatened the foundations of the throne and made the most imperious of monarchs demean himself in the effort to win opinion to his side. Henry VIII's desire to be rid of Katherine had to take cognizance of the extent to which this shocked his sub- jects. The obedience of the nation, disposed to acquiesce in the most extreme manifestations of royal authority, was stirred by an action which shook the foundations of its life. The king had touched at one of those established rules noticed by the Italian traveller and the most mas- terful prince that ever sat on the English throne, embarked on the most extraordinary act of his reign, found that he had aroused an unsuspected body of adverse opinion. The queen's popularity was never so great, and the crowd thronged to cheer her as she passed. The king found him- self compelled to summon an assemblage of judges, nobles, and citizens in the great hall at Bridewell and there de- fend his course. And later, when urged by an audacious member in Parliament to return to his lawful queen, Henry swallowing his pride, argued with him in defence of his action. The resentment was intense throughout the na- tion. It was sufficient to cause the royal council to begin by opposing his marriage to Anne Boleyn, and find sup- port even from Anne's father who dreaded its conse- quences. William Peto, provincial of the Friars Observ- ant, warjied the king that he was endangering his crown by this, " for great and little were murmuring at it." 3 The king saved himself from the worst consequences of PUBLIC OPINION 87 his audacity by coupling Katherine's cause with the un- popular one of Rome. His victory might have been doubt- ful if he had not been adroit enough so to manoeuvre as to make his policy appear national in opposition to the Pope's wish to mix in English affairs. Almost by acci- dent, the royal divorce called into life the first explosion of public opinion in England. Though the result may seem ineffectual its triumph came by compelling the king to take cognizance of the new force. The different phases attending the divorce, the efforts to enlist common law on the royal side, with Cranmer's plan to collect the opinions of continental scholars, require no description here. They were, perhaps, the first acknowledgment of the force of ideas and the desirability of winning over the public conscience. Something new had arisen in Europe. It was intan- gible and its power was indefinite. But it was important enough for a tyrant like Henry VIII to seek to conciliate it. Imperious as was the royal will, the king who aimed to appear in the light of a popular ruler, endeavoured to placate the force of this opinion and to enlighten the realm about his most intimate doings. It was in the nature of an evilly conceived homage to this feeling that he wrote to Wallop, the English envoy in Paris, to justify the execution of More and Fisher on account of their alleged treason and conspiracy. It was in the nature of a tribute to public opinion, that the trial of Katherine Howard in spite of the prurient details of royal domestic life, took place in public in order that it might not be said that she had been condemned unjustly.* Parliament spasmodically asserted its right to free speech, though limitations were placed on this. It lacked the feeling of its power and except in the matter of grants, was little conscious of its dignity. Possessed of slight corporate realization of authority it formed an aggre- gate of individuals, restricted in the sense of their duties, jealous mainly of their control of appropriations and of 88 TUDOR IDEALS foreign interference, yet in the main subservient to the royal will. Almost as a favour the Speaker of the House would petition for liberty of speech within its precincts.^ And not unnaturally so, since Thomas More's opposi- tion to Henry VIFs request for a grant, had been resented by that prince and came near causing More's execu- tion. That royal ideas of members' independence did not change, was proved by Elizabeth's treatment of Peter Wentworth who having ventured to criticise her church policy^ found his speech sequestered while he was interned in the Tower where later he died a martyr to liberty of speech. The sudden growth in importance of public opinion was partly due to a circumstance of quite different nature, coinciding with the extraordinary events then taking place. With the use of the printing press afford- ing an instrument of diffusion, the isolation of communi- ties came to an end. A movement analogous to the centralized power extending its even authority through the realm, was now rendered possible by the spread of opinion through the printer's press, reaching across frontiers and restricted only by limitations in education. Its significance as an instrument was not immediately realized, though one of the first steps in the strategy of Thomas Cromwell's break from Rome, was the printing in English of Melanchthon's "Apology" and of the Augs- burg Confession. After the agricultural rising in Lincolnshire in 1536, Berthelet the royal printer published Sir John Cheke's "Lamentation" with its argument against civil war as de- structive of the Commonwealth, and denouncing rebel- lion as the greatest of crimes. The first use of the press was largely official, but the possibihty of it being em- ployed by others who wished to excite opinion was soon noticed. Simon Fish's pamphlets against the clergy, although forbidden, were widely hawked about. Numer- PUBLIC OPINION 89 ous anti-clerical and Lutheran tracts were printed by men like William Roy, Jerome Barlow, and reformers returned from the continent. Satirical in form, these broadsides were for the most part directed against the clergy. The Government did its utmost to seize and to suppress them, but never entirely prevented their circulation. Later Mary's Spanish marriage gave further occasion for an explosion of adverse criticism. The new force of public opinion was aroused by an alliance which ap- peared to threaten the national existence. The dividing line between unpopularity and revolt was reached at once with Wyatt's insurrection. Its failure restrained further expressions of disfavour to the ill-treatment of Philip's suite, and the compositions of lampoons which were circulated even at court.^ The fierce hatred then aroused against the Spaniard was later utilized by Eliza- beth as a force with which to build the popularity of her foreign policy. From the middle of the Sixteenth Century, broadsides began to be published with increasing frequency, often in the form of ballads, with puritan and anti-catholic pur- pose. Being cheap, they circulated freely and in the days before newspapers afforded popular entertainment. Be- tween the printing press and public opinion, a connection was now established which awakened the government's at- tention to the need for a censorship, created in the year following Elizabeth's accession. Except for small hand presses granted to each of the Universities, all printing was henceforth to be exclusively in the capital, supervised by the Primate and the Bishop of London, the better to bring it under government control. The charter of the sta- tioners' company distinctly states, that as seditious and heretical books were daily printed which spread their de- testable heresies against the doctrine of the "Holy Mother Church," the government had taken means to see how this might be prevented, and had therefore granted to the ninety-seven members of the Company of Stationers, the 90 TUDOR IDEALS sole right of printing, seizing and burning all prohibited books and of imprisoning persons who should print with- out this authority.^ Except for clandestine pamphlet literature, which the government tried to suppress, the popular preachers were almost alone in daring to speak their minds, and even to tell royalty what was current in men's mouths. The preacher in the Sixteenth Century not only expressed but led public opinion. Regarding himself as spiritually descended from the prophets of Israel, he felt that a power given by God lay in his hands, which it was his duty to use before kings. ^ Thomas Cromwell fearing such tendencies had restricted the right of preaching to priests who received crown licenses. This was not sufficient to restrain their out- spokenness. Father Peto's frankness before Henry VIII had led to his expulsion from England. The same mon- arch, however, selected Latimer to be one of his chap- lains, although the latter never hesitated in his words and reminded the king that it was the preacher's duty to reprove the mighty. Elizabeth with her view of the clergy as crown officials was less tolerant of their liberties. The freedom and often tyranny of speech, which the Scottish ministry used toward their princes, was blamed south of the Tweed as "not only undecent but intolerable, for he may do noth- ing, but they will examine and discuss the same in the pulpit." ^° Certainly, John Knox in his invectives against the two Marys, lost all sense of measure when he declared that the nobility of both countries were inferior to the beasts of the field because of their subjection to women and advocated executing for impiety, anyone capable of defending a woman's rule.^^ In such explosions there was little sense of fair play which springs from the feeling of equity arising in less violent times. The lack of restraint was typical of the means of expression. Intensity of conviction gave a fierce tone to all controversy. Bacon, himself the most reason- PUBLIC OPINION 91 able of men, defended this when he wrote that "Bitter and earnest writing must not hastily be condemned; for men cannot contend civilly and without affectation, about things which they hold dear and precious." ^^ There were other tests to be applied to such disputes. Grooves of action exist as well as of thought, and even those indifferent in matters of faith, found it necessary to harness their deeds to religious causes. Under the guise of creed all kinds of questions could be broached and men and policies attacked from behind their religious shelter. The violence of opinion which raged around theological controversies was reflected in the mass of pamphlets known as the Martin Marprelate Controversy, of which one side emanated from the secret presses. The bishops, with official support behind them, identified their own position with the throne. They executed John Penry, but realizing that mere repressive measures of authority were insufficient, and that the growing force of public opinion had to be reconciled, enlisted in their aid the lit- erary hacks of London. For the first time in England professional means ex- isted for doing this — pamphleteers able to use their pens trenchantly and a public which read their productions. Involved and unreadable as the pamphlets of Greene and Nash, of Lodge and Dekker, now seem, they were the be- ginnings of an appeal made to win over the new force of opinion. The wider diffusion of education caused a novel inter- est to be taken in such matters. With the growth of a reading public, writers treated all kinds of questions. Elizabeth herself was greatly vexed by a book written against the French marriage, severely criticising her.^^ The dispute which raged around it shows that opinion was far from unanimous. " Leicester's Commonwealth " with its attack on the royal favourite is the first great example of English scurrilous literature. 92 TUDOR IDEALS The printing press was increasingly utilized as an in- strument for the diffusion of ideas. As it was no longer possible to ignore the new policy of the government was to rely on a public opinion which it hoped to form. The queen's desire for popularity and the wish to find her aims in harmony with her subjects, stood behind the declarations which accompanied royal actions. The crit- ical moments of her reign, as well as the inauguration of new policies, were attended by the publication of explan- ations which came out under official inspiration. After the execution of Mary Stuart there appeared the "Jus- tification of Queen Elizabeth. " When the laws were pro- mulgated against priests and Jesuits, there was published the "Great Troubles pretended against the Realm by a number of Seminary Priests and Jesuits." The use of torture also evoked sufficient reprobation to make ad- visable an official explanation. Burleigh employed John Stubbes to answer Cardinal Allen, and indicated his anti-Roman policy by publishing "Justitia" in English, Latin, French and Italian. Before going to the aid of the Low Countries, or to that of the Huguenots in France, a "Declaration of the causes moving the Queen of Eng- land to give aid" appeared in explanation of such policy. An official defence of Essex's expedition to Cadiz was published. The government realized that it was necessary to give some attention to guide public opinion along approved channels in order to prevent its wandering beyond these. From the precautions taken it is evident that the drama was thought capable of influencing ideas. Plays had to be licensed and playwrights were forbidden to touch on matters of religion or the state. It is notorious that the censor suppressed certain pages in Holinshed's Chronicle, while Shakespeare in " Richard II " incurred displeasure by portraying the conquered king making his sub- mission. On the eve of his rising, Essex caused this play to be given in the hope that the deposition and PUBLIC OPINION 93 murder of a king might encourage an outbreak. Later in conversation with the antiquary William Lambarde, Queen Elizabeth complained that it had been played for this purpose "forty times in open streets and houses. " XL THE SPIRIT OF REVOLT The weakening of authority which marked the end of the Middle Ages in England left habits of lawlessness not easily shaken off. The disorder of the realm had been arrested by the firm rule of Henry VII, but the practices developed during a century of anarchy stamped their mark on the nation. Except for resort to force, the means for manifesting opposition were scanty and ineffectual. The importance of Parliament was still slight in the life of the country. It might disapprove of the king's forfeiture of his enemies' property but, willingly or not, it passed such acts. The upshot of Sir Thomas More successfully opposing a parliamentary grant to Henry VII for his daughter's marriage, was to find his father locked in the Tower on a trumped-up charge.^ Opposition to the crown had to find expression in less legal ways. The vast changes which swept over Tudor England could hardly take place without affect- ing the convictions, the loyalty, or the economic condi- tion of the population. Amid far reaching transfor- mations it was not difBcult to touch the springs of former lawlessness with its reliance on force. Any appeal to dissatisfaction found abundant causes for grievance. By an odd paradox, the crown resting on a loftier pin- nacle than ever before, with far more potent means of defence and authority, was more than ever apprehen- sive for its own existence. This was the result of an age which to accomplish its purposes resorted to direct- ness of means unhampered by scruple or fear. The force of authority attempted by every instrument of terror to deter men from revolt. The hideous punish- ment inflicted on rebels, the confiscation of the traitor's 94 THE SPIRIT OF REVOLT 95 property, the risk to which he exposed his wife and chil- dren, were cruel expedients resorted to by the crown in order to intimidate. In the main they proved no more effective than in Ireland where it became customary for prospective rebels to convey all their landed estates to trustees, preserving only a life interest in them.^ The reason for the failure of revolts was due not to any lack of attempts but to causes of another nature. The pretext of revolution was nearly always based on supposed loyalty. The throne was sacred. Indignation against the rightful king was never admitted but only against the royal advisers. It was nominally loyal as in the case of the " Pilgrimage of Grace. " Bacon remarks how it was a common practice for seditious subjects to attack not the sovereign, but those who had authority under him. The seeds of opposition could always find ground under the most lavish professions of loyalty. Monarchy exercised too great a prestige among the masses to give open rebellion much chance of success. Wyatt's revolt, based on the fear of foreign domina- tion, failed, because the feeling of loyalty was too strong among the people. This, more than any other reason, wrecked every revolution. Discontent arose from taxation as in the case of the Cornish rising, or sympathy for the Church as in the Lincolnshire movement, and the rebellion in the West, under Edward VI. It acquired a local head, gathered impetus and by collecting the forces of unrest, became more or less troublesome, but the end was always the same. Although hardly a county of England was free from revolt at one time or another during the reigns of the Tudors, such movements never coincided, and the crown was always able to handle each insurrection sepa- rately. In this sense it stood for the national power while the spirit of revolution was generally one of local anarchy. The main reason why revolt was never successful may perhaps be found in its cause, invariably coming 96 TUDO§ IDEALS from the wrong direction. The attempts at revolution, when not stirred from without, were always conserva- tive in purpose and for most part aimed against new measures or conditions. The Tudors, by their construc- tive innovations, had forced the instinct of revolt into reactionary channels. Its spirit was never that of a movement trying to bring about definite reforms in government. The goal was nearly always toward reaction and its tendency would have been to hinder the march of progress in the nation. Such as it was, the spectre of revolution caused all the Tudors serious anxiety. Even in Elizabeth's latter years the fear of revolt, due to fiscal exactions, was among the causes which made Burleigh desirous for peace with Spain.^ Apprehensions of this nature could not have been idle fears. The Tudors were doubtless far more conscious than we can be to-day, of how slender was the margin of safety in their rule, and how great was the risk of giving rein to the forces of unrest. What now seem almost gratuitous acts of cruelty in suppressing revolt, may therefore have been due to a political necessity which took little heed of mercy. As all power emanated from the royal person, so court intrigue was the most insidious form of rebellion. Henry VII with clear political sense realized this. Though he suppressed the Cornish rising with amazing mildness, when he detected conspiracy nearer the throne, not even the immense obligations he felt under to Sir William Stanley could save the latter's head. The cruel treason laws under which Fisher and Thomas More had suffered showed how preoccupied was the crown with the thought of preventing revolt. The belief of the age was expressed in the words that out of subjects' fears grew princes' safety. The problem of government was how to accom- plish this without incurring the charge of tyranny.^ Expedients of different nature were resorted to. A draft in the handwriting of Edward VI is extant which THE SPIRIT OF REVOLT 97 planned to make Knights of the Garter swear on their investiture to reveal all conspiracies against the sovereign head of their order. ^ The sense of loyalty diminished as the person of the prince was approached, and the latter, who scented the waning affection of his environment was perhaps inclined to exaggerate the danger. With a people like the Eng- lish, the coup d'etat was almost out of question. The scope of the individual, however highly placed, was not the same as in Italy or even in France. Especially in Elizabeth's reign, great established forces existed to contend with, and it was well-nigh impossible to win men over from their comfortable inertia to the uncer- tainty of revolt. Essex, who found his example at the Valois Court, hoped in the queen's declining years to seize the reins of power. His action was ill prepared and spasmodic. Although personally most popular with the Londoners, they dreaded the loss of their prop- erty and discovered that profit and loyalty coincided. He could gain no supporters in the city. The old spirit of turbulence had gone out of the nation and Essex' quarrel was too personal for men to risk their lives for him. His action was at the time compared to that of the Guises entering Paris with a few followers and rous- ing the capital. But in England the crown was power- ful enough to handle any emergency. Above all there ruled a woman of decision. What might have succeeded if weaker heads had been in authority never came to pass. The spirit of revolt remained latent throughout the age. Though its action was never successful, it was close to the surface in readiness to break out. It was always in the minds of political thinkers. When Crowley advo- cated forcible resistance to the enclosure of the com- mons, he wrote that "we must needs fight it out or else be brought to like slavery that the Frenchmen are in." ^ Later one of Sidney's arguments against the French marriage was the danger it presented of reducing the 98 TUDOR IDEALS English people to the level of French peasants and bringing in a servile tyranny with its attendant peril of popular inundation.^ In contrast to the many who exalted royalty were a few who disparaged it. Such arguments were often cath- olic and controversial, emanating from Rome and Douai. They were none the less put forward by Englishmen and were as typical of the lack of moderation of the age and of the violence of ideas unhindered by restraint or compromise, as were the advocates of divine right. Those who advanced them, condemned the servility of doctrines of absolutism and ridiculed the idea of kingship being inherent in the state of nature or existing since the beginning of the world. They argued that common- wealths retained their authority to chasten and remove kings and even cut off their heads.^ The author of "A Conference" cites the long list of deposed English monarchs from John to Richard III. If this was not lawful, he exclaims, it would be necessary to disavow their successors' acts. Catholic writers seeking to under- mine the authority of Elizabeth, advanced a theory of revolution, which found its realization in the days of the Puritan Commonwealth. In the contemporary drama also, there are indications of the latent turbulence below the surface. Englishmen were proud of their martial virtues. They recognized the need of a firm hand and gladly accepted its rule so long as it remained strong and not unduly oppressive. But the disposition to revolt at weakness or injustice was never far removed. With the poets' quick intelligence, Marlowe appreciated this spirit in his nation. The Scy- thian shepherd Tamburlaine reviles, without mercy, the fugitive king and then wins the crown for himself. When Chosroes revolts against his brother, the King of Persia, the latter is made to say: ** Kings are clouts that every man shoots at." THE SPIRIT OF REVOLT 99 The playwright's choice of historical subjects kept alive the remembrance of former days when the nobles curbed the royal power. In representing the humiliation of the kings they created an unconscious link between the drama which the Puritans abhorred and their own later revo- lution. Young Mortimer declares in Marlowe's line that when commons and nobles join, the king cannot resist them.^ In the anonymous play of " Edward I," occurs a signif- icant passage which flattering the popular audience be- trays this undercurrent of restlessness and readiness to revolt. "The people of this land are men of war, The women courteous, mild, and debonair; Living their lives at princes' feet That govern with familiar majesty. But if this sovereign once 'gin swell with pride Disdaining commons love which is the strength And sureness of the richest commonwealth That prince were better live a private life Than rule with tyranny and discontent." (I, 247, sq.) PART II THE INDIVIDUAL I. THE NEW INDIVIDUALISM British medieval imperialism had been defeated by- French nationalism. Thrown back on itself, England was to pass through a self-centred phase. After every great disaster when a nation is shaken to its roots, former conventions lose their prestige. The structure which generations have patiently built up, crumbles, leaving only the rock foundation. Calamities arise from many causes but their results are always the same. When au- thority, whatever its origin, is deprived of that union of power and prestige which makes for orderly government, and becomes unequal to the task of justifying its own existence, it invites a defiance which in turn leads easily to anarchy and civil war. The medieval system collapsed when no longer able to restrain the pressure of forces which refused to fit into its groove. Feudalism, admirably adjusted for a some- what primitive military society, became unable to cope with the new problems arising from a nation growing in strength, even amid reverses. It was less England that had been expelled from France than its barons. It was less England that suffered from the effects of anarchy in the Fifteenth Century than its feudal leaders with their henchmen. Hence arose the strange phenomenon of a nation which on the surface was ravaged by disorder and civil war, yet whose humbler elements in silence were preparing the greatness of the morrow. While the barons were consuming themselves in their quarrels, London and Bristol merchants were growing rich. When Henry Tudor placed the crown on his head, the real rev- olution he effected was less the result of victory, which as leader of the Lancastrians he had won, than in putting 103 I04 TUDOR IDEALS himself at the head of the new England arising out of the ashes of the old. English medieval imperialism had done much to re- fine and civilize England. The long contact with France and the continent encouraged a continuous interchange of ideas and tastes. When this was broken, England became insular again and its civilization suffered in consequence. The English moral nature touched rock bottom and appeared again with rude and primitive virtues and failings. This was the nationalism of the age. It was intolerant, conservative, aggressively reac- tionary, with little sympathy for all that was not shaped in its ownlmage. So far as it possessed any intellectual foundation, it felt instinctively its low capacity of satu- ration, with the fear lest the absorption of foreign ingredi- ents should threaten its character. It cared only to per- petuate its dull self as if the world could produce nothing nobler. All this was roughly true not only of England during the Fifteenth Century, but of every country trav- ersing a dangerous crisis when men turn to the crude virtues which spring from homely roots. It was the peculiar merit of the Tudors to have taken the lead in guiding the English nation from the danger of its self-centredness. Their policy was partly deliber- ate, even more unconscious, but the result was the same. Aiming to increase their own security and enhance their power, the effect was to rescue England by novel means from the narrow path into which it had strayed. Tudor policy deliberately destroyed or reduced those intermediate forms of collective authority which had arisen during the Middle Ages, and had previously stood between the individual and the prince. Out of the dust of ruins a fresh edifice of power was built whose first beneficiary was the prince. What others lost he gained. The expanded position of the nation centred in him at the same time as his individual authority rose to an un- precedented height. But the immensity of office proved THE NEW INDIVIDUALISM 105 too great and single-handed he could not humanly take full advantage of the prize won. Unwittingly royal policy favoured the development of individualism in its subjects. Intent to destroy the power of venerable institutions, the alternative lay in recogniz- ing the power of man. The crown, averse to strength- ening an already created order, was obliged to have re- course to individuals to carry out its policies, and though it tried to treat these as servile tools, at the first oppor- tunity they escaped from such dependence. The brief reign of Edward VI showed to what lengths the ambition of those around the throne could go. The new individu- alism, vigorous and energetic, was everywhere pushing its way. The growth of power was swift and the rigidity or prestige of new institutions in unsettled times was still insufficiently developed to stand in the path of forceful unscrupulousness. Consciously and unconsciously the spirit of the age con- duced to a new development of personality. The Ren- aissance had taught man his moral worth and dignity, its opportunities had favoured the assertion of his wildest dreams. Suddenly the atmosphere about him became enlarged. At a time when the prince's tyranny was greatest, by a strange paradox liberty arose out of the equality of opportunity presented by the t^ovel conditions of life. The old horizons had been brushed aside and so long as man refrained from challenging the prince's power he was free to roam at will in any field. This general condition was characteristic of the Renais- sance through Western Europe. But on the continent after the first great wave had passed bearing the new in- dividualism as a doctrine of life, religious wars brought about fresh collective groupings created under the pres- sure of necessity. In England, however, new ideas of indi- vidualism had been grafted on a stock whose natural tradition inclined to rough independence. Soon they ac- quired the force of a national trait. Favoured by policy io6 TUDOR IDEALS and the culture of the Renaissance, individualism has been at the root of much of England's greatness, of its enter- prise and daring, its fortitude, and its sense of human justice. It has also been the partial cause for that spirit of isolation which continental nations have so often re- proached. The individualism common to the whole of Europe in the Sixteenth Century, was for historical reasons able to survive mainly in England where it passed into the fibre of the race. The adjustability of the English system owes its origin to this recognition of individual rights, unham- pered by the oppression of any institution or caste. The bitterness of class hatred which so often left its shadow on the continent was little known in England owing to the broadness of this principle dating from Tudor times. The tolerance of English ideas has come from what is perhaps the most characteristic feature of the British na- ture, a practical outlook of life which disregards theory, and a peculiar talent for compromise which is its result. Devotion to abstract ideas has never formed part of the English creed. Added to this, neither the ideals of the Renaissance, nor of the Reformation, were indigenous to British soil. Both were of foreign origin and as such, both attached to themselves weaker loyalties than in the lands of their birth. Their currents, moreover, traversing English life ran in opposite directions. The first pursued its downward course from court to people, the second took an upward line from people to court. Vertical progresses in the path of ideas usually mean a series of adjustments before these are able to break through from one layer to the other. England compromised with Luther just as it had compromised with Pagan antiquity, nationalizing both, so to speak, and making both assume English dress. The Sixteenth Century in England was marked less by the fertility of new ideas than of new energies. It is, per- haps, a peculiarity of the British genius to accommodate to its purposes the ideas of others. Just as in statecraft the THE NEW INDIVIDUALISM 107 French example was deliberately imitated by the new Tudor monarchy, so in every path by which the genius of the age was marked, foreign inspiration can be traced. Whether in navigation, or in the drama. Englishmen borrowed from abroad the invention and the plots of others. In this, the English mind followed instinct rather than theory. It attained enduring effects partly because of native virtues, partly favoured by circumstance, but partly, too, because untroubled with the labour of dis- covery, it was able to take results ready made, incorpo- rate these in every degree of assimilation, and strike out at once in its quest for success. The excess of individualism which for a time ran riot was restrained by a series of compromise measures. In the effort to create a better organized state, class interest as in all new countries tended to follow lines of property. To this extent the second half of the Sixteenth Cen- tury marked a reaction from the somewhat capricious individualism of the first. The liberating breath of the Renaissance descending lower, spread itself through great classes hitherto un- touched. Long after the new ideas had ceased to mean more than a cultivated education for the upper classes, their influence entered like a serum into the blood of the English race to bring forth the magnificent explosion of Elizabethan genius. The Virgin Queen herself, to dub her by the most questionable of all her virtues, reigned over an epic age when life became an adventure. The de- scendants of the archers of Crecy were to sail Drake's ships, and greater riches were to come from across the seas than were ever looted from the towns of France. Instead of a pilgrimage to Canterbury, the poet's im- agination could make London prentices behold Cleopatra. When in a later generation Cromwell dared to strike the anointed king, there was behind him and his victim, in precept and in act, the daring of the Renaissance. io8 TUDOR IDEALS The national characteristics of the English in the Six- teenth Century, were the traits exhibited by a vigorous and gifted race who, after a long intellectual somnolence, were suddenly aroused and quickened by a succession of such forces as have always stirred mankind. Adven- ture, ambition, and patriotic feeling were the impulses, a free horizon and boundless opportunity the condition, and a fresh outlook with its vision of new worlds, the atmosphere. Englishmen reacted to these just as Italians, Frenchmen, and Spaniards had reacted. Circumstance, and those indefinables which escape analysis, turned the English genius in its most enduring form toward ad- venture in act and in imagination. The world of poets and the world of mariners seemed young again when brightened by the new life. In this sense the permanent records of that time were written in the very ink of the Renaissance. English blood had changed little in the interval, but its pulse beat stronger and its quality had grown richer with the spirit of the new age. 11. THE GROWTH OF PERSONALITY In the Middle Ages human introspection took a cleri- cal garb. Laymen had not yet learned to record their sensations, and observation remained impersonal with traces of anonymity lingering far into the new age. The novelty of the Sixteenth Century in England lay in the human outlook extending over a wider horizon than ever before. In thought and in action, fresh perspec- tives opened, and out of these were formed new ideals which shaped the sailor, the poet, the statesman, and the soldier. Genius is in itself independent of any age, but its expression never lies far remote from the channels of its energy. Hamlet could not have been written before England had ripened into the fulness of her own humanity. , The threads of this development are not easy to unravel. Men's grosser reactions to environment can be followed, but the subtler influences of human evolution remain obscure. The flow of ideas and varying nature of their pressure become elusive so soon as one seeks to pierce beyond the surface. The intellectual history of the Sixteenth Century in Eng- land, was not so much one of originality, as of the ex- tension of ideas into channels previously unknown. The outlook on life alters less readily by direction than un- consciously or by circumstance, and the novelty of the age arose through the transformation of a medieval tradi- tion as soon as it had been brought into sight of fresh horizons. The new political, religious, and geographical conditions, which arose haphazardly, all reacted on the mind of the age to bring about something novel which made the work of reconstruction soon out-distance the destruction of the ancient fabric. 109 no TUDOR IDEALS There are moments in the lives of nations when these renovate themselves and shed the encumbrances of a past no longer in relation with actual conditions. The Sixteenth Century was an age when men were most sensitive to impressions. Amid the chaos of new ideas the English for a time lost their moorings. They had shaken off Rome without entirely replacing it. They had shaken off scho- lastic discipline without finding its equivalent in antiq- uity. The old sanctions had been destroyed but new ones had not yet filled their place. Confusion marked the first half of the century in Eng- land. Crude and ill-digested ideas of power, and of creed, bore little relation to the gropings of the nation. The result became apparent in the contradictory aspects of life, the wide extremes between ideals and practice, and the deep rifts which then separated the community. A feeling of restless insecurity set in, little conducive to the growth of finer aspirations. The brilliant dawn of the early Re- naissance in England was followed by a grey sky. For half a century the country seemed at a standstill. Many men of that age remained baffled by events they could not explain. They suffered or profited by results which in themselves seemed mysterious. To-day, in the light of another perspective, the great figures of Eng- lish history appear less as originators of new forces than as diverting these to their own benefit. The first half of the Sixteenth Century proved a period of adjustment necessarily rough and incomplete between two ages at dif- ferent levels. The work of destruction and of expansion proceeded side by side, advanced or retarded according to circumstance or design, but resulting in a continuous transformation. The moral disorder characterizing it was almost inseparable from an epoch which had lost its bearings. During these years, a variety of circumstances of dif- ferent order coincided to free the individual from his early horizon and open before him new perspectives. The dis- THE GROWTH OF PERSONALITY in covery of antiquity, of America, and the revolt from Rome, form the elementary commonplaces of such observation. But vast changes come about less by conscious than by silent action. We are prone to remark only the great landmarks of the past. The enumeration of universally recognized facts, does not lead much beyond these, and their direct influence may even mislead. After the revelation which the discovery of antiquity had been to the early humanists, save for a select few it became merely an accepted system of education, handed down to our own day almost as meatless as the medieval scholastic discipline it replaced. The fastidious taste of classical scholarship exercised little direct influence on the English mind though its indirect and popular reactions were of greater value. The Ancient World lived again only when the public took crude hold of it in much the same way as it seized on any new fashion to make it part of life. In matters of faith we are apt to think of Henry VIII's break from Rome as part of the broad movement of Augs- burg and Geneva. But far from leading men to think out the problem of their salvation, the Reformation in Eng- land, for the vast majority of the population, meant merely exchanging foreign papal supremacy for the national one of the crown. The official movement, save for one brief period, settled down into the comfortable doctrine of an established church. The fact that crown and people were for the most time in unison, took sharpness out of a strug- gle which was mainly carried on by catholic martyrs and puritan extremists. The more complete is the acceptance of great ideas the more negligible they become, for character develops from the clash of principle. The moral fibre of the nation was to be afl^ected more by the Puritan struggle under the Stuarts, than by the easy victory of the Tudor Reforma- tion. So little had the essentials of life then altered that many still believe Shakespeare to have been a Catholic, while from his writings it is impossible to discern his creed. 112 TUDOR IDEALS The growth of personaHty was due not so much to ob- vious and oft-cited causes as to less conspicuous reasons. Great events introduced new elements into life, but these remained beyond the nation's ken so long as they were not assimilated by the silent workings of unseen reactions. To render them so they had first to be broken up by means which often made them unrecognizable from their original form. New ideas in themselves were insufficient. A few enthusiasts might grasp their meaning, but to the bulk of the nation they continued alien and indigestible. Those instincts inherent in any healthy people which make for its unity and form the unsconscious fibre of its national- ism, were refractory to direct proselytism from abroad. The Renaissance could sweep over Italy like a new gospel because it revived there the glories of its own past and continued its traditions. In England it found its welcome mainly at the court which stood above the roots of na- tional life and by its reception of novelties unconsciously performed a function of usefulness in the state. But be- low it in the broadening circles of the English people the spirit of the Renaissance met with a travesty of compre- hension which transformed its nature. The genius of the nation lay in transforming the mix- ture of foreign and native traits and blending them together in every stage of assimilation. Often the want of under- standing helped them to become English. In this sense the very blunders committed acted as a flood gate which kept out the tide from abroad. Foreign ideas entered into the national life, misunderstood, and acquired their British denizenship less by comprehension than by error — for error is as great a factor in human evolution as is understanding. And error also possesses its utility in human progress. A more discriminating sense of the meaning of the Renais- sance would have produced a greater scission in England between those who felt the revelation of its baptism and the barely awakened mass who remained beyond its ken. The fact that its grasp was restricted to a few cour- THE GROWTH OF PERSONALITY 113 tiers and classical scholars at the Universities without other influence on the nation, allowed England to acquire the lessons of antiquity not from the reading of purists but by mistakes which were common to all. The growth of personality was due less to imitation than to the adaptation of new influences reacting on novel circumstances. The Tudor princes recognized the full significance of these and placed themselves astride the currents of the age. But the reactions proved greater than even their foresight could realize. England was touched in its most sensitive fibre, and out of a strange medley, noble and base, a richer life was born. New ideas are always most vigorous with their first har- vest. The vitality of the nation had for so many years been treasured up almost unexpended, that it could sud- denly display itself with exuberant vigour. The rich per- sonalities of the age sprang from a strong people who after having long been starved in their ideas, and imprisoned within a narrow outlook, experienced the sensation of freedom produced by a broader perspective. Suddenly the nation found its soul in the least expected way. It was steadied by the menace of foreign danger and buoyed up by the new discoveries overseas. When after St. Bar- tholomew, Protestant hopes crumbled in France, Eng- land assumed the leadership of the cause. The Protes- tant continent turned to Elizabeth in the great fight with Spain, and when finally she emerged victorious, it was not merely that her arms had triumphed, but that something had been acquired in the mental horizon of men, which came not from books but from a new knowledge of the world. Scholarly England lagged be- hind other states of Western Europe, but Englishmen were then many with a broad outlook over the world beyond the seas and with a mental view which came more from events than out of books. The real lesson of the Renaissance is not to be found in the learning of its scholars but in the breadth of view 114 TUDOR IDEALS which urged men to dare all. When this had been achieved its true spirit had been assimilated into English life. The growth of personality in the Sixteenth Century was thus the product of two circumstances of different nature contributing to one result. The first had come from the destruction of the past — feudalism, monasticism, scholas- ticism, Rome — the veneration or affection for all had been destroyed. But out of the ruins, another structure had arisen built largely with former materials blended with the new. England became conscious of being embarked on a new enterprise. Patriotism was exalted, greed was awak- ened by the hope of wealth, a new world without owner- ship was open to whoever dared, and Englishmen dared the venture. These were the main conditions which gave a freer rein to personality and encouraged the growth of that splendid expansion of the mind working in its achieve- ment through an ever-widening circle. It was carried out among a people still living among old traditions though ruled from above with the spirit of the Renaissance. At any other time the transformation which then took place would have been attended by far graver consequences as in France and in Germany. The weaker royal power might not have succeeded in guiding it before. Later the people would have found more strength to curb their masters. The extraordinary events of the first half of the Sixteenth Century in England were rendered possible by the development of the crown preceding that of the people. The expansion which threw such brilliancy on the latter years of the century, was due to the people having caught up in the race with their rulers, and conditions existing for the first time which allowed a free outlet for the energy of all. III. THE VICISSITUDES OF FORTUNE Strong men shape their opportunities best during pe- riods of swift change, and the dissolution of the medieval structure in England left conditions fluid enough to fa- vour the rise of the individual. Success leaves its origins quickly behind and the remembrance of Bosworth Field alone lingered after the early years passed by Henry Tudor as a tracked and penniless refugee in Brittany with hardly a shred of title to the throne, had been for- gotten. His example encouraged others in audacity. No Casanova went through stranger vicissitudes than the son of the Tournai boatman Perkin Warbeck, simu- lating the murdered Duke of York, and accepted at courts as a royal pretender. Far more than the cautious Tudor, his demeanour gave men the impression of kingliness. His wife of Scottish blood royal was devoted to him. Even in adversity he found admirers and when led through London a spectacle fey the multitude, the crowd remarked that he bore his misfortune bravely. The vicissitudes in fortune of women like Anne Boleyn or Katherine Howard could hardly be paralelled in any other age. In Byzantium, women even of the lowest origin had attracted the prince's fancy and shared with him the purple. But never before could a woman like Anne Boleyn from inconspicuous beginnings have become the centre of discord for Christian Europe, only to be destroyed by the same hand which raised her. The royal power had been elevated to such a pitch that whatever touched it rose to sink as quickly again when favour ceased. For whoever was born under the shadow of the throne or approached it, life was near to danger. When Lord Burleigh was accused, in a contemporary libel of the wish "5 ii6 TUDOR IDEALS to marry his grandchild William Cecil to Lady Arabella Stuart, Bacon could find no better argument to demon- strate the falsity of the charge than to say that Lord Burleigh's wisdom taught him " to leave to his posterity rather surety than danger. Marriage with the blood royal was too full of risk to be lightly entered into. " Few there were of any prominence free from moments of grave peril. Four women during the Sixteenth Cen- tury claimed the English throne, the two Marys, Lady Jane Grey, and Elizabeth. Two lived in danger of their lives and two ended theirs on the scaffold. Elizabeth many years after told a French ambassador that while a pris- oner at Woodstock, she felt certain that she would be executed, and made up her mind to ask in sole request of her sister Mary, that instead of an axe, a sword be used as in France, and a French executioner be sent for from Calais.^ Later as queen she lived in expectation of assassination. The vicissitudes of her own experience could not do otherwise than react on a character which re- mained unsoftened. The memory of her mother disgraced and executed, herself declared illegitimate, and passed over in the succession, stamped her personality. Re- plying to a petition of Parliament, she dwelt on her expe- riences of the world. She had known what it was to be a subject and what to be a sovereign. She had found trea- son and distrust and ingratitude. She took little pleasure in life and saw little terror in death.^ Below the throne men rose from nothing, tasted the sweets of power, and returned to nothing. Wolsey's elevation to an authority which was Oriental if it had not been Renaissance, was almost as precipitate as his fall. He accepted his disgrace like a Moslem fatalist. When summoned to surrender his seal of office and give up his belongings no word of blame escaped him. He wished the world to know that as his riches and honours had come from the king it was his duty to surrender all to him.^ His attendant and biographer Cavendish, com- THE VICISSITUDES OF FORTUNE 117 ments in Eastern fashion on his fall. It was folly to ex- press surprise at this, for it rested in the order of events. Even more precipitate was the career of Thomas Cromwell. The son of a Putney blacksmith, he had been an inconspicuous soldier of fortune in Italy, a trader, a money-lender and a lawyer. He had been employed by the great Cardinal and risen with his fall. He had been used by the king and adorned his throne with the wealth and power of the Church, till the royal favour forsaking him his head had rolled on the scaffold. The French traveller Perlin, during his visit to London in 1558, was impressed by the uncertainty of English life. One day, he remarked, one sees a man as a great lord, the next he is in the hands of an executioner. The Jesuit Parsons, enumerated the mighty, executed or degraded under Henry VIII — two queens, Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard, three Cardinals, Wolsey, Pole and Fisher, the last beheaded, three dukes "put down," Buckingham, Suffolk and Norfolk, the first two losing lands and lives, the last lands and liberty, a marquess, Devonshire, two earls, Kildare and Surrey, the latter be- headed, two countesses condemmed to death, Devon- shire and Salisbury, the latter executed, while of peers he mentions Darcy, Hersey, Montagu, Leonard Grey, Dacres of the South and Cromwell. All this within the space of twenty years and in peace.* As is still the case in Oriental states where rule is personal, the visible and invisible structure of restraint had not yet grown to limit the full scope of either success or disfavour. The emergence of free personality in the Renaissance began by giving an unchecked bridle to the prince's authority with the resulting suppression of those who had lost his favour. The first condition of disgrace was the forfeiture of property, but death was close at hand even to those who felt themselves most secure. The ebb of the same tide which carried them high was often the cause for their undoing. ii8 TUDOR IDEALS Such conditions came from the prince's swollen power reacting on a situation of insufficient stability or tradi- tion. The crown had drawn as a magnet some of the best, the indifferent and the worst elements in the realm, and these ill-fused and with spheres ill-defined, clashed incoherently around the royal person. The still imma- ture structure of the state had not yet caught up with the over rapid expansion of life. The authority which filled the uncharted spaces, favoured the precipitate rise in fortune of those able to profit by their oppor- tunities. National evolution had not yet reached a point where the margin of fortune was reduced to the conventional and orderly proportions of more stable times. Such sudden changes quickened the pulse of feeling and lent a dramatic quality to life. The contemporary Sir Robert Naunton, described Raleigh's career in words which could be applied to many others, that fortune had used him as a tennis ball; "for she tossed him up of nothing and to and fro to greatness and from thence down to little more than that wherein she found him. " ^ Raleigh himself said finely, " For conversation of partic- ular greatness and dignity there is nothing more noble and glorious than to have felt the force of every fortune. . . . He only is to be reputed a man whose mind can- not be puffed up by prosperity nor dejected by any ad- verse fortune." ^ The prevalence of such vicissitudes reacted on charac- ter. They freed energy by opening high perspectives and infused a finer temper of courage, by making the men of that age ripen in an atmosphere of danger. But the same atmosphere also produced fatalism and a callous- ness to the misery of others. When peril menaced all, men became indifferent to it. Personality acquired both a greater elasticity and a hardening sheath. It grew richer through nearness to extremes and the rapid passage through many phases. Some played like gam- THE VICISSITUDES OF FORTUNE 119 biers with life, for the age was as acquisitive as it was venturesome and many risked all for the wish to gain. Daring adventure, the power to will and stake all, if need be, on a single throw of the dice, arrogance in prosperity, fortitude in disaster were the traits held up for admiration. The same characteristics which had once gained a throne were now diffused by the Renais- sance spirit descending into an ever-widening circle. "That like I best that flies beyond my reach" says Marlowe's Guise.^ Sir Thomas Stukely, pirate, adventurer, even traitor to his sovereign, was a popular hero, in whose mouth Peele puts the doctrine of virtu: "There shall no action pass my hand or sword That cannot make a step to gain a crown King of a molehill had I rather be Than the richest subject of a monarchy." ^ Spenser could write : " One joyous hour in blissful hap- piness " was preferable to a life of wretchedness. The gospel of the Renaissance was one of life, with all its adornments. The new idea of immortality was the ancient one arising out of life and not of death. Let friars and philosophers call the soul immortal, the real contribution of the age was that life could also become so. A heroic age in the history of a nation does not mean that its baser instincts have been subdued. The century was material and sordid in spite of the fine elements in its fibre. Often the same activity which stirs the highest, animates the lowest as well and makes such sides of life assume a distorted prominence. Spenser might hold Mammon to scorn. Lyly, who with all his conceits was closer in touch with life than the poet, complained that in England it was "as in every place all for money." ^ Daring recklessness was no universal characteristic, and the conservative elements arising with the growth I20 TUDOR IDEALS of the new propertied class were to bring to the fore other traits of caution. Extreme pliability is the reac- tion of the prudent to danger. Not all were caught by the fervour of ambition to risk everything. In that age of swift change some veered to every breeze, became sceptical and cynical and barefacedly changed their coats. The contemporary epigram of the statesman who owed his success to resembling the willow rather than the oak throws light on Paulet's character. Sir John Mason, Ambassador at the French Court, has left his own maxims of success during such times. He spoke little and wrote less. He was always intimate with the sharpest lawyer and the ablest favourite. Having reached a point where each party regarded him as ser- viceable to them, he was so moderate that all thought him their own. Pliability marked many of the foremost figures of the time. Men with feeble convictions made little difficulty in changing their opinions to escape dan- ger or to gain reward. Such opportunism was the cor- rective to the risks of the age. With few exceptions a strain of great prudence ran through all the Tudor advisors. The lesson of Wolsey, More, and Cromwell had not been lost, and men like Paget and Cecil found caution more conducive to success. Cecil had changed his creed with every sovereign. His prudence was such, that when presenting drafts of policy to the queen, he was always careful to point out their drawbacks as well as their advantages. His worldly wisdom down to the most commonplace details trans- pires in his advice to his son. The cautious counsellor of the prince without impulse or fire, was no fanciful crea- tion. The sharp vicissitudes of fortune had found their own corrective in the statesman, who offered no hold for a royal whim to break. The anger of the queen could rightly exhaust itself on a Norfolk or an Essex. Her own caution had engendered a school of ministers who shared it with her. IV. VIOLENCE IN PRIVATE LIFE The atmosphere of violence which marked the end of the Middle Ages was succeeded by an age where violence became confined to the individual. The state might be regulated, but not personal character with its immediate inheritance dating from a century of anarchy. The idea of redress by private action, was living to men with whom the foundations of order rested on slight security and where other methods of restraint did not exist. For good or for evil far more then lay within the reach of the individual. This perhaps helps to explain the flagrant disregard of political morality. English practices remained idyllic compared with those prevalent at the Valois Court, but survivals of the old lawless spirit left their trace. Philip Sidney threatened to thrust his dagger into his father's secretary whom he suspected of opening his private letters. The point of honour masked the desire for brawling. The duel was of current practice in spite of innumerable arguments against its absurdity.^ Europe sat for its manners at the footstool of Italy and the Italian spirit of private vengeance was everywhere understood. La- ertes professed satisfaction with Hamlet's apology but not "in my terms of honour." His treachery in seeking to kill him with a poisoned rapier carried out the Italian idea of injured honour demanding vindication. Those too timorous to take the law into their own hands found worse means. Hired bravi were not un- known in England and Lord Oxford tried to have Sidney murdered. John Stanhope with twenty men attempted to kill Sir Charles Cavendish.^ Leicester was charged with seeking to assassinate the French Envoy Simier who had informed the queen about his secret marriage to 122 TUDOR IDEALS Lady Essex. ^ Whatever may have been the truth of Amy Robsart's death, pubHc opinion attached it to him and accused him of poisoning his enemies through his Itahan physician de Juho. ^ Lord Essex's death was said to have been due to an "Italian recipe," for poison was supposed to be given in small doses leaving no traces, but slowly sapping the organism so skilfully that men could be made to die from any disease. Its presence was al- ways suspected in the case of deaths for which medical skill could not account. Crime was probably often alleged without foundation. Its chronicle is not peculiar to any age and it would be easy to piece out of our own times a network of evil deeds as ferocious as any of the Renaissance. The fact that popular imagination was so impressionable to the narrative of violence, and that a commonplace murder like that of Arden of Feversham attracted much at- tention, rather suggests its rarity. Human imagination is at all times interested in the narration of crime, and the story of the much abused Wild Darell is in no way peculiar to the century. Less criminal manifestations of violence were more typi- cal, like the well-known anecdote about Richard Gren- ville showing his fortitude at a dinner with Spanish cap- tains, by chewing glass. This incident, unimportant enough in itself, was the counterpart in action of the ideal of frightfulness in Marlowe. When Tamburlaine makes the captured Emperor Bajazet act as his footstool, when he cuts his arm to teach his son courage, and then kills him because he is a coward, when he harnesses kings as horses to his chariot, slaughters the virgins of Da- mascus or drowns the inhabitants of Babylon, he expressed in poetry the Renaissance love of the terrible in art, and of violence as a characteristic of greatness. Re- straint found no place in the literary canons of the age. Letters and life have a differing relation to each other which makes all generalization dangerous. The Eliza- VIOLENCE IN PRIVATE LIFE 123 bethan drama with its portrayal of crime and violence, was not representative of English life. The frequency of vengeance on the stage suggests that this motive as an incentive to crime was readily understood, but it was associated more with Italy where the absence of central authority and the inadequacy of the law, favoured the wronged individual taking the remedy into his own hands. The spirit of the Renaissance and in a sense its great- ness, was due to the quest of a single purpose in the face of every obstacle. To attain an end, restraint was abandoned, although in England violence no longer formed part of daily life and in a sense had become exotic. On native soil its manifestations beyond vulgar crime were sporadic. Yet its spirit still lingered close to the imagina- tion. In the " Winter's Tale" Leonates tries to poison his guest and lifelong friend whom he suspects of seducing his wife. When in doubt as to the truth of charges made against his daughter he feels it incumbent that his honour be violently avenged. Perhaps one reason why the Elizabethan drama save in the greater Shakesperian masterpieces remains so dead to us, is the lack of con- tact between modern life and private vengeance. The Englishman of the Sixteenth Century had still enough associations with former recollections of violence to make the crimes of Italy appear not altogether remote. V. THE EVOLUTION OF WOMAN Medieval ideas of women survived long after the Middle Ages were ended. Any established order when challenged will always find defenders and the first asser- tions of feminism were denounced by theologians who invoked the contempt of the church fathers to prove woman's inferiority as divinely ordained. Hugh Latimer denounced the sex as designed by Providence to be un- derlings.^ Knox's thunderbolts against women are famous, though he lived surrounded by them. Even a poet like Lyndsay could write in jingling rhyme "So all women in their degree Should to their men subject be." ^ The idea then widely entertained of women as an infe- rior sex was not so remote from facts. Taken as a whole, they had hardly moved with the times and until late in the Sixteenth Century the great mass of womanhood remained densely ignorant. The extraordinary diversity of the age is nowhere better realized than in the wide extremes of feminism. To the few striking exariiples of learned women can be contrasted the great silent class of illiterates. Shake- spere's mother, the daughter of a rich farmer, could prob- ably not write her own name.^ The penetration of other ideas of education in women was hindered more by inertia and indifference than by any wilful intention to resist them. The Renaissance brought about a revolution in the position of women. Beginning with a few, its leaven spread gradually through widening circles over the land. The aristocratic view of history is no longer in keeping 124 THE EVOLUTION OF WOMAN 125 with modern ideas, but it is hard to think in terms of the past without undue attention to the great, or fail to dis- cern in them necessary factors in human progress. Be- fore the Sixteenth Century, the lives of women apart from a few of exalted station was well-nigh anony- mous. Some like Margaret of Richmond, or Edward IV's sister the Duchess of Burgundy, rising from the void around them, owed their prominence to birth or to exceptional circumstances. A Dame Juliana Berners was little more than the isolated example of a prioress with a knowledge of French and a taste for books. The immense majority of women even of high estate remained inconspicuous and unknown. During the Sixteenth Century, the cause of women suddenly found support as unconscious as it was unex- pected through circumstances of entirely different order. The excess of individualism first manfested in the swollen powers of the crown, brought other surprising reactions. The disparaging view of women grew silent as soon as their cause became inseparable from royalty. Judgment ceased as it approached the throne, and the awe inspired by majesty allowed prejudices of sex to be quickly overcome. When England, France, and Scotland were governed by women, it was impossible to speak of them as inferiors, and Knox discovered regretfully that it was necessary to recant to Elizabeth for his invective against the sex uttered when Mary's rule had kept him in unwelcome exile. The women then seated on the throne, unconsciously and unintentionally helped to prepare the way for the improved condition of their humbler sisters. The example of feminine rule, which was not unknown during the Middle Ages, would in itself have been in- sufficient had not the ground been prepared by other means. The new spirit of the Renaissance favoured this through education. The great changes which took place in the life and importance of women after the accession 126 TUDOR IDEALS of Henry VIII, were due less to that prince's uxorious tastes than to the spirit of cultivation emulated from the Valois Court. In this connection the king's personal proclivities cannot easily be dismissed. Amid the strug- gle for success through royal favour, everyone realized that the great reason for the divorce had been Katharine's personal unattractiveness compared with the French educated Anne Boleyn. The latter without pedantic learning possessed an easy familiarity with letters ac- quired at the French Court, where she had known Clement Marot and Berquin. Such accomplishments helped to enthrall a monarch who like all the Tudors, responded to every form of learning. Dissolute and grasping as was the temper of the English Court, a new standard of grace and cultivation had fortunately been introduced in place of the uncouthness of former days. Su- perior refinements were now expected from women, and Ann of Cleves found to her cost, that ignorance of music and of languages were among the reasons which made her meet with so little favour in the king's eyes. At the court national prejudices yielded before the example set from above. In this sense the royal taste reflected in those around the throne, was instrumental in favouring the education of women. Their emanci- pation which began by the importance they assumed in court life, was to spread gradually over the land. The evolution of womanhood by education toward freedom was far more important than the mere revelation of the classics which were only the instruments to bring this about. Of greater significance than the accom- plishments of such learned creatures as Ann Cheke, or the Latin verse written by Protector Somerset's daugh- ters, was the fact that in this new conception of life in- troduced by the Renaissance, the education of women formed an essential part. That such ideas at first, hardly extended beyond the court and the higher reaches of the social structure, does not detract from the immense THE EVOLUTION OF WOMAN 127 importance of the movement which was one side in the liberation of human personaHty. The growth of these ideas was aided by a national tra- dition of feminine freedom characteristic of Northern lands. Foreigners were struck by the greater liberty of Englishwomen compared with their Continental sisters. Erasmus* account of his welcome in an English home requires no repetition. When Italian travellers won- dered at the lack of jealousy on the part of British hus- bands, it is likely that they gave a more malicious in- terpretation to domestic relations than was warranted by the facts. The English nature is never long success- ful in disguising itself and was, doubtless, tolerant where it found no cause for a suspicion it did not feel. The absence in England of a less rigid discipline of life than existed on the Continent, made women react more unevenly to the new ideas. Innovations were not confined to book-lore. In Queen Mary's reign the liberty of Englishwomen scandalized the Spanish ladies who ac- companied their husbands to England, and had been accustomed to the staidness of their own bigoted court. The Duchess of Alba after a single experience would not show herself again, while other Spanish ladies re- fused to be presented because of the alleged evil con- versation of Englishwomen.'^ New ideas were not confined to educational doctrine. Among the upper classes, who had always been, accus- tomed to greater freedom, a feeling of independence in thought and conduct grew up among women. A slack- ening of parental and marital discipline conduced to more liberty. Women of the higher classes became ac- customed to thinking and acting for themselves. The new woman of the day, full of the feeling of her own per- sonality, aped men in games and in attire, and a puri- tan moralist could blame her for not blushing to wear doublets and jerkins so that her very sex became a mat- ter of doubt.^ %. 128 TUDOR IDEALS The development of refinement in any community arises mainly from the influence of women exercised in urban intercourse. But the manners of the Six- teenth Century in England were derived from the rough traditions of feudal and country life. The age was not refined in any later sense of the word. Elizabeth spat on a courtier, and invited Marshal Biron and his suite to assist at her toilet, where through the palace windows she showed him the head of Essex still on the Tower.® Modern writers unable to shake off the stamp of the genteel, stand aghast at the coarseness of the age, when they do not detect in this the sign of its virility. Women in England had not yet realized that their influence would grow in measure with the refine- ment they were able to impose on their surroundings. Then, as now, social extremes acted differently and the great mass was little aware of what actually took place in higher circles. Holinshed described the court ladies passing their time reading history and the Scrip- tures, while the younger ones occupied themselves with music and spinning. Harrison depicts their pastimes in much the same way and draws a picture of the palace which resembles a school.^ But Harrison frankly says that he had hardly dared to peep at the royal gates, and Holinshed was a poor country parson. Both drew an ideal image of what they wished to believe life to be in the royal proximity, which might satisfy the growing thirst for information on the part of the reading classes. So artificial a picture corresponded but little with re- ality. The life of women fighting for success, for power, or the gratification of vanity, was perhaps much the same in the Sixteenth Century as in other ages. Ambi- tion and jealousy, love, hate, and greed, have always been the mainsprings of human action. The in- fluence of the time lay in the spirit of the Renaissance weaving its web of learning across life and framing action amid a pedantism which became a second nature. When THE EVOLUTION OF WOMAN 129 Mary Stuart at the age of thirteen recited a Latin ora- tion before the French Court, in which she defended the right of women to be versed in letters and the hb- eral arts,^ when Elizabeth retired to her study to read a Greek orator, they unconsciously were obeying the new spirit of the age. Woman is always the conservative sex. But in the atmosphere of the court, household cares were less exacting, and the close neighbourhood of the sexes brought these together on a nearer level of cultivation. A reading class was growing whose roots in the palace expanded beyond its walls to leaven the upper reaches of English life. Lyly was the discoverer of this circle and of the influence women were then beginning to exercise. He urged them to read while fondling their lap dogs, and declared that he would prefer to see his book "lie shut in a ladies casket than open in a scholar's study." His themes of passionless love and preciosity, were welcomed by a feminine audience in quest for re- finement, who found in Lyly what they could not dis- cern in Shakespeare. The literature of the drawing room began with his novels. His Eupheuism with all its absurdity created a fem- inine audience. A wide circle of interest had been awak- ened and women henceforth occupied themselves in- creasingly with cultivated activities. The Countess of Pembroke's poetic inspiration is indifferent, but her friendship with men of letters left her the nearest English equivalent to a Margaret of Navarre, or a Vittoria Co- lonna. The great lady of the Renaissance could make her household a court, and rule over the affection of poets as her subjects.^ A new importance was attached to women which Fynes Moryson with patriotic intention described as prompted by motives of noble mind to give honour to weakness. ^"^ The growth of education and con- sequently of personality conduced to this result. Even the middle classes were responding more and more to such ideas. Mrs. Locke, the wife of a London shopkeeper, was I30 TUDOR IDEALS to become the confident of John Knox's most intimate thoughts. Stubbes could praise his own wife as seldom without the Bible or a good book in her hands." Could we penetrate through the anonymous zone of life we would find the women of the age increasingly alert to the need for cultivation. VI. THE SHUFFLING OF CLASSES Caste distinctions in the Middle Ages were never so rigidly observed as to completely arrest the transition from one class to another. But the feudal system and the social conditions resulting from this were little con- ducive to such penetration. Where it occurred, it was always sufficiently gradual not to upset the existing structure by any too sudden dilution, while those who rose beyond their origin, tended at once to assume the traits and prejudices of the class into which they were absorbed without altering its complexion. In England the continuance of feudal privilege no longer in relation to the needs of the community, had culminated in the civil wars of the Fifteenth Century. War is invariably succeeded by economic disturbances which arise from the readjustment of conditions. The novelty of those which took place in the Sixteenth Cen- tury, lay in the fact that as soon as the land was no longer held under feudal tenure, the principles of economic in- dividualism with their selfish reactions came into play. The weakening of the feudal nobility by the Wars of the Roses and their impoverishment had caused the dis- persion of many estates which were bought by enriched city merchants. This was no novelty ^ save on the scale with which it then took place. But while the feudal idea of the soil had been one which entailed military obliga- tions of service, the Tudor policy tended to break away from this. Economic laws assert themselves when not held in restraint by other circumstances, and as soon as land could be regarded solely for itself, the feeling that it was a marketable commodity induced the application 131 132 TUDOR IDEALS of more profitable methods of cultivation. This process from Henry VI Fs time went on through the Sixteenth Century in spite of many efforts made to prevent it. So late as the end of Elizabeth's reign, Francis Bacon could introduce a bill against enclosures and the conversion of arable land into pasture, and Leicester was accused of making parks and chases out of his tenants' lands.^ The immediate consequences of such agricultural changes were the wholesale evictions which took place and the impoverishment of the yeoman class. Latimer, him- self the son of a yeoman farmer, lamented their former prosperity, deploring the fact that since this decay they were no longer able as before to dower their daugh- ters and send their sons to the University.^ After the barons and the yeomen, who followed them in adversity, as once they had followed them in battle, the new order found a third victim. The monks had long been regarded with jealousy because of their vast wealth. "Nigh half the substance of the realm is in their possession."^ The charges of leading immoral lives and devouring the labour of the poor by their tithes,^ rested often on the flimsiest foundation, but the feeling aroused against them was an expression of the discon- tent of the time. The restless forces of the age which could ill account for the widespread poverty, fastened the blame for this on the friars. The fact that certain of these had enclosed their land and evicted their tenants lent fuel to this agitation. The monks were rich and unpopular. The two facts were associated and the king, greedy by na- ture, and quick to interpret popular feeling, saw in this the opportunity further to enrich himself and attach to the throne the courtiers and lawyers who with spoils derived from the friars would find their interests in- creasingly identified with the crown. The dissolution of the monasteries broke up stagnant pools of conservatism, inherited from earlier ages, but such THE SHUFFLING OF CLASSES 133 measures added greatly to the social unrest. In the past, the monks had been the means of charitable assistance to the poor and with the confiscation of their foundations, the greatest agency of relief was stopped while the friars themselves became charges on the community. Men like Simon Fish and Brynklow, who had been foremost in denouncing them, ended by lamenting the spoliation of the church lands which had not turned out as they had hoped. One by one the ancient pillars of the medieval state had crumbled. Men whose lives and comforts seemed assured, were suddenly cast as beggars in the street looking in vain for an explanation of their downfall. A vast transformation was taking place in the social order. Deeper and more powerful than the authority of the crown which tried vainly to stem the tide while uncon- sciously lashing it, the entire medieval fabric of col- lective aggregates, internally connected by interest and obligation, was now giving way before the new individ- ualist conception of Renaissance life. Although the Tudor crown had itself been the first great triumph of individualism, as soon as it was firmly established, it sought to retard changes of which it had been the beneficiary but the significance of which it only dimly perceived. The progress of the transforma- tion, with its violent reactions, could not be stayed. It was only later in the century that the same forces who had benefited by the changes now sought to divert these into fresh channels of conservatism superficially reminis- cent of the ancient order. Destruction told only half the tale. Since the acces- sion of the Tudors, and even before, a new class of rich were stepping into the breaches made in the social struc- ture. The readjustment was taking place, less by design and intention, than by the effect of rude forces let loose in a disintegrated fabric where they were working out their own reactions. The sudden clash of vigorous new 134 TUDOR IDEALS elements with a dying order, had been to throw the social system into the melting pot and leave the new alloys to the rough and uncontrolled workings of nat- ural laws. Below the crown, which was the first force to acquire stability, all other elements in the national life were in a semi-fluid state with vestiges of organization derived from former times but whose strength was no longer powerful enough to curb or to protect their mem- bers. The old structure had broken down, and its constituent parts were impoverished and humbled. Usually the class closest to the soil is the one which changes the least, but in England in the early Sixteenth Century, even this bedrock of the nation swayed. A contemp- orary wrote: "The poor man he was tossed I mean the labouring man I mean the husbandman I mean the ploughman All these men go to wrack That are the body and the stay Of your Grace's realm alway." ® The social disorder depicted by More, Sir William Forrest,^ and others was due to causes far deeper than the thinkers of the time could fathom. They could ill account for the sudden departure from the compara- tively static conditions of the Middle Ages. Impressed by the decay of what had been most stable, and by the prevalence of misery, two feelings were aroused. The first was one of indignation and resentment against those members of the community who had dared to profit by this disorder in order to rise. An unknown rhymester could write: "For they that of late did sup Out of an ashen cup THE SHUFFLING OF CLASSES 135 Are wonderfully sprung up That nought were worth of late With casting counters and their pen These are the upstart gentlemen These are they that devour All the goods of the poor." ^ Amid the chaos of life which replaced what had formerly been an orderly structure, the newly rich ap- peared, "steplords" as Latimer dubs them, who treated land like merchandise and food as a commodity for speculation.^ Disorder and order' went side by side, but the disorder was due to the fall of the ancient feudal pyramid bringing down the destruction of the classes who had before been identified with the welfare of the state, while order was gradually being evolved by men who had trampled ruthlessly on whatever stood in their path. The rigidity of class structure was replaced by com- petition, and the diffusion of education increased this feeling of unrest by giving a sharper edge to class hatred. Those coming to the front by education and the acquisi- tion of wealth, had not had time to adjust their new pos- sessions to the national structure. The evolution then in process was too rapid for any apparent order to be ap- plied to movements which under the surface were quite as constructive as they were destructive. To many the superficial evidence seemed a sign of degeneracy. The early writers like Simon Fish inveighed against the use of money which they thought would have been better spent in charity, diverted toward the gratification of pleasure, and superfluous building taking the place of necessary lodging for laboring men.^'' The Puritans reviled extrav- agance, and even Harrison who usually saw only good everywhere thought that the spread of luxury was sap- ping the nation's manhood. The real economic transfer- 136 TUDOR IDEALS mation going on passed almost unnoticed, and it was sup- posed that wealth was being drained from the land to pay for trifles. Luxury as proof of the superfluous permitted by the material enrichment of life, escaped their observa- tion. The growth of luxury came especially through the ex- tension of new commercial interests. The enormous increase of wealth aided the increase of extravagance. Everywhere new houses were being built of dimen- sions and beauty hitherto unknown. The poorest bar- on's house was better than that of the princes of old, wrote Harrison. The German, Hentzner, noted that even the farmers' beds were covered with tapestry. Costly furniture formerly used only by the great had descended to "inferior artificers" and many farmers now garnished their cupboards with plate, their beds with tapestry and silk hangings, and their tables with fine linen. "A mean man will have a house meet for a prince " wrote Starkey. . . . "Every gentleman wants to live as well as before lived only princes and lords."" The hatred of wealth is always most apparent when democratic conditions are near, and the significance of the levelling tendencies imposed by Tudor policy lay in the national preparation for democracy. The an- tecedents of this feeling can be traced to earlier days. The little known history of medieval socialism is full of levelling doctrines. Lydgate dwells on the churl's ha- tred of the gentleman and deplored the fact that beg- gars rose in station till they despised their neighbours,^^ while Occleve regretted the age when a lord could be told by his dress. Moralists are conservative by nature, for their sym- pathies attach themselves to the better side of a real or mythical past, and they are rarely able to project their imagination beyond the evil discerned in the present. The commonest form of criticism was the censure of those who aimed to rise above their station of life and THE SHUFFLING OF CLASSES 137 most suggestions for reform lay in advocating a return to former conditions which were associated with the golden age. The wish for social betterment was denounced and blame cast on merchants who purchased land with their new wealth and tried to make ladies of their daugh- ters by marrying them to some noble ward in chancery. ^^ In his essay on the state, Edward VI with the conser- vatism of youth, commented on the changes and deplored the wish of the lower classes to rise. He wrote scorn- fully of the artificers who want to be county gentlemen and justices of the peace." His own goal was for stabil- ity and his anger expended itself against a tide he was powerless to stem. Political and religious causes further contributed to the social unrest and rendered more diffi- cult attempts to build afresh the foundations of order. After the persecution and exile of Catholics under Edward, with Mary came the persecution and exile of Protes- tants. In the words of a contemporary — gentlemen, knights, lords, countesses, duchesses, after the wreck of all their wealth fled as exiles abroad. Such convulsions were among the causes which kept open gaps in the social structure until filled by the infusion of new blood. An intermixture of class went on, side by side with the growth of new caste distinctions which were formed again on the ruins of the old. Paradoxically, the disentegration of rigid social lines provoked a deeper class feeling than any that had be- fore existed. The uncertainty of barriers, the exist- ence of a new twilight zone, undefined rights, the ex- tension of which varied according to the angle of vision, provoked an ill humour which simmered through the cen- tury. When Surrey, imbued with the feudal idea that the lives of the commoners were of indifferent interest, ruthlessly suppressed the prentices' rising against for- eigners in 1 517, he fortified the burgher's hatred of the nobility. It is among the difficulties of history that often the 138 TUDOR IDEALS most widespread ideas have not found literary ex- pression. The feeling of hostility entertained by the lower classes was but little phrased. We consider more the religious side of Puritanism than its political, although the reason for Elizabeth's wish to suppress the Puritan pamphleteers may be contained in the remark attrib- uted to Lord Hertford, that "as they shoot at Bishops now so they will do at the nobility if they be suffered. " Later the "inbred malice in the vulgar against the no- bility" was among the reasons which made Burleigh so anxious for a peace with Spain. The same hatred and jealousy from above and below was directed against those who sought to rise above their station. Philip Stubbes, although a Puritan, re- sented the external confusion which made it so very hard to know who is a gentleman and who is not.^^ Ascham remarked on the desire of men to do what they were un- fit for, and the wish of some to be at Court who were bet- ter fitted to be teamsters. ^^ The critics so prone to de- nounce the ostentation of the new rich, did not realize that the latter were the unconscious heralds of economic individualism which replacing feudalism was henceforth to become the foundation of English industrial life. By preparing the moral freedom of the individual, the Sixteenth Century destroyed the former rigidity of class. Out of the counting house and the lawyer's study, came a new set of men who brought city life into relation with the entire community. The nomenclature of the old social fabric still went on as if nothing had changed, but its spirit was difi^erent. Henceforth in spite of the attempt at reaction under Elizabeth, and the growth of a new conservatism which arose while the turmoil of swift change subsided, there was never the same rigid caste line in England as in other European countries. The upward striving of all classes coming from this individualism, went on intensified by the fresh openings given to human activity. The husbandman, it was said. THE SHUFFLING OF CLASSES 139 aimed to be a yeoman, the yeoman a gentleman, the gentleman a knight, the knight a lord.^^ The efforts to preserve class distinctions ended in a gradual struggle which was silently conducted. It finished in a kind of perpetual compromise characteristic of English life, which preserved the form of class distinction without narrowness, and allowed the free passage from one level to the other of whoever showed the necessary quali- fications. The movement was facilitated by the absence of other conscious standards on the part of those rising who were only too anxious to rid themselves of their ante- cedents and be merged without further ado into the class of their adoption. The old edifice was erected anew and its construc- tive material renovated till it acquired a strength and a resiliency which existed in no other country in Europe. While in England the individual was freed by gradual process from the relics of feudal restraint, the more rigid structure existing in France required the guil- lotine to accomplish the same result. Freedom of the in- dividual helped to lay the foundations for the economic prosperity on which the greatness of England was later to be built. VII. TRADITIONAL SURVIVALS There is always the tendency to restrict the evolution of history within a certain mental convenience and make the ideas of an age shape themselves to fit formulas. Especially before a watershed like the Renaissance it becomes disconcerting to have to reckon with currents which refuse to follow their expected course. One is easily disposed to accept at an exaggerated value the claims of a discoverer, that life has changed with the revelation of new ideas or that human nature alters with the fashion of its arts. The fact that the Renaissance substituted its own al- phabet for the Gothic did not mean that a fresh soul had filled mankind. Instincts and ambitions remain the same in all ages however differently expressed. In England, where novelty is never enthusiastically embraced, there was no sudden break with the past but a somewhat spasmodic transition. The new movement took a downward extensive direction. Side by side with it, at times blending, at others parallel, continued the traditions, derived from earlier centuries. Young ideas and old instincts together formed the essential unity of English life. In eras of swift change history is not un- like a mountain torrent whose waters foam when they dash against boulders, only to compose themselves after they have settled in the broad river bed. But the water, whether white with froth, or grey with melted snow, or blue in its deep calm, flows always in the same stream. Interwoven with the vast changes which came over English life during the reign of the Tudors, lingered in- numerable survivals of the past which in part were tra- ditional, in part instinctive reversions, in part even de- liberate archaisms linking Sixteenth Century England 140 TRADITIONAL SURVIVALS 141 with all that had gone before. Political power had been able to hew for itself a new path, scholarship, and letters felt free to copy, emulate, or conceive their works in a newly borrowed dress. Everywhere a wider horizon ex- tended the human outlook, yet circumstances and con- ditions existed where the vision turned to the past in- stead of to the future, and where even a calculating policy intentionally tried to identify itself with what had gone before. Superficially at least the return of order under the Tudors and the growth of historical consciousness were conditions which made for a reversion to the old. The shaping of ideals and courtly practices tended to follow the medieval example. The Middle Ages were to the Renaissance what the Eighteenth Century has been to us, and only gradually the new era was able to form its own standards of distinction. Though as a political insti- tution feudalism was dead, there was a deliberate re- turn to many of its ideals. Long after the Middle Ages were over, ideas derived from these retained their in- fluence. Romances of chivalry became most popular when medieval chivalry existed no more, and the courtly practices before the eyes of those who sought to create a glamour for the age, were those of the Fourteenth Century. Amid such tendencies new life was given to the idea of knighthood and a deliberate attempt was made to formulate its duties. In England the Renaissance brought no sharp transition. No sudden break divided the two ages but only a gradual infiltration and extension of elements and fashions blend- ing into the old. Neither was the old completely dis- carded nor the new completely assumed. This was even truer in Scotland which as a more primitive land, pre- served traditions after these had become archaic in the southern kingdom. In a period of swift change it may become politic to link oneself to a venerable past rather than to inaugurate 142 TUDOR IDEALS a more uncertain future. To discard the appearance as well as the spirit of whatever has gone before, is gratui- tously to increase the surfaces of friction and add to hu- man difficulties. The founder of the Tudor dynasty was himself to give the first example of this policy which con- sciously, or unconsciously, was followed by all who then established themselves upon the land. The silent pres- sure of environment contributed to hasten this result, and to efface initial differences. Though the structure of feudal privileges and duties had disappeared, the new class gradually merging with whatever remained of the old, instinctively tended to revert to the unwritten body of usages and practices, handed down from former days and which stood outside the field of direct legislation. In the great social transformation which then took place, the commonly accepted view has been derived partly from the study of many futile laws, partly from the writings of social reformers who, impressed by the misery of the thousands then rendered homeless, saw only evil effects. Great changes are like epidemics of disease which alarm by their ravages while the degree of immunity they gradually develop passes unobserved. A vast revolution with immediate reactions of suffer- ing had undoubtedly taken place. Isolated from all other circumstances, nothing could seem more convincing, or more completely a break from the past than the trans- ference of wealth from one class of the community to another disposed to use the land as a commercial enter- prise. Every student of the age has pointed this out and drawn the conclusions. Yet what was the result.^ Ir- respective of their antecedents or of the methods which secured for them their ill-gotten gains, this new class once settled on the land, found it advantageous to con- nect their life with that of an earlier tradition. Apart from their beginnings, or original intentions, the result was the same even when it took more than a generation to effect the change. The power of the unwritten body TRADITIONAL SURVIVALS 143 of usages and customs handed down from former days, was greater than the power of the law or even the power of greed. Shylock became a country squire whose son could denounce usurers. Sir Thomas Kitson "mercer of London" built Hengrave Hall in Suffolk, one of the finest residences of the time. A new conservatism grew with a new propertied class, safely anchored on the land, aware of its new responsibilities, connecting itself with the system it had replaced, and even forging its pedigrees to identify itself with what had gone before. How far this desire to revert to former traditions could go, may be judged from the case of Sir Christo- pher Hatton, who had built a large house at Holdenby. He himself was in London and two years passed without his even visiting the place. Yet conforming to ancient practices of hospitality he gave orders that everyone, rich or poor, who passed there should receive entertainment. In this sense the new England of the Tudors grafted itself on the past, adopted it as its ancestry, and carried on its traditions. The castle became a manor, the Ab- bey a country house. Security reigned. The ancient turbulence disappeared, while sources of gain other than violence were tapped. For the first time England dis- covered the real enjoyment of life. But the essential structure of existence remained as a medieval inheritance. Though feudal charges and privilege disappeared, the prestige of the land survived from former times to attract the rich from the cities. By whatever road one travelled to success, the goal was always the country home sur- rounded by its acres of field and wood, and a respectful tenantry to give the homage of consideration to its owner. The Renaissance was not merely the discovery of the ancient world, it was also the discovery of a human consciousness which could pick its models where it chose and accordingly found many of these in medieval ex- ample. V^here hardly an act of chivalry stands out 144 TUDOR IDEALS amid the dark annals of the Fifteenth Century, in Tudor times there came a revival of knightly practices. Caxton translating "The Order of Chivalry" from the French, lamented the disrepute into which knightly usages had then fallen. The old romances were no more read and many knights no longer possessed their armour. He wished to see the tourney revived and offered advice as to how this should be done.^ When he printed Malory's " King Arthur," he expressed the hope that his readers might learn therein noble acts of chivalry and gentle vir- tuous deeds. Many in the new age instinctively conscious of a ferment below, whose trend they could not understand, reverted to their own past with the wish to find in it a guide for conduct. The new movement disguised its own Renaissance origins for a past it had apparently discarded. The in- stitution of chivalry was revived to self-deceive another generation into believing that it represented continuity with an unbroken past. The tourney offered the brilliant side of this revival as a distraction which gave courtiers like Mountjoy the chance to distinguish themselves in their sovereigns' eyes, or for others to indulge their taste for the trappings of luxurious armour. There was also a revived code of knightly honour which in a contemporary form drew its inspiration from the example of earlier times. King James IV expressed the wish to fight Surrey for the possession of Berwick, just as later when Somerset in- vaded Scotland, Lord Huntley offered to fight the Eng- lish "for the whole quarrel, twenty to twenty, ten to ten, or else himself alone" with the English commander.^ Old survivals from former customs were blended into novel policies. New circumstances brought out a rever- sion to old practices. Instinctively man fell back on these to find the precedents for his action. Intellec- tually he might seek his inspiration from classical antiq- uity. This was in the main urban and peaceful, for TRADITIONAL SURVIVALS 145 the Romans nurtured no warlike philosophy. To Eng- lishmen there was of necessity something bookish about the Ancient World. The Middle Ages with the cult of the horse and the lance, and the courtly reverence for woman, was closer to their taste. Even the travelled courtier and scholar like Sidney who tried to introduce classical meters into English, confessed his "own bar- barousness" and felt pride, in that he had never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas without being stirred to tears. The difficulty in understanding the age lies largely in the inability to separate the swirl of the currents amid the confusion of its eddies. Medievalism in the Sixteenth Century never became a consciously organized move- ment with an interior evolution, but occurred in the re- actions, deliberate and instinctive, toward earlier forms and practices of life. In part these came from the natural distaste of those who foresaw an excessive danger in individualism, and who wished to revert to the supposed stability of a past whose deficiencies were glossed over when not ignored. Such ideas took the form of a politi- cal reaction which hoped to find a rigid social structure in the state and saw with dismay any difi^erent order. Thomas More for instance, in a medieval spirit, put great limitations on personal liberty in Utopia where no one was allowed to wander beyond his own precinct without written permission of the prince and where punishment led at once to bondage. The traditions handed down by long habits of thought could not easily be shaken off and haunted the minds of those who tried to express new ideas without being able to discard the old. A writer like Starkey, in spite of his Renaissance cultivation, could not rid himself of the in- heritance of such ideas in criticising the evils of the time which he attributed to the lack of harmony within the state. "The temporality grudgeth against the spiritu- ality, the commons against the nobles and subjects against 146 TUDOR IDEALS their rulers; one hath envy at another, one beareth maHce against another, one complaineth of another. "^ The moral nature of Englishmen turned back natu- rally toward their own medieval annals. The Renais- sance education was generally a veneer which only ex- ceptionally touched their inner soul. In another sense, the revival of medievalism in the Sixteenth Century marked the real triumph of the Renaissance. Where the Fifteenth Century concerned only with the struggle of the moment had forgotten its own origins, the discovery of man and his growing self-consciousness caused many by instinct to shape ideas toward their immediate antece- dents with which they tried to identify tastes and ideals. Different minds went back to former times in quest of different things. In the early years of the Sixteenth Century the exotic nature of the new poetry caused an instinctive fondness to linger for the medieval form which even in decay still seemed national. Certain poets trained in the old school could never accommodate their art to the new meters. Stephen Hawes although living at the court of Henry VIII was really a belated medievalist, for whom Plato was a famous clerk," and whose main interest in the classics came through reading into them an allegorical heralding of Christianity.^ Medieval didacticism was not easily shaken off. Its idea of life as a preparation for death, and of man haunted by sin, survived to dim the new light. Such a play as "Everyman" breathes the Middle Ages. An ethical bias was injected into letters and even translations were never published with- out an alleged lofty moral purpose. As was later the case with the French romantics certain poets were revolutionary in form but reactionary in their ideas, while others like Skelton were the contrary. In Scotland, where Gawain Douglas used his translation of Virgil to advance his belief in spiritual chivalry. Sir David Lyndsay remained as medievally didactic in intention as TRADITIONAL SURVIVALS 147 he was progressive in his views. He spared neither " King, court, counselors, nobility, nor others of inferior estate," ^ in his wish to point out abuses. Using the form of a me- dieval satirist he interprets the Reformation and asks if the Pope's raising of armies is "fraternal charity" not certainly learned at Christ's school.^ If he were king, he wrote, not one penny should any longer be sent to Rome. All monasteries would be suppressed and their revenues appropriated by the state.'^ Lyndsay linked the Middle Ages and Renaissance in a strange confusion hardened with the cement of the Ref- ormation. In Scotland, the medieval spirit long pre- dominated. Henryson is enough of the Middle Ages to make Orpheus find Julius Ca?sar, Pilate, and Nero in Hades,^ and see in poetry no other purpose than that of moral allegory. Kennedy expounds the cloister doc- trine that the world is meant only to deceive and pride is the net with which to entangle mankind into sin.^ Henryson had believed that the popularity of Chaucer and Lydgate in preference to religious books was sin- ful.^" The Chaucerian revival in the Sixteenth Century offered the best proof of native taste reverting to the tra- ditions of the Middle Ages. The continual use of alle- gory came as a medieval inheritance. A soldier like Gascoigne imitates Piers Plowman, and his "Steel Glas" is as archaic in its form as in its wish to return to the feudal structure of society. He contrasted the old- fashioned steel mirror which stood for the plain man- ners of medieval England with the Venetian glass which typified the corruption of the day. He denounced the social unrest and the dissatisfaction which made every one seek to alter their condition though the only remedy he saw was one of reversion to the happy conditions sup- posedly prevailing in feudal life. Nothing is more signifi- cant of how dead was the knowledge of the Middle Ages than such literary return to its ideals which made Stephen Gosson deplore the decay of English virtue. 148 TUDOR IDEALS Reminders of medievalism fringed life with a living force. Their fashion caused a literary hack like Ger- vase Markham to reedit the Book of St. Albans with its record of chivalry, and its enumeration of the articles of gentry. Once more these were catalogued for the bene- fit of readers desiring to learn the highroad to distinc- tion by setting before them models of deportment. Moral lessons were wrapped in the dress of a bygone age. The extension of life, the opening of new horizons for adventure, the security of England and the insecurity of the world, were as many conditions which made for the new knight errantry of Grenville and of Sidney. Spenser, most learned of poets, steeped in classical letters, yet felt that the ideal which touched him most deeply was that of the Middle Ages. His imagination reverted to an era, dead but with still living recollections, to find a setting for the new chivalry of his time. The ideal of knightly honour was closest to his heart. The Platonism of his hymns, and the classical learning garnered at the University, were outward trappings. The goal before his vision was one of arms and he tried to modernize the chivalry of the Middle Ages in order to reconcile it with the practices of the day. The pursuit of honour was to be grafted on to the new patriotic idea and to accompany the wish for cultivation. "Abroad in arms, at home in studious kind Who seeks with painful toil shall honour soonest find." In lines of unsurpassed beauty he has expressed this ideal of knightly honour; "In woods, in waves, in wars, she wonts to dwell And will be found with peril and with pain Ne can the man that moulds in idle cell Unto her happy mansion attain; Before her gate high God did sweat ordain." . (F. Q. 11, 111, 40, sq.). TRADITIONAL SURVIVALS 149 Spenser's medievalism was both deliberate and instinc- tive. In his mind he felt that he was going back to the hearthstone of national tradition and throwing off Greece and Rome for England. His complicated allegory has cast its shadow on a talent of which medievalism was only a single side. Intentional though this was, it showed the strain running through the national genius and around which ancient virtues in their modern dress could group themselves. The political not the moral and social aspects of the Middle Ages were dead — nor even their intellectual ideas. These had survived and entered into the permanent fibre of the race ready to show their vitality by being able to transform themselves to the needs of the age. Different minds went back to the Middle Ages in search of different things. The landowner, the reformer, the soldier, found in them their models. Instinctively they reverted to real or supposed precedents and called on these to modify the pressure from the currents of other ideas. The result was an extraordinary medley of old and new, sometimes associated, sometimes in op- position, yet almost always conveying the feeling of dis- harmony and compromise which is characteristic of the Sixteenth Century in England. The age was neither wholly medieval nor wholly Renaissance, but the reac- tions between both caused the birth of its genius. Reminders of feudalism could still be seen in Ireland where the chief of a sept rode, while a gentleman of his own name, able to speak good Latin, ran barefooted by his stirrup. Englishmen, astonished by this sight, thought they had passed into another era without realizing that the spirit of the Middle Ages breathed in themselves. VIII. THE SOCIAL FABRIC Phillipe de Comines found a divine justice in the fact that the English nobles whose ancestors had pil- laged and devastated France should have finished by killing each other/ The destruction of the feudal nobility in the Wars of the Roses has, however, been exaggerated. The heads of great families perished, but there were many who survived. Of more importance than actual statistics was the fact that the baronage had been so weakened by death and impoverishment, as no longer to be able to oppose successfully the growth of new ele- ments in the state. The power of turbulent nobles was ended and they were henceforth to be dominated by the crown. No longer able to present a unity bound to- gether by interests of class and blood, their relative im- portance was to decay. The Duke of Buckingham had daily entertained five hundred retainers at his board. When he mounted the scaffold, it was thought that the last of the great nobles had died. But even he possessed only the outward trap- pings of his station without the power to save even his innocence from an unjust death. The history of the no- bles in the Sixteenth Century is misleading, for on the surface little had changed except the infusion of new blood. So late as the middle of the century many households still kept their trains of worthless hangers-on.^ The Duke of Norfolk in Elizabeth's reign could boast that his revenues were hardly less than those of the Kingdom of Scotland, and that when on his tennis court at Norwich he felt the equal of kings.^ The Fif- teenth Century was not so far away nor the hotbed of conspiracy in Rome, or Madrid so distant, as to remove the hope of independent action on the part of some ISO THE SOCIAL FABRIC 151 nobles. This betrayed itself in many an intrigue and awakened ambition. Old ideas are deep-rooted even after they have lost their force. The medieval theory of the prince as a kind of superior noble who derived his strength from the nobility, was not unconnected with the plan to marry Leicester to the queen. Elizabeth, scenting this danger, lent countenance to the belief that royalty was a blood apart and declared that she was not so unmindful of her Majesty as to prefer her servant.^ Such ideas did not fit into the Tudor theory. Their own origin was too recent and their succession too inse- cure, to take risks from those who by their pretensions could approach the throne. The theory of government could not conceive of any structure other than that of the pyramid with its crowned apex. Tudor policy was to destroy the power of the no- bility and then reconstruct it on another basis. The idea of an aristocracy remained unchanged, but its po- litical power became absorbed by the throne. The crown encouraged such a structure because tend- ing to make easier the task of government. Henry VII copying the French practice where titles of nobility were sold, insisted that every freeholder with a land rental of forty pounds should receive knighthood and pay fees for the same.^ This order was so often repeated that frequent attempts must have been made to evade it. The king tried artificially to sustain an aristocratic fabric by enforcing primogeniture, and, later, Thomas Cromwell enacted a bill to punish attempts to circum- vent this. It was argued that Englishmen, who were rough by nature, required a ruling class preserved for them by the laws of inheritance, for if great estates were divided, decay would then set in and the nobility be levelled to the commons.^ Moreover there was real pride in the fact that the English nobility had preserved their territorial foundation, and contemporary opinion con- trasted it in this respect to the disadvantage of the French. 152 TUDOR IDEALS A new titled class was formed mostly from men of small beginnings. Humanity in its class lines follows a simple evolution, and the much reviled new nobility quickly enough assimilated a caste tradition without the dangerous feudal grip. As soon as a territorial founda- tion from the plunder of the monasteries had been given to these novel creations, a class was manufac- tured which, save for the spirit of feudal militarism, was to resemble the ancient nobility. Where descent was wanting, genealogies were invented and the mercer great-grandfather of Anne Boleyn could be represented as being of noble Norman blood, just as later Cecil, who was of obscure origin, found genealogists ready enough to give him an ancient lineage. Historians as a rule take insufficient cognizance of the fact that blood plays less part in creating a type than does environment and the maintenance of tradition as the framework of conduct. Evolution affects character just as it does every other manifestation of life. The tradi- tion of a peerage existed in England and though with- out leaders, reduced in numbers, and impoverished, it was revived and in the end strengthened by the very peo- ple it most despised. The survivors of the old nobility who scoffed at the newcomers failed to realize that they were to be saved by these and that the vigor again given to the aristocracy was due to this infusion in what was henceforth to become a class and not a caste. The feeling of security in Elizabeth's reign and the growth of wealth made for conservative reaction. The pressure from below aroused a social resistance above which was encouraged by the crown. The latter no longer dreading the political encroachments of the great now looked to these to help resist the encroachments of the small. Hence Bacon as a defender of the exist- ing order, admits that though in other ages noblemen had been greater, yet that their rights and dignities had never been better preserved than under Queen Eliz- THE SOCIAL FABRIC 153 abeth who gave them privileges and precedence in Par- liament, court and country/ The aristocratic idea became fortified amid the evolu- tion of conditions different from those for which it had originally been intended. The diffusion of wealth and of education produced a far greater upward striving with a corresponding desire for the ornamental sides of life. The asumption of arms, with or without authority, was one manifestation of this.^ Amid the disentegration of classes, there was a notable attempt on the part of many of humble origin to claim heraldic privilege and to parade as gentry. The abuse of titles was regarded as a plague infesting the world.® The very College of Heralds was accused of forging pedigrees, and when early in the next century the common hangman, Gregory Brandon, was granted the right to bear arms the scandal became noto- rious. Apart from the ludicrous side of such practices, the fact remained that the growth of the nation in population, wealth, and influence, brought to the fore new sources of honour which required adjustment to the more primi- tive structure. The essence of desire for aristocratic dis- tinction was unchanged, but its practice conformed better to the necessities of life. Contemporary writers would discuss learnedly about the "slothful tolerance" which allowed those sons of churls who had received an academic degree to bear arms,^° and could sneer at gentlemen being made "good cheap" in England. The public regarded as gentlemen, whoever lived without manual labour, and even the critics had to acknowledge that the system possessed its merits, for the prince lost nothing by it, while the new gentry was required to display a "more manly courage and tokens of better education, higher stomach and bountifuller liberality. "^^ The extension of such standards to the professions is also significant. Lawyers were never behindhand in exalting the study of the law. There was more doubt about doctors, yet 154 TUDOR IDEALS soon medicine became more highly esteemed than before, and writers argued that its knowledge merited the bear- ing of arms. Those who excelled in poetry and in music were also thought to deserve coat armour.^- The curious use of armourial bearings as a kind of cur- rency of gentry, was the result of having to find some recognized pattern of distinction for the growing numbers of men who, no longer attached to the soil, or possessed of landed estates, were now to be found in every walk of Hfe. The social effect of the Sixteenth Century had been to increase enormously the number of those who without direct root or property connection demanded the consid- eration of gentle birth. In this sense all soldiers of fortune claimed to be gentlemen, while members of more primitive communities likewise arrogated the title. Spenser re- marked that the designation of gentlemen in Ireland was as universal as with the Welsh and resulted in making the Irish scorn work and manual labour. ^^ The underlying idea of social distinctions was to at- tempt to adjust the fluctuating and expanding con- ditions of English life to a primitive structure derived from the Middle Ages. The traditional basis of military origin was preserved. Arms made the gentleman, and a soldier however basely born was so considered if he lived without reproach. ^^ The efforts of the crown were directed to preserving a rough balance between ideas old and new. The fount of honour could conceive of no other fabric of society than that of an orderly, ascending progression attended by honorific distinctions. Its repressive task had ceased as soon as it no longer feared the menace to its power and henceforth its policy with respect to class distinctions became conservative. Both as a source of revenue and in the interest of sta- bility the crown aided the movement to regularize the social structure and distributed the outward trappings THE SOCIAL FABRIC 155 which have come down to our own day with but little change. By so doing it responded to the ideas of the nation, who would have little understood any other plan. The prevailing opinion was deeply aristocratic, and sharp lines both of theory and of practice were drawn between the social strata. The influence of the upper classes was still immense and the belief existed, that in peace as in war, the nobility were to act as the nation's leaders and by their example make their rule welcome. ^^ The people will follow them "for truly such as the noblemen be such will the people be. "^^ Many tried therefore to impress on the upper classes the feeling of their responsibility. As- cham declared that they were the "makers and marrers of all men's manners within the realm. "^'' The social fabric had to take cognizance of a more com- plex situation than before and its groupings followed broader lines. "The noble name of Knight may compre- hend both Duke, Earl, Lord, Knight, squire, yea every gen- tleman and every gentle born," wrote Gascoigne.^^ Indi- vidualism brought by the Renaissance met in opposition to the old conventional structure but refused to demean itself, and the attempt to create further distinctions at court be- tween nobles and gentry resulted in failure. When Lord Oxford insulted Philip Sidney at the tennis court before the French envoy, the latter challenged him to a duel. The queen always ready to support caste distinctions (as when she rebuked Sir Thomas Copley for describing him- self in a letter written in Latin to the King of Spain as "nobilis Anglus,"^^) expostulated with Sidney on the difference between earls and gentlemen, remarking that the latter's disregard of the nobility taught the peasant to insult both. Sidney retorted that the difference in degree between gentlemen only affected their precedence and cited Henry VIII who had protected the gentry against the oppression of the great. Amid confused tendencies there existed a veritable bor- derland between old and new where the vigorous remains 156 TUDOR IDEALS of old prejudices fought novel ideas. Sidney himself whose father had suffered because of inferiority in his degrees of heraldry accounted it his "chiefest honour to be a Dudley" and defended his uncle Leicester against scurrilous attacks which accused him of every crime, by dwelling on the antiquity of his lineage although this was disputed by Sussex who dubbed Leicester an upstart with only two ancestors both of whom had been traitors. The second half of the Sixteenth Century in England marked a distinct conservative reaction over the disorder of the first half. The flood gates which had then been open were now closed once more and no longer conduced to those sudden and abrupt changes whjch raised fortune's favourites to the highest eminence. The growth and dif- fusion of wealth and education had become more gradual. After the wholesale expropriations, a new landed conser- vatism was built afresh which has continued until our own day. The social structure tended increasingly to shape itself into a kind of boundary wall high, yet by no means inaccessible, which encompassed private life. It remained a citadel of prestige rather than of power. The transitions between classes were no longer sharp in their suddenness but sloughed into gradual lines of demarcation. Especially significant was the rise of a wealthy middle class who remained in the towns. The letter writer Chamberlain was of this type, and became an ancestor of the man about town, cultivated and witty, who in the Eighteenth Century frequented cofi^ee houses. Indepen- dent in his own position he had little wish to rise or to de- mean himself by homage to the great. Writing to a friend who asked him to call on a peer he said, "Howsoever well they use me, yet methinks still I am not of mine element when I am among Lords, and I am of Rabelais' mind that they look big comme un Milord d'Angleterre." ^^ IX. THE THEORY OF ARISTOCRACY Characteristic of the Renaissance desire to obtain deeper insight into life were the theories devised to ex- plain every sphere of human activity. Among the principal questions discussed was the in- tellectual justification for aristocracy. It had puzzled the Greeks and occupied the Italians, and more than ever amid the shifting currents of the age it came up before English minds. In practice the Tudors had wel- comed ability from whatever level it rose. The appar- ent haphazardness of such a system disturbed scholars who, trained amid less practical standards of judgment, thought themselves philosophers because they read Aris- totle. Their ideas carried little weight with those in power but they are of interest by their wish to associate authority with virtue, and create a real as well as an etymological analogy. The identification of nobility with spiritual qualities so often expressed in the Renaissance was a return to the moral standards of antiquity. Aristotle's maxim that virtue and riches are the origin of nobility had been the starting point for all medieval writers, who did not attempt to harmonize the feudal practice around them with the ideal structure of their ideas. Chaucer quoted Dante in his "Wife of Bath," that whereas ancestors can bequeath possessions, with- out virtuous living "even a Duke or an Earl is but a churl. "^ Opinion in this was consistent. The " Romaunt of the Rose" said that no one is gentle by his lineage alone but whoso that is virtuous. Without gentle birth one may still be a gentleman, by acting as one.^ The Scottish poets like Gawain Douglas and Flenryson whose culture was medieval, also gave prominence to IS7 158 TUDOR IDEALS virtue as the essence of nobility.^ The notorious Dudley, in his "Tree of Commonwealth" placed nobility on a pinnacle of virtue that has never been surpassed.^ Even so original a thinker as More had nothing new to say on this subject. In his life of Pico della Mirandola he repeats the commonplaces about nobility of ancestors conferring none on their descendants, those who decline from the standard set being all the more reprehensible. Amid much Sixteenth Century writing on this subject most authors merely reiterate the current platitudes of their predecessors. In his CortegianOy Castiglione^ had discerned many practical reasons for approaching this question from an- other side and with the realism of his nation took into account popular prejudices. The same was true of the Portuguese humanist Osorius, whose work on nobility was also translated into English. After stating that there was no apparent reason why noble blood should have preference, since it signified neither greater courage, virtue, nor ability, he remarked that nobility might seem vain, if one did not examine the structure of nature and realize that there is no real equality. Certain traits predominate in every nation and stock, and it was natural for those descended of a noble line to preserve virtues which brought glory to their house. The essence of nobility is nothing else than this spark grafted in some family of renown. In spite of the seeming injustice of government by a few, in the end it worked to the state's advantage.® "From God only proceedeth all honour," wrote Sir Thomas Elyot, perhaps the first Englishman to bestow serious attention on this subject.^ He advanced a fan- tastic theory about the origin of nobility. In the begin- ning when all things were equal and shared in common, property and dignity had been allotted by mutual consent to the meritorious. Like so many others, he analyzed the essence of nobility to find it partly in lineage. Where THE THEORY OF ARISTOCRACY 159 virtue is joined to great possessions or dignities, nobil- ity is most evident, and he repeats the old image of it being like an ancient robe, which worn by each succes- sive owner required continual repair. Nobility was also the external praise and honour by which certain actions were surrounded rather than the actions in themselves. He was not so sure whether virtue is the deed or the hon- our attached to it. Like Montesquieu, he realized that honour was the vital principle of an aristocracy, and Elyot's avowed purpose was to strengthen this element in the state. The intention of his writing was to pre- pare a future governing class selecting them preferably from the upper classes, both because they were less subject to corruption on account of their wealth, and because virtue in a gentleman is commonly coupled with courtesy and mildness. The three qualities he re- marked, inherent in the gentleman were affability, placa- bility, and mercy which is the greatest of them all. Among Elyot's contemporaries several concerned them- selves with this subject. Bishop Fisher tries to analyze nobility into its different origins of blood, manners, na- ture, and marriage.^ Bishop Poynet, with more daring, discerned nobility in tyrannicide and deeds actuated by patriotism.^ Among the popular writers, Crowley after expressing the opinion that the gentleman had been ap- pointed by God to rule the common people, stated a grievance of the time in remarking that he should try not to have deer parks. ^° It is useless to repeat the hackneyed ideas of writers like Lawrence Humphrey and Ascham. The latter so vigorous in relating personal impressions, had little new to say in developing a theory which he borrowed mainly from the ancients. ^^ Another writer, Blundevile, repeats as an old saying the maxim that the Prince may make a nobleman but not a gentleman. ^^ A swarm of writers in the latter years of the century found little to add to the fact that virtuous qualities pertained to the i6o TUDOR IDEALS gentleman ^^ and any derogation from these caused a lapse in nobility. Some reverted frankly to the Middle Ages for the pedi- gree of their ideas. Gervase Markham, refashioning Dame Juliana Berners, discovers the essence of caste in the angelic hierarchy and the origin of churls in Cain's action, while Christ was an "absolute gentleman" entitled by Mary to wear coat armour.^* Amid much nonsense a definite ideal of the gentleman was then created. "Who- soever wrongeth in any sort the meanest that is, cannot in any equity merit the name of gentleman" wrote Geoffrey Fenton ^^ with words which still deserve quota- tion. Neither Leigh, Feme, nor Bossewell, all of whom dis- cussed the question, have anything new to say. The latter expressed a current Renaissance view, though hardly the historical one, when he says that arms were first given to those who achieved excellence in anything "some for their studies, some by feats of arms, some for their great posses- sions or long continuance of their blood. "^^ Learning and arms are at the basis of nobility " and in my poor conceit hardly deserveth he any title of honour or gentility that doth not take pleasure in the one or the other. " So wrote Segar ^"^ who lamented the overfondness of most English gentlemen for sport and pleasure. By war many men of low degree have attained great dignity and fame, for the profession of arms is "the very source, mother, and foundation of nobility. "^^ Later writers like Peacham confirm such opinions, while others like H. Baldwin and Ludowick Bryskett ap- proached the subject from the moral side only to reach similar conclusions.^^ With ideas borrowed from Aristotle and percolating through Italian and French sources, all tried to create an ideal automaton of virtues which they could dub the pattern of a gentleman. The conclusion reached was in the nature of a compromise between the theoretical THE THEORY OF ARISTOCRACY i6i sides of excellence derived from blood as in the opinion of the vulgar, or by virtue which was that of philos- ophers. The limitations in an age's ideals can rarely be charged to any one nation. It was the merit of Sixteenth Century England to have borrowed freely from the ideas which were then the common fund of European civilization, though the influence of foreign writers is at times diffi- cult to detect. Certainly the Renaissance theory inclined toward a natural aristocracy open to talent which con- cerned itself little with abstract ideas either of virtue or of lineage. The whimsical fancies of a Cornelius Agrippa asserted that the commons take their beginning in Abel, the nobles in Cain, and proved with more historical method that no kingdom in the world but began with murder, cruelty, and slaughter as the first arts of nobility. If one could not obtain nobility through murder (in war) he ad- vised its purchase with money and if this is impossible let the applicant be a royal parasite, or marry a discarded mistress or illegitimate child of a prince.^° The diversity of ideas born in different nations helped to form that strange hodgepodge of culture in which the Elizabethans flourished. Culled from every direction, all traced their origin back to antiquity, and all, as they passed through different skeins, were reunited in the genius of Eliza- bethan poetry. The literary men of the age had little to add to the stock beliefs. Some with deep religious feeling like Bishop Bale found the perfection of nobility in true faith, others re- peated the ancient commonplaces. Gascoigne could re- iterate " The greater birth the greater glory sure If deeds maintain their ancestors' degree." (Steel Glas, p. 75) and a poetaster like Barnaby Googe reverted to the old adage: i62 TUDOR IDEALS "If their natures gentle be Though birth be never so base Of gentlemen (for mete it is) They ought have name and place." (3d Eclogue.) Spenser trying in vain to revive the dead chivalry had sufficient penetration to realize the futility of his efforts. In spite of his own middle class birth he wished to exalt the excellence of blood which reveals itself no matter how deformed. He commends those who seek by right de- serts, to attain the true type of nobility and do not call on vain titles obtained from distant ancestors. Yet with all his reverence for waning traditions he was conscious of how remote was the practice of nobility from its theory.^^ In "All's Well That Ends Well" the king in seeking to induce the Count of Roussillon to marry the poor physician's daughter comments on the original identity of blood and of how dignities without virtue are but "dropsical honour." Lyly with his predilections for the court yet takes no different view. Though gentle ac- tions bespeak gentle blood,^^ it is virtue and not the descent of birth but of conditions that makes gentle- men. ^^ While high position requires high virtue, no writer brought out more emphatically than Lyly the moral aspects of dignities in the state even if most of his ideas are derived from Plutarch. He helped to discover the "gentleman" to the Elizabethan world. It was no longer the nobleman or knight of whom he spoke nor even the "freeman" as Sidney called himself. With Lyly we have the modern designation of the word. Though the associ- ation between position and virtue did not always corre- spond, the ideal he held was high. X. THE PREPARATION FOR LIFE The conventional labelling of periods in history is apt to mislead by the suggestion of abrupt change. Tradi- tions of ignorance inherited from the Middle Ages, long survived the supposed advent of an age of enlighten- ment. Side by side with the new, and interwoven with it in every proportion, ran old ideas to carry on the continuity of British life. The habits of intellectual sloth had become so ingrained that the significance of the new secular revelation passed almost unnoticed during its early stages, as something which concerned only scholars. The diffusion of Re- naissance culture was destined to suffer in England be- cause of this association. Instead of being accepted on its merits, as a channel of civilization, the fact that it was mainly sponsored by men who diverted it to theo- logical studies made it seem of indifferent interest save to an elect few. The ignorance of many of the upper classes continued as before to disgrace the country. The historian of Henry VIII has remarked that of the three greatest noblemen of that reign the Duke of Buckingham, the Duke of Suffolk, and the Marquis of Dorset, it would be hard to say who was the most illiterate.^ In spite of the example set by the royal family, the importance of education was not widely appreciated. So late as the reign of Edward VI, there were peers who could not write their own names, and Roger Ascham alluded with sadness to the many ashamed to be thought learned.^ Even much later, in- sufficient attention was given to children's education,^ and the poor instruction of English youth became no- torious abroad. Leicester, who judged as a man of the world, complained of their tendency to brawl among 163 i64 TUDOR IDEALS themselves, and wrote that " the cockney kind of bringing up at this day of young men" would later be regretted.'* Fortunately a different picture can as well be drawn, and in this contrast between boorish ignorance and the most gifted cultivation lay an extraordinary feature of the time. The new ideas spread through circles which wi- dened as they descended. Naunton writing of Eliza- beth's youth could say that "letters about this time and somewhat before began to be of esteem and in fashion.^ Until this process of dilution produced a superficial level, the anomaly existed of crass ignorance, and brilliant cul- tivation, with many intermediate blends, all going to form a society ill fused in its culture and in its sympa- thies. The confused expression which marked the first half of the Sixteenth Century in England was due in no small measure to the clash of ideas emanating from the neighbourhood of such differently trained elements. North of the Alps a certain medieval crabbedness sur- vived which caused studies to be judged not on their merits but because of moral qualities.^ Englishmen, unlike the great Italians of the Renaissance, did not give themselves over to the pure cultivation of the mind nor consciously tried to shape themselves as perfect all around men. The British ideal was at once more practical and more deeply tinged with religious feeling emanating from a clerical origin, which had never been completely secularized and remained a little in awe lest classical studies should detract from the moral element at the basis of education. The goal in view aimed to prepare men for practical life rather than as scholars. At its best it created a well- rounded type of man who after receiving the impress of classical culture in his youth, was never able, altogether, to forget this. Other circumstances brought out the age's brilliancy. Music was a common accomplishment and the writing of verse a courtly tradition. These two gifts combined with the taste for arms, and a service which THE PREPARATION FOR LIFE 165 comported public duties, produced a type of unusual at- tainments whose gifts partly natural, partly developed, came through other circumstances than the conscious de- sire for perfection. To this extent individualism in Eng- land was a less artificial phenemenon than in Italy. Per- haps the existence of a great national ideal larger than any personality, restrained Englishmen within a more modest and yet more useful sphere. An educational method was elaborated almost from the cradle. The elemental requirement of all Renaissance in- struction was a thorough classical training. Children were to be taught to speak pure Latin before they were seven, at which age they were expected to begin Greek. and music. Sir Thomas Elyot in advocating these ideas was not ex- ceptional. William Kempe urged that serious instruction should begin at five, when the boy's mind was to be trained to eloquence by his tutor. He was to study Eng- lish grammar and devote his spare time to reading until he was seven. After that the scheme of education pro- posed Latin conversation and composition, and later Greek and Hebrew until the age of twelve when the higher education of rhetoric and logic might begin.'' At sixteen the boy should be ready for service to his country. Pic- colomini's "Moral Institution" which was widely read in England portrayed the perfect child, and outlined for him a scheme of education, which at fourteen expected a boy to be proficient in music, poetry, and drawing. Great attention was also given to sport which fitted in with the former knightly type of education. Italian wri- ters had dwelt on such training as forming the balance between mind and body, and Englishmen welcomed this side of training. It was proper for gentlemen to take pleasure in such exercises, ride well, run fair at the tilt, play at all weapons, and scholars were urged to maintain their health of body.^ The numerous educational treatises of the age Invariably impress one by the high pressure of instruction. The tend- i66 - TUDOR IDEALS ency was to hasten the preparation of youth and to make Hfe begin earlier. Wolsey had been a bachelor of arts at fifteen, Sidney at fourteen went to Oxford. The rapid changes of the time, and its lack of orderly progression, caused youth to be brought into earlier contact with life and preparation to be correspondingly anticipated. The methods of approaching life were overcharged without due recognition of what was to follow. Beyond the study of the classics and the training in weapons, there was little agreement of purpose. A few far seeing minds were painfully conscious of the incom- pleteness of the system which stopped short at the very threshold of life. Educational plans were a favourite pas- time and the attempt was at times made in these to try to catch up with the rapid progress of national evolu- tion. The most interesting of all was Humphrey Gilbert's plan of an academy to fit scholars for action where those not interested in the dead tongues could learn the modern. Appreciating the wide gulf which existed between theory and life, he formulated an educational ideal to prepare youth in the widest sense for national service. Differing from Oxford and Cambridge where only learning was sought, they were to study "matters of action meet for present practices both of peace and war. "^ The purpose of the institution was to offer a suitable practical education to men of family, "and then younger brothers may eat grass if they cannot achieve to excel. " The programme of studies embraced civil government and finances, martial exercises, navigation, and surgery. This was the real humanist ideal applied to Hfe with its vision of a new England venturing into distant lands. Gilbert had real- ized the promise of what the colonies were to mean for British expansion, but his suggestion met with no re- sponse from the most parsimonious of rulers. The theoretical basis of the Renaissance preparation for life was essentially aristocratic. The educational ideal did not concern itself with the leavening of the masses THE PREPARATION FOR LIFE 167 but with the cultivation of the few. Its preparation bore in mind high station in Hfe and nearly always the service of the state as an ultimate goal. To this extent it is unfortunate that it took so little cognizance of the real genius of the age. The wells of national energy were often sunk lower beneath its notice, and affected levels that educators did not attempt to reach. XL THE ART OF WAR The practice of warfare which developed out of the feudal system was not conducive to enterprises of pro- tracted scope. The medieval structure had been adapted to a somewhat primitive society and was suited to easy territorial mobilization which enlisted personal incentive so long as conquest offered the hope of booty. Eng- lishmen learned to their cost, that it was less efficacious in fighting a protracted defensive war in France, yet no far-reaching plan of collective effort replaced the feudal idea. The Tudor crown which had been strong enough to destroy the feudal power, was unprepared to substi- tute itself on a large scale in making any direct claim on its subjects' service in war. Its early efforts tended to rely for normal exigencies on elements that it could al- ways control. Henry VII's creation of a bodyguard in which he followed continental example was due to this idea. Foreign mercenaries were popular because better disciplined than the English and more directly respon- sive to the crown. The use of mercenaries as an institution had first been developed in Renaissance Italy where the transformation of war was toward a professional art requiring a high degree of skill, and more intellectual than physical virtues. In England the exploits of Martin Swart's "merrie men" left an enduring impression of what military discipline could accomplish with only slight resources. But two circumstances deterred the English crown from pur- suing any consistent military policy. The absence of any real national foreign danger until toward the end of the Sixteenth Century, and the growing current of individ- ualism, were not conducive to such preparation. In ad- dition the recollection of former victories in France acted i68 THE ART OF WAR 169 detrimentally. Men with pride in their traditions are loath to cast aside what has made their success, and the memory of how the long bow had won Crecy and Poitiers caused England to lag far behind the Continent in the art of war. The crown with broader vision occasionally tried to remedy the spirit of national self-sufficiency, which had resulted in such humiliating disasters as the first expedi- tion to Spain. Henry VIII welcomed Italian military captains and engineers who brought with them a new knowledge of tactics, of ordnance, and of fortifications, hardly known north of the Alps. Later under Protector Somerset, the successes obtained over the Scotch at Pinkie came from the superior discipline of Italian, Spanish, and Albanian mercenaries. The employment of foreigners was, however, a temporary expedient resorted to by the government and dropped as soon as the emer- gency had passed. The nation's interest in military prep- aration was desultory and spasmodic. Later Queen Elizabeth was greatly blamed for the avaricious short- sightedness which caused her to neglect the national defences. Leicester at Tilbury was a commander with- out an army, while English powder magazines remained empty. The test of military policy came In placing the coun- try in a state of preparedness. The defence of the realm by the entire nation was always an ideal held in mind,^ but it was one which was never lived up to. From time to time enrolments took place ^ but there was little con- tinuity of policy, or clear-sighted idea of what was neces- sary. Archery was encouraged as the traditional English weapon and the bow was regarded as "the defence and wall of our country. " ^ The proverbial courage of the English was attributed by the French to the use of the long bow which was only serviceable at close quarters.'* With certain exceptions for clergy and magistrates all I70 TUDOR IDEALS Englishmen were supposed to practice archery, and Hol- inshed remarked with sanguine overstatement, that every parish kept its supply of armour and munition ready at an hour's notice, and that there was no village in England so poor that it could not equip three or four soldiers. The facts of the matter were that military preparation was notoriously deficient, and that no serious effort was made to overcome this, while in military science England remained singularly backward. The theoretical aspects of war and the practical aspects of military policy were hardly known. The framework of an army did not exist, with the result seen in the wretched ending of many mil- itary ventures. In the conduct of such military operations as were undertaken, there was extraordinary diversity, due to lack of capacity and lack of discipline. In Dorset's ex- pedition to Spain in 151 2 the men were guilty of coward- ice and indiscipline and finally sailed back to England without orders. At Ancrum Moor an English army fled, just as a Scottish army had done at Solway Moss, and in Surrey's campaign at Boulogne the troops bolted. Such discreditable incidents occur repeatedly. At the sielge of Havre, where Mary had expected that her resistance would enormously benefit Philip of Spain, the forts were taken by the French almost without loss. "It is a source of shame to the English," wrote Chantonnay. The lack of discipline was often lamented and at the siege of Guines in 1558 when Lord Grey refused to sur- render, his soldiers threatened to fling him over the walls.^ Worst of all, at Alost in 1583, the English garrison not only surrendered disgracefully but turning traitors joined the Spaniards under Parma. The same thing happened later when William Stanley and Rowland Yorke, both of whom had been in Leicester's intimacy, went over to the enemy. An experienced soldier like Sir John Norris felt alarm at the landing of a single Spanish regiment of reg- ulars in a land so unprepared as England.^ THE ART OF WAR 171 It is perfectly possible to reconcile such facts with the spirit of heroism associated with the age. During the first half of the century, the traditions of an army were inexist- ent. The nation had cast off its feudal structure without adequately replacing this. The old organization which had been suited to the wants of a primitive community, pre- served certain standards for which others had not yet been substituted. When the need arose for a military operation, the men collected usually in helter-skelter fashion, felt neither discipline, duty nor the obligations of service. Leicester in the Low Countries was greatly troubled by the unruliness of his subordinates and the perpetual bickerings among these.^ Old traditions had lapsed while new ones were still un- born, and the result became apparent in many deplorable occurrences. Except for the display of courage, profes- sional standards of honour were hardly existent. Cap- tains were accused of leading their companies into battle to "enrich themselves by their dead pays. "^ The army was a prey to rascals who swindled their own men. Sir Henry Knyvett denounced the officers "who had made mer- chandise of their places" and Spenser had the same tale to tell.^ Discreditable incidents occurred as a natural re- sult among the soldiery. In Flanders, they pillaged the Dutch peasants whom they were supposed to protect, and who had to organize in self-defence against them. In Ire- land the disaster at Armagh, where the soldiers fled, aban- doning arms and standards, was the result of such a sys- tem. Yet in spite of lamentable occurrences there were acts unsurpassed for high courage. Leicester, always criti- cal of his men, relates such an incident at Zutphen, which though he lived a hundred years he could never forget.^" The adventurous spirit of the race came to the fore in many an exploit abroad. If the genius of the age was un- able to attain concerted effort it furnished brilliant individ- ual example of skill and courage. Gentlemen volunteers 172 TUDOR IDEALS became the fashion, and there was hardly a foreign cam- paign whether in Spain, or in Hungary, where Englishmen were not found. They were conspicuous for their valour among the Huguenots in France, and when at the Valois Court complaints were made about this the English Am- bassador retorted that although the Sultan and France were allied, yet Frenchmen fought against the Turk with- out the king being able to prevent this.^^ Camden enumerates with pride those English gentle- men who feeling that they were born to arms and not to idleness had joined the Imperial forces to fight the Sultan. ^^ Such warfare incited the spirit of adventure at the same time as it produced a new cosmopolitanism acquired on the battlefields and in the camps of Europe. Toward the end of Elizabeth's reign, England was full of soldiers re- turned from the wars, and London of captains raising companies for service abroad. ^^ The imagination of the people was stirred by their tales. Among the reasons which made for the extreme individ- ualism of the English genius in the Sixteenth Century, was the fact that its contact with life other than its own, came from so many diverse sources. The different ele- ments in European civilization reacting on each other, were brought into close touch through war as much as through peace. Such interchange and multiple impres- sion came about by the odd jumble of forces in the field. The barriers between states were levelled in contests where religion was the cry and adventure the goal. Continen- tal warfare drew Englishmen from their shell, and made them partisans of causes which brought them into famili- arity with a very different life from what they had known. In such struggles while English participation was never on a scale sufficient to mould the nation it yet leavened and enriched it. The infusion of French, Spanish, and Italian words entering undigested into the language, came from inconspicuous soldiers rather than from schol- ars and courtiers. A ferment was brought in by the THE ART, OF WAR 173 former to give a new wealth of experience to the monotony of life. For the first time the military career opened a fresh field to the individual. There had been earlier examples of Englishmen gaining distinction in quarrels not their own, like the famous Sir John Hawkwood, but these were rather isolated instances. The novelty of the Renais- sance lay in the world lying open to the adventurer, and of men shaking off the roots which bound them to their homes. If England produced no great military leader save perhaps Mountjoy, she brought forth plenty of capable soldiers who profited elsewhere by their courage and experience. The colonizing energy of Raleigh, Smith, "and Roger Williams, had gained experience on the battlefields of Europe. The career of arms attracted the adventurer of every kind. "Every soldier being enrolled in the king's pay is reputed a gentleman," Segar could quote approvingly from Marshal Trivulzio.^^ A soldier however basely born if he had honourably followed the profession of arms should be admitted in single combat to fight with other gentlemen. The military profession divorced from feudal or terri- torial idea thus entered into English life. Depending only on the free will of the individual it opened a career for whoever was possessed of daring and ambition and provided an honourable occupation for gentlemen. Phi- losophers praised it as bringing out virtues of sacrifice and devotion,^'^ while the double ideal of letters and arms was illustrated in many men of that time, till it can be regarded as characteristic of the Renaissance. Although the state failed to create any large military policy, the personal incentive from above spurred men to seek dis- tinction in war. The success of the age never came from handling the mass, but the individual, and the latter responded to the new impulse in arms. Queen Elizabeth loved the soldier. 174 TUDOR IDEALS and her courtiers took this as an invitation to win honour in the wars.^^ The Netherlands were called the queen's nurseries where reckless exposure became the fashion. Thomas Churchyard, poet and soldier, writing to ask a recommendation for service there could say, "The last reward of a soldier is death; this do I desire as a man that have made choice though unworthy of that profes- sion. I covet to die like a soldier and a true subject." ^^ To this fashion of exposure competent observers attrib- uted the absence of good generals. The scientific- con- ception of warfare as it was understood in Italy and Spain was hardly known in England. Those who showed promise were cut off in their prime by reckless gallantry. "In our countries we can scarcely find a veteran com- mander and this is owing simply to our recklessness. The Spaniards alone are free from this species of mad- ness and therefore they possess generals of the utmost experience in the art of war who eflfect far more by genius than by strength," wrote Languet to Sidney.^^ Yet the latter's sacrifice of his life was not to be in vain. The anonymous translator of Aristotle's "Politics" could write of Philip Sidney, in his dedication as one "who in the last age of the declining and degenerating world would have honourably emulated those ancient worthies. " PART III IDEALS OF LIFE AND THOUGHT I. IDEALS IN ENGLISH LIFE Certain contemporary ideals may have exercised little prac- tical effect on life but they cannot be lightly dismissed because of this. Apart from representing lone voices in the wilderness, many of the ideas originally born in the Sixteenth were to reappear in the Eighteenth Century. The belief of Rousseau in the virtuous savage was al- ready current in the Renaissance. In Starkey's curi- ous dialogue Cardinal Pole is represented as arguing against the idea of man's gradual rise to civil life in favour of savages without "policy." Men in the forest away from laws and regulations who there pursue virtue, were nearer to the manner of life in the golden age when man lived according to his natural dignity.^ One effect of the revival of antiquity was to make men think once more in Platonic terms. In a life of struggle the mind turns toward dreams of a perfect world. Thomas More, devout Christian though he was, in "Utopia" abandons entirely the ascetic medieval ideal. The folk of his fancy judge it "extreme madness to follow sharp and painful virtue, and not only to banish the pleasure of life, but also willingly to suffer grief without any hope of profit thereof ensuing. " ^ Felicity was to rest in honest pleasure. The ideal world as represented by More, with its sympathy for the poor, its indignation at injustice and its wide tolerance, was more than a noble fancy. In a period of such rapid change as marked the begin- ning of the Sixteenth Century in England, character could with difficulty develop in rigid moulds and Paulet's famous epigram about the willow was typical of many who had not the frankness to admit such pliability. Conditions were too fluid to develop a fixed type or leave more than 177 178 TUDOR IDEALS a vague consciousness which grouped itself around the na- tional growth. If exceptions like Fisher and More stand out, the great majority of the nation in its various crises waited to know who would be successful before taking sides, though occasional disgust was felt at such "neu- ters" as worse than the most arrant traitors.^ Undue caution and a lack of generosity and impulse vitiated the character of many Englishmen in the first half of the century. Men felt little at ease in that strange whirlpool of ideas. With most of their early convictions sapped or destroyed, there was small room for elevation of the mind. Amid the rapid transition all former organized groupings of authority had been profoundly affected. The struggle had been too intense, and the wounds were still too raw for a nobler plant to grow at once. The great mass groped in blindness little able to explain the changes to themselves and without more conscious purpose than to pursue the normal activities of existence. Their imagination was as yet unfired by anything more ennobling. The rude discipline of the struggle for faith was still in its be- ginning. The danger from Spain had not yet appeared. The world beyond the seas was almost unknown. Out of these three elements the future developed. In- wardly, conditions settled gradually. Newly rich and newly ennobled were absorbed by the land, and their chil- dren and their grandchildren entered into its life in the same way as those who had been attached to it for cen- turies. But other ideals created in an age of chivalry and feudalism were well-nigh dead, and a period of tran- sition occurred before conditions were again ripe to develop fresh beliefs. The new ones arose out of the circumstances of the age. The edifices built by philosophers made but little impression on the nation's mind, but the persecu- tion of the faith responded to real necessities. As soon as men believed that their souls were in danger, they be- came ready to risk their lives and the same was true when they felt their land to be in danger. The English charac- IDEALS IN ENGLISH LIFE 179 ter is normally slow in its response, and sluggish to arouse. In the Sixteenth Century, it took longer to understand the new conditions of life than did other European natioftsr But once these had filtered into the race it re- acted to them vigorously. Life was grouped around a pa- triotism inspired by the fear of the land being in danger, but embracing two widely different yet connected chan- nels. The one of Protestantism which made England a bulwark in the struggle against Rome, and Eliza- beth the centre of the citadel, the other of adventure which served a patriotic goal in the sense that it was mainly directed against Spain, but which also grouped around it the different virtues out of which the greatness of England was to rise. The old caution gave way to a new restlessness. English gentlemen embarked as pi- rates for distant seas satisfied v/ith the sanction that their enterprise was against Spain. A new daring inspired English soldiers and made them adventure into "many dangerous and vain exploits. " ^ Reckless courage be- came the most prized virtue. Never was the transfor- mation of a people more sudden. The changes in national traits are among the most baf- fling facts before historians. There is always the wish to find a great current of unity inspiring a race from its earli- est times. This rarely corresponds to truth. It is only necessary to study the example of Ireland where, since the Middle Ages, men of English blood exchanged their English characteristics for Irish, and the conscious na- tionalism of British policy failed before the realism of life. National traits depend far more on circumstances and conditions than on blood. The English although an insular people, never became a seafaring race until events in the Sixteenth Century guided them to find their future on the water. In its conscious ideal the Sixteenth Century shook off the religious mould of previous ages. It is odd to find even a clerical writer like Starkey openly expressing a i8o TUDOR IDEALS secular conception of life. The perfect man, he wrote, was he who did his duty in spite of perils and of adversity. Far more praiseworthy is such a man than one who out of fear of danger seeks repose in a convent.^ Monastic seclusion was no longer an inspiration. The Renaissance replaced such Christian ideals by those taken from an- tiquity. The new moral training of education came from Greece and Rome, although a cynic could then write "we hold most of their vices but what suppressed their vices and kept them in awe we have not. "^ Yet stoic phi- losophy left a stamp of elevation on the finer minds of the age, and Walsingham with a pagan ideal in his soul wrote that though a man achieve not honour by doing worthy acts, yet he is happier than one that gets it with- out desert.' 11. DEMOCRATIC TENDENCIES With fresh outlets for energy before the individual, the first half of the Sixteenth Century was a period of too rapid evolution to permit fixed conditions to be estab- lished. Respect for convention ceases during a crisis. In "The Tempest" the boatswain remarks on the waves' indifference to the name of king, and reminds Gonzalo that though two princes were aboard, there was none he loved better than himself. Times of rapid change favour men from every class coming to the fore. There may have been in this little that was, in itself, democratic beyond the equality of opportunity, but it meant that the race for success was open to all. In spite of subsequent recessions it admitted a new principle which with the spread of education reduced the divisions of caste. An occasional effort toward agrarian communism had existed in the Middle Ages, inherited from primitive times. The famous lines of John Ball — " When Adam delved and Eve span, who was then the gentleman" — were heard on the occasion of every peasant rising. But the people asserted themselves too spasmodically to ef- fect a permanent impression. Not till the Sixteenth Century did classical cultivation awaken the memo- ries of antiquity on the subject of human freedom. Eras- mus in his Ante Polemus wrote of princes with fine con- stitutional spirit, "What power and sovereignty soever you have, you have it by the consent of the people. And if I be not deceived, he that hath authority to give hath authority to take away again." The discovery of the lower classes was one of the ef- fects of the Reformation. During the Middle Ages, i8i i82 TUDOR IDEALS peasants had hardly been considered worthy of notice. With the growth of intellectual curiosity and the seed of democratic ideas, the cultivated began to look below them. Wolsey's dying advice to the king had been to dis- trust the people. '^ Prior to the Eighteenth Century, nearly all political thought savours of such distrust. The instability and fickleness of the mob was brought out else- where than in Julius Caesar.^ Expressions of democracy were infrequent. Its force was still inarticulate and one discerns its existence rather by the arguments employed against it than by its own defence. Only an occasional reformer like Brynklow could suggest as a practical plan that lords and burgesses sit together in one house. ^ A few favoured an ideal of communism though less vi- olently in England than in Germany. It is remarkable that this should have met with real sympathy from a future Chancellor like More. No one has ever brought out more forcibly the contrast between the over remuner- ation of certain classes and the miserable condition ot the workers.^ His idea of the state with its socialized activities is communistic and in certain respects far more radical than modern doctrine. Full of sympathy for the wretchedness of the working classes whose starva- tion wages left them unable to save for their old age, he felt the injustice of a condition which gave great re- wards "to gentlemen as they call them" and none to the real toilers, and denounced such a state as being one in which the wealthy got together to defraud the poor under the name of law. No modern socialist attacking property could be more violent than this future Lord Chancellor inveighing against the economic evils of his time. The idea of common property where men did not la- bour for private gain had been frequent among preachers like Thomas Lever. Except for More, few of the economic reformers possessed practical intelligence. Crowley, who urged merchants to refrain from making more money also advised sons to continue their fathers* trades. Wide- DEMOCRATIC TENDENCIES 183 spread dissatisfaction gave occasion for the expression of sympathy to the poor and the wish to redress their griev- ances. A system of rewards for industry was recom- mended as it was recognized that laws could not set every- thing right nor compel men to be industrious.^ In a curious pamphlet of the age, a merchant and knight ar- gue about primacy, till the ploughman who enters de- clares that gentleman and beggar come from one stock and that virtue alone gives superiority. The conclusion favoured elective government for a term of years with rulers curbed by stringent laws.^ The spiritual foundation for democracy came, however, from religion. Already, Polydore Vergil had expressed belief that it began among the ancient Hebrews "which were ruled by a popular state. "'^ The primitive faith of Christianity which the reformers aimed to revive, was democratic in spirit. Latimer preached that before God's Judgment Seat all would be equal since princes and ploughman were alike made of one matter.^ A growing sympathy for the poor was felt and its expression at times assumed a form which partly through religious, partly through classical influence would now be called demo- cratic. When under Henry VIII the Canterbury school changed from monkish to lay hands certain of the com- missioners appointed to carry this out tried to restrict future pupils to gentlemen's sons, saying that the others were better fitted for the plough and handicrafts, than to be learned, and only those of gentle birth were to have "the knowledge of government and rule in the Common- wealth. " Cranmer opposed this as being contrary to the Divine Will whose gifts were given indifferently to any class, and told the commissioners that though they were themselves gentlemen born yet they all sprang from lowly beginnings and owed their elevation to education. And he said "If the gentleman's son be apt to learning let him be admitted; if not let the poor man's child apt, enter his room.^ The first bill introduced into the House of i84 TUDOR IDEALS Commons in Edward VFs reign was one "for bringing up poor men's children. "^^ If not the direct outcome of Brynklow's ideas for needy children to be educated at the expense of the community it showed the existence of a new feeling for the poor. In the interest taken in social re- form by men like Lupset, Brynklow and Crowley, John Hales and Thomas Lever, real sympathy for the less fortunate classes was expressed. The early manifestations of democracy were less with respect to secular than to church affairs. The study of the Bible awakened the first revolt against authority, though the idea that the State must dominate the faith of the people was never thrown off in the Sixteenth Cen- tury. Elizabeth showed herself as keen for uniformity as Rome, but reformers who had been to Zurich and Geneva, returned full of ideas of spiritual independence on the part of each community, and in revolt against the crown's authority in matters of religion. The great stimulus given to democratic ideas came from the Conti- nent where the training of communal life had rendered easier its assertion. Calvinism assumed a self-governing form and Lawrence Humphrey, the defender of the aris- tocratic idea, denounced the anabaptists because of their belief that all should have equal rights, ^l When the Puritans in England attacked the bishops they were working toward a Church democracy which soon afterwards assumed so despotic a form in Massa- chusetts. Beyond religious autonomy the next step was political. The Sixteenth Century is usually set down as an age of political reaction, but the new reli- gious ideas brought with them an evolution of the people toward a realization of their rights and became in turn the foundation for future democracy. Thus Puritan dem- ocratic leanings made them show aversion to coat ar- mour.^2 Their writers spoke of the essential equality of all at birth and in death ^^ and allowed only a moral foundation to gentility. The rough equality of all primi- DEMOCRATIC TENDENCIES 185 tive communities with their natural outlets given to ability, were to find fresh vigour in the oversea expansion of England. A curious rhythm of life can be discerned. Where the internal revolution effected by Henry VIII had given free scope to personality, the second half of the cen- tury witnessed the growth of two unconsciously opposing tendencies which supplemented each other. Internally, the greater stability of the state caused a new conservatism of wealth which extending once more over the land built the broad foundations of England which have survived, almost to this day. Parallel with this, the expansion of the nation overseas with its beginning at colonization and its growing trade, caused the free outlet for oppor- tunity. The democratic idea which was still unformed and cherished only in the minds of a few preachers or scholars, could later find its support prepared for it in a more asser- tive and enterprising medium than existed in a conserva- tive agricultural community. Evidence of sympathy for republican Ideas may be discerned in a Lord Chancellor and courtier like Hatton,^^ who contrasts a "popular estate " to a monarchy by remarking not very appropriately, that "a popular es- tate which is perpetual and never dieth because there reigneth no king, always thankfully remembereth and bountifully rewardeth those that have truly and faith- fully served. " There were then greater reactions against the pomp of courts than is commonly supposed. Queen Elizabeth's vanity of apparel has effaced impressions like that of William of Orange "going about in a gown which a mean born student in our Inns of Court would not have worn, while his waistcoat was like what was worn by watermen in England" and his company were "the burgesses of that beer-brewing town."^^ The trend toward democracy was also indirect. It touched other tendencies which while not democratic in their intention, became so by their result. The ideal of i86 TUDOR IDEALS virtu characteristic of the Renaissance, meant the abil- ity for personahty to assert itself, unrestricted by any limi- tations. It gave free play to energy and in so far as it transcended all rigid convention its purpose was the same as that offered by democracy. Tamburlaine who creates his generals Kings of Morocco and Algiers tells them "Your birth shall be no blemish to your fame For virtue is the fount where honour springs." (Part I, IV, IV, 131,^?.) Democratic ideas were probably unknown to Marlowe who would, doubtless, have condemned their Puritan taint, but the spirit of free energy and equaUty of oppor- tunity was in his mind. Drayton could, likewise pro- claim that all were born alike and styled those without qualities of their own "Base I proclaim you though derived from Kings." ^^ The conscious belief in democracy remained unfor- mulated, but the conditions were at hand which allowed its later growth by destroying whatever barred the way to a free assertion of personality. Men dreamed of a better state, and reinforced their vision by classical example. Shakespeare pointed to America as the land of promise, and located in the Bermudas the hope of the New World, the land where there were neither rich nor poor, nor rulers nor ruled. III. PATRIOTISM AS AN IDEAL The medieval conception of patriotism reposed on per- sonal loyalty rather than on any definite idea of the state. It arose out of the feudal structure and possessed only a shadowy vision of national consciousness. The feeling toward the latter came gradually and was due to the unification of the nation under Tudor rule and the dis- covery of antiquity acting directly and by suggestion through the example of neighbouring states. Already, in the time of Henry VI when the need for a Navy had became pressing, the shipowners offered to lend and provision their vessels for service.^ The ship- ping community was normally the one which would first respond to the centralizing tendencies of the state. But a long period of civil wars, freedom from serious foreign danger, and the absence of a real foreign policy, were not calculated to bring out patriotism in the nation. Henry VI's queen thought little of inviting the French to sack Sandwich out of hatred to the Duke of York.^ The call- ing in of foreigners was not regarded in the modern light. Caxton contrasted the devotion of the Romans ready to lay down their lives for their country with the weak patriotism he saw about him.^ Fisher pressed for the invasion of England by Charles V; Lord Darcy and Lord Hussey in the North urged the emperor to invade Eng- land promising their support; even Wolsey was accused of a simil-ar wish. Great emotions have fired the spirit of nations far more effectively than the low pressure of more material inter- ests. The lives of states as of individuals, is oftener de- termined by the sudden emotional reactions to danger, than by the continuous response to normal needs. Be- tween the pedestrian view of history which finds its 187 i88 TUDOR IDEALS interest in the chronicle of humdrum events, and the at- tempt to penetrate its spirit at the rare moments when this is Hfted by the fire of something more ennoWing, Hes the difference in its interpretation. By its classical revival the Sixteenth Century learned the civic virtues of antiquity. The Renaissance bor- rowed an antique foundation for its patriotic ideas, quot- ing Plato that men were not born for themselves but for their country. Ancient examples of patriotism were held up admiringly by Sixteenth Century writers who found duty to the state taking the place of the feudal devo- tion to the individual. The feeling grew that the greatest service a man could render was to save his country from danger.^ The ideal of the state became a goal for which everyone could strive. In Machiavelli's words, "Where the welfare of the country is at stake, no consideration can intervene of justice, or injustice, of mercy or cruelty, commendable or ignominious but putting all else aside, one must adopt whatever cause will save its existence and preserve its liberty. " ^ The national spirit asserted on the ruins of feudalism, demanded the use of the vernacular to be substituted for the Latin of the Universal church. The cosmopolitan fabric of Europe as a Christian republic was crumbling, and in its place, national growth was everywhere evident. By an odd paradox the discovery of antiquity was to in- tensify the divergence of states who, out of a common culture, then extracted the sense of their own national consciousness. Early expressions of such ideas came from those who living abroad had been influenced by the new patriotism learned in foreign parts which served to kindle their own. "My King, My Country I seek for whom I live" wrote Wyatt on his return from Spain. An Englishman who had spent his life abroad, and was the first to come under the charm of the new continental schools of poetry, was yet he, in whose PATRIOTISM AS AN IDEAL 189 " lively brain as on a stithe where that some work of fame was daily wrought to Britain's gain a worthy guide to bring Our English youth by travail unto fame." ^ The development of the national spirit grew by its re- action from whatever was foreign. The suggestion that Henry should plead his divorce before a Roman tribunal caused the greatest indignation. The English national spirit had always objected to papal interference, but whereas in the Middle Ages such resentment was confined to few in number, it was now extended numerically among a people morally prepared for the revolt from Rome. The exaltation of royalty was another step toward at- taining such national consciousness. The power of the prince raised to an unprecedented height became the in- termediate condition before vesting the same authority in the state. Various circumstances coincided for inten- sifying patriotism. The royal power firmly grasped, offered a tangible object in place of former loyalties to feudal and religious lords, which had been definitely sapped. Lastly, classical education held out a conscious patriotic ideal borrowed from antiquity. England ac- quiring her new patriotism followed the example taken by other European states whose evolution had been sim- ilar. But where Italy, cursed by foreign interference and internal bickerings, failed to attain unity, and France found it delayed by religious war, England, more fortu- nate, gained this almost at once. The duty of service now became transferred from the feudal lord to the state. The feeling aroused against the new class of middlemen who leased the land was based on the fear of their alleged lack of patriotism and inability " to do the King service. " ^ When Ralph Robinson trans- lated " Utopia" he did so ostensibly as a duty to God and to his country.^ In Starkey's " Dialogue," Cardinal Pole is urged to devote his life to the affairs of the Commonwealth. 190 TUDOR IDEALS Men must have regard for their country's welfare and he who neglects this for the pleasure of his own quiet, does wrong. This was the ancient ideal of civil life revived by the Renaissance. Every individual was expected to do his duty toward the state and place the good of the Common- wealth above everything else.^ The patriotic duty of scholars was pointed out and Sir Thomas Elyot impressed the fact on his reader that the reason for devoting the greater part of his life to studying the ancients came from his wish to benefit his country. ^'^ Patriotism became exalted into the highest virtue and some there were bold enough no longer to identify it with the prince. At a time when personal allegiance was still very strong, an independent thinker like Poynet could maintain that "men ought to have more respect to their country than to their prince; to the commonwealth than to any one person. For the country and the commonwealth is a degree above the King." ^^ This was the principle of the commonwealth party, v/hich later made John Hales write in a similar strain about the citizen's duty to his country. The patriotic ideal was shaped by literature. Gas- coigne impressed their duty to defend the Common- wealth and respond to their country's claim on lords, knights, and squires,^^ and Richard Crompton could say "No man is born only for himself but for his coun- try also."^^ This antique thought ran through letters. Every writer felt he was performing a service toward his fellow countrymen. The feeling of obligation and of ow- ing everything to the State was more than a convention. "The power of one man is far too feeble ever to make his country his debtor," wrote Sir William Cornwallis.^* Religion and patriotism were generally identified in the Sixteenth Century. Faith formed usually so great a part of the national creed that the patriotism of most English Catholics was all the more to their credit. Car- dinal Allen was quick to note that the number of Catho- lics who revolted in England was as nothing compared to PATRIOTISM AS AN IDEAL 191 the Calvinists in France. ^^ The question was open if it was lawful to bear arms in the service of a prince ot another religion, though writers pointed out that, when Pope Julius II found himself in danger, he accepted aid from a squadron of Turks, while Paul IV took Grisons Protestant as his mercenaries.^^ A theory of patriotism derived from different origins grew to fit the circumstances in every country. In Italy, where feudal traditions were weak and the classical ex- ample strong, the excess of individualism triumphed. Loyalty to a sovereign in the northern sense, was there well-nigh unknown, and patriotism, though occasionally intense when not centred on culture was cherished as a remote ideal. In France the closer balance of opposing religious forces and the weaker power of the throne caused many to waver. Brantome describing the Hugue- not La Noue who fought against his king, asked if any real foundation exists for the patriotic ideal and if this was not an invention of Kings and Commonwealths for self- preservation. The Du/ce pro patria mori might have some foundation, he thought, but it was easy to go too far in sacrificing to it all other duties and obligations.^^ Such views were rare. Almost the only contemporary instance of English antipatriotic sentiments are the ones put by Peele in the mouth of Sir Thomas Stukely, who on his way to Ireland to fight the English, and ship- wrecked on the coast of Portugal, is asked by the Portu- guese to explain his conduct in fighting against his sov- ereign and responds: "I may at liberty make choice of all the continents that bound the world For why, I make it not so great desert To be begot or bom in any place." ^^ Even he found it necessary to explain that if the love of the fatherland was alienated it must be because of reli- gion, and not for personal benefit. 192 TUDOR IDEALS England was spared from most of the evils of a divided allegiance by its gradual and comparatively bloodless con- version to Protestantism. The Catholic attempts after the early years of Elizabeth's reign were forlorn hopes. A few misguided fanatics at Douai and Louvain, or in Rome, could plot against the queen. But even Cardinal Allen, thundering the vilest abuse against her, places himself in the attitude of an English patriot, grieved at seeing his nation in heretical hands and eager to devote his life to his "dearest country. "^^ He calls on Philip that "for his singular love to England" of which he once was king, he should take the lead in such a crusade. The excesses of a few fanatics were to do infinite harm to the great mass of English Catholics who amid diffi- cult circumstances were trying to prove their loyalty. Pius V's injudicious bull excommunicating Elizabeth and absolving English Catholics from their allegiance, was deeply resented by the vast majority of these who paid no attention to it, especially when they saw its slight ef- fect on the relations which other Catholic countries maintained with the queen. It served mainly to harm patriotic Catholics who now became objects of distrust and of popular prejudice. Roman intolerance reacted to its own disadvantage and only cast suspicion on its sup- porters. The patriotism of many, who lived and died abroad, unable by force of circumstance to do their duty to England strikes one of the saddest notes of the age. Cardinal Allen's secretary, Roger Bayne, whose life was passed in Italy, wrote with ineffectual conviction of the scholar's duty to leave his seclusion at his country's call and be ready to offer his life in sacrifice.^'' Most English Catholics availed themselves of the sanc- tion given by Sixtus V which authorized obedience to the queen in civil matters. They smarted keenly under the charge of lack of patriotism, and Cardinal Allen himself, in his anonymous "Apologie of the English Seminaries," published at Mons in 1581, protests that the departure of PATRIOTISM AS AN IDEAL 193 Catholics from England was not due to any want of af- fection since their one desire was to serve "our beloved countrie." In the risings against Elizabeth a few Cath- olics, it is true, informed the Spanish Ambassador that they were ready to enter his master's service. But when so staunch a Protestant as Maitland of Lethington, was at one time ready to turn over Scotland and England to Philip as Mary's husband, it is hard to fathom motives which then revolved as much around persons as causes. In spite of the bull of Pius V releasing her subjects from obedience. Fathers Campion and Sherwin when brought to the block, prayed for Elizabeth's prosperity and happiness as their Queen ^^ with the same fervour as the Puritan John Stubbes. Certain English Catholics who accepted service abroad offered, however, strange ex- amples of divided allegiance. John Story, who took the oath of loyalty to the King of Spain and plotted with him against Elizabeth, when afterward tried for treason pleaded in vain his Spanish allegiance.^^ But Sir Thomas Copley who served the King of Spain, refi ains in hardly any of his letters from fulsome exclamations of patriotism in order to prove that though accepting such service he remained at heart a patriotic Englishman. How often he begs the queen for any kind of employ "wherein a good Catholic Christian may without hazard of his soul serve his temporal prince . . . though for the time I live abroad I cannot cease to be an Englishman and love the soil best where I have most freehold."-^ The idea of property was here tied up with that of patriotism. More remarkable was the case of Sir William Stanley who although a Catholic, proved to be one of Elizabeth's ablest soldiers in Ireland and in the Low Countries. He was given various important commands and the govern- orship of Deventer. For reasons which remain obscure, whether because of pique in not having shared in the spoils, or else religious, he surrendered to the enemy with his soldiers, most of whom were Irish Catholics, and en- 194 TUDOR IDEALS tered the Spanish service. Cardinal . Allen, blundering as usual, wrote a defence of his action,^^ on the ground that English intervention in Flanders was piracy and that a Catholic who served a heretic partook of his iniquity. The anonymous author of "Leicester's Commonwealth" makes one of his spokesmen a papist lawyer "but with such moderation and reservation of duty toward his Prince and Country." Diversity of creed from the head of the state was in theory considered to involve an element of treason, but so long as this was not translated into action there was no ground for condemnation. Raleigh could, therefore, exhort all Englishmen "of what religion soever" to join together against the Spaniard. And a less known writer could say "Though we be divided for re- ligion . . . yet I trust that we will wholly faithfully . . . join together in this service of defence of our Prince and country against the enemy. "^^ Elizabeth looked at differences of faith in a purely politi- cal light and 1 er choice of Admiral Lord Howard is the best evidence of her reliance on Catholic loyalty. The hatred of Spain burned deep in the national character and aroused every interest of patriotism, greed, adven- ture and religion. Englishmen could gratify all these at the expense of the Spaniard and Raleigh found pride in the fact that England had first revealed their weakness before the world. ^^ The Spanish forces "at home, abroad, in Eu- rope, in India, by sea and land, we have even with hand- fuls of men and ships overthrown and dishonoured." Those who lost their lives in this crusade could say, like Richard Grenville, that he died "with a joyful and quiet mind, having ended his life as a true soldier ought to do that hath fought for his country, queen, reli- gion and honour.' '^^ The English of Elizabeth's reign were fully conscious of having performed deeds of courage such as had been celebrated by the ancients. Daring, coupled with patriotic purpose, was exalted into an ideal of life. PATRIOTISM AS AN IDEAL* 195 and when Gervase Markham, himself an old soldier, cele- brated the last fight of the "Revenge" he wrote Never shall Greece nor Rome nor Heathen State With shining honour Albion's shine depress." Pride in what Englishmen had done, became every- where apparent. In his relation of Frobisher's Voyages, Beste recites with satisfaction the roll call of English nav- igators whose daring had at times led them to an " hon- ourable death." Though he did not begrudge Spaniards and Portuguese their fame for successes in navigation, yet he remarked they had never encountered such hardships nor such dangers as Englishmen. The feeling of patriotism became intense. When War- wick wrote to encourage Leicester to persist in his for- ward policy in the Low Countries in the face of the queen's displeasure, it was on the ground of its benefit to Eng- land.^^ The modern idea of patriotism as something separate from the crown although associated therewith, was growing. The centralization of authority made this possible for the first time. The dignity of England was above everything and could make men forget their per- sonal animosities. The French Ambassador de Maisse was impressed by Essex urging him to call on his greatest enemy Burleigh, and wrote, lis ont de grans respects les uns aux autresP Coming himself from a court torn by personal dissensions he admired the fact that these could be kept under and that avowed enemies treated each other with respect. Yet patriotism as a living growth was only deeply roused by the presence of real danger. No one cared after a dis- aster in Ireland suffered at the hands of Tyrone; such general indifference was laid down to "a careless and insen- sible dulness. "^° When it was falsely rumoured in London that the Spaniards had landed on the Isle of Wight, this news "had such fear and consternation in this town as I would little have looked for with such a cry of women — 196 ' TUDOR IDEALS chaining of streets and shutting of the gates as though the enemy had been at Blackwall. I am sorry and ashamed that this weakness and nakedness of ours on all sides should show itself so apparently as to be carried far and near to our disgrace both with friends and foes."^^ Nothing more differentiates our age from earlier ones than the disciplining of its patriotism. A new public opinion often intolerantly expressed has brought about a unifying of national judgment impossible before the ad- vent of popular education. The alternatives between in- difference to national disaster and unseemly fear, which are occasionally found in the pages of English history, cannot be laid down to any want of patriotism but to the absence of an established standard. It is among the merits of democracy to have impressed the mass with a far greater feeling than before of its responsibility. The first glimpse of this was seen in the national response at the moment of the Spanish danger. IV. RELIGION IN THE STATE In his "Apologie" Cardinal Allen wrote of England. "It is the turpitude of our nation through the whole World, whereat we blush before strangers that sometimes fall into discourse of such things, that in one man's memory and since this strange mutation began, we have had to our Prince a man who abolished the Pope's authority by his laws, and yet in other points kept the faith of his fathers; we have had a child who by the like laws abolished together with the Papacy the whole ancient religion; we have had a woman who restored both again and sharply punished Protestants; and lastly her Ma*'^ that now is who by the like laws hath long since abolished both again, and now severely punished Catholics as the other did Protes- tants; and all these strange differences within the compass of thirty years."^ Few things are more difficult to understand than the religious spirit in an age of such swift change as the Sixteenth Century. A matter so controversial, allowing room for opposite opinions, might be preferable to avoid. But religion occupied too great a part in the activity of the age for this to be possible. It was still an essential discipline of life and its civil aspects left over as the great legacy of the Middle Ages were universal. Whether in its Roman, its Lutheran, or its Calvinist dress, the secular side it assumed was largely a medieval inheritance. Apart from its doctrinal and disciplinary evolution the religious history of the age offers enormous interest in its relations with the beginnings of a new idea of faith as separate from the state. This modern doctrine dates from the Eighteenth Century, which expanded ideas whose cau- tious origins can be traced to the latter part of the Six- teenth Century. In France such convictions brought to 197 198 TUDOR IDEALS power Henry IV's party, and in England they strength- ened EHzabeth's rule. On the Continent the Reformation reacted to political circumstances which hardened its development. In Eng- land this was guided more by national than by theo- logical considerations, and the result was a compromise. England transformed the spirit of the Reformation as much as the Reformation transformed England. The si- lent absorbing power of the British nature, by slow con- tinuous pressure even when apparently acting through direct measures, was always more practical than theoret- ical, more instinctive than it was intellectual. A great movement like the Reformation around which English history for a century grouped itself, was partly popular and partly directed by the crown, with a shifting borderland between the two. It began amid disorder, half intentionally, half accidentally, to end upon a secure na- tional foundation. In turn persecuted, and persecuting, it passed through the most sensational vicissitudes alternat- ing between victory, defeat and compromise, to end in victory. Rarely do ideas spring fully armed into the world and the Reformation offers no exception. It came from no single fatherhood, for its seeds, in all that concerned the attacks on the corruption of the clergy, were of very an- cient date. Yet not till the Sixteenth Century when the many causes of unrest, spiritual, economic, and political, were able for the first time to unite, did it gather the strength of victory. On the Continent, Luther, Calvin, and Zwingli ended by each offering their own guidance in the place of Rome, but in England no great religious leader appeared. The king would never have tolerated one. The religious ferment was, however, intense and the feeling strong against the Roman church. But the English political genius ex- pressed by the crown was ready with an acceptable solu- tion flattering to the national pride. As a religious mas- RELIGION IN THE STATE 199 ter was necessary, the new master was to be the king who symbohzed the realm. In taking into his own hands the spiritual reins, he diverted to his purposes the popu- lar discontent against Rome. Apart from dynastic con- siderations or the greedy thirst for the Church's wealth, and merely from a political point of view the crown util- ized the popular feeling to throw over an adversary who could never consent to be a subordinate. The popularity of the Reformation came from its ap- peal to the growing nationalism and its resentment of all foreign interference. Added to this was the quickened conr- sciousness of men impatient of a distant authority which claimed to dominate their life and no longer subservient to a dogma in which they felt declining interest. The great popular awakening gathered strength while the Church remained stationary. On the one side was an expanding force still uncontrolled, still unaware of its own strength, yet groping in the dark toward moral betterment. On the other was a vast and venerable institution which kept its authority by tradition and maintained it later by the balance of political forces. Only a few years had passed since the death of the founder of the Tudor dynasty. He gave no reason to an- ticipate religious changes. His orthodoxy was entire. He had tried to obtain the canonization of Henry VI on the ground that miracles had been wrought at his tomb al- though three popes were unwilling to grant this, lest, as Bacon suggests, that monarch's simple-mindedness bring the honour into disrepute. Katherine of Aragon, herself most devout, was yet struck by the rigid religious discipline prevailing at court and wrote to her father of how she had been obliged to sell from her wardrobe in order to buy meat. Those who ate it on days of abstention were re- garded as heretics.^ An ascetic tradition surviving from the Middle Ages still exercised its hold on believers. A prelate so worldly as Wolsey unknown to all save his con- fessor^ wore a hair shirt next to his skin. More's piety 20O TUDOR IDEALS would be a hackneyed subject were it less noble. Oddly enough, the martyr of orthodoxy, in " Utopia," described his conception of religion in terms of pure deism. Utopians "believe that there is a certain Godly power unknown, everlasting, incomprehensible, inexplicable, far above the capacity and reach of man's work, dispersed throughout all the world, not in bigness but in virtue and power. "^ Like many of the nobler minds of the early Renais- sance, More looked for a broader interpretation of the Roman doctrine which he refused to abandon. Faith was close to the minds of most men. Theology was a living question and its political aspects made its discussion of immediate interest. Apart from such prac- tical sides, the sudden vicissitudes of life, the alterna- tion of its favours, and the closeness of death, made men more prone to look toward the spiritual sides of exist- ence. The impress on the mind left by centuries of medieval culture was still strong, and had not yet been weakened by any widespread accumulation of scepticism or indifference. Devotion and prayer formed an intimate part of life. All the Tudors were pious. Henry VIII wrote on theology, Edward VI felt the same interest, Elizabeth translated the " Mirror of Virtue." In such an atmosphere of orthodoxy Henry VIII was brought up. The religious turn of his mind became no- ticeable with all his acts, and he himself tried John Lam- bert, a member of the Christian Brotherhood, who was condemned to death by the king for his unorthodox views about the real presence. It is hard to judge the depth of inward feeling by outward fact or to appreciate the value attached to faith through the connection between church and state, but the result became plain enough in the king's effort to obtain civil supremacy over the church. His continual innovations and changes baffled even contem- porary observers, who were at a loss to understand how on the same day and the same hour three men could be executed for heresy and three for having spoken in favour RELIGION IN THE STATE 201 of the Pope.^ Viewed from the distance of centuries, his actions seem due to the forceful energy of a monarch who with exalted notions of his own power, was unable to shake off the medieval scholastic training he had received. His idea of the state was that of a prince of the Renaissance. His conception of the church was that of a pope of the Middle Ages, save that he had substituted himself for the pope. At the beginning of his reign, he impressed people by the zeal of his orthodoxy, at the end by the rapid shifts of his innovations. But his faith always remained an official doctrine. Whether orthodox, or in revolt, it never departed from the fixed observances. Church rule and civil rule were only different forms of the same organ- ism. No such mysticism ever swayed him as made his great contemporary Charles V abandon the crown for monastic seclusion. The acquiescence which Henry VIII met with, was due less to indifference than to religious interest. Paradoxi- cal as may appear, it was the keen interest in theolog- ical matters which allowed Henry VIII to effect his rev- olution. The relics of Lollardry and Wyclifism, never quite dead, caused men to be dissatisfied with the condi- tions in the Church without, however, attaching discon- tent to any tangible method of reform. Even the orthodox felt that something was wrong. Erasmus lamented the dullards who expounded theology. Colet refused to kiss the relics of St. Thomas. A feeling of unrest was in the air. Such indignation became the groundwork for the seeth- ing shapeless movement which then stirred the English nation. When this attacked abuses, or made its appeal to reason, higher circles discerned advantage to their greed. The diffusion of education and of printed books allowed the masses for the first time to read, and aroused from below a deep and continuous stream of religious feeling which often puzzled those on high, uncertain whether the wiser policy was to ignore, direct, or to sup- 202 TUDOR IDEALS press this. Forces long pent up, suddenly came to the surface. While Englishmen evolved no original doctrine they responded to the succession of new religious ideas which then came out of Germany and of Switzerland. The vices of the church in the early part of the Sixteenth Century, have been immensely exaggerated. But what is not an exaggeration is that it presented an immobile element unwilling to take into consideration the strength of the new forces growing up around it. Between the vague discontent of the orthodox, and the violent criticism of those in revolt, there was room for every shade of opin- ion. For a time it seemed as if anything might happen under the plea of making Christianity return to its primi- tive creed. ^ Henry VIII provided the leadership around which such dissatisfaction could cluster. A mind less scholastically orthodox than his, might have alarmed the people by the daring of his innovations and alienated them from the throne. A spirit less resolute would have been reconciled to Rome, and allowed the rift of reform to sever the na- tion. It was Henry VIITs greatness to thoroughly under- stand his people, less by conscious effort than by his po- litical instinct of representation, and to make his own religious evolution precede by little that of the English race. When he nationalized the faith, he was carrying out the inarticulate wish of the great majority of his people desirous to preserve the essentials of their creed, and in a moment of growing national consciousness, no less anxious for riddance of the hated vestiges of foreign intervention. The king helped to form and to express the national will to a degree which few elected leaders have ever succeeded in doing. The quarrel with Rome was therefore based less on doctrine than on nationality. The people realized that something was amiss and vaguely associated this with the foreigner. The king was popular because instinctively the people felt that he expressed their own desires, and RELIGION IN THE STATE 203 their welfare was bound up with his greatness. They re- mained content to have him mould their spiritual fortunes, and to think and believe with him. The seeming indiffer- ence to faith during the first half of the century, and the meekness with which the royal example was followed, arose largely from the widespread belief in the spiritual su- premacy of the sovereign. The stability of achievement rested on general consent, expressed far more by a keen popular interest which found its leader in the prince, than by the indifference of a facile acquiescence. Where a religion is universal there is little occasion for intolerance. Before Luther Rome could be liberal. It is only when revolt begins that this engenders the spirit of persecution. Feeling, however, has its own interior laws, and martyrdom requires preparation and an exaltation which is rarely the product of a brief time. To every idea can be traced a growth and a rhythm. Martyrs are there- fore hardly ever found in the beginning of a movement. Nearly always it requires a second generation to raise these to the necessary pitch of enthusiasm. As with the Lol- lards, early believers had begun by abjuring their heresies for which, later, the humblest were glad to die; men recanted under Henry, who afterward perished cheerfully at the stake. Example was necessary to rouse the degree of their fervour. To those who preserved the ancient faith amid risk and danger all honour is due. It acted as a solace to many. Much of the best writing of the Sixteenth Century was devotional and now seems without interest, but it is impos- sible to read Fisher's simple and pure English without being moved by the depth of his feeling. His ** Spiritual Consolation" written for his sister Elizabeth at the time when he lay a prisoner in the Tower under sentence of death, contains rare literary beauty as well as religious sen- timent. On the Roman side, a few like More and Fisher, and the Monks of Charterhouse, possessed the strength of soul to suffer for their conscience. Yet the majority of 204 TUDOR IDEALS those who later went courageously to their death had to be buoyed up by the spectacle of the first martyrs before they could feel sufficiently fortified. Such was the case of Father Forest who, after he had begun teaching his penitents to perjure themselves, afterward sought death in expiation. In a period of such swift change men could not be sure of their conviction and passed through an evolution ot conscience before they became ready to die. The sudden- ness of transformations began by reacting on character through facilitating a certain elasticity which later again hardened. Princess Mary had signed a letter against all her convictions, recognizing Henry VIII as supreme head of the Church, disavowing papal authority and declaring her mother's marriage incestuous and herself illegitimate. Elizabeth as princess simulated devotion to the Catholic creed so long as her sister reigned. Master Bilney, whom Latimer greatly admired, when first charged with heresy had been induced by his friends to recant. At Cambridge "he was in such an anguish and agony so that nothing did him good." Later feeling the old fervour once more, he went cheerfully to the stake.^ The courage of a young woman like Anne Askew in suffering torture and martyrdom for her faith lent strength to the Protestant cause.^ Latimer himself had frequent recourse to subterfuge in overmatching the bishops who were seeking to trap him into heresy. On one occasion he changed the sermon when noticing a bishop entering his church, while on another he overheard a scribe taking down his answers from behind the arras.^ His own piety ended by winning victory over the temptation to recede. "The highest promotion that God can bring his unto in this life is to suffer for his truth, . . . and one suffering for the truth turneth more than a thousand sermons." ^° With less fire than Savonarola, his spirit proved as heroic in the more homely garment which then enveloped Eng- lish faith. RELIGION IN THE STATE 205 When even the staunchest had wavered it is not sur- prising, that with Mary's accession, the great mass of the nation acquiesced in a return to the ancient creed. Not all had the courage or conviction to face the terrible ordeal. Sir John Cheke despite his ardent Protestantism recanted in the presence of the stake, and expressed his willingness to obey Queen Mary's laws and other orders of religion. Typical of the multitude, is the anonymous writer who describes the queen's triumphal entry with King Philip into London, and Cardinal Pole's speech on the restoration of Catholicism. He relates how with many others he regretted his own past conduct and repents for his religious sins, determining to make amends in hence- forth practicing the "most holy Catholic faith." The reformation pendulum had swung too far under Edward VI not to make welcome a return to the old reli- gion. Men were ready to restore the Roman creed, but in- disposed to give back the ancient Church lands. The ideas of the English Reformation, just as later the ideas of the French Revolution, triumphed largely because self-inter- est committed to their support the most active element in the population. Although the English mind rarely found interest in theological subtleties, the middle of the century with the violent alternations between Edward and Mary, brought to a head the religious question on both sides. The prep- aration in fortitude had been achieved and henceforth intensity of conviction was displayed more frequently than under Henry VIII. The Catholics, especially after their brief return to power, were to concentrate in a manner which did honour to their conscience but deprived them of hopes of advancement. Amid much general flexibility one admires the attitude of the Marian bishops who, on Elizabeth's accession refused to take the oath of supremacy after her Protestant leanings became apparent, although it meant their destitution and subsequent imprisonment. The Catholic nobles showed more concern for their posi- 2o6 TUDOR IDEALS tion. At a meeting of the Knights of the Garter in April, 1 56 1, Lord Sussex suggested that as a body, they should recommend the queen to marry Lord Robert Dud- ley the future Leicester. Catholics like Montagu and Arundel, and even a waverer like Norfolk, opposed the sug- gestion although it was known that Dudley had promised to restore the ancient faith. They preferred that Cathol- icism suffer rather than that an inferior among themselves be advanced. Elizabeth herself was of necessity a Protestant for to have been otherwise was to proclaim her illegitimacy and question her own authority. Though Pope Pius IV of- fered to confirm her title he could not affect the circum- stances of her birth. Her religion was therefore prejudged and if she flirted with Rome until secure in her position, she did so in a manner which reflected greater credit on her diplomatic skill than on her honesty. Although too much of her age not to be fond of theology, Elizabeth stood for the new spirit born of the Renaissance which subordinated religion to the state. Her own mind was naturally but little intolerant. Her view of religion was not far from the one expressed by a contemporary, who wrote that the prince ought more than others "to seem a worshipper of God" as his subjects would therefore dread less to suffer injustice at his hands; quoting the opinion of the ancients on religion as being a necessary element of the commonwealth and of use to mankind. ^^ Toward the end of her reign Queen Elizabeth told the French Ambassador, de Maisse, that if princes in Christ- endom had the necessary good will and resolution, it would be an easy matter to settle all differences in religion for there was only one Christ and one faith, and all the rest were trifles. -^^ The successive steps by which from the date of her accession she gradually substituted the re- formed creed for the Roman were carried out with extreme caution and as imperceptibly as possible. No alteration RELIGION IN THE STATE 207 was at first permitted in the public services of religion, and it was only by her selection of advisers and the exclusion of devout Catholics, that the tendency toward reform grad- ually became apparent. ^^ She attempted to treat religion as part of the state but without fanaticism, for the English people, religious by instinct and tradition, were not big- oted and refrained from the excesses often committed on the Continent. "There are three notable differences of religion in the land, the two extremes whereof are the Papist and the Pu- ritan, and the religious Protestant obtaining the mean." ^^ Camden explained Elizabeth's zeal for one religion on the ground that if diversity were tolerated it might be an incentive to continual strife among a people so war- like as the English. ^^ Such was the political aspect of a complex and delicate situation. It was the merit of Elizabeth to have taken a middle course without any of her father's exaggerations. The greatness of an individ- ual in thought or action, nearly always emanates from the relation he bears to the spirit of the age. At a time of confused and opposite tendencies, her greatness was to steer the nation so as to formulate the religious desires which expressed the wishes of most of her people and re- sponded best to their spiritual instincts. A definite religious ideal was kept in view as the chief goal of the state, on the ground that princes exposed them- selves to blame who had only in mind the consideration of temporal benefits and "pretend to no higher end than wealth, peace and justice among their subjects. "^^ _ Richard Hooker was to be the apologist of the estab- lished order. In his survey of the civil aspects of religion he adopted the view of a man of the world, rescuing the occasional lack of elevation of his ideas by the rare beauty of his style. To him, as to Elizabeth, it seemed out of question for Church and Government to exist in a Chris- tian state separate and distinct. "There is not any man of the Church of England but the same man is also a mem- 2o8 TUDOR IDEALS ber of the commonwealth; nor any man a member of the commonwealth which is not also of the Church of Eng- land." ^^ Religion and justice were inseparable, neither able to exist without the other. Upholding the spiritual aspects of the state, he brought out the authority of the prince whose power was supreme to command even in matters of Christian religion. By such reasoning, men conscientiously changed their creed in response to their sovereign's desires. The Sixteenth Century presents the strange anomaly, on the one hand of the greatest suppleness in faith, coupled on the other with the spirit of martyrdom existing on both sides Roman and Puritan. Hooker frankly steered a middle course. He appreci- ated the twofold opposition against the supreme power of the prince in matters of faith. The catholic because their creed rested on the Pope, the Calvinist and Zwing- lian, because it belonged in every national church to the clergy there assembled. In his opinion princes receive it by divine right, though he admits that God nowhere says that kings should or should not have it. Quoting the Scripture that "no man can serve two masters" his con- clusion is that as the Kings of England can have no peers within their own realm, no civilian nor ecclesiastic under them can have coercive power when such power would make that person so far superior to his own superior. Hooker expounded the Tudor doctrine of lay suprem- acy over the church, vested in the person of the ruler. This fitted in with the English spirit of the time unable to brook the foreign interference of the Roman faith, yet seeking a central authority, and therefore arming the crown with spiritual as well as with temporal weapons. Lastly, this view contained a moderation from Papist and Puritan extreme, a respect for law on the part of the sover- eign, a commonsense view of religion in its practical as- pect toward life, which took cognizance of facts rather than of dogma, and as such was peculiarly English. At a time when fierce polemics were raging over church cere- RELIGION IN THE STATE 209 monials, he wrote "whether it be not a kind of taking God's name in vain to debase religion with such frivolous disputes, a sin to bestow time and labour about them."^^ Hooker never realized that any other than the established order of society was possible. In his belief, there was al- most divine sanction for the nobility and he says with unconscious servility, "We are not to dream in this case of any platform which bringeth equally high and low unto parish churches, ... so repugnant to the majesty and greatness of English nobility. "^^ The authority of the church implied the authority of the crown, the nobility, the universities and all established orders. Such was the theory of the English church which was to represent the spiritual needs of the nation. Jewell stated it with even greater vigor. "For this is our doc- trine, that every soul of what calling soever he be — be he monk, be he preacher, be he prophet, be he apostle — ought to be subject to Kings and magistrates. "^° This doctrine although creating a national church left a clergy which in its earlier history had not yet acquired the sense of its own dignity. The servility of some of its higher prelates is not among the bright pages of the time. Ayl- mer the Bishop of London could write to Sir Christopher Hatton — "I preach without spirit. I trust not of God but of my sovereign which is God's lieutenant and so another God unto me." ^^ In every age public men have less initiated the prevail- ing forces than they have placed themselves astride of these. Strong movements irrespective of their nature or direction, require roots, and these are rarely found on the surface of the soil where leadership becomes conspicuous. The Sixteenth Century presents the paradox "of vital forces which affected the lives of men and drove them toward sacrifice and martyrdom yet often swayed in turn by sheer opportunists themselves indifferent in matters of faith who utilized religion as a political force. At court there was no quarrel about religious ques- 2IO TUDOR IDEALS tions because no one reasoned about them. Lyly could deplore such lack of interest/^ but it was symptomatic. Especially those returned from Italy were accused of regarding faith solely from the point of view of a politi- cal expedient. It is impossible to divine from Shakespeare that the Reformation had taken place, and if one judged only from his plays the Roman faith might still have been supreme. Yet among the people a healthy and somewhat crude religious feeling kept strong. There was a prevalent belief that the defeat of the Armada was caused by divine intercession. Protestantism gave even a religious sanction to the freebooters who carried out their piratical enter- prises on the Spanish Main.^^ V. TOLERANCE AND PERSECUTION Wolsey's dying advice to the king had been to keep a watchful eye on the Lutherans/ yet in the twenty years of his administration there was far less persecution for heresy than during the three of More's Chancellorship.^ Few things are more remarkable, than how the kindest of men who preached tolerance, appreciated the merits of Lutheranism and denounced the evils of persecution where out of "the ashes of one heretic sprlngeth up many"^ should himself have become a violent persecutor. The paradox is best explained by the dualism between a system of laws inherited from the Middle Ages and a new spirit of tolerance born in the Renaissance. As a jurist. More felt obliged to apply the old statutes enacted against heresy under Richard II and Henry IV, while as a human- ist he expressed the feeling for tolerance so soon to be checked by fierce religious hatreds. The early days of the Sixteenth Century displayed a more liberal spirit than later became possible when poli- tics under religious guise aroused human passion into vio- lence. James Bainham, a barrister of the Middle Temple, asserted in 1531, that "if a Turk, a Jew, or a Saracen, do trust in God and keep his law he is a good Christian man," an opinion for which he was afterward burned. Starkey, with his Italian culture, takes the same broad view. Jews, Saracens, Turks and Moors so long as they observe their own laws which are the best they know, "seeing the infinite goodness of God hath no less made them after his own image and form, than he hath made the Christian Man," nor are they to be damned so long as they live in accord- ance with the law of nature.^ Even in Luther he had found good, saying that "He and his disciples be not so wicked and foolish that in all things they err." ^ 212 TUDOR IDEALS Not everyone believed in intolerance; John Olde asked the question when Christ had ever compelled anyone to come to his religion "with imprisonment or with fire" and not only condemned persecution but went so far as to say that "no man should die for his faith." ^ The downfall of Protector Somerset who had refused to persecute and repealed the old statutes against heresy, brought an end to all hope of milder rule. Passions were violently aroused and even those whose inclinations were mild found they had to range themselves on the side of persecution. The currents of progress are never able long to pursue their course unchecked, and the more they run ahead of an age the more certain they are to be coun- tered, Somerset's tolerance had been individual and was little in touch with the ideas of the great mass of the popu- lation always inclined to welcome the use of force as the sign of strong rule. The efforts of the crown were directed toward drawing to itself what remained of the ancient allegiance formerly given to Rome and enforcing this obedience with the cus- tomary means practiced by authority whenever it has found itself resisted. To blame this as cruel is to misread the spirit of that age. The suffering imposed may have touched human chords in a few, but the method adopted was in keeping with the current usage of authority. The right of the crown to enter into the religious belief of its subjects was hardly questioned and even the Catholics who were its victims, seem, as a rule, to have been more intent in changing the monarch on the throne as in the case of Elizabeth, than in seeking to modify the point of view which sanctioned their persecution. Only occasionally those who suffered felt inclined to liberal views, and Sir Thomas Copley writing Burleigh to complain about the seizure of his possessions, cited the example of Germany where princes were well served by "their subjects of whatsoever religion." ^ As a victim he could place religion on a broad foundation of tolerance. TOLERANCE AND PERSECUTION 213 Among rulers the problem of tolerance was oftener one t)f opportunism than of conviction. Bacon when making suggestions to restore order in Ireland advocated a policy to recover the hearts of the people and recommended a wide religious liberty in order to deprive the rebel leaders of the plea that they were defending the Catholic faith. Toleration of religion seemed to him a policy of absolute necessity/ although the principal cities were to be exempted from this measure. Bacon's view was that of a rationalist who saw in reli- gion a matter of policy. The great problem of government was then to impose discipline in questions of faith lest the denial of spiritual authority lead to political rebellion. Even a bigot like Philip II who would not allow Chaloner, the British Envoy at Madrid, to read the Bible, and forced him to abstain during Lent, was ready enough to admit compromise and tolerance in England where he preferred the country Protestant and neutral to Catholic ■ and French. On the Continent, ideas of toleration had at first been current. Cardinal Granville writing from the Low Coun- tries quoted leaders in the Netherlands like Flores de Montmorency, and the Marquis de Bergues, who openly said it was not permissible to shed blood for religious motives and wished to know what scriptural sanction existed for the execution of heretics. He himself replied to a lady who asked his advice regarding the treatment of heretics on her estate, that for those converted there should be no punishment, while it was not advisable to proceed against the hardened for they might later see the light.9 In France the seeds of the future Politiques were scattered broadcast. George Buchanan lived in the intimacy of Marshal de Brissac who was known as the foe of heretics, without this appearing anomalous. Writers like Cognet urged the need for tolerance, and cited that of the Turk for the Christian conscience, and of Italian 214 TUDOR IDEALS princes for Jews.^° La Noue's " Political Discourses" then translated into English contain one long argument against persecution. Even Rome responded to such ideas. The Cardinal of Ferrara who came to England as an unofficial envoy of the Vatican and whom Elizabeth received as a Prince of the House of Este, expressed himself freely on the folly of not associating with fellow Christians because of religious differences." This may not have reflected his true opinion but it did his line of policy. Tolerance might be wise politically and states like Germany, Poland, Bohemia and Hungary where it was practiced were held up as examples. ^^ Unfortunately such belief was not deeply enough grounded to withstand the onslaught of contrary ideas. The decay of any system is usually hastened by a large indulgence, which renders it sympathetic and opens the gate to new ideas breaking their way through the crust of the old. This was true of conditions so utterly diverse as prevailed in the Medieval Church of the Fifteenth Century, or the French Monarchy on the eve of the Revolution. In each instance the plan of reforms prepared from within, or by those bred in the old system to which they remain at- tached, after receiving an apparent welcome are suddenly countered by other forces reactionary or radical, which mould the movement in accordance with their strength. Moderation failed in England in the Sixteenth Century as it has always failed when a tempest has not yet spent its force. The reason why a statesman so moderate as Elizabeth attached herself to the more radical Protestant party was only because she felt that the real strength of her people lay there. The Roman conception of a universal church left its inheritance to Protestants in the aim for a uniform creed. Though many bore "honest papists" no ill will the opinion was prevalent that both Catholics and Puritans were "traitors." The spirit was the same whatever the ritual, for on both sides men acted in the same way as soon as TOLERANCE AND PERSECUTION 215 open warfare broke out. Whether in the Low Countries where Alva's policy to stamp out heresy ruined the land or in Prance where the tongues of Protestants were cut off be- fore execution to avoid "blaspheming," a wave of barbar- ism was unchained in Europe under the name of religion. The worst feature was its general popularity. Even in England whatever later apologists have said, Parliament neither expressed disapproval of Mary's persecution of Protestants nor of Elizabeth's persecution of Catholics. Only here and there a few wise minds like Castelnau could remark that the effect of persecution was to increase the zeal of the persecuted. From which side did the spirit of persecution first come.^ The query is idle for the Middle Ages had persecuted heresy and handed down its methods as a principle of government. Because the Renaissance gave birth to an ideal of tolerance, because a few elect responded to this, the vast majority of the nation remained indifferent or opposed. The spirit of persecution became a recognized dogma of government. After the Pope's ill judged excommunication of Eliza- beth, the Queen with greater political tact issued a proc- lamation announcing that she did not intend to enter into men's consciences so long as they observed her laws in open deeds. All Elizabeth demanded was outward religious con- formity, for it was her boast that she opened no windows on men's souls. She insisted on no change of faith. Her policy was thus halfway between tolerance and intolerance and formed a link between the two. She was as tolerant of belief as she was intolerant of conduct and by so doing came nearest to carrying out the wishes of the majority of the English people. Her own persecutions did not begin until 1577, when Cuthbert Mayne the first Catholic missionary was exe- cuted. On the Continent Catholics forgetting all about their own intolerance professed indignation at this and said 2i6 TUDOR IDEALS that persecution in England was denounced by heretics, Turks and Infidels. ^^ A picture of the cruelties suffered by English .Catholics was hung at Notre 'Dame in Paris where it was only removed by the king's order at the in- stance of the British ambassador. Intolerance was a satisfaction accorded to public opin- ion. The pressure exerted on the queen for the religious persecution of the Catholics, arose mainly from Puritan groups, for unleavened democracy is often more intol- erant than autocracy. The response of the crown to popular opinion in the latter part of the Sixteenth Cen- tury came in satisfying such demands as had been imposed by the spirit of persecution. The Virgin Queen herself found popularity in the harsh measures her government , took against those who did not conform. Cardinal Allen could write of the missionaries yearly going out from the seminaries at Rheims and Rome, to Turkey and the Indies with no more danger than to England. "They are sent to the Heathen to tell them there is no salvation without Christ: they are sent to the English to tell them there is no salvation without the Catholic Church. Whether they die for the one or for the other, all is one-matter to them." ^^ Yet many asked to be sent to England with only the prospect of death before them. The history of Cath- olic martyrs has no place here, but their courage and de- votion deserves the highest praise. It was honoured even by its enemies. Edmund Spenser pays a sympathetic tribute to the courage of Catholic priests in Ireland who came from Rome and from Spain, " by long toil and dan- gerous transit hither, when they know peril of death awaiteth them and no reward or riches is to be found," contrasting their zeal with the idleness of the Anglican clergy. ^^ Mary Stuart could write to Mendoza in Nov., 1584, that he should go ahead in his plot without any re- gard to her own personal danger, for she would gladly give up her life if she could thereby obtain 'the triumph of the Catholic cause, and was ready to see her own son TOLERANCE AND PERSECUTION 217 dispossessed from his right to the throne because of his heresy, preferring the "welfare of the church to the ag- grandizement of my posterity. " ^® Statecraft imposed wilful cruelty. Lord. Burleigh ad- vised the queen to keep down the Catholics not on religious grounds but as a matter of policy. If these were granted greater liberties they would not be satisfied and would think such tolerance proceeded from fear. To content them would be to discontent faithful subjects. ^^ This was the true reason. Burleigh had no wish to persecute Catholics, but the spirit of persecution rested on popular approval. The masses wanted it and the kindly treatment of Catholics would have dissatisfied them. They demanded that Elizabeth persecute the Catholics. A sovereign so mindful of popularity as Elizabeth would otherwise never have resorted to this. Burleigh warned against going too far which led to massacre and therefore to acts of despair, advising the queen to make use of Catholic aid in the same way as Frederick II did with Saracens. By modifying the rigour of the oath to demanding readiness to bear arms against all foreign princes invading England, he believed that the adherence of non-Catholics could be obtained, and if any priests refused to take this and were punished it could not be said that they suffered for religion. A few Catholics wrote to urge such tolerance, offering the example of France under Henry IV, of Poland where no one's con- science was forced, and of Germany where those of dif- ferent creed lived side by side; men's bodies could be driven but not their minds." The astonishing fact remains that while the French King was massacring Huguenots and Elizabeth perse- cuting Catholics both continued to be friends. The queen foreseeing that her persecution of Catholics might be in- voked against her urged her ambassador in Paris to reply that the rebellion in the North which had just been put down, was only outwardly coloured with religion, but that 2i8 TUDOR IDEALS the Pope had made treason and obedience to his bulls syn- onymous. In spite of the heat of religious controversies the marriage between Elizabeth and the Duke of Anjou was regarded as desirable. Staunch Protestants looked upon it as "honourable, convenient, profitable and need- ful." As the French prince was only a moderate Papist and asked for the freedom of his own conscience and of his *' suites" it was felt that such a marriage would be con- ducive to tolerance in religion. A letter of Burleigh to Walsingham suggested, however, that in case the marriage did not take place, religion be given as the reason. It was often the pretence paraded to the world. The long negotiations were, perhaps, never meant to be taken too seriously. They reveal a perfunctory atti- tude toward religion as being far more a matter of the state than of faith, although the queen declared it absurd for herself and her husband to celebrate contrary beliefs when this was not tolerated among her subjects. On the duke's side it was remarked by his representative that he had religious convictions which were a good thing par- ticularly in the case of princes "who have no other bridle to stay them from evil." ^^ The massacre of St Barthol- omew brought about a keener desire for intolerance in England. Men like Sandys the Bishop of London wrote to Burleigh advocating the immediate execution of Mary of Scotland and the removal of Catholics from the vicin- ity of the queen. Elizabeth's personal feelings in the direction of toler- ance made contemporaries accuse her of religious indiffer- ence. If she refrained from carrying out her preferences, such hesitation was due to a characteristic caution which listened to her subjects' wishes. The queen's ideas influ- enced by those of her environment fluctuated with condi- tions. Methods of expression though more restricted than public opinion is to-day were articulate enough. Eliza- beth's sagacity came in understanding when such clamour had to be listened to and when it was to be curbed. With TOLERANCE AND PERSECUTION 219 few personal convictions save about her own prerogatives, she always modified her preferences in accordance with the pressure of the moment and showed herself tolerant or intolerant as conditions demanded. Granting the facts imposed by the peculiar circumstances of her birth, her policy was one of religious opportunism with a personal preference for tolerance in advance of her age. Her readi- ness to concede freedom of conscience if not freedom of worship marked a considerable advance, and paved the way for future toleration. It was as far as the conserva- tive liberalism of Queen Elizabeth's advisers thought wise to go. In an age of conspiracy it was difficult to be rid of the idea that men of a minority faith were inimical to the welfare of the state. Although there might be no direct challenge of supremacy yet indirectly even religion "divi- deth in a sort and draweth from the state. "^^ Moderation was generally the rule among the upper classes, and Essex said openly that in his opinion no one should suffer death because of religion. But there exists a kind of Gresham's law in popular hatred, and the spread of the Catholic reaction on the Continent provoked inevitable reprisals in England. It is only necessary to read such nar- ratives as that of Edward Underbill "the hot gospeller" always eager to persecute when not himself persecuted,^" for he never questioned Queen Mary's right to keep down the new faith. Stubbes also complained that Catholics in England were treated with overmuch leniency and even in prison lived there like young princes. ^^ A Puritan griev- ance against the bishops was due to the fact of these pray- ing that all men without exception be saved and that all travellers by sea be preserved, Turks not excepted.^^ After the Moorish ambassadors received audience of the queen, they could not proceed to the Levant as they wished "for our merchants nor mariners will not carry them in Turkey because they think it a matter odious and scandalous to the work to be too friendly or familiar with infidels." 23 VI. PURITANISM The few pages given here to Puritanism are merely in- tended to bridge over what would otherwise be a gap and call attention to an omission rather than seek to fill it. Puritanism as a conscious political force did not show its head until later in the century, but Puritanism as an inward religious feeling early realized its expression. Be- fore the scission from Rome, the hope had been widely en- tertained of effecting reform from within. At the Court of Francis I, as in that of Navarre, and at the Court of Henry VIII, a religious fervour had been prompted by the new learning. Wyatt's Puritan tastes were revealed in his par- aphrases of the Psalms breathing a spirit of repentance for sin, and hope in the mercy of God whose kingdom lies within the human heart. The Lutheran doctrine of the importance of inner faith instead of outward good works echoes in his lines "Then seek no more out of thyself to find The thing that thou hast sought so long before; For thou shall feel it sticking in thy mind." Surrey's paraphrases of Ecclesiastes and the Psalms, ex- press the same idea and makes one doubt the jesting inter- pretation given to his adventure in shooting bolts through London tradesmen's windows. If Puritanism had remained confined to the Court it would never have become the active force into which it developed. Oddly enough its early history presents an analogy to that of Renaissance culture. This, too, after meeting with its first welcome at Court was unable to develop there. The king's vicinity which provided an admirable threshold for new ideas, was both too occupied PURITANISM 221 and too limited in its interests to extend to these more than their original welcome. The charm of novelty acting on keen intelligence favoured such reception, but only gave ideas their first start. Beyond, they had to find their own way through the nation, and their diffusion occurred in proportion as they fitted themselves to its interest. Puritanism by its early welcome, acquired a literary flavour which remained associated with it and preserved a certain grace to what otherwise often descended into ugly intolerance. Its organization arose through quite dif- ferent circumstances. During the Marian persecutions when English reformers had to flee abroad they found in Switzerland and along the Rhine, Church governments which were those of small independent republics. The fact that the city government in towns like Geneva and Zurich had become theocracies offered examples not lost on English Puritans when they returned to their own country. The Reformation by itself was insufficient to destroy the medieval tradition of a clergy who were spiritual nobles more concerned with administration than with their pastoral duties. Latimer had attacked them for neglecting these. "How many unlearned prelates have we now at this day . . . they hawk, they hunt, they card, they dice, they pastime in their prelacies."^ A levelling tendency aimed at real or supposed abuses, was then beginning to set in against the survival of cer- tain ceremonies inherited from the Roman ritual. The hierachy of the bishops was denounced for absenteeism and found themselves as much reviled for being a "hel- lish rabble" as had ever been the Roman bishops.^ The Reformation began by destroying the ecclesias- tical fabric of authority. In the early years of Eliz- abeth's reign the bishops felt uncertain about their posi- tion not knowing whether they were merely stop gaps to be swept away or kept as part of the new institutions. Elizabeth found utility in retaining them. The middle 222 TUDOR IDEALS course she steered appealed to the majority of her people and saved them from excesses on either side. Catholicism represented tradition, but had the queen yielded to the blandishments of Rome the breach from her subjects would have been too great. Involuntarily the moderate reformers would have turned to Puritanism with the likeli- hood of a violent clash between the two extremes. The sagacity of the queen's course lay in the gradual break with the Vatican, which gave the time to affirm her own authority and prevent civil war. The requirements of conservative stability made her prefer a doctrine distant alike from Papist and from Puritan. Elizabeth was then endeavouring to rebuild the struc- ture of the ancient church without its Roman head. The Episcopal Apostolic succession was utilized to strengthen the principle of authority on which the new national church reposed, and a divine right was invoked for this^hier- archy by Richard Bancroft. The queen's support of the Anglican Church was in line with her traditional conser- vatism, whereas the Puritan effort had been directed " to deprive the queen of her authority and give it to the peo- ple." Much as Puritanism stood for tyranny in its atti- tude toward the private life of the individual, it stood also for political liberty. The early characteristics of the Pu- ritans were, however, far different from what they later became. When they first appeared, Leicester and Essex, both of whom were sufficiently self-indulgent, protected them at Court, though if Camden is to be believed, many noblemen favoured the movement because they hoped by its means to obtain more of the wealth of the Church.^ Job Throckmorton, the supposed Martin Marprelate, was no austere figure but one who took pleasure in life. Arthur Golding, the translator of Ovid, was strongly im- bued with the Puritan spirit and tried to conciliate his paganism by proving Ovid to have been a disciple of Pythagoras. Persecution and the execution of Brownists and Ana- PURITANISM 223 baptists, brought out the austere side of Puritanism. The more human aspects of the early adherents were dis- carded for a rigid discipline until their name became a byword for the peculiar grimness attached to it. They were regarded by their enemies as "dissembling hypo- crites." Their nasal twang was disliked. Sir Andrew Aguecheek loathed them. It was said of the Puritan that though he loved God with all his soul he hated his neigh- bour with all his heart.^ Their enemies declared that the Puritan preachers won the peoples' affection by drawing attention to the faults of those who filled the "higher callings" and obtaining a reputation for virtue by their readiness to reprove the sins of others.^ It was said that the triumph of Puritanism would mean the overthrow of learning, for the Puritan regarded degrees as only vain- glory and enforced a permanent equality among ministers. They brought a new spirit into English life, which un- pleasant in its manifestations was to become a forerunner of British democracy.^ The Puritan hostility to the bishops and wish for each church to choose its own pastor seemed anarchy to many. To King James' maxim "no Bishops, no King" Harring- ton added "no King, no nobility, no gentry." ^ Elizabeth persecuted them not for religion, but as a danger to the state. The Puritans clamoured for a liberty which they were unwilling to grant others. Their sombre spirituality appeared the same threat to the comfortable visions of the bishops as the spectre of socialism is to so many modern minds. Apart from its religious aspect, Puritanism represented the great levelling tendency which in more recent times has been known as democracy. Its struggle against the bishops was because these "made Mitred Lords." ^ Puri- tanism was the expression of the people seeking to find a spiritual government in closer touch with themselves. Hence it was opposed by all those who feared such tenden- cies. Bacon, for instance, found danger to the state in 224 TUDOR IDEALS their arguments. The working force of Puritan democracy was still intolerant, roughshod, high-handed, and often unfair. Yet the beginnings of the fight for constitutional liberty under the Stuarts can be traced to the obscure attacks on the institutions of the English Church under Elizabeth. The hostility of Puritanism toward the stage has left a dark recollection among lovers of letters. The exuberance of the Renaissance spirit translated into the drama could only arouse feelings of hostility among those who felt an ascetic ideal. Nor was this peculiar to England. The popularity of the stage made many who were far from styling themselves Puritans, resent the idleness it pro- voked, as well as the immorality of its subject-matter.^ In England many divines preached against the stage, ^" while the attacks of the pamphleteers savagely attacked its immorality. Some tried to separate the good plays from the bad. To conform himself to Puritan leanings, Peele attempted to dramatize a biblical subject rendering into blank verse chapters from the Bible. Others like Fenton sharply distinguished between the ordinary drama and the plays of scholars written to reprove Vice and extol Virtue.-'^ Out of this clash between the opposing forces of Puri- tanism and love of life, the spirit of England was to develop. VII. FREE THOUGHT Scepticism was more prevalent in the Middle Ages than is supposed. Dante found atheists in hell, and the sporadic growth of anonymous heresies whose recollection is pre- served in the accusations of the Church, show that disbe- lief was far from infrequent. This was more true of the Continent and especially of Italy, than of England. The intellectual ferment was there less active, though during the Fifteenth Century curious manifestations of doubt appear in other matters than faith. In his preface to Malory, Caxton remarks that many believed King Arthur a myth and the books about him mere fables. Non-believers were far too prudent to leave public defence of their doubt, but the wide diffusion of ancient culture undoubtedly increased their numbers. William of Orange was commonly reputed an atheist, and Marshal Strozzi died as he had lived, refusing the proffered sacra- ments and with his last words declaring he would go the way of every one else for six thousand years. In England oddly enough a devout Catholic like More,^ was the first to mention the sceptics. In his "Utopia" the only exception he made to liberty of faith, was against the atheistic materialism whose sympathizers were to be debarred from office, on the ground that as they believe in nothing they would be prone to break laws they did not fear. More, even found means to reconcile to reason the difficulty about miracles, on the ground that though a miracle is impossible in nature it is possible to God.^ The hostility to Rome caused the doctrine of the Eucharist to be held up to ridicule in a spirit of coarse jest.^ The attempt to destroy the mystery was, however, anti-Catho- lic and had nothing in common with free thought. The atheist in the Sixteenth Century lives chiefly by 225 226 TUDOR IDEALS those who attacked him. Latimer, for instance, de- nounced the Epicureans who believe that "after this hfe there is neither hell nor heaven."^ Such opinions were al- leged to have been introduced by the Italianated English- man who found in religion only an instrument of govern- ment and regarded Christianity as a fable. "They make Christ and his Gospel only serve Civil policy . . . they mock the Pope; they rail on Luther." ^ Atheism became a word no longer unknown to plain Englishmen. Free thought was regarded as a plant of foreign growth. In an age when religious passion ran high, many openly declared that, whoever laid stress on religion was a fool and still greater if he gave up to it any of his wealth; but if he sacrificed his life he was stark mad.® The current of rationalism had been reinforced by classical example. Its precepts counselled caution for it was dangerous to advocate these openly. Their existence points to the difficulty of generalizing about an age or reading into it only one tendency without taking account of other factors. Some who entertained unorthodox views were deemed atheists, perhaps because they wished to lessen the im- portance of religion in the StatCj^^ though G. Cranmer writing to Hooker in 1598 denounced such "godless pohtics." ^ Queen Elizabeth herself was described as "an atheist"^ because of her reluctance to go to extremes. Her views can best be judged from the spirit of the negotiations with respect to the French marriage. While the queen cared nothing for the duke's conversion to the Church of Eng- land, she was at first insistent on his not having the mass said in his household and accompanying her to church. She would not press him, however, to any sudden change of religion as this might cause him to be reputed an atheist. ^° A possible claimant to the throne like Lord Derby, was accused of keeping his creed in darkness. "Some think him to be of all three religions and others of none." " It was questionable whether this opinion about FREE THOUGHT 227 him was beneficial or not. In Scotland the Regent Moray- was accused of taking religion as a cloak to enrich himself with the church spoils. In an age of compulsory uniformity, the diffusion of free thought must have been wider than is often supposed. The accusation of atheism was a favourite charge. Leices- ter was accused of being "of no religion" ^^ and of finding advantage in all. Euphues' talk with Atheos suggests a wide agnosticism in the courtly circle. One Carleton, who wrote an essay on religion in England, divided its popula- tion into Papists, Atheists and Protestants declaring the third class the least numerous. ^^ Whoever differed in creed was at once accused of such godlessness. Thomas Cooper denounced the atheists who hated the bishops and who professed religion without caring about it.^^ In the Puritan camp John Penry spoke of the prevalence of athe- ism in Wales. ^^ A great deal of this supposed atheism was only the mildest doubt and did not deserve the violence of invective. Most scepticism remained a current without literary expression. Bacon while apparently confuting atheism, was not out of sympathy with the spirit of doubt. One of its few apologies is to be found in John Bate's *'The Portraiture of Hypocrisy" printed in 1589, with its dialogue between a Christian and an atheist who is left unconvinced. The atheist stands for Epicureanism, and his point of view is not unlike that of the modern agnostic who without know- ing what to believe yet leads a righteous life.^^. . . The writer's avowed purpose was to show the hypocrisy of so many Englishmen who think they have performed their duty if they go to church "for fashion's sake, hear a little and practise less." Hamlet remains the best type of Sixteenth Century ag- nosticism. Conforming outwardly, his doubt was intellec- tual and restrained. Open professions of scepticism were rare. A certain Richard Cholmeley who had once been in the service of the Council, organized a company 228 TUDOR IDEALS of "atheists" who, it was said, professed blasphemous opinions and entertained subversive designs. Harriott the mathematician who had been with Raleigh, Matthew Royden the poet, Marlowe and Kyd were associated with this and the two latter were arrested by the government which took alarm at the spread of atheism. ^^ Marlowe's unbelief was notorious, though the trumped- up charges made against him by a hired ruffian in the attempt to institute a prosecution for blasphemy failed by their excess. But Dr Faustus declares: "Come I think Hell's a fable" and the belief in punishment in the after life fit for "old wives tales." In the "Jew of Malta" Machiavelli counts "religion but a childish toy" and in Tamburlaine, King Sigismund who has just sworn alliance on the Christ, attacks his late ally as soon as he is in difficulties because of not being bound to maintain faith with infidels. Marlowe though he es- caped the law, intentionally makes the pretence of religion an excuse for unrighteousness. Francis Kett, who had attended the same College at Cambridge, was burned at the stake for his unorthodox views about the Trinity and divinity of Christ. Benet College contained the seeds of scepticism, but Oxford also .was accused of being a cen- tre of free thought. ^^ The end of the Sixteenth Century witnessed a far wider diffusion of agnosticism than the beginning. The feeling against Raleigh was increased by the suspicion of his im- piety, for agnosticism was never a popular profession. ^^ Essex on the scaffold thanked God that he had never been an atheist or Papist, but in the arraignment against him it was said that his companions came from both categories. The association of such extremes is not to be taken too literally, but shows that any departure from respect for established authority was laid down either to atheism or papistry. The increased stability resting on strengthened foundations of order caused free opinion to be restrained. With a wild bohemian like Marlowe FREE THOUGHT 229 full of youthful exuberance, it burst. With most others it was concealed behind outward conformity, though occa- sional evidences of doubt crop out. Sir Richard Barckley who professed belief, quoted the story of the Indian Chief who, hearing from De Soto that he was a Christian come to instruct savages in the knowledge of the law, replied " If thy God command thee to run over other men's coun- tries, robbing, burning, killing and omitting no kind of wickedness, we will tell you in a few words that we can neither beheve in him or his laws." ^o VIII. PACIFISM AND WAR An age which has left its record of horrors, also expressed ideals of brotherhood and of mercy unheard since the de- cay of the ancient world. Two reasons explain this par- adox. The power of the centralized state supplied it with instruments of force on a scale previously unknown, and like to-day the capacity for good and evil became enormously increased. The evil came from the practical enforcement of policy methodically organized and re- lentlessly carried out. The good emanated from the ap- peal of an ancient civilization at last understood. For the first time human conscience allowed instincts of compassion to mature. However rudimentary the ex- pression of European public opinion may seem, however slight was its real power, the fact that it existed in a modern sense and was not merely the dead voice of medi- eval scholasticism possesses enormous importance. Eight- eenth Century ideas of human perfectibihty and brother- hood date from the Renaissance. Because a noble hope is confined to a minority unable to apply it practically, does not mean that it is negligible. The action of a majority is not, necessarily, a safer test of permanent value. Historians have so generally confined their study to the governing class, that they tend to disregard other expressions whose influence cannot be 'brushed aside because of cherishing ideals out of relation with the necessities of the time. The ideal of peace was not born in the Renaissance. Medieval political philosophy with its conception of the Christian republic and its universal dream of the Empire had often expressed it. A poet like Gower inveighs against the horror of war.^ Sir David Lyndsay calls shame on those who take the name of Christians to make war.^ 230 PACIFISM AND WAR 231 The pacifism of the Sixteenth Century for the first time saw things in a more modern Hght. Erasmus raised his voice against war, even with the Turks, on the ground of their being men for whose salvation Christ had suflFered. No recent argument against war can be stronger than some of the Sixteenth Century writings on the subject,^ or Breughel's paintings of its horrors. More's traveller returning from Utopia contrasts the warlike pleasures of princes in Europe with the peace- fulness of Utopians. They are averse to alliances because these tend to make people believe that without them na- tions are enemies. The fellowship of nature is strong and men are more surely knit together by love than by cov- enant. Utopians waged war solely in defence of their own country or "to deliver from the yoke and bondage of tyranny some people that be therewith oppressed."* They saved their enemies' land as much as possible, and obliged them only to pay as indemnity the cost of the war. Compassion for their foes is not the least modern of the Utopian traits. "They do no less pity the base and com- mon sort of their enemies' people than they do their own; knowing that they be driven and enforced to war against their wills by the furious madness of their princes and heads. "5 A few men cherished a noble ideal in the seclusion of their studies. But how different was reality. The chap- ter of cruelty did not vary much from the history of war before or since. Amid much indifference to suffering, there are occasional examples of kindness shown to the enemy, perhaps, on grounds of policy. How far were instincts of compassion aroused, how far were these merely dictated by the wish to appear conciliatory.? After Sol- way Moss the Scottish prisoners were most hospitably entertained in London. The treatment of captives is among the tests of human- ity. It was a grievance of the French that their prisoners in England were badly used,^ in contrast with the Duke of 232 TUDOR IDEALS Guise who found himself warmly praised for the courtesy he displayed to the English captured at Guisnes/ Cruelty was oftener the rule. Somerset whose domes- tic government was humane carried out his expedition against Scotland with a ruthlessness which shocked even Englishmen. De Selve, the French Ambassador, remon- strated with the Protector because of the inhuman treat- ment shown French prisoners captured in the Scottish wars and protested against the execution of the Spaniards taken at the siege of Yester. Somerset explained the first on the ground of reprisals for the alleged bad treatment of the English on the French galleys, but the second, more difficult, was put down to the fact that these had not been promised their lives. ^ Instincts of compassion were commended, but ruth- lessness excited no indignation. In Lord Hertford's ex- pedition against Scotland in 1544, it seemed natural that Edinburgh should be burned to the ground and the con- temporary chronicle relates that the English light horse- men left neither village nor house nor stack of corn unburnt within seven miles of the capital. There is less cause for surprise at such acts than at the indifference with which they were told. At Dunbar, the citizens believed themselves safe from the English who refrained from vi- olence until the moment of their departure, when the in- habitants being in bed they set fire to the town "and in their first sleep closed in with fire the men, women, and children were suffocated and burnt. " ^ The horrors of warfare in a ravaged country excited the compassion of an old soldier like La Noue who tried thereby to impress its evils. Languet wrote Sidney of the madness of those who longed for a reputation founded on bloodshed and believed there was no glory save that connected with the destruction of mankind. He entreated Sidney to employ his own particle of divinity "for the preservation and not the destruction of man." ^^ Languet indignant at the butchery going PACIFISM AND WAR 233 on in the Low Countries could write of Alva that nothing vexed him more than having left survivors of his cruelty. The Spanish atrocities shocked those who like Gascoigne admired their courage and warlike skill. His account of the Sack of Antwerp in 1576 helped to arouse the violent hatred against them. Their cruelty in the colonies also revolted the English. Las Casas had censured his own countrymen for their savagery, and his English translator remarked that posterity would doubt "that ever so barbarous or cruel a nation hath been in the world." ^^ In England, the feeling of humanity was applauded as a national virtue. The virtues of the English were brought into relief and writers refused to admit that they had ever been guilty of acts of cruelty in war.^^ Cruelty when committed was less a principle than a policy which came easily to the rougher nature of the age, and was often tried alternately with more humane practice. Philip II having failed with Alva tried conciliation with Parma. Henry VIII cruel by nature used a conciliatory policy in Ireland, while the reverse was true of Elizabeth. To those ac- quainted with local conditions then as now, mildness seemed an error and only the strong hand impressed. ^^ The charge of wanton savagery cannot be laid at the door of England in comparison with Spain, but there were occasions when English ferocity could not easily have been surpassed. The resistance of the Irish stirred their worst passions, and cold-blooded massacres more than once disgraced British arms. Such wholesale butchery as the murder of the Spanish and Italian expedition to Ireland after its surrender shocked even contemporary opinion, and was only explained on the ground that the English lacked food wherewith to feed the prisoners. There were some Englishmen like Sir William Herbert who felt ashamed that instead of justice and civilization for the poor inhabitants, the occupation should have led to such disgraceful excesses. IX. THE FEELING OF COMPASSION Not the absence of cruelty but the fact that for the first time it stirred men to indignation, made the Sixteenth Century remarkable. Practice and some theory sustained ruthless enforcement of policy and law, but there were glimmerings of humanity and the birth of an opinion which was gradually to exercise a civilizing influence. Thomas More wrote that the death penalty was too great a punishment for theft and by surpassing the needs of justice proved injurious to the Commonwealth. All the goods in the world could not make up for human life.^ No jurist ever made a clearer distinction between the taking of life and the taking of property. Later in the century, the Catholic controversialist Starkey wrote that it was a disgrace for England "to be governed by the laws given to us of such a barbarous nation as the Normans" and that hanging men for petty theft was both against nature and humanity.^ The Frenchman Perhn who visited England in the middle of the century, had been shocked by the cruelty of its justice which he contrasted unfavourably with the French where punishment was proportioned to the crime. ^ Spenser condemned the application of English law to Ireland. Laws, he thought, ought not to be imposed on men but fashioned in accordance with the manners and conditions of the people for whom they are intended. "No laws of man are just but as in regard of the evils which they prevent and the safety of the Commonwealth which they provide for." ^ Although prisons were not reformed until a compar- atively recent date their abuses were even then deplored by some. Brynklow inveighed against the cruelty shown to offenders in prison whose lodging was " too bad for hogs 234 THE FEELING OF COMPASSION 235 and as for their meat it is evil enough for dogs."^ In Stubbes' opinion death was preferable to imprisonment in subterranean dungeons.^ Some efforts were made to bring relief to these unfortunates. Latimer relates that Master Bilney used to spend his time in visiting prisoners and sick.^ Toward the end of the century imprisonment for debt was regarded with disapproval.^ The practice of torture currently used to elicit informa- tion and, occasionally in punishment, was revolting. In 158 1 when Alexander Brian suffered martyrdom with Fathers Campion and Sherwin, pins were thrust under his nails and water was denied him till he was driven to lick the moisture of the wall.^ Executions with all their horrible details were too frequent to affect the popular imagination. Glancing at the pages of any contemporary diary one notices how perfunctorily they are related. ^° Camden briefly narrating the horrible details of Babing- ton's execution remarks that it was done "not without some note of cruelty." ^^ A tradition of benevolence had been handed down in England from time immemorial. The earliest hospitals probably owed their origin to similar institutions in Italy. St. Bartholomew's was founded by a pilgrim on his return from Rome and several benevolent foundations in London trace a medieval origin. Peele relates how Edward I returning from the Crusade established an institution for his disabled men.^^ Legacies to hospitals and for the poor were frequent. ^^ Henry VII who built the Savoy hospital for one hundred poor persons also intended to erect a large hospital at Bath on the model of one in Paris. The deficiencies of organized charity were to a great extent made up by the broad hospitality everywhere displayed. It was a recog- nized duty of the almoner of a castle to dole to the poor the viands left over.^* Stow relates how Edward, Earl of Derby, fed regularly sixty aged poor and on certain occa- sions gave drink and money to thousands. The Lady 236 TUDOR IDEALS Margaret of Richmond maintained twelve poor people in her house and attended them herself when they fell ill.^^ Bishop Fisher's doors were always open to the needy, and Wolsey even in disgrace kept open house to all comers rich and poor.^^ Such examples could be multiplied. Thomas Cromwell, little of a humanitarian, daily fed 200 people, observing that "ancient and charitable custom as all prelates, noblemen or men of honour and worship his predecessors had done before him." ^^ Nor was it only among great officials that this practice was observed. The Ballad, on the death of Lord Huntington, says in his praise " His gates were still open the strangers to feed and comfort the succourless always in need." ^^ Latimer wrote of his father that though a poor yeoman he gave hospitality to his poorer neighbours. ^^ The practice of benevolence was traditional, butinadequate to grappling with the larger problems of poverty and unemployment which the economic changes of the century brought about. Latimer referred to the then owner of his father's farm who was no longer able "to give a cup of drink to the poor," and how conditions had changed from former days, when everyone left money for the relief of those in want and to help needy students at the University.^" The increase in poverty was attributed to the suppres- sion of the monasteries, which had before done much for relief but whose inmates, now cast on the highroad, added to the vagrancy. Rabid reformers like Brynklow and Simon Fish ended by regretting the passing of the monks who had never raised rents and always succoured the needy.^^ Misery excited compassion, and a conscious feeling of pity stirred men. The inner history of the age still remains obscure, but it is probable that if the economic change had been less brutally effected, the numerous risings in the name of religion might not have found supporters among the discontented. THE FEELING OF COMPASSION 237 An active feeling of duty to the poor became notice- able. Its expressions range from the sympathy of men in high position like More, Elyot,^^ and even Wolsey, who made lawyers plead gratis for all poor suitors ^^ till it reached popular preachers like Lever and Fish who pro- claimed relief to the needy as a duty.^'* Practical reformers like Crowley and Brynklow urged the appointment of medical practitioners in every town to look after the poor without pay ^^ and proposed that a certain number of children in each city should be brought up at the expense of the community.^® The plans of social reformers were rarely constructive. Attacking abuses they had less in mind a feasible plan for reform than a return to the medieval structure of a society where the relations from peasant to king were established beforehand. Although revolted by the effects of the great upheaval which had transformed every class, and been the apparent cause for so much misery, they had no real plan to suggest. The poor were under the special protec- tion of the king and to take this away was against the royal honour. ^^ Edward VI was greatly interested in the condition of the needy. Hospitals which depended on monastic foundations had suffered confiscation under his father's reign and in spite of the petitions by the city of London had not been restored. With the new king such founda- tions for the sick and for poor children were once more established^^ and he himself gave up the palace of Bride- well as a workhouse for the destitute. After a sermon by Bishop Ridley exhorting the rich to relieve the afflicted of their distress, the king was so much moved that he wrote to the mayor and a committee was appointed to consider the question. It resulted in perhaps the first large attempt made in England to deal with the problem of poverty. The poor were divided into three main classes, those by impotency, by casualty, and the thriftless, and each of these in turn was subdivided into 238 TUDOR IDEALS three sub-classes. The first by impotency included (i) orphans and paupers' children, (2) the aged blind, and lame, (3) the permanently diseased, like lepers. The poor by casualty, comprised (4) the wounded soldiers, (5) the decayed householders, (6) the sufferers from serious illness. Lastly the thriftless poor included (7) the rioters and wasters, (8) vagabonds and vagrants, (9) prostitutes.^^ Houses were established to provide for the different kinds of poor. Vagabonds and idle strumpets were to be chas- tised and compelled to labour at Bridewell. The decayed householder could be looked after in his own home, but lepers were to be segregated outside the city. Edward VI contributed liberally to the annual support of these new institutions. With private benevolence on the wane, a new desire for organization and state direction of charity had been introduced. Like so many other measures of the time it was rudimentary, spasmodic, and incomplete. The poor laws passed during the Sixteenth Century shock us by their harshness which in certain cases condemned vaga- bonds to slavery. But they evince a desire to grapple with the problem of relief, nationally instead of locally. The spirit of altruism which had before been the province of castle and monastery now passed to the state although the state was unprepared to assume its new duty. The transi- tion which took place was a necessary link in the chain, before real progress could be accomplished. Provision was made for the aged and the impotent poor at the charge of the parish, and the curate was ordered to remind his congregation of their charitable duty to these. Laws were passed from time to time fixing local responsibility as a general principle. Holinshed comments at length on the poor laws and the weekly collections taken in every parish of the realm. ^^ Many gave and left their money freely for charity, while benevolent societies like that of "The Chest" at Chatham in which Haw- kins and Drake found interest, were also established. THE FEELING OF COMPASSION 239 The feeling of compassion was growing. Men began to feel more strongly the need of helping their fellow crea- tures.^^ Rosalind bids Brion spend a year tending the afflicted in hospitals. The extremes of poverty existed and the Sixteenth Century mind was unable to grap- ple successfully with the vast problem. Stubbes could write feelingly about the miserable condition of the poor who lay starving in the streets of London, while people spent fortunes on dress. ^^ Such misery was all the more impressive because a new chord of humanity had been awakened in England. Benevolence was no longer the care of monk and knight or even of rich city merchants, but of the entire population. X. MORALITY It is fortunately impossible to cast a nation's morals into statistical form, but a subject which touches so inti- mately the soul of the people cannot be dismissed because of its evasive nature, nor confined solely within the wall of sex. The early moral evolution of Tudor England is difficult to discuss as soon as one leaves the common groundwork of all ages. The time was still dumb and inarticulate. The human outlook in England at the end of the Middle Ages was peculiarly sombre, with little to elevate, to at- tract or to redeem. The tendency of medieval life had been to make rigid the framework of society. Under such conditions the value of personality was depressed and man became largely absorbed by caste. Even morality yielded to the oppres- sion of such ideas, and human beings became the chattels of a system which they had helped to form. Freedom from such tyranny came only gradually through the crumbling of a structure which had lost its vitality. When the discipline of an order is relaxed, its constituent parts become free to assert themselves. The weakness of the feudal system grew apparent by the lawlessness which set in as soon as its balance was upset. Anarchy is the un- licensed form of individualism. But political changes were only the outward expression for moral ones. During those intermediate stages between periods of great change, ideas turn fluid. When they harden, again something has altered although the consciousness of what this is, may not at once become apparent. When Englishmen began to feel their awakening, the moral individualism which made men think and judge, 240 MORALITY 241 was almost a novel sensation. It had not been unknown during the Middle Ages but it could never then take deep root because the means of rapid diffusion and organization against established institutions were still lacking. In the early Sixteenth Century, the crown was pleased to find a new born public opinion directed on moral grounds against the monasteries in whose destruction it hoped to find profit. Monastic abuses seemed unpardonable to the early Six- teenth Century because they were the abuses of another age while evils incident to their suppression were those of the time and therefore appeared less offensive to con- temporaries. How far such abuses were justified is hardly the ques- tion. Catholic historians have proved that the monas- teries were far from being such sinks of iniquity as con- temporary opinion represented them. Their real sin lay in having ceased to be in vital relation with the needs of the people. The growing popular consciousness turned with sound instinct but false reason against institutions which no longer justified their existence. Skelton who is as bad a poet as he is an interesting critic of the age, ex- pressed the feeling of resentment against the comfortable wealth of the monasteries and the neglect of bishops who had become heedless of their flocks' welfare. In England and Scotland the friars were the butt for the moral censure of the time, A new public opinion formed by different currents felt its strength by uniting against an unpopular and rich institution of foreign origin and partially under foreign control. Yet there is little to prove that the evils pointed out were more the rule than the exception. Undoubtedly any iron law applied to hu- man beings often in the most inhuman manner, is certain to provoke a revolt hidden or open on the part of natures who find themselves enmeshed in a web where they can- not rest but from which they are unable to escape. Herein, must be found the defence for many of the lapses from conventional standards which were eagerly seized 242 TUDOR IDEALS upon by enemies of the system. Where monasticism failed to impose its discipline it provoked an apparent immorality which was in no way characteristic, but more often a reaction from a system too far removed from life. To judge such exceptions as representative of the whole or as injurious to the population, is to distort the facts. Although morality provided the excuse which could unite fanatical reformers eager to sweep away the past, and rapacious courtiers eager to divide the spoils, it was not the real reason which made desirable the suppression of the monasteries. Morals were no better and in many respects worse after this had been accomplished. The immorality of earlier times had been largely caused by the existence of definite unnatural circumstances. The new immorality was one of individual license and greed caused by the sudden removal of former conditions and untempered by the restraints of anything more than a spasmodic public opinion. The evils attached to institutions change shape after decay. Morals ceased to form part of a rigid system but were increasingly attached to the individual whose actions, for better or for worse, became freer. Human beings were no longer left under a fixed discipline. A new con- science and new appetites were awakened. The moral nature of man became immensely extended. The old sanctions had largely disappeared or been transformed and another order had not yet arisen. The extension of fresh interests, the acquisition of wealth, the introduc- tion of new fashions, the opening of other perspectives were as many avenues which called into play instincts moral and immoral. We are too prone to confine the latter to questions of sex, whereas they affect the entire nature of man. And human nature always reacts to the the spur of fresh opportunity. For the vast majority who did not fall to depths of sin or rise to heights of saintliness, the rule of conduct came rather from a mingled sense of honour, patriotism and in- MORALITY 243 terest. Among the upper classes the conduct of life was no longer shaped by rigid rule, but by a variety of circum- stances still undefined or largely unwritten, but which had little to do with religion sanctions. The charges of atheism levelled against Thomas Cromwell or Queen Elizabeth arose from the perception of their individualism. The Renaissance did not willingly betray its own secrets, and the defence for the conduct of individuals found no written apology. The age was marked by parallel movements which as- sumed contradictory forms. The growth of luxury and the introduction of foreign refinements aided the pursuit of pleasure as circumstances, which if they did not directly make for immorality were yet associated therewith. Individualism ran riot on both sides and the abuse of moralists proved more violent than the misdeeds attacked. In satire, sermon, tract, and pamphlet, the outburst ten- ded to mould a new public opinion. Moral pleas will al- ways unite the mass against alleged vices which remain dumb. Those who dislike the foreign origin of luxury with its supposedly pernicious Influence on morals vented their instinctive preferences by roundly abusing whatever came from abroad.^ In every age or land it is easy to draw up a calendar of vice and call it typical. A certain residue of evil will al- ways exist without enduring harm, but nothing is more misleading than to overemphasize this. Vice and virtue are floating instincts whose expression and volume vary with circumstance whenever conditions put new dress on old sins. In an age like the Sixteenth Century, high virtue was often accompanied by vice. In matters of sex, such knowledge as we possess of its worthies' intimate life, suggest neither severe standards nor unusual laxity. In England the world of courtesans never assumed the importance it did in Italy. No Ver- onica Franco graces the annals of its cultivation, and it always remained degraded and hidden from view, with- 244 TUDOR IDEALS out the brilliancy or ostentation it tended to assume in Latin countries. To suggest that the libertinage of the court was not representative of England is to utter the commonest of platitudes, but if one appropriates its virtues it is unfair to reject the remainder. Certainly the individual who, in circles of the court, willingly conformed himself to the discipline of courage and when necessary of sacrifice, could in other respects be allowed wide latitude without the nation being the worse for it. That vice may have grown during England's heroic age is not unlikely for it is usually associated with wealth and leisure. Less ap- parent to contemporary observers was the fact of its accompaniment by new virtues. Vice by itself has never ruined a nation except when unrelieved by qualities. Rome in the Augustan age was, probably, far more im- moral than four centuries later. Englishmen in the Sixteenth Century were little better or worse than at other times. The violent outbursts of Puritans were largely partisan and John Knox' private life proves that even in his circle men were susceptible to feminine charm. XL THE FAMILY The Sixteenth Century man who asserted himself success- fully in new fields, discovered greater difficulty as soon as he clashed against an accepted institution. Individual freedom is difficult to attain when domestic relations are imposed by a rigorous law. The family at such times exercises a pressure which makes for restricting personal liberty. It tends to create a mechanical conception of human intercourse, depresses the value of personality, and sanctions an exaggerated development of conventions which have arisen out of natural human relations. The spirit of Tudor England, in many respects conducive to freedom, and in some even to license, remained in others enough under the influence of a medieval past to accept conventional family relationships based on material advantage regardless of preference or of personal happi- ness. Long recognized institutions developed this feeling and contributed to reactions of laxity in other respects. In the "Paston Letters" one reads that Stephen Scrope was sold by his stepfather Sir John Fastolf to the Chief Justice of England, Sir William Gascoigne, for 500 marks, and later, when he had been disfigured for life, bought back again. "He bought me and sold me as a beast." ^ Foreigners were impressed by the lack of family affection in England. A mother remarks casually of her daughter being beaten "twice in one day and her head broken in two or three places." ^ Children were sent to be brought up in the houses of strangers. Thomas More, after he had finished his first Latin studies was placed by his father in Cardinal Morton's household where he served at table. ^ Boys were thought to learn better manners in strangers' houses, 24s 246 TUDOR IDEALS but the Italian traveller set down the reason to lack of family afiFection, although More's own household later offered a conspicuous exception. The system of wards in chancery for whom marriages were regularly arranged, arose from the slight value attached to human personality. The brother of the Duke of Suffolk, a lad of eighteen, was boarded out to a widow of fifty, whom he married.^ Contemporaries condemned the practice of wards as leading to adultery and divorce.^ It shocked the better minds of the age. "Our old barbar- ous custom of wards must be abrogated," says Cardinal Pole, "as it destroys true love in matrimony." ^ But marriage was hardly ever regarded as a matter of affection. The mechanical conception of human relations prevailed which caused family ties to seem a question of barter and convenience. Royal marriages, to-day, are often regarded in this light. Yet even these no longer go so far as Henry the Seventh, who after the death of his wife, thought of marrying his widowed daughter-in-law, Katherine of Aragon, and when this fell through, was not averse to marriage with her sister the Mad Juana in spite of her insanity. That the most cautious of men and most exemplary of husbands could entertain such ideas, shows that he did not anticipate that they would meet with any serious criticism. The free play of human inclination was rarely able to assert its rights in the face of rigid ideas of obligation surrounding marriage. Thomas More had been desirous to wed Colet's second daughter but on reflecting that the first would feel slighted at seeing the younger preferred to herself in marriage, he changed his affections for her elder sister.'^ Child marriages provided another cause for frequent unhappiness.^ Lord Mountjoy, when he re- turned to England with Erasmus, had been married for more than two years, while his child wife remained under her father's roof. Surrey is said to have been married at sixteen, Sir Thomas Wyatt the Younger at fifteen. THE FAMILY 247 A moralist like Latimer deplored the evil of marriages which took place only because they joined "land to land and possession to possessions." ^ Where such slight respect was entertained for human happiness, Henry VIII 's personal immorality was not without its good effects. The mechanical conception of the family which had strongly marked all social life, was in his case at least replaced by ideas depending on more human inclinations. His whims it is true, were pushed to an outrageous exaggeration and darkened by cruelty and crime. Yet paradoxical as it may seem, the glaring immorality attending the royal uxoriousness, was in cer- tain respects more conducive to moral betterment than the pure family life of Henry VII. Where the father built his domestic relations solely on a foundation of interest, the son by giving rein to his basest instincts freed the individual from the oppression of the sole wish for material advantage. In spite of a personal immorality he helped to introduce healthier ideas of free selection. His influence went further than is suspected. The King's marriage to Anne Boleyn has been narrated from every point of view save that in following the inclination of his heart, he was unconsciously expressing the modern idea of individual choice. Cutting loose from the earlier immorality of sordidness, the king's example, bad as it was, aided to restore the free volition of man in the great relations of life. To his credit, he accepted the same ideas in others of his family and to the surprise of many ac- quiesced in his sister the widowed Queen of France marry- ing a lately ennobled commoner whom he made his bosom friend. The royal example was typical of the Renaissance by its assertion of human rights and its substitution of the individual for the collective interest. Katherine Parr, herself, the chastest of ladies, after burying three husbands married a fourth only four months after the death of Henry VIII. In domestic relations people felt increasingly that they 248 TUDOR IDEALS were human beings and not pieces who fitted into a caste. The Duchess of Suffolk after the misadventures of her family from Lady Jane Grey to Lady Mary who had married Keys the groom porter at the Court, "herself forgetting the nobility of her lineage had married Adrian Stokes a mean gentleman to her dishonour but for her security." ^^ A modern mind like Sir Henry Wotton's contrasted the freer English practice with the German who sought in matrimony to equal his title and regarded marriage with a commoner's daughter as a blot on the family. "England is more lighthearted in these cases and even the greatest women have the destiny to match with their own servants." Henry VIII influenced his subjects' ideas in contra- dictory ways. The effect of the royal divorce upon the English people is not unnaturally regarded as one of the touchstones of its morals. It was so interwoven with political and religious threads, that it cannot be judged solely in this light. Undoubtedly the king setting Kather- ine aside on a flimsy pretext, disturbed many subjects who felt human pity for an innocence which had done no wrong. If his action had been more rapid and less concerned with seeking papal sanction for his conduct, the awe then inspired by the prince was so great that censure would have held its wings. The long dragged out divorce pro- ceedings caused an awakened moral feeling which sim- mered through his reign, till the habit of judging royalty became familiar to the ideas of the age. How far the royal example reacted on the nation is not easy to establish. By itself it was a sensational develop- ment of the new spirit freeing human volition. Henry VIII, by temperament the most despotic of men, would doubtless have been the last to recognize that he was preparing the ground for the liberty of others, with whom his own immoral license might become a moral order. Often the most commonplace occurrences in an age are the most difficult to discern. Forming part of the unwritten THE FAMILY 249 code of life the memory disappears as soon as the tradition alters. During the Sixteenth Century, although relics of the past like the ward system survived in family life, its abuses were no longer so flagrant. As is often the case in a long drawn silent contest affecting not dift'erent classes but the same class at different ages, a kind of compromise was reached which must have satisfied the needs of the majority. There are indications that others beside the king wanted their freedom of choice. Changes which seemed so repre- hensible to old-fashioned moralists were a sign of progress. Roger Ascham could write "Our time is so far from that old discipline and obedience as now, not only young gentlemen but even very girls dare without all fear though not without open shame, where they list and how they list marry themselves in spite of father, mother, God, good order and all." ^^ In Scotland, Lyndsay at heart a mediev- alist in spite of his reforming propensities, was scandalized at the "bastard bairns of state spiritual" marrying those of noble blood, and would have each order marry only among themselves with the penalty for nobles of degra- dation from their rank.^^ The condemnation of such marriages is proof of what was then taking place. Ancient ideas which find support in self-interest are tardy in their decay. But new thoughts of human freedom and dignity were in the air. Amid disappearing traditions human personality shapes its own path. Canon law which survived the discarded authority of Rome acted as a brake, and was used as a discipline even by reformers to bring sta- bility to the domestic relations of life. Others than the \ king, however, found means of twisting the law to their desire. When the Marquis of Northampton put aside his first wife to marry Elizabeth Cobham and had been sum- moned in consequence before Somerset's Council, he ob- tained the support of Hooper who advocated equal liberty of divorce in case of adultery. This was contrary to the same Canon law which had at one time been ready to toler- 250 TUDOR IDEALS ate two wives for Henry VIII but refused to recognize di- vorce. After Somerset's fall, Northampton found means to legalize his second marriage by act of Parliament. In an age of transition, where the individual is powerful enough, he is able to do as he likes. Not so when a con- servative reaction has again created conditions of stability. Lord Mountjoy, the greatest soldier of Elizabeth's reign, could live in open sin with Lady Rich — the Penelope of Sidney's love. A special precedence could be created for her at Court where such intimacy was accepted. But their marriage after divorce scandalized a society accustomed to accept whatever was beneath the surface, but unwilling to see the Canon law openly violated. Married life, as in our day, allowed for all extremes. Florizel falls in love with Perdita. Lord Rich gives his wife every license, so long as her brother Essex is power- ful, but divorces her after his execution. More and Bacon uphold high standards of fidelity. The question of love in and out of wedlock carries one into a realm where ex- perience is doubtful. Courtly life centred around gallan- try. Love was the goal of earthly attainment; deeds of valour were mainly to win such love and the lover had to consecrate his life to his lady. The medieval ideal sur- vived long after a different spirit had penetrated, for it is difficult to conceive of a court where such ideas were of less practical importance. The hardheadedness of the Tudors found relaxation in playing with fancies whose worth they would have been the last to exaggerate. It is unnecessary to wait for the Restoration to dis- cover modern ideas of the sex no longer raised to the pin- nacle imposed by earlier convention. Lyly expressed the prevalent court feeling. His goal is not one of passion but of money and position, the desire for which is unabashed. The conventions of chivalry are frankly abandoned for a pleasant banter, and a learned preciosity, fitting in with fashionable cultivated tendencies. At the court of Elizabeth, morals were neither so good THE FAMILY 251 nor so bad as at times represented. Lord Southampton might pursue an intrigue with Miss Vernon, but so soon as her condition rendered it necessary, he married her in spite of the risk. A Manningham might comment on the Earl of Sussex keeping his mistress openly as "a practise to bring the nobility into contempt and beggary." So- cial conditions were then approximating a more mod- ern phase. Below the court circle it is difficult to generalize. In spite of Puritan attacks there was great improvement in the personal conduct of the clergy, although an arch- bishop paid blackmail on one famous occasion. ^^ Puri- tanism was already asserting its cleansing force. PART IV THE ENRICHMENT OF LIFE I. THE MODERN SPIRIT With the Renaissance, man appears as a self-conscious being, open to impression, less hardened by convention, more concerned with this life and less by the next than during the Middle Ages. A new intellectual curiosity left him no longer afraid of ideas. Modern man was born in England in the Sixteenth Cen- tury. In Scotland where many still lived a medieval life, James Buchanan, the humanist, could write self-con- sciously that he was born "neither in a climate, country nor age that was learned." In England, however, medieval and modern types of men intermingled and blended with the modern in increasing frequency. Yet how hard it is to lay down any real cleavage of type between the two, can be judged from Thomas More's example. He was modern in the best sense, by his respect for human life, his im- mense sympathy for the oppressed, and his small rever- ence for the mighty. Classical secular morality made him accept suicide for those afflicted by incurable disease.^ But More wore the hair shirt next to his skin, and ruth- lessly persecuted heresy. The contradiction of the age offers no more striking example. Self-consciousness is the mental watershed which sepa- rates the Renaissance from the Middle Ages. As soon as men reasoned about their age and contrasted it with me- dieval rudeness they had reached the threshold of modern times. A new introspection had been learned. Sidney writes to Languet: "In your letters I fancy I see a picture of the age in which we live; an age that resembles a bow too long bent, it must be unstrung or it will break. "^ Languet who had taught Sidney his humanity was modern, when he wrote an apology for Pibrac who, in order to 255 2s6 TUDOR IDEALS save his life, had been forced to publish a defence of the Massacre of St. Bartholomew which he detested. "I am accustomed to judge of men otherwise than most persons do; unless they are utterly depraved, I cull out their good qualities if they have any; and if through error or weakness they fail in any point, I put it out of sight as far as I can."^ The gigantic transformations of the Sixteenth Century, the clash between opposing forces, and the confusion be- tween spiritual and political interests presented a specta- cle of chaos to those to who tried to reason. Even to-day, with the perspective of centuries behind us and the com- parative indifference caused by our remoteness, we can hardly explain the age, save in the light of our sympathies or prejudices. How much more difficult was the task of whoever breathed its air or felt stirred by its living emotions. Men realized that the epoch was quite unlike any other. Geoffrey Fenton alludes to his time as "seasons so perilous and conspiring," ^ and Pietro Ubaldini, dedicating his "Il- lustrious Women" to Queen Elizabeth, calls the age "this our unhappy century. " Yet a contemporary of Shakes- peare and Spenser could write — "We have fallen into the barren age of the world . . . there is general sterility. " ^ The tendency of thinkers in any period of sudden change is to express regret for a real or mythical past. Only after another generation is born, do men begin to preach the merits of the new. Gabriel Harvey who has passed most unjustly into history as a pedant, takes up the defence of his time in a letter to Spenser: "You suppose the first age was the Golden Age. It is nothing so. Bodin defendeth the gold age to flourish now and our first great-grandfathers to have rubbed through in the iron and brazen age at the beginning, when all things were rude and imperfect in comparison of the ex- quisite finesse and delicacy that we are grown into at these days. " ^ THE MODERN SPIRIT 257 Harvey saw a new spirit sweeping over the land. "England never had more honourable minds, more ad- venturous hearts, more valorous heads or more excellent wits than of late." Let men read of Humphrey Gil- bert and Drake, of Frobisher and Raleigh, to feel pride in their countrymen's achievements in action and letters.^ Samuel Daniel also condemned the "idle affectation of antiquity" and disparaged the achievements of the hu- manists, declaring himself "jealous of our fame and repu- tation." Like any modern evolutionist, he wrote "This is but a character of that perpetual revolution which we see to be in all things that never remain the same and we must herein be content to submit ourselves to the law of time which in few years will make all that for which we now contend nothing."^ Bacon, most modern of all, without prejudice or sym- pathy weighed the current of every force, condemning alike the undue reverence for antiquity and the undue de- sire for novelty. He found the appropriate motto of the age in Charles the Fifth's device of Plus Ultra, " there is more beyond." Sensitiveness to impression, daring thought which led to action and action which led to thought, were the signs of the new spirit. The pleasures of cultivated in- tercourse were being discovered. Literature as the mark of human consciousness was expressing thoughts hitherto unknown. A new consciousness, in part popular, was arising out of letters; a Scottish courtier like David Lyndsay declared that he wrote in the vulgar tongue as his rhymes were in- tended for "colliers, carters, and cooks." ^ Gawain Doug- las translated Virgil in order that it might be read by the masses. A novel literary pride was spreading fostered by consciousness of achievement. Puttenham went about searching for the pure wells of English and discovering them in the shires far from scholars' affectations of the Universities, or the ports where strangers haunt. ^° Wil- 258 TUDOR IDEALS liam Webbe after praising Chaucer remarked, in 1586, that until twenty years before, no work of importance had been written in the English tongue." Spenser told his countrymen that no nation in the world exceeded them in knowledge and humanity. Intellectual curiosity spread from the ancient world's revelation to search into every aspect of life. The de- scriptive narratives which had satisfied medieval interest were succeeded by histories written in a critical spirit. The spirit of the Renaissance meant the awakening self-consciousness in man. The senses of distance and of difference, applied to the criticism of life, were henceforth to become intellectual processes instead of rough general- ities as had been true during the Middle Ages. The feel- ing of the age came from realizing the distance traversed by man and measuring the methods by which this had been effected. Petrarch's "opening the libraries which till then were shut up, and beating away the dust and filth from the good books of ancient authors, "^^ is a not inac- curate. Sixteenth Century explanation of the connexion between the new life and classical times. The reflective mind harked back to antiquity because only there could it find the satisfactions of its desire for reason, order and clarity. In this sense the history of Renaissance scholar- ship is of far greater importance than that of learning at any other time, because it had to do with the criticism of man by himself and of his evolution toward the modern world. 11. THE IDEA OF FAME England which accepted the ideas of Renaissance more placidly than Italy gave less thought to the pursuit of fame. The excessive v/ish for glory and craving for immor- tality, made no real appeal to the English nature though it cannot be overlooked in any study of the age's ideals. Even a poetaster like Skelton had the audacity to write sixteen hundred lines in self-praise where he calls on all the famous poets of antiquity to do him honour.^ The wish for immortality formed part of the baggage of a classical education. Erasmus could write of himself, that he would live forever read by all the world, and Gawain Douglas ending his translation of the Mneid para- phrased Horace "The better part of me shall be upheld Above the stars perpetually to ring." ^ Such talk had been heard before from Italian human- ists who travelled over Europe professing the ability to confer immortality,^ although Thomas More put into the mouth of Pico della Mirandola, that often fame hurt men while they lived and did them no benefit after death. The expression of the wish for glory was more frequently to be found in letters than in the conscious shaping of life. Henry VIII's early desire for renown proved to be a transient phase in his nature, though certain satisfac- tions given to his vanity were later served up by Sir Je- rome Bowes, the British Ambassador to Muscovy, when he impressed Ivan the Terrible with the greatness of Queen Elizabeth by relating that her father had kept an Emperor in his pay.^ None of Henry VIII's children mounting the throne 2S9 26o TUDOR IDEALS felt any overwhelming ambition. Contemporaries allege that among the reasons which dissuaded Elizabeth from matrimony, was the fear lest it detract from her personal glory. Far more likely it was her personal authority that she felt would then be in danger. The dread of infamy with posterity certainly did not deter her from the execu- tion of Mary Stuart. The pursuit of fame hardly formed a goal by itself, but was regarded as a desire common to all men. Its stimulus was enhanced by classical ideas, a wider public, and the vast new opportunities favoured by an age of individual effort. Men felt that their achievements would be known. Horizons opened by the Renaissance offered fame as a reward to those who dared. Tamburlaine, the robber chief, aspires to win glory — " because being yet obscure, The nations of the earth admire me not," ^ Richard Grenville dying after his memorable fight declared that his soul would leave behind an everlasting fame. The poet Barnfield could write the well-known epitaph of Hawkins " The waters were his binding sheet The sea was made his tomb, Yet for his fame the ocean was Not sufficient room." Freebooter though he was, Drake deliberately sought fame. His ship was preserved as a national monument. Some even thought that he ordered the execution of Doughty because he saw in the latter "an emulator of his glory. "^ The wish for celebrity then led men toward danger. Languet wrote to Sidney imploring him not to allow an excessive desire for fame to cause him to incur undue risk.'^ Hero worship made it unseemly for anyone of quality long after his death to appear at court in gaudy apparel. THE IDEA OF FAME 261 Spenser could say that "life is not lost for which is bought endless renown that more than death is to be sought." With more generosity than critical sense he assigned immortality freely to many of his contemporaries who with little baggage claimed entrance to Olympus. The Poets' Corner in Westminster Abbey depends, as is known, on a fortunate accident. That in the Sixteenth Century, this could be seized upon and that the pens which wrote the mournful elegies on Spenser's death were after- ward thrown into his tomb, shows a consciousness of poetic dignity and fame peculiarly appropriate for one who like Spenser found compensation for earthly misery in post- humous glory. Such desire stimulated many a writer. Bacon could aptly say that the monuments of the mind were more lasting than those of power and recalled the verses of Homer continuing unchanged for twenty-five hundred years without the loss of a syllable, during which time cities and temples had decayed and perished. He himself advocated the building of enduring monuments. Already a century earlier in Italy the statues of the great Con- dottieri and the Malatesta Temple at Rimini, showed the desire to consecrate fame by the graven image. Save for the tomb, there was no corresponding wish for similar monuments in England till Bacon in his "New Atlantis " suggested a gallery to contain the statues of all great discoverers. Bacon repeats elsewhere Ariosto's fine image, how at the end of the thread of every man's life was suspended a medal with his name. Time waited with shears and when the thread was cut, caught the medal and carried it to the river of Lethe. Above its banks flew many birds who would fish up the medals and carry these in their beaks for a little while, and then let them fall into the river. Yet there were a few swans who if they found a name would carry it to a temple where it remained forever conse- crated. III. DEATH Spiritually, at least, life in medieval times was re- garded as a preparation for death. The imagination had then been most impressed by the mutability of all that is human. A gloomy view was taken of the physical horror of death, for the spirit of the Middle Ages was more external than is commonly realized, and even its mys- ticism rested largely on a physical basis. Death was the great leveller. "Death acclaim how all things must die Pope, Emperor, King, Baron and Knight." ^ With the Sixteenth Century, ancient philosophy came to bear on the problems of life and stoicism with a few elect could help to get the better of physical apprehen- sion. Thomas More, ardent Christian though he was, displayed a spirit worthy of a hero of Plutarch, in his famous answer to the Duke of Norfolk who was urging him in order to save his head, to yield to the king. "Then in good faith the difference between your grace and me is but this, that I shall die to-day and you to-morrow. "^ Toward the end of the century, Humphrey Gilbert in his memorial to the queen, showed the influence of antiq- uity when he wrote — "He is not worthy to live at all that for fear or danger of death shunneth his country's ser- vice and his own honour, seeing that death is inevitable and the fame of virtue immortal. " Classical influence brought about a different attitude from the medieval toward death. It was no longer re- garded as an isolated physical fact but was considered in its relation to life itself, and as an alternative to moral circumstances. Marlowe says — 262 DEATH 263 "Weep not for Mortimer ' That scorns the world and as a traveller Goes to discover countries yet unknown." (Edw. II; V, VI, 63, sq.) The finer minds of the Renaissance felt something of the spirit of ancient philosophy and a supposed agnos- tic like Raleigh could write on the eve of his own execu- tion : "Of death and judgment, heaven and hell Who oft doth think must needs die well." The justification of suicide was of purely pagan lineage, yet Spenser's Red Cross Knight arriving at the Cave of Despair almost succumbed to this temptation.^ Bacon, as is well known, advocated euthanasia and regarded it as the physician's duty to soften the agony of death. Was it training or pride, which then made men and women mount the scaffold with lofty courage. It could not always have been the wish for admiration, such as Malcolm felt for Cawdor's conduct. There was a fatalism in the spirit of the time, and a moral preparation for death which came from the continuous neighbourhood of danger. Nothing could surpass the high courage of Anne Boleyn at the moment of execution.^ Protesting her innocence she felt no regret at death, perhaps because the charge for which she suffered was the only one of which she was completely guiltless. Katherine Howard died with no less resolution.^ Others, like Lady Jane Grey, approached the scaffold with the courage born of youth. The ex- hortation she wrote at the end of her New Testament, the night before her execution, lives as a memorial of one of the noblest of women. ^ So Mary Stuart entered the execution chamber with the same majesty and grace as in a ball room.^ Essex's courage in his trial and at his execution was immensely admired. "His chief care was to leave a good opinion in the people's minds now at parting. " ^ 264 TUDOR IDEALS In his "Commonwealth of England" Sir Thomas Smith had remarked that it was in the nature of Englishmen to neglect death, and praised the resolution of malefactors on their way to execution. There was pride in not wishing to show fear before the unavoidable. Babing- ton's apparent unconcern in watching the disembowel- ling of his accomplice Ballard, although himself about to suffer the same horrible death, was set down to such pride.^ Yet the fear of death was more common than might be supposed, and Latimer speaks of it as worse than death itself. ^° Vast contrasts were to be noted and per- haps the only real distinction between then and now was the complete indifference with which the death of others was regarded. Edward VI records the fact, as simply as he does cold- bloodedly, that his uncle " the Duke of Somerset had his head cut off on Tower Hill on the 22nd of January 155 1-2 between eight and nine o'clock in the morning."" Not a gleam of pity or regret went out to one who had been his ablest and most devoted adviser. If death failed to affect its witnesses, it was often other- wise with those who were to suffer. Sir Thomas Wyatt the Younger begged pitifully for his life after his unsuc- cessful rebellion. The Duke of Northumberland recant- ing his protestantism entreated even for the life of a dog. Not all could face death with resolution. Essex's fellow prisoner. Lord Southampton, imploring the queen's mercy, gave the impression of seeming "too loth to die." Like Claudio in " Measure for Measure " there were those who in time of death to save themselves were ready to stoop to any degree of abjection. No generalization about the Renaissance attitude to- ward life or death would hold true. All it is possible to say, is that the purely Christian attitude of death inherited from the Middle Ages, had been succeeded by one in- fluenced from classical sources, and in its wide diversity approaching the modern point of view. IV. THE FEELING FOR NATURE A BRIEF note on the feeling for nature is in place. The emotional response to the inner sentiment of an age is usually too delicate to create a more permanent mould. Before the Renaissance spiritual life remained little devel- oped outside the walls of religion. Even the comprehen- sion of nature which usually marks a craving for the inner life is absent before comparatively modern times. In the Fifteenth Century an English traveller could cross the St. Gothard blindfold not to see the dangers of the road. With the Renaissance began a kind of intermediate stage toward the understanding of nature. Lear, wan- dering in the storm, is impressed by something deeper than the inclemency of the elements. Roger Ascham has described, in the spirit of Gilbert White, a winter ride near Cambridge,^ over fields covered with crusted snow on which the sunshine played. Most of our knowledge of nature springs from the poets, and it is necessary in their case to divorce convention from real feeling. The appeal made by nature to poetry in the Sixteenth Century did not differ very considerably from that of previous ages. Skelton could catalogue wild fowl and song birds with no small learning yet find little real pleasure in their song. Gawain Douglas showed keen observation of externals and delighted in nature as it appealed to the medieval mind, in such representations of sowers and harvesters as may still be admired in the Breviary of the Duke de Berri. He remained unable to identify himself with the elements, like Shelley, nor draw moral lessons from nature, like Wordsworth. The love of nature on the part of the early English poets was mainly one of description of birds and flowers rather than of its wilder aspects. Wyatt, it is true, 26s 266 TUDOR IDEALS mentions the Alps with modern feeling, while Surrey's descriptions of Windsor Forest contain glimpses of a new vision. But most references are mere catalogues of pleas- ing natural objects arranged in poetical fancies without attempt to penetrate further. The effect of such allu- sions in many poets of the age is pretty, but rarely more subtle and always lacking in grandeur. English pasto- ralism, healthy and fresh and taking real pleasure in wood-life and the "forest green," did not get beyond the convention of certain stock subjects. Even Shakespeare usually sees nature in this light though his genius becomes modern in the oft quoted lines. "And this one life exempt from public haunt Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks Sermons in stones and good in everything." He described the sufferings of the hunted deer in "As You Like It," and of the hare in "Venus and Adonis" with more than rhetorical sympathy for the beast. The human appeal of the Renaissance had awakened hitherto unknown feelings toward dumb beasts. Thomas More made his Utopians relegate hunting to the butchers, regarding it as the most abject part of slaughter.^ Such ideas long dormant through the century were afterward taken up under another form. Whatever faults may be charged to Puritanism, it stood against cruelty shown animals and attacked bearbaiting in the name of religion on the ground that no creature is to be abused as all are made by God.^ V. THE PLEASURE OF THE COUNTRY The pleasure of the garden was introduced on a large scale in the Sixteenth Century. Italian influence showed itself in the English gardens of the period at Hampton Court and at Nonesuch, with its columns and pyramids of marble and spouting fountains. Lord Burleigh's gardens at Theobald with their labyrinths and elaborate water arrangements and their busts of Roman Emperors be- came show places.^ For the first time new conditions of security and the growth of wealth allowed of a vast increase of stately houses, gardens, pools and parks, till nature dressed to the eye formed part of a suitable en- vironment to the residences of the great. The garden, no longer merely for the herbalist, became the province of architects, engineers and sculptors. The taste for garden- ing in England was, however, more finicky than in Italy. The wildness of the Italian distant perspective formed no part of the more domesticated English horizon. Enjoyment of the country springs from one of the deep- est instincts in man, but its expression has always varied in accordance with the prevailing conditions of security, of possession, and even of comfort. During the Middle Ages, the feudal structure resting on a basis of land tenure, caused a very practical feeling toward the land and contributed to restrict its appreciation to perceptions of detail, or else to vague and indefinite professions of pleasure. In the Tudor period, however, a double phenomenon took place, which in no way connected in origin or cause made for the same result. The awakened consciousness of man with the sense of growth in his own development, brought about a keener sense of nature than less articulate and ruder ages had possessed. There is no need to look for this only in the expressions of poets. The general conditions of life 267 268 TUDOR IDEALS existed for the first time in England which permitted the broad diffusion of this taste. The Tudor centraHzation of power carried with it an altered perspective toward the land. Instead of regard- ing it as the unit of national life by its associations and traditions, for the first time since antiquity, it became, so to speak, desocialized and for one brief period, at least, its possession implied no further obligation. The economic consequences of this change with its reactions in agricul- tural disturbances, and its visible result in deerparks and enclosures, have often been commented on, but less at- tention has been paid to the evolution this movement betokened, in regarding nature as a field for pleasurable enjoyment. Coarse-grained lawyers enriched with monk- ish spoils and merchants fresh from the city acquired this feeling. They could indulge in the pleasure of the country and feel a certain survival of consideration, which handed down from former ages was readily transferred to the holder of landed property irrespective of his origin. The English structure of life has always been more ru- ral than urban. So little was a residence in London to the taste of country gentlemen, that it had been found necessary to enact a statute forbidding these to absent themselves from Parliament. A writer who had lived long abroad with his mind fixed on the palaces which adorn even the smallest Italian town, suggested that the gentry should be induced to build houses in the city. Continual residence in the country "is a great rudeness and a bar- barous custom."^ The lack of important industry until a comparatively late period, left city life in England of less importance than in Italy or in the Low Countries. The fact that the British social fabric was already firmly established long before the nation became industrialized, allowed the countryside, so to speak, to steal a march on the city and has been among the causes which until recent times made for the sacrificed existence of the latter in much that con- THE PLEASURE OF THE COUNTRY 269 cerns the more durable pleasures of life. Property engen- ders roots and roots engender respect. Position was at- tained through the country and rarely through the town. Even after the decay of feudalism, country life carried with it a prestige derived from older associations. Hos- pitality was generously extended. The chivalrous tra- ditions inherited from feudal times survived after the spirit of the castle had disappeared. Lord Shrewsbury, in spite of the risk, received the disgraced Wolsey at Shef- field Park on his last journey with the utmost courtesy. English country life became established on its modern basis during the Sixteenth Century. The novel condi- tions of stability and order, the diffusion of luxury and the rise of a new propertied class, were all circumstances which made for its appreciation and which in turn were to be productive of a domesticated idea of nature. An- other cause contributing to this result was entirely intel- lectual. The revival of classical antiquity and its lesson both direct and indirect, through text, translation and con- tinental influence, added to this feeling, and by an odd paradox, dusty manuscripts helped to arouse the sense of nature. Men loved the country more after they had read Theocritus and Virgil, while so artificial a growth as the pastoral comedy could by devious paths throw back to nature. The ideal of the Renaissance was that of action in the service of the state. But those who most successfully obeyed this call, felt the want of an alternative and a refuge, if only for old age. Partly influenced by an- cient philosophical ideas, partly by inclinations fathered by new conditions of life, the country could be regarded as a normal residence for whoever was not actively em- ployed. Men turned toward it naturally as a place of abode where they could freely indulge their tastes. The destruction of the feudal system made the country possi- ble for a pleasurable life and opened it to all comers. An ideal of life was then formed, which looked toward a 270 TUDOR IDEALS tranquil and cultivated existence in the independence of a country home. "This maketh me at home to hunt and hawk And in foul weather at my book to sit," ^ wrote Wyatt describing his pleasures far away from the atmosphere of the court. VI. THE DESIRE FOR BEAUTY Italian art won an easy victory over a disintegrating medievalism north of the Alps, The new standard of taste which came out of the Italian Renaissance was every- where blended differently and often the immediate in- fluence was less important than where this came indirectly. The gulf between Italy and England had been too wide to be bridged over as easily as in France. Florentine mas- ters at Fontainebleau could plant a tree able, at once, to shoot out its own roots, but the Italian artists in Eng- land left no direct influence behind them. The tombs by Torrigiano at Westminster, show how heavy handed and Gothic that sculptor became away from the sharp criti- cism of his native soil. Want of appreciation offered slight incentive to the foreign artist mainly concerned with his material reward. The Tuscan craftsmen who worked at Hampton Court were only an importation of little more than fleeting importance. The first attempt to introduce Italian art ended in virtual failure.^ Obscure Italians like the "Sergeant painter" Antonio Toto remained in England,^ but the real influence to which native art responded passed through the Low Countries. This may have been due to the fact that so many of the early English painters like Streetes, were Dutch or Flem- ings, but also because medieval realism in art which sur- vived in England incompletely fused with the new spirit, was nearer to the standard of the Netherlands. Art was largely a craft and even Holbein's career had begun by painting shopkeepers' signs. Its practical utility came through portraiture, which satisfied the aesthetic de- mands of the wealthy. The new self-consciousness con- tributed to this result. Man for the first time cherished a wish to preserve his likeness. When Sir Thomas Chal- 271 272 TUDOR IDEALS oner translated the "Prize of Folly," his description of its merits dwelt on the fact that the reader would herein "see his own image more lively described than in any painted table. " The desire for beauty was never so stirring a passion in England as in Italy. It was all the more remarkable for Henry VIII, almost without stimulus or atmosphere about him save the wish to rival King Francis, to have indulged his native taste to such advantage. In this he showed himself to be a true prince of the Renaissance, more Latin than English, who called on the arts to set a richer framework for his majesty. Wolsey may have initiated his sovereign toward such appreciation, for the great Cardinal was full of the desire for magnificence, and possessed a real love of beauty and a collector's taste which made him purchase paintings in the Low Countries. His fondness for tapestries was notorious. To reach his audience chamber, wrote the Venetian Ambassador Gius- tiniani, one had to traverse eight rooms all hung with arras changed weekly. Outside the court a survival of medieval luxury still " existed in England. There were many artistic treasures left in the monasteries, and Skelton describes these hung in tapestry representing "Dame Diana naked How lusty Venus quaked And how Cupid shaked His dart and bent his bow." ^ A profusion of plate existed in the houses of merchants and innkeepers, where it astonished foreign travellers un- accustomed to such display. It was more prized, however, for its intrinsic than for its artistic value. The medieval traditions of craftsmanship in England had largely disap- peared or degenerated. In a land still in many respects crude, there was slight reason to expect any deep aesthetic craving seeking sensuous expression. The attempts of THE DESIRE FOR BEAUTY 273 exalted patronage to introduce this artificially remained stillborn. The builders' art alone survived as a practical necessity, and the diffusion of riches discovered in archi- tecture, as in portraiture, its first aesthetic satisfactions. The feeling that external adornment marked a certain station in life was increasing, and the diffusion of wealth unconsciously did what the king's example could not. The wish grew for luxurious comfort hitherto unknown. Continental example reinforced this. Sir Thomas Elyot, fresh from diplomatic missions abroad, urged men of rank to hang their houses with tapestry and to possess painted tables, images and engraved plate.^ In Italy, France and the Low .Countries he had seen the arts en- tering increasingly into cultivated life. Doubtless in- fluenced by Castiglione's example he was the first in England who sought to include art in a gentleman's education and have painting and sculpture taught to whoever showed inclination therefor.^ The arts in his ideal of education were regarded no longer as crafts unworthy of a gentleman's attention but as containing an inherent nobility. Far from degrading whoever practiced them, Elyot recalled the fact that Roman Emperors like Titus and Hadrian were artists. The Sixteenth Century in England was too freshly out of the Middle Ages not to have inherited many of its prej- udices which the wave of the Renaissance had only parti- ally submerged. Among these was the broad abyss which separated artists from a gentleman's consideration. Long medieval isolation had kept them on an inferior plane as .craftsmen. The Renaissance idea which brought out the universal elements of life, lifted the arts out of what had become a lowering of their general status. Such ideas were imperfectly accepted by many whose vision remaining narrowed by the past refused to admit the value of new elements. It was owing to this reaction that the revelation of the Renaissance remained incom- plete. It could never rid life of prejudice born in another 274 TUDOR IDEALS age. In a similar field, Puttenham blamed those gentlemen poets to whom the publicity of print seemed a vulgari- zation "as if it were a discredit for a gentleman to seem learned and to show himself amorous of any good art." Prejudices possess a tough life and after the real Renais- sance was over, others expressed the conviction that paint- ing could no longer be accounted "fit for a gentleman."^ Elyot's own portrait had been painted by Holbein, but his understanding of art hardly went beyond an ad- miration for ancient sculpture. The classical writers awakened this interest from its literary side where it was often confined to the repetition of stale anecdotes. Oddly enough in one of the greatest ages of art, the only inter- est taken by many was apparently restricted to hack- neyed tales about Greek sculptors. Esthetic enjoyment was still beyond the ken of even the most cultivated Eng- lishmen whose feeling toward art was purely intellectual, and derived from the accepted standards of a culture which they freely recognized as superior to their own. Wide interest was taken only in classical sculpture, es- pecially by those who had been to Italy and felt the "ap- preciation there evoked by the records of antiquity."^ Such passing references as may be found to the great Ital- ians of that time, were generally due to a bland accept- ance of the esteem in which they were held by their own countrymen. Michelangelo's personal greatness was im- pressed on every traveller, but the beauty of Italian art remained foreign to the English temperament. One of the few exceptions to this was Sir Thomas Wyatt whose de- scription of a marble statue of David is, almost certainly, a reminiscence of the one by Michelangelo, which he must have seen when passing through Florence on his way to Rome. "David seemed in the place A marble image of singular reverence Carved in the rock with eyes and hand on high Made as by craft to plain, to sob, to sigh." ^ THE DESIRE FOR BEAUTY 275 In his account of the massacre by the Spaniards at the sack of Antwerp, George Gascoigne wrote that "a man might behold as many shapes and forms of men's mo- tion at time of death as even Michelangelo did portray in his Tables of Doomsday." ^ Travellers like Fynes Moryson praised the Sixtine Chapel and the skill of the Italians in the arts.^" Their genius was still far removed from normal English comprehension, and such lip worship is less expressive of native opinion than of accepted com- monplaces imbibed by travel and convention. When Shake- speare described a marvellous statue by the painter Giulio Romano,^^ he was merely repeating the hackneyed opin- ion which praised Italian art indiscriminately without dis- tinguishing painters from sculptors. The English mind accepted without question this superiority, though attach- ing slight importance to a side of life it could neither grasp nor emulate. The aesthetic impulse expressed by the graphic arts had hardly been awakened. Proof of this can be seen in Richard Haydocke drawing a parallel between English painters and Italian, and comparing Nicholas Hil- liard to Raphael. ^^ Francis Meres, with the ignorance of his insularism, compared John Bettes and Christopher Switser to Pheidias and Praxiteles. ^^ The English aesthetic sense, still too immature to appre- ciate more than the direct presentation of realism, re- mained unable to discriminate beyond. Idealism fired its poets but left its painters cold and their conception humble. Oddly enough, the most interesting fragment of contemporary criticism of what art could mean, came from a theologian and popular preacher. In his " Sermon before the King," Latimer remarked that "Painters paint death like a man without a skin and a body having noth- ing but bones. And hell they paint it horrible flames of burning fire; they bungle somewhat at it, they come nothing near it. But this is no true painting; no painter could paint hell unless he could paint the torment and con- demnation both of body and soul. "^^ His idea is strangely 276 TUDOR IDEALS akin to the futurist wish to depict the inner state of the mind. The diffusion of wealth and culture gradually aroused a taste for art. An enlightened patronage existed long before native painters attained even mediocrity. Trav- ellers from Italy and France brought back the collector's taste. Nicholas Hovel, a dealer in paintings and antiques, offered Lord Burghley for the queen, a collection which had taken him twenty-five years to form and which in- cluded the works of French, Italian and German paint- ers. ^^ Interest in art was more widely diffused, though not until the Stuarts did it become general among the upper classes, when writers like Peacham " made ap- peal to this new taste. Before him Richard Haydocke spoke of this interest among the nobility and gentry "as may appear by their galleries carefully furnished with the excellent monuments of sundry famous ancient painters both Italian and German." ^^ And already he could la- ment the neglect in which the descendants of collectors had allowed their treasures to fall. VII. PHILOSOPHICAL IDEAS IN LIFE The surprising feature of Renaissance philosophy before Bacon is its absence of originaHty. It aimed to be prac- tical and concerned itself more with the conduct of life than with abstract speculation. The philosopher was said to be one who could realize "the life of men at all times, in all places, in all passions and generally in all af- fairs." The Renaissance conception of the meaning of philosophy was that of moral conduct in action. A wish for action more than for contemplation ran through the age. This left its reflective sides without much body and never quite able to shake off scholastic origins, which even out of favour, kept their grip on the mind. The only alternative for these lay in antiq- uity. Philosophical speculation, such as it was, looked to classical example to replace theology. When in " Measure for Measure " the Duke disguised as a friar, reasons with Claudio condemned to death, on the futility of life, his argument is no longer religious but Stoic. How far this represents Shakespeare's own views, is of slight impor- tance before the fact that the thoughts of the age were now based on a secular ideal which unconsciously traced its intellectual pedigree to antiquity. Its full revelation entered English life only when this became unnoticeable by its familiarity. Philosophical reflections were derived mainly from the direct inspiration of classical sources. The new belief of the Renaissance was that of man in himself, and his own unbounded capacity which he could extend through knowledge. Christianity could be judiciously blended with the higher paganism, and many a thinker of that age, without difficulty reconciled Nazareth with Athens. 277 278 TUDOR IDEALS The exceptional favour then enjoyed by the Neo-PIaton- ists was due to nothing else. The birth of modern philosophy was no native growth but a graft on a very ancient stock. Classical example shaped the world of thought. To the extent it made men imitative, it left philosophy fragmentary and partial, in- stead of constructive. The new seeds had been scattered far and wide, sown almost without plan or order and another age had to come before these could ripen. The Renaissance, in revolt against the rigid scholastic struc- ture, collected its material haphazardly and uncritically for the future to digest. It piled up its wealth without fixing beforehand the avenues of access to its riches. Something more was needed before these could be laid out. A tradition had to be built before more delicate perceptions could begin this task. The consciousness of man expressed by means of direct philosophical abstractions, represented a trend of thought still alien to the English mind of the Sixteenth Century. The complete break with the Middle Ages had not yet taken place. Under Henry VIII, hardly any traces can be found of intellectual speculation. For one thing, man was not sufficiently articulate to express his subtler thoughts in terms of theory. Intellectual abstractions went mainly into theology and partly into statecraft. An early expression of philosophical ideas in England is to be found in Spenser, who like Italian thinkers of the early Renaissance, reconciled Christianity with Platon- ism and found in celestial beauty a religious ideal. His hymns were inspired by the study of Plato and the feeling of divinity. Though there is nothing original in his ideas, he phrased Platonism with the poet's art. All that is good is beautiful and fair, and everything save the con- templation of heavenly beauty is naught. "All other sights but feigned shadows be." It is a poor test for poetry to seek in it any deep philo- PHILOSOPHICAL IDEAS IN LIFE 279 sophical truth. Yet the ideas underlying " The Tempest " offer a symbol of the Renaissance. Brute force becomes subjected to the intellect. Life no longer as medieval theology had seen it, came to be regarded for the first time as a struggle whose justification was found in the victory of mind over matter and in the enlarged horizon before man. Even the achievements of navigators entered into the realm of philosophy with the discovery of the Bermudas. The philosophical ideas of a Prospero, or of a Hamlet, express a far dreamier and less practical side of the Eliza- bethan age than is commonly supposed to be its charac- teristic. It is unfair to any time or nation, to restrict its traits solely within certain accepted grooves and exclude everything else as unrepresentative. Shake- speare better than anyone, proves the absurdity of such reasoning by showing how the wealth of an age springs from diversity. To take any other view is wilfully to re- strict one's vision. His own dream of the ideal state as set forth in the "Tempest" is hardly original, except in the sense that ideas acquire originality by differing from their prototype. The communism of Gonzalo, like that of More's Utopians, was mainly a vague aspiration toward justice with little belief in its practical reality. In war-disturbed Ireland surrounded by rebels, a church- man, a soldier, an apothecary, and some civil servants could meet and discuss those questions which have con- cerned philosophers in every age and talk of virtue, honour and the soul as shaping the life of man.^ Their conversations form the subject of one of the earliest philosophical books in English written by Spenser's friend Lodovyck Bryskett, but which enjoyed slight popularity. The tendency of the British mind was far more positive and practical than abstract. Its real greatness came out in the scientific achievement of a Harvey, a Gilbert, and a Napier. Pure philosophy was, foreign to the British nature. Intellectual speculation is more often the product of 28o TUDOR IDEALS a nation In repose. A period of keen advancement, of buoyant spirits, and rapid change, is careless of values whose approach lies through theory. Especially in Eng- land the foundations of philosophical reasoning were still non-existent except in an antiquated form. Works like Du Vair's treatise on stoical philosophy were translated ^ and several of Giordano Bruno's books were printed in London. The dialogues he dedicated to Sidney, and his mention of men like Fulke Greville and Sir Toby Matthew, show the existence of a small circle interested in philo- sophical speculation who lived outside academic portals. Such appeal was made only to a select few. The non-speculative mind of the Englishman was con- tent to take his philosophy at second hand and especially from Aristotle, whose " Ethics " were translated from the Italian, and whose " Politics " from the French. There was no attempt made to construct an original system. Even thinkers like More were chiefly interested in social prob- lems. Philosophy meant mainly disquisitions on specu- lative topics in which Platonic ideas were usually intro- duced.^ Bryskett admitted this absence of sympathy and contrasted the inferiority of England to Italy in this re- spect. The man of cultivation needed no philosophical sys- tem to express his idea of conduct. The search for this was nothing new for medieval contemplation also had sought to find such a standard. The novelty of the Re- naissance lay in secularizing this. Even Cardinal Allen's Secretary, Roger Bayne, in his " Praise of Solitariness," the scene of which takes place in Venice, discusses the eternal question of the merits of the active and the con- templative life, and which the wise man should seek, the answer being that he should know how to apply himself to both. When duty summoned he must be ready to leave solitude to sacrifice his life for his country. Others like Sir Richard Barckley and Sir William Cornwallis revived the same timeworn themes. Philosophical speculation hardly PHILOSOPHICAL IDEAS IN LIFE 281 went beyond this. It was left for a Pole, Grimaldus Gos- licius, whose work was translated into EngHsh, best to express this ideaL Affirming that the three kinds of hves were of action, contemplation and pleasure, he added: "Whoso therefore desireth to live virtuously and happily must participate both of the civil and philosophical lives which are action and contemplation." Poets sung the contemplative ideal. The instability of mortal things had always been a favourite subject for medieval expression. The charm of the placid, found itself praised in an age of action. Sir Edward Dyer's self-complacent lines "My mind to me a kingdom is" breathes the Horatian spirit in its goal of repose. A point of View which was later to evolve the practical basis for an intellectual foundation of life was then in the moulding. The new conception of modernity was already shaping men's thoughts. Gabriel Harvey with nothing of the pedant, could write to Spenser that the most im- portant thing in life was to live, and the ideal of a con- templative existence which regarded as unlawful all bodily and sensual pleasures was a stale and bookish opinion. The basis of future philosophical speculation was being laid by science. The intellectual curiosity of the Re- naissance branched out toward an interest in natural his- tory far beyond that of the medieval bestiary. Hakluyt who had frequent occasion to mention strange plants and animals alludes to the collections of natural history formed with great effort by his friends Richard Garthe and William Cope.^ Medicine too profited by this new interest. Where David Lyndsay could make the king's physician and surgeon appear ridiculous by causing them to joust by royal command, the ignorance of the medical profession for the first time impressed men as a serious deficiency. Stubbes demanded that all doctors be grad- uates of Universities and well paid by the State to attend the poor, in order to remedy the gross scandal which 282 TUDOR IDEALS allowed any ignorant person to assume the title and habit of a physician.^ A new devotion made Thomas Lodge, doctor as well as poet, with a fine sense of professional duty which then was rare, remain at his post to attend the poor during the plague in London. First in England, Bacon realized the possibilities of science. Aloof and isolated in his ideas with not even the knowledge of his countrymen's scientific discoveries, he was the true child of the Renaissance even to the circum- stances of his death brought on by a chill caught in obser- ving the effect of snow in preserving the body of a hen. Without prejudice or reverence he demolished the be- lief in the irrational. His creed was the sovereignty of man through science built on experience. "Printing" a gross achievement, artillery and the needle. What a change have these three words made in the world. Yet they had been stumbled on by chance. In knowledge, he wrote, lay the future ot mankind "wherein many things are reserved which kings with their treasure cannot buy nor with their force command." The wish contained in the "New Atlantis" for centralized bureaus to collect and record scientific data and undertake experiments, foreshadows the ideas of our own age. Bacon in the same sense as Shakespeare ceases to be typical. It is the penalty of genius that it stands alone and its height measures its isolation. Those less scien- tific offer safer tests — Spenser, for instance, who is never thought of as a man of science, was modern in his anthro- pological speculations. After dismissing the Irish claim to Spanish descent, which he regards as emanating from vanity owing to the prestige of Spain, he says in words which could be written to day: "There is no nation now in Christendom nor much fur- ther, but is mingled and compounded with others." This he regards as providential as it makes all people united by blood.^ Though he wanders into fantasy when trying to fasten a Scythian origin on the Irish his method of rea- PHILOSOPHICAL IDEAS IN LIFE 283 soning is one of the first evidences of a study of primitive culture.® Alongside of a new scientific interest one stands con- fronted by the tragic effects of ignorance exercising a more powerful sway than before. Superstition can never be segregated within an age of ignorance. All too easily the contrary may be proved and examples culled from every direction and time. Yet in any larger outlook where val- ues are expanded and exceptions disregarded, the effects of superstition tend to fall back into dark periods. Among the triumphs of the Renaissance was that of having shat- tered many of the most glaring abuses which attached themselves to the veneration of images and shrines. Because of political purposes the grossest medieval su- perstitions which clung to the wonder-working powers of relics were attacked and largely destroyed. But the spirit of superstition was not so easily shaken. Wolsey firmly believed in omens and interpreted insignificant acts in their light.^ The Nun of Kent, Elizabeth Barton, was believed by him as by Warham and More, to have been divinely inspired when from her cell at Canterbury she gave heavenly orders to the Pope himself. Super- stition became dangerous in its political reactions and the Nun's prophecies were made use of by those who op- posed the king's divorce. Belief in the supernatural can hardly be isolated from other factors, and much that is otherwise unexplicable in the past, comes from the recol- lection of immediate interest being effaced, leaving only the grosser elements to wonder at. After all allowances have been made, there still remained a vast amount of credulity. ^° Reformers who were ready to attack wonder-working relics were themselves quite as prone to believe in witch- craft. The persecution of the unfortunates accused of sorcery tells a tragic story. The belief was found al- most everywhere. John Penry speaks of the "swarms of soothsayers and enchanters" in Wales who professed 284 TUDOR IDEALS to walk at night with the fairies. ^^ The English soldiers were convinced that the Irish were possessed of the power of witchcraft "and this belief doth much daunt our sol- diers when they come to deal with the Irishry.^^ When King James himself was a believer in witches and boasted that the devil saw in him his greatest enemy, it is not sur- prising that the masses should have been superstitious. Other forms less tragic in result could be seen in the numerous broadsides relating to monstrous children born which were invariably regarded in the light of warnings to England. In Italy a Leonardo da Vinci showed his contempt for alchemists and necromancers. But no such thing as uni- formity of opinion can be found unless it is that the ma- jority remained credulous. The existence of superstition was only one of those irrational elements which serve as correctives to more buoyant hopes in the wish to reform humanity. The tragic effects due to the belief in sorcery were, oddly enough, coincident with the Renaissance but reached a terrible climax in the Seventeenth Century. The worst excesses against witches were committed during the Com- monwealth, as the result of Puritanical teaching in caus- ing men everywhere to see Satanic influence. Yet the feeling of rationalism existed as well. Reginald Scott published in 1584, his remarkable "Discovery of Witch- craft," where he exposed the gross fallacy of the super- stition. Shakespeare, with probable personal indifference, makes Lafeu say in "Alls Well that Ends Well: " "We have our philosophical persons to make modern and familiar things supernatural and causeless." (II, III, I-3-) The awakened consciousness of man and the new op- portunities for diffusion, caused even the worst superstition to obtain an influence which could hardly have been ex- pressed in a grosser age. The half enlightenment which was widespread proved prejudicial to the growth of the PHILOSOPHICAL IDEAS IN LIFE 285 real spirit of the Renaissance. A nation's life is too varied to be centred within any exclusive direction. The awak- ening stimulated the growing consciousness of man to- ward prejudice quite as much as toward enlightenment. The wide prevalence of superstition and its terrible effects in the burning of witches, were the results of popular pres- sure and not of official direction. It needed the incre- dulity of the Restoration to shatter a belief which rested on such broad foundation. VIII. ENGLAND AND THE SEA The accident of Columbus's discovery no more detracts from its greatness than does the fact that it was less the Genoese sailor-adventurer who discovered the New World than his era. Certainly the same discovery made even a century earlier, would have hardly precipitated the re- sult as was proved by the Northmen. It required an age full of life and of bursting energy like the Renaissance to realize the vast importance of the adventure. In this sense, the discovery of the New World is as much a tri- umph of the Renaissance as is the discovery of Antiquity. The scholar in his study and the mariner on his deck were working toward a common goal, and both were pushing back the bounds which so long had hemmed in man- kind. For the first time since the decay of Rome, action and thought were united to bring about one vast result. Oddly enough, England lagged behind in this pursuit. By a curious circumstance, her backwardness with respect to the other countries of western Europe was nowhere more evident than in allowing these to cull the first fruits of their enterprise. So late as 1502, Henry VII could write to the Pope that English mariners were unaccustomed to sail beyond Pisa.^ So late as 1529, David Lyndsay, one of the most cultivated men of his day, could write — **The earth tripartite was In three; In Africa, Europe and Asle." ^ A voyage undertaken by Captain Bodenham to Chios in 1 55 1, seemed of sufficient importance to warrant being included in Hakluyt's chronicle. The first English essays in navigation were strangely timid. Later de la Popeliniere expressed surprise that the English in spite of' their love 286 ENGLAND AND THE SEA 287 of enterprise and their valour, should have failed to make themselves felt in an element which ought to be more natural to them than to other nations.^ Historians are prone to seek ancient pedigrees for newer births, in order to elevate these into primitive national traits. English history has favoured the belief that love of the sea has always been a deep-rooted in- stinct in the British race. The slightest familiarity with life in the Sixteenth Century convinces one that until the end of Elizabeth's reign English backwardness lagged behind every other country in western Europe, and was so great as to astonish foreign observers. Maritime enterprise could only develop when assisted by centralized resources such as the feudal structure of society never possessed. Hence the reason why the period of discovery in navigation coincided with the Renaissance, was not merely fortuitous, but rather the corollary of poli- tical evolution. Ideas born in Italy came to harvest in lands with better organized national resources. This, in turn, only became possible after such countries had achieved their national unity. Until this was accom- plished in Spain, France and England, it had been hope- less to expect states to divert their energy from more urgent needs toward distant and precarious enterprises. A coincidence of causes then shaped the conditions of discovery which allowed a Columbus, a Verazzano and a Cabot, to find their opportunity in lands other than their own. England was the last country to receive this impulse, which came as a novelty from abroad almost at the same time as the new learning, and as its complement in action. While circumstance, interest and ambition, later devel- oped aptitude for the sea among Englishmen, till with rapid forgetfulness of its true origin, they came to regard it as an inherited national trait, the first lesson came from Italy, the first example from Spain, and the first venture began with the consolidation of the Tudor state. 288 TUDOR IDEALS Except for a few Bristol merchants with eyes fixed on the hope of gain, the crown was the only element in the nation with its survey beyond the seas discerning with wider vision the novel elements entering into the life of the age. The service it rendered in providing a threshold for new ideas in national life, cannot be overestimated. At a time of disentegration of old forces and swift evolution of new ones, the crown by its openness to other influences and its freedom from insular prejudices, civilized England at the same time as it saved it from the barbarism of a long period of anarchy. Henry VII, with his keen eye to the future, had fore- seen the possibilities of discovery and in spite of his prover- bial avarice proved almost generous in donations to ex- plorers. A contemporary Venetian was even amused by the honours paid John Cabot who dressed in silks, was de- scribed as enlisting as many English as he liked, with Ital- ian rogues besides. Yet this honour was richly deserved, for long afterward the mariners of Elizabeth traced to him the pedigree of their sea-faring adventures. Henry VII's caution had restrained him from unduly backing oversea enterprise. His son was the first to realize that the future of England lay on the waters, and his aim to create a navy ranks among the greatest achievements of his reign. With the entrance of England into continental politics, came the realization of her insular situation of which previously she had hardly been aware. Along with the growth of a new merchant class whose profit came from oversea trade, there arose an interest in maritime enterprise. Tudor legisla- tion, always direct and wishing to develop a race of sea- men, encouraged the fisheries by decreeing compulsory abstinence from meat on two days in the week. The growing consciousness of England as an insular and maritime power, was reinforced by practical consid- erations of trade and interest. Half instinctively, half as the result of success achieved, ideas shaped themselves to form traditions which have since become the fibre of ENGLAND AND THE SEA 289 the race till Englishmen knew that their real protection was the sea.^ The extension taken by English sea power was, however, so gradual that it remained for long almost unnoticed on the Continent. Nowhere more than in the discovery of the world, can one discern the British trait of slowness in receiving ideas and of tenacity in working them out. But the reason why the English discovery lagged behind in an age of discovery is not hard to find. With few exceptions, and until a late date, their navigators were merchants like Robert Tonson and Jasper Campion, or seamen with the love of buccaneering adventure. Their virtues were manly but homely. They carried out their enterprise in a spirit of adventurous gain, not of conquest or of proselytism. They looked for trade, not gold mines. Less directly favoured by the State than Spanish or Portuguese, English navigators underwent their own evo- lution. Commerce continued as before to be their justi- fication and gradually attracted the best blood in the land. Yet the interest in oversea enterprise came to be something more than that of money making. It was owing to Mary's Spanish marriage that Eng- lishmen were allowed to go to New Spain. To Philip's desire to ingratiate himself with his English subjects was doubtless due the authorization granted Robert Tonson to travel in Mexico. The accounts brought back of fabu- lous wealth fired the English imagination in a way which was later to turn so disastrously against the Spaniards. The first vision of England as a great maritime power was under Elizabeth. Camden remarked that when in the early days of her reign Shan O'Neill came out of Ireland to perform his submission at court attended by a bodyguard of axe-bearing "gallow glasses," bareheaded and longhaired, with yellow tunics and shaggy mantles, people gazed at them with no less wonder " than nowadays they do them of China and America. "^ During the years of Elizabeth's long reign the English mind learned to travel. 290 TUDOR IDEALS The queen encouraged the seafaring tendencies of the nation, and freely gave letters for English merchants to Eastern potentates, in Abyssinia, Persia, China and Japan. She fostered English trade and appointed consuls at Aleppo, Babylon, and Basra. The consciousness that the discoveries of the age made it utterly unlike the past then impressed itself on every Englishman. Spenser wrote "Daily now through hardy enterprise Many great regions are discovered Which to late age were never mentioned." (Prol to F. Q., II, Prol 2.) and bade his countrymen conquer the lands around the Amazon and the Orinoco.^ Shakespeare wrote of those who sent their sons "to discover islands far away"' and Churchyard extolled in bad verse the voyages of Eng- lish seamen. ^ Save in matters of religion or of national defence, it is hard to discern any broad popular movement in the Six- teenth Century. The greatness of English navigation was due to the fact that it became popular after the idea was understood, and while receiving encouragement from the government was also favored by the people. In 1566 the articles of incorporation of the Merchant Adventurers were drawn up for the discovery of "lands, territories, isles, dominions and Seignories unknown. " ^ The support for such enterprise rested on popular roots. To find the North East passage a company of £6,000 was first created, and shares were taken of £25 each with the proceeds of which three ships were bought. ^° Sir Francis Walsingham who died a poor man subscribed for this along with several noblemen and London merchants.^^ Queen Elizabeth and some of the leading courtiers like Lord Pembroke took shares in Hawkins* buccaneering expeditions which were chiefly intended to capture and sell slaves, though Bur- leigh to his credit would have nothing to do with this. ENGLAND AND THE SEA 291 The North East passage mostly excited the English- men's imagination. Sir Humphrey Gilbert could advocate it as " the only way for our princes to possess the wealth of all the East. " The spirit of adventure had been let loose and to garrison these new discovered posts many volun- teers came forward. The list of merchant adventurers who assisted Drake in his expedition against the Span- iard in 1587 shows where his main support came from. His partners were grocers, mercers, and haberdashers. All save Drake himself were tradespeople.^^ English leadership on sea became individualized in much the same way it had been on land. The discipline of the nation did not long survive the great test of the Armada, and with the passing of the national danger, the feeling of personality reasserted itself and something akin to the enterprises of a feudal baronage in France was now repeated in the adventures of English mariners. Such exploits served as a corrective to the stabilizing conserva- tive tendencies of the new propertied classes in England. The greatness of England was due, more than is commonly suspected, to the rough balance preserved between the revived class conservatism nursing tradition at home, and daring individualism finding its opportunity overseas. The search for wealth, the desire for adventure, patriot- ism, hatred of Spain, and a restless energy, all combined to bring about the assertion of this new spirit. It is easy to single out any one of these motives as dominating. Those who went in quest of seafaring adventure were swayed by one or all. Sidney's eagerness to embark for a voyage of discovery could not have been due solely to the pursuit of gold. A young country squire like Philip Gawdy wrote to his brother from aboard the Revenge shortly be- fore its last fight, that he liked the sea and the sea life and its company. The spirit of adventure had passed into the nation's blood, no longer confined to a few but stream- ing through every class. The sea was soon to find its intellectual defence. When 292 TUDOR IDEALS Essex in a letter ^^ said to have been written by Bacon, ad- dressed the Council, on embarking for the expedition against Cadiz, in June, 1596, the argument he brought forward was that the queen would thereby become "Mis- tress of the Sea which is the greatness that the Queen of an island should most aspire unto. " England, he argued, was a small state not extraordinarily rich and defended only by itself. Its interest was to use the sea in order to strike down its enemies. The same idea of sea power is expressed by Bacon. Alluding to the vast growth of navigation, he says of England that she has become "the lady of the sea" and that "the commandment of the sea is an abridgment or a quintessence of an universal monarchy. "^^ When Drake, "noble pirate" though he was,^^ on his first sight of the Pacific prayed God "to give him life and leave to sail an English ship upon that sea" he showed a spirit far higher than the desire for loot, and his prayer is compar- able to the dying Petrarch clasping to his bosom a manu- script of Homer he could not read. British superiority was only then beginning to be recognized and the Dutchman, Van Linschoten, who had been in the Portuguese service, could write "They are victorious stout and valiant; and all their enter- prises do take so good effect that they are thereby become lords and masters of the sea." Rough sailors and merchants of elementary education discovered the world, but it will always be the greatness of a clergyman like Hakluyt to have been the first to real- ize where lay the destinies of England and the direction in which it was desirable to extend her interests. When in 1580 Arthur Pet and Charles Jackman were sent to find the North East passage, Hakluyt drew up directions for them to note all the characteristics of the lands they saw and of the savages encountered, and observe everything. They were to take with them specimens of English com- modities with a view to trade, and large maps of England ENGLAND AND THE SEA 293 and London, "to make show of your city and let the river be drawn full of ships of all sorts to make the more show of your great trade. "^^ Lest there be objection to traf- ficking with unbelievers he cited the example of King Solomon in antiquity and in recent times of French, Gen- oese, and Venetians, in their intercourse with the Grand Signior. Reading the accounts of voyages one is impressed by the numerous adventures of undistinguished people who came from the humbler walks of life. One Richard Has- leton, for instance, embarking on an English merchantman bound for Patras is captured by Turkish corsairs and taken to Algiers. Made to work as a galley slave for four years, he is shipwrecked on Spanish soil where he finds himself denounced as an English heretic by one of his companions and sent to the prison of the Inquisition at Majorca. He spits in the face of the inquisitor and is punished by solitary confinement in an underground cell. A year later he effects his escape after adventures worthy of a Casanova. He is recaptured and tortured on the rack. Once more he escapes, and after fresh adventures finds a small l?oat in which he sails to the Barbary Coast. There he is taken by the Moors, and the same attempt as had been made by the Inquisition to induce him to forsake his Protestant faith is now made for him to turn Moslem. He seeks to escape, is recaptured, tries again more suc- cessfully and at last, after incredible dangers, is freed by the assistance of the great London merchant Richard Staper.^^ It is difficult to single out adventures where so many related by Hakluyt still preserve their interest. Thus a certain Miles Phillips took a minor part in Hawkins' ill- starred expedition in 1568. After firing a negro town on the Guinea Coast and kidnapping 500 negroes, they sailed with these to the Spanish Main. At San Juan de Ulloa, the Spanish fleet with the new Viceroy on board, came upon them unexpectedly. Hawkins who feared the 294 TUDOR IDEALS queen's displeasure did not wish to fight and made an arrangement with the Spaniards which the latter treacher- ously violated, destroying the greater part of the English fleet. So much is history. Phillip's adventures begin shortly afterward. Hawkins, who had been left with only one vessel, was obliged by shortage of water and food to land some of his crew on the coast of Mexico. Phillips was among these and after many narrow escapes from drowning and hunger, being almost killed by the Indians, reached Tam- pico in an exhausted condition, where he and his com- panions were held as prisoners by the Spaniards. The governor threatens to hang them all but sends them instead to the City of Mexico, to be distributed as slaves. There he meets with fresh dangers at the hands of the Inquisition. In spite of the orthodox answers which he gave with remarkable presence of mind, they scent heresy in an Englishman and condemn him to serve in a monas- tery, wearing the San Benito, while some of his less fortu- nate companions were burned at the stake. At the Mon- astery he is appointed an overseer of the Indian workmen who were building a church and learns their language per- fectly, which was later to be of great use to him. Others of his companions abandoning all hope of return, entered into the service of the Inquisition and married negro women or mestizos, but Phillips never gave up the idea of liberty though he had been warned by the Inquisi- tion that if he tried to escape he would be burned as a relapsed heretic. He described how many of the Span- iards, even among the friars, loathed the Inquisition but stood in awe of it. To divert suspicion he bound himself as an apprentice to a silk weaver. Learning of Drake sailing up the Pacific he accompanies a Spanish expedition against him, but arrives too late, Drake having already gone. He then plans to join the Spanish fleet at San Juan de Ulloa, passing himself off as a soldier. At Vera Cruz he is arrested by mistake but recognized when brought ENGLAND AND THE SEA 295 before the judge, is ordered to be sent back to Mexico City. On the way there he escapes by fihng off his chains, and with the help of friendly Indians wanders across the mountains to Central America. There he finds a Spanish ship on which he succeeds in embarking, but is again rec- ognized and discovers that the Captain intends deliver- ing him to the Inquisition at Seville. Pretending to sus- pect nothing, as soon as he arrives he makes his escape, and hides for three months. After that he enlists as a sol- dier to go to Majorca where at last he finds an English vessel and returns after an absence of fifteen years. There are the adventures of Thomas Cavendish, a gentleman by birth, who having squandered his fortune turns pirate and with three ships of which the largest was of 140 tons and the smallest of 40, with a total crew of 125, started in 1596 to sail around the globe plundering the Spaniards wherever he met them and burning their set- tlements along the Pacific. For the most part included in Hakluyt, are tales of sea- men and merchants, who tempted by the hope of gain and adventure, sailed to distant parts where though the Span- iards and Portuguese had preceded them, they brought a keener energy and one less crippled by official interfer- ence. Returning to England, they came back with reports of the riches to be won in distant regions. Narratives of this kind which occurred to men without other distinction, raised England from its past insularity to a point where it felt in touch with the rest of the world. When the dramatists placed the universe under contribu- tion a new generation of seamen had sailed in every ocean. The early narration of voyages will hardly stand com- parison with similar Italian accounts, many of which were then translated into English. ^^ Yet Giles Fletcher's "Rus- sian Commonwealth," modelled, perhaps, on the rela- tions of Venetian ambassadors, contains a remarkably interesting description of Russian government, institutions and customs, which revolted Fletcher. The book was 296 TUDOR IDEALS suppressed at the instigation of the Company of Mer- chants trading with Muscovy, who feared its effects on their trade. A great soHcitude for this was already no- ticeable, and made a friendly observer like Languet dread lest England be led astray by the thirst for gold. A poet like Richard Barnfield in the preface to a not very inspired poem entitled "Lady Pecunia or the Praise of Money," remarks that "the bravest voyages in the world have been made for gold; for it men have ventured by sea to the furthest parts of the earth." The books on dis- covery were calculated to influence the natural love of adventure and the thirst for gain. English courage was exalted above that of other nations and the deficiencies in navigation which had hitherto caused their backward- ness, were corrected. ^^ The feeling of energy which we couple with the Eliz- abethan age arises from the exploits of its mariners. England's giant progress came through dissociating her- self from the tangle of Continental politics and venturing into distant enterprise where all the nation could find its share. Men looked back on the past with the conscious- ness of the strides taken. Laurence Kenys, Raleigh's pilot companion, wrote that it was natural for England in the days of Henry VII to look with suspicion on the tale of an adventurer like Columbus. But " the pleasure of that incredulity lieth even now heavy on our shoulders." The advance taken by Spaniards and Portuguese was the handicap which spurred the English on to great deeds and made him write that the chief reward of virtue lay in action. The valiant enterprise of the age would seem fabulous to future generations.^" In 1598 after war weariness had been felt in France and England, the question of peace with Spain was considered. In spite of the difficulties of continuing an offensive war in the Low Countries, and the small results to be expected from attacking the coasts of Spain, advantage was seen in prolonging war in America. If an army of 10,000 men ENGLAND AND THE SEA 297 could be sent to colonize the Isthmus of Panama, not only would it stop all Spanish trade, but it would be welcome to the rest of Europe who wished for nothing more than " free traffic in America. "^^ The new British imperiaHsm with its view beyond the seas knew that this would mean the future prosperity of England. If the quest for gold had been its only desire, the age would never have contained such seeds of greatness. Ra- leigh seeking to retrieve his fallen fortunes in Guiana, went there with no sordid ideas and could write that it sorted ill with the offices of honour which he held "to run from cape to cape and from place to place" for pil- lage. Seeking arguments for colonizing Guiana he found them in the cruelty of the Spaniards toward the natives and his gentle feelings vented themselves in sympathy toward these. The desire for colonization was the new element to make for English greatness and rescue it from the sordid- ness of early piratical adventure. Sidney who had been most eager to accompany Drake and was only restrained by the queen's interdiction, had formed all his plans for an extended colonization in America when he left for his death at Zutphen. Among his reasons was the conviction that with the forthcoming union with Scotland, the na- tion would be too small for the population without the outlet of foreign enterprise.^^ He obtained a grant "to discover, search, find out, view and inhabit certain parts of America not yet discovered" and to acquire right over the smaller areas. Sir Walter Raleigh entertained the same idea of colonies as desirable places to settle the "needy people of our country," whose destitution would otherwise lead them to crime. ^^ Others like Sir George Peckham and Christopher Carhill believed that the col- onies offered the remedy for vagabondage. Captain John Smith in his expedition to Virginia, was both to preach and practice this new colonial ideal and could write in words of greater consequence than even he 298 TUDOR IDEALS suspected. "What so truly suits with honour and hon- esty as the discovery of things unknown, creating towns, peopHng countries, informing the ignorant, reforming things unjust, teaching virtue, and to gain our mother country a kingdom to attend her, to find employment for those that are idle because they know not what to do." ^^ And Drayton's noble ode "To the Virginian Voyage" praises the "Heroic minds worthy your country's name That honour still pursue Whilst loitering hinds Lurk here at home with shame." In a speech delivered in Parliament on the Virginia plantation. Bacon foretold that sometimes a grain of mus- tard seed grows into a great tree, and spoke of the colo- nies as very necessary outlets to a populous nation and profitable if well handled. ^^ Hakluyt could write that if anyone thought that an era of universal peace would close this movement he would be much deceived. If the period of wars should come to an end there would be far less employment, and he urged the gentry of England to- ward Virginia rather than to the pursuit of "soft un- profitable pleasures." ^^ The settlement of Virginia begins modern American history, but it is also the great offshoot of the spirit of the Renaissance. There is a deeper connexion than is at first apparent, between the art of Michelangelo, the fervour of Luther, the poetry of Shakespeare, and the colonizing ventures of Englishmen in Virginia. IX. NATIONALISM Nowhere were the new ideals of the Renaissance more welcome than at the court of Henry VIII. Hardly any- where were they slower in percolating through the mass than among the English people. No one welcomed for- eigners more heartily than the king, nowhere were they more hated by the population. The upper classes aped foreign fashions to the point of absurdity. An instinc- tive nationalism was the gathering cry of the London crowd. Nowhere were the people rougher, nowhere were gentlemen more courteous. In such contradictions lies the difficulty of framing judgments which seek to pierce beyond broad generalization. The Renaissance originated fewer new forces than is often supposed. Most of those which came to the sur- face in the Sixteenth Century had long been known, but they had previously been spasmodic and remained with- out continuity, instinctive and often inarticulate. The sense of nationality had at times acted vigorously dur- ing the Middle Ages. But it required the Sixteenth Cen- tury to formulate its theory and discover for it a literary and scholarly expression. The new nationalism, by an odd paradox, was born of foreign origin. In part this was intellectual. When Eng- lishmen realized that everywhere on the Continent men were exalting their origins and magnifying their achieve- ments, when they understood the contempt of Italians and Spaniards for all that was not of their own race, they felt the time had come to be proud of British deeds. But in part it was also instinctive and economic prompted by the emigration of Flemings and the prominence of Italians in the commercial life of London. Hatred against the foreigner had existed in England 299 300 TUDOR IDEALS since the earliest times. ^ So long as Britain was poor of ideas, and backward in industry, an unorganized nation- alism could not' prevent foreign elements from entering into the land and creating their own centres of diffusion. But the gradual extension of these aroused an opposi- tion which became more articulate through familiarity- till its evolution led to something very different from the brutish force at its origin. Nationalism tends to keep down the saturation point in a copimunity and prevents the alteration of its charac- ter by any sudden infusion of extraneous elements. The effect of its action is conservative and critical. It is usually most conspicuous at two periods in a country's development. The first when still a somewhat primitive community, it feels resentful of novelty and of whatever is not fashioned in its image. The second, is when the point of saturation in a highly developed community threatens to be exceeded and thus automatically pro- vokes reaction. In both instances it is a popular force having its roots deep in the masses. With broader perspective, the Tudor crown welcomed foreigners in whom it detected a source of potential wealth and an element which so long as it had not. identi- fied itself with the country, could never become a source of danger to the throne. Royal protection was necessary to these. In 15 17, Dr. Beale preached before a popular audience in London that each nation had received its boundaries from God, that the land they stood on was a perpetual inheritance to Englishmen, and the increase of poverty was due to aliens. He caused a riot against the foreigners which Wolsey had to put down with ruthless severity. Hall relates in his " Chronicle," that the multitude of strangers was so great in London that poor English work- men could scarcely get a living.^ He attributed the feel- ing against them to foreign contempt for the English. The reason is fanciful and the real ground was one which NATIONALISM 301 has existed in every age and in every land namely, the jealousy and hatred for any alien community whose in- fluence, though in the end beneficial to the nation, is out of proportion to their number, and whose singularity of language or of custom draws attention to their activity and success. The hatred was not peculiar to French, Italians or Flem- ings, it was against all foreigners. Their influx into England from the Low Countries, Northern Germany and France was far greater than is commonly suspected. In 1540 it was said that one-third the population of London consisted of alien artisans who were mainly employed in the working of metals, weaving and tapestry.^ Wyatt's Rebellion was nominally undertaken to prevent England "from overrunning by foreigners."* The spirit of nationalism descending into the mob pro- duced violence. In higher circles it was at the root of great changes and of jealous watchfulness. In England, as in Northern Europe, the success of the Reformation had rested on nationalist grounds. The Pope's inter- ference as a foreigner, and the intervention of Italian ecclesiastics, had always been resented. The desire for a national church rested on real foundations. With the tide of nationaHsm running high, Roman domination could not have survived. Even English Catholics felt that some change was necessary and Starkey makes Cardinal Pole declare that just as the common law should no longer be written in French but in the common tongue, so all public and private prayers ought to be said in the vulgar tongue.^ In his " Device of Succession," Edward VI gave among the reasons for passing over his sisters, Mary and Eliza- beth, the likelihood of their marrying strangers born out of the realm, who would incline to their own laws and prac- tices instead of those in England. Mary married the King of Spain. Her subjects who did not object to her burning Protestants were outspoken against the marriage. 302 TUDOR IDEALS solely on grounds of nationalism. It was stipulated that Philip as consort should enjoy no power in England with- out the Council's consent. His own bodyguard were to be kept on their ships and forbidden to land in order not to excite popular animosity against them. Later, in the negotiations connected with Elizabeth's proposed marriage to the Duke of Anjou, the same de- mands were made. The latter while enjoying the title of king, was to have no part in the affairs of the realm. He was to appoint no foreigner to any English office, alter nothing in the law, and preserve all customs. Neither the queen nor her children were to be removed from the realm without her consent or that of the peers, while all strong- holds were to be guarded by native Englishmen.^ Fear of the unpopularity of any foreign marriage was among the reasons which dissuaded the queen from contracting it. Yet one anonymous writer of that age would have welcomed a foreign prince for "if he live and marry in England, both himself and his children will become Eng- lish in a little space, while as a foreigner he would never dare to perpetrate the crimes which native princes had committed."^ A strong national spirit bordering on intolerance pre- vailed in England. Even Fynes Moryson, always ready to eulogize his countrymen, admits they had a spleen against strangers for growing rich among them.^ An Anti-Alien Bill was introduced in 1593, against which Sir Robert Cecil argued with great eloquence in favour of a more liberal spirit toward foreigners, maintaining that England's giving shelter to the oppressed had brought great honour to the realm.^ Others who shared these views pointed out that the prosperity of Antwerp and Venice came from the liberal facilities given to foreign traders. Few were able to rise high enough above preju- dice, to discover the slower processes of silent assimila- tion which made Englishmen out of the descendants of foreigners. NATIONALISM 303 British nationalism, which resented the suggestion of foreign influence in England, saw no contradiction in imposing itself on Ireland. The policy of English rule since the earliest days had been to Anglicize the land, by forbidding the use of the Irish language, the Irish dress and even the Irish practice of riding without saddles. At the Irish Parliament in 1498 it was enacted that English dress and arms should be worn and the upper classes should ride "in a saddle after the English fashion." The dwellers within the Pale were compelled to adopt English manners, and attempts were made to separate them from the uncivilized parts of Ireland.^" Heny VIII gave Eng- lish titles and names to Irish lords and tried to educate their sons at his court. MacGilliphraddin became Fitz- Patrick, and Morrough O'Brien and Ulich Bourke, Earls of Thomond and Clanrickard. Instead of the Irish becoming English it was the reverse. The futility of supposed blood ties in nationality was soon to be shown by Ireland where the leaders of the revolt were mostly of English descent whose ties with the land proved far more binding than the old blood connexion. The denationalization of the English in Ireland became a source of amazement. Spenser remarked that their de- scendants had completely identified themselves with the land and were more hostile to the English than the Irish themselves." The Veres became the MacSweeneys. Eng- lish families "degenerating into this barbarism have changed their names after the Irish tongue," ^^ and were ashamed to have had any community with British fore- bears. Nothing surprised the English so much as to find educated men among the "wild Irish," some of them good Latinists; the rebel O'Rourke had been an Oxford student. They felt amazed that an English education did not always imply English sympathy. The most 'idealist of poets advocated the stern suppres- sion of Irish nationality. So liberal a writer as Richard Becon ^^ who preaches the good will and consent of the 304 TUDOR IDEALS people, yet urged the repression of Irish national manifes- tations. The Age had not advanced to any tolerance for other nationalities where these were inferior in the scale of civilization. Sympathy toward an alien culture was unknown. Oddly enough the feeling of conscious nationalism in language was first heard most eloquently in Scotland. Gawain Douglas prided himself on his literary produc- tions in "Scottish," and made frequent references to "our Scottish tongue." In the rhymed preface to his transla- tion of Virgil, he tried to write in his own language which he had learned to speak as a page, and to use as few Eng- lish words as possible. Sir David Lyndsay defended his own desire to write in the common tongue. Lowland Scot- land bordered by the Gaelic Highlands and the Tweed, found a patriotic argument in its language. James VI took pride that his treatise in verse was the only one of its kind in the Scottish tongue which differs from the English "in sundry rules of poesy." In England literary consciousness appeared in the de- sire to purge the language of its borrowings. William Thynne republished Chaucer calling him the poet who, in spite of his age of ignorance, had been the first to rescue English from its barbarous uses. He referred to the im- provement in modern continental tongues and to the corre- sponding movement in England toward the "beautifying and bettering" of the language. So great a classical scholar as Sir Thomas Cheke realized the importance of striving toward a purer English, "unsullied and unman- gled with borrowings of other tongues. " ^^ The consciousness of literary nationality was everywhere increasing. By intelligent application of the spirit of antiquity the seed of modernity was sown. Where Chau- cer and Lydgate had apologized for writing in the vulgar tongue, Ascham, dedicating his " Toxophilus " to the king, remarked that though he might have written it in Latin, or Greek, yet he preferred to do so "in the English tongue NATIONALISM 305 for Englishmen," anticipating blame for this because it had hitherto only been used in writing by the ignorant. Ascham who was a literary nationalist deprecated mix- ing languages and reproved the introduction of foreign words. ^^ With the same idea, the author of the famous preface to the "Shepheard's Calendar" singled out Spenser for having laboured to restore forgotten English words to their proper vintage, instead of patching up the lan- guage with pieces and rags borrowed from French and Italian. A new feeling of the literary excellence of Eng- lish had arisen. The poet Gascoigne was to urge the use of monosyllables to seem the truer Englishman, and smell the less of the inkhorn.^^ Where Bembo had praised the Tuscan, Du Bellay the French, and the Spaniard, Vives could write in Latin to advocate the use of the vernacular, a schoolmaster like Pal- grave dedicating his rendering oi Acolastus to Henry VIII, laid stress on the importance of proper instruction being given in both Latin and English and noted with pride that the English language had then reached its "highest perfection. " The scholarly pride of the poet formed part of the new consciousness of life discovered by the Italians who like the Greeks regarded "all other nations to be barbarous and unlettered." ^^ Gabriel Harvey wrote that Italy, France and Spain had wilfully set out to advance their tongues above Greek and Latin and rightly esteemed their own national poets, whereas in England everything English was disparaged. ^^ Classicist though he was, he hoped that England also would assert itself and cease to care for what was done in "ruinous Athens or. decayed Rome." His exaggerations were not without their grain of truth. National political unity had run ahead of cul- tural development. English scholars were now anxious to prove that England, far from being a "barbarous nation," was also a mother of letters. Such forms of nationalism, breathing satisfaction for 3o6 TUDOR IDEALS whatever came from the soil, were healthy and useful when not exaggerated, for at times they led to an undue ex- uberance of vanity. John Coke in the "Debate between the Heralds of England and France" of 1550, discovered ground for British superiority since the day when Bru- tus brought four Athenian philosophers to the University he had founded at Stanford. ^^ That extravagances should be committed in the name of nationalism was natural. The fact that English learning was lacking in the com- manding personality of the greater continental contempo- raries caused eagerness to hide such shortcomings. John Bale wrote patriotic effusions over obscure scholars. Har- rison asserted that the English clergy were everywhere reputed to be the most learned. ^° Francis Mere's praise of Shakespeare has survived, but his enthusiasm for every form of English culture becomes grotesque when Thomas Atchelow and Matthew Royden are cited to prove the superiority of British bards. Carew claims preeminence for English over all other tongues because it had borrowed from them all.^^ W. C. in "Polimanteia" asserted the superiority of the new English poetry over its French and Italian predecessors. Let Tasso and Ariosto, du Bellay and Ronsard, admit that in Spenser and Daniel they had found their masters. ^^ Thomas Nash expresses readiness to back Spenser against all the world. ^^ The Italian, Polydore Virgil, the first to approach Eng- lish history in a critical spirit, brought on himself a storm of censure indignant at his disproof of early legends. The reflective attitude of man expressed through scholarship required a certain maturity of mind to ripen. The grow- ing feeling of nationalism which was to be the political accompaniment of this self-consciousness was, however, responsible for the first study in England of British antiq- uities and of whatever might contribute to exalt the na- tional origins. Scholarship assumed a patriotic colour. The pride of NATIONALISM 307 achievement and the wish to rival the past were attached to this feehng. On the Continent learned men like Orosius wilfully distorted the truth; others like Gaguin extolled the deeds of their nation at the expense of others.^'' English scholars partly in emulation, or because they felt the same currents, magnified Britain and whatever per- tained to their native land. The new spirit of literary nationalism was not peculiar to any one country. Hubert Languet relates how German scholars claimed Teutonic origins for most of Northern France and could smile at the " Cambro-Briton," Hum- phrey Lluyd, furious to be called an Englishman. ^^ Such excess of nationalism was only the counterpart of the political imperialism of the age which veered around till it assumed a religious form. It was the instinctive re- action against the internationalism of the early learning. The humanists had felt at home in every centre of letters, and remained without patriotism in their attachment to the ancient literature, but the new generation by a na- tural reaction applied scholarly methods derived from antiquity to their own national culture. For the first time all forms of English life aroused in- terest. William Thynne passed his life in collecting, edit- ing and publishing the manuscripts of Chaucer. His son Francis to give proof of a critical discernment not often associated with the age, entered into a minute examina- tion of philological questions in his criticism of Speaight's edition of the poet. The early origins of the English language were studied.^^ In 1574 the History of Alfred was printed in Anglo-Saxon characters with an interlinear English translation. With men like Camden, Spelman, Stow, Norden and Caius, a novel curiosity was taken in the antiquities of England, national and local. Although the interest in ruins was never so great in England as on the Continent, English scholars were alive to the importance of those dis- covered on their own soil. Holinshed described minutely 3o8 TUDOR IDEALS the remains at Bath and made conjectures about various pieces of Roman statuary. He devoted a chapter to the antiquities found in England, especially cairns, and the Roman remains still in existence near Chesterford and Burton as well as the mosaic pavements at Ancaster. Harrison, who collected ancient coins, comments on the antiquities continually being discovered near localities where Roman legions had wintered. London never exercised such appeal to the English imagination as Rome did to the Italian, but it, also, be- came a source of pride. Stow, who begins his survey of London by dwelling on the Roman writers who had glori- fied their city, found everywhere interest in the buildings, monuments and foundations of his native city. Such books as Harrison's "Description of England" and Sir Thomas Smith's "Commonwealth of England" show the new curiosity of man in his surroundings. Where Smith analyzes the machinery of government, Harrison describes the lives and customs of the people. Each aimed to leave a permanent record of events, and Smith in his final words declares his intention not to draw the description of an ideal commonwealth but of England as it "standeth and is governed at this day, the 28th of March 1565." His new comparative method brings out the elements of diflference between England and the continental states where Roman civil law was used. Harrison aims to give a truthful account of his age, with its social forces and the spirit of its life. His claim to be the first who has described "this isle of Britain" is not strictly true, but he was first to enter into his task from the modern point of view of interest in the life about him. Such books, written often in a spirit of national self- praise, were less modelled on the works of antiquity than on continental prototypes. Everywhere the fresh sap of the Renaissance was producing its lesser shoots in books ren- dered original by their specious purpose, and whose inter- est springs as much from uncritical criticism as from the NATIONALISM 309 merits of their scholarship. They pertain to the age far more by their purpose than by the ponderous quality of their learning. The activities of the century were not iso- lated and detached, but closely associated. The interest presented by learning lay in it having left the seclusion of monasteries and colleges to enter life. The Academies which then began to be formed like the "Society of Anti- quaries, " provided the first meeting ground where those occupied in affairs like Archbishop Parker held inter- course with such scholars as Cotton, Selden and Speed. A cultivated society came out of this headed by men like Sir Robert Cotton and Sir Thomas Bodley, to provide new contact between life and learning. X. INTERNATIONALISM The Church alone during the Middle Ages reminded men of their brotherhood. It must always be the boast of Rome to have upheld a universal ideal inherited from an- tiquity, which came near to preserving the civilized world within its fold. The spirit of the Renaissance swept over Europe at a time when this feeling was in decay, receding before the rise of a national consciousness which forced even the vicar of Christ to become an Italian prince. In- ternationalism derived from a Universal Church, took a secular form in letters. The common origin of classical culture provided the new bond of union between nations. The political justification of internationalism lies in economy of effort. Alien rule seems less alien where local laws and customs remain unchanged. Rome of the Em- perors understood this and its imperialism became by policy tolerant and cosmopolitan. Henry VIII's conti- nental ambition made him welcome foreigners and ad- vance his claim for election as Emperor, on the ground that he "is of the Germany tongue."^ The age found little interest in theoretical foundations of race, yet its rulers groped toward a new imperialism in the same way as the masses groped toward nationalism. Henry VIII could give the name of "Emperor" to one of his new ships. Later Somerset's plan of union between England and Scotland, proposed that the names of the two coun- tries be abandoned, that the United Kingdom be called the Empire, and its Sovereign "Emperor of Great Britain." 2 Imperialism is always the result of a superabundance of energy fretting within its own walls. The mistake lies in regarding it as a purely political phenomenon attached 310 INTERNATIONALISM 3 1 1 to the idea of sovereignty, instead of recognizing its in- tellectual and economic aspects. It has been unduly nar- rowed instead of widened. In this sense, the absorption of new elements from abroad was to be a necessary step before England could hope to attain her higher destiny. Foreign ideas, whether coming from scholars, or naviga- tors, the growth of foreign intercourse, the desire for for- eign luxuries, were as many spurs with which to prick into action the dormant energy of a proud and gifted race. They were the ferment needed to leaven the English people. England became a great nation only after her outlook had become internationalized through contact with the great forces of the world and she had acquired consciousness of her opportunity toward these. This came about through several different ways. After their long isolation. Englishmen felt the magnet which drew them outside their own island. New relations fol- lowed the usual course which developed from ignorance and hostility, to imitation, and from imitation to orig- inality. Such evolution embraced the history of the century during which time alien ingredients became grad- ually absorbed into British life where they acted as civil- izing processes. Foreign elements only enter the life of a nation when they are able to offer some kind of superiority. The English became an imperial race, not because of the square miles of territory they sought to colonize, but because their permanent vision went beyond the sea and because the courage and fortitude necessary to achieve great results ran in their blood. The growing call for high adventure and reward was the reason which then made England a great power. Alien ingredients only seem dangerous to the man who stays at home, and rightly so, for he has nothing satisfac- tory to oppose to them. The sailor who realized that he was carrying with him a little of British soil, did not feel this risk. The man who fought the Spaniards could copy 312 TUDOR IDEALS Spanish fashions in his dress and use Spanish oaths in his talk, without feehng that he was one whit less an English- man. Hence, by an odd paradox, the real promoters of English greatness were those who were ready to drink from foreign sources and found nothing amiss in introduc- ing foreign elements into their parlance. It may seem farfetched to find connexion between the early humanists and those who sailed the Spanish Main. Yet scholars first brought this wider outlook into England, and the ideas born from classical texts were gradually to extend until they sent Drake to sack the Spanish galleons. The early cosmopolitanism which made Colet and More believe in the brotherhood of man was religious and intel- lectual. When the rift of creed split Europe in two, the fragments of the more civilizing aspects of internationalism were preserved by a universal scholarship. During the Middle Ages men had wandered freely from one univer- sity to another. Something of this spirit was preserved, for it was the practice of the crown in England to send promising scholars abroad for study. ^ The novelty of the lesson which Italy alone had once been able to teach was no more so great. Much of the difference in intellec- tual level between England and the Continent had been bridged over, while a new political bias due to religious grounds made men either violent partisans or else left them indifferent. A few scholars could still correspond. Bude exchanged letters with Cuthbert Tunstall and Richard Pace, Ascham with Peter Ramus, Camden with a number of French men of letters. But toward the end of the century even this intercourse had diminished in spite of the foreign schol- ars and religious refugees who visited England. Bacon lamented the fact that not more international ties bound together the universities and preached fraternity in learning, but the unity of Europe had been shattered. Such cosmopolitanism as now existed was that of the in- dividual and except for the Catholic priesthood not of a INTERNATIONALISM 3 13 class. Humanism in its early sense was dead, but its seeds had ripened into a new feeling of the inherent community of mankind. Shylock's speech to Salario pleads the brotherhood of man. Samuel Daniel could write that the "happy pen Should not be vassaled to one monarchy But dwell with all the better world of men Whose spirits all are of one community." ^ Expatriation was not infrequent. During the Catho- lic Reaction, the Society of Jesus did much to create new international bonds which stretched across frontiers. Rob- ert Parsons and his band of English Jesuits, unlike most English Catholics, were British only in name. Some English renegades became Moslems and in the fight between the Dolphin of London and five Turkish ships, three of these, according to a contemporary ac- count, were captained by Englishmen.^ The Dey of Al- giers had appointed a renegade Englishman as his treas- urer.^ Strangest of all were the adventures of William Adams who made Japan his home, married a Japanese wife and built the first Japanese navy. Scholarly internationalism was dead, but popular in- ternationalism brought cultivation to the masses. Like the overflow of a reservoir new ideas then poured into England. Innumerable translations from foreign tongues gave a smattering of culture to those who had before been without it. So late as the Fifteenth Century the English tongue had not altogether established itself in higher circles. Several of the earlier letters in the Paston correspondence are in French. The long connexion with France had not yet severed all the links which made for a distinct na- tionality. The practice was frequent for Englishmen of family to be sent to Paris to complete their education. Erasmus' first connexion with England came about in this way. Anne Boleyn, had been brought up at the 314 TUDOR IDEALS French court from which she returned with the poet Nicholas Bourbon in her train. Henry VIII's love letters to her were nearly all in a French which shows thorough familiarity with the tongue. Later in the century, James VI, writing to Elizabeth on more than one occasion, ex- pressed himself in French. French influence was powerful in Scotland. France was full of Scotchmen, from the archers of the king to the poor students of the college who went there to find for- tune, and even in compliment James VI could say to La Mothe Fenelon, the French Ambassador, that, though he had two eyes, two ears and two hands, he had but one heart and that was French. An interchange between the two lands was continuous. French tutors were found in many great houses.^ French humanists like Loys le Roy and Henry Estienne and poets like Ronsard and Monchrestien, came to England. French Huguenot tracts were translated into English. French phrase books were frequent,^ and one of the first was printed by Wynkyn de Worde about the year 1500. The fact that this contains rules for table manners and let- ters which a prentice was supposed to write to his master to announce the arrival of ships at Southampton, indicates that it was intended for wider diffusion than in the circle of the court. It is commonly supposed that English was still ignored in France in the Sixteenth Century, yet Sir David Lynd- say's Poems were printed in English in Paris in 1558 ^ and English poems were also printed in Paris. ^° English- men like John Eliot wrote in French, and Gascoigne com- posed his "Hermit's Tale" in French as well as in English. The anonymous T. B. C. translating La Primaudaye's "French Academic" in 1586, speaks of retaining many of the author's words which "will be found harsh at the first," but in a short time will be read as smooth as other Greek or Latin words which are now taken for mere Eng- lish. The use of these " tendeth to the enriching of our INTERNATIONALISM 315 own language. " The vocabulary was added to in this way- much to the disgust of purists. The fashion for everything foreign had swept over Eng- land. The young gallant enters Paul's churchyard to buy Ronsard, Aretine and the Spanish writers with which to sharpen his wits. Foreign fashions excited disparage- ment of the native product. Nash wrote "Tut says our English Italian the finest wits our climate sends forth are but dry brained dolts in comparison of other countries. "^^ Puritans and nationalists were alarmed by such tend- encies which were thought to encourage Romanism. By a curious but frequent paradox foreign influences aroused English nationalism. The new literary nationalism at- tacked the very elements it copied. A chorus of writers united to deplore this love of for- eign fashions among the English. ^^ Long before Nash and Greene, Laurence Humphrey complained of his coun- trymen being "delighted rather with foreign wits and traffic than their own countries." Only what came from abroad, whether in language, apparel or behaviour, was prized. ^^ Even Lyly felt it necessary to warn his read* ers against the danger of foreign travel. ^^ XL CLASSICISM AND THE UNIVERSITIES In the preface to his edition of Cato, Caxton singled out for praise the example of the Romans, who out of de- votion to their city sacrificed property and life. An- tique virtue was always before the eyes of the men of the Renaissance. It provided them with a conception of life enlarged beyond the castle, guild and monastery. In this sense, the lesson of the classics though not inten- tionally democratic, tended toward the idea of man's place in the state outside the narrow groove in which the Middle Ages had set him. The Renaissance spirit wel- comed at court because of extolling the power of the prince, came as a revelation to those below, to whom it represented a far wider horizon. Almost unconsciously it evolved the idea of the modern state where social dif- ferences depend no longer on legal restrictions. Men dis- covered that in an age which they recognized was further advanced than their own, humanity had made easier the liberation of individual energy and talent. The lesson of the classics greater than that conveyed by its texts, pointed to the discovery of a new conception of life. Humanism was never the revelation to England that it had been to Italy where for a century it arrested the promise of its original genius. South of the Alps, it had grown as a plant of native growth flourishing on its own soil. The many-headed Italian structure was as favour- able to a learning which could not exist without patron- age, as it was unfavourable to national unity. In England, where humanism was imported, the normal centres of attraction were confined to the court and two universi- ties. Much of its original force was gone before it had crossed the channel, and it had already become the shadow 316 CLASSICISM AND THE UNIVERSITIES 317 of a shadow. It was welcomed and protected, but in its original form it never shot out strong roots on British soil. A few classical scholars whose names are almost forgotten and would elsewhere have passed almost unnoticed, adorn the scholarly annals of the age. But for several reasons, its immediate influence was narrow and its direct effects restricted. The most valuable results were to be indirect and remote. The real revelation of the Ancient World was later felt by those who, unable to construe a simple Latin sentence, yet saw before them the living figures of antiquity. The intellectual barrenness of the Fifteenth Century in England was so immense as to make peculiarly welcome any glimmer of a new culture. The chronicle of a move- ment inevitably lifts its sponsors out of their true per- spective. Patrons of letters like Duke Humphrey of Gloucester, or Tiptoft, had undoubted appreciation of the new ideas then stirring Italy. But as forerunners of the Renaissance in England their importance hardly ex- tended beyond their persons, and save for the donation of a few volumes, remained without known influence. The isolated example of scholars and patrons, picked out from among the annals of the age, show only that a cer- tain scholarly tradition, hanging on a thin spun thread, had survived from earlier times. The knowledge of Greek was probably never entirely lost in England, but the atmosphere of learning had become rarefied. Even the first band of Oxford scholars who went to Italy, suggest little more than the recognition of new opportunities for cultivation existing beyond the Alps. A few English churchmen took interest in learning. Here and there, a few Italian prelates or travellers find recep- tiveness for their ideas. The search for such examples thin-spread through the disordered annals of the age, offers the most convincing proof of how slightly their im- portance touched the national life. The return of Grocyn and Linacre from Italy has usually been taken as the 3i8 TUDOR IDEALS date for the introduction of the new learning into England, but even this suggests misleading inferences, if an orderly and progressive development of scholarship is meant thereby. The reactions of English learning to the Renais- sance are ill defined so soon as one seeks to pierce beyond the more obvious facts. No such printers graced the annals of the English press as the Aldines in Italy or the Estiennes in France. Wynkyn de Worde and Reginald Wolfe were Alsatians. Richard Pynson a Frenchman. The printer of Elizabethan times was a jobber. John Rastell, who was a lawyer, is almost the only example of the cultivated man able to appreciate the bond between letters and the printing press. Learning failed in early attempts to attain the same dignity in England as it had achieved on the Continent. And the fault lies not a httle with the lack of commanding personalities. Its atmosphere especially during the early years of the Sixteenth Century was limited. One points to shining lights and quotes Erasmus' fulsome praise. Erasmus then looking for patronage had been well re- ceived in England and took pride in his discovery of British scholars, but even he limits the number of the erudite in London to five or six. English scholars, less gifted than the Italian, attracted him by fewer pretensions and greater purity of life. The monastic tradition still stamped an ascetic touch which nearer familiarity with Rome effaced in Italy. But learning never reached out to the same full growth. Wolsey himself in spite of his munificent scholastic foundations took little real interest in the re- vival of letters. Scholarship remained stunted. Leland the antiquary has described this indifference. In London he had been able to discover only one collection of books and calls shame on "so noble a city to have but one library and that to be so slender. " ^ At Norwich he had found all the books from the monasteries turned over to the use of grocers and candlemakers. His Protestantism made him CLASSICISM AND THE UNIVERSITIES 319 approve of the dissolution of the monasteries, but he re- gretted the blow dealt to letters. "Why ought not their libraries as well have remained to the commonwealth of learning undestroyed?" He denounced as a national dis- grace that so many ancient chronicles and histories should have been destroyed. In so doing "we have both "greatly dishonoured our nation and also showed ourselves very wicked to our posterity." A new doctrine had, however, been brought over and its seeds scattered. Some of these never ripened at all or wilted when separated from Continental inspiration. Some gave great promise which later was little fulfilled. Others changed their nature and developed into some- thing different and far more important. Except for a narrow group the new culture was tardy in establishing itself on British soil. A few examples can always be ral- lied to prove the contrary. But the broad result was disappointing though not unexpected. The normal chan- nel for the diffusion of new ideas was clogged from the start. The intellectual triumph of medieval institutions had been the University. It was the product of monasticism applied to letters, and its conservative spirit due to early traditions continued to be powerful, and made the nat- ural centres of learning far from responsive to the new ideas. The scholarly awakening of medieval Oxford de- cayed with the suppression of Wycliffism. When dry rot seizes hold of an academic institution none can be so refractory to novelty, and humanism even with the consecration of exalted patronage, was far from welcome in the supposed homes of learning. It had to contend there against the weight of an ancient established tradi- tion and a force of inertia whose only energy was roused by resistance. Such early struggles, centring around the contest between so-called Grecians and Trojans, ended supposedly in the triumph of the former. The new move- ment, powerfully supported by the crown, could not lightly 320 TUDOR IDEALS be brushed aside. But its victory was not conclusive and its growth remained retarded and hemmed in. The early luminaries of the new learning in England were scholars concerned with the subject of their studies more than with the direction of institutions. Though some of them afterward lectured at Oxford they hardly attained academic prominence, and the main interest of their lives is to be found elsewhere. Success was incom- plete and precarious, and preserved only a narrow foot- hold. Erasmus' flattering comment on British scholar- ship and his enthusiastic account of a banquet at Oxford are one side of the picture. Even the existence of a Tunstall and a Lilly did not mean that the new culture rested on any broad foundation or met with any deep interest or support. The University could begrudge its welcome to human- ism the more easily, because the latter was neither aca- demic in its origins nor in its early associations, while those of its sons who felt the call of the new learning did not return to the fold. Even in Italy, the humanists had been mostly individual scholars whose learning came from self-study or from some one master and was not the prod- uct of an institution. In the end it was inevitable that the erudite should drift toward the anchorage of the University to seek there academic shelter. But the orig- inal welcome had been cold for many reasons, and not least because of the atmosphere of conservatism imposed by an earlier tradition. Many of the best scholars of the time never went to the University. Later Scaliger re- mained outside academic life until called to Leyden in his old age. The real spirit of both Oxford and Cambridge was in- herited from the Middle Ages. Hence under Mary, even the utility of Greek was once more doubted and the ef- fort made to bring back scholasticism and let "Duns with all the rabble of barbarous questionists" ^ dispossess Plato and Cicero. Till very much later the old inherited CLASSICISM AND THE UNIVERSITIES 321 "quadrivials" were still studied though "now smally regarded."^ The path to academic success lay through routine pursuits and orthodox conservatism. The glov/ing picture drawn by Ascham of the state of Hellenic studies at Cambridge in 1542, is the best testi- mony of how tardy and restricted had been the spread of the new learning. Classical studies were slow to make their way and their penetration in the end was at no little sacrifice. When the Universities found these could no longer be kept from their doors, instinctively they devitalized their spirit. Instead of the Ancients being the living inspiration they had proved to Erasmus and to More, the classical tongues came to be regarded primarily as suitable instruments for study. The writing of Latin and Greek became goals for academic ingenuity and the classical revelation, instead of spurring men on to fresh enquiry, was distorted into making unwilling school- boys compose bad Latin verses. No great mind nor directing force lived to make the University realize the place it might have filled in na- tional life. Linacre found his field of interest in medi- cine, Tunstall, Sir Thomas Smith, Roger Ascham and Thomas Wilson, in the service of the state. Men of real scholarly attainments sought occupation outside the Uni- versity. Both Cambridge and Oxford suffered during the Six- teenth Century. In a sermon preached in 1550, Lever alludes to their decay, to the dwindling number of scholars, as well as to their wretched condition.^ Latimer attrib- uted this to the impoverishment of the yeomen class no longer prosperous enough to give their sons a good edu- cation.^ The troubled progress of the Reformation had as much to do with this, for the colleges, unable to secu- larize themselves were affected by the frequent changes. Where there was no fixed goal nor high purpose, the drift and interest lay in material welfare. Students who lin- gered at the Universities until they were forty, could 322 TUDOR IDEALS then live like "drone bees on the fat of the colleges, with- holding better wits from the possession of their places. " ^ In centres so self-contained, there was opportunity for abuses to creep in. The rich foundations and attractive surroundings drew a class who, already conservative by instinct, found there confirmation for natural inclinations. In such an atmosphere, the main interest gathered around persons and places instead of ideas. Foundations given to provide for the indigent, were diverted from their original intention and masters themselves were not free from the suspicion of bribery.'^ Leicester's enemies ac- cused him of appointing at his pleasure the heads of colleges and disposing of fellowships by favouritism and corruption.^ Yet poor men's sons attended the colleges. When William Thomas described the University of Padua, he contrasted it with Oxford and Cambridge where so many of the students were base born. Examples like Gabriel Harvey, the son of a rope maker, of Marlowe the cobbler's son, and Spenser the watchmaker's, occur to the memory. The choice of students was not drawn from any caste and the sins of the system can hardly be laid at the door of exclusiveness. But without fixed method or intention, the colleges reflected the tone of a certain class and freely admitted to preferment only those who chose to conform to their own standards. Gabriel Harvey relates that his master's degree had at first been refused him on the ground of his being fond of parodoxes and given to defend strange doctrines even against Aris- totle.^ The University was a nursery for preachers and law- yers, but scholarship remained on a lower level than on the Continent. Joseph Scaliger felt frankly disappointed with Cambridge and was struck by its atmosphere of lazi- ness and narrowness. Giordano Bruno was unfavourably impressed by Oxford, where he found a constellation of pedantic ignorance and conceit coupled with rustic rude- CLASSICISM AND THE UNIVERSITIES 323 ness.^° The academic polish of the age in its relation to events, was mainly seen in the flood of classical orations, plays, and verses, by which the scholastic instinct re- duced humanism to a lifeless expression. The reaction against the clumsy language of the schoolmen came in the attention lavished on style and in Bacon's opinion the first evil effect of the new learning was witnessed when men studied words and not matter. The disputations in the ancient tongues and the per- formances of Latin and Greek comedies and tragedies, given on the occasion of royal visits to the Universities, show one aspect of humanism grafted upon academic life. Knowledge of the classics found an outlet in such effu- sions as were written in Greek, Latin and even Hebrew, to commemorate the death of a national hero like Sid- ney. ^^ Yet the Renaissance meant something deeper than this. Although the leaders of the University were not aware of its revelation, many of the students knew instinctively that there was more. Gabriel Harvey felt satisfaction that scholars had become active rather than contemplative philosophers and above everything else wished to be something more than learned; even Aris- totle came to be as little read as Duns Scotus.^^ Young University men, often half educated, like Marlowe, Greene and Nash, forsook collegiate narrowness to seek fortune or failure in London. The academic shortcomings were reflected in the series of half measures in education, which came from the in- ability either to grasp or to impart the new doctrines. Those gifted with rich scholarship remained a minority whose influence was never a real gauge. The attempts of a few scholars to introduce classical metres into Eng- lish, were rather imitations of what Italians and French had done, than a direct impelling wish to copy the an- cients. Antiquity was never a living world to English- men. It remained for all save a few, something exter- nal, a style more than a doctrine, a lesson more than a 324 TUDOR IDEALS creed. Alone, the greatest mind of the age realized how immense was the opportunity missed. Bacon in the "Advancement of Learning" criticised the entire Uni- versity idea in Europe, as fitting men only for the pro- fessions and not for the pursuits of arts and sciences. He saw the need for radical reform, beginning with an in- crease in the teachers' stipends which were so low as not to attract the best brains. In his judgment, the prac- tice of teaching at all Universities required entire over- hauling. Their traditions still dated from an age of darkness and they took insufficient account of the real conditions of life. XII. THE DIFFUSION OF EDUCATION A DESIRE for education extending far beyond any group or class was among the new ideas. Man discovering him- selfj instinctively felt the need to garner his mind. A half unconscious secular drift had been weaning away instruc- tion from the clergy even before the Reformation. The hope of reformers in the Renaissance lay in making edu- cation general for all and no longer confined to priests and a few of gentle birth. During the Fifteenth Century the instruction of the lower classes had been utterly neglected and that of the upper if less so than is often supposed, had little in com- mon with cultivation. A knowledge of legal terms and processes was frequent, and of bad Latin and French not unusual,^ but there was slight interest taken in cultiva- tion or any broad purpose beyond the practical necessi- ties of life. The new age, however, recognized in educa- tion the foundation of the State, with practical results which were seen during the course of the century. En- tire classes, previously illiterate or whose instruction had been confined to the rudimentary notions they had picked up from mentors almost as illiterate as themselves, for the first time were given opportunity for instruction. Education was at the basis of all proposed reforms and the finer minds of the age looked forward to seeing the riches of the Church used for this purpose. Henry VIII entertained originally some such idea and Wolsey, to his credit, endowed with ecclesiastical property both his col- lege at Oxford and his Ipswich school. The early reformers like Brynklow, Crowley, and Simon Fish, all urged that the land taken from religious houses should go to main- tain common schools. 32s 326 TUDOR IDEALS Sir William Forrest urged that all children be sent to school from the age of four and afterward taught some handicraft.^ The hopes of the reformers in this direction were over-ambitious. Seeking far-reaching innovations they accomplished much less than they set out to do. The ripened fruit of the Renaissance was the individ- ual. The seed for collective measures of social ameliora- tion remained imperfect and half nebulous, amid plans whose fruition could only come much later. Yet the ideas of the early reformers persisted. Under Eliz- abeth, Geoffrey Fen ton wrote in favour of free schools, suggesting provisions to endow these,^ and Puritans like Stubbes, advocated a vast extension of education with the removal of all hindrances which had hitherto stood in the way. In his opinion every parish was to have its schoolmaster who was first to be examined for charac- ter and knowledge.^ The wish for education lowered its level to circles where it had before been unattainable. Incompletely though the new ideals were realized, many a village for the first time had its Hugh Evans teach country lads the rudiments of Latin and do more for the knowledge of antiquity than the classical scholarship of a Walter Haddon. One result of this diffusion lay in the increased social sympathy brought out through the contact of differ- ent classes. Ideas of Renaissance education are apt to be formed by the great exceptions. Surrey's description of his own bringing up at Windsor is typical of only a small circle. The same fault can be found with Elyot's "Governour" intended solely for those of gentle birth, and little applicable to the vast majority. But the castle system of training was being superseded. Whether be- cause of new ideas or new facilities, the sons of gentle- men often studied side by side with the sons of farmers and small tradesmen. This fact may have been among the causes why there was never the same social rift in England as on the Continent. Philip Sidney attended THE DIFFUSION OF EDUCATION 327 school at Shrewsbury. Even foreign boys were sent to English public schools, and four youths who came from Muscovy to study English and Latin, were distributed between Eton and Winchester.^ A broadly humanistic purpose directed these schools. Wolsey had outlined a programme for his foundations at Ipswich. The basis of instruction was to be classical in the sense that the great Latin poets and prose writers were all to be read, but the underlying idea of education was the development of the pupil's character. Beyond this the training of youth was to be physical. Outside the school walls, archery was long regarded as of real signif- icance in the education of boys, both as a sport and as a means of national defence. A serious wish to improve educational methods was characteristic of the Renaissance and although England lagged behind other countries in breadth of scholarship, it felt the same interest in instruction. The wave of the new culture reached England more tardily than on the Continent and after its initial force was already spent. In its weakened form, already modified by the nationalism of the countries through which it passed, it came to a land where an instinctive national force had always pos- sessed strong roots and where even the learned were re- luctant to relinquish any part of their racial inheri- tance. Hence the welcome given to the ancients was at once affected by a point of view which found support in the later continental example with its growing recogni- tion of the value of the national tongue. Ideas of this nature were not hostile to the humanist spirit but only to the distorted outlook which previously had allowed accomplished classical scholars to remain unable to express their thoughts in the vulgar tongue. The English idea was to make Latin a complementary language, and to such subordination may be due the hap- pier results of the national genius than in those con- tinental states where a purer classicism prevailed. This 328 TUDOR IDEALS tendency was more instinctive than conscious, though Ciceronianism never attained the popularity it enjoyed in Italy, and was regarded by a mind like Philip Sidney with indifference. The greatest difficulty was to reconcile Latin with Christian doctrine, but this was overcome in part by orthodox instruction being given in the texts of the Renaissance like the "Bucolics" of Mantuanus, or the "Zodiac of Life" of Palingenius. In England Chris- topher Ocland composed a heroic poem in Latin hexame- ter known as the Anglorum Prcelia and tried through friends at court to have this adopted in the public schools instead of pagan poets "from which the youth of the realm doth rather receive infection in manners than advancement in virtue."^ The classical current filtering through wider channels fortunately became diluted. National and Puritan in- fluences attacking from different sides transformed it into something in nearer relation to the nation and more comprehensible to the racial genius. This result was both facilitated and hastened by other circumstances. The immense novelty of the Sixteenth Century lay in no longer restricting the possibility of education solely to those who had studied at learned institutions. If the printing press was to provide the mechanical device which made possi- ble this new diffusion, the human element came from the multitude of those who with greater or less acquaintance of the new learning then popularized erudition. For the first time it was recognized that man could be- come cultivated by reading. Far more important than the scholarship of grammarians was the popular form such interest took. A new field open to all was brought within the culture of the age mainly through translation. The ancient poets and prose writers began to be read in their English renderings. About the middle of the Six- teenth Century it became possible to have a smattering of the classics without the knowledge of one word of Latin. THE DIFFUSION OF EDUCATION 329 Collections of letters were made to provide models se- lected from antiquity as well as from contemporary- humanists, who wrote in the ancient tongue.^ Such superficial acquaintance despite the pedant's scorn, was in certain respects of more real importance than a truer scholarship. Latin and Greek at their best were indigestible elements when introduced into English civilization, and the inherent difficulties of their study- deterred the majority- from pursuing it. The wells of English were hardly ever reached through the ancient texts and oftener sullied by the inkhorn. The real test of perfect assimilation lies in departure from the original. An accurate imitation remains always faulty because too lifeless to exert permanent influence. The Renaissance only attained full meaning in England, when it began to affect those, who in every station, and with every de- gree of comprehension, were responsive to the new ideas. The subtler processes by which such changes came about are necessarily obscure. It is easy to count schools and enumerate editions of books, but these were only the portals for the new ferment. The reason why the latter became connected with antiquity was that above the pedantry of the learned, men were able to feel for the first time in a thousand years, that their instinctive and con- scious aspirations, their ideals and ambitions, could trace their origin to the writings of classical times, and strike out fresh roots from imitative beginnings. The Eng- lish popularity of Ovid is explicable in this way. The translator Golding speaks of himself as a student who travelled " to enrich our tongue with knowledge hereto- fore not common to our vulgar speech," and apologized for its paganism by declaring that it was written before the knowledge of the true God, and that the mythological divinities were only to be regarded as symbols. The poets of the age took it for granted that their read- ers were familiar with the machinery of ancient mythol- ogy. Village schoolmasters and players brought to wide 330 TUDOR IDEALS circles a superficial knowledge which passed out of books into life. Those ignorant of the rudiments of Latin could read in translations about ancient philosophers and poets, or anecdotes of Greek Sophists, and Roman Senators. The gods of Olympus were then living to far wider circles than a few scholars. A certain familiarity with classicism derived from various channels was ele- mental and almost universal throughout England and shows not the least important side of the new learning. An odd jumble borrowed out of ancient history and my- thology was everywhere introduced into popular litera- ture. In the Induction to the "Spanish Tragedy" the prowling ghost of Andrea talks with Minos and Rhada- manthus! Englishmen in the Sixteenth Century felt an awakened craving for sensuous beauty. They looked around to find a dress for such instincts which could not be gratified in the dull pages of their own past literature. The inquis- itive mind of the age, avid for novelty and seeking to mould the expression of imaginative beauty, found means to gratify this taste in antiquity. The paganism of a university educated Marlowe, or the paganism of a gram- mar school educated Shakespeare, were expressions of this time. Neither was antique in any scholarly sense. Both were in far too intimate a relation to the age to confine their genius within any rigid imitation. From antiquity both borrowed only a subject-matter and a dress still new in England and enveloped this with their own luxurious trappings. The gorgeousness which in Italy adorned canvas and brocade was moulded by them into words. Leander and Adonis offered occasion for the sensuous craving of an era which borrowed foreign names and framework for a native product. In such a sense the lesson of antiquity became real by its own deficiencies. Learning ran past the Universities to lodge itself in those who with "small Latin and less Greek" breathed the revelation of the ancient world. THE DIFFUSION OF EDUCATION 331 Classicism in England left the study to pass into life, A great movement is rarely of immediate development. More often its vitality seems stunted or exposed to de- feat and reaction. The reason is, that new ideas are able at first to bring only a shallow impact on the country and the purer their form the more restricted remains their influence. To achieve victory they have to adjust them- selves to the spirit of the land itself in evolution, and thereby modify their own nature. As this is largely an unconscious process it takes time for accomplishment. The great forces which have stirred the world have never gone ahead unchecked but always have waited for victory. In its original wave the Renaissance merely attempted to copy the ancient world. With the growth of nation- ality in action as in thought, the desire to vie with Greece and Rome arose. Writing in the middle of the century, William Thomas alluded to the literary output of Italy, and remarked that if it lasted another ten years it would rival that of antiquity. Bacon with all his classical train- ing was against the dead hand of the past. Revering antiquity he deplored the influence it exercised in pre- serving error. The real triumph of the classical spirit came when men felt that they were no longer kept in its thrall. XIII. THE DISCOVERY OF LETTERS English letters in the Sixteenth Century sprang out of a thin soil. Cultivation was an exotic, and like all plants of foreign origin, required special treatment. Patronage became a vital prop for learning. A rude and in many respects primitive community, still largely illiterate, offers a condition little favourable for interest in polite letters. The struggling efforts of the latter, instinctively seeking a foothold, attach themselves to the mighty and require a support which brings its own penalty. Until literature is able to strike out for itself it tends to fawn on the great by making appeal to them. Under such conditions it can rarely attain genius. Cultivation, refinement, learn- ing, industry, and critical appreciation, are at best secon- dary qualities which arise out of narrow groups and do not lead to any broad human interest until they become leavened by new ingredients. The artificial protection of patronage was a necessary stage in the process of early development. A country self-contained and as insular in a narrow sense as was England in the Fifteenth Century, tends, if left to itself, to lapse into a lowering of standards which makes it drift toward barbarism. The correctives to such tendencies come through the assimilation of extraneous elements. Remote as they may seem to the national genius, the tests of their value cannot be gauged by any narrow meas- ure. The law of intellectual progress is contained in the elements of contact which permit an alien inspiration to adjust itself into a different national groove. The influence of learning and of poetry which then reached England was foreign and mainly Italian. It re- quired protection to cast its anchor and this it could only 332 THE DISCOVERY OF LETTERS 333 find among the great. The literary origins of the Renais- sance sprang from no popular roots, for the pure imitation of antiquity could by its nature never make a popular appeal. The bridge which attached England to the Renais- sance was in the beginning narrow and insecure, yet its importance proved enormous for across it passed the in- fluences which were to civilize the country. ^ Patronage and court favour, if on a less generous scale in England than on the Continent, provided an encouragement which hastened the introduction of the new ideas and allowed the nation thereby to anticipate its own evolution. With the diffusion of printing and the birth of a read- ing public, there came an intermediary stage in the dis- covery of letters. The scholar or poet, no longer obliged to rely exclusively on the enlightenment or vanity of a patron, could yet not afford to disregard him. The growth of circulation reduced the call on private generosity. No book appeared without some fulsome dedication to an exalted personage though the three pounds which Peele received for dedicating his "Honour of the Garter" to Lord Northumberland, seem barely enough to corrupt his judgm.ent, while the many dedications to Philip Sid- ney, were doubtless more honorific than remunerative. As a rule, the writers hardly dared to stand alone before the world but required support. And while ideally the poet could praise the poet's state and feel proudly con- scious of the art which raised his mind "above the starry sky" in practice he still wrote only for a small public and remained largely dependent on the bounty of a few pa- trons. Contemporaries could compare Spenser to Theoc- ritus, Virgil and Petrarch, but practically the latter had only a small court circle to rely on for his public, and his "Faerie Queene" took years to run into a second edition. The greatest period of English letters was not able^ to stand alone but required extraneous devices. The effusive flattery which disturbs the modern mind by its extrava- 334 TUDOR IDEALS gance, becomes more comprehensible when one realizes the abject poverty of those who sought to make a living by their pen. Henslowe's Diary states that he paid no dramatist more than eleven pounds for a single play until after 1613, when the commercial value of dramatic writ- ing was raised. The beginnings of independence in letters were, however, as unsavoury as beginnings often are. In Italy Aretines' blackmailing instincts had discovered the pecuniary possibilities of the pen. His English imitators like Greene and Nash first found in literature the means to eke out a questionable livelihood and doubtless sold their pen with profit during the Martin Marprelate con- troversy. These ancestors of Grub Street were to prove that a new reading public had been born whose opinion was worth capturing. The tendency of letters in a period of conscious activity is to claim representative functions. In this sense medi- ocrity provides the safer test, for the path of genius is not that of the multitude. It is easy to pick out among the Elizabethan dramatists certain characteristics of force and energy which to our modern mind make them the literary equivalent of Drake and Hawkins, but it would be as easy to construct from them still another world which bears no relation to the England of that day. The con- nection between life and letters is one where ready-made theories easily plunge into pitfalls. Yet letters in the Sixteenth Century expressed for the first time something more than didacticism. The discov- ery greater than any other, was the feeling of life in all its divers forms. The older idea of separate compart- ments of existence was receding before the new reve- lation. Literature embraced what would before have been regarded as its negation. Fresh interest was felt for every manifestation of the human intelligence. The younger Scaliger visiting England studied the old ballads with keen appreciation; Sidney relates how their recital moved him to tears. England achieved maturity in the THE DISCOVERY OF LETTERS 335 expressive power of literature. This ran parallel with the national evolution which it reflected. Not in art, not in music, but in poetry English genius discovered the world and expressed in words its own aspirations. Oddly enough literary personality in England remained undeveloped. While in Italy men of letters were con- spicuous, English writers in spite of talent as high were less impressive. Marlowe might have become a great figure. But Shakespeare whose genius created so many characters, as a man survives mainly as a blank, except for the record of a few commonplace stage activities and the trivial doings of a petty squire wrangling with his neighbours. No paradox could be stranger than the antithesis between his mind's creations conquering the world of imagination and the pettiness of his personal interests. Other men of letters who left their mark on the age like Wyatt, or later Sidney, did so because of distinction elsewhere. Spenser as a man was more a disappointed small official than a poet. Not till Ben Jonson did the author take his place in the life of the age. XIV. THE CULTIVATION OF LIFE Sir Thomas Elyot had lamented the slight esteem in which letters were held in England. Years later Bacon was to express the same idea. The sneers aroused by cul- tivation must have been frequent if such apologies offer any indication. In contrast to this, were the circum- stances then continually arising which required the abil- ities of the soldier, the diplomat, the administrator, the navigator, and the colonist. The age with all its theo- retical didacticism, and new programmes of education had yet not organized the rudiments of any public service, and the State found itself obliged to call in men for high position in a haphazard manner. This accounts for the multiple activities of the same individual, who crossed with facility from one field to the other. While it does not explain genius, it assists in understanding the humanistic preparation which made this possible and fitted the finer minds for their tasks. The activities of man were the re- sult of a classical and not of a technical education. Owing to this the ideal of letters and of action was better understood in the Sixteenth Century than in later ages. Men were not yet encumbered by the weight of an estab- lished career with its slow gradations toward success. Such a spirit as this enabled Sir Christopher Hatton who at the time of his appointment possessed little or no knowl- edge of the law, to fill with dignity the Lord Chancellorship. Cultivation, as a rule, stopped short with the knowl- edge of antiquity. Beyond that education came from an extraordinary diversity of events. The human pulse was beating quickly and imagination was easily fired. In every circle of life men gazed on a broader outlook, and felt their capacity in a way never before realized. Circumstances of different order contributed to create 336 THE CULTIVATION OF LIFE 337 a situation where letters led to action. Learning and arms were always the twin goals of the Renaissance in- herited as ideals from antiquity. Their union was realized, conspicuously, in the brilliant talents of Raleigh and Sid- ney, but also in those minor lights who like Gascoigne and Churchyard achieved the twin ideal of adventure and letters, yet felt prouder of their deeds than of their verse. In an age so vigorous as the Sixteenth Century, poetry was regarded more as an accomplishment than as an end in itself. The fact that letters formed part of life was to be a stride toward the embellishment of personality. Life offered a consistent ideal not without elevation, for the welfare of the state became its ultimate reason. The sense of nationality which asserted itself for the first time was built up by this association. The classical training in men made them conscious of what had before been instinctive and shaped an ideal of patriotism, nour- ished by letters and furthered by deeds. Dyer, Essex, Oxford were all men of action, and Fulke Greville could write of his friend Sidney: "His end was not in writing even while he wrote." Letters kept a more intimate relation to the man of action than is possible in an era of greater specialization. Marlowe regarded eloquence as the instrument by which the imagination should be freed. Theridamas acknowl- edges to Tamburlaine that he is "won with thy words." In "Julius Caesar" the mob sways in response to elo- quence. The same reasons which had favoured the enlargement of kingly power contributed to the rounding of the individ- ual. The greatness of the age was brought out by the blending of nationalism and of cosmopolitanism. Pride in England yet familiarity and sympathy with all the world. The prentices who thronged the Globe were familiar with the Roman imperiaHsm of Anthony and the Venetian im- perialism of Othello. Nothing human was strange to 338 TUDOR IDEALS them. No longer an audience of courtiers but the popu- lace of London responded to this revelation. Cultivation graced the lives of people removed from the scholar's study. In a double sense the effect of the Ren- aissance had been to secularize learning. It took it out of its pedagogic surroundings, and brought it into many a home which had before been barren of light. Henceforth, the taste for letters must be followed through far wider channels. A race of men steeped in the human- istic education begin to adorn the annals of English his- tory. One is able to trace their succession through Sir John Cheke, Sir Thomas Smith, Sir Thomas Wilson, As- cham, Buckhurst and Bacon. Though Cheke and Wilson were classical scholars of high attainment these men were of the generation of Renaissance statesmen who brought to the handling of public affairs a well-governed mind, free from academic seclusion. Letters formed part of the individual but they were far from being the soul of the individual. The sterile half century which elapsed before the brilliant promise of the courtly makers was fufillled, allowed for evolution in the cultivation of personality. The humanistic wave spread in ripples through the nation. What had once been singular and remarkable became of common achievement. A certain level of cul- ture percolated through the entire people. From the Ciceronian Latin at court to the hog Latin of the village school few there were so dense as to ignore its rudiments. One is too prone to care only for the brilliancy of attain- ment and pay scant notice to the silent years of germina- tion. The greater part of the Sixteenth Century in Eng- land intellectually speaking was almost barren. Such sterility is often attributed to the ambiguities surround- ing the national creed and the succession to the throne, reacting on the popular imagination. It was more likely caused by the lack of any foundation for the expression of the new ideas. As soon as these had been understood by levels where they were previously unknown, the har- THE CULTIVATION OF LIFE 339 vest was reaped with all the bounty of virgin soil just planted. Poetry emerged from its early confinement at court to be welcomed in a wider sphere. Literature became an occupation, and the drama a road to fame. Writing, which had been didatic, became a career. An appreciation of letters grew general. Modern diarists then appeared who were men about town, inconspicuous, living on the outskirts of the great world, but with keen humour, literary sense and a fondness for life. Harring- ton was one of a cultivated and even carping circle of crit- ics whose existence would have been impossible forty years earlier. Sir William Cornwallis is another example of the cultivated personality of his time, a dilettante with literary tastes, aiming to follow Montaigne. With intel- lectual curiosity, a wide culture and power of analysis, he has the modern spirit. The gap of centuries had been filled. Our pedigree of cultivation dates from such men far more than from higher genius. Although no sudden break with the past explains the new atmosphere, its transformation was no less complete. England could not boast of epistolary collections such as Italy or even France produced. No Bembo, no Tasso in England thought of collecting his letters for posterity, but certain of Sidney's deserve a high place if only for the manliness they breathe. The ability to write letters became part of an educa- tion. The well rounded personality long known in Italy entered henceforth into English life. Such was Sir Henry Wotton. His services to the state as a diplomat were val- uable. His poetic talent was more than that of a mere dilettante. As a letter writer he showed wit which marks the advance into modernity. He was interested in the arts. His achievement is far from great, but his cultiva- tion was considerable. ^ He is the modern man, fond of the pleasures of life, the round of country visits, of sport, and of social intercourse. With the cultivation of life came a response between writ- 340 TUDOR IDEALS ers and readers such as had before hardly existed. Others than noblemen became patrons of letters. The discovery of the world marked the discovery of its literature. Spen- ser could admire the imaginative talent of the Irish bards though he deplored their making heroes of thieves. Sid- ney, seeking literary example in his "Apology," no longer restrains his choice to antiquity but comments on the re- spect shown for poets in Turkey and among unlettered Indians. Puttenham with wide interest in letters singles out the "American, Perusine and the very Cannibal" who appreciate poetry. Daniel searching the globe to find examples to prove the superiority of melody over quantity, cites Turks, Slavonians, and Arabs, and men- tions China as the example of a land not barbarous where anapests and trochees were unknown. The world had been discovered not only for commerce and for power, but for letters. The modern conception of English life dates from Eliz- abeth. The real break with the medieval past had been effected less by the Wars of the Roses and the accession of the Tudors, than during the last half of the Sixteenth Century when the harvest was ripening in silence. This was in obedience to a frequent if usually unobserved his- toric law. The seeds of a great movement are sown nearly always in ground imperfectly prepared. The movement very quickly attains unexpected success because of the commanding position of its apostles. But if conditions are not ripe, an apparent reaction sets in which well-nigh effaces it. On the surface few traces are left, but below the ground the roots once planted spread in silence and years later appear again unexpectedly. It was thus with the influence of the Renaissance in England. It came as a fruit of foreign origin which grew only in a fertile soil. Then it disappeared and its traces seemed to vanish, till phoenix like, it rose once more above the surface with the genius of poets sprung from the people and the vast leaven of culture in the life of the nation. NOTES NOTES In this table are included only the principal refer- ences. The early printed books mentioned are all to be found in the British Museum. The manuscript diary of the French Ambassador de Maisse is in the library of the Ministry for Foreign Affairs in Paris. For the general history of the age in England the writer refers to the books of Professors Gairdner, Busch, Brewer, Fisher, Sir Sidney Lee and especially Prof. A. F. Pollard, to mention only the principal his- torians of the period from whose labours he has bene- fited. He wishes further to refer with gratitude to the valuable suggestions he has obtained from Dr. Burck- hardt's "Civilization of the Italian Renaissance." PART I Chapter I ^ Ital. Rel. 1500 Camden Soc, p. 34. 2 Reprinted in Tudor Tracts, Edit, by A. F. Pollard, p. 20. ^ Camden, Hist. Edit. 1635, p. 74. * Reprinted in the Appendix of the Chron. of Q. Jane, Camden Soc, pp. 86, sq. ^ Admonition to the Nobility and People of England, 1588, pp. 4, sq. ® Leicester's Commonwealth, pp. 124, sq. "> Ibid, p. 34. ^ A Conference about the Next Succession, N. D., p. 196. Chapter II 1 Memoirs, Edit. Paris, 1901, I, 195. 2 Utopia, Edit. Arber, p. 34. ' Marillac, p. 211. ^ Ibid, p. 211. ^ Sir T. Smith, p. 59. ^ Hentzner, p. 49. ^ Cavendish, (Kelmscott Edit.) p. 236. ^ Starkey, Dialogue, p. loi. ^Memoirs, p. 332. 343 344 NOTES . i«3i Henry VIII, ch. 8. " Reprinted in Somers Tracts, III, ser. I, p. 99. ^2 Cognet, Political Discourses, p. 83; Primaudaye, French Academy, p. 648. 13 Belloy, Apol. fro. Rege, Cap. 20. " Vide Th. Paynell, Dedication to Henry VIII of his transl. of Constan- tinus Felicius Durantinus, Conspiracy of Catiline. 15 Declaration of the end of Traitors, Sig B, 4. " Sermons, 1552, f. 88. 1^ Stubbes, Anat. of Abuses, II, pp. 17, 113. 1* Cooper, Admonitions, p. 156. " Edit. Dyce, p. 133. 2" Euphues, Edit. Arber, p. 261. 21 Arraignment of Paris, II, i. 22 Art of Poetrie, Edit. Arber, p. 66. Chapter III 1 Relazione Michele, /. 22. 2 Hooker, Eccl. Pol., Bk. VIII, Chs. 2, 3. Chapter IV 1 Ital. Rel., pp. 46, sq. 2 Cj. Dunbar, Works, pp. 136, 199, 203. ^ Cavendish, P- 33- * The Receiving of the Queen's Majesty into her City of Norwich, London, N. D. ^ Vide Churchyard, The Queen's Entertainment. ^ Latimer, Sixth Sermon, 1549, p. 181. '' Brynklow, p. 10. * Naunton, Frag. Reg., p. 20. 8 Somers Tracts, Edit. 1748, IV, 130. 10 De Maisse, Ms. Ministere AfF. Etrang, Paris, 1598,/. 228 V. 11 Harrington, Nug, Ant. I, Gj. 12 Camden, p. 391. 1* Naunton, p. 46. 1* Harrington, I, 67. " De Maisse,/. 212. 1^ Leicester's Correspondence, Camden Soc, p. 108. " Ibid., p. 279. 18 Ibid., p. 243. ^^ Ibid, p. 112. ^ Ibid., pp. 175, 240. 21 Letters of Eliz., Cam. Soc, p. 17. 22 De Maisse,/. 239, 243, 255, sq. 3isb. Chapter V iVen. Cal. II,No. 918. 2 Marillac, pp. 194, 371. 3 Bacon, Works, Edit. London, 1740, I, 607; II, 428, 441. * Camden, p. 536. 5 Spenser, Colin Clout, I, 69, sq. ^ Surrey, Works, p. LXI. '' Chron. Henry VIII, Edit. Hume, p. 60. NOTES 345 s Camden, p. 534- 9 Life and Times of Hatton, p. 45 8- , ■ rr- <-> • „j 10 In addition to Castiglione and Guazzo, the treatises of Guevara, Osorius and Sturmius should be read. 11 Art of Eng. Poes., II, Ch. 25. 12 Letter to Sidney, 14, Nov., IS79- " R. Greene, Quip for an Upstart Courtier. " Life of Sidney, p. 69. " Mother Hubbard's Tale, 752, sq., 773> J"?- 16 Life and Times of Hatton, pp. 210, 214. "b ra/ounba^r, Works II, 199, 206; Lyndsay, "Papyngo" and "Complaynt to the King," cf. also Francis Thynne and Barnfield. 19 Mother Hubbard's Tale, 11. 896, sq. Chapter VI 1 Epist., Edit. Nichols, I, 423, sq. 2 W. Thomas. See EUis Orig. Lett., 2d Sen II, 189, sq. '* ra?PHmaud\%, French Acad., p. 466; Cognet, p. 83; Blundevile, Counsels, 1570, Sig. 3 V. 6 Utopia, p. 62. 6 Sixth Sermon, 1549; p. 181. "> Guevara, Golden Book, Ch. 17. 8 Brewer, Henry VIII, I, 66. 9 Busch, England under the Tudors, pp. I33» J?- loMarillac, p. 128. 11 Bacon, I, 721, sq. 12 "Rede Me and be not Wroth, p. 59- " Tree of Commonwealth, p. 19. "The Ploughers, p. 28; Ascham, Scholemaster, p. 51. 15 Blundevile, Of Counsel, Sig D2, E4 v. 16 Harl. Misc. VII, 565- ^, ^ " Fide Grimaldus Goslicius; The Counsellor. 18 Bacon, Works, I, 606. Chapter VII 1 Comines, II, 4, sq. 2 Brewer, II, 38, sq. 3 Leic. Coir., p. I97- *Ven. Cal. Ill, No. 50. 6 Stow, Survey. Edit. Dent, p. l6l. 6 Friedmann, Anne Boleyn, I, 99. 7 Roper, p. S3' ^ 8 Marillac, pp. I9S> 206. 9 Crowley, passim. 10 Burnet Edit. 171 S» III» 197- ^ ; 11 Chron. Henry VIII, Edit. Hume, p. 163. 12 Leic. Commonwealth, pp. 86, Ii2. 13 De Maisse, Ms. Cit.,/. 23. "Castelnau, p. 116. i^Nug. Ant. I, 118, jg. 16 Leic. Corn, p. 112. "Hist., p. 118. ^346 NOTES 18 Walsingham to Sir T. Smith, 14 Sept. 72 Digges Compleat Ambassador, p. 284. i^Brewer, 1, 403. 20 Poems, Aid. Edit., p. 191. 21 Lit. Rem. Edw. VI, I, p. CXXVIII. 22 Life of Hatton, pp. 210, 214. 23 Camden, p. 225. Chapter VIII ^ Comines, II, 64. 2 Leic. Corn, p. 173. * French Acad., p. 417. * PoHtical Discourses, pp. 26, sq. ^ Battle of Alcazar, III, I, 163, sq. - ^Utopia, p. 137. ^ Languet, Apol. for Christian Soldiers, Transl. by H. P., London, 1588. * Tragedy of the Cardinal, 11. 240, sq. 3 The Nobles, Sig. Di. ver. 10 See Forneron, Phil. II, Vol. Ill, p. 228. 11 Chamberlain Letters, 3 Feb. 1600. 12 Reprinted in Somer's Tracts, Ilird Series, I, p. no. 13 Walsingham to Leicester, 8 Oct., 72 Digges Compleat Ambassador, p. 269. " Wals. to Leic, T. Smith, 2 Sept., 72 Digges, p. 239. 15 Wals. to Council, 24 Sept. 72; Digges, p. 257. 16 Letter to Wals., 19 Sept. 72; Digges, p. 250. " Council to Wals., 9 Sept. 72; Digges, pp. 246, sq. 18 Digges, p. 249. ^ c . 19 Justification of Eliz. (Cam. Soc), p. 129. 2" I'Estoile, Journal, III, 24, sq. 21 Wals. to Burleigh, 2 March, 1591; Digges, p. 173. 22 Letters of Eliz. to James VI, Cam. Soc. 1849, pp. 46, sq. 53 Essay, 46. Chapter IX 1 Sp. Cal. I, 178, sq. 2 Utopia, p. 81. 3 Lit. Rem. Edw. VI, II, 480, sq. ^ ^ Fide A Conference about the Next Succession, N. D. B L. Humphrey, Nobility, N. D. ^ 6 Fide T. Floyd, The Picture of a Perfect Commonwealth, London, 1600. .^'f Cognet, pp. 97, sq. ^ Dialogue, pp. 100, sq. 9 Ibid., p. 185. 1" Op. cit., p. 69. " Treatise Sig. D. VII; F. VII. 12 Ibid. Sig. H. See also G. Fenton, A Form of Christian Policy, 1594, p. 77. 13 Fide Hume Brown, Buchanan, pp. 286, sq. " Camden, p. 562. Chapter X 1 Ital. Rel., p. 36. 2 Roper, p. 16. 3 Merriman, Cromwell, I, 98. ^Marillac, p. 371. NOTES 347 ^ d'Ewes, Journal, Edit. 1693, p. 66. ^ Ibid., pp. 236, sq. ^ Noailles, Ambassades, III, 248. ^ Arber, Reprint of Register of the Stationers' Company, I, XXIX. -^Latimer, Edit. Arber, ist Serm., p. 23; and Seven Sermons, 1552,/. 25b. 1" Leic. Comm., pp. 196, sq. ^1 Blast of the Tempest, pp. 32, 50. ^2 An advertisement touching the controversies of the Church of England. ^^ The title of the book was "The Gulph Wherein England will be Swallowed by the French Marriage," 1581. Chapter XI 1 Roper, pp. 2, sq. ^ Spenser, Globe Edit., Present State of Ireland, p. 620. ^ Camden, p. 492. * Sir Wm. Cornwallis, Disc, on Seneca, Sig., P. 3, v, sq. ^ Lit. Rem. II, p. 526. * Works, p. 133. ^ Greville, Life, p. 53. * A Conference, pp. 38, 62. 9 Edw. II, I, IV, 287, sq. PART II Chapter III ^ Castelnau, p. 60. * Somer's, Tracts; 2d Collect. I, p. 67. ^ Cavendish, p. 149. * A Conference Pt. II, pp. 215, sq. ^ Frag. Reg., pp. 47, 66. 6 Works Edit. Oldys, VIII, p. 121. ^ Massacre of Paris, II, 39. 8 Battle of Alcazar, II, II, 69, sq. ^ Euphues and his England, p. 265. Chapter IV ^ Cf. B. de Logue, Discourses of War, Transl. by T. Eliot, 1591, pp. 59, sq. See also La Primaudaye, p. 314; Bryskett, pp. 70, sq. ^ Chamberlain Letters, pp. 54, 157. 3 Leic. Comm., p. 56. ^ Ibid., p. 36. Chapter V ^ Sermons, /. 1 10 V. Edit. 1571. ^ Dialogue bet. Experience and a Courtier, 11. 1069, sq. ' Lee, Shakespeare, p. 8. * Fiaje in Inglaterra, quoted by Forneron, Phil. II, I, 154. ^ Stubbes, I, 73. 8 I'Estoile, VII, 405. '' Harrison's England, I, 267, sq. 274. * Brantome, VII, 405. ^N. Breton Wit's Trenchman, 1597. 1" Itiner, in Shakespeare's Europe, Edit. 1903; p. 475. " Anat. of Abuses, I, 198. 348 NOTES Chapter VI 1 See Poggio, Letter, 29 Oct., 1420. ^ Leic. Comm., p. 104. ^ First Sermon, pp. 41, sq. * Simon Fish, p. 4. ^ Fide Wm. Roy, Rede me, p. 61. ® Vox Populi Vox Dei. Skelton's Works, Vol. II, pp. 369, sq. (Pseudo Skeltonian.) ^ Fide "Pleasant Poesye of Princelie Practise," II. 510, sq. * Vox Populi, Skelton, Vol. II, p. 372. ® Latimer, Sermons, Ed. 1591,/. 123. " Lever, p. yy, S. Fish, p. 52. ^1 Dialog., pp. 95, sq. ^^ Envoy to " Horse, Goose and Sheep," edit, by Furnivall, p. 40, 11. 598, sq. ^^ Crowley, pp. 87, sq. " Lit. Rem., pp. 482, sq. ^^ Anat. of Abus. 11, 33, sq. ^^ Toxophilus, p. 153. " John Bate, Dialogue bet. a Christian and an atheist, 1589, p. 160. Chapter VII ^ Order of Chivalry, Edit. F. S. Ellis, p. 99. ^ W. Patten, see Pollard's Tudor Tracts, pp. 102, 106. ^ Dialogue, p. 82. ^ Pastime of Pleasure, p. 29. 6 Works, III, 238. ^ Sat. of the Three Estates, 11. 4370, sq. '' Ibid., I. 3820. * Orpheus and Eurydice. * The Praise of the Age, Edit. T. Schipper, Vienna, 1902. ^° Passion of Christ. Chapter VIII ^ Memoirs, I, 195. ^ L. Humphrey, Sig. I, 5, sq. ^ Camden, p. iii. * Ibid., p. 200. ^ Busch, p. 283. " Starkey, Dial., pp. 109, sq. " Observations in a Libel, Works I, 520. ^ Fide Book of St. Albans, pp. 93, sq.; G. Markham, Gentl. Acad., p. 94, v. ^ Peacham, pp. 14, sq. ^^ Feme, pp. 90, s^. ^^ Sir Thomas Smith, Commonwealth, pp. 37, sq. ^^ Segar, p. 230; Feme, pp. 44, 50, sq. ^^ Present State of Ireland, p. 672'. " Segar, p. 123. '^ Starkey, pp. 189, sq. 1^ Latimer, The Ploughers, p. 28. " Scholem aster, p. 68. 1* Steel Glas, p. 62. ^^ Copley Letters, p. 18. ^° Letters, p. 20. NOTES 349 Chapter IX ^ This passage is cited by John Bossewell in the Works of Armory, Lond., 1572, /. 14, v., sq. 2 Rom. of the Rose, Kelmscott Edit., p. 265. ' C/. G. Douglas, Prologue to IV Book of Virgil, Ed. Small; Palace of Honour, I, p. 75; Henryson, Orpheus and Euridyce. * Tree of Comm,, p. 19. ^ For Italian influences in the theory of aristocracy, see writer's Ital. Ren. in Eng., pp. 61, sq. * Osorius, Eng. Transl., vide,f. 3/ v., 16 v./. 20. ^ Governour, II, p. 126. * Works I, 290. 9 Sig. G. VII. *" Works, p. 91. ^^ Vide, Scholemaster, pp. 51, sq. ^^ Counsels, 1570, Sig., p. I. " Cf. Feme, First Fruits,/. 36 v. ^^ Book of St. Albans, pp. 42, sq.; Juliana Berners, /. 49b., sq. Cf. also Leigh, "Accedens of Armory,"/. 2, v. sq. ^^ Christian PoHcy, p. 313. ^^ Works of Armory, 1572,/. 18. " R. Barret, The Theorike and Practike of Modern Wars, p. 13. ^^ Honor, Military and Civil, p. 270. ^* Baldwin, A Treatise of Moral Philosophy, /. 96, sq.; Bryskett, p. 5. 2" Epis. Dedicatory,/. 6 v. in Princess Elizabeth, a Godly Meditation, 1548. 2^ Cf. Tears of the Muses, 11. 80, sq. 22 Euphues, pp. 87, 190, j-^. ^^ Euphues and his Ephoebus, p. 135. Chapter X ^ Brewer, I, p. 64. 2 Scholemaster, p. 61. 3 Peacham, Comp. Gent., p. 31, and Preface. * Leicester to Walsingham, 10 April, 1586, Leic. Corr., p. 228. ^ Frag. Reg., p. 15. ^ Vide, Institution of a Gentleman, 1568. ^ Educ. of Children, Sig. E 3, v., sq. * Elyot I, 172, sq.; Ascham, Scholemaster, p. 64; Toxophilus; p. 37. ^ Queen Elizabeth Acad., p. 10. Chapter XI ^ See Sir H. Knyvett, Defence of the Realm, 1596; Starkey, pp. 186, sq. 2 Vide Marillac, p. 88. ^ Ascham, Toxophilus, p. 36. * Monluc, Commentaires, I, 322. * Vide T. Churchyard, Reprinted in Tudor Tracts, p. 327. ^ Vide J. Fortescue in Shak. Eng. I, 126, to whom the writer is indebted for many of the facts in this chapter. ^ Leic. Corn, p. 392. * Sir T. Smythe, Discourses, Proem. ^ Pres. State of Ireland, p. 661. 10 Corr., p. 428. 3 so NOTES "Walsingham to Sir T. Smith, II, Jan., 1572; Digges, p. 307. See also Fenton, Letters, p. 429. 12 Hist., p. 67. 13 Chamberlain, Letters, 17 May, 1602. " Honor, Military and Civil, p. 117. 1^ D. Digges, Paradoxes, pp. 96, 109. 1* Frag. Reg., p. 329. " Life and Times of Hatton, App. XXXVII. 18 Letter, 15 Feb., 1578. PART III Chapter I 1 Dial., p. 9, see also, p. 52. 2 Utopia, p. 72. 2 Vide J. Proctor's account of Wyatt's Rebellion, 1555 Tudor Tracts, pp. 232, sq. * Sir J. Smythe, Discourses, Proem. ^ Starkey, p. 43. ^ Cornwallis, Essay, Sig. K 7, vers. 8. ^Anatomizing, Somers Tracts, IV, 389, sq. Chapter II 1 Cavendish, p. 274. 2 W. Baldwin; in Mirror for Magistrates, II, 203. 3 Works, p. 8. ^ Utopia, pp. Ill, sq.; see pp. 90, sq. ^ Vide Discourse of the Commonweal, pp. 58, sq. ^Interlude of Gentylness and Nobylyte, circa, 1535, pp. 25, 50. ^ De Inv., Trans, by T. Langley, /. XXIX. 8 Vide Seven Sermons, 1552,/. 6,/. 10, etc. ^ Strype, Mem. of Cranmer, I, 127. 1" Pollard, England under Somerset, p. 223. 11 Humphrey, Sig. 2 VII, sq. 12 Vide Gwillim, Display of Heraldrie. 13 Stubbes, Anat. of Ab. I, 29, 43. " Life and Times of Hatton, pp. 227. 1^ Fulke Greville, p. 24, sq. 1^ Poem on Cromwell; Mirror for Magistrates, II, 506, sq. Chapter III 1 Paston Letters, I, 1 10. 2 Ibid., I, 175. 3 Prologue to his Cato, 1483. * Henry Binnyman, Dedication of his translation of Appian, 1578. ^ Discourses on Livy, III, 41. * Surrey, p. 60. ^ Lever, Sermons, p. I3S- * Utopia, p. 13. 8 Starkey, pp. 2, 7. 1" Preface to "Knowledge which maketh a wise man," 1534. " Poynet; Sig. D, VII, see also Sig. E, VII; Sir John Hayward wrote on this subject. 12 Steel Glas, p. 61. NOTES 3SI 1^ The Mansion of Magnanimity, Sig. E. " Cornwallis, Sig. K, 8 v., sq. i*An Apologia of the English Seminaries,/. 95. , ^ ,. ^ o- n le Vide The Free School of War. Translated from the Italian, 1625, Sig. H, IV, sq. "Works, VII, 232. 18 Battle of Alcazar, II, II, 32. 19 /^jif "The Admonition to the Nobility and People of England, 1588. 20 Praise of Solitarinesse, 1577, p. 85, v. 21 The Martyrdom of Mr. Campion and Mr. Sherwin. Anon. 1581, Sig. C, 11, V, J?. 22 R. Crompton, The Mansion of Magnanimity, Sig. K, 3 v. 23 Correspondence, p. 10. 2« "A Letter concerning the rendering of Daventine, Antwerp, 1587. 25 R. Crompton, Mansion of Magnanimity, 1599, Sig. G, I, v. 26 Last Fight of the Revenge, Edit. Arber, p. 30. 27 Ibid., p. 91. 28 Leic. Corn, p. 150. 29 Journal,/. 417. 30 Chamberlain, Letters, p. 150. " Chamberlain, 9 Aug., 1599. Chapter IV 1 Apologie, /. 34. 2 Pollard, Henry VII, Sources, III p. 321. 3 Cavendish, p. 277. * Utopia, p. 142. *Marillac, pp. 114, 208. 6 Wm. Roy, Dialogue between a Father and his Son, p. 69. ' Sermons, 1552,/. 132 b. 8 John Bale, The Examination of Ann Askew, N. D. 9 Vide Sermon preached at Stamford. 1" Sermons, i$'/i,f. 96. " C. Agrippa, Variety of Sciences, /. 79, sq. 12 De Maisse, Journal,/. 283. " Bayne, Anglo-Roman Relations Oxford, 1913, p. i, sq. 1* Leicester's Commonwealth, p. 20. 15 Hist., p. 6. 1* A Conference, p. 205. " Eccles. Polit., Bk. VIII, Chaps, i, 2, 3. 18 Op. cit., Bk. V, Ch. XXX. 19 Op. cit., Bk. V, Ch. LXXXI. 20 Apology, Pt. IV, p. 85 (Cassel's Edit.). 21 Life and Times of Hatton, p. 59. 22 Letter to Euphues, p. 194. 23 See James Lancaster, Journey to Brazil, 1594. Chapter V 1 Cavendish, p. 273. 2 Brewer, II, 451. 8 More, Dialogue Concerning Heresies. * Dialoge, p. 19. 6 Ibid., p. 135. . ^., ^ . ^ , 6 J Olde, A short description of Antichrist, N. D., circa ISSS>/- 3o, 43- 352 NOTES ^ Correspondence, p. 44. 8 Letter to Cecil, Works II, 447, sq. ^Quoted in Forneron, Philip II, Vol. II, 12. 10 Op. ciU, pp. 88, sq. " For. Cal., 1561-1562, Nos. 734-735, quoted by Bayne, p. 140. 12 Leicester's Commonwealth, p. 222. 13 1'Estoile Diary, IV, p. 17. 1* Apologie, /. 82 V. 1^ Pres. St. of Ireland, p. 679. 1^ Cited by M. Hume, Two English Queens, p. 436. " Advice to Queen Elizabeth, Harl. Misc. VII, 56, sq. 18 Digges, p. 91. 1^ Leic. Comm., pp. 14, sq. ^ Reprinted in Pollard's Tudor Tracts, p. 184. 21 Anat. of Abuses, I, 130. 22 Ant. Gilby a pleasant Dialogue, Repr. by Arber, Martin Marprelate, p. 34. 23 Chamberlain's Letters, 15 Oct., 1600, p. 91. Chapter VI 1 The Ploughers Edit. Arber, p. 25. 2 Cf. Discourse of the Commonweal, p. 133. 3 History, p. 90. See also Leic. Comm., p. 20. ^ Manningham's Diary, pp. no, 156. Cj. Shaks., Twelfth Night, II, III. s Hooker, Chap. Ill, etc. 8 Vide A Conference, Pt. II, 242. ^ Nug. Ant., II, 9. *Udall, Diotrephes Edit. Arber, p. 12. ^ Cf. Primaudaye, French Acad. 216. 1° Cf. G. Whetstone, Mirror for Magistrates of Cities, Sig. G. IV b. " Christian PoHcy, Ed. 1574, p. 142. Chapter VII 1 Utopia, p. 197. 2 Dialog. Concermng Heresies, Works, p. 131. 3 Dialogue between John Bon and Master Parson, Tudor Tracts, p. 161. * Second Sermon to the King 1549, p. 54. See, also, p. 121. * Ascham, Scholemaster, p. 82. ^ Harrison; I, 274. ^ A Conference, p. 208, sq. * Hooker, Works II, 605, sq. s Dom. Cal., 1601, 3, p. 23. 1° Digges, p. loi. " A Conference, Pt. II, 253. ^"^ Leic. Comm., p. 20. 13 Dom. Cal. Addend. 1566-1579, p. 439. " Admonitions (Ed. Arber), pp. 15, 27. 1^ Vide Martin Marprel., Controv., p. 58. i« Pp. 87, sq. " Kyd., Edit. Boas Introd., p. LXXI, sq. 18 Vide Lyly, Euphues and his Ephoebus, p. 140. " Camden, p. 475. 2" Discourse, p. 129. NOTES 353 Chapter VIII 1 Vide Confessio Amantis, Prolog. 12 and 34. 2 Dialogue between Experience and a Courtier 1. S3bo. 3 Cf. Boaistuau, Rule of the World, Englished by John Alday, Sig. G, III, sq. * Utopia, p. 132. 6 Ibid. 6 C/. Brantome VI, 18. . , . t^ „ , t- j t- ^ „ -,-,r^ 7 Vide Churchyard's account reprinted in Pollard, Tudor Tracts, p. 329. s Odet de Selve, pp. 394» -f?- , . -^ „ ., ^ ^ t^ . r.^ ., ,n 9W Patten, account reprinted in Pollard s Tudor iracts, pp. 45» ^1- nThe"spanfeolfnie,Transl. by M. M. S., London, 1583. To the Reader. 12 Fynes Moryson, Shak. Europe, pp. 473, sq. 13 Ibid., p. 259. Chapter IX 1 Utopia, pp. 37» 45- ^Starkey, pp. II9> I94- 3 Perlin, p. 28. ~~^4 Pres. State of Ireland, p. 618. 6 Brynklow, p. 27. 6 Anat. of Abuses II, 12. 7 Seven Sermons, Edit., 1572,/- I3 b. 8 Fenton, Christian PoHcy, p. 189. . o c- n TT ,, r„ 9 FjW^ The Martyrdom of M. Campion, M Sherwin, 1581, big. D, 11, v., sq 10 Vide Machyn's Diary, pp. 59, sq., for detads of the execution of Sir 1 . Wyatt the Younger. 11 Hist., p. 308. 12 Edward I, I,. U. \i6, sq. 13 Paston Letters, letter 861. 14 Vide Boke of Curtesye, Early Eng. Text Soc, p. 30. IB Bishop Fisher, I, 297. 16 Cavendish, p. 207. I'' Stow, p. 81. 18 Black Letter Ballads and Broadsides, p. 228. 19 First Sermon, 1549, p. 91- 2" Sermon to the Ploughers, p. 23. 21 Works, p. 9; Simon Fish, p. 79. 22 Cf. The Governour, p. 145. , o- ^^ ^ "-r r 23 (Ven. Cal. II, 1287). Cf. Wyatt's epitaph on Sir T. Gravener lo favour truth, to further right, the poor's defence," p. 235. 2* Lever, Sermons, pp. 64, 69, 109. 25 Brynklow, p. 52. • , n^r 28 Ibid., Complaynt of Roderick Mors. 27 Latimer, First Serm. before the King, p. 38^ 28 Vide Nichols, Lit. Rem. Ed. VI, 1, CLAAA. 29 Ibid., I, CLXXXI, sq. 30 F. 106 v. 31 Vide Fenton, Christian Policy, p. 173. 32 Anat. of Abuses, I, 59- Chapter X 1 S. Gosson, School of Abuse, p. 34. 354 NOTES Chapter XI 1 Paston Lett. No. 97. ^ Ibid., p. 94. ^ Roper, p. 2; z'Jif^' Ital. Rel., p. 24. * Ital, Rel., p. 27. ^ Brynklow, p. 18. ^ Starkey, p. 186. ^ Roper, p. 2. 8 Vide C. L. Powell, English Domestic Relations, N. Y. 1917. 3 First Sermon, p. 35; see also Fourth Sermon, p. 128. 1° Camden, p. 55. 11 Ascham, Scholemaster, p. 50. 12 Satire of the Three Estates, 11. 3931, sq. 13 fide Life and Times of Hatton, p. 3 14. PART IV Chapter I ^ Utopia, p. 122. 2 Letter, 1 1 Feb., 1574. ^ Letter, 24 July, 1574. ^ Dedication to his translation of Guicciardini. ^ W. C, Pref. to Polimanteia, 1595. fi Letter-Book, p. 86. ^ Ibid., p. 282. ^ Defence, Edit. G. Gregory Smith Eliz. Critical Essays, II, 384. ^ Dialogue between Experience and a Courtier 1. 549. M Bk. Ill, Ch. 4. 11 Discourse, Edit. G. Gregory Smith, Eliz. Critical Essays, I, 241. 1^ Lois le Roy, Variety of Things, p. 108; Eng. trans., 1594. Chapter II 1 Garland of Laurel. Cf. S. Hawes, Pastime of Pleasure, 2 Edit., Small, IV, p. 223. ^ Cf. Languet to Sidney, 19 Nov., 1573. ^ Hakluyt Dent Edit, II, 256. ^ I Tamb. I, II, 202. ® Camden, p. 221. ^ Letter, 15 Feb., 1578. Chapter III ^ Henryson, The Reasoning betwixt Death and Man, p. 27. 2 Roper, p. 39. 3 F. Q. I, IX, 40. ^ Chron. of Henry VIII, p. 70. « Ibid., p. 86. ^Harl. Misc. Ill, 115. ^ Brantome, Dames, p. 432. * Camden; 549; Chamberlain, 24 Feb., 1600. * G. Whetstone, Censure of a Loyal Subject, Sig. B, I, sq. 1" Sermons, p. 200. " Lit. Rem. I, CLVII. NOTES 3SS Chapter IV ^ Toxophilus, p. 157. ^Utopia, p. 112. * Stubbes, Anat. of Ab., p. 178. Chapter V ^ Cf. Hentzner, pp. 54, 83. 2 Starkey, Dialogue, p. 176. * Wyatt, Poems, p. 193. Cf. La Noue, Discourses, Eng. trans., p. 135. Chapter VI ^ For a treatment of this subject see T. A. Gotch, Early Ren. Arch, in Eng., Lond., 1901. ^Archaeol. XII, 381, jg^. ^ Colyn Clout, I, 945, sq. ^ Governour, II, 23. 6 Ibid., I, 43, sq. ^ Sir G. Buck, App., p. 986 to Stow, Chronicle Edit., 161 5. ^ Cf. R. Lincke, The Fountain of Ancient Fiction, Lond., 1599, Trans, from the Italian, on the artistic representation of the statues of ancient gods. ® Poems, p. 214. * Reprinted in Tudor Tracts, p. 444. 1° Itinerary, p. 421. 11 Wint. Tale, V, 11. ^2 Preface to his translation of Lomazzo, 1598. One of the first accounts of Italian painters in English, may be gleaned from the translation of Louis le Roy, "Vanity of Things" published in 1594. ^' Palladis Tamia, pp. 287, sq. ^* Seventh Sermon, p. 186. 1^ Letter published by La Ferriere Le /(5»»« Siecle et les Valois, p. 300. ^^The Art of Drawing. The first English book on drawing is probably "A very proper treatise. The art of limning," London, Rich. Totell, 1573, bound with Bossewell, " Works of Armory and intended mainly for heraldic art." ^' Preface to translation of Lomazzo. Chapter VII 1 Pollard, Henry VII, Sources III, 168. ^ Dreme, 1. 660. ^ Admiral de France,/. 73, p. 12. * Discourse of the Commonwealth, 1581, p. 94. * Hist., p. 48. 6F.Q.,IV,XI,2i. 7 Two Gent. ofVer., I, IIL ^ Vide "Journey of Sir H. Gilbert" and "A Welcome Home to Frobisher." ^ Hentzner, p. 46. 10 Hakluyt, I, 267. 11 Ibid.y V, 332. 12 Camd. Misc., V, 27. 1^ Bacon's Works, II, 424, sq. '* Discourse in Praise of Queen Eliz., I, 501, see also Observations on a Libel, I, 514. 1* Hentzner, p. 46. 3s6 NOTES i« Hakluyt, II, 221. " Reprinted in Beazley Voyages, II, 151, sq. 18 Cf. Cesare Federigo's travels in India, London, 1588, Pietro MafFei, Japan. 1' Fide Beste, Preface to Frobisher's Voyages, 1578, Sig. A. III. 20 Segar, pp. 58, sq. 21 Camden, p. 491. ^^Greville, p. 112. 23 FtW^ Hakluyt, VI, 116. 2* Fide John Brereton, Relation of the Discovery of Virginia, London, 1602, P- 19- 25 Bacon's Works, I, 700, 725. 2«Epist. Ded., 2d Edit. 1599, I, pp. 39, sq. Chapter VIII ^ L. Bryskett, Discourse of Civil Life. 2 The Moral Philosophy of the Stoics, Trans, by Thomas James, London, 1598- 3 Sir T. Elyot "Of the Knowledge which Maketh a Wise Man." 1533. ^The Counsellor, p. 13. ^ Pref. to first edit. 8 Anat. of Abuses, II, 53, sq. ' Present State of Ireland, p. 628. * Ibid., p. 633. ^ Cavendish, p. 227. 1° See Chapter on Superstition in Shakespeare's England to which acknowledg- ment is made. " Martin Marprelate, p. 58, edit. Arber. 12 Harrington, Nug. Ant., I, 268. Chapter IX ^ Thomas, Pilgrim, p. 6. Nicander Nicaeus, Cam. Soc, II, p. 9, Ital. Rel., pp. 20, 23. 2 Chron. Edit. Whitbley, I, 154. ^ Nicander Nicaeus, II, p. 9. * J. Proctor in Tudor Tracts, pp. 209, sq., 237, 254. ^ Dialogue, pp. 122, sq. ^ Camden, p. 233. '' A conference, Pt. II, 224. * Fynes Moryson, p. 474. ' d'Ewes,. Journals, pp. 508, sq. 1° Busch, p. 239. 1^ Pres. St. of Ireland, p. 629. 12 Fynes Moryson, p. 196. 13 Solon, his Follie. 1* Letter to Sir T. Hoby, 16 July, 1557, printed at the end of the Courtier, 1561, Edit. 1* Fide Toxophilus. 18 Hall was criticised for the "indenture EngUsh" and "inkhorn terms" of his Chronicle. Scholemaster, p. iii. 1^ Leland, Laborious Journey, Sig. C, IV. 18 Letter Book, pp. 65, sq. NOTES 357 i« Sig. I, 8, V. 2»V. I, p. III. ^^ Epistle on the Valueing of the EngHsh Tongue. Greg. Smith, Op. Cit., II, 28s, sq. 2^ Polimanteia, Sig. R, 2 V. ^' General Censure, 1589. See also Introd. to Greene's Menaphon. ^* Corn. Agrippa, Vanity of Science, Eng. transl., pp. 14, sq. ^5 Letter to Sidney, 28 Jan., 1574. ^ Grammatica Anglicana, followed by a Chaucerian Dictionary, Camb., IS94 by P. G. Chapter X ^ St. Pap. Ill, 240, cited by Brewer I, 315. 2 Somerset's Epistle, 1548. Early Eng. Text Soc. 1872. Pollard's Prot. Somerset, pp. 148, sq. ^ Camden, p. 197. * Works, Edit. Grosart, I, 287. ^ Beazley, II, 215. flHakluyt, III, 150. ^Nicholas Denisot was tutor to the daughters of the Protector General, and Jerome Colas teacher to the children of Jane Countess of Southampton. ® Among the little known ones may be mentioned the Vocabularium Anglicis et Gallicis Verbis Scriptum, 1530. Coll. Baroness James de Rothschild, Paris, and also Gabriel Meurier, Traite pour apprendre a parler franf ais et anglois, Rouen, 1563, intended especially for commercial use "puisque on parle fran9ais a la cour d' Angleterre. ' Heir follows testament and complaynt of our Soverane lorde's . . . Im- prented at the command and expenses of Maister Sammuel Jascvy in Paris, 1558. His Dreme was also printed in Paris at the same date, and both appeared at Rouen in the same year. See Lyndsay's Works, Ed. Laing, III, 269. 1" Verses in English and Scottish were printed by Charles Utenhove in com- memoration of the death of Henry II. 11 Introd. to Greene's Menaphon. *^ Holinshed, p. 97. " Fide Gabriel Harvey Letterbook, p. 98. " Euphues and his Ephoebus, p. 152. See the writer's "Italian Renaissance in England," Chapter on The Italian Danger, etc. Chapter XI 1 Bale, Edit. Leland, 1549, Sig. G. III. 2 Ascham, Scholemaster, p. 136. ^ Harrison, I, 78. ^ Sermon at Paul's Cross, p. 120. ^ Sermons Ed. Arber, p. 41. ^ Harrison, I, 77, sq. '' Stubbes, Anatomy, II, 20. * Leic. Comm., p. 99. ^ Letterbook, p. 91. 1" La Cena dei Ceneri, Edit., Lagarde, p. 176. ""Academiae Cantabrigiensis Lachrymae." Equites D. PhiHppi Sidnsei, Oxford, 1587. 12 Harvey, Letterbook, p. 78. 3S8 NOTES Chapter XII ^ Paston Letters, Edit. Gairdner, Intro., I, 117. 2 Sir Wm. Forrest, II, 238, sq. ^ Christian Policy, pp. 191, sg., edit. 1574. *Anat. of Abuses, II, 21. * Chamberlain, Letters, 4 Nov., 1602. * Ellis, Orig. Lett., p. 67. 'A. Flemming, Panoply of Epistles, 1576. Wm. Fulwood, The Enemy of Idleness, 1593. Wits Theatre of the Little World, compiled by Robert Abbott, London, 1599. INDEX INDEX Adams, WilHam, 313 Agrippa, Cornelius, 161 Alba, Duchess of, 127 Aldines, 318 Allen, Cardinal, 7, 92, 190-7, 216, 280 Alva, Duke of, 215 Anjou, Duke of, 218, 302 Aretine, 315, 333 Ariosto, 261, 306 Aristotle, 79, 160, 174, 322 Arundel, Lord, 206 Ascham, Roger, 48, 159, 163, 249, 265, 305, 312, 320 sq., 338 Askew, Anne, 204 Atchelow, Thomas, 306 Audeley Sir T. 59 Ayala, 76 Aylmer, 209 Babington, 235, 264 Bacon, 4, 40 sq., 47 sq., 54 sq., 69, 90, 95, 115, 132, 152, 199, 213, 223, 250, 261 sq., 277, 282, 292, 298, 312, 322 sq., 33Ij338 Bainham, James, 211 Baldwin, H., 160 Bale, John, 17, 161, 306 Ballard, 264 Bancroft, Richard, 222 Barckley, Sir Richard, 229, 280 Barlow, Jerome, 89 Barnfield, Richard, 260, 296 Barton, Elizabeth, 282 Bate, John, 227 Bayne Roger, 192, 280 Beale, Dr., 300 Beaton, Cardinal, 70 Becon, Richard, 303 Belloy, 17 Bembo, Cardinal, 305, 339 Bergues, de, 213 Berners, Dame Juliana, 125, 160 Berri, Due de, 265 Berquin, 127 Berthelet, 88 Beste, 195 Bettes, John, 275 Bilney, 204, 235 Biron, Marshal, 128 Blundevile, 159 Bodenham, Captain, 286 Bodin, 256 Bodley, Sir Thomas, 309 Boles, P., 71 Boleyn, Anne, 6 sq., 22 sq., 67, 85 sq., 115 sq., 126, 152, 247, 263, 313 Bossewell, 160 Bourbon, Nicholas, 314 Bourke, Ulich, 303 Bowes, Sir, Jerome, 259 Brandon, Gregory, 153 Brantome, 191 Breughel, 231 Brian, Alexander, 235 Brissac, Marshal de, 213 Bruno, Giordano, 280, 322 Brynklow, Richard, 17, 133, 182-4, 234-7. 325 Bryskett, L., 160, 279 Buchanan, T., 17, 70, 82, 213, 253 Buckhurst, Lord, 338 Buckingham, Duke of, 5, 42, 53, 57, 61, 66, 85, 117, 150, 163 Buckle, 81 Bude, 312 Burgundy, Duke of, 11 Burleigh, Lord (see alsoW. Cecil), 55, 72, 92, 96, 115, 138, 19s, 212, 217, 267, 276 Cabot, J., 287 Caius, 307 Calvin, 198 Camden, William, 60, 207, 235, 289, 307»3i2 Campion, Father, 193, 235 Campion, Jasper, 289 Carew, 306 Carhill, Christopher, 297 Carleton, 227 Castello, A. di, 47 Castelnau, 16 Castiglione, 158, 273 Cavendish, Sir Charles, 120 361 362 INDEX Cavendish, Thomas, 28, 116, 295 Caxton, 144, 187, 225, 316 Cecil, Sir Robert, 302 Cecil William (see also Lord Burleigh), 24>3S. 59.116,152 Chaloner, Sir Thomas, 213, 271 Chamberlain, T., 156 Chantonnay, 170 Charles the Bold, 42 Charles I, 19 Charles V, 257 Charles IX, 72 sq. Chaucer, 157, 258, 304 Cheke, Ann, 126 Cheke, Sir John, 88, 205, 338 Cheke, Sir Thomas, 306 Chieregati, 39 Cholmeley, Richard, 227 Churchyard, Thomas, 174, 336 Clanrickard, Earl of, 303 Cleves, Ann of, 126 Cobham, Elizabeth, 249 Cognet, 69, 213 Coke, T., 306 Colet, 201, 246, 312 Coligny, 72 Colonna Vittoria, 129 Columbus, 286 sq. Comines, P. de, 11, 47, 150 Cooper, Thomas, 17 Cope, William, 281 Copley, Sir Thomas, 155, 193, 212 Cornwallis, Sir W., 75, 190, 280, 339 Cotton, G., 48 Cotton, Sir Robert, 309 Cox, Samuel, 59 Cranmer, Archbishop, 183 Cranmer, G., 226 Croke, 48 Crompton, R., 17, igo Cromwell, Thomas, 5, 39 sq., 42, 49, 52 sq., 58, 88 sq., 117, 120, 243 Crowley, 97, 159, 182-4, 237. 3 25 Dacres, Lord, 65, 117 Daniel, Samuel, 257, 306, 312, 340 Dante, 157, 225 Darcy, Lord, 117, 187 Darell, Wild, 122 d'Aubigne, 48 Davison, 35,74 deJuUo, 122 Dekker, 90 de la Popeliniere, 286 "de Maisse, 36, 195, 206 Derby, Lord, 226, 235 de Selve, 232 De Soto, 229 Devonshire, Marquess of, 117 Dorset, Marquess of, 163, 170 Doughty, 260 Douglas, 145 Douglas, Gawain, 147, 157, 257-9, 265, r^ 304 . Drake, Sir Francis, 62, 107, 238, 257, 260, 291 sq., 297, 334 Drayton, 186, 297 Du Bartas, 48 Du Bellay, 305 sq. Dudley, 40, 53, 77, 158 Du Ferrier, 72 Dunbar, 85 Duns Scotus, 320-2 Du Vair, 280 Dyer, Sir Edward, 281, 337 Edward I, 235 Edward II, 15, 29 Edward IV, 4, 11, 56, 66 Edward VI, 7, 25, 31, 48, 78 sq., 95, 105, 137, 163, 200, 205, 237 sq., 264, 301 Egmont, 59 Eliot, John, 314 Elizabeth, Queen, 7, 10, 15 sq., 19, 25, 28-32 sq., 42, 48, 52, 57, 60, 67 sq., 83, 88 sq., 93 sq., 113, 116 sq., 125-8, 132-7 sq., 150 sq., 164-9, 173 sq., 184 sq., 192 sq., 198 sq., 204 sq., 212-5 sq., 221 sq., 233, 243, 250-9, 289 sq., 296, 301 sq., 340 Elizabeth of York, 4 Ely, Bishop of, 25 Elyot, Sir Thomas, 51, 79, 158 sq., 165, 190, 237, 272, 326, 336 Empson, 40 Erasmus, 47, 78, 127, 181, 201, 231, 246, 259, 318 sq. Essex, Lord, 40-2, 55, 71, 92 sq., 96, 120 sq., 195, 219-222, 263, 292, 337 Essex, Lady, 122 Estienne, Henri, 314, 318 Exeter, Duke of, 11 Exeter, Lord, 66 Falstaf, Sir John, 245 Fenton, Geoffrey, 160, 224, 256, 326 Ferdinand of Aragon, 5, 76 Feme, 160 Ferrara, Cardinal of, 214 INDEX 363 Fish, Simon, 88, 133-5, 237. 325 Fisher, Cardinal, 87, 96, 117, 159, 178, 187, 203, 237 Fitz Patrick, 303 Fletcher, Giles, 295 Forest, Father, 204 Forrest, Sir William, 134, 326 France, Queen of, 247 Francis I, 31, 58, 220, 272 Franco, Veronica, 243 Frederick II, 217 Frobisher, 195, 257 Gaguin, 307 Gardner, 25 Garthe, Richard, 281 Gascoigne, G., 147, 155, 161, 233, 275, 305,314,337 Gascoigne, Sir W., 245 Gaveston, P., 15 Gawdy, Philip, 291 Gilbert, 279 Gilbert, Sir Humphrey, 166, 257, 262, 291 Giustiniani, 272 Golding, Arthur, 222, 329 Googe, B., 161 Goslicius, Grimaldus, 81, 281 Gosson, Stephen, 147 Gower, 230 Granville, Cardinal, 213 Greene, R., 18, 91, 315, 322, 334 Grenville, Sir Richard, 122, 148, 194, 260 Gresham, 60 Greville, Fulke, 280, 337 Grey, Lady Jane, 1 16, 248, 263 Grey, Lord Leonard, 117 Grey, Lord, 170 Grocyn, William, 317 Guicciardini, 69 Guise, Duke of, 55, 'j'j, 119, 232 Haddon, Walter, 326 Hakluyt, 281-6, 292 sq. Hales, John, 184, 190 Hall, 28, 300 Harrington, Sir J., 60, 223 Harriott, 228 Harrison, T., 128, 134-6, 306 Harvey, 279 Harvey, Gabriel, 281, 305, 322 sq. Haselton, Richard, 293 Hatton, Sir Christopher, 32, 40-2 45, 59, 143, 184, 209, 336 Hawes, Stephen, 146 Hawkins, 238, 291-3 sq., 334 Hawkwood, Sir J., 173 Haydocke, Richard, 275 sq. Heneage, Sir T., 35 Henry IV, 211 Henry IV, of France, 35, 198, 217 Henry VI, 48, 62, 187, 199 Henry VII, 4 sq., 9 sq., 13, 20 sq., 26- 8, 38, 47, 51 sq., 64 sq., 76, 84-8, 95 sq., 103, 133, 146, 150-5, 168, 235, 246 sq., 286 sq., 296 Henry VIII-X, 5 sq., 10-18, 21-8 sq., 33. 39. 47 sq-. SI sq., 65 sq., 71-8, 86 sq., 108, 163-9, 173, 184-9, 200- S, 220, 233, 247 sq., 259, 272-8, 299, 303-5, 310, 314, 325 Henry, Prince, 5 Henryson, 147, 157 Henslowe, 334 Hentzner, 136 Herbert, Sir William, 233 Hersey, Lord, 117 Hertford, Lord, 138, 232 HilHard, Nicholas, 275 Holbein, 271-4 Holinshed, 93, 128, 238 Homer, 261 Hooker, Richard, 207 sq., 226 Hooper, Bishop, 249 Hovel, Nicholas, 276 Howard, Katherine, 40, 87, 115, 263 Howard, Lord, 194 Huguenots, 92 Humphrey, Duke, 28, 317 Humphrey, Lawrence, 159, 184, 315 Huntington, Lord, 236 Huntley, Lord, 144 Hussey, Lord, 187 Isabella d'Este, 39 Ivan the Terrible, 259 Jackman, Charles, 293 James IV, 18, 48, 144 James VI, 35, 74, 223, 284, 304, 3 14 Jesuits, 92, 313 Jewell, Bishop, 209 Jonson, Ben, 335 Juana, Mad, 246 Julius II, Pope, 191 Katherine of Aragon, 5, 14, 26, dj, 86 sq., 199, 246 Kempe, W., 165 364 INDEX Kennedy, 85, 147 Kenys, Lawrence, 296 Kett, Francis, 228 Keys, 248 Kildare, Earl of, 117 Kitson, Sir Thomas, 143 Knox, John, 70, 90, 124 sq., 130, 244 Knyvett, Sir H., 171 Kyd, T., 228 Lambarde, William, 93 Lambert, John, 200 La Mothe Fenelon, 314 Languet, Hubert, 44, 174, 232 sq., 255 sq., 307 LaNoue, 191, 214, 232 La Primaudaye, 69, 314 Las Casas, 233 Latimer, Hugh, 17, 49, 53, 62, 124, 133 sq., 183, 204, 221-6, 235-7, 247, 264,275,321 Lauder, William, 82 Leicester, Lord, 8, 16, 35, 40, 55-7, 60, 69, 120, 133, 150, 156, 163, 169, 171, 195, 206, 227, 322 Leigh, 160 Leland, J., 318 Le Roy, Loys, 314 Lever, T., 182-4, 237, 321 Lilly, W., 320 Linacre, Thomas, 317, 321 Lluyd, Humphrey, 307 Locke, Mrs. 129 Lodge, Thomas, 90, 282 Lopez, Dr., 71 Louis XI, 52, 62 Lupset, 184 Luther, 198, 203, 211, 226, 298 Lydgate, 136, 146, 306 Lyly, 46, 119, 129, 162, 210, 250, 315 Lyndsay, Sir David, 70, 85, 124, 146 sq., 230, 249, 257, 281-6, 306, 314 Mac GilHphraddin, 303 Machiavelli, 9, 49, 188 Machyn, Henry, 85 Mac Sweeny, 303 Maitland of Lethington, 193 Major, William, 17, 82 Malatesta, 261 Malory, Sir T., 144, 225 Manningham, 251 Mantuanus, 328 Margaiet of Burgundy, 4, 125 Marillac, 31, 59 Markham, Gervase, 148, 160, 195 Marlowe, Christopher, 8, 15, 18, 29, 98, 119, 186, 228, 262, 322, 330-7 Marot, Clement, 126 Martin Marprelate, 91, 222, 334 Mary, Queen, 6 sq., 27, 31, 57-9, e^, 89 sq., 125 sq., 137, 170, 204, 215, 289, 301, 320 Mary Stuart, 6, 16, 59, 73 sq., 90, 129, 216 sq., 260-3 Mason, Sir John, 120 Matthew, Sir Toby, 280 Mayne, Cuthbert, 215 Medici, Catherine de', 44, 72 Melancthon, 88 Mendoza, 216 Meres, Francis, 275, 306 Michelangelo, 274 sq., 298 Michele, 24 Monchrestien, 314 Montague, Lord, 117, 206 Montaigne, 339 Montesquieu, 159 Montmorency, Floras de, 213 Moray, Regent, 227 More, Sir Thomas, 13, 17, 27, 45-9, 57 sq., 68, TJ sq., 85 sq., 94 sq., 120, 134, 145, 158, 177 sq., 182, 199 sq., 203, 211, 225, 231-7, 245 sq., 250, 255-9, 262-6, 279, 312, 321 Morton, Cardinal, 245 Moryson, Fynes, 129, 275, 302 Mountjoy, Lord, 45, 144, 173, 246, 250 Murray, Earl of, 6 Napier, 279 Napoleon, 4, 33 Nash, Thomas, 91, 306, 315, 322, 334 Naunton, Sir R., 118, 164 Navagero, 51 Navarre, Margaret of, 129 Norden, 307 Norfolk, Duke of, 40, 61, 117, 120, 150, 206, 262 Norris, Sir John, 170 Northampton, Marquess of, 249 Northumberland, Duke of, 7, 264 Northumberland, Earl of, 15, 333 O'Brien, Morrough, 303 Occleve, 136 Ocland, Christopher, 328 Olde, John, 312 O'Neill's, the, 71 O'Neill, Shan, 289 INDEX 365 Orange, William of, 68, 74, 185, 225 Orosius, 307 O'Rourke, 303 Osorius, 158 Ovid, 222, 329 Oxford, Lord, 121, 155, 337 Pace, Richard, 53, 312 Paget, 24,43,57, 120 Palgrave, 305 Palingenius, 328 Parker, Archbishop, 309 Parma, Duke of, 70, 170, 233 Parr, Katherine, 247 Parsons, Robert, 8, 117, 313 Paston, 313 Paul IV, Pope, 191 Paulet, 120, 177 Peacham, Henry, 160, 276 Peckham, Sir George, 297 Peele, 19, 69, 191, 224, 234 Pembroke, Countess of, 129 Pembroke, Lord, 290, Penry, John, 91, 227, 282 Percy, 145 Perlin, 117, 234 - Pet, Arthur, 292 Petrarch, 258, 292, 333 Pheidias, 275 Philip II, 7, 32, 59, 70, 89, 170, 192, 205, 213, 233, 289, 302 Philips, T., 70 Phillips, Miles, 293 Pibrac, 255 Piccolomini, 165 Pico della Mirandola, 158, 259 Pilgrimage of Grace, 95 Pius, V, Pope, 92 sq. Plato, 188 Plutarch, 162 Pole, Cardinal, 81, 177, 189, 205, 246, 301 Pole, Edmund de la, 5 Poulet, Sir A.,45 Poynet, Bishop, 70, 81, 159 Praxitiles, 275 Puebla, 51 Puttenham, G., 19, 43, 257, 274, 340 Pynson, Richard, 318 Rabelais, 156 Raleigh, Sir Walter, 118, 173, 194, 228,257, 263, 296 sq., 337 Ramus, Peter, 312 Rastell, John, 318 Richard II, 21 1 Richard III, 4, 62 Rich, Lord, 58, 250 Rich, Lady, 250 Richmond, Countess of, 125, 236 Richmond, Duke of, 6, 48 Ridley, Bishop, 237 Robinson, Ralph, 189 Robsarte, Amy, 122 Romano, Giulio, 275 Ronsard, 48, 306, 315 Roper, 59 Roulart, 72 Roy, William, 52, 88 Royden, Matthew, 228, 306 Sackville, T., 43 SaHsbury, Countess of, 117 Sandys, Bishop, 218 Savonarola, 204 Scaliger, 320-2, 334 Scott, Reginald, 284 Scrope, Stephen, 245 Segar, W., 160, 173 Selden, 309 Shakespeare, 9, 18, 92, iii, 129, 210, 256, 266, 275-9, 282 sq., 290, 298, 306, 330-5 Sheffidd, Lord, 65 Shelley, 265 Sherwin, Father, 193, 235 Shrewsbury, Lord, 269 Sidney, Sir Henry, 54, 59 Sidney, Sir Philip, 43-5, 54 sq., 62, 97, 120, 145-8, 154-6, 166, 174, 232, 250> 255-9, 291, 297, 326-8, 333 sq., .337 sq. Simier, 121 Skelton, 146, 259, 272 Smeaton, Mark, 42, 67 Smith, John, 173, 297 Smith, Sir Thomas, 264, 308, 321, 338 Somerset, Protector, 126, 169, 212, 249 sq., 264, 310 Southampton, Lord, 251, 264 Speaight, 307 Speed, 309 Spelman, 307 Spenser, Edmund, 19, 41-5 sq., 119, 148 sq., 154, 162, 170, 217, 234, 256- 8, 260 sq., 278, 283 sq., 290, 303-S» 322, 333-5, 340 Spinelli, 51 Stanhope, J., 121 366 INDEX Stanley, Sir William, 96, 171, 193 Staper, Richard, 293 Starkey, Thomas, 81, 136, 145, 177 sq., 189, 234, 301 St. Bartholomew, 68, 72 sq., 113, 218, 256 Stile, J., 51 Stokes, Adrian, 248 Story, J., 71, 193 Stow, J., 58, 23s, 307 sq. Streetes, W., 271 Strozzi, 225 Stuart, Lady Arabella, 116 Stubbes, John, 32, 92, 193 Stubbes, P., 17, 130, 138, 219, 234, 239, 281, 326 Stukeley, Sir T., 119, 191 Suffolk, Duke of, 15, 38, 41, 57, 61, 117, 163, 246 Suffolk, Duchess of, 248 Surrey, Lord, 38, 43, 53, 117, 137, 170, 220, 246, 266, 326 Sussex, Lord, 206, 251 Swart, Martin, 168 Switser, Christopher, 275 Tasso, 306, 339 Theocritus, 269, 333 Thomas, William, 78, 322, 331 Thomond, Earl of, 303 Throckmorton, Cuthbert, 222 Thynne, Francis, 307 Thynne, William, 304, 307 Tiptoft, 317 Tonson, Robert, 289 Torrigiano, 271 Toto Antonio, 271 Trivulzio, Marshal, 173 Tunstall, Cuthbert, 3 12, 320 sq. Tyrone, 195 Ubaldini, P., 256 Udal, Nicholas, 6 Underbill, Edward, 219 Van, Linschoten, 292 Vaux, Sir N., 42 Vega, Garcilaso, de la, 51 Vere, 303 Verazzano, 287 Vernon, Miss, 251 Vinci, Leonardo da, 284 Virgil, 256, 269, 333 Virgil, Polydore, 183, 306 Vives, 305 Wallop, 87 Walsh, Master, 15 Walsingham, Sir F., 34 sq., 72 sq., 180, 218, 290 Warbeck, Perkin, 5, 52, 65, 115 Warwick, 5 Warwick, Lord, 40, 195 Webbe, William, 258 Wentworth, Peter, 88 White, Gilbert, 265 Williams, Roger, 173 Wilson, Sir Thomas, 321, 338 Wolfe, Reginald, 318 Wolsey, Cardinal, 15, 38, 40-2, 49, 52, 57 sq., 117, 120, 166, 182, 187, 199, 211, 237, 269, 272, 300, 318, 32s sq. Worde, Wynkyn de, 3 14, 3 18 Wordsworth, 265 Wotton, Sir Henry, 248, 339 Wyatt, Sir Thomas, 43 sq., 51, 62, 6"], 265-9,274,335 Wyatt, Sir T. (the younger), 89, 95, 188, 220, 246, 264, 300 York, Duke of, 64, 187 Yorke, Rowland, 171 Zwingli, 198 r, X .0 '-^