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 EMINENT BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
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 53 
 v.l 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 THE present volume commences a Biographical 
 series, which will include the lives of the most 
 considerable persons who have appeared in the 
 political history of these countries, from the reign 
 of Henry the Eighth inclusive to the present time. 
 The chronological order will be generally observed, 
 and the Memoirs will vary in length, according 
 to the varying interest and importance of the sub- 
 jects, and the extent of the materials which may 
 be found accessible. 
 
 The literary contributors being persons who 
 cannot be dictated to, nor required to modify the 
 expression of their opinions, so as to adapt them 
 to the views of others, the Editor will not hold him- 
 self responsible for the various political and literary 
 opinions which may be found in this series. Still 
 less will the author of any one life be answerable for 
 the doctrines or opinions advanced by the author of 
 another. 
 
 Under such circumstances, the reader will not be 
 surprised if contemporary lives occasionally present 
 conflicting opinions. The Editor, however, feels 
 
 1927687
 
 VI ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 confident that these different views will be such 
 only as men of equally liberal principles may 
 honestly and consistently entertain. 
 
 As the Life of sir Thomas More contains observ- 
 ations which have personal reference to its author, 
 it may be right to state here that it is the pro- 
 duction of sir James Mackintosh.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 SIR THOMAS MORE - 1 
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY 111 
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER 184 
 
 WILLIAM CECIL, LORD BURLEIGH 241
 
 LIVES 
 
 EMINENT BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 
 
 14801535. 
 
 ARISTOTLE and Bacon, the greatest philosophers of the 
 ancient and modern world, agree in representing poetry 
 as being of a more excellent nature than history. Agree- 
 ably to the predominance of mere understanding in 
 Aristotle's mind, he alleges as his cause of preference 
 that poetry regards general truth, or conformity to uni- 
 versal nature ; while history is conversant only with a 
 confined and accidental truth, dependent on time, place, 
 and circumstance. The ground assigned by Bacon is 
 such as naturally issued from that fusion of imagination 
 with reason, which constitutes his philosophical genius. 
 Poetry is ranked more highly by him, because the poet 
 presents us with a pure excellence and an unmingled 
 grandeur, not to be found in the coarse realities of life 
 or of history; but which the mind of man, although not 
 destined to reach, is framed to contemplate with delight. 
 
 The general difference between biography and history 
 is obvious. There have been many men in every age 
 whose lives are full of interest and instruction, but who, 
 having never taken a part in public affairs, are altogether 
 excluded from the province of the historian. There 
 
 VOL. i. . B
 
 g BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 have been also, probably, equal numbers who have in- 
 fluenced the fortune of nations in peace or in war, of the 
 peculiarities of whose character we have no information ; 
 and who, for the purposes of the biographer, may be 
 said to have no private life. 
 
 These are extreme cases. But there are other men, 
 whose manners and acts are equally well known, whose 
 individual lives are deeply interesting, whose character- 
 istic qualities are peculiarly striking, who have taken an 
 important share in events connected with the most ex- 
 traordinary revolutions of human affairs, and whose 
 biography becomes more difficult from that combination 
 and intermixture of private with public occurrences, 
 which render it instructive and interesting. The va- 
 riety and splendour of the lives of such men render it 
 often difficult to distinguish the portion of them which 
 ought to be admitted into history, from that which 
 should be reserved for biography. Generally speaking, 
 these two parts are so distinct and unlike, that they can- 
 not be confounded without much injury to both; 
 either when the biographer hides the portrait of the in- 
 dividual by a crowded and confined picture of events, 
 or when the historian allows unconnected narratives of 
 the lives of men to break the thread of history. The 
 historian contemplates only the surface of human na- 
 ture, adorned and disguised when the actors perform 
 brilliant parts before a great audience, in the midst 
 of so many dazzling circumstances, that it is hard to 
 estimate their intrinsic worth ; and impossible, in a his- 
 torical relation, to exhibit the secret springs of their 
 conduct. The biographer endeavours to follow the hero 
 and the statesman, from the field, the council, or the 
 senate, to his private dwelling, where, in the midst of do- 
 mestic ease, or of social pleasure, he throws aside the robe 
 and the mask, becomes again a man instead of an actor, 
 and, in spite of himself, often betrays those frailties and 
 singularities which are visible in the countenance and 
 voice, the gesture and manner, of every man when he is 
 not acting a part. It is particularly difficult to observe
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 3 
 
 the distinction in the case of sir Thomas More, because 
 he was so perfectly natural a man that he carried his 
 amiable peculiarities into the gravest deliberations of 
 state and the most solemn acts of law. Perhaps nothing 
 more can be universally laid down, than that the bio- 
 grapher never ought to introduce public events, except 
 as far as they are absolutely necessary to the illustration 
 of character, and that the historian should rarely digress 
 into biographical particulars, except as far as they con- 
 tribute to the clearness of his narrative of political occur- 
 rences. 
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE was born in Milk Street, in the 
 city of London, in the year 1480, three years before 
 the death of Edward IV. His family was respectable, 
 no mean advantage at that time. His father, sir 
 John More, who was born about 1440, was entitled by 
 his descent to use an armorial bearing, a privilege 
 guarded strictly and jealously as the badge of those who 
 then began to be called gentry, who, though separated 
 from the lords of parliament by political rights, yet 
 formed with them in the order of society one body, cor- 
 responding to those called noble in the other countries 
 of Europe. Though the political power of the barons 
 was on the wane, the social position of the united body 
 of nobility and gentry retained its dignity.* Sir John 
 More was one of the justices of the court of King's 
 Bench to the end of his long life ; and, according to his 
 son's account, well performed the peaceable duties of 
 civil life, being gentle in his deportment, blameless, 
 meek and merciful, an equi table judge, and an upright 
 man.-j- 
 
 * " In sir T. More's epitaph, he describes himself as ' born of no noble 
 family, but of an honest stock,' (or in the words of the original, familia non 
 celebri, sed honesta natus,) a true translation, as we here take nobility and 
 noble; for none under a baron, except he be of the privy council, doth chal- 
 lenge it; and in this sense he meant it; but as the Latin word nobilis is 
 taken in other countries for gentrie, it was otherwise. Sir John More bare 
 arms from his birth ; and though we cannot certainly tell who were his an- 
 cestors, they must needs be gentlemen." Life of T. More, by T. More, his 
 great grandson, pp. 3, 4. 
 
 t " Homo civilis, Innocens, mitis, integer." Sir Thomas More's Epi. 
 tajik. 
 
 B 2
 
 4 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 Sir Thomas More received the first rudiments of his 
 education at St. Anthony's school, in Threadneedle Street, 
 under Nicholas Hart ; for the daybreak of letters was 
 now so bright, that the reputation of schools was care- 
 fully noted, and schoolmasters began to be held in some 
 part of the estimation which they merit. Here, how- 
 ever, his studies were confined to Latin ; the cultivation 
 of Greek, which contains the sources and models of 
 Roman literature, being yet far from having sunk 
 to the level of the best among the schools. It was 
 the custom of that age that young gentlemen should 
 pass part of their boyhood in the house and service of 
 their superiors, where they might profit by listening to 
 the conversation of men of experience, and gradually 
 acquire the manners of the world. It was not deemed 
 derogatory from youths of rank ; it was rather thought 
 a beneficial expedient for inuring them to stern disci- 
 pline and implicit obedience, that they should be trained, 
 during this noviciate, in humble and even menial offices. 
 A young gentleman thought himself no more lowered by 
 serving as a page in the family of a great peer or pre- 
 late, than a Courtenay or a Howard considered it as a 
 degradation to be the huntsman or the cupbearer of a 
 Tudor. 
 
 More was fortunate in the character of his master. 
 When his school studies were thought to be finished, 
 about his fifteenth year, he was placed in the house of 
 cardinal Morton, archbishop of Canterbury. This pre- 
 late, who was born in 1410, was originally an eminent 
 civilian, canonist, and a practiser of note in the ecclesi- 
 astical courts. He was a Lancastrian, and the fidelity 
 with which he adhered to Henry VI., till that unfortu- 
 nate prince's death, recommended him to the confi- 
 dence and patronage of Edward IV. He negotiated the 
 marriage with the princess Elizabeth, which reconciled 
 (with whatever confusion of titles) the pretensions of 
 York and Lancaster, and raised Henry Tudor to the 
 throne. By these services, and by his long experience 
 in affairs, he continued to be prime minister till his
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 5 
 
 death, which happened in 1500, at the advanced age of 
 ninety.* Even at the time of More's entry into his 
 household, the old cardinal, though then fourscore and 
 five years, was pleased with the extraordinary promise of 
 the sharp and lively boy ; as aged persons sometimes, 
 as it were, catch a glimpse of the pleasure of youth, by 
 entering for a moment into its feelings. More broke 
 into the rude dramas performed at the cardinal's Christ- 
 mas festivities, to which he was too young to be in- 
 vited, and often invented at the moment speeches for 
 himself, " which made the lookers-on more sport than 
 all the players beside." The cardinal, much delight- 
 ing in his wit and towardness, would often say of him 
 unto the nobles that divers times dined with him, 
 " This child here waiting at the table, whosoever shall 
 live to see it, will prove a marvellous man." t More, 
 in his historical work, commemorates this early friend, 
 not without a sidelong glance at the acts of a courtier. 
 " He was a man of great natural wit, very well learned, 
 honourable in behaviour, lacking in no wise to win 
 favour." J In " Utopia" he praises the cardinal more 
 lavishly, and with no restraint from the severe justice of 
 history. In Morton's house he was probably first known 
 to Colet, dean of St. Paul's, the founder of St. Paul's 
 school, and one of the most eminent restorers of ancient 
 literature in England; who was wont to say, that "there 
 was but one wit in England, and that was young Thomas 
 More." 
 
 More went to Oxford in 1497, where he appears to 
 have had apartments in St. Mary's hall, but to have 
 carried on his studies at Canterbury college ||, where 
 Wolsey afterwards reared the magnificent edifice of 
 Christchurch. At that university he founded a sort of 
 civil war, waged between the partisans of Greek litera- 
 ture, who were then innovators in education, suspected 
 
 * Dod's Church History, i. 141. The Roman Catholics, now restored to 
 their just rank in society, have no longer an excuse for not continuing this 
 useful work. Godwin's Catalogue of Bishops, 161. 277. edit. 1615. 
 
 t Singer's Roper, 4. 
 
 t More, Hist. Kich. III. More's Life of More, p. 25. 
 
 || Wood's Ath. Oxon. Heame's Roper.
 
 6 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 of heresy, if not of infidelity, on the one hand; and on 
 the other side the larger body, comprehending the aged, 
 the powerful, and the celebrated, who were content to be 
 no wiser than their forefathers. The younger followers 
 of the latter faction affected the ridiculous denomination 
 of Trojans, and assumed the names of Priam, Hector, 
 Paris, and JEneas, to denote their hostility to the Greeks. 
 The puerile pedantry of these coxcombs had the good 
 effect of awakening the zeal of More for his Grecian 
 masters, and of inducing him to withstand the barbarism 
 which would exclude the noblest productions of the 
 human mind from the education of English youth. He 
 expostulated with the university in a letter addressed to 
 the whole body, reproaching them with the better ex- 
 ample of Cambridge, where the gates were thrown open 
 to the higher classics of Greece, as freely as to their 
 Roman imitators.* The established clergy even then, 
 though Luther had not yet alarmed them, strangers 
 as they were to the new learning, affected to contemn 
 that of which they were ignorant, and could not endure 
 the prospect of a rising generation more learned than 
 themselves. Their whole education was Latin, and their 
 instruction was limited to Roman and canon law, to the- 
 ology, and school philosophy. They dreaded the down- 
 fall of the authority of the vulgate from the study of 
 Greek and Hebrew. But the course of things was irre- 
 sistible. The scholastic system was now on the verge 
 of general disregard, and the perusal of the greatest 
 Roman writers turned all eyes towards the Grecian 
 masters. What man of high capacity, and of ambition 
 becoming his faculties, could read Cicero without a desire 
 to comprehend Demosthenes and Plato ? AVTiat youth 
 desirous of excellence but would rise from the study 
 of the Georgics and the Jineid, with a wish to be ac- 
 quainted with Hesiod and Apollonius, with Pindar, and 
 above all with Homer ? These studies were then pur- 
 sued, not with the dull languor and cold formality with 
 
 * See this first Letter in the Appendix to the second volume of Jortin's 
 Life of Erasmus.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 7 
 
 which the indolent, incapable, incurious majority of 
 boys obey the prescribed rules of an old establishment, 
 but with the enthusiastic admiration with which the 
 superior few feel an earnest of their own higher powers, 
 in the delight which arises in their minds at the contem- 
 plation of new beauty, and of excellence unimagined 
 before. 
 
 More found several of the restorers of Grecian litera- 
 ture at Oxford, who had been the scholars of the exiled 
 Greeks in Italy : Grocyn, the first professor of Greek in 
 the university ; Linacre, the accomplished founder of the 
 college of physicians; and William Latimer, of whom 
 we know little more than what we collect from the general 
 testimony borne by his most eminent contemporaries to 
 his learning and virtue. Grocyn, the first of the English 
 restorers, was a late learner, being in the forty-eighth 
 year of his age when he went, in 1488, to Italy, where 
 the fountains of ancient learning were once more opened. 
 After having studied under Politian, and learnt Greek 
 from Chalcondylas, one of the lettered emigrants who 
 educated the teachers of the western nations, he returned 
 to Oxford, where he taught that language to More, to 
 Linacre, and to Erasmus. Linacre followed the example 
 of Grocyn in visiting Italy, and profiting by the instruc- 
 tions of Chalcondylas. Colet spent four years in the 
 same country, and in the like studies. William Latimer 
 repaired at a mature age to Padua, in quest of that 
 knowledge which was not to be acquired at home. He 
 was afterwards chosen to be tutor to Reginald Pole, the 
 king's cousin; and Erasmus, by attributing to him 
 " maidenly modesty," leaves in one word an agreeable 
 impression of the character of a man chosen for his 
 scholarship to be Linacre's colleague in a projected trans- 
 lation of Aristotle, and solicited by the latter for aid in 
 his edition of the New Testament.* 
 
 More, at that university, became known to a man far 
 more extraordinary than any of these scholars. Erasmus 
 
 * For Latimer, Dod. i. 219. For Grocyn, Ib. 227. Colet and Linacre, all 
 biographical compilations. 
 
 B 4
 
 8 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 was invited to England by lord Mountjoy, who had been 
 his pupil at Paris, and continued to be his friend during 
 life. He resided at Oxford during a great part of 1497 ', 
 and having returned to Paris in 1 498, spent the former por- 
 tion of the same year at the university of Oxford, where 
 he again had an opportunity of pouring his zeal for Greek , 
 study into the mind of More. Their friendship, though 
 formed at an age of considerable disparity, Erasmus 
 being then thirty and More only seventeen, lasted 
 throughout the whole of their lives. Erasmus had ac- 
 quired only the rudiments of Greek at the age most suited 
 to the acquisition of languages, and was now completing 
 his knowledge on that subject at a period of mature man- 
 hood, which he jestingly compares with the age at which 
 the elder Cato commenced his Grecian studies.* Though 
 Erasmus himself seems to have been much excited to- 
 wards Greek learning by the example of the English 
 scholars, yet the cultivation of classical literature was 
 then so small a part of the employment or amusement 
 of life, that William Latimer, one of the most eminent 
 of these scholars, to whom Erasmus applied for aid in 
 his edition of the Greek Testament, declared that he had 
 not read a page of Greek or Latin for nine years ( t, that 
 he had almost forgotten his ancient literature, and that 
 Greek books were scarcely procurable in England. Sir 
 John More, inflexibly adhering to the old education, and 
 dreading that the allurements of literature might seduce 
 his son from law, discouraged the pursuit of Greek, 
 and at the same time reduced the allowance of Thomas 
 to the level of the most frugal life ; a parsimony for 
 which the son was afterwards, though not then, thank- 
 ful, as having taught him good husbandry, and preserved 
 him from dissipation. 
 
 * " Delibavimus et olim has literas sed summis duntaxat labris, at 
 nuper paulo altius ingressi, videmus id quod sa?pe numero apud gravissimos 
 auctores legimus. Latinam eruditionem extra Grcecismum mancam esse 
 et dimidiatam. Apud nos enim rivuli vix quidam sunt, et lacunulae. lutu- 
 lentas, apud illos fontes purissimi et flumina aurum volventia." Erasm. 
 Epist. 7. r >. Op. iii. p. 6.3. Lug. Bat. 1703. 
 
 t Guliel. Latimer Epist. Erasmo. Erasm. Op. iii. p. 293.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 9 
 
 At the university, or soon after leaving it, young 
 More composed the greater part of his English verses; 
 which are not such as, from their intrinsic merit, in a more 
 advanced state of our language and literature, would be 
 deserving of particular attention. But as the poems of a 
 contemporary of Skelton, they may merit more consider- 
 ation. Our language was still neglected, or confined 
 chiefly to the vulgar uses of life. Its force, its compass, 
 and its capacity of harmony, were untried : for though 
 Chaucer had shone brightly for a season, the century 
 which followed was dark and wintry. No master genius 
 had impregnated the nation with poetical sensibility. 
 In these inauspicious circumstances, the composition of 
 poems, especially if they manifest a sense of harmony, 
 and some adaptation of the sound to the subject, indi- 
 cates a delight in poetry, and a proneness to that beau- 
 tiful art, which in such an age is a more than ordi- 
 nary token of a capacity for it. The experience of all 
 ages, however it may be accounted for, shows that the 
 mind, when melted into tenderness, or exalted by the 
 contemplation of grandeur, vents its feelings in language 
 suited to a state of excitement, and delights in distin- 
 guishing its diction from common speech by some species 
 of measure and modulation, which combines the grati- 
 fication of the ear with that of the fancy and the heart. 
 The secret connection between a poetical ear and a poet- 
 ical soul is touched by the most sublime of poets, who 
 consoled himself in his blindness by the remembrance 
 of those who, under the like calamity, 
 
 Feed on thoughts that voluntary move 
 
 Harmonious numbers. 
 
 We may be excused for throwing a glance over the 
 compositions of a Writer, who is represented a century 
 after his death, by Ben Jonson, as one of the models of 
 English literature. More's poem on the death of Eliza- 
 beth, the wife of Henry VII., and his merry jest how a 
 serjeant would play the friar, may be considered as fair 
 samples of his pensive and sportive vein. The superiority 
 of the latter shows his natural disposition to pleasantry.
 
 10 BRITISH STATESMEN 
 
 There is a sort of dancing mirth in the metre, which 
 seems to warrant the observation above hazarded, that 
 in a rude period the structure of verse may be regarded 
 as some presumption of a genius for poetry. In a re- 
 fined age, indeed, all the circumstances are different. 
 The frame of metrical composition is known to all the 
 world. It may be taught by rule, and acquired me- 
 chanically. The greatest facility of versification may 
 exist without a spark of genius. Even then, however, 
 the secrets of the art of versification are chiefly revealed 
 to a chosen few by their poetical sensibility ; so that suffi- 
 cient remains of the original tie still continue to attest 
 the primitive union. It is remarkable, that the most 
 poetical of his poems is written in Latin. It is a 
 poem addressed to a lady, with whom he had been in 
 love when he was sixteen years old, and she fourteen ; 
 it turns chiefly on the pleasing reflexion that his affec- 
 tionate remembrance restored to her the beauty, of which 
 twenty-five years seemed to others to have robbed 
 her.* 
 
 When More had completed his time at Oxford, he 
 applied himself to the law, which was to be the occu- 
 pation of his life. He first studied at New Inn, and 
 afterwards at Lincoln's Inn.t The societies of lawyers 
 having purchased some inns, or noblemen's residences, in 
 London, were hence called inns of court. It was not then 
 a metaphor to call them an university : they had professors 
 of law ; they conferred the characters of barrister and ser- 
 jeant, analogous to the degrees of batchelor, master, and 
 doctor, bestowed by universities ; and every man, before 
 he became a barrister, was subjected to examination, and 
 obliged to defend a thesis. More was appointed reader 
 at Furnival's Inn, where he delivered lectures for three 
 
 * " Gratulatur quod earn repererit incolumem quam olim ferme puer 
 amaverat." Mori Poemata. 
 
 It does not seem reconcileable with dates, that this lady could hare been 
 the younger sister of Jane Colt. Vide infra. 
 
 t Inn was successively applied, like the French word hotel, first to the 
 town mansion of a great man, and afterwards to a house where all mankind 
 were entertained for money.
 
 SIB THOMAS MORE. 11 
 
 years. The English law had then grown into a science, 
 formed by a process of generalisation from usages and 
 decisions, with less help from the Roman law than the 
 jurisprudence of any other country, though not with that 
 total independence of it which English lawyers in former 
 times considered as a subject of boast: it was rather 
 formed as the law of Rome itself had been formed, than 
 adopted from that noble system. When More began to 
 lecture on English law, it was by no means in a dis- 
 orderly and neglected state. The ecclesiastical lawyers, 
 whose arguments and determinations were its earliest 
 materials, were well prepared, by the logic and philosophy 
 of their masters the schoolmen, for those exact and even 
 subtle distinctions which the precision of the rules of 
 jurisprudence eminently required. In the reigns of the 
 Lancastrian princes, Littleton had reduced the law to 
 an elementary treatise, distinguished by a clear method 
 and an elegant conciseness. Fortescue had at that time 
 compared the governments of England and France with 
 the eye of a philosophical observer. Brooke and Fitz- 
 herbert had compiled digests of the law, which they called 
 (it might be thought, from their size, ironically) Abridg- 
 ments. The latter composed a treatise, still very curious, 
 on writs ; that is, on those commands (formally from 
 the king) which constitute essential parts of every legal 
 proceeding. Other writings on jurisprudence occupied 
 the printing presses of London in the earliest stage * of 
 their existence. More delivered lectures at St. Lawrence's 
 church in the Old Jewry, on the work of St. Augustine, 
 " De Civitate Dei," that is, on the divine government 
 of the moral world ; which must seem to readers who 
 look at ancient times through modern habits, a very sin- 
 gular occupation for a young lawyer. But the clergy 
 were the chief depositaries of knowledge, and were the 
 sole canonists and civilians, as they had once been the 
 only lawyers, t Religion, morals, and law, were then 
 
 * Doctor and Student by St. Germain. Diversity des Courtes, printed by 
 Rastal in 1534, &c. &c. 
 _t Nullut causidicus nisi clerical.
 
 12 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 taught together without due distinction between them, 
 to the injury and confusion of them all. To these lec- 
 tures, we are told by the affectionate biographer, " there 
 resorted doctor Grocyn, an excellent cunning man, and 
 all the chief learned of the city of London." * More, 
 in his lectures, however, did not so much discuss " the 
 points of divinity as the precepts of moral philosophy 
 and history, wherewith these books are replenished." t 
 They, perhaps, however, embittered his polemical writ- 
 ings, and somewhat soured that naturally sweet temper, 
 which was so deeply felt by his companions, that Eras- 
 mus scarcely ever concludes a letter to him without 
 epithets more indicative of the most tender affection 
 than of the calm feelings of friendship. 
 
 The tenderness of his nature combined with the in- 
 structions and habits of his education to predispose him 
 to piety. As he lived in the neighbourhood of the great 
 Carthusian monastery, called the Charterhouse, for some 
 years, he manifested a predilection for monastic life, and 
 is said to have practised some of those austerities and 
 self-inflictions which prevail among the gloomier and 
 more stern orders. A pure mind in that age often 
 sought to extinguish some of the inferior impulses of 
 human nature, instead of employing them for their ap- 
 pointed purpose, that of animating the domestic af- 
 fections, and sweetening the most important duties of 
 life. He soon learnt, by self examination, his unfitness 
 for the priesthood, and relinquished his project of taking 
 orders, in words which should have warned his church 
 against the imposition of unnatural self denial on vast 
 multitudes and successive generations of men.|| 
 
 The same affectionate disposition which had driven 
 him towards the visions, and, strange as it may seem, 
 to the austerities of the monks, now sought a more na- 
 tural channel. " He resorted to the house of one maister 
 
 * Roper, p. 5. Singer's edition. f More's Life of Sir T. More, p. 44. 
 
 J SuavUsime More. Charissime More. Mellitissime More. 
 
 Founded in thee 
 
 Relations dear and all the charities, &c. 
 
 || " Maluit maritus esse casing quam sacerdos impurus." frasm. Ep. 
 ad Ulric. ab Hutton, 23 July, 1519. Opp. iii. p. 475.
 
 SIB THOMAS MORE. 13 
 
 Colt, a gentleman of Essex, who had often invited him 
 thither ; having three daughters, whose honest convers- 
 ation and virtuous education provoked him there espe- 
 cially to set his affection. And albeit his mind most 
 served him to the second daughter, for that he thought 
 her the fairest and best favoured, yet when he considered 
 that it would be both great grief, and some shame also, 
 to the eldest, to see her younger sister preferred before 
 her in marriage, he then of a certain pity framed his 
 fancy toward her, and soon after married her, neverthe- 
 more discontinuing his study of the law at Lincoln's 
 Inn/'* His more remote descendant adds, that Mr. Colt 
 " proffered unto him the choice of any of his daughters; 
 and that More, out of a kind of compassion, settled his 
 fancy on the eldest." t Erasmus gives a turn to More's 
 marriage with Jane Colt, which is too ingenious to be 
 probable: " He wedded a very young girl of respect- 
 able family, but who had hitherto lived in the country 
 with her parents and sisters ; and was so uneducated, 
 that he could mould her to his own tastes and manners. 
 He caused her to be instructed in letters; and she became 
 a very skilful musician, which peculiarly pleased him.";}; 
 The plain matter of fact seems to have been, that in 
 an age when marriage chiefly depended upon a bargain 
 between parents, on which sons were little consulted, and 
 daughters not at all, More, emerging at twenty-one from 
 the toil of acquiring Greek, and the voluntary self torture 
 of Carthusian mystics, was delighted at his first entry 
 among pleasing young women, of whom the least attract- 
 ive might, in these circumstances, have touched him ; 
 and that his slight preference for the second easily yielded 
 to a good-natured reluctance to mortify the elder. Most 
 young ladies in Essex, in the beginning of the sixteenth 
 century, probably required some tuition to ' appear in 
 London among scholars and courtiers, who were at that 
 moment more mingled than it is now usual for them to 
 be. It is impossible to ascertain the precise shade of 
 
 * Roper, p. 6. finger's edition. f More, p. 30. 
 
 J Epist. ad Ulric. ab Hutton, ut supra.
 
 14 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 feeling which the biographers intended to denote by the 
 words " pity" and " compassion," for the use of which 
 they are charged with a want of gallantry or delicacy by 
 modern writers ; although neither of these terms, when 
 the context is at the same time read, seems unhappily 
 employed to signify the natural refinement, which shrinks 
 from humbling the harmless self-complacency of an in- 
 nocent girl. 
 
 The marriage proved so happy, that nothing was to be 
 regretted in it but the shortness of the union, in conse- 
 quence of the early death of Jane Colt, who left a son 
 and three daughters ; of whom Margaret, the eldest, inhe- 
 rited the features, the form, and the genius of her father, 
 and requited his fond partiality by a daughterly love, 
 which endured to the end. 
 
 In no long time * after the death of Jane Colt, he 
 married Alice Middleton, a widow, seven years older 
 than himself, and neither handsome nor young ; rather for 
 the care of his family, and the management of his house, 
 than as a companion and a friend. He treated her, and 
 indeed most females except his daughter Margaret, as 
 better qualified to relish a jest, than to take a part in 
 more serious conversation ; and in their presence gave 
 an unbounded scope to his natural inclination towards 
 pleasantry. He even indulged himself in a Latin jingle 
 on her want of youth and beauty, "nee bella nee puella." t 
 <f She was of good years, of no good favour or complexion, 
 nor very rich, and by disposition near and worldly. It 
 was reported that he wooed her for a friend of his ; but 
 she answering that he might speed if he spoke for himself, 
 he married her with the consent of his friend, yielding 
 to her that which perhaps he never would have done of 
 his own accord. Indeed, her favour could not have 
 bewitched, or scarce moved, any man to love her ; but 
 yet she proved a kind and careful mother-in-law to his 
 children." Erasmus, who was often an inmate in the 
 
 * " In a few months," says Erasmus, in his letter to Hutton : within 
 two or three years, according to his great grandson. More's Life qf More, 
 p. 32. 
 
 f Erasm. Epist ad Hutt
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 15 
 
 family, speaks of her as " a keen and watchful manager, 
 with whom More lived on terms of as much respect and 
 kindness as if she had been fair and young." Such 
 is the happy power of a loving disposition, which 
 overflows on companions, though their attractions or 
 deserts should be slender. " No husband," continues 
 Erasmus, " ever gained so much obedience from a wife 
 by authority and severity, as More won by gentleness 
 and pleasantry. Though verging on old age, and not of 
 a yielding temper, he prevailed on her to take lessons on 
 the lute, the cithara, the viol, the monochord, and the 
 flute, which she daily practised to him. With the 
 same gentleness he ruled his whole family, so that it 
 was without broils or quarrels. He composed all dif- 
 ferences, and never parted with any one on terms of 
 unkindness. The house was fated to the peculiar feli- 
 city that those who dwelt in it were always raised to 
 a higher fortune ; and that no spot ever fell on the 
 good name of its happy inhabitants." The course of 
 More's domestic life is minutely described by eye wit- 
 nesses. " His custom was daily (besides his private 
 prayers with his children) to say the seven psalms, the 
 litany, and the suffrages following ; so was his guise 
 with his wife, children, and household, nightly before 
 he went to bed, to go to his chapel, and there on his 
 knees ordinarily to say certain psalms and collects with 
 them." * " With him, says Erasmus, " you might 
 imagine yourself in the academy of Plato. But I should 
 do injustice to his house by comparing it to the academy 
 of Plato, where numbers, and geometrical figures, and 
 sometimes moral virtues, were the subjects of discussion ; 
 it would be more just to call it a school and exercise 
 of the Christian religion. All its inhabitants, male or 
 female, applied their leisure to liberal studies and pro- 
 fitable reading, although piety was their first care. 
 No wrangling, no angry word, was heard in it; no one 
 was idle: every one did his duty with alacrity, and 
 
 * Roper, p. 25. Singer's edition.
 
 16 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 not without a temperate cheerfulness." * Erasmus had 
 not the sensibility of his friend: he was more prohe to 
 smile than to sigh at the concerns of men ; but he was 
 touched by the remembrance of these domestic solemni- 
 ties in the household of his friends. He manifests an 
 agreeable emotion at the recollection of these scenes in 
 daily life, which tended to hallow the natural authority 
 of parents ; to bestow a sort of dignity on humble occu- 
 pations ; to raise menial offices to the rank of virtues ; to 
 spread peace and cultivate kindness among those who 
 had shared, and were soon again to share, the same mo- 
 dest rites, in gently breathing around them a spirit of 
 meek equality, which rather humbled the pride of the 
 great than disquieted the spirits of the lowly. More 
 himself justly speaks of the hourly interchange of the 
 smaller acts of kindness which flow from the charities 
 of domestic life, as having a claim on his time as strong 
 as the occupations which seemed to others so much more 
 serious and important. " While," says he, " in pleading, 
 in hearing, in deciding causes or composing differences, in 
 waiting on some men about business, and on others out 
 of respect, the greatest part of the day is spent on other 
 men's affairs, the remainder of it must be given to my 
 family at home ; so that I can reserve no part of it to 
 myself, that is, to study. I must talk with my wife, 
 and chat with my children, and I have somewhat to say 
 to my servants; for all these things I reckon as a part of 
 my business, except a man will resolve to be a stranger 
 at home ; and with whomsoever either nature, chance, or 
 choice, has engaged a man in any commerce, he must 
 endeavour to make himself as acceptable to those about 
 him as he can." t 
 
 His occupations now necessarily employed a large 
 portion of his time. His professional practice became 
 so considerable, that about the accession of Henry VIII., 
 in 1509, with his legal office in the city of "London, it 
 produced 400/. a year, probably equivalent to an annual 
 
 * Erasm. Epist. 426. Opp. iii. 1810. 
 . f Dedication of Utopia to Peter Giles, Burnet's translation, 1684.
 
 SIB THOMAS MORE. 17 
 
 income of 5000/. in the present day. Though it be not 
 easy to determine the exact period of the occurrences of 
 his life, from his establishment in London to his accept^ 
 ance of political office, the beginning of Henry VIII.'s 
 reign may be considered as the time of his highest emi- 
 nence at the bar. About this time a ship belonging to 
 the pope, or claimed by his holiness on behalf of some 
 of his subjects, happened to come to Southampton, where 
 she was seized as a forfeiture to the king; probably as 
 what is called a droit of the crown, or a droit of the 
 admiralty, though in what circumstances or on what 
 grounds we know not. The papal minister made suit 
 to the king that the case might be argued for the pope 
 by learned counsel in a public place, and in presence of 
 the minister himself, who was a distinguished civilian. 
 None was found so well qualified to be of counsel for the 
 ambassador as More, who could report in Latin to that 
 minister all the reasonings of the counsel on both sides. 
 More accordingly stated all their arguments to his client, 
 and argued so learnedly on the pope's side, that he suc- 
 ceeded in obtaining an order for the restitution of the 
 vessel detained ; and appears by his probity and ability 
 to have reached the summit of his forensic reputation.* 
 There was no case of consequence in controversy before 
 any court of law, in which he was not of counsel for one 
 of the parties. 
 
 It has been already intimated, that about the same 
 time he was appointed to a judicial office in the city of 
 London, which is described by his son-in-law as one of 
 the under-sherifFs of the city. These officers are now 
 annually appointed, and exercise no judicial powers. 
 Roper, who was for many years an officer of the court 
 of King's Bench, gives the name of the office correctly; 
 but does not describe its nature and importance so truly 
 as Erasmus, who tells his correspondent that More passed 
 several years in the city of London, where he was born, 
 as a judge in civil causes. " This office, though not la- 
 borious, for the court sits only on the forenoon of every 
 
 * Roper, p. 9. 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 Thursday, is accounted very honourable. No judge of 
 that court ever went through more causes ; none decided 
 them more uprightly; often remitting the fees to which 
 he was entitled from the suitors. His deportment in this 
 capacity endeared him extremely to his fellow-citizens." * 
 He was' judge of the sheriff's court, which, being the 
 county court for London and Middlesex, was, at that 
 time, a station of honour and advantage.t For the 
 county courts in general, and indeed all the ancient sub- 
 ordinate jurisdictions of the common law, had not yet 
 been superseded by that concentration of authority in 
 the hands of the superior courts at Westminster, which 
 contributed to the purity and dignity of the judicial 
 character, as well as to a perfect uniformity and a con- 
 stant improvement of the administration of law; a great 
 commendation, it is true, but to which we cannot add 
 that it served in the same degree to promote a speedy 
 and cheap redress of the wrongs suffered by those 
 suitors to whom cost and delay are most grievous. 
 More's office, in that state of jurisdiction, might therefore 
 have possessed the importance which his contemporaries 
 ascribed to it ; although the denomination of it would 
 not make such an impression on modern ears. 
 
 From communications obtained for me from the 
 records of the city, I am enabled to ascertain some par- 
 ticulars of the nature of More's appointment, which 
 have occasioned a difference of opinion. He was under- 
 sheriff of London; for, on the 8th of May, 1514, it 
 was agreed by the common council, " that Thomas More, 
 gentleman, one of the under-sheriffs of London, should 
 occupy his office and chamber by a sufficient deputy, 
 during his absence as the king's ambassador in Flanders." 
 It appears from several entries in the same records, from 
 1496 to 1502 inclusive, that the under-sherifF^ was 
 annually elected, or rather confirmed ; for the practice 
 
 ' * Erasm. Ep. ad Ulric. HutL 
 
 f " In urbe sua pro shyrevo dixit" These 'are the words of an in. 
 tcription intended by More himself on his family monument, and sent to 
 Erasmus, 15th June, 1532. Ernsm. Opp. iii. 1441. 
 
 J The Latin term for under-sheriff' in the entries is subvicecomes i but 
 the leave of absence during the Flemish mission is in English.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 19 
 
 was not to remove him without his own application or 
 some serious fault. For six years of Henry's reign, 
 Edward Dudley was one of the under-sheriffs ; a cir- 
 cumstance which renders the superior importance of the 
 office at that time probable. Thomas Marowe, the author 
 of works on law esteemed in his time, though not pub- 
 lished, appears in the above records as under-sheriff. 
 
 It is apparent, that either as a considerable source 
 of his income, or as an honourable token of public con- 
 fidence, this office was valued by More ; since he informs 
 Erasmus, in 1516, that he had declined a handsome 
 pension offered to him by the king on his return from 
 Flanders: that he believed he should always decline it; 
 because either it would oblige him to resign his office in 
 the city, which he preferred to a better, or if he retained 
 it, in case of a controversy of the city with the king for 
 their privileges, he might be deemed by his fellow-citi- 
 zens to be disabled by dependence on the crown from 
 sincerely and faithfully maintaining their rights.* This 
 last reasoning is also interesting, as the first intimation 
 of the necessity of a city law-officer being independent 
 on the crown, and of the legal resistance of the corpor- 
 ation of London to a Tudor king. It paved the way 
 for those happier times in which the great city had the, 
 honour to number the Holts and the Denmans among 
 her legal advisers. 
 
 He is the first person in our history distinguished by 
 the faculty of public speaking, and remarkable for the suc- 
 cessful employment of it in parliament against a lavish 
 grant of money to the crown. The circumstances of a 
 fact thus doubly memorable are related by his son-in- 
 law as follows : " In the latter time of king Henry VII. 
 he was made a burgess of the parliament, wherein was 
 demanded by the king about three fifteenths for the 
 marriage of his eldest daughter, that then should be the 
 Scottish queen. At the last debating whereof he made 
 such arguments and reasons there against, that the king's 
 demands were thereby clean overthrown ; so that one of 
 * Thomas Morus Erasmo. 1516. Ep. 227. Erasmi Opp. iii. 220. 
 C 2
 
 20 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 the king's privy chamber, named maister Tyler, being 
 present thereat, brought word to the king out of the 
 parliament house, that a beardless boy had disappointed 
 all his purpose. Whereupon the king, conceiving great 
 indignation towards him, could not be satisfied until he 
 had some way revenged it. And forasmuch as he, 
 nothing having, could nothing lose, his grace devised a 
 causeless quarrel against his father; keeping him in the 
 Tower till he had made him to pay 100/. fine," 
 (probably on a charge of having infringed some obsolete 
 penal law). " Shortly after, it fortuned that sir T. More, 
 coming in a suit to Dr. Fox, bishop of Winchester, one of 
 the king's privy council, the bishop called him aside, and, 
 pretending great favour towards him, promised that if 
 he would be ruled by him he would not fail into the 
 king's favour again to restore him; meaning, as it was 
 afterwards conjectured, to cause him thereby to confess 
 his offences against the king, whereby his highness 
 might, with the better colour, have occasion to revenge 
 his displeasure against him. But when he came from 
 the bishop he fell into communication with one maister 
 Whitforde, his familiar friend, then chaplain to that 
 bishop, and showed him what the bishop had said, 
 praying for his advice. Whitforde prayed him by the 
 passion of God not to follow the counsel ; for my lord, to 
 serve the king's turn, will not stick to agree to his own 
 father's death. So sir Thomas More returned to the 
 bishop no more; and had not the king died soon after, 
 he was determined to have gone over sea."* That the 
 advice of Whitford was wise, appeared from a circum- 
 stance which occurred nearly ten years after, which 
 exhibits a new feature in the character of the king and 
 of his bishops. When Dudley was sacrificed to popular 
 resentment, under Henry VIII., and when he was on 
 his way to execution, he met sir Thomas, to whom he 
 said, " Oh More, More! God was your good friend, 
 
 * Roper, p. 7. There seems to be some forgetfulness of dates in the latter 
 part of this passage, which has been copied by succeeding writers. Mar. 
 garet, it is well known, was married in 1503. The debate was not, there- 
 fore, later than that year. But Henry VII. lived till 1509.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 21 
 
 that you did not ask the king forgiveness, as manie 
 would have had you do; for if you had done so, perhaps 
 you should have been in the like case with us now."* 
 
 It was natural that the restorer of political eloquence, 
 which had slumbered for a long series of ages t, 
 should also he the earliest of the parliamentary champions 
 of liberty. But it is lamentable that We have so little 
 information respecting sir Thomas More's oratory, which 
 alone could have armed him for the noble conflict. He 
 may be said to hold the same station among us, which 
 is assigned by Cicero, in his dialogue on the celebrated 
 orators of Rome^, to Cato the censor, whose consul- 
 ship was only about ninety years prior to the consulship 
 of Cicero himself. That celebrated Roman had, indeed, 
 made an animated speech in the eighty-fifth year of his 
 age, which was the last of his life. A hundred and fifty 
 of his speeches were extant in the time of Cicero. " But," 
 says the latter, " what living or lately deceased orator 
 has read them ? Who knows them at all ? " 
 
 Sir Thomas More's answer, as speaker of the house of 
 commons, to Wolsey, of which more will be said pre- 
 sently, is admirable for its promptitude, quickness, sea- 
 sonableness, and caution, combined with dignity and 
 spirit. It unites presence of mind and adaptation to 
 the person and circumstances, with address and manage- 
 ment seldom surpassed. If the tone be more submissive 
 than suits modern ears, it is yet remarkable for that in- 
 genious refinement which for an instant shows a glimpse 
 of the sword generally hidden under robes of state. 
 " His eloquent tongue," says Erasmus, " so well seconds 
 his fertile invention, that no one speaks better when sud- 
 denly called forth. His attention never languishes; his 
 mind is always before his words ; his memory has all its 
 stock so turned into ready money, that, without hesitation 
 or delay, it gives out whatever the time and the case 
 may require. His acuteness in dispute is unrivalled, 
 
 * More's Life of More, p. 38. 
 
 t " Postquam pugnatum est apud Actium, magna ilia ingenia cessere. 
 Tacitus. 
 % Brutus, sive de Claris Oratoribus. 
 
 o 3
 
 22 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 and he often perplexes the most renowned theologians 
 when he enters their province."* Though much of this 
 encomium may he applicable rather to private convers- 
 ation than to public debate ; and though his presence of 
 mind may refer most to promptitude of repartee, and 
 comparatively little to that readiness of reply, of which 
 his experience must have been limited; it is still obvious 
 that the great critic has ascribed to his friend the higher 
 part of those mental qualities, which, when justly ba- 
 lanced and perfectly trained, constitute a great orator. 
 
 As if it had been the lot of More to open all the paths 
 through the wilds of our old English speech, he is to be 
 considered as our earliest prose writer, and as the first 
 Englishman who wrote the history of his country in its 
 present language. The historical fragment commands 
 belief by simplicity, and by abstinence from too confident 
 aifirmation. It betrays some negligence about minute 
 particulars, which is not displeasing as a symptom of 
 the absence of eagerness to enforce a narrative. The 
 composition has an ease and a rotundity, which gratify 
 the ear without awakening the suspicion of art, of which 
 there was no model in any preceding writer of English 
 prose. 
 
 In comparing the prose of More with the modern 
 style, we must distinguish the words from the compo- 
 sition. A very small part of his vocabulary has been 
 superannuated. The number of terms which require 
 any explanation is inconsiderable; and in that respect 
 the stability of the language is remarkable. He is, in- 
 deed, in his words, more English than the great writers 
 of a century after him, who loaded their native tongue 
 with expressions of Greek or Latin derivation. Cicero, 
 speaking of old Cato, seems almost to describe More. 
 " His style is rather antiquated; he has some words dis- 
 pleasing to our ears, but which were then in familiar 
 use. Change those terms, which he could not, you will 
 then prefer no speaker to Cato."t 
 
 * Erasm. Epist. ad Ulric. ab Hutton. 
 f Brutus, c. 68.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 23 
 
 But in the combination and arrangement of words, in 
 ordinary phraseology and common habits of composition, 
 he differs more widely from the style prevalent among 
 us for nearly two centuries. His diction seems a con- 
 tinued experiment to discover the forms into which the 
 language naturally runs. In that attempt he has fre- 
 quently failed. Fortunate accident, or more varied 
 experiment in aftertimes, led to the adoption of other 
 combinations, which could scarcely have succeeded, if 
 they had not been more consonant to the spirit of the 
 language, and more agreeable to the ear and the feelings 
 of the people. The structure of his sentences is fre- 
 quently not that which the English language has finally 
 adopted. The language of his countrymen has decided, 
 without appeal, against the composition of the father of 
 English prose. 
 
 The speeches contained in his fragment, like many of 
 those in the ancient historians, were probably as real as 
 he could render them in substance ; but brightened by 
 ornament, and improved in composition. It could, in- 
 deed, scarcely be otherwise ; for the history was written 
 in 1513*, and the death of Edward IV., with which 
 it opens, occurred in 1483; and cardinal Morton, who 
 became prime minister two years after that event, ap- 
 pears to have taken young More into his household 
 about the year 1493. There is little scope, in so short 
 a time, for much falsification, by tradition, of the argu- 
 ments and topics really employed. 
 
 The speeches have the merit of being accommodated 
 to the circumstances, and of disposing those to whom 
 they were addressed to promote the object of the speaker. 
 Strange as it may seem, this rare merit renders it pro- 
 bable that More had been taught, by the practice of speak- 
 ing in contests where objects the most important are 
 
 * Holinshed, Hi. 360. Holinshed called More's work " unfinished." 
 That it was meant to extend to the death of Richard III. seems probable 
 from the following sentence : " But, forasmuch as this duke's (the duke 
 of Gloucester) demeanour ministereth in effect all the whole matter 
 whereof this book shall entreat, it is therefore convenient to show you, as 
 we farther go, what manner of man this was that could find in his heart 
 such mischief to conceive." Ib. 361. 
 
 G 4
 
 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 the prize of the victor, that eloquence is the art of per- 
 suasion ; and that the end of the orator is not the dis- 
 play of his talents, but dominion over the minds of his 
 hearers. The dying speech, in which Edward exhorts 
 the two parties of his friends to harmony, is a grave ap- 
 peal to their prudence, as well as an affecting address 
 from a father and a king to their public feelings. The 
 surmises thrown out by Richard against the Widvilles 
 are short, dark, and well adapted to awaken suspicion 
 and alarm. The insinuations against the queen, and the 
 threats of danger to the lords themselves from leaving 
 the person of the duke of York in the hands of that 
 princess, in Richard's speech to the privy council, before 
 the archbishop of York was sent to Westminster to de- 
 mand the surrender of the boy, are admirable specimens 
 of the address and art of crafty ambition. Generally 
 speaking, the speeches have little of the vague common- 
 place of rhetoricians and declaimers. They are calcu- 
 lated for the very persons to whom they were spoken, 
 and fitted for all their peculiarities of interest and tem- 
 per. Time is not wasted in parade. In the case, in- 
 deed, of the dispute between the archbishop and the 
 queen, about taking the duke of York out of his mother's 
 care, in sanctuary at Westminster, there is more inge- 
 nious argument than the scene allows ; and the mind 
 rejects logical refinements, of which the use, on such 
 an occasion, is quite irreconcileable to dramatic verisi- 
 militude. The duke of Buckingham alleged in council, 
 that sanctuary could be claimed only against danger ; 
 and that the royal infant had neither wisdom to desire 
 sanctuary, nor the malicious intention in his acts with- 
 out which he could not require it. To this notable pa- 
 radox, which amounted to an affirmation that no cer- 
 tainly innocent person could ever claim protection from 
 a sanctuary, when it was carried to the queen, she an- 
 swered readily, that if she could be in sanctuary, it 
 followed that her child, who was her ward, was included 
 in her protection, as much as her servants were, without 
 contradiction, allowed to be.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 25 
 
 The Latin epigrams of More, a small volume which 
 it required two years to carry through the press at Basil, 
 are mostly translations from the Anthologia, which were 
 rather made known to Europe by the fame of the writer, 
 than calculated to increase it. They contain, however, 
 some decisive proofs that he always entertained the 
 opinions respecting the dependence of all government on 
 the consent of the people, to which he professed his ad- 
 herence almost in his dying moments. Latin versifica- 
 tion was not in that early period successfully attempted 
 in any transalpine country. The rules of prosody, or at 
 least the laws of metrical composition, were not yet suf- 
 ficiently studied for such attempts. His Latinity was of 
 the same school with that of his friend Erasmus ; which 
 was, indeed, common to the first generation of scholars 
 after the revival of classical study. Finding Latin a 
 sort of general language employed by men of letters in 
 their conversation and correspondence, they continued 
 the use of it in the mixed and corrupted state to which 
 such an application had necessarily reduced it : they be- 
 gan, indeed, to purify it from some grosser corruptions ; 
 but they built their style upon the foundation of this 
 colloquial dialect, with no rigorous observation of the 
 good usage of the Roman language. Writings of busi- 
 ness, of pleasantry, of familiar intercourse, could never 
 have been composed in pure Latinity, which was still 
 more inconsistent with new manners, institutions, and 
 opinions, and with discoveries and inventions added to 
 those which were transmitted by antiquity. Erasmus, 
 who is the master and model of this system of compo- 
 sition, admirably shows how much had been gained by 
 loosening the fetters of a dead speech, and acquiring in 
 its stead the nature, ease, variety, and vivacity of a 
 spoken and living tongue. The course of circumstances, 
 however, determined that this language should not sub- 
 sist, or at least flourish, for much more than a century. 
 It was assailed on one . side by the purely classical, 
 whom Erasmus, in derision, calls " Ciceronians ;" and 
 when it was sufficiently emasculated by dread of their
 
 26 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 censure, it was finally overwhelmed by the rise of a na- 
 tional literature in every European language. 
 
 More exemplified the abundance and flexibility of the 
 Erasmian Latinity in Utopia, with which this short view 
 of all his writings, except those of controversy, may be 
 fitly concluded. The idea of the work was suggested 
 by some of the dialogues of Plato, who speaks of vast 
 territories, formerly cultivated and peopled, but after- 
 wards, by some convulsion of nature, covered by the 
 Atlantic Ocean. These Egyptian traditions, or legends, 
 harmonised admirably with that discovery of a new con- 
 tinent by Columbus, which had roused the admiration 
 of Europe about twenty years before the composition of 
 Utopia. This was the name of an island feigned to 
 have been discovered by a supposed companion of 
 Amerigo Vespucci, who is made to tell the wondrous 
 tale of its condition to More, at Antwerp, in 1514. 
 
 More, imitating the ancients, only as a philosopher, 
 borrowed from Plato the conception of an imaginary 
 commonwealth, of which he placed the seat in Utopia. 
 All the names which he invented for men or places* 
 were intimations of their being unreal, and were, per- 
 haps, by treating with raillery his own notions, intended 
 to silence gainsayers. The first book, which is pre- 
 liminary, is naturally and ingeniously opened by a con- 
 versation, in which Raphael Hythloday, the Utopian 
 traveller, describes his visit to England ; where, as much 
 as in other countries, he found all proposals for improve- 
 ment encountered by the remark, that " Such things 
 pleased our ancestors, and it were well for us if we could 
 but match them; as if it were a great mischief that any 
 
 * The following specimen of Utopian etymologies may amuse some 
 readers : 
 
 Utopia - . wrttro; . - nowhere. 
 Achorians - a-gu^ri - - of no country. 
 
 Adetnians - a-5r-> - - of no people. 
 
 Anyder (a river) a-i/Saj . . waterless. 7 The invisible city is on 
 
 Amaurot (a city) a-/jiveo( - - dark. 3 the river waterless. 
 
 Hythloday - Ja;-u0Xof a learner of trifles, &c. 
 
 Some are intentionally unmeaning, and others are taken from little known 
 language in order to perplex pedants. Joseph Scaliger represents Utopia 
 as a word not formed according to the analogy which regulates the form- 
 ation of Greek words. Epist. Ger. Jao. Voss. 340. Amstel. 1699.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 27 
 
 should be found wiser than his ancestors." * "I met 
 these proud,, morose, and absurd judgments, particularly 
 once when dining with cardinal Morton at London." 
 After describing that portion of More's boyhood in 
 a manner which was sure to win his heart, Raphael pro- 
 ceeds to say, " that there happened to be at table an 
 English lawyer, who run out into high commendation 
 of the severe execution of justice upon thieves, who were 
 then hanged so fast that there were sometimes twenty 
 hanging upon one gibbet ; and added, ' that he could not 
 wonder enough how it came to pass that there were so 
 many thieves left robbing in all places.' " Raphael an- 
 swered, " that it was because the punishment of death 
 was neither just in itself, nor good for the public ; for 
 as the severity was too great, so the remedy was not 
 effectual.t You, as well as other nations, like bad 
 schoolmasters, chastise their scholars because they have 
 not the skill to teach them." Raphael afterwards more 
 specially ascribed the gangs of banditti who, after the 
 suppression of Perkin Warbeck's Cornish revolt, infested 
 England, to two causes ; of which the first was the fre- 
 quent disbanding of the idle and armed retainers of the 
 nobles, who, when from necessity let loose from their 
 masters, were too proud for industry, and had no resource 
 but rapine ; and the second was the conversion of much 
 corn field into pasture for sheep, because the latter had 
 become more profitable ; by which base motives many 
 landholders were tempted to expel their tenants and 
 destroy the food of man. Raphael suggested the substi- 
 tution of hard labour for death ; for which he quoted the 
 example of the Romans, and of an imaginary community 
 in Persia. " The lawyer answered, ' that it could never 
 be so settled in England, without endangering the whole 
 nation by it :' he shook his head, and made some gri- 
 maces, and then held his peace, and all the company 
 seemed to be of his mind<i> But the cardinal said, ' It 
 is not easy to say whether this plan would succeed or 
 not, since no trial has been made of it j but it might be 
 -. * Burnet's Translation of Utopia, p. 13. t Ibid, book I
 
 28 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 tried on thieves condemned to death, and adopted if 
 found to answer : and vagabonds might be treated in the 
 same way.' When the cardinal had said this, they all 
 fell to commend the motion, though they had despised 
 it when it came from me. They more particularly com- 
 mended that concerning the vagabonds, because it had 
 been added by him." 
 
 From some part of the above extracts it is apparent 
 that More, instead of having anticipated the economical 
 doctrines of Adam Smith, as some modern writers have 
 fancied, was thoroughly imbued with the prejudices of 
 his contemporaries against the inclosure of commons, 
 and the extension of pasture. It is, however, observ- 
 able, that he is perfectly consistent with himself, and 
 follows his principles through all their legitimate con- 
 sequences, though they may end in doctrines of very 
 startling sound. Considering separate property as always 
 productive of unequal distribution of the fruits of labour, 
 and regarding that inequality of fortune as the source of 
 bodily suffering to those who labour, and of mental de- 
 pravation to those who are not compelled to toil for sub- 
 sistence, Hythloday is made to say, that " as long as 
 there is any property, and while money is the standard 
 of all other things, he cannot expect that a nation can 
 be governed either justly or happily." * More himself 
 objects to Hythloday : " It seems to me that men can- 
 not live conveniently where all things are common. How 
 can there be any plenty where every man will excuse 
 himself from labouring ? for, as the hope of gain doth 
 not excite him, so the confidence that he has in other 
 men's industry may make him slothful. And if people 
 come to be pinched with want, and yet cannot dispose 
 of any thing as their own, what can follow but perpetual 
 sedition and bloodshed; especially when the reverence 
 and authority due to magistrates fall to the ground : for 
 I cannot imagine how they tan be kept up among those 
 that are in all things equal to one another." These 
 
 * Utopia, 57. Happening to write where I have no access to the original, 
 I use Burnet's Translation. There can be no doubt of Burnet's learning 
 or fidelity.
 
 SIB THOMAS MORE. 29 
 
 remarks do in reality contain the germs of unanswerable 
 objections to all those projects of a community of goods, 
 which suppose the moral character of the majority of 
 mankind to continue, at the moment of their adoption, 
 such as it has been heretofore in the most favourable 
 instances. If, indeed, it be proposed only on the sup- 
 position, that by the influence of laws, or by the agency 
 of any other cause, mankind in general are rendered more 
 honest, more benevolent, more disinterested than they 
 have hitherto been, it is evident that they will, in the 
 same proportion, approach to a practice more near the 
 principle of an equality and a community of all advan- 
 tages. The hints of an answer to Plato, thrown out by 
 More, are so decisive that it is not easy to see how he 
 left this speck on his romance, unless we may be allowed 
 to suspect that the speculation was in part suggested as a 
 convenient cover for that biting satire on the sordid and 
 rapacious government of Henry VII. which occupies a 
 considerable portion of Hythloday's first discourse. It 
 may also be supposed that More, not anxious to save 
 visionary reformers from a few light blows in an attack 
 aimed at corrupt and tyrannical statesmen, thinks it 
 suitable to his imaginary personage, and conducive to 
 the liveh'ness of his fiction, to represent the traveller in 
 Utopia as touched by one of the most alluring and delu- 
 sive of political chimeras. 
 
 In Utopia, farm-houses were built over the whole 
 country, to which inhabitants were sent in rotation from 
 the fifty-four cities. Every family had forty men and 
 women, besides two slaves ; a master and mistress pre- 
 side over every family, and over thirty families a magis- 
 trate. Every year twenty of the family return to town, 
 being two years in the country; so that all acquire some 
 knowledge of agriculture, and the land is never left in 
 the hands of persons quite unacquainted with country 
 labours. When they want any thing in the country 
 which it doth not produce, they fetch it from the city 
 without carrying any thing in exchange. The magis- 
 trates take care to see it given to them. The people of
 
 30 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 the towns carry their commodities to the market place, 
 where they are taken away by those who need them. 
 The chief business of the magistrates is to take care 
 that no man may live idle, and that every one should 
 labour in his trade for six hours of every twenty-four : 
 a portion of time, which, according to Hythloday, was 
 sufficient for an abundant supply of all the necessaries 
 and moderate accommodations of the community, and 
 which is not inadequate where all labour, and none 
 apply extreme labour to the production of superfluities 
 to gratify a few, where there are no idle priests or idle 
 rich men, and where women of all sorts perform their 
 light allotment of labour. To women all domestic offices 
 which did not degrade or displease were assigned. Unhap- 
 pily, however, the iniquitous and unrighteous expedient 
 was devised, of releasing the better order of females from 
 offensive and noisome occupations, by throwing them 
 upon slaves. Their citizens were forbidden to be 
 butchers, " because they think that pity and good-nature, 
 which are among the best of those affections that are born 
 within us, are much impaired by the butchering of ani- 
 mals." A striking representation, indeed, of the de- 
 praving effects of cruelty to animals, but abused for the 
 iniquitous and cruel purpose of training inferiors to bar- 
 barous habits, in order to preserve for their masters the 
 exclusive benefit of a discipline of humanity. Slaves, 
 too, were employed in hunting, which was deemed 
 too frivolous and barbarous an amusement for citizens. 
 ' ' They look upon hunting as one of the basest parts of a 
 butcher's business, for they account it more decent to 
 kill beasts for the sustenance of mankind, than to take 
 pleasure in seeing a weak, harmless, and fearful hare 
 torn in pieces by a strong, fierce, and cruel dog." An 
 excess of population was remedied by planting colonies ; 
 a defect, by the recall of the necessary number of former 
 colonists; irregularities of distribution, by transferring 
 the superfluous members of one township to supply the 
 vacancies in another. They did not enslave their 
 prisoners, nor the children of their own slaves. They
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 31 
 
 are criminals condemned to slavery as a punishment ; 
 which would be no injustice in itself, if they had not pur- 
 chased persons so condemned in other countries, which 
 was in effect a premium on unjust convictions. In 
 those maladies where there is no hope of cure or alle- 
 viation, it was customary for the Utopian priests to 
 advise the patient voluntarily to shorten his useless and 
 burthensome life by opium or some equally easy means. 
 In cases of suicide, without permission of the priests and 
 the senate, the party is excluded from the honours of a 
 decent funeral. They allow divorce in adultery, and 
 incorrigible perverseness. Slavery is the general pu- 
 nishment of the highest crime. They have few laws, 
 and no lawyers. " Utopus, the founder of the state, 
 made a law that every man might be of what religion he 
 pleased, and might endeavour to draw others to it by 
 force of argument and by amicable and modest ways ; but 
 those who used reproaches or violence in their attempts 
 were to be condemned to banishment or slavery." 
 
 The following passage is so remarkable, and has 
 hitherto been so little considered in the history of 
 toleration, that I shall insert it at length : " This 
 law was made by Utopus, not only for preserving the 
 public peace, which, he said, suffered much by daily con- 
 tentions and irreconcileable heat in these matters, but 
 because he thought the interest of religion itself re- 
 quired it. As for those who so far depart from the dignity 
 of human nature as to think that our souls died with our 
 bodies, or that the world was governed by chance without 
 a wise and over-ruling Providence, the Utopians never 
 raise them to honours or offices, nor employ them in any 
 public trust, but despise them as men of base and sordid 
 minds ; yet they do not punish such men, because they 
 lay it down as a ground, that a man cannot make him- 
 self believe any thing he pleases : nor do they drive any 
 to dissemble their thoughts ; so that men are not tempted 
 to lie or disguise their opinions among them, which, 
 being a sort of fraud, is abhorred by the Utopians." A 
 beautiful and conclusive reason, which, when it was
 
 32 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 used for the first time, as it probably was in Utopia, 
 must have been drawn from so deep a sense of the value 
 of sincerity as of itself to prove that he who thus em- 
 ployed it was sincere. " These unbelievers are not 
 allowed to argue before the common people ; but they 
 are suffered and even encouraged to dispute in private 
 with their priests and other grave men, being confident 
 that they will be cured of these mad opinions by having 
 reason laid before them." 
 
 It may be doubted whether some extravagances in 
 other parts of Utopia were not introduced to cover such 
 passages as the above, by enabling the writer to call the 
 whole a mere sport of wit, and thus exempt him from 
 the perilous responsibility of having maintained such 
 doctrines seriously. In other cases he seems diffidently 
 to propose opinions to which he was in some measure in- 
 clined, but in the course of his statement to have heated 
 himself into an indignation against the vices and cor- 
 ruptions of Europe, which vents itself in eloquent invec- 
 tives not unworthy of Gulliver. He makes Hythloday 
 at last declare, "As I hope for mercy, I can have 
 no other notion of all the other governments that I see 
 or know, but that they are a conspiracy of the richer sort, 
 who, on pretence of managing the public, do only pur- 
 sue their private ends." The true notion of Utopia is, 
 however, that it intimates a variety of doctrines, and ex- 
 hibits a multiplicity of projects, which the writer re- 
 gards with almost every possible degree of approbation 
 and shade of assent ; from the frontiers of serious and 
 entire belief, through gradations of descending plausi- 
 bility, where the lowest are scarcely more than the ex- 
 ercises of ingenuity, and to which some wild paradoxes 
 are appended, either as a vehicle, or as an easy means 
 (if necessary) of disavowing the serious intention of the 
 whole of this Platonic fiction. 
 
 It must be owned, that though one class of More's 
 successors were more susceptible of judicious admiration 
 of the beauties of Plato and Cicero than his less perfectly 
 formed taste could be, and though another division of
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 33 
 
 them had acquired a knowledge of the words of the 
 Greek language, and perception of their force and dis- 
 tinctions, for the attainment of which More came too 
 early into the world, yet none would have been so 
 heartily welcomed by the masters of the Lyceum and the 
 Academy, as qualified to take a part in the discussion 
 of those grave and lofty themes which were freely 
 agitated in these early nurseries of human reason. 
 
 About the time of More's first journey to the continent, 
 in the summer of 1514, not long after which Utopia 
 was composed, may be placed the happiest period of his 
 life. He acquired an income equivalent to four or five 
 thousand pounds sterling of our present money, by his 
 own independent industry and well-earned character. 
 He had leisure for the cultivation of literature, for cor- 
 respondence with his friend Erasmus, for keeping up an 
 intercourse with European men of letters, who had already 
 placed him in their first class, and for the composition of 
 works, from which, unaware of the rapid changes which 
 were to ensue, he probably promised himself more fame, 
 or at least more popularity, than they have procured for 
 him. His affections and his temper continued to ensure 
 the happiness of his home, even when his son with a 
 wife, three daughters with their husbands, and a pro- 
 portionable number of grandchildren, dwelt under his 
 patriarchal roof. 
 
 At the same period the general progress of European 
 literature, the cheerful prospects of improved education 
 and diffused knowledge, had filled the minds of More 
 and Erasmus with delight. The expectation of an age 
 of pacific improvement seems to have prevailed among 
 studious men in the twenty years which elapsed between 
 the migration of classical learning across the Alps, and the 
 rise of the religious dissensions stirred up by the preach- 
 ing of Luther. " I foresee," says More's colleague on 
 his Flemish mission, " that our posterity will rival the 
 ancients in every sort of study ; and if they be not un- 
 grateful, they will pay the greatest thanks to those who 
 have revived these studies. Go on, and deserve well of 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 posterity, who will never suffer the name of Erasmus to 
 perish." * Erasmus himself, two years after, expresses 
 the same hopes, which, with unwonted courtesy, he 
 chooses to found on the literary character of the con- 
 versation in the palace of Henry VIII. : " The world 
 is recovering the use of its senses, like one awakened 
 from the deepest sleep ; and yet there are some who 
 cling to their old ignorance with their hands and feet, 
 and will not suffer themselves to be torn from it." t To 
 Wolsey he speaks in still more sanguine language, mixed 
 with the like personal compliment : "I see another 
 golden age arising, if other rulers he animated hy your 
 spirit. Nor will posterity be ungrateful. This new 
 felicity, obtained for the world by you, will be comme- 
 morated in immortal monuments by Grecian and Roman 
 eloquence." Though the judgment of posterity in favour 
 of kings and cardinals is thus confidently foretold, the 
 writers do not the less betray their hope of a better age, 
 which will bestow the highest honours on the promoters 
 of knowledge. A better age was, in truth, to come ; 
 but the time and circumstances of its appearance did not 
 correspond to their sanguine hopes. An age of iron was 
 to precede, in which the turbulence of reformation and 
 the obstinacy of establishment were to meet in long and 
 bloody contest. 
 
 When the storm seemed ready to break out, Erasmus 
 thought it his duty to incur the obloquy which always 
 attends mediatorial counsels. " You know the character 
 of the Germans, who are more easily led than driven. 
 Great danger may arise, if the native ferocity of that 
 people be exasperated by untimely severities. We see 
 the pertinacity of Bohemia and the neighbouring pro- 
 vinces. A bloody policy has been tried without success. 
 Other remedies must be employed. The hatred of Rome 
 is fixed in the minds of many nations, chiefly from 
 the rumours believed of the dissolute manners of that 
 
 * Tonstal. Erasm. Hth of Sept. 1517. Erasm. Opp. iii. p. 267. 
 
 t Tonstal. Erasm. 37. Erasm. Henric. Guildeford, 15th of May, 1519. 
 
 J Ib. 322. Thomas Card. Erasm. Rot. 18th of May, 1518.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 35 
 
 city, and from the immoralities of the representatives 
 of the supreme pontiff abroad." * 
 
 The uncharitableness, the turbulence, the hatred, the 
 bloodshed, which followed the preaching of Luther, 
 closed the bright visions of the two illustrious friends, 
 who agreed in an ardent love of peace, though not with- 
 out a difference in the shades and modifications of their 
 pacific temper, arising from some dissimilarity of ori- 
 ginal character. The tender heart of More clung more 
 strongly to the religion of his youth. Erasmus more 
 apprehended disturbance of his tastes and pursuits, and 
 betrays in some of his writings a temper, which might 
 have led him to doubt whether the glimmering of pro- 
 bability, to which More is limited, be equivalent to the 
 evils attendant on the search. 
 
 The public life of More began in the summer of 
 1514 1, with a mission to Bruges, in which Tunstall, 
 then master of the rolls, and afterwards bishop of Dur- 
 ham, was his colleague, of which the object was to settle 
 some particulars relating to the commercial intercourse 
 of England with the Netherlands. He was consoled for 
 a detention, unexpectedly long, by the company of Tun- 
 stall, whom he describes as one not only fraught with 
 all learning, and severe in his life and morals, but infe- 
 rior to no man as a delightful companion, jf. On this 
 mission he became acquainted with several of the friends 
 of Erasmus in Flanders, where he evidently saw a pro- 
 gress in the accommodations and ornaments of life, to 
 which he had been hitherto a stranger. With Peter 
 Giles of Antwerp, to whom he intrusted the publication 
 of Utopia by a prefatory dedication, he continued to be 
 closely connected during the lives of both. In the year 
 1515, he was sent again to the Netherlands on the like 
 mission. The intricate relations of traffic between the 
 two countries had given rise to a succession of disputes, 
 
 * Tonstal. Erasm. 590. Pentinger. Cologne, 9th of November, 1520. To 
 this theory neither of the parties about to contend could have assented ; 
 but it is not on that account the less likely to be in a great measure true. 
 
 t Erasm. Petro Algidio. Lond. 7th of May, 1514. Opp. iii. 135. Records 
 of the Common Council of London. 
 . J Morus Erasmo, 30th April, 1S1& 
 
 D 2
 
 36 BRITISH STATESMEX. 
 
 in which the determination of one case generally pro- 
 duced new suits. As More had in the year 1 5 1 * been 
 elected sub-sheriff of London, he obtained leave of ab- 
 sence from the mayor and aldermen of that city, " on 
 occasion of both these missions, to go upon the king's 
 ambasset to Flanders." t 
 
 In the beginning of 151 6 he was made a privy- 
 councillor ; and from that time may be dated the final 
 surrender of his own tastes for domestic life, and his 
 predilections for studious leisure, to the flattering im- 
 portunities of Henry VIII. " He had resolved," says 
 Erasmus, " to be content with his .private station ; but 
 having gone on more than one mission abroad, the king, 
 not discouraged by the unusual refusal of a pension, 
 did not rest till he had drawn More into the palace. For 
 why should I not say ' drawn,' since no man ever 
 laboured with more industry for admission to a court, 
 than More to avoid it ? The king would scarcely ever 
 suffer the philosopher to quit him. For if serious affairs 
 were to be considered, who could give more prudent 
 counsel? or if the king's mind was to be relaxed by cheer- 
 ful conversation, where could there be a more facetious 
 companion ? " J 
 
 Roper, who was an eye-witness of these circum- 
 stances, relates them with an agreeable simplicity. " So 
 from time to time was he by the king advanced, conti- 
 nuing in his singular favour and trusty service for 
 twenty years. A good part thereof used the king, 
 upon holidays, when he had done his own devotion, to 
 send for him ; and there, sometimes in matters of astro- 
 nomy, geometry, divinity, and such other faculties, and 
 sometimes on his worldly affairs, to converse with him. 
 And other whiles in the night would he have him up into 
 the leads, there to consider with him the diversities, 
 courses, motions, and operations of the stars and planets. 
 And because he was of a pleasant disposition, it pleased
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 37 
 
 the king and queen, after the council had supped at the 
 time of their own (i. e. the royal) supper, to call for 
 him to be merry with them." What Roper adds could 
 not have been discovered by a less near observer, and 
 would scarcely be credited upon less authority : " When 
 them he perceived so much in his talk to delight, that 
 he could not once in a month get leave to go home to 
 his wife and children (whose company he most desired), 
 he, much misliking this restraint on his liberty, began 
 thereupon somewhat to dissemble his nature, and so by 
 little and little from his former mirth to disuse himself, 
 that he was of them from thenceforth, at such seasons, 
 no more so ordinarily sent for." * To his retirement at 
 Chelsea, however, the king followed him. " He used of a 
 particular love to come of a sudden to Chelsea, and leaning 
 on his shoulder, to talk with him of secret counsel in his 
 garden, yea, and to dine with him upon no inviting." t 
 The taste for More's conversation, and the eagerness 
 for his company thus displayed, would be creditable to 
 the king, if his behaviour in after time had not converted 
 them into the strongest proofs of utter depravity. Even 
 in Henry's favour there was somewhat tyrannical, and 
 his very friendship was dictatorial and self-willed. It 
 was reserved for Henry afterwards to exhibit the sin- 
 gular, and perhaps solitary, example of a man who 
 was softened by no recollection of a communion of 
 counsels, of studies, of amusements, of social pleasures, 
 and who did not consider that the remembrance of inti- 
 mate friendship with such a man as More bound him 
 to the observance of common humanity, or even of bare 
 justice. In the moments of Henry's partiality, the 
 sagacity of More was not so utterly blinded by his 
 good-nature, that he did not in some degree penetrate 
 into the true character of caresses from a beast of 
 prey. " When I saw the king walking with him for 
 an hour, holding his arm about his neck, I rejoiced, 
 and said to sir Thomas, how happy he was whom the 
 king had so familiarly entertained, as I had never seen 
 * Roper, 12. t More's Life of Sir T. More, p. 49. 
 
 D 3
 
 38 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 him to do to any one before, except cardinal Wolsey. 
 ' I thank our Lord, son/ said he, ' 1 find his grace 
 my very good lord indeed, and I believe he doth as 
 singularly favour me as any other subject within this 
 realm : howbeit, son Roper, I may tell thee, I have no 
 cause to be proud thereof; for if my head would win 
 him a castle in France, when there was war between 
 us, it should not fail to go.' " * 
 
 Utopia, composed in 1516, was printed incorrectly, 
 perhaps clandestinely, at Paris. Erasmus's friend and 
 printer, Froben, brought out an exact edition at Basle 
 in 1518, which was retarded by the expectation of a 
 preface from Budde or Buddaeus, the restorer of Greek 
 learning in France, and probably the most critical 
 scholar in that province of literature on the north of 
 the Alps. It was received with loud applause by the 
 scholars of France and Germany. Erasmus confidently 
 observed to an intimate friend, that the second book hav- 
 ing been written before the first, had occasioned some 
 disorder and inequality of style ; but he particularly 
 praised its novelty and originality, and its keen satire on 
 the vices and absurdities of Europe. 
 
 So important was the office of under-sheriff then held 
 to be, that More did not resign it till the 23d of July, 
 1519+j though he had in the intermediate time served 
 the public in stations of trust and honour. In 1521 he 
 was knighted, and raised to the 1 office of treasurer of the 
 exchequer J, a station in some respects the same with 
 that of chancellor of the exchequer, who at present is 
 
 ' * Roper, 21, 22. Compare this insight into Henry's character with a de. 
 claratiop of an opposite nature, though borrowed also from castles and 
 towns, made by Charles V. when lie heard of More's murder. 
 
 f- City Records. 
 
 . i Est quod Moro gratuleris, nam Rex ilium nee ambientem nee flagitantem 
 munere magriifico honestavit addito salario nequaquam penitendo, est enim 
 principi suo a thesauris. Nee hoc contentus, equitis aurati dignitatem ad- 
 jecit. Er'asm. Budd. 1521. Opp. iii. 378. 
 
 " Then died master Weston, treasurer of the exchequer, whose office the 
 king of his own accord, without any asking, freely gave unto sir Thomas 
 More." Roper, 13. 
 
 The minute verbal coincidences which often occur between Erasmus and 
 Roper, cannot be explained otherwise than by the probable supposition, 
 that copies or originals of the correspondence between More and Erasmus 
 were preserved by Roper after the death of the former.
 
 SIB THOMAS MORE. 39 
 
 on his appointment to be designated by the additional 
 name of under-treasurer of the exchequer. It is a mi- 
 nute, but somewhat remarkable, stroke in the picture 
 of manners, that the honour of knighthood should be 
 spoken of by Erasmus, if not as of superior dignity to so 
 important an office, at least as observably adding to its 
 consequence. 
 
 From 1517 to 1522, More was employed at various 
 times at Bruges, in missions like his first to the Flemish 
 government, or at Calais in watching and conciliating 
 Francis I., with whom Henry and Wolsey long thought 
 it convenient to keep up friendly appearances. To trace 
 the date of More's reluctant journeys in the course of the 
 uninteresting attempts of politicians on both sides to gain 
 or dupe each other, would be vain, without some outline 
 of the negotiations in which he was employed, and re- 
 pulsive to most readers if the enquiry promised a better 
 chance of a successful result. Wolsey appears to have 
 occasionally appointed commissioners to conduct his own 
 affairs as well as those of his master at Calais, where 
 they received instructions from London with the greatest 
 rapidity, and whence it was easy to manage negotiations, 
 and to shift them speedily, with Brussels and Paris ; 
 with the additional advantage, that it might be somewhat 
 easier to conceal from one of those jealous courts the 
 secret dealings of that of England with the other, than 
 if the despatches had been sent directly from London to 
 the place of their destination. Of this commission More 
 was once at least an unwilling member. Erasmus, in a let- 
 ter to Peter Giles on the 15th of November, 1518, says, 
 " More is still at Calais, of which he is heartily tired. He 
 lives with great expense, and is engaged in business most 
 odious to him. Such are the rewards reserved by kings for 
 their favourites."* Two years after, More writes more 
 bitterly to Erasmus, of his own residence and occupations. 
 " I approve your determination never to be involved in 
 the busy trifling of princes ; from which, as you love me, 
 you must wish that I were extricated. You cannot 
 
 * Erasm. Opp. iii. 357. 
 D 4
 
 40 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 imagine how painfully I feel myself plunged in them, 
 for nothing can be more odious to me than this legation. 
 I am here banished to a petty sea-port, of which the air 
 and the earth are equally disagreeable to me. Abhorrent 
 as I am by nature from strife, even when it is profitable 
 as at home, you may judge how wearisome it is here 
 where it is attended by loss." * On More's journey in 
 summer 1519, he had harboured hopes of being consoled 
 by seeing Erasmus at Calais, for all the tiresome 
 pageantry, selfish scuffles, and paltry frauds, which he 
 was to witness at the congress of kings t, where More 
 could find little to abate those splenetic views of courts, 
 which his disappointed benevolence breathed in Utopia. 
 In 1521, Wolsey twice visited Calais during the resi- 
 dence of More, who appears to have then had a weight 
 in council, and a place in the royal favour, second only 
 to those of the cardinal. 
 
 . In 1523 , a parliament was held in the middle of 
 April at Westminster, in which More took a part honour- 
 able to his memory, which has been already mentioned 
 as one of the remaining fragments of his eloquence, 
 but which cannot be so shortly passed over here, 
 because it was one of those signal acts of his life which 
 must bear on it the stamp of his character. Sir John 
 More, his father, in spite of very advanced age, was 
 named at the beginning of this parliament one of " the 
 triers of petitions from Gascogny," an office of which 
 the duties had become nominal, but which still retained 
 its ancient dignity. Sir Thomas More was chosen by 
 the house of commons to be their speaker. He excused 
 himself, as usual, on the ground of alleged disability. 
 His excuse was justly pronounced to be inadmissible. 
 The journals of parliament are lost, or at least have not 
 been printed. The rolls of parliament exhibit only a 
 short account of what occurred, which is necessarily an 
 
 * Erasm. Opp. iii. 589. 
 
 t Opp. iii. 450. Morus Erasmo, e Cantuaria, 11 Jun. 1519. From the 
 dates of the following letters of Erasmus, it appears that the hopes of 
 More were disappointed. 
 
 J 14 Hen. VII I.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 41 
 
 unsatisfactory substitute for the deficient journals. But 
 as the matter personally concerns sir Thomas More, and 
 as the account of it given by his son-in-law, then an 
 inmate in his house, agrees with the abridgment of the 
 rolls, as far as the latter goes, it has been thought proper 
 in this place to insert the very words of Roper's narrative. 
 It may be reasonably conjectured that the speeches of 
 More were copied from his manuscript by his pious son- 
 in-law.* " Sith I perceive, most redoubted sovereign, 
 that it standeth not with your pleasure to reform this 
 election, and cause it to be changed, but have, by the 
 mouth of the most reverend father in God the legate, 
 your highness's chancellor, thereunto given your most 
 royal assent, and have of your benignity determined far 
 above that. I may bear for this office to repute me meet, 
 rather than that you should seem to impute unto your 
 commons that they had unmeetly chosen, I am ready 
 obediently to conform myself to the accomplishment of 
 your highness's pleasure and commandment. In most 
 humble wise I beseech your majesty that I may make to 
 you two lowly petitions ; the one privately concerning 
 myself, the other the whole assembly of your commons' 
 house. For myself, most gracious sovereign, that if it 
 mishap me in any thing hereafter, that is, on the behalf 
 of your commons in your high presence to be declared, 
 to mistake my message, and in lack of good utterance 
 by my mishearsal to prevent or impair their prudent 
 instructions, that it may then like your most noble ma- 
 jesty to give me leave to repair again unto the commons' 
 house, and to confer with them and take their advice 
 what things I shah 1 on their behalf utter and speak before 
 your royal grace. 
 
 " Mine other humble request, most excellent prince, 
 is this : forasmuch as there be of your commons here by 
 
 * This conjecture is almost raised above that name by what precedes. 
 " Sir Thomas More made an oration, not now extant, to the king's high, 
 ness, for his discharge from the speakership, whereunto when the king 
 would not consent, the speaker spoke to his grace in form following. " 
 It cannot be doubted, without injustice to the honest and amiable biogra- 
 pher, that he would have his readers to understand that the original of the 
 speeches, which actually follow, were extant in his hands.
 
 42 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 your high commandment assembled for your parliament, 
 a great number which are after the accustomed manner 
 appointed in the commons' house to heal and advise of 
 the common affairs among themselves apart ; and albeit, 
 most dear liege lord, that according to your most pru- 
 dent advice, by your honourable writs every where de- 
 clared, there hath been as due diligence used in sending 
 up to your highness's court of parliament the most 
 discreet persons out of every quarter that men could 
 esteem meet thereunto. Whereby it is not to be doubted 
 but that there is a very substantial assembly of right 
 wise, meet, and politique persons ; yet, most victorious 
 prince, sith among so many wise men, neither is every 
 man wise alike, nor among so many alike well witted, 
 every man well spoken; and it often happeth that as 
 much folly is uttered with painted polished speech, so 
 many boisterous and rude in language give right 
 substantial counsel : and sith also in matters of great 
 importance, the mind is often so occupied in the mat- 
 ter, that a man rather studieth what to say than how ; 
 by reason whereof the wisest man and best spoken 
 in a whole country fortuneth, when his mind is fervent 
 in the matter, somewhat to speak in such wise as he 
 would afterwards wish to have been uttered otherwise, 
 and yet no worse will had when he spake it than he had 
 when he would so gladly change it. Therefore, most 
 gracious sovereign, considering that in your high court 
 of parliament is nothing treated but matter of weight 
 and importance concerning your realm, and your own 
 royal estate, it could not fail to put to silence from the 
 giving of their advice and counsel many of your discreet 
 commons, to the great hindrance of your common affairs, 
 unless every one of your commons were utterly dis- 
 charged from all doubt and fear how any thing that it 
 should happen them to speak, should happen of your 
 highness to be taken. And in this point, though your 
 well-known and proved benignity putteth every man in 
 good hope; yet such is the weight of the matter, such 
 is the reverend dread that the timorous hearts of your
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 43 
 
 natural subjects conceive towards your highness, our 
 most redoubted king and undoubted sovereign, that they 
 cannot in this point find themselves satisfied, except your 
 gracious bounty therein declared put away the scruple of 
 their timorous minds, and put them outof doubt. It may 
 therefore like your most abundant grace to give to all your 
 commons here assembled your most gracious licence and 
 pardon freely, without doubt of your dreadful displea- 
 sure, every man to discharge his conscience, and boldly 
 in every thing incident among us to declare his advice ; 
 and whatsoever happeneth any man to say, that it may 
 like your noble majesty, of your inestimable goodness, to 
 take all in good part, interpreting every man's words, 
 how uncunningly soever they may be couched, to pro- 
 ceed yet of good zeal towards the profit of your realm, 
 and honour of your royal person ; and the prosperous 
 estate and preservation whereof, most excellent sovereign, 
 is the thing which we all, your majesty's humble loving 
 subjects, according to the most bounden duty of our na- 
 tural allegiance, most highly desire and pray for." 
 
 This speech, the substance of which is in the rolls 
 denominated the protest, is conformable to former usage, 
 and the model of speeches made since that time in the 
 like circumstances. What follows is more singular, and 
 not easily reconciled with the intimate connection then 
 subsisting between the speaker and the government, 
 especially with the cardinal : 
 
 " At this parliament cardinal "Wolsey found himself 
 much aggrieved with the burgesses thereof ; for that no- 
 thing was so soon done or spoken therein, but that it was 
 immediately blown abroad in every alehouse. It fortuned 
 at that parliament a very great subsidy to be demanded, 
 which the cardinal, fearing would not pass the commons' 
 house, determined, for the furtherance thereof, to be 
 there present himself. Before where coming, after long 
 debating there, whether it was better but with a few of 
 his lords, as the most opinion of the house was, or with 
 his whole train royally to receive him ; ' Masters,' quoth 
 sir Thomas More, ( forasmuch as my lord cardinal lately,
 
 44 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 ye wot well, laid to our charge the lightness of our 
 tongues for things uttered out of this house, it shall not 
 in my mind be amiss to receive him with all his pomp, 
 with his maces, his pillars, his poll-axes, his hat, and 
 great seal too ; to the intent, that if he find the like fault 
 with us hereafter, we may be the bolder from ourselves 
 to lay the blame on those whom his grace bringeth here 
 with him.' Whereunto the house wholly agreeing, he 
 was received accordingly. Where after he had by a so- 
 lemn oration, by many reasons, proved how necessary it 
 was the demand then moved to be granted, and farther 
 showed that less would not serve to maintain the prince's 
 purpose ; he seeing the company sitting still silent, and 
 thereunto nothing answering, and, contrary to his ex- 
 pectation, showing in themselves towards his request no 
 towardness of inclination, said to them, ' Masters, you 
 have many wise and learned men amongst you, and sith 
 I am from the king's own person sent hitherto unto you, 
 to the preservation of yourselves and of all the realm, I 
 think it meet you give me some reasonable answer.' 
 Whereat every man holding his peace, then began to 
 speak to one master Marney, afterwards lord Marney; 
 ' How say you,' quoth he, ' master Marney ? ' who 
 making him no answer neither, he severally asked the 
 same question of divers others, accounted the wisest of 
 the company; to whom, when none of them all would 
 give so much as one word, being agreed before, as the 
 custom was, to give answer by their speaker ; ' Masters,' 
 quoth the cardinal, ' unless it be the manner of your 
 house, as of likelihood it is, by the mouth of your 
 speaker, whom you have chosen for trusty and wise (as 
 indeed he is), in such cases to utter your minds, here is, 
 without doubt, a marvellously obstinate silence :' and 
 thereupon he required answer of Mr. Speaker; who first 
 reverently, on his knees, excusing the silence of the 
 house, abashed at the presence of so noble a personage, 
 able to amaze the wisest and best learned in a realm, 
 and then, by many probable arguments, proving that for 
 them to make answer was neither expedient nor agreeable
 
 SIB THOMAS MORE. 45 
 
 with the ancient liberty of the house ; in conclusion for 
 himself, showed, that though they had all with their 
 voices trusted him, yet except every one of them could 
 put into his own head their several wits, he alone in so 
 weighty a matter was unmeet to make his grace answer. 
 Whereupon the cardinal, displeased with sir Thomas 
 More, that had not in this parliament in all things satis- 
 fied his desire, suddenly arose and departed/'* 
 
 This passage deserves attention as a specimen of the 
 mild independence and quiet steadiness of More's cha- 
 racter, and also as a proof how he perceived the strength 
 which the commons had gained by the power of the 
 purse, which was daily and silently growing, and which 
 could be disturbed only by such an unseasonable show of 
 an immature authority as might too soon have roused the 
 crown to resistance. It is one among many instances of 
 the progress of the influence of parliaments in the midst 
 of their apparently indiscriminate submission, and it 
 affords a pregnant proof that we must not estimate the 
 spirit of our forefathers by the humility of their de- 
 meanour. 
 
 The reader will observe how nearly the example of 
 More was followed by a succeeding speaker, compara- 
 tively of no distinction, but in circumstances far more 
 memorable, in the answer of Lenthall to Charles I., 
 when that unfortunate prince came to the house of com- 
 mons to arrest five leading members of that assembly, 
 who had incurred his displeasure. 
 
 There is another point from which these early reports 
 of parliamentary speeches may be viewed, and from 
 which it is curious to consider them. They belong to 
 that critical moment in the history of our language when 
 it was forming a prose style, a written diction adapted 
 to grave and important occasions. In the passage just 
 quoted, there are about twenty words and phrases (some 
 of them, it is true, used more than once) which would 
 not now be employed. Some of them are shades, 
 such as " lowly," where we say " humble " " com- 
 
 * Roper, p. 1321.
 
 4O BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 pany," for " a house of parliament;" " simpleness," 
 for " simplicity," with a deeper tinge of folly than 
 the single word now ever has ; " right/' then used 
 as a general sign of the superlative, where we say 
 " very/' or " most /' " reverend," for " reverent/' or 
 " reverential." " If it mishap me," if it should so hap- 
 pen, " to mishap in me," " it often happeth," are in- 
 stances of the employment of the verb " hap" for happen, 
 or of a conjugation of the former, which has fallen into 
 irrecoverable disuse. A phrase was then so frequent as 
 to become, indeed, the established mode of commencing 
 an address to a superior, in which the old usage was, 
 " It may like," or " It may please your Majesty," where 
 modern language absolutely requires us to say, " May 
 it please," -by a slight inversion of the words retained, 
 but with the exclusion of the word "like" in that com- 
 bination. "Let" is used for "hinder," as is still the 
 case in some public forms, and in the excellent version 
 of the Scriptures. "Wellwitted" is a happy phrase 
 lost to the language except on familiar occasions with a 
 smile, or by a master in the art of combining words. 
 Perhaps " enable me," for " give me by your counte- 
 nance the ability which I have not," is the only phrase 
 which savours of awkwardness or of harsh effect in the 
 excellent speaker. The whole passage is a remarkable 
 example of the almost imperceptible differences which 
 mark various stages in the progress of a language. In 
 several of the above instances we see a sort of contest 
 for admission into the language between two phrases ex- 
 tremely similar, and yet a victory which excluded one of 
 them as rigidly as if the distinction had been very wide. 
 Every case where subsequent usage has altered or re- 
 jected words or phrases must be regarded as a sort of 
 national verdict, which is necessarily followed by their dis- 
 franchisement. They have no longer any claim on the 
 English language, other than that which may be pos- 
 sessed by all alien suppliants for naturalization. Such 
 examples should warn a writer, desirous to be lastingly 
 read, of the danger which attends new words, or very
 
 SIB THOMAS MORE. 47 
 
 new acceptations of those which are established, or even 
 of attempts to revive those which are altogether super- 
 annuated. They show in the clearest light that the 
 learned and the vulgar parts of language, being those 
 which are most liable to change, are unfit materials for 
 a durable style, and they teach us to look to those words 
 which form the far larger portion of ancient as ' well as 
 of modern language, that " well of English undefiled," 
 which has been happily resorted to from More to 
 Cowper, as being proved by the unimpeachable evidence 
 of that long usage to fit the rest of our speech more per- 
 fectly, and to flow more easily, clearly, and sweetly, in 
 our composition. 
 
 Erasmus tells us that Wolsey rather feared than 
 liked More. When the short session of parliament was 
 closed, Wolsey, in his gallery of Whitehall, said to More, 
 " I wish to God you had been at Rome, Mr. More, when 
 I made you speaker." " Your grace not offended, so 
 would I too, my lord," replied sir Thomas; "for then 
 should I have seen the place I long have desired to 
 visit." * More turned the conversation by saying that 
 he liked this gallery better than the cardinal's at Hamp- 
 ton Court. But the cardinal secretly brooded over his 
 revenge, which he tried to gratify by banishing More, 
 under the name of an embassador to Spain. He tried 
 to effect his purpose by magnifying the learning and 
 wisdom of More, his peculiar fitness for a conciliatory 
 adjustment of the difficult matters which were at issue 
 between the king and his kinsman the emperor. The 
 king suggested this proposal to More, who, considering 
 the unsuitableness of the Spanish climate to his consti- 
 tution, and perhaps suspecting Wolsey of sinister pur- 
 poses, earnestly besought Henry not to send his faithful 
 servant to his grave. The king, who also suspected 
 Wolsey of being actuated by jealousy, answered, " It 
 is not our meaning, Mr. More, to do you any hurt ; but 
 to do you good we should be glad. We shall therefore 
 employ you otherwise." t Sir Thomas More could boast 
 
 Roper, p. 20. f More, p. 53. with a small variation. ,
 
 48 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 that he had never asked the king the value of a penny 
 for himself. On the 25th of December, 1525*, the 
 king appointed him chancellor of the duchy of Lancas- 
 ter, as successor of sir Anthony Wingfield ; an office of 
 dignity and profit which More continued to hold for 
 nearly three years. 
 
 In the summer of 1527, Wolsey went on his magnifi- 
 cent embassy to France, in which More and other offi- 
 cers of state were joined with him. On this occasion 
 the main, though secret object of Henry was to pave the 
 way for a divorce from queen Catharine, with a view to 
 a marriage with Anne Boleyn, a young beauty who had 
 been bred at the French court, where her father, sir 
 Thomas Boleyn, created earl of Wiltshire, had been re- 
 peatedly ambassador. 
 
 On their journey to the coast, Wolsey sounded arch- 
 bishop Wareham and bishop Fisher on the important 
 secret with which he was intrusted. Wareham, an 
 estimable and amiable prelate, appears to have intimated 
 that his opinion was favourable to Henry's pursuit of a 
 divorce, t Fisher, bishop of Rochester, an aged and 
 upright man, promised Wolsey that he should do or 
 say nothing in the matter, nor in any way counsel the 
 queen, except what stood with Henry's pleasure; "for," 
 said he, " though she be queen of this realm, yet he 
 acknowledgeth you to be his sovereign lord ^ : " as if 
 the rank or authority of the parties had any concern 
 with the duty of honestly giving counsel where it is 
 
 * Such is the information which I have received from the records in the 
 Tower. The accurate writer of the article on More, in the Biographia 
 Britannica, is perplexed by finding sir Thomas More, chancellor of the 
 duchy, as one of the negotiators of a treaty in August, 1526, which seems 
 to the writer in the Biographia to bring down the death of Wingfield to 
 near that time ; he being on all sides acknowledged to be More's immediate 
 predecessor. But there is no difficulty, unless we needlessly assume that 
 the negotiation with which Wingfield was concerned related to the same 
 treaty which More concluded. On the contrary, the first appears to have 
 been a treaty with Spain ; the last a treaty with France. 
 
 t State Papers, Hen. VIII. vol. i. p. 196. 5th July, 152". Wolsey's words 
 are, " He expressly affirmed, that however displeasantly the queen took 
 this matter, yet the truth and judgment of the law must take place. I have 
 instructed him how he shall order himself if the queen shall demand his 
 counsel, which he promises me to follow." 
 
 I State Papers, H. VIII. voL L p. 168.
 
 SIB THOMAS MORE. 49 
 
 given at all. The overbearing deportment of Wolsey 
 probably overawed both these good prelates. Wolsey 
 understood them in the manner most suitable to his 
 purpose ; and, confident that he should by some means 
 finally gain them, he probably coloured very highly 
 their language in his communication to Henry, whom 
 he had just before displeased by unexpected scruples. 
 But as there are no traces known to us of an active part 
 taken by More in this negociation, it is proper to re- 
 turn to what concerned him more nearly. It was ge- 
 nerally believed that More and Fisher had corrected the 
 manuscript of Henry's answer to Luther. It is certain 
 that the propensity of the king to theological discussions 
 constituted one of the links of his intimacy with More. 
 
 As More's writings against the Lutherans were of 
 great note in his own time, as they were probably 
 those of his works on which he exerted the most acute- 
 ness, and employed most knowledge, it would be wrong 
 to omit all mention of them in an estimate of his mind, 
 or as proofs of his disposition. They contain many 
 anecdotes which throw considerable light on our eccle- 
 siastical history during the first prosecution of protes- 
 tants, or, as they were then called, Lutherans, under the 
 old statutes against Lollards, in the period which extended 
 from 1520 to 1532; and they do not seem to have been 
 enough examined with that view by the historians of 
 the church. 
 
 But our concern with them is now only as they affect 
 More. Legal responsibility, in a well-constituted com- 
 monwealth, reaches to all the avowed advisers of the 
 government, and to all those whose concurrence is neces- 
 sary to the validity of its commands. But moral re- 
 sponsibility is usually or chiefly confined to the actual 
 authors of a measure. To them general opinion allots 
 commendation or blame. It is true, that when a govern- 
 ment has attained a state of more than usual regularity, 
 the feelings of mankind become so well adapted to it, 
 that men are held to be even morally responsible for 
 sanctioning, by a base continuance in office, the bad 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 50 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 policy which may be known not to originate with them- 
 selves. These refinements were, however, unknown in 
 the reign of Henry VIII. The administration was 
 carried on under the personal direction of the monarch, 
 who generally admitted one confidential servant only 
 into his most secret counsels ; and all the other mini- 
 sters, whatever their rank might be, commonly confined 
 their attention to the business of their own office, or to 
 the execution of special commands intrusted to them. 
 This system was probably carried to its utmost height 
 under so self-willed a prince as Henry, and by so domi- 
 neering a minister as Wolsey. Although there can be 
 no doubt that More, as a privy-counsellor, attended and 
 co-operated at the examination of the unfortunate Lu- 
 therans, his conduct in that respect was regarded by his 
 contemporaries as little more than the enforcement of 
 orders which he could not lawfully decline to obey. The 
 opinion that those who disapprove are bound to resign, 
 is of very modern origin, and still not universal, espe- 
 cially if fidelity to a party be not called in to its aid. In 
 the time of Henry, a minister was not thought even 
 entitled to resign. The fact of his attendance, indeed, 
 appears in his controversial writings, especially by his 
 answer to Tyndal, printed in 1532, by John Rastall, the 
 second printer of note in England, who married Eliza- 
 beth, the sister of sir Thomas. It is not equitable to 
 treat him as effectively and morally, as well as legally, 
 answerable for measures of state, till the removal of Wol- 
 sey, and the delivery of the great seal into his own hands. 
 The injustice of considering these transactions in any 
 other light appears from the circumstance, that though 
 he was joined with Wolsey in the splendid embassy to 
 France in 1527, there is no reason to suppose that 
 More was intrusted with the secret and main purpose 
 of the embassy, that of facilitating a divorce and a 
 second marriage. His responsibility, in its most im- 
 portant and only practical part, must be contracted to 
 the short time which extends from the 25th of October, 
 1529, when he was appointed chancellor, to the l6th of
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 51 
 
 May, 1532, when he was removed from his office, not 
 much more than two years and a half.* Even within 
 these narrow limits, it must be remembered, that he 
 found the system of persecution established, and its 
 machinery in a state of activity. The prelates, like 
 most other prelates in Europe, did their part in convict- 
 ing the protestants of Lollardy in the spiritual courts, 
 who were the competent judges of that offence. Our 
 means of determining what executions for Lollardy (if 
 any) took place when More had a decisive ascendant in 
 the royal councils, are very imperfect. If it were cer- 
 tain that he was the adviser of such executions, it would 
 only follow that he executed one part of the criminal 
 law, without approving it, as succeeding judges have 
 certainly done in cases of fraud and theft, where they 
 no more approved the punishment of death than the 
 author of Utopia might have done in its application to 
 heresy. If the progress of civilisation be not checked, 
 we seem not far from the period when such capital 
 punishments will appear as little consistent with hu- 
 manity, and indeed with justice, as the burning of 
 heretics now appears to us. More himself deprecates 
 an appeal to his writings and those of his friend Erasmus, 
 innocently intended by them, but abused by incendiaries, 
 to inflame the fury of the ignorant multitude.t " Men," 
 says he (alluding evidently to Utopia), " cannot almost 
 now speak of such things insomuch as in play, but that 
 such evil hearers were a great deal the worse." " I 
 would not now translate the Moria of Erasmus, even 
 some works that I myself have written ere this, into 
 English, albeit there be none harm therein." It is evi- 
 dent that the two philosophers, who found all their fair 
 visions dispelled by noise and violence, deeply felt the 
 injustice of citing against them, as a proof of inconsist- 
 ency, that they departed from the pleasantries, the gay 
 dreams, at most the fond speculations, of their early 
 days, when they saw these harmless visions turned into 
 
 * Information from Records in the Tower. 
 
 t More's Answer to Tyndal, part i. p. 128. Printed by John Rastall, 1531 
 E 2
 
 52 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 weapons of destruction in the blood-stained hands of the 
 boors of Saxony, and of the ferocious fanatics of Mun- 
 ster. The virtuous love of peace might be more pre- 
 valent in More ; the Epicurean desire of personal ease 
 predominated more in Erasmus. But both were, doubtless 
 from commendable or excusable causes, incensed against 
 those odious disciples, who now, " with no friendly 
 voice," invoked their authority against themselves. 
 
 If, however, we examine the question on the grounds 
 of positive testimony, it is impossible to appeal to a wit- 
 ness of more weight than Erasmus. " It is," said he, 
 " a sufficient proof of his clemency, that while he was 
 chancellor no man was put to death for these pestilent 
 dogmas, while so many have suffered capital punishment 
 for them in France, in Germany, and in the Nether- 
 lands." * The only charges against him on this subject, 
 which are adverted to by himself, relate to minor seve- 
 rities ; but as these may be marks of more cruelty than 
 the infliction of death, let us listen on this subject to the 
 words of the merciful and righteous man.t 
 
 " Divers of them have said that of such as were in my 
 house when I was chancellor, I used to examine them 
 with torments, causing them to be bound to a tree in my 
 garden, and there piteously beaten. Except their sure 
 keeping, I never did else cause any such thing to be done 
 unto any of the heretics in all my life, except only twain : 
 one was a child and a servant of mine in mine own house, 
 whom his father, ere he came to me, had nursed up in 
 such matters, and set him to attend upon George Jay. 
 This Jay did teach the child his ungracious heresy against 
 the blessed sacrament of the altar; which heresy this child 
 in my house began to teach another child. And upon 
 that point I caused a servant of mine to strip him like a 
 child before mine household, for amendment of himself 
 and ensam pie of others." " Another was one who, after 
 he had fallen into these frantic heresies, soon fell into 
 plain open frensy : albeit that he had been in bedlam, 
 
 * Erasm. Fabio Episc. Vienn. (Vienne in Dauphine), Opp. iii. 1811. 
 t More's Apology, c. 36. English Works, pp. 900, 901. edition 1557.
 
 SIB THOMAS MORE. 53 
 
 and afterwards by beating and correction gathered his 
 remembrance*; being therefore set at liberty, his old 
 frensies fell again into his head. Being informed of his 
 relapse, I caused him to be taken by the constables and 
 bounden to a tree in the street before the whole town, 
 and there striped him till he waxed weary. Verily, God 
 be thanked, I hear no harm of him now. And of all who 
 ever came in my hand for heresy, as help me God, else 
 had never any of them any stripe or stroke given them, 
 so much as a fillip in the forehead." '\~ 
 
 This statement, so minute, so easily confuted, if in any 
 part false, was made public after his fall from power, 
 when he was surrounded by enemies, and could have no 
 friends but the generous. It relates circumstances of 
 public notoriety, or at least so known to all his own 
 household (from which it appears that protestant ser- 
 vants were not excluded), which it would have been 
 rather a proof of insanity than of imprudence to have 
 alleged in his defence, if they had not been indisputably 
 am confessedly true. Wherever he touches this subject, 
 there is a quietness and a circumstantiality, which are 
 among the least equivocal marks of a man who adheres 
 to the temper most favourable to the truth, because he is 
 conscious that the truth is favourable to him. J Without 
 relying, therefore, on the character of More for probity 
 and veracity (which it is derogatory to him to employ for 
 such a purpose), the evidence of his humanity having 
 prevailed over his opinion decisively outweighs the little 
 positive testimony produced against him. The charge 
 against More rests originally on Fox alone, from whom 
 it is copied by Burnet, and with considerable hesitation 
 by Strype. But the honest martyrologist writes too 
 
 * Such was then the mode of curing insanity. 
 
 f Apology, c. 36. English Works, p. 902. 
 
 i There is a remarkable instance of this observation in More's Dialogue, 
 book iii. chap, xvi., where he tells, somewhat prolixly, the story of Richard 
 Dunn, who was found dead, and hanging in the Lollard's Tower. The 
 only part taken by More in this affair was his share as a privy councillor in 
 the enquiry, whether Dunn hanged himself, or was murdered and then 
 hanged up by the bishop of London's chancellor. The evidence to prove 
 that the death could not be suicide, was as absurd as the story of the bishop's 
 chancellor was improbable. He was afterwards, however, convicted by a 
 jury, but pardoned, it should seem rightly, by the king. 
 
 E 3
 
 54 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 inaccurately to be a weighty witness in this case : for he 
 tells us that Firth was put to death in June 1533, and 
 yet imputes it to More, who had resigned his office a 
 year before. In the case of James Baynham, he only 
 says that the accused was chained to two posts for two 
 nights in More's house, at some not specified distance of 
 time before his execution. 
 
 Burnet, who had translated Utopia into English, in 
 mentioning the extreme toleration taught in that work, 
 truly observes, that if More had died at the time of its 
 publication, " he would have been reckoned among those 
 who only wanted a fit opportunity of declaring themselves 
 openly for a reformation." * The same sincere and up- 
 right writer was too zealous for an historian, when he 
 added: "When More was raised to the chief post in 
 the ministry, he became a persecutor even to blood, and 
 defiled those hands which werenever polluted with bribes." 
 In excuse for the total silence of the honest bishop re- 
 specting the opposite testimony of More himself (of 
 whom Burnet speaks even then with reverence), the 
 reader must be reminded that the third volume of the 
 History of the Reformation was written in the old age of 
 the bishop of Salisbury, thirty years after those more labo- 
 rious researches, which attended the composition of the 
 two former volumes, and under the influence of those 
 animosities against the Roman catholic church, which the 
 conspiracy of queen Anne's last ministers against the re- 
 volution had revived with more than their youthful vigour. 
 It must be owned that he from the commencement ac- 
 quiesced too lightly in the allegations of Fox ; and it is 
 certain, that if the fact, however deplorable, had been 
 better proved, yet in that age it would not have war- 
 ranted such asperity of condemnation. t 
 
 * Burnet, Hist, of Reform, iii. part i. p. 45. Ixmd. 1820. 
 
 t The change of opinion in Erasmus, and the less remarkahle change of 
 More in the same respect, is somewhat excused by the excesses and disor- 
 ders which followed the reformation. " To believe," says Bayle, " that the 
 church required reformation, and to approve a particular manner of re- 
 forming it, are two very different things. To blame the opponents of re- 
 formation, and to disapprove the conduct of the reformers, are two things
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 55 
 
 The date of the work in which More denies the charge, 
 and challenges his accusers to produce their proofs, would 
 have roused the attention of Burnet if he had read it. 
 This book, entitled " The Apology of Sir Thomas More," 
 was written in 1533, " after he had given over the office 
 of lord chancellor," and when he was in daily expect- 
 ation of being committed to the Tower. Defenceless 
 and obnoxious as he then was, no man was hardy enough 
 to dispute his truth. Fox was the first who, thirty years 
 afterwards, ventured to oppose it in a vague statement, 
 which we know to be in some respects inaccurate ; and 
 on this slender authority alone has rested such an im- 
 putation on the veracity of the most sincere of men. 
 Whoever reads the Apology will perceive, from the 
 melancholy ingenuousness with which he speaks of the 
 growing unpopularity of his religion in the court and 
 country, that he could not have hoped to escape ex- 
 posure, if it had been then possible to question his 
 declaration. * 
 
 On the whole, then, More must not only be absolved ; 
 but when we consider that his administration occurred 
 during a hot paroxysm of persecution ; that intolerance 
 was the creed of his age ; that he himself, in his days of 
 compliance and ambition, had been drawn over to it as 
 a theory ; that he was filled with alarm and horror by 
 the excesses of the heretical insurgents in Germany ; we 
 must pronounce him, by his abstinence from any prac- 
 tical share in it, to have given stronger proofs than any 
 other man, of a repugnance to that execrable practice, 
 founded on the unshaken basis of his natural humanity. 
 
 The fourth book of More's Dialogue f exhibits a lively 
 
 very compatible. A man may then imitate Erasmus, without being an 
 apostate or a traitor." Diet, de Bayle, ii. p. 91. art. Castellan. 
 
 These are positions too reasonable to be practically believed, at the time 
 when their adoption would be most useful. 
 
 * In the Apology, sir T. More states four tenths of the people as unable 
 to read ; probably an overrated estimate of the number of readers. 
 
 f Dialogue of sir Thomas More, touching the pestilent sect of Luther, 
 composed and published when he was chancellor of the duchy of Lan- 
 caster, " but newly oversene by the said sir T. More, chancellor of Eng- 
 land," 1530. 
 
 B 4
 
 56 BRITISH STATESMEN'. 
 
 picture of the horror with which the excesses of the re- 
 formers had filled the mind of this good man, whose 
 justice and even humanity were disturbed, so far at least 
 as to betray him into a bitterness of language and harsh- 
 ness of opinion foreign from his general temper. The 
 events themselves are, it must be owned, sufficient to 
 provoke the meekest, to appal the firmest of men. " The 
 temporal lords," he tells us, " were glad to hear the cry 
 against the clergy; the people were glad to hear it against 
 the clergy and the lords too. They rebelled first against 
 an abbot, and after against a bishop, wherewith the tem- 
 poral lords had good game and sport, and dissembled 
 the matter, gaping after the lands of the spirituality, till 
 they had almost played, as .ZEsop telleth of the dog, 
 which, to snatch at the shadow of the cheese in the water, 
 let fall and lost the cheese which he bare in his mouth. 
 " The uplandish Lutherans set upon the temporal lords : 
 they slew 70,000 Lutherans in one summer, and sub- 
 dued the remnant in that part of Almayne into a right 
 miserable servitude. Of this sect was the great part * 
 of those ungracious people which of late entered Rome 
 with the duke of Bourbon." The description of the 
 horrible crimes perpetrated on that occasion is so dis- 
 gusting in some of its particulars, as to be unfit for the 
 decency of historical narrative. One specimen will suf- 
 fice, which, considering the constant intercourse between 
 England and Rome, is not unlikely to have been related 
 to More by an eye-witness : " Some took children and 
 bound them to torches, and brought them gradually nearer 
 to the fire to be roasted, while the fathers and mothers 
 were looking on, and then began to speak of a price for 
 the sparing of the children ; asking first 1 00 ducats, 
 then 50, then 40, then at last offered to take twain : 
 after they had taken the last ducat from the father, then 
 would they let the child roast to death." This wicked- 
 ness ( More contended) was the fruit of Luther's doctrine 
 of predestination ; " for what good deed can a man study 
 or labour to do, who believeth Luther, that he hath no 
 A violent exaggeration.
 
 SIB THOMAS MORE. 57 
 
 free will of his own." * " If the world were not near 
 an end, and the fervour of devotion almost quenched, it 
 could never have come to pass that so many people should 
 fall to the following of so beastly a sect." He urges at 
 very great length, and with great ability, the tendency 
 of belief in destiny to overthrow morality ; and represents 
 it as an opinion of which, on account of its incompati- 
 bility with the order of society, the civil magistrate may 
 lawfully punish the promulgation ; little aware how de- 
 cisively experience was about to confute such reasoning, 
 however specious, by the examples of nations, who, 
 though their whole religion was founded on predestin- 
 ation, were, nevertheless, the most moral portion of man- 
 kind.t " The fear," says More, " of outrages and mis- 
 chiefs to follow upon such heresies, with the proof that 
 men have had in some countries thereof, have been the 
 cause that princes and people have been constrained to 
 punish heresies by a terrible death ; whereas else more 
 easy ways had been taken with them. If the heretics 
 had never begun with vk once, good Christian people had 
 peradventure used less violence against them : while they 
 forbare violence, there was little violence done unto them. 
 ' By my soul,' -quoth your friend , ' I would all the 
 world were agreed to take violence and compulsion away.' 
 ' And sooth,' said I, ' if it were so, yet would God be 
 too strong for his enemies.' " In answer, he faintly 
 attempts to distinguish the case of pagans, who may be 
 tolerated, in order to induce them to tolerate Christians, 
 from that of heretics, from which no such advantage was 
 to be obtained in exchange; a distinction, however, which 
 disappeared as soon as the supposed heretics acquired 
 supreme power. At last, however, he concludes with a 
 sentence which sufficiently intimates the inclination of 
 his judgment, and shows that his ancient opinions still 
 prevailed in the midst of fear and abhorrence. " And 
 
 * Dialogue, book IT. c. 8. 
 
 f Switzerland, Holland, Scotland, English puritans, New England, 
 French huguenots, &c. 
 
 J This wish is put into the mouth of the adverse speaker in the 
 Dialogue.
 
 58 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 yet, as I said in the beginning, never were they by any 
 temporal punishment of their bodies any thing sharply 
 handled till they began to be violent themselves." It is 
 evident that his mind misgave him when he appeared to 
 assent to intolerance as a principle ; for otherwise there 
 was no reason for repeatedly relying on the defence of 
 society against aggression as its justification. His si- 
 lence, however, respecting the notorious fact, that Luther 
 strained every nerve to suppress the German insurgents, 
 can never be excused by the sophistry which ascribes to 
 all reformers the evil done by those who abuse their 
 names. It was too much to say that Luther should not 
 have uttered what he believed to be sacred and necessary 
 truth, because evil-doers took occasion from it to screen 
 their bad deeds. This controversial artifice, however 
 grossly unjust, is yet so plausible and popular, that per- 
 haps no polemic ever had virtue enough to resist the 
 temptation of employing it. What other controversial- 
 ist can be named, who, having the power to crush an- 
 tagonists whom he viewed as the disturbers of the quiet 
 of his own declining age, the destroyers of all the hopes 
 which he had cherished for mankind, contented himself 
 with severity of language (for which he humbly excuses 
 himself in his " Apology," in some measure a dying 
 work,) and with one instance of unfair inference against 
 opponents who were too zealous to be merciful. 
 
 In the autumn of 1529 More returned from Cam- 
 bray, where he had been once more joined in commission 
 with his friend Tunstall as ambassador to the emperor. 
 He paid a visit to the court, then at Woodstock. A 
 private letter written from court to his wife, on occasion 
 of a mishap at home, which is inserted to afford a little 
 glimpse into the management of his most homely con- 
 cerns, and especially as a specimen of his regard for a 
 deserving woman, who was, probably, too " coarsely 
 kind" even to have inspired him with tenderness.* 
 
 * In More's metrical inscription for his own monument, we find a just 
 but long, and somewhat laboured, commendation of Alice, which in ten. 
 derness is outweighed by one word applied to the long departed companion 
 of his youth. 
 t " Chara Thonue jacethic Joanna uxorcula Mori." English Works, 1420.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 59 
 
 " Mistress Alyce, in my most harty will, I recomend me 
 to you. And whereas I am enfourmed by my son Heron 
 of the loss of our barnes and our neighbours also, w l all 
 the corne that was therein, albeit (saving God's pleasure) 
 it is gret pitie of so much good corne lost, yet sith it hath 
 liked hym to send us such a chance, we must saie 
 bounden, not only to be content, but also to be glad of 
 his visitation. He sent us all that we have lost : and 
 sith he hath by such a chance taken it away againe, his 
 pleasure be fulfilled. Let us never grudge thereat, but 
 take it in good worth, and hartely thank him, as well 
 for adversitie, as for prosperitie. And par adventure we 
 have more cause to thank him for our losse, than for our 
 winning. For his wisedom better seeth what is good 
 for us then we do ourselves. Therefore I pray you be 
 of good cheere, and take all the howsold with you to 
 church, and there thank God both for that he hath given 
 us, and for that he has left us, which if it please hym, 
 he can increase when he will. And if it please him to 
 leave us yet lesse, at hys pleasure be it. I praye you to 
 make some good ensearche what my poor neighbours 
 have loste, and bidde them take no thought therefore, 
 and if I shold not leave myself a spone, there shall no 
 poore neighbour of mine bere no losse by any chance 
 happened in my house. I pray you be with my children 
 and household mery in God. And devise somewhat 
 with your friends, what way wer best to take, for pro- 
 vision to be made for corne for our household and for 
 sede thys yere coming, if ye thinke it good that we keepe 
 the ground still in our handes. And whether ye think 
 it good y* we so shall do or not, yet I think it were 
 not best sodenlye thus to leave it all up, and to put 
 away our folk of our farme, till we have somewhat 
 advised us thereon. Howbeit if we have more nowe 
 than ye shall neede, and which can get the other maisters, 
 ye may then discharge us of them. But I would not 
 that any man wer sodenly sent away he wote nere 
 wether. At my coming hither, I perceived none other, 
 but that I shold tary still with the kinges grace. But
 
 60 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 now I shall (I think), because of this chance, get leave 
 this next weke to come home and se you ; and then 
 shall we further devise together uppon all thinges, what 
 order shall be best to take : and thus as hartely fare you 
 well with all our children as you can wishe. At Wood- 
 stok the thirde daye of Septembre, by the hand of 
 " Your loving husband, 
 
 " THOMAS MORE, Knight." 
 
 A new scene now opened on More, of whose private 
 life the above simple letter enables us to form no inade- 
 quate or unpleasing estimate. On the 25th of October 
 1529, sixteen days after the commencement of the pro- 
 secution against Wblsey, the king, by delivering the great 
 seal to him at Greenwich, constituted him lord chan- 
 cellor, the highest dignity of the state and of the law, 
 which had been generally held by ecclesiastics.* A 
 very summary account of the nature of this high office 
 may perhaps prevent some cbnfusion respecting it among 
 those who know it only in ite. present stat. The office of 
 chancellor was known to all the European governments, 
 who borrowed it, like many other institutions, from the 
 usage of the vanquished Romans. In those of England 
 and France, which most resembled each other, and whose 
 history is most familiar and most interesting to ust, the 
 chancellor, whose office had been a conspicuous dignity 
 under the lower empire, was originally a secretary who de- 
 rived a great part of his consequence from the trust of hold- 
 ing the king's seal, the substitute for subscription under 
 illiterate monarchs, and the stamp of legal authority in 
 more cultivated times. From his constant access to the 
 king, he acquired every where some authority in the cases 
 which were the frequent subject of complaint to the 
 crown. In France, he became a minister of state with a 
 peculiar superintendence over courts of justice, and some 
 remains of a special jurisdiction, which continued till the 
 downfall of the French monarchy. In the English 
 
 i * Thorpe, in 1371, and Knivet, in 1372, seem to be the last exceptions. 
 
 f Ducange and Spelman Gloss, in voce " Cancellarius," who give us the 
 series of chancellor in both countries.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 6l 
 
 chancellor were gradually united the characters of a legal 
 magistrate and a political adviser ; and since that time 
 the office has been] confined to lawyers in eminent 
 practice. He has been presumed to have a due reverence 
 for the law, as well as a familiar acquaintance with it, 
 and his presence and weight in the counsels of a free 
 commonwealth have been regarded as links which bind 
 the state to the law. 
 
 One of the earliest branches of the chancellor's duties 
 seems, by slow degrees, to have enlarged his jurisdiction 
 to the extent which it reached in modern times.* From 
 the chancery issued those writs which first put the ma- 
 chinery of law in motion in every case where legal re- 
 dress existed. In that court new writs were framed, 
 when it was fit to adapt the proceedings to the cir- 
 cumstances of a new case. When a case arose in which 
 it appeared that the course and order of the common 
 law could hardly be adapted, by any variation in the 
 forms of procedure, to the demands of justice, the com- 
 plaint was laid, by the chancellor, before the king, who 
 commanded it to be considered in council ; a prac- 
 tice which, by degrees, led to a reference to that 
 magistrate himself. To facilitate an equitable deter- 
 mination in such complaints, the writ was devised called 
 the writ of subpoena, commanding the person complained 
 of to appear before the chancellor, and to answer the 
 complaint. The essential words of a petition for this 
 writ, which in process of time has become of so great 
 importance, were in the reign of Richard III. as follows : 
 " Please it therefore, your lordship, considering that 
 your orator has no remedy by course of the common 
 law, to grant a writ subpoena, commanding T. Coke to 
 appear in chancery, at a certain day, and upon a certain 
 pain to be limited by you, and then to do what by this 
 court shall be thought reasonable and according to 
 conscience." The form was not materially different in 
 the earliest instances, which appear to have occurred from 
 
 * " Non facile est digito monstrare quibus gradibus, sed conjecturam ac- 
 cipe." Spel. in voc. Cancellarius.
 
 62 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 1380 to 1400. It appears that this device was not 
 first .employed to enforce the observance of the duties of 
 trustees who held lands, as has been hitherto supposed*, 
 but for cases of an extremely different nature, where 
 the failure of justice in the .ordinary courts might 
 ensue, not from any defect in the common law, but 
 from the power of turbulent barons, who, in their acts 
 of outrage and lawless violence, bade defiance to all 
 ordinary jurisdiction. In some of the earliest cases we 
 find a statement of the age and poverty of the com- 
 plainant, and of the power, and even learning, of the 
 supposed wrong-doer ; topics addressed to compassion, 
 or at most to equity in a very loose and popular sense 
 of the word, which throw light on the original nature 
 of this high jurisdiction. It is apparent, from the 
 earliest cases in the reign of Richard II., that the occa- 
 sional relief proceeding from mixed feelings of pity 
 and of regard to substantial justice, not effectually aided 
 by law, or overpowered by tyrannical violence, had then 
 grown into a regular system, and was subject to rules 
 resembling those of legal jurisdiction. At first sight it 
 may appear difficult to conceive how ecclesiastics could 
 have moulded into a regular form this anomalous branch 
 of jurisprudence. But many of the ecclesiastical order, 
 originally the only, lawyers, were eminently skilled in 
 the civil and canon law, which had attained an order and 
 precision unknown to the digests of barbarous usages 
 then attempted in France and England. The eccle- 
 siastical chancellors introduced into their court a course 
 of proceeding very similar to that adopted by other 
 
 * Blackstone, book iii. c. 4. 
 
 t Calendars of Proceedings in Chanc. temp. Eliz. [London, 1827.] 
 Often of these suits which occurred in the last ten years of the fourteenth 
 century, one complains of ouster from land by violence; another, of exclu- 
 sion from a benefice, by a writ obtained from the king under false sugges- 
 tions ; a third, for the seizure of a freeman, under pretext of being a 
 slave (or nief) ; a fourth, for being disturbed in the enjoyment of land by 
 a trespasser, abetted by the sheriff'; a fifth, for imprisonment on a false al- 
 legation of debt. No case is extant prior to the first year of Henry V., which 
 relates to the trust of lands, which eminent writers have represented as 
 the original object of this jurisdiction. In the reign of Henry VI. there is a 
 bill against certain Wycliffites for outrages done to the plaintiff, Robert 
 Burton, chanter of the cathedral of Lincoln, on account of his zeal as an 
 inquisitor in the diocese of Lincoln, to convict and punish heretics.
 
 SIR THOMAS MOKE. 63 
 
 European nations, who all owned the authority of the 
 canon law,, and were enlightened by the wisdom of. the 
 Roman code. The proceedings in chancery, lately re- 
 covered from oblivion, show the system to have been 
 in regular activity about a century and a half before the 
 chancellorship of sir Thomas More, the first common 
 lawyer who held the great seal since the chancellor had 
 laid any foundations (known to us) of his equitable 
 jurisdiction. The course of education, and even of 
 negotiation in that age, conferred on More, who was 
 the most distinguished of the practisers of the common 
 law, the learning and ability of a civilian and a canonist. 
 In his administration, from the 25th of October 1529, 
 to the l6th of May 1532, four hundred bills and 
 answers are still preserved, which afford an average of 
 about a hundred and sixty suits annually. Though this 
 average may by no means adequately represent the 
 whole occupations of a court which had many other 
 duties to perform, it supplies us with some means of 
 comparing the extent of its business under him with 
 the number of similar proceedings in succeeding times. 
 The whole amount of bills and answers in the reign of 
 James I. was 32,000. How far the number may have 
 differed at different parts of that reign, the unarranged 
 state of the records does not yet enable us to ascertain. 
 But supposing it, by a rough estimate, to have continued 
 the same, the annual average of bills and answers during 
 the four years of lord Bacon's administration was 1461, 
 being an increase of nearly ten -fold in somewhat less 
 than a century. Though causes connected with the 
 progress of the jurisdiction and the character of the 
 chancellor must have contributed to this remarkable 
 increase, yet it must be ascribed principally to the extra- 
 ordinary impulse given to daring enterprise and national 
 wealth by the splendid administration of Elizabeth, 
 which multiplied alike the occasions of litigation and 
 the means of carrying it on. * In a century and a half 
 
 * From a letter of lord Bacon (Lords' Journals, 20th March, 1680,) it 
 appears that he made 2000 decrees and orders in a year; so that in his
 
 O4 BRITISH STATESMEN'. 
 
 after, when equitable jurisdiction was completed in its 
 foundations and most necessary parts by lord chancellor 
 Nottingham, the whole number of equity suits was about 
 fifteen thousand, which yields an average of sixteen hun- 
 dred and fifty to every year of his chancellorship.* 
 
 Under lord Hardwicke, the chancellor of most profes- 
 sional celebrity, the yearly average of bills and answers 
 appears to have been about two thousand ; probably in 
 part because more questions had been finally determined, 
 and partly also because the delays were so aggravated by 
 the multiplicity of business, that parties aggrieved chose 
 rather to submit to wrong than to be ruined in pursuit 
 of right. This last mischief arose in a great measure 
 from the variety of affairs added to the original duties 
 of a chancellor, of which the principal were bankruptcy 
 and parliamentary appeals. Both these causes continued 
 to act with increasing force ; so that, in spite of a vast 
 increase of the property and dealings of the kingdom, 
 the average number of bills and answers was consider- 
 ably less from 1800 to 1809 than it had been from 
 1745 to 1754.t 
 
 It must not be supposed that men trained in any sys- 
 tem of jurisprudence, as the ecclesiastical chancellors, 
 could have been indifferent to the inconvenience and 
 vexation which necessarily harass the holders of a merely 
 arbitrary power. Not having a law, they were a law 
 unto themselves ; and every chancellor who contributed 
 by a determination to establish a principle, became in- 
 strumental in circumscribing the power of his suc- 
 cessor. Selden is, indeed, represented to have said, that 
 equity is according to the conscience of him who is 
 chancellor ; which is as uncertain as if we made the 
 chancellor's foot the standard for the measure which we 
 call a foot. ^ But this was spoken in the looseness of 
 
 time the bills and answers amounted to about two thirds of the whole bu- 
 siness. 
 
 * The numbers have been obligingly supplied by the gentlemen of the 
 Record Office in the Tower. 
 
 f Account of Proceedings in Parliament relative to the Court of Chan- 
 cery. By C. P. Cooper, Esq. p. 102, &c. London, 1828. A work equally 
 remarkable for knowledge and acuteness. 
 
 t Table Talk, p. 55. Edinburgh, 1809.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 65 
 
 table-talk, and under the influence of the prejudices then 
 prevalent among common lawyers against equitable ju- 
 risdiction. Still, perhaps, in his time what he said might 
 be true enough for a smart saying. But in process of 
 time a system of rules was established which has con- 
 stantly tended to limit the originally discretionary powers 
 of the Chancery. Equity, in the acceptation in which 
 that word is used in English jurisprudence, is no longer 
 to be confounded with that moral equity which generally 
 corrects the unjust operation of law, and with which it 
 seems to have been synonymous in the days of Selden 
 and Bacon. It is a part of law formed from usages and 
 determinations which sometimes differ from what is 
 called common law in its subjects, but chiefly varies from 
 it in its modes of proof, of trial, and of relief; it is a 
 jurisdiction so irregularly formed, and often so little de- 
 pendent on general principles, that it can hardly be de- 
 fined or made intelligible otherwise than by a minute 
 enumeration of the matters cognisable by it. * 
 
 It will be seen from the above that sir Thomas More's 
 duties differed very widely from the various exertions of 
 labour and intellect required from a modern chancellor. 
 At the utmost he did not hear more than two hun- 
 dred cases and arguments yearly, including those of every 
 description. No authentic account of any case tried 
 before him, if any such be extant, has been yet brought 
 to light. No law book alludes to any part of his judg- 
 ments or reasonings. Nothing of this higher part of 
 his judicial life is preserved, which can warrant us in be- 
 lieving more than that it must have displayed his never- 
 failing integrity, reason, learning, and eloquence. 
 
 The particulars of his instalment are not unworthy of 
 being specified as a proof of the reverence for his en- 
 dowments and excellences professed by the king and 
 entertained by the public, to whose judgment the mini- 
 sters of Henry seemed virtually to appeal, with an assu- 
 rance that the king's appointment would be ratified by 
 
 * Blackstone, book iii. c. 27. Lord Hardwicke's Letter to Lord Kames, 
 30th June, 1757. Lord Woodhouselee's Life of Lord Kames, vol. i. p. 237. 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 the general voice. " He was led between the dukes of 
 Norfolk and Suffolk up Westminster Hall to the Stone 
 Chamber, and there they honourably placed him in the 
 high judgment-seat of chancellor*;" (for the chancellor 
 was, by his office, the president of that terrible tribunal.) 
 " The duke of Norfolk, premier peer and lord high 
 treasurer of England," continues the biographer, " by 
 the command of the king, spoke thus unto the people 
 there with great applause and joy gathered together : 
 
 ' The king's majesty (which, I pray God, may prove 
 happie and fortunate to the whole realme of England) 
 hath raised to the most high dignitie of chancellourship 
 sir Thomas More, a man for his extraordinarie worth 
 and sufficiencie well knowne to himself and the whole 
 realme, for no other cause or earthlie respect, but for 
 that he hath plainely perceaved all the gifts of nature 
 and grace to be heaped upon him, which either the people 
 could desire, or himself wish, for the discharge of so 
 great an office. For the admirable wisedome, integritie, 
 and innocencie, joyned with most pleasant facilitie of 
 witt, that this man is endowed withall, have been suf- 
 ficiently knowen to all Englishmen from his youth, and 
 for these manie yeares also to the king's majestic himself. 
 This hath the king abundantly found in manie and 
 weightie affayres, which he hath happily dispatched both 
 at home and abroad ; in diverse offices which he hath 
 born, in most honourable embassages which he hath un- 
 dergone ; and in his daily counsell and advises upon all 
 other occasions. He hath perceaved no man in his 
 realme to be more wise in deliberating, more sincere in 
 opening to him what he thought, nor more eloquent to 
 adorne the matter which he uttered. Wherefore, be- 
 cause he saw in him such excellent endowments, and 
 that of his especiall care he hath a particular desire that 
 his kingdome and people might be governed with all 
 equitie and justice, integritie and wisedome ; he of his 
 owne most gracious disposition hath created this singular 
 man lord chancellor ; that, by his laudable performance 
 
 * More's Life of Sir X. More, 156. 163.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 
 
 67 
 
 of this office, his people may enjoy peace and justice ; 
 and honour also and fame may redounde to the whole 
 kingdome. It may perhaps seeme to manie a strange 
 and unusuall matter, that this dignitie should be bestowed 
 upon a layman, none of the nobilitie, and one that hath 
 wife and children ; because heretofore none but singular 
 learned prelates, or men of greatest nobilitie, have pos- 
 sessed this place ; but Avhat is wanting in these respects, 
 the admirable vertues, the matchless guifts of witt and 
 wisedome of this man, doth most plentifully recompence 
 the same. For the king's majestic hath not regarded 
 how great, but what a man he was ; he hath not cast 
 his eyes upon the nobilitie of his bloud, but on the 
 worth of his person ; he hath respected his sufficiencie, 
 not his profession ; finally, he would show by this his 
 choyce, that he hath some rare subjects amongst the 
 rowe of gentlemen and laymen, who deserve to manage 
 the highest offices of the realme, which bishops and 
 noblemen think they only can deserve. The rarer there- 
 fore it was, so much both himself held it to be the more 
 excellent, and to his people he thought it would be the 
 more gratefull. Wherefore, receave this your chancellour 
 with joyful acclamations, at whose hands you may ex- 
 pect all happinesse and content.' 
 
 " Sir Thomas More, according to his wonted modestie, 
 was somewhat abashed at this the duke's speech, in that 
 it sounded so much to his praise ; but recollecting him- 
 self as that place and time would give him leave, he 
 answered in this sorter ' Although, most noble duke, 
 and you right honourable lords, and worshipfull gen- 
 tlemen, I knowe all these things, which the king's 
 majestie, it seemeth, hath bene pleased should be spoken 
 of me at this time and place, and your grace hath with 
 most eloquent wordes thus amplifyed, are as far from me, 
 as I could wish with all my hart they were in me for 
 the better performance of so great a charge ; and 
 although this your speach hath caused in me greater 
 feare than I can well express in words : yet this incom- 
 parable favour of my dread soueraigne, by which he 
 p 2
 
 68 
 
 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 showeth how well, yea how highly he conceaveth of my 
 weakenesse, having commanded that my meanesse should 
 be so greatly commended, cannot be but most acceptable 
 unto me : and I cannot choose but give your most noble 
 grace exceeding thankes, that what his majestic hath 
 willed you briefly to utter, you, of the abundance of your 
 love unto me, have in a large and eloquent oration di- 
 lated. As for myself, I can take it no otherwise, but 
 that his majestie's incomparable favour towards me, the 
 good will and incredible propension of his royall minde 
 (wherewith he hath these manie yeares favoured me 
 continually) hath alone without anie desert of mine at 
 all, caused both this my new honour, and these your 
 undeserved commendations of me. For who am I, or 
 what is the house of my father, that the king's high- 
 nesse should heape upon me by such a perpetuall streame 
 of affection, these so high honours ? I am farre lesse 
 then anie the meanest of his benefitts bestowed on me ; 
 how can I then thinke myself worthie or fitt for this so 
 peerlesse dignitie ? I have bene drawen by force, as the 
 king's majestic often professeth, to his highnesse's service, 
 to be a courtier ; but to take this dignitie upon me, is 
 most of all against my will yet such is his highnesse's 
 benignitie, such is his bountie, that he highly esteemeth 
 the small dutiefulnesse of his meanest subjects, and 
 seeketh still magnificently to recompence his servants ; 
 not only such as deserve well, but even such as have but 
 a desire to deserve well at his hands, in which number I 
 have alwaies wished myself to be reckoned, because I 
 cannot challenge myself to be one of the former ; which 
 being so, you may all perceave with me how great a 
 burden is layde upon my backe, in that I must strive in 
 some sorte with my diligence and dutie to corresponde 
 with his royall benevolence, and tp be answerable to that 
 great expectation, which he and you seeme to have of 
 me ; wherefore those so high praises are by me so much 
 more grievous unto me, by how much more I know the 
 greater charge I have to render myself worthie of, and 
 the fewer means I have to make them goode. This
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 69 
 
 weight is hardly suitable to my weake shoulders ; this 
 honour is not correspondent to my poore desert ; it is a 
 burden, not a glorie ; a care, not a dignitie ; the one 
 therefore I must beare as manfully as I can, and dis- 
 charge the other with as much dexteritie as I shall be 
 able. The earnest desire which I have alwaies had and 
 doe now acknowledge myself to have, to satisfye by all 
 meanes I can possible, the most ample benefitts of his 
 highnesse, will greatly excite and ayde me to the diligent 
 performance of all, which I trust also I shall be more 
 able to doe, if ( I finde all your good wills and wishes 
 both favourable unto me, and conformable to his royal 
 munificence : because my serious endeavours to doe well, 
 joyned with your favourable acceptance, will easily pro- 
 cure that whatsoever is performed by me, though it be 
 in itself but small, yet will it seeme great and praise- 
 worthie ; for those things are alwaies atchieved happily, 
 which are accepted willingly ; and those succeede for- 
 tunately, which are receaved by others courteously. As 
 you therefore doe hope for great matters, and the best at 
 my hands, so though I dare not promise anie such, yet 
 do I promise truly and affectionately to performe the best 
 I shall be able.' 
 
 " When sir Thomas More had spoken these wordes, 
 turning his face to the high judgement seate of the 
 Chancerie, he proceeded in this manner : ' But when 
 I looke upon this seate, when I thinke how greate and 
 what kinde of personages have possessed this place 
 before me, when I call to minde who he was that sate 
 in it last of all a man of what singular wisdome, of 
 what notable experience, what a prosperous and favour- 
 able fortune he had for a great space, and how at the 
 last he had a most grievous fall, and dyed inglorious 
 I have cause enough by my predecessor's example to 
 think honour but slipperie, and this dignitie not so 
 grateful to me as it may seeme to others ; for both is it 
 a hard matter to follow with like paces or praises, a man 
 of such admirable witt, prudence, authoritie, and splen- 
 F 3
 
 70 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 dour, to whome I may seeme but as the lighting of a 
 candle, when the sun is downe ; and also the sudden 
 and unexpected fall of so great a man as he was doth 
 terribly putt me in minde that this honour ought not to 
 please me too much, nor the lustre of this glistering 
 seate dazel mine eyes. Wherefore I ascende this seate 
 as a place full of labour and danger, voyde of all solide 
 and true honour ; the which by how much the higher 
 it is, by so much greater fall I am to feare, as well in 
 respect of the verie nature of the thing it selfe, as 
 because I am warned by this late fearfull example. 
 And truly I might even now at this verie just entrance 
 stumble, yea faynte, but that his majestie's most sin- 
 gular favour towardes me, and all your good wills, which 
 your joyfull countenance doth testifye in this most 
 honorable assemblie, doth somewhat recreate and refresh 
 me ; otherwise this seate would be no more pleasing to 
 me, than that sword was to Damocles, which hung over 
 his head, tyed only by a hayre of a horse's tale, when 
 he had store of delicate fare before him, seated in the 
 chair of state of Denis the Tirant of Sicilie ; this there- 
 fore shall be alw r ays fresh in my minde, this will I have 
 still before mine eies, that this seate will be honorable, 
 famous, and full of glorie unto me, if 1 shall with 
 care and diligence, fidelitie and wisedome, endeavour to 
 doe my dutie, and shall persuade myself, that the en- 
 joying thereof may be but short and uncertaine : the 
 one whereof my labour ought to performe ; the other 
 my predecessor's example may easily teach me. All 
 which being so, you may easily perceave what great 
 pleasure I take in this high dignitie, pr in this most 
 noble duke's praising of me.' 
 
 " All the world took notice now of sir Thomas's dig- 
 nitie, whereof Erasmus writeth to John Fabius, bishopp 
 of Vienna, thus : ' Concerning the new increase of 
 honour lately happened to Thomas More, I should 
 easily make you believe it, if I should shew you the 
 letters of many famous men, rejoicing with much 
 alacritie, and congratulating the king, the realme, him-
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 71 
 
 self, and also me, for More's honor, in being made lord 
 chancellour of England.' " 
 
 When sir Thomas More was seated in his court of 
 Chancery, his father, sir John More, who was nearly 
 of the age of ninety, was the most ancient judge of the 
 King's Bench. " What a grateful spectacle was it," 
 says< their descendant, "to see the son ask the blessing 
 of the father every day upon his knees before he sat 
 upon his own seat ? " * Even in a more unceremonious 
 age, the simple character of More would have protected 
 these daily rites of filial reverence from the suspicions 
 of affectation, which could alone destroy their charm. 
 But at that time it must have borrowed its chief power 
 from the conspicuous excellence of the father and son. 
 For if inward worth had then borne any proportion to 
 the grave and reverend ceremonial of the age, we might 
 be well warranted in regarding our forefathers as a race 
 of superior beings. 
 
 The contrast of the humble and affable More with 
 the haughty cardinal, astonished and delighted the suit- 
 ors. No application could be made to Wolsey, which 
 did not pass through many hands ; and no man could 
 apply, whose fingers were not tipped with gold. But 
 More sat daily in an open hall, that he might receive in 
 person the petitions of the poor. If any reader should 
 blame his conduct in this respect, as a breach of an 
 ancient and venerable precept, " Ye shall do no un- 
 righteousness in judgment ; thou shalt not respect the 
 person of the poor, nor honour the person of the mighty ; 
 but in righteousness shalt tlwu judge thy neighbourt:" 
 let it be remembered, that there still clung to the equi- 
 table jurisdiction some remains of that precarious and 
 eleemosynary nature from which it originally sprung ; 
 which, in the eyes of the compassionate chancellor, 
 might warrant more preference for the helpless poor 
 than could be justified in proceedings more rigorously 
 legal. 
 
 * More's Life of Sir T. More, p. 163. f Leviticus, xix. 15. 
 
 F 4
 
 72 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 Courts of law were jealous then, as since, of the 
 power assumed by chancellors to issue injunctions to 
 parties to desist from doing certain acts which they 
 were by law entitled to do, until the court of Chancery 
 should determine whether the exercise of the legal right 
 would not work injustice. There are many instances in 
 which irreparable wrong may be committed, before a 
 right can be ascertained, in the ordinary course of pro- 
 ceedings. In such cases it is the province of the chan- 
 cellor to take care that affairs shall continue in their 
 actual condition until the questions in dispute be de- 
 termined. A considerable outcry against this necessary, 
 though invidious authority, was raised at the com- 
 mencement of More's chancellorship. He silenced this 
 clamour with his wonted prudence and meekness. Hav- 
 ing caused one of the six clerks to make out a list of 
 the injunctions issued by him, or pending before him, 
 he invited all the judges to dinner. He laid the list 
 before them ; and explained the circumstances of each 
 case so satisfactorily, that they all confessed that in the 
 like case they would have done no less. Nay, he offered 
 to desist from the jurisdiction, if they would undertake 
 to contain the law within the boundaries of righteous- 
 ness, which he thought they ought in conscience to do. 
 The judges declined to make the attempt ; on which he 
 observed privately to Roper, that he saw they trusted 
 to their influence for obtaining verdicts which would 
 shift the responsibility from them to the juries. " Where- 
 fore," said he, " I am constrained to abide the adventure 
 of their blame." 
 
 Dauncey, one of his sons-in-law, alleged that under 
 Wolsey " even the door-keepers got great gains," and 
 was so perverted by the venality there practised that 
 he expostulated with More for his churlish integrity. 
 The chancellor said, that if " his father, whom he re- 
 verenced dearly, were on the one side, and the devil, 
 whom he hated with all his might, on the other, the devil 
 should have his right." He is represented by his de- 
 scendant, as softening his answer by promising minor
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 73 
 
 advantages, such as priority of hearing, and recommend- 
 ation of arbitration, where the case of a friend was bad. 
 The biographer, however, not being a lawyer, might 
 have misunderstood the conversation, which had to pass 
 through more than one generation before the tradition 
 reached him ; or the words may have been a hasty 
 effusion of good nature, uttered only to qualify the 
 roughness of his honesty. If he had been called to 
 perform these promises, his head and heart would have 
 recoiled alike from breaches of equality which he would 
 have felt to be altogether dishonest. When Heron, an- 
 other of his sons-in-law, relied on the bad practices of 
 the times, so far as to entreat a favourable judgment in 
 a cause of his own, More, though the most affectionate 
 of fathers, immediately undeceived him by an adverse 
 decree. This act of common justice is made an object 
 of panegyric by the biographer, as if it were then deemed 
 an extraordinary instance of virtue ; a deplorable symp- 
 tom of that corrupt state of general opinion, which, half 
 a century later, contributed to betray into ignominious 
 vices the wisest of men, and the most illustrious of 
 chancellors, if the latter distinction be not rather due to 
 the virtue of a More or a Somers. 
 
 He is said to have despatched the causes before him 
 so speedily, that, on asking for the next, he was told that 
 none remained ; which is boastfully contrasted by Mr. 
 More, his descendant, with the arrear of a thousand in 
 the time of that gentleman, who lived in the reign of 
 Charles I. ; though we have already seen that this 
 difference may be referred to other causes ; and there- 
 fore that the fact, if true, proves no more than his ex- 
 emplary diligence and merited reputation. 
 
 The scrupulous and delicate integrity of More (for so 
 it must be called in speaking of that age) was more 
 clearly shown after his resignation, than it could have 
 been during his continuance in office. One Parnell 
 complained of him for a decree obtained by his adversary 
 Vaughan, whose wife had bribed the chancellor by a gilt
 
 74- BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 cup. He surprised the counsel at first, by owning that 
 he received the cup as a new year's gift. Lord Wilt- 
 shire, a zealous protestant, indecently, but prematurely, 
 exulted. " Did I not tell you, my lords," said he, 
 " that you would find this matter true ?" " But, my 
 lords," replied More, " hear the other part of my tale. 
 After having drank to her of wine with which my butler 
 had filled the cup, and when she had pledged him, he 
 restored it to her, and would listen to no refusal." When 
 Mrs. Croker, for whom he had made a decree against 
 lord Arundel, came to him to request his acceptance 
 of a pair of gloves, in which were contained 40/. 
 in angels, he told her, with a smile, that it were ill 
 manners to refuse a lady's present ; but though he should 
 keep the gloves, he must return the gold, which he en- 
 forced her to receive. Gresham, a suitor, sent him a 
 present of a gilt cup, of which the fashion pleased him. 
 More accepted it; but would not do so till Gresham re- 
 ceived from him another cup of greater value, but of 
 which the form and workmanship were less suitable to 
 the chancellor. It would be an indignity to the memory 
 of such a man to quote these facts as proofs of his pro- 
 bity ; but they may be mentioned as specimens of the 
 simple and unforced honesty of one who rejected im- 
 proper offers with all the ease and pleasantry of common 
 courtesy. 
 
 Henry, in bestowing the great seal on More, hoped to 
 dispose his chancellor to lend his authority to the pro- 
 jects of divorce and second marriage, which now agitated 
 the king's mind, and were the main objects of his 
 policy.* Arthur, the eldest son of Henry VII., had 
 married Catharine, the daughter of Ferdinand and 
 Isabella, sovereigns of Castile and Aragon. As the 
 young prince died very shortly after his nuptials, Henry 
 obtained a dispensation from pope Julius II. to enable 
 the princess to marry her brother-in-law, afterwards 
 
 * " Thomas Morns, doctrina et probitate spcctabilis vir, cancellarius in 
 Wolsaei locum constituitur. Neutiqiiam Regis causes tequior." Thuani 
 Hist, sui Temporis, lib. ii. c. 16. edit. Lond. 1733. i. 31.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 75 
 
 Henry VIII. That monarch solemnised his marriage 
 with her after his accession, and lived sixteen years in 
 apparent harmony with her. Mary was the only child 
 of this marriage who survived infancy ; but in the year 
 1527 a concurrence of events arose, which tried and 
 established the virtue of More, and revealed to the world 
 the depravity of his master. Henry was touched by the 
 charms of Anne Boleyn, a beautiful young lady, in her 
 twenty-second year, the daughter of sir Thomas Boleyn, 
 earl of Wiltshire, who had lately returned from the court 
 of France, where her youth had been spent. At the 
 same moment it became the policy of Francis I. to loosen 
 all the ties which joined the king of England to the 
 emperor. When the bishop of Tarbes, his ambassador 
 in England, found, on his arrival in London, the growing 
 distaste of Henry for his inoffensive and exemplary wife, 
 he promoted the king's inclination towards divorce, and 
 suggested a marriage with Margaret duchess of Alencon, 
 the beautiful and graceful sister of Francis I.* 
 
 At this period Henry for the first time professed to 
 harbour conscientious doubts whether the dispensation 
 of Julius II. could suspend the obligation of the divine 
 prohibition pronounced against such a marriage in the 
 Levitical law.t The court of Rome did not dare to 
 contend that the dispensation could reach the case if the 
 prohibition were part of the universal law of God. 
 Henry, on the other side, could not consistently question 
 its validity, if he considered the precept as belonging to 
 merely positive law. To this question, therefore, the 
 dispute was confined, though both parties shrunk from 
 
 * " Margarita Francisci soror, spectatae forma et venustatis foemina, 
 Carolo Alenconio duce marito paulo ante mortuo, vidua permanscrat. Ea 
 destinata uxor Henrico : missique Wolsasus et Bigerronum Praesul qui 
 de dissolvendo matrimonio cum Gallo agerent. Ut caletum appulit Wolszeus 
 mandatum a rege contrarium accipit, rescivitque per amicos Henricum 
 non tarn Galli adfinitatem quam insanum amorem quo Annam Bolenam 
 prosequebatur, explere velle." Thunn. ubi suprd. 
 
 No trace of the latter part appears in the state papers just published. 
 
 f Leviticus, xv. 3. xx. 22. But see Deuteronomy, xxv. 5. The latter 
 text, which allows an exception in the case of a brother's wife being left 
 childless, may be thought to strengthen the prohibition in all cases not 
 excepted. It may seem applicable to the precise case of Henry. But the 
 application of that text is impossible ; for it contains an injunction, of 
 which the breach is chastised by a disgraceful punishment.
 
 ? BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 an explicit and precise avowal of their main ground. 
 The most reasonable solution that it was a local and 
 temporary law, forming a part of the Hebrew code, 
 might seem at first sight to destroy its authority alto- 
 gether. But if either party had been candid, this pro- 
 hibition, adopted by all Christendom, might be j ustifi ed by 
 that general usage, in a case where it was not remarkably 
 at variance with reason or the public welfare. But such 
 a doctrine would have lowered the ground of this papal 
 authority too much to be acceptable to Rome, and yet, 
 on the other hand, rested it on too unexceptionable a 
 foundation to suit the case of Henry. False allega- 
 tions of facts in the preamble of the bull were alleged 
 on the same side ; but they were inconclusive. The 
 principal arguments in the king's favour were, that no 
 precedents of such a dispensation seem to have been 
 produced; and that if the Levitical prohibitions do not 
 continue in force under the Gospel, there is no pro- 
 hibition against incestuous marriages in the system of 
 the New Testament. It was a disadvantage to the 
 church of Rome in controversy, that being driven from 
 the low ground by its supposed tendency to degrade the 
 subject, and deterred from the high ground by the fear 
 of the reproach of daring usurpation, the inevitable 
 consequence was confusion and fluctuation respecting 
 the first principles on which the question was to be 
 determined. 
 
 To pursue this subject through the long negotiations 
 and discussions which it occasioned during six years, 
 would be to lead us far from the life of sir Thomas 
 More, even if the writer of these pages had not very 
 recently attempted a summary account of them.* Suffice 
 it here to say, that Clement VII. (Medici), though 
 originally inclined to favour the suitt of Henry, accord- 
 ing to the usual policy of the Roman court, which 
 sought plausible pretexts for facilitating the divorce of 
 kings, whose matrimonial connections might be repre- 
 
 * History of England, ii. 
 
 f Pallavicino, lib. ii. c. 15. edit, de ililan, 17*5, v. i. p. 251.
 
 SIR THOMAS MOKE. 77 
 
 sen ted as involving the quiet of nations ; an allegation 
 which was often enough true to be always specious. 
 The sack of Rome and the captivity of the pontiff left 
 Clement full of fear of the emperor's power and dis- 
 pleasure ; it is even said that Charles V., who had 
 discovered the secret designs of the English court, had 
 extorted from the pope, before his release, a promise 
 that no attempt would be made to dishonour an Austrian 
 princess by acceding to the divorce.* The pope, un- 
 willing to provoke Henry, his powerful and generous 
 protector, instructed Campeggio to attempt, first, a recon- 
 ciliation between the king and queen; secondly, if that 
 failed, to endeavour to persuade her that she ought to 
 acquiesce in her husband's desires, by entering into a 
 cloister ; a proposition which seems to show a readiness 
 in the Roman court to wave their theological difficulties; 
 and, thirdly, if neither of these attempts were successful, 
 to spin out the negotiation to the greatest length, in 
 order to profit by the favourable incidents which time 
 might bring forth. The impatience of the king and the 
 honest indignation of the queen defeated these arts of 
 Italian policy. The resistance of Anne Boleyn to the 
 irregular gratification of the king's desires, without the 
 belief of which it is impossible to conceive the motives 
 for his perseverance in the pursuit of an unequal mar- 
 riage, opposed another impediment to the counsels and 
 contrivances of Clement, which must have surprised and 
 perplexed a Florentine pontiff. All these proceedings 
 terminated in the sentence of nullity in the case of 
 Henry's marriage with Catherine, pronounced by Cran- 
 mer, the espousal of Anne Boleyn by the king, and the 
 rejection of the papal jurisdiction by the kingdom, 
 which still, however, adhered to the doctrines of the 
 Roman catholic church. 
 
 The situation of More during a great part of these 
 
 memorable events was embarrassing. The great offices 
 
 to which he was raised by the king, the personal favour 
 
 hitherto constantly shown to him, and the natural *en- 
 
 * Id. ibid, from MS. Correspondence.
 
 78 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 dency of his gentle and quiet disposition, combined to 
 disincline him to resistance against the wishes of his 
 friendly master. On the other hand, his growing dread 
 and horror of heresy, with its train of disorders ; his 
 belief that universal anarchy would be the inevitable 
 result of religious dissension, and the operation of seven 
 years' controversy for the Catholic church, in heating his 
 mind on all subjects involving the extent of her autho- 
 rity, made him recoil from designs which were visibly 
 tending towards disunion with the Roman pontiff, the 
 centre of Catholic union, and the supreme magistrate of 
 the ecclesiastical commonwealth. Though his opinions 
 relating to the papal authority were of a moderate and 
 liberal nature, he at least respected it as an ancient and 
 venerable control on licentious opinions, of which the 
 prevailing heresies attested the value and the necessity. 
 
 Though he might have been better pleased with 
 another determination by the supreme pontiff, it did 
 not follow that he should contribute to weaken the holy 
 see, assailed as it was on every side, by taking an active 
 part in resistance to the final decision of a lawful autho- 
 rity. Obedience to the supreme head of the church in 
 a case which ultimately related only to discipline, ap- 
 peared peculiarly incumbent on all professed catholics. 
 But however sincere the zeal of More for the catholic 
 religion and his support of the legitimate supremacy of 
 the Roman see undoubtedly were, he was surely in- 
 fluenced at the same time by the humane feelings of his 
 just and generous nature, which engaged his heart to 
 espouse the cause of a blameless and wronged princess, 
 driven from the throne and the bed of a tyrannical 
 husband. Though he reasoned the case as a divine 
 and a canonist, he must have felt it as a man. That 
 honest feeling must have glowed beneath the subtle- 
 ties and formalities of doubtful and sometimes frivo- 
 lous disputations. It was probably often the chief cause 
 of conduct for which other reasons might be sincerely 
 alleged. 
 
 In steering his course through the intrigues and pas-
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. /9 
 
 sions of the court, it is very observable that More most 
 warily retired from every opposition but that which 
 conscience absolutely required : he shunned unnecessary 
 disobedience as much as unconscientious compliance. 
 If he had been influenced solely by prudential consider- 
 ations, he could not have more cautiously shunned every 
 needless opposition ; but in that case he would not have 
 gone so far. He displayed, at the time of which we now 
 speak, that very peculiar excellence of his character, 
 which, as it showed his submission to be the fruit of 
 sense of duty, gave dignity to that which in others is apt 
 to seem and to be slavish. 
 
 The anxieties of More increased with the approach 
 towards the execution of the king's projects of divorce 
 and second marriage. Some anecdotes of this period 
 are preserved by the affectionate and descriptive pen 
 of Margaret Roper's husband, which, as he evidently 
 reports in the chancellor's language, it would be unpar- 
 donable to relate in any other words than those of the 
 venerable man himself. Roper, indeed, like another 
 Plutarch, consults the unrestrained freedom of his story 
 by a disregard of dates, which, however agreeable 
 to a general reader, is sometimes unsatisfactory to a 
 searcher after accuracy. Yet his office in a court of law, 
 where there is the strongest inducement to ascertain 
 truth, and the largest experience of the means most 
 effectual for that purpose, might have taught him the 
 extreme importance of time as well as place in estimating 
 the bearing and weight of testimony. 
 
 " On a time walking with me along the Thames' 
 side at Chelsea, he said unto me, ' Now would to our 
 Lord, son Roper, upon condition that three things were 
 well established in Christendom, I were put into a sack, 
 and were presently cast into the Thames.' ' What 
 great things be those, sir?' quoth I, ' that should move 
 you so to wish.' ' In faith, son, they be these,' said he. 
 ' The first is, that whereas the most part of Christian 
 princes be at mortal war, they were all at universal 
 peace. The second, that where the church of Christ is
 
 80 BRITISH STATESMEN'. 
 
 at present sore afflicted with many errors and heresies, 
 it were well settled in perfect uniformity of religion. 
 The third, that as the matter of the king's marriage is 
 now come in question, it were, to the glory of God and 
 quietness of all parties, brought to a good conclu- 
 sion.' " * 
 
 On another occasion f, " before the matrimony was 
 brought in question, when I, in talk with sir Thomas 
 More (of a certain joy), commended unto him the happy 
 estate of this realm, that had so catholic a prince, so 
 grave and sound a nobility, and so loving, obedient sub- 
 jects, agreeing in one faith. 
 
 ' Truth it is, indeed, son Roper ; and yet I pray 
 God, as high as we sit upon the mountains, treading 
 heretics under our feet like ants, live not the day that we 
 gladly would wish to be at league and composition with 
 them, to let them have their churches, so that they 
 would be contented to let us have ours quietly.' I 
 answered, ' By my troth, it is very desperately spoken.' 
 He, perceiving me to be in a fume, said merrily, 
 ' Well, well, son Roper, it shall not be so.' Whom," 
 concludes Roper, " in sixteen years and more, being in 
 his house, conversant with him, I never could perceive 
 him as much as once in a fume." 
 
 Doubtless he was somewhat disquieted by the re- 
 flection, that some of those who now appealed to the 
 freedom of his youthful philosophy against himself 
 would speedily begin to abuse such doctrines by turning 
 them against the peace which he loved, that some of 
 the spoilers of Rome might exhibit the like scenes of 
 rapine and blood in the city which was his birth-place 
 and his dwelling-place. Yet, even then, the placid mien, 
 which had stood the test of every petty annoyance for 
 sixteen years, was unruffled by alarms for the impending 
 fate of his country and of his religion. 
 
 Henry used every means of procuring an opinion 
 
 * The description of the period appears to suit the year 1529, before the 
 peace of Cambray and the recall of the legate Campeggio. 
 
 t Probably in the beginning of 1527, after the promotion of More to be 
 chancellor of the duchy of Lancaster.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 81 
 
 favourable to his wishes from his chancellor, who ex- 
 cused himself as unmeet for such matters, having never 
 professed the study of divinity. But the king " sorely " 
 pressed him *, and never ceased urging him until he 
 had promised to give his consent, at least, to examine 
 the question, conjunctly with his friend Tunstall and 
 other learned divines. After the examination, More, 
 with his wonted ingenuity and gentleness, conveyed the 
 result to his master. " To be plain with your grace, 
 neither your bishops, wise and virtuous though they be, 
 nor myself, nor any other of your council, by reason of 
 your manifold benefits bestowed on us, are meet coun- 
 sellors for your grace herein. If you mind to under- 
 stand the truth, consult St. Jerome, St. Augustin, and 
 other holy doctors of the Greek and Latin churches, 
 who will not be inclined to deceive you by respect of 
 their own worldly commodity, or by fear of your 
 princely displeasure." t Though the king did not like 
 what " was disagreeable to his desires, yet the language 
 of More was so wisely tempered, that for the present he 
 took it in good part, and oftentimes had conferences 
 with the chancellor thereon." The native meekness of 
 More was probably more effectual than all the arts by 
 which courtiers ingratiate themselves, or insinuate un- 
 palatable counsel. 
 
 Shortly after, the king again moved him to weigh 
 and consider the great matter. The chancellor fell 
 down on his knees, and reminding Henry of his own 
 words on delivering the great seal, which were, 
 " First look upon God, and after God upon me," added, 
 that nothing had ever so pained him as that he was not 
 able to serve his grace in that matter, without a breach 
 of that original injunction which he had received on the 
 acceptance of his office. The king said he was content 
 to accept his service otherwise, and would continue his 
 favour ; never with that matter molesting his conscience 
 afterwards. J But when the progress towards the 
 marriage was so far advanced that he saw how soon 
 
 * Roper, p. 32. f Id. 48 , t Id. 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 82 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 the active co-operation of a chancellor must be required, 
 he made suit to " his singular dear friend/' the duke of 
 Norfolk, to procure his discharge from this office. The 
 duke, often solicited by More, then obtained, by im- 
 portunate suit, a clear discharge for the chancellor. 
 When he repaired to the king, to resign the great seal 
 into his majesty's hands, Henry received him with 
 thanks and praise for his worthy service, and assured 
 him, that in any suit that should either concern his 
 honour or appertain unto his profit, the king would 
 show himself a good and gracious master to his faithful 
 servant. The king directed Norfolk, when he installed 
 his successor, to declare publicly, that his majesty had 
 with pain yielded to the prayers of sir Thomas 'More, 
 by the removal of such a magistrate. * 
 
 At the time of his resignation he asserted, and cir- 
 cumstances, without reference to his character, demon- 
 strate the truth of his assertion, that his whole income, 
 independent of grants from the crown, did not amount 
 to more than 50/. yearly. This was not more than an 
 eighth part of his gains at the bar and his judicial 
 salary from the city of London taken together, so great 
 was the proportion in which his fortune had declined 
 during eighteen years of employment in offices of such 
 trust, advantage, and honour, t In this situation the 
 clergy voted, as a testimonial of their gratitude to him, 
 the sum of 5000/. pounds, which was a hundred times 
 the amount of his income ; and, according to the rate 
 of interest at that time, would have yielded him 500/. 
 a year, being ten times the yearly sum which he could 
 then call his own. But good and honourable as he 
 knew their messengers to be, of whom Tunstall was 
 one, he declared that he would rather cast their money 
 into the sea than take it : not speaking from a boastful 
 pride, most foreign from his nature, but shrinking with 
 a sort of instinctive delicacy from the touch of money, 
 
 * " Honorifice jussit rex de me testatum reddere quod tegre ad preces 
 mc-as me demiserit." Mori Ep. ad Eratm. 
 .. f Apology, c. x. English Works, p. 867.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 83 
 
 even before he considered how much the acceptance of 
 the gift might impair his usefulness. 
 
 His resources were of a nobler nature. The simpli- 
 city of his tastes and the moderation of his indulgences 
 rendered retrenchment a task so easy to himself, as to 
 be scarcely perceptible in his personal habits. His fool 
 or jester, then a necessary part of a great man's esta- 
 blishment, he gave to the lord mayor for the time being. 
 His first care was to provide for his attendants, by 
 placing his gentlemen and yeomen with peers and pre- 
 lates, and his eight watermen in the service of his suc- 
 cessor sir T. Audley, to whom he gave his great barge, 
 one of the most indispensable appendages of his office 
 in an age when carriages were unknown. His sorrows 
 were for separation from those whom he loved. He 
 called together his children and grandchildren, who had 
 hitherto lived in peace and love under his patriarchal 
 roof, and, lamenting that he could not as he was wont, 
 and as he gladly would, bear out the whole charges of 
 them all himself, continue living together as they were 
 wont, he prayed them to give him their counsel on 
 this trying occasion. When he saw them silent, and 
 unwilling to risk an opinion, he gave them his, sea- 
 soned with his natural gaiety, and containing some 
 strokes illustrative of the state of society at that time. 
 " I have been brought up," quoth he, " at Oxford, at 
 an inn of Chancery, at Lincoln's Inn, and also in the 
 king's court, from the lowest degree to the highest, and 
 yet 1 have at present left me little above 1001. a year" 
 (including the king's grants) ; " so that now if we like 
 to live together we must be content to be con tributaries 
 together ; but we must not fall to the lowest fare first : 
 we will begin with Lincoln's Inn diet, where many 
 right worshipful and of good years do live full well ; 
 which, if we find not ourselves the first year able to 
 maintain, then will we the next year go one step to 
 New Inn fare : if that year exceed our ability, we 
 will the next year descend to Oxford fare, where many 
 grave, learned, and ancient fathers are continually con- 
 G 2
 
 4 BRITISH STATKSMEX. 
 
 versant. If our ability stretch not to maintain either, 
 then may we yet with bags and wallets go a begging 
 together, and hoping for charity at every man's door, to 
 sing Salve regina ; and so still keep company and be 
 merry together." * 
 
 On the Sunday following his resignation, he stood at 
 the door of his wife's pew in the church, where one of 
 his dismissed gentlemen had been used to stand, and 
 making a low obeisance to Alice as she entered, said to 
 her with perfect gravity, " Madam, my lord is gone." 
 He who for seventeen years had not raised his voice in 
 displeasure, would not be expected to sacrifice the gratifi- 
 cation of his innocent merriment to the heaviest blows 
 of fortune. Nor did he at fit times fail to prepare his 
 beloved children for those more cruel strokes which he 
 began to foresee. Discoursing with them, he enlarged 
 on the happiness of suffering, for the love of God, the loss 
 of goods, of liberty, of lands, of life. He would further 
 say unto them, that if he might perceive his wife and 
 children would encourage him to die in a good cause, 
 it should so comfort him, that for very joy it would make 
 him run merrily to death. 
 
 It must be owned that Henry felt the weight of this 
 great man's opinion, and tried every possible means to 
 obtain at least the appearance of his spontaneous appro- 
 bation. After the marriage with queen Anne, the king 
 commanded Tunstall and other prelates to desire his 
 attendance at the coronation at Westminster. They 
 wrote a letter to persuade him to comply, and accom- 
 panied it with the needful present of 20/. to buy a court 
 dress. Such overtures he had foreseen ; for he said some 
 time before to Roper, when he first heard of that mar- 
 riage, " God grant, son Roper, that these matters within 
 a while be not confirmed with oaths ! " He accordingly 
 answered his friends the bishops well : " Take heed, 
 my lords : by procuring your lordships to be present at 
 the coronation, they will next ask you to preach for the 
 
 * Roper, pp. 51, 52.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 85 
 
 setting forth thereof; and finally to write books to all the 
 world in defence thereof." 
 
 This warning letter was not likely to be acceptable 
 to Henry. An opportunity presented itself for trying 
 another, in which it is very probable that he, in the first 
 instance, limited his plan to menace, which he thought 
 would be sufficient to subdue the obstinacy of More, 
 whom a man of violent nature might believe to be fearful, 
 because he was peaceful. Elizabeth Barton, called the holy 
 maid of Kent, who had been, for a considertable number 
 of years, afflicted by convulsive maladies, felt her morbid 
 susceptibility so excited by Henry's profane defiance of 
 the catholic church, and his cruel desertion of Catharine, 
 his- faithful wife, that her pious and humane feelings 
 led her to represent, and probably to believe herself 
 to be visited by a divine revelation of those punish- 
 ments which the king was about to draw down on him- 
 self and on the kingdom. In the universal opinion of 
 the sixteenth century, such interpositions were con- 
 sidered as still occurring. The neighbours and visiters 
 of the unfortunate young woman believed her ravings 
 to be prophecies, and the contortions of her body to be 
 those of a frame heaving and struggling under the awful 
 agitations of divine inspiration, and confirmed that con- 
 viction of a mission from God, for which she was pre- 
 disposed by her own pious benevolence, combined with 
 the general error of the age. Both Fisher and More 
 appear not to have altogether disbelieved her pretensions. 
 More expressly declared, that he durst not and would 
 not be bold in judging her miracles.* In the beginning 
 of her prophecies, he had been commanded by the king 
 to enquire into her case ; and he made a report to Henry, 
 who agreed with More in considering the whole of her 
 miraculous pretensions as frivolous, and deserving no 
 farther regard. But in 1532, several monks t so mag- 
 nified her performances to him that he was prevailed on 
 
 * More's letter to Cromwell, probably written in the end of 132. 
 f Of whom some were afterwards executed. 
 
 G 3
 
 86 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 to see her ; but refused to hear her speak about the king, 
 saying to her, in general terms, that he had no desire to 
 pry into the concerns of others. Pursuant, as it is said, 
 to a sentence by or in the Star Chamber, she stood in 
 the pillory at Paul's Cross, acknowledging herself to be 
 guilty of the imposture of claiming inspiration, and say- 
 ing that she was tempted to this fraud by the instigation 
 of the devil. Considering the circumstances of the case, 
 and the character of the parties, it is far more probable 
 that the ministers should have obtained a false con- 
 fession from her hopes of saving her life, than that a 
 simple woman should have contrived and carried on, for 
 many years, a system of complicated and elaborate im- 
 posture. It would not be inconsistent with this ac- 
 quittal, to allow that, in the course of her self-delusion, 
 she should have been induced, by some ecclesiastics of 
 the tottering church, to take an active part in these pious 
 frauds, which there is too much reason to believe that 
 persons of unfeigned religion have been often so far 
 misguided by enthusiastic zeal, as to perpetrate or to 
 patronise. 
 
 But whatever were the motives or the extent of the 
 holy maid's confession, it availed her nothing ; for in the 
 session of parliament which met in January, ] 534, she 
 and her ecclesiastical prompters were attainted of high 
 treason, and adjudged to suffer death as traitors : Fisher 
 bishop of Rochester, with others, were all attainted of 
 misprision or concealment of treason, for which they 
 were adjudged to forfeiture and imprisonment during 
 the king's pleasure.* The holy maid, with her spiritual 
 guides, suffered death at Tyburn on the 21st of April ; 
 she confirming her former confession, but laying her 
 crime to the charge of her companions, if we may 
 implicitly believe historians of the victorious party.t 
 
 Fisher and his supposed accomplices in misprision 
 remained in prison according to their attainder. Of 
 More the statute makes no mention ; but it contains a 
 
 * 25 H. 8. c. 12. Stat. of the Realm, iii. p. 44a 
 f Such as Hall and Holinshed.
 
 SIB THOMAS MORE. 87 
 
 provision, which, when it is combined with other cir- 
 cumstances to be presently related, appear to have been 
 added to the bill for the purpose of providing for his 
 safety. By this provision, the king's majesty, at the 
 humble suit of his well beloved wife queen Anne, 
 pardons all persons not expressly by name attainted by 
 the statute, for all misprision and concealments relating 
 to the false and feigned miracles and prophecies of 
 Elizabeth Barton, on or before the 20th day of October, 
 1533. Now we are told by Roper *, " that sir Thomas 
 More's name was originally inserted in the bill," the 
 king supposing that this bill would to sir Thomas More 
 be so troublous and terrible, that it would force him to 
 relent and condescend to his request; wherein his grace 
 was much deceived. Sir Thomas was personally to be 
 received in his own defence to make answer. But the 
 king, not liking that, sent the archbishop of Canterbury, 
 the chancellor, the duke of Norfolk, and Cromwell, to 
 attempt the conversion of More. Audley reminded 
 More of the king's special favour and many benefits. 
 More admitted them; but modestly added, that his 
 highness had most graciously declared that on this 
 matter More should be molested no more. When in the 
 end they saw that no persuasion could move him, they 
 then said, " that the king's highness had given them in 
 commandment, if they could by no gentleness win him, 
 in the king's name with ingratitude to charge him, that 
 never was servant to his master so villainous t, nor 
 subject to his prince so traitorous as he." They even 
 reproached him for having either written in the name of 
 his master, or betrayed his sovereign into writing, the 
 book against Luther, which had so deeply pledged 
 Henry to the support of papal pretensions. To these 
 upbraidings he calmly answered, " The terrors are argu- 
 
 * P. 62. 
 
 f Like a slave or a villain. The word in the mouth of these gentlemen 
 appears to have been in a state of transition, about the middle point between 
 the original sense of " like a slave," and its modern acceptation of mean 
 or malignant offenders. What proof is not supplied by this single fact in 
 the history of the language of the masters, of their conviction, that the 
 slavery maintained by them doomed the slaves to depravity. 
 
 G 4
 
 88 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 ments for children, and not for me. As to the fact, the 
 king knoweth, that after the book was finished by his 
 highness's appointment, or the consent of the maker, I 
 was only a sorter out and placer of the principal matters 
 therein contained." He added, that he warned the king 
 of the prudence of " touching the pope's authority more 
 slenderly, and that he had reminded Henry of the 
 statutes of premunire," whereby " a good part of the 
 pope's pastoral care was pared away ; " to which the 
 impetuous monarch answered, " We are so much bounden 
 unto the see of Rome, that we cannot do too much 
 honour unto it." On More's return to Chelsea from his 
 interview with these lords, Roper said to him " I hope 
 all is well, since you are so merry?" " It is so, indeed," 
 said More, " I thank God." " Are you, then, out of the 
 parliament bill ? " said Roper. " By my troth, In ever re- 
 membered it ; but," said More, " I will tell thee why I 
 was so merry; because I had given the devil a foul fall, 
 and that with those lords I had gone so far, as without 
 great shame I never go back again." A frank avowal of 
 the power of temptation, and a simple joy at having at 
 the hazard of life escaped from the farther seductions 
 of the court, bestowing a greatness on these few and 
 familiar words which scarcely belongs to any other of 
 the sayings of man. 
 
 Henry, incensed at the failure of wheedling and 
 threatening messages, broke out into violent declarations 
 of his resolution to include More in the attainder, and 
 said that he should be personally present to ensure the 
 passing of the bill. Lord Audley and his colleagues on 
 their knees besought their master to forbear, lest by an 
 overthrow in his own presence, he might be contemned by 
 his own subjects, and dishonoured throughout Christen- 
 dom for ever ; adding, that they doubted not that they 
 should find a more meet occasion ' ' to serve his turn ; " 
 for that in this case of the nun he was so clearly in- 
 nocent, that men deemed him far worthier of praise 
 than of reproof. Henry was compelled to yield.* Such 
 * The house of lrds addressed the king, praying him to declare whether"
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 89 
 
 was the power of defenceless virtue over the slender re- 
 mains of independence among slavish peers, and over 
 the lingering remnants of common humanity which 
 might still be mingled with a cooler policy in the bosoms 
 of subservient politicians. One of the worst of that 
 race, Thomas Cromwell, on meeting Roper in the par- 
 liament house next day after the king assented to the 
 prayer of his ministers, told him to tell More that he 
 was put out of the bill. Roper sent a messenger to Mar- 
 garet Roper, who hastened to her beloved father with 
 the tidings. More answered her, with his usual gaiety 
 and fondness, " In faith, Megg, what is put off is not 
 given up."* Soon after, the duke of Norfolk said to 
 him, "By the mass! master More, it is perilous striving 
 with princes; the anger of a prince brings death." 
 " Is that all, my lord ? then the difference between you 
 and me is but this that I shall die to-day, and you to- 
 morrow." No life in Plutarch is more full of happy 
 sayings and striking retorts than that of More. But 
 the terseness and liveliness of his are justly overlooked 
 in the contemplation of that union of perfect simplicity 
 with moral grandeur, which, perhaps, no other human 
 being has so uniformly reached. 
 
 By a tyrannical edict, miscalled a law, in the same 
 session of 1533-4, it was made high treason, after the 
 1st of May, 1534, by writing, print, deed, or act, to do 
 or to procure, or cause to be done or procured, any thing 
 to the prejudice, slander, disturbance, or derogation of the 
 king's lawful matrimony with queen Anne. If the 
 same offences were committed by words, they were only 
 misprision. The same act enjoined all persons to take 
 an oath to maintain the whole contents of the statute, 
 and an obstinate refusal to make such oath was sub- 
 
 it would be agreeable to his pleasure that sir T. More and others should 
 not be heard in their own defence before " the lords in the royal senate 
 called the Stffc Chamber." Nothing more appears on the journals relating 
 to this matter. Lords' Journ. fith March, 1533. The journals prove the nar- 
 rative of Roper, from which the text is composed, to be as accurate as it is 
 beautiful 
 
 * He spoke to her in his conversational Latin, ' Quod dffferfurnon 
 aufertuf.' 1
 
 90 BRITISH STATESMEX. 
 
 jected to the penalties of misprision. This statute pre- 
 scribed no form for the oath. On the 30th of March*, 
 however, which was the day of closing the session, the 
 chancellor Audley, when the commons were at the bar, 
 but when they could neither deliberate nor assent, read 
 the king's letters patent, containing the form of an oath, 
 and appointing the archbishop of Canterbury, the chan- 
 cellor, the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, to be commis- 
 sioners for administering it. 
 
 Sir T. More was summoned to appear before these 
 commissioners at Lambeth, on Monday the 13th of 
 April, 1534. " On other occasions he evermore used, 
 at his departure from his wife and children, whom he 
 tenderly loved, to have them brought to his boat, and 
 there to kiss them, and bid them all farewell. At that 
 time he would suffer none of them to follow him forth 
 of the gate, but pulled the wicket after him, and shut 
 them all from him, and with Roper and four servants 
 took boat towards Lambeth. He sat for a while ; but at 
 last, his mind being lightened and relieved by those 
 high principles to which with him every low consider- 
 ation yielded, whispered " Son Roper ! I thank our 
 Lord, the field is won." "As I conjectured," says 
 Roper, " it was for that his love to God conquered his 
 carnal affections." An account of his conduct during 
 the examination at Lambeth was sent by him to his 
 darling child, Margaret Roper, t After having read 
 the statute and the form of the oath, he declared his 
 readiness to swear that he would maintain and defend 
 the order of succession to the crown as established by 
 parliament. He disclaimed all censure of those who had 
 imposed, or on those who had taken, the oath, but declared 
 it to be impossible that he should swear to the whole 
 contents of it, without offending against his own con- 
 science ; adding, that if they doubted whether his refusal 
 proceeded from pure scruple of conscience or from his 
 own phantasies, he was willing to satisfy their doubts by 
 
 * Lords' Journ. p. 82. 
 
 t English Works, U28 1430.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 91 
 
 oath. The commissioners urged that he was the first 
 who refused it : they showed him the subscriptions of 
 all the lords and commons who had sworn ; they held 
 out the king's sure displeasure at the single recusant. 
 When he was called on a second time, they charged him 
 with obstinacy for not mentioning any special part of 
 the oath which wounded his conscience. 
 
 He answered, that if he were to open his reasons for 
 refusal farther, he should exasperate the king still more. 
 He offered, however, to assign his reasons if the lords 
 would procure his highness's gracious assurance that 
 the avowal of the grounds of his defence should not be 
 considered as offensive to the king, nor prove dangerous 
 to himself. The commissioners answered that such 
 assurances would be no defence against a legal charge. 
 He offered, however, to trust himself to the king's honour. 
 Cranmer took some advantage of More's candour, urging 
 that, as he had disclaimed all blame of those who had 
 sworn, it was evident that he thought it only doubtful 
 whether the oath was unlawful ; and desired him to con- 
 sider whether the obligation to obey the king was not 
 absolutely certain. He was struck with the subtilty of this 
 reasoning, which took him by surprise, but not convinced 
 of its solidity. Notwithstanding his surprise, he seems 
 to have almost touched the true answer, that as the oath 
 contained a profession of opinion, such, for example, as 
 the lawfulness of the king's marriage, on which men 
 might differ, it might be declined by some and taken by 
 others with equal honesty. Cromwell, whom More be- 
 lieved to favour him, loudly swore that he would rather 
 see his only son had lost his head than that More had 
 thus refused the oath. Cromwell bore the answer to 
 the king, and chancellor Audley distinctly enjoined him 
 to state very clearly More's willingness to swear to the 
 succession. " Surely," said More, " as to swearing to 
 the succession, I see no peril." Cromwell was not a 
 good man, but the gentle virtue of More subdued even 
 the bad. He never more returned to his house, being 
 committed to the custody of the abbot of Westminster,
 
 92 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 in which he continued four days ; and at the end of that 
 time he was conveyed to the Tower* on Friday the 17th 
 of April, 1534. 
 
 Before the end of the session, 1534, two statutes t 
 were passed to attaint More and Fisher of misprision 
 of treason, specifying the punishment to be imprison- 
 ment of body and loss of goods. By that which 
 relates to More, the king's grants of land to him in 
 1523 and 1525 are resumed; it is alleged that he re- 
 fused the oath since the 1st of May of 1534, with an 
 intent to sow sedition; and he is reproached for having 
 demeaned himself in other respects ungratefully and 
 unkindly to the king, his benefactor. 
 
 In the session which began on the 3d of November, 
 1534, an act was passed which ratifies and professes to 
 recite the form of oath promulgated on the day of the 
 prorogation ; and enacts that the oath above recited shall 
 be reputed to be the very oath intended by the former 
 act of succession , though there were, in fact, some sub- 
 stantial and important interpolations in the latter act ; 
 such as the words " most dear and entirely beloved, 
 lawful wife, queen Anne," which tended to render that 
 form still less acceptable than before, to the scrupulous 
 consciences of More and Fisher. 
 
 That this statement of the legislative measures which 
 affected them is necessary to a consideration of the le- 
 gality of More's trial, which must be owned to be a part 
 of its justice, will appear in its proper place. In the 
 mean time, the few preparatory incidents which occurred 
 during thirteen months' imprisonment, must be briefly 
 related. His wife Alice, though an excellent housewife, 
 
 * Roper tells us that the king, who had intended to desist from his im- 
 portunities, was exasperated by queen Anne's clamour to tender the oath 
 at Lambeth. But he detested that unhappy lady, whose marriage was the 
 the occasion of More's ruin ; and though Roper was an unimpeachable wit- 
 ness relating to sir Thomas's conversation, he is of less weight as to what 
 passed in the interior of the palace. The ministers might have told such a 
 story to excuse themselves to Roper. Anne could have had no opportu- 
 nity of contradiction. 
 
 t 26 H. VIII. c. 22, S3. 
 
 t Id. c. 2. 
 
 25 H. VIIL c. 22. $ 9. Compare 1 Lords' Journ. 82.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 93 
 
 yet in her visits to the Tower handled his misfortunes 
 and his scruples too roughly. " Like an ignorant, and 
 somewhat worldly, woman, she bluntly said to him, 
 ' How can a man taken for wise, like you, play the fool 
 in this close filthy prison, when you might be abroad at 
 your liberty, if you would but do as the bishops have 
 done ? ' " She enlarged on his fair house at Chelsea, " his 
 library, gallery, garden, and orchard, together with the 
 company of his wife and children." He bore with 
 kindness in its most unpleasing form, and answered 
 her cheerfully after his manner, which was to blend 
 religious feelings with quaintness and liveliness. " Is 
 not this house as nigh heaven as mine own ? " She 
 answered him in a homely exclamation of contempt *, of 
 which the origin or meaning cannot now be ascertained, 
 " Tilly valle, titty valle."^ He treated her harsh 
 language as a wholesome exercise for his patience, and 
 replied with equal mildness, though with more gravity, 
 " Why should I joy in my gay house, when if I should 
 rise from the grave in seven years, I should not fail to 
 find some one there who would bid me to go out of doors, 
 for it was none of mine ? " It was not thus that his Mar- 
 garet Roper conversed or corresponded with him during 
 his confinement. A short note written to her a little while 
 after his commitment, with a coal (his only pen and ink) 
 begins, " Mine own good daughter," and is closed in the 
 following fond and pious words : " Written with a coal, 
 by your tender loving father, who in his poor prayers 
 forgetteth none of you, nor your babes, nor your good 
 husbands, nor your father's shrewd wife neither." Shortly 
 after, mistaking the sense of a letter from her, which he 
 thought advised him to compliance, he wrote a letter to 
 her which rebukes her supposed purpose with the utmost 
 vehemence of affection, and the deepest regard to her 
 judgment. " I hear many terrible things towards me ; 
 but they all never touched me, never so near, nor were 
 they so grievous unto me as to see you, my well beloved 
 
 * Roper, 78. -. . t Nares's Glossary, London, 1822.
 
 94 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 child, in such a piteous and vehement manner, labour to 
 persuade me to a thing whereof I have of pure necessity, 
 for respect unto myne own soul, so often given you so 
 precise an answer before. The matters that move my 
 conscience I have sundry times shown you, that I will 
 disclose them to no one.* Margaret's reply was worthy 
 of herself. She acquiesces in his " faithful and delectable 
 letter, the faithful messenger of his virtuous mind," and 
 almost rejoices in his victory over all earthborn cares. 
 She concludes thus : " Your own most loving obedient 
 daughter and bedeswoman+, Margaret Roper, who de- 
 sireth above all worldly things to be in John Wood's 
 stede to do you some service." This John Wood was 
 the servant permitted to attend sir Thomas More in the 
 Tower. After another interval, however, pity prevailed 
 so far as to obtain the king's licence for Margaret Roper 
 to resort to him in the Tower. It would be blamable 
 to seek for bad motives in the case of so merciful an 
 alleviation of punishment. 
 
 On her first visit, after gratefully performing their 
 accustomed devotions, his first care was to soothe her 
 afflicted heart by the assurance that he saw no cause to 
 reckon himself in worse case there than in his own 
 house. On another occasion he asked her how queen 
 Anne did. " In faith, father," said she, " never 
 better." " Never better, Megg ! " quoth he ; " alas ! 
 Megg, it pitieth me to remember into what misery, poor 
 soul, she shall shortly come." Various attempts con- 
 tinued still to be made to cajole him ; partly, perhaps, 
 with the hope that his intercourse with the beloved Mar- 
 garet might have softened him. Cromwell told him that 
 the king was still his good master, and did not wish to 
 press his conscience. The lords commissioners went 
 twice to the Tower to tender the oath to him. But neither 
 he nor Fisher would advance farther than their original 
 declaration of perfect willingness to maintain the settle- 
 ment of the crown, which, being a matter purely poli.- 
 
 * English Works, 1430. 
 
 f Id. 1431. Bedesman one who prays for another. 
 
 t Roper, 72.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 95 
 
 tical, was within the undisputed competence of parlia- 
 ment. They refused to include in their oath any other 
 matter on account of scruples of conscience, which they 
 forbore to particularise, lest they might thereby furnish 
 their enemies with a pretext for representing their de- 
 fence as a new crime. As their real ground, which was, 
 that it would be insincere in them to declare upon oath, 
 that they believed the king's marriage with Anne to be 
 lawful, they might, by the statement of that ground in 
 defending themselves against a charge of misprision of 
 treason, have incurred the penalties of high treason. 
 
 Two difficulties occurred in reconciling the destruction 
 of sir Thomas More with any form or colour of law. 
 The first of them consisted in the circumstance that the 
 naked act of refusing the oath was, even by the late sta- 
 tute, punishable only as a misprision ; and though con- 
 cealment of treason was never expressly declared to be 
 only a misprision till the statute to that effect was passed 
 under Philip and Mary *, chiefly perhaps occasioned by 
 the case of More, yet it seemed strange thus to pro- 
 secute him for the refusal, as an act of treason, after it 
 had been positively made punishable as a misprision by 
 a general statute, and after a special act of attainder for 
 misprision had been passed against him. Both these 
 enactments were, on the supposition of the refusal being 
 indictable for treason, absolutely useless, and such as 
 tended to make More believe that he was safe as long 
 as he remained silent. The second has been already 
 intimated, that he had yet said nothing which could 
 be tortured into a semblance of those acts deroga- 
 tory from the king's marriage, which had been made 
 treason. To conquer this last difficulty, sir Robin Rich 
 the solicitor-general undertook the infamous task of be- 
 traying More into some declaration, which might be pre- 
 tended to be treasonable, in a confidential conversation, 
 and under pretext of familiar friendship. What the suc- 
 cess of this flagitious attempt was, the reader will see in 
 the account of More's trial. It appears from a letter of 
 
 * 1 & 2 Phil and Mar. c. 10. s. 8.
 
 96 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 Margaret Roper, apparently written in the winter of 
 15845, that his persecutors now tried another expe- 
 dient for vanquishing his constancy, by restraining him 
 from church, and she 'adds, " from the company of my 
 good mother and his poor children."* More, in his 
 answer, expresses his wonted affection in very familiar, 
 but in most significant, language : " If I were to de- 
 clare in writing how much pleasure your daughterly loving 
 letters gave me, a peck of coals would not suffice to 
 make the pens." So confident was he of his innocence, 
 and so safe did he deem himself on the side of law, that 
 " he believed some new causeless suspicion, founded 
 upon some secret sinister information," had risen up 
 against him. t 
 
 On the 2d or 3d of May, 1535, sir Thomas More in- 
 formed his dear daughter of a visit from Cromwell, at- 
 tended by the attorney and solicitor general, and certain 
 civilians, at which Cromwell urged to More the statute 
 which made the king head of the church, and required 
 an answer on that subject. More replied ; " I am the 
 king's true faithful subject, and daily bedesman : I say 
 no harm, and do no harm ; and if this be not enough to 
 keep a man alive, in good faith I long not to live." This 
 ineffectual attempt was followed by another visit from 
 Cranmer, the chancellor, the duke of Suffolk, the earl of 
 Wiltshire, and Cromwell, who, after much argument, 
 tendered an oath, by which he was to promise to make 
 answers to questions which they might put J; and on his 
 decisive refusal, Cromwell gave him to understand that, 
 agreeably to the language at the former conference, " his 
 grace would follow the course of his laws towards such 
 as he should find obstinate." Cranmer, who too gene- 
 rally complied with evil counsels, but nearly always la- 
 boured to prevent their execution, wrote a persuasive 
 letter to Cromwell, earnestly praying the king to be con- 
 tent with More and Fisher's proffered engagement to 
 maintain the succession, which would render the whole 
 
 * EngL Works, 1446. t W. 1447. 
 
 J More to Margaret Roper. EugL Works, 14,52.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 97 
 
 nation unanimous on the practical part of that great 
 subject. 
 
 On the 6th of May, 1535, almost immediately after 
 the defeat of every attempt to practise on his firmness, 
 More was brought to trial at Westminster, and it will 
 scarcely be doubted, that no such culprit stood at any 
 European bar for a thousand years. It is rather from 
 caution than from necessity that the ages of Roman 
 domination are excluded from the comparison. It does 
 not seem that in any moral respect Socrates himself 
 could claim a superiority. It is lamentable that the re- 
 cords of the proceedings against such a man should be 
 scanty. We do not certainly know the specific offence of 
 which he was convicted. There does not seem, however, 
 to be much doubt that the prosecution was under the act 
 ' ' for the establishment of the king's succession," passed 
 in the session 15334*, which made it high treason " to 
 do any thing to the prejudice, slander, disturbance, or 
 derogation of the lawful marriage " between Henry and 
 Anne. Almost any act, done or declined, might be forced 
 within the undefined limits of such vague terms. In 
 this case the prosecutors probably represented his refusal 
 to answer certain questions which, according to them, 
 must have related to the marriage, his observations at 
 his last examination, and especially his conversation 
 with Rich, as overt acts of that treason, inasmuch as 
 it must have been known by him that his conduct on 
 these occasions tended to create a general doubt of the 
 legitimacy of the marriage. 
 
 To the first alleged instance of his resistance to the 
 king, which consisted in his original judgment against 
 the marriage, he answered in a manner which rendered 
 reply impossible ; " that it could never be treason for 
 one of the king's advisers to give him honest advice." 
 On the like refusal respecting the king's headship of the 
 church, he answered that " no man could be punished 
 for silence." The attorney general said, that the pri- 
 soner's silence was " malicious." More justly answered, 
 
 * 25 H. VIII. c.22. 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 that " he had a right to be silent where his language was 
 likely to be injuriously misconstrued." Respecting his 
 letters to bishop Fisher, they were burnt, and no evi- 
 dence was offered of their contents, which he solemnly 
 declared to have no relation to the charges. And as to 
 the last charge, that he had called the act of settlement 
 " a two-edged sword, which would destroy his soul if 
 he complied with it, and his body if he refused," it was 
 answered by him, that " he supposed the reason of his 
 refusal to be equally good, whether the question led to an 
 offence against his conscience, or to the necessity of cri- 
 minating himself." 
 
 Cromwell had before told him, that though he was 
 suffering perpetual imprisonment for the misprision, the 
 punishment did not release him from his allegiance, and 
 he was amenable to the law for treason. Cromwell 
 overlooked the essential circumstances, that the facts laid 
 as treason were the same on which the attainder for mis- 
 prision was founded. Even if that were not a strictly 
 maintainable objection in technical law, it certainly 
 showed the flagrant injustice of the whole proceeding. 
 
 The evidence, however, of any such strong circum- 
 stances attendant on the refusal as could raise it into 
 an act of treason must have seemed defective ; for the 
 prosecutors were reduced to the necessity of examining 
 Rich, one of their own number, to prove circumstances 
 of which he could have had no knowledge, without the 
 foulest treachery on his part. Rich said, that he had 
 gone to More as a friend, and asked him, if an act of 
 parliament had made Rich king, More would not ac- 
 knowledge him. Sir Thomas said, " Yes, sir, that I 
 would." " If they declared me pope, would you ac- 
 knowledge me ? " " In the first case, I have no doubt 
 about temporal governments ; but suppose the parlia- 
 ment should make a law that God should not be God, 
 would you then, Mr. Rich, say that God should not be 
 God ?" " No," says Rich, " no parliament could make 
 such a law." Rich went on to swear, that sir Thomas 
 More added, " No more could the parliament make the
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 99 
 
 king supreme head of the church." More denied the 
 latter part of Rich's evidence altogether ; which is, in- 
 deed, inconsistent with the whole tenour of his language. 
 More was then compelled to expose the profligacy of 
 Rich's character. " I am," he said, " more sorry for 
 your perjury, than for mine own peril. Neither I, nor 
 any man, ever took you to be a person of such credit as 
 I could communicate with on such matters. We dwelt 
 near in one parish, and you were always esteemed very 
 light of your tongue, and not of any commendable fame. 
 Can it be likely to your lordships that I should so un- 
 advisedly overshoot myself, as to trust Mr. Rich with 
 what I have concealed from the king, or any of his noble 
 and grave counsellors ? " 
 
 The credit of Rich was so deeply wounded, that he 
 was compelled to call sir Richard Southwell, and Mr. 
 Palmer, who were present at the conversation, to prop 
 his tottering evidence. They made a paltry excuse, by 
 alleging that they were so occupied in removing More's 
 books, that they did not listen to the words of this ex- 
 traordinary conversation. The jury *, in spite of these 
 circumstances, convicted sir Thomas More. Chancellor 
 Audley, who was at the head of the commission, of which 
 Spelman and Fitzherbert, eminent lawyers, were mem- 
 bers, was about to pronounce judgment, when he was 
 interrupted by sir Thomas More, who claimed the usual 
 privilege of being heard to show that judgment should 
 not be passed. 
 
 More urged, that he had so much ground for his 
 scruples as at least to exempt his refusal from the im- 
 putation of disaffection, or of what the law deems to be 
 malice. The chancellor asked him once more how his 
 scruples could balance the weight of the parliament, 
 people, and church of England ? a topic which had been 
 used against him at every interview and conference since 
 he was brought prisoner to Lambeth. The appeal to 
 
 * Sir T. Palmer, sir T. Bent, G. Lovell, esquire, Thomas Burbage, esquire, 
 G. Chamber, gentleman, Edward Stockmore, William Brown, Jasper Leake, 
 Thomas Bellington, John Parnell, Richard Bellamy, and G. Stoakes, gen. 
 tlemen, were the jury. 
 
 H 2
 
 100 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 weight of authority influencing conscience was, how- 
 ever, singularly unfortunate. More answered, as he had 
 always done, " Nine out of ten of Christians now in the 
 world think with me. Nearly all the learned doctors 
 and holy fathers who are already dead, agree with me : 
 and therefore I think myself not bound to conform my 
 conscience to the councell of one realm against the ge- 
 neral consent of all Christendom." Chief Justice Fitz- 
 james concurred in the sufficiency of the indictment; 
 which, after the verdict of the jury, was the only matter 
 before the court. 
 
 The chancellor then pronounced the savage sentence 
 which the law directed in cases of treason. More, hav- 
 ing no longer any measures to keep, openly declared, 
 that after seven years' study, " he could find no colour 
 for holding that a layman could be head of the church." 
 The commissioners once more offered him a favourable 
 audience for any matter which he had to propose. 
 " More have I not to say, my lords, but that as St. Paul 
 held the clothes of those who stoned Stephen to death, 
 and as they are both now saints in heaven, and shall 
 continue there friends for ever ; so I verily trust, and 
 shall therefore right heartily pray, that though your lord- 
 ships have now here on earth been judges to my con- 
 demnation, we may, nevertheless, hereafter cheerfully 
 meet in heaven, in everlasting salvation."* 
 
 Sir W. Kingston, " his very dear friend," constable of 
 the Tower, as, with tears running down his cheeks, he 
 conducted his prisoner from Westminster, condoled with 
 sir T. More, who endeavoured to assuage the sorrow of 
 his friend by the consolations of religion. The same gen- 
 tleman said afterwards to Roper, "I was ashamed of 
 myself when I found my heart so feeble, and his so 
 strong." 
 
 Margaret Roper, his good angel, watched for his 
 
 landing at the Tower wharf. " After his blessing upon 
 
 her knees reverently received, without care of herself, 
 
 pressing in the midst of the throng, and the guards that 
 
 * Roper, p. 90.
 
 SIB THOMAS MORE. 101 
 
 were about him with halberts and bills, she hastily ran 
 to him, and openly, in sight of them all, embraced and 
 kissed him. He gave her again his fatherly blessing. 
 After separation she, all ravished with the entire love of 
 her dear father, suddenly turned back again, ran to him 
 as before, took him about the neck, and divers times 
 kissed him most lovingly, a sight which made many 
 of the beholders weep and mourn." * 
 
 Thus tender was the heart of the admirable woman 
 who had at the same time the greatness of soul to 
 strengthen her father's fortitude, by disclaiming the ad- 
 vice for which he, having mistaken her meaning, had 
 meekly rebuked her, to prefer life to right. 
 
 On the 14th of June, he was once more examined by 
 four civilians in the Tower. " He was asked, first, 
 whether he would obey the king as supreme head of the 
 church of England on earth immediately under Christ ? 
 to which he said, that he could make no answer. Se- 
 condly, whether he would consent to the king's marriage 
 with queen Anne, and affirm the marriage with the lady 
 Catharine to have been unlawful ? To which he an- 
 swered that he did never speak nor meddle against the 
 same ; and, thirdly, whether he is not bound to answer 
 the said question, and to recognise the headship as afore- 
 said ? To which he said, that he could make no 
 answer." t 
 
 It is evident that these interrogatories, into which 
 some terms peculiarly objectionable to More were now 
 for the first time inserted, were contrived for the sole 
 purpose of reducing the illustrious victim to the option 
 of uttering a lie or of suffering death. The conspirators 
 against him might, perhaps, have a faint idea that they 
 had at length broken his spirit. If he persisted, they 
 hoped that he might be represented as bringing destruc- 
 tion on himself by his own obstinacy. 
 
 Such, however, was his calm and well-ordered mind, 
 that he said and did nothing to provoke his fate. Had 
 
 * Roper, p. 90. 
 
 t English Works, 14.58. Printed, London, 1557 ; and Roper, p. 92. 
 H 3
 
 102 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 he given affirmative answers, he would have sworn 
 falsely : he was the martyr of veracity. He perished only 
 because he was sincere. On Monday, the 5th of July, 
 1535, he wrote a farewell letter to Margaret Roper, 
 with his usual materials of coal. It contained blessings 
 to all his children by name, with a kind remembrance 
 even to one of Margaret's maids. Adverting to their 
 last interview, on the quay, he says, "I never liked 
 your manner towards me better than when you kissed 
 me last ; for I love when daughterly love and dear 
 charity have no leisure to look to worldly courtesy." 
 
 On Tuesday, the 6th of July (St. Thomas's eve), 1535, 
 sir Thomas Pope, " his singular good friend," came to 
 him early with a message from the king and council, to 
 say that he should die before nine o'clock of the same 
 morning. " The king's pleasure," said Pope, " is that 
 you shall not use many words." "I did purpose," 
 answered More, " to have spoken somewhat, but I will 
 conform myself to the king's commandment, and I be- 
 seech you to obtain from him that my daughter Mar- 
 garet may be present at my burial." " The king is 
 already content that your wife, children, and other 
 friends shall be present thereat." The lieutenant brought 
 him to the scaffold, which was so weak that it was ready 
 to fall, on which he said, merrily, " Master lieutenant, 
 I pray you see me safe up, and for my coming down 
 let me shift for myself." When he laid his head on 
 the block he desired the executioner to wait till he had 
 removed his beard, for that had never offended his high- 
 ness. 
 
 He has been censured by some for such levities at the 
 moment of death. These are censorious cavils, which 
 would not be worthy of an allusion if they had not oc- 
 casioned some sentences of as noble reflection, and beau- 
 tiful composition, as the English language contains. 
 "The innocent mirth, which had been so conspicuous in 
 his life, did not forsake him to the last. His death was 
 of a piece with his life; there was nothing in it new, 
 forced, or affected. He did not look upon the severing
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 103 
 
 his head from his body as a circumstance which ought 
 to produce any change in the disposition of his mind ; 
 and as he died in a fixed and settled hope of immor- 
 tality, he thought any unusual degree of sorrow and 
 concern improper."* 
 
 According to the barbarous practice of laws which 
 vainly struggle to carry their cruelty beyond the grave, 
 the head of sir Thomas More was placed on London 
 bridge. His darling daughter, Margaret, had the cou- 
 rage to procure the head to be taken down, that she 
 might exercise her affection by continuing to look on a 
 head so dear. Carrying her love beyond the grave, she 
 desired that it might be buried with her when she died, 
 which was about nine years after the fate of her father. 
 The remains of this precious relic are said to have been 
 since observed in the burial place, lying on what had 
 been her bosom. Her male descendants appear to have 
 been soon extinct. Her descendants through females 
 are probably numerous, f This admirable woman resem- 
 bled her father in mind, in manner, in the features and 
 expression of her countenance, and in her form and gait. 
 Her learning was celebrated throughout Christendom : it 
 is seldom that literature wears a more agreeable aspect 
 than when it becomes a bond of union between such a 
 father and such a daughter. His eldest son, John, 
 married Anne Crisacre, the heiress of an estate at Barn- 
 borough, near Doncaster, still held by his posterity 
 through females-! The mansion of the Mores still subsists 
 there. The last male descendant of sir Thomas More, 
 was Thomas More, a Jesuit, who was principal of the 
 college of Jesuits at Bruges, and died at Bath in 1795, 
 having survived his famous order, and, according to the 
 appearances of that time, his ancient religion ; as if the 
 family of More were one of the many ties which may 
 be traced through the interval of two centuries and a 
 
 * Spectator, No. 349. 
 
 t One of them, Mr. James Hinton Baverstock, inserted his noble pedi. 
 gree from Margaret, in 1819, in a copy of More's English Works, at thU 
 moment before me. 
 
 t Hunter's South Yorkshire, pp. 374, 375. 
 
 H 4
 
 104 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 half between the revolutions of religion and those of 
 government. 
 
 The letters and narratives of Erasmus diffused the 
 story of More's fate throughout Europe. Cardinal Pole 
 bewailed it with elegance and feeling. It filled Italy, 
 the most cultivated portion of Europe, with horror. 
 Paulo Jovio called Henry a Phalaris, though we shall 
 in vain look in the story of Phalaris, or of any other 
 real or legendary tyrant, for a victim worthy of being 
 compared to More. The English ministers throughout 
 Europe were regarded with averted eyes as the agents of 
 a monster. At Venice, Henry, after this deed, was deemed 
 capable of any crimes. He was believed there to have 
 murdered Catharine, and to be about to murder his 
 daughter Mary.* The catholic zeal of Spain, and the 
 resentment of the Spanish people against the oppression 
 of Catharine, quickened their sympathy with More, and 
 aggravated their detestation of Henry. Mason, the envoy 
 at Valladolid, thought every pure Latin phrase too weak 
 for More, and describes him by a phrase as contrary to 
 the rules of that language as ' ' thrice greatest t " would 
 be to the idiom of ours. When intelligence of his death 
 was brought to the emperor Charles V., he sent for sir 
 T. Elliot, the English embassador, and said to him, " My 
 lord embassador, we understand that the king your mas- 
 ter has put his wise counsellor sir Thomas More to death." 
 Elliot, abashed, made answer that he understood nothing 
 thereof. " Well," said the emperor, " it is too true ; 
 and this we will say, that if we had been master of such 
 a servant, we should rather have lost the best city in our 
 dominions than have lost such a worthy counsellor." 
 " Which matter," says Roper, in the concluding words 
 of his beautiful narrative, " was by sir T. Elliot told to 
 myself, my wife, to Mr. Clement and his wife, and to 
 Mr. Heywood and his wife." J 
 
 * Ellis's Letters. 
 
 f " Ter maximus ille Moms." Ellis. 
 
 i Instead of Heywood, perhaps we ought to read " Heron?" In that 
 case the three daughters of sir Thomas More would be present. Mrs. 
 Roper was the eldest, Mrs. Clement the second, and Cecilia Heron the 
 youngest
 
 SIB THOMAS MORE. 105 
 
 Of all men nearly perfect, sir Thomas More had, 
 perhaps, the clearest marks of individual character. His 
 peculiarities, though distinguishing him from all others, 
 were yet withheld from growing into moral faults. It is 
 not enough to say of him that he was unaffected, that 
 he was natural, that he was simple j so the larger part 
 of truly great men have heen. But there is something 
 homespun in More which is common to him with 
 scarcely any other, and which gives to all his faculties 
 and qualities the appearance of being the native growth 
 of the soil. The homeliness of his pleasantry purifies it 
 from show. He walks on the scaffold clad only in his 
 household goodness. The unrefined benignity with which 
 he ruled his patriarchal dwelling at Chelsea enabled him 
 to look on the axe without being disturbed by feeling 
 hatred for the tyrant. This quality bound together his 
 genius and learning, his eloquence and fame, with his 
 homely and daily duties, bestowing a genuineness on all 
 his good qualities, a dignity on the most ordinary offices 
 of life, and an accessible familiarity on the virtues of a 
 hero and a martyr, which silences every suspicion that 
 his excellences were magnified. 
 
 He thus simply performed great acts, and uttered great 
 thoughts, because they were familiar to his great soul. 
 The charm of this inborn and homebred character seems 
 as if it would have been taken off by polish. It is this 
 household character which relieves our notion of him from 
 vagueness, and divests perfection of that generality and 
 coldness to which the attempt to paint a perfect man is 
 so liable. 
 
 It will naturally, and very strongly, excite the regret 
 of the good in every age, that the life of this best of 
 men should have been in the power of him who was 
 rarely surpassed in wickedness. But the execrable Henry 
 was the means of drawing forth the magnanimity, the 
 fortitude, and the meekness of More. Had Henry been 
 a just and merciful monarch, we should not have known 
 the degree of excellence to which human nature is 
 capable of ascending. Catholics ought to see in More,
 
 106 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 that mildness and .candour are the true ornaments of all 
 modes of faith. Protestants ought to be taught hu- 
 mility and charity from this instance of the wisest and 
 best of men falling into, what they deem, the most fatal 
 errors. All men, in the fierce contests of contending 
 factions should, from such an example, learn the wis- 
 dom to fear lest in their most hated antagonist they 
 may strike down a sir Thomas More ; for assuredly 
 virtue is not so narrow as to be confined to any party; 
 and we have, in the case of More, a signal example that 
 the nearest approach to perfect excellence does not ex- 
 empt men from mistakes which we may justly deem 
 mischievous. It is a pregnant proof, that we should 
 beware of hating men for their opinions, or of adopt- 
 ing their doctrines because we love and venerate their 
 virtues. 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 MY literary occupations are of a nature which render it im- 
 portant to me that I should not be considered as answerable 
 for the opinions of others concerning persons and events, which 
 I may soon be called upon to treat in another form. I therefore 
 wish to add here, though somewhat out of place, that I have 
 not seen any portion of this collection but the above sketch, 
 and that I know nothing of the contents of any other part 
 of it. 
 
 Some particulars in the life of sir T. More I am obliged to 
 leave to more fortunate enquirers. They are, indeed, very 
 minute ; but they may appear to others worthy of being ascer- 
 tained, as they appeared to me, from their connection with the 
 life of a wise and good man. 
 
 The records of the privy council are preserved only since 
 1540, so that we do not exactly know the date of his admission 
 into that body. The time when he was knighted (then a mat-
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 10? 
 
 ter of some moment) is not known. As the whole of his life 
 passed during the great chasm in writs for election and returns 
 of members of parliament, from 1477 to 1542, the places for 
 which sir T. More sat, and the year of his early opposition to a 
 subsidy, are unascertained ; notwithstanding the obliging ex- 
 ertion of the gentlemen employed in the repositories at the 
 Tower, and in the Rolls' chapel. We know that he was speaker 
 of the house of commons in 1523 and 1524.* Browne Willis 
 owns his inability to fix the place f ; but he conjectured it to 
 have been " either Middlesex, where he resided, or Lancaster, 
 of which duchy he was chancellor." But that laborious and 
 useful writer would not have mentioned the latter branch of his 
 alternative, nor probably the former, if he had known that 
 More was not chancellor of the Duchy till two years after bis 
 speakership. 
 
 An anecdote in More's chancellorship is connected with an 
 English phrase, of which the origin is not quite satisfactorily 
 explained. An attorney in his court, named Tubb, gave an 
 account in court of a cause in which he was concerned, which 
 the chancellor (who with all his gentleness loved a joke) thought 
 so rambling and incoherent, that he said at the end of Tubb's 
 speech, " This is a tale of a tub ;" plainly showing that the 
 phrase was then familiarly known. 
 
 The learned Mr. Douce has informed a friend of mine, that 
 in Sebastian Munster's Cosmography, there is a cut of a ship, 
 to which a whale was coming too close for her safety, and of 
 the sailors throwing a tub to the whale, evidently to play with. 
 The practice of throwing a tub or barrel to a large fish, to 
 divert the huge animal from gambols dangerous to a vessel, is 
 also mentioned in an old prose translation of The Ship of 
 Fools. 
 
 These passages satisfactorily explain the common phrase of 
 throwing a tub to a whale ; but they do not account for leaving 
 out the whale, and introducing the new word tale. The tran- 
 sition from the first phrase to the second is a considerable stride. 
 It is not, at least, directly explained by Mr. Douce's citations ; 
 and no explanation of it has hitherto occurred which can be 
 
 * Rolls of Parliament in 1 Lords' Journal. 
 ( Notit Parliament, in. 112.
 
 108 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 supported by proof. It may be thought probable that, in pro- 
 cess of time, some nautical wag compared a rambling story, 
 which he suspected of being lengthened and confused, in order 
 to turn his thoughts from a direction not convenient to the story 
 teller, with the tub which he and his shipmates were wont to 
 throw out to divert the whale from striking the bark, and per- 
 haps said, " This tale is, like our tub to the whale." The 
 comparison might have become popular ; and it might gradually 
 have been shortened into "a tale of a tub." 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 TO 
 THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM THE RECORDS OF THE CITY OF LONDON RELATING 
 TO THE APPOINTMENT OF SIR THOMAS MORE TO BE UNDER- 
 SHERIFF OF LONDON, AND SOME APPOINTMENTS OF HIS IMME- 
 DIATE PREDECESSORS AND OF HIS SUCCESSOR. 
 
 (27th September. A. D. 1496.) 
 
 " Commune consilium tentum die Martij Vicesimo 
 Septimo die Septembr" Anno Regni Regis Henr" 
 Septimi duo decimo. 
 
 " In isto Comun Consilio Thomas Sail et Thomas Marowe 
 confirmati sunt in Subvic" Civitati : London p anno sequent, &c." 
 
 (1497.) 
 
 " Comune Consiliu tent~ die Lune xxv* die Sept" 
 
 anno Regni Regs Henf vii. xiij. 
 
 " Isto die Thomas Marowe et Ed* Dudley confirmaf sunt in 
 Sub Vic" Cit* London p anno sequ."
 
 APPENDIX. 109 
 
 (1498 & 1501.) 
 
 Similar entries of the confirmation of Thomas Marowe and 
 Edward Dudley are made in the 14th, 15th, 16th, and 17th 
 Henry VII., and at a court of aldermen, held on the 
 
 (1502.) 
 
 17th Nov. 18 Henry 7. the following entry appears : 
 " Ad hanc Cur" Thomas Marowe uiis sub vicecomitu sponte 
 resignat offiiii suu." 
 
 And at a Common Council held on the same day, is 
 
 entered 
 
 " In isto Communi Consilio Radus adye Gentilman elect" est 
 in unu Subvic" Civitats London loco Thome Marwe Gentil- 
 man qui illud officiu sponte resignavit, capiend" feod~ con- 
 suet'." 
 
 " Coe Consiliu tent die Martis iij die Septembris 
 
 anno Regni Reg" Henrici Octavi Secundo. 
 " Eodni die Thorns More Gent elect" est in unu Subvic Ci- 
 vitats London loc~ Ric~ Broke Gent qui nup elect" fuit in Re- 
 cordator London." 
 
 " Martis Viij die Maii 6 th Henry 8. 
 " Court of Aldermen. 
 
 " Yt ys agreed that Thomas More Gent oon of Under- 
 sheryfes of London which shall go ov~ the Kings Ambasset in 
 to fflaunders shall occupie his Rowme and office by his suf- 
 ficient Depute untyll his cumyng home ageyn" 
 
 " Martis xj die Marcii 7 Henry VIII th 
 " Court of Aldermen. 
 
 " Ye shall sweare that ye shall kepe the Secrets of this Courte 
 and not to disclose eny thing ther spoken for the coen welthe 
 of this citie that myght hurt eny psone or brother of the seyd 
 courte onles yt be spoken to his brothr or to other which in his 
 conscience and discretion shall thynk yt to be for the co"en 
 welthe of this citie. So help you God."
 
 110 APPENDIX. 
 
 " Jovis xiij die Marcii 7 Henry 8. 
 " Court of Aldermen. 
 
 " Itm ad ista Cur~ Thomas More and Wills" Shelley Subvice" 
 Ci ts London juf" sunt ad articlm supdcm spect xj die marcii." 
 
 Venis 23 July, 10 Henry 8. 
 " Court of Aldermen. 
 
 " Ad istam Cur~ Thomas More Gent un Subvic" Ci l * in 
 Compuf Pulletr London libe" et sponte Surr" et resign officm 
 pdcm in manu~ Maioris et Aldror." 
 
 " Coie Consiliu tent" die Venis xxiij die Julii anno 
 regni regis Henrici Octavi decimo." 
 
 " Isto die Johes Pakyngton Gent admissus est in unif subvic" 
 Civitats London loco Thome More qui spont et libe" resignavit 
 Officiu~illud ia Man" Maioris aldror et Cois'consilii. Et jur 
 est &c."
 
 Ill 
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 
 14711530. 
 
 THOMAS CARDINAL WOLSEY, the celebrated prime mini- 
 ster and favourite of Henry VII I., was born at Ipswich, 
 in Suffolk, in 1471. According to Cavendish, his gentle- 
 man usher and biographer, he was " an honest poor 
 man's son," under which vagueness of expression it is 
 supposed an attempt is made to conceal the fact of his 
 father having been a butcher.* That his father was a 
 man at least of moderate wealth, is evident from his will, 
 in which, among other legacies, he bequeaths " all his 
 land and tenements" in the parish of St. Nicholas, and 
 his " free and bond lands" in St. Stoke, to his widow; 
 and, indeed, may be inferred from the circumstance of 
 his son's entering the university of Oxford at a very 
 early age. Wolsey was eminently favoured by nature 
 in grace and beauty of person. Hence Shakspeare hap- 
 pily says of him, that he " was fashioned to much 
 honour from the cradle." Of those incidents and cir- 
 cumstances of his early domestic life, which might 
 throw light on the formation of his character, we un- 
 fortunately possess no information. Cavendish merely 
 tells us, that from his childhood he was " very apt to 
 learning ;" and he himself used, in the very zenith of 
 his fortune, to appeal, with laudable vanity, to his uni- 
 
 There being no direct testimony to the fact of Wolsey's father having 
 been a butcher, a foolish controversy has been waged concerning its pro- 
 bability. That he was a man of humble origin, " an honest poor man," 
 as Cavendish designates him, is admitted on all hands; and it matters 
 little what may have been his vocation, so far as the natal pretensions of his 
 son to power and distinction are concerned. In the text we have assumed 
 him to have been a butcher, because such was the belief of his contem- 
 poraries. He is distinctly alluded to as the butcher's dog in the satirical 
 poem, erroneously ascribed, according to Mr. Singer (edition of Caven- 
 dish's Life), to Skelton ; and by that dyslogistic epithet, Hall tells us, the 
 populace usually characterised him. Luther calls him a butcher's son in 
 his Colloquies ; and Polydore Vergil also speaks of his father as a butcher. 
 That his father died in easy circumstances, as stated in the text, is evident 
 from his will, which the reader will find copied in the Appendix to Mr. 
 Singer's excellent edition of Cavendish.
 
 112 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 versity appellation of the boy bachelor, as the best proof 
 of his early devotion to literature. 
 
 He was entered, most probably with a view to the 
 church as a means of livelihood, the church being then 
 the great ladder of ambition to men of lowly birth, of 
 Magdalen College, Oxford, where he became a bachelor 
 of arts at fifteen years of age, an occurrence which, as 
 he himself told Cavendish, " was a rare thing, and sel- 
 dom seen." He was also, at a very early age, elected 
 fellow of Magdalen ; and having been subsequently 
 admitted to orders*, was appointed master of the pre- 
 paratory school of his college. It is no less creditable 
 to the head than to the heart of Wolsey that he was, 
 from the commencement to the end of his career, imbued 
 with a deep sense of the importance of the office of in- 
 structor of youth ; and that in his school he displayed 
 that perseverance, self-control, and unremitting vigi- 
 lance, so essential to the business of education, and, it 
 may be added, so indispensable to a penniless votary 
 of ambition. During his residence at Magdalen College, 
 he enjoyed the society of Erasmus, and, it is said, also 
 of sir T. More. 
 
 An accident as it turned out a fortunate one 
 prevented Wolsey from probably slumbering out his 
 days in the cloisters of his alma mater. It happened that 
 there were among his pupils three sons of Grey, marquis 
 of Dorset (a collateral ancestor of Lady Jane Grey), 
 who, owing to Henry's distrustfulness of the more an- 
 cient and wealthy nobility, even though they had been 
 enemies of the house of York, then lived in rural retire- 
 ment. During the Christmas holidays in 1499> Wol- 
 sey attended his " three honourable scholars" to their 
 father's house ; when he so gained upon the marquis 
 by his fascinating powers of conversation, and by the 
 
 * At the date of his father's will, 31st of September, 1496, Wolsey was 
 25 years of age ; and as it should seem was not yet in orders. " I wyll that 
 if Thomas my son be a prest within a yer next after my decease, than I 
 wyll that he syng for me and my frends, be the space of a yer, and he for 
 to have for his salary X more, and, if the seyd Thomas my son be not a 
 prest than I wyll that another honest prest syng for me." The expression, 
 however, implies that Wolsey was preparing to take orders.
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 113 
 
 progress which his pupils had made under his care, that 
 that nobleman presented him to the rectory of Lyming- 
 ton in Somersetshire, a benefice in the gift of his fa- 
 mily. Wolsey was in the 29th year of his age when 
 he obtained this his first church preferment, for which 
 he immediately relinquished his school and other col- 
 legiate appointments. Before, however, he left the 
 university, he had given proofs of the love of literature, 
 enterprising magnificence, and patronage of art, which 
 were the virtues of his character ; and had given occa- 
 sion for the suspicion of that disregard of any quality 
 in means except their immediate efficacy, which was his 
 predominant and fatal vice. He was elected bursar of 
 his college in 1498, at which time Erasmus was at Ox- 
 ford; and he zealously concurred with that eminent 
 scholar and genius (whose venal praise and dispraise of 
 Wolsey are alike disgraceful to literature) in encou- 
 raging the study of the Greek writers, or, as it was then 
 called, the new learning. At the same time Wolsey had 
 erected the tower of Magdalen College chapel, known by 
 the name of Wolxey's Tower, admired for the chaste 
 simplicity and elegance of its architecture. The build- 
 ing of this tower involved Wolsey in pecuniary em- 
 barrassments which affected his reputation : for he is 
 affirmed to have fraudulently applied the college funds, 
 over which his office of bursar gave him some control, 
 to the erection of the edifice ; and is even reported 
 to have used violent means to supply himself from the 
 college treasury with the necessary money. The same 
 taste for building attended and embarrassed him in 
 every stage of his career : for no sooner was he settled 
 in his " cure" than he set about repairing and beauti- 
 fying the church and parsonage house ; and to this day 
 Esher, Christ Church college Oxford, and Hampton 
 Court remain monuments of his wealth, love of magni- 
 ficence, and genius for architecture. Never, indeed, was 
 there a clergyman to whom the designation in the epi- 
 gram " ut donem pastor et cedificem," would more 
 happily apply. 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 Wolsey remained at the rectory of Lymington but 
 two years, during which an incident, curious in many 
 of its bearings, occurred, that is not unworthy of our 
 notice. Wolsey, being of a " free and sociable temper" 
 (ive quote the Biographia Britannica), went with some 
 of his neighbours to a fair in an adjacent town, where 
 his reverence is said to have got so drunk * as to create 
 some disorders ; for which he was punished by a sir 
 Amyas Paulet, a neighbouring justice of the peace, with 
 the "ignominious durance" of the public stocks of the 
 town. This incident is interesting as illustrative of the 
 manners of the times. The fact of a beneficed clergy- 
 man being thus held up to popular derision for an in- 
 decorum which many of his successors, even in the 
 present day, might term an act of good fellowship, jars 
 much with our notions of modern refinement. But it 
 clearly shows the fruitfulness of the English soil for the 
 seeds of the approaching Reformation; and proves that 
 our catholic ancestors were not so priest-ridden, nor 
 those priests so openly dissolute in their habits, as pro- 
 testant zeal has repeatedly asserted. It is probable that 
 Wolsey considered the affront to be aimed at the mean- 
 ness of his birth ; for, being of a temper less prone to 
 resent injuries than contempt, he held it in angry recol- 
 lection till fortune placed the offender within his power. 
 Though prudence and magnanimity should have pre- 
 vented his raking up the transaction from probable 
 oblivion, Wolsey, on his becoming lord chancellor, 
 sent for sir Amyas, and, sternly reprimanding him for 
 his affront to the rector of Lymington, commanded him 
 to remain within the bounds of the Temple during plea- 
 sure. The mode by which, after a confinement of five 
 or six years, the unlucky justice at length mitigated the 
 resentment of the vindictive minister is characteristic. 
 
 * The ground for this assertion is not known, and should seem to have 
 no earlier authority than sir John Harrington. Cavendish professes igno- 
 rance of the cause which, " Sir, by your leave, made the knight so bold to 
 set the schoohnaster by the feet during pleasure." It may be remarked that 
 Storer, in his metrical life of Wolsey, represents him as the injured party. 
 " Wrong'd by a knight for no desert of mine." See Singer's edition of 
 Cavendish.
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 115 
 
 He embellished the exterior of his residence, situate at 
 the gate of the Middle Temple, with the arms, the hat, 
 and other badges of distinction proper to Wolsey as a 
 cardinal; and by this architectural offering to the haughty 
 churchman's vanity obtained his liberty. 
 
 On leaving Lymington (the emoluments of the living 
 of which he, however, did not resign for seven years 
 after, having in the mean time obtained two papal 
 dispensations for holding a plurality of benefices), "Wol- 
 sey entered the service of Deane, archbishop of Canter- 
 terbury, as domestic chaplain, and soon after that of sir 
 John Nanfar, treasurer of Calais, in the same capacity. 
 The circumstance of his being thus received into the 
 household of the archbishop of Canterbury abundantly 
 disproves an assertion of some of his biographers, that, 
 overwhelmed with shame for the ill odour in which his 
 dissolute conduct at his cure of Lymington caused him 
 to be held, he fled from it suddenly on the death, in 
 1501, of his patron, the marquis of Dorset; and is, in- 
 deed, hardly reconcileable with the scandalous tradition 
 of his inebriety which we have just noticed. Though 
 nominally but chaplain, sir John Nanfar, owing to the 
 infirmity of old age, soon committed to him the whole 
 management of his office, in which Wolsey gave so 
 much satisfaction, that on the knight's return to Eng- 
 land, he recommended him with such earnestness to the 
 king, that Henry (VII.), ever willing to secure the ser- 
 vices of men of practical ability, made him one of his 
 chaplains. 
 
 This was the step to fortune which Wolsey had long 
 panted for, and which he failed not speedily to improve, 
 as it afforded full scope for the display of all those na- 
 tural and acquired advantages in which he is admitted 
 to have excelled. We have said that he was eminently 
 favoured by nature in dignity of person and manner : 
 he was, moreover, celebrated according to Cavendish for 
 c< a special gift of natural eloquence, with a filed tongue 
 to pronounce the same ; so that he was able with the 
 same to persuade and allure all men to his purpose ;" or, 
 i 2
 
 HO BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 as Shakspeare phrases it, he was " exceeding wise, fair 
 spoken, and persuading." But he possessed endow- 
 ments still more rare and valuable. Besides his great 
 fluency of diction and practised self-command, Wolsey 
 had a quick and correct perception of character and of 
 the secret springs of action, and a singular power of 
 shaping his conduct and conversation according to cir- 
 cumstances. Hence his extraordinary influence over 
 those in power with whom he came in contact, which 
 seemed to partake of the nature of fascination, and which 
 was not the less paramount and enduring that it was 
 unostentatious, and seemed to but blindly follow where, 
 in fact, it guided. With the gay, youthful, and prodi- 
 gal Henry VIII., Wolsey was betimes the magnificent 
 courtier the frolicsome companion the state Mentor, 
 and the commentator on Thomas Aquinas the grave 
 minister, and the mirthful favourite ; while with the 
 wary and calculating founder of the Tudor dynasty he 
 was remarkable for the laborious assiduity, business- 
 regularity, and monotonous steadiness of his habits. 
 Such power of self-control, combined with his splendid 
 abilities and insinuating address, could not fail to recom- 
 mend Wolsey to Henry and his ministers, particularly 
 when it was observed (as we are informed by Caven- 
 dish) that, after celebrating mass before the king, " he 
 spent not forth the day in vain idleness, but gave his 
 attendance upon those whom he thought to bear most rule 
 in the council, to be most in favour with the king," 
 chiefly upon Fox, bishop of Winchester, the most influ- 
 ential of Henry's ministers, and sir Thomas Lovell *, 
 master of the wards, both of whom early appreciated and 
 proclaimed the value of the chaplain's civil services. To 
 these statesmen Wolsey was indebted for all that a man of 
 his abilities and ambition required an opportunity of 
 evincing his zeal and address in the king's immediate ser- 
 
 \Volscy had not only the address and good qualities necessary to the 
 acquisition of such friends, but also retained them to the last The affection 
 of bishop Fox is apparent in the last letter which he wrote to him ; and sir 
 Thomas Lovell's esteem was manifested at the close of his life : for he leaves 
 him in his will " a standing cup of golde, and one hundred marks in golde." 
 _ Singer's Note.
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 117 
 
 vice, 'i he circumstances of the occasion on which he was 
 thus employed, though well known to the readers of his- 
 tory, are worthy of being quoted with some fulness, as 
 they were always referred to by Wolsey himself as the in- 
 cident which opened the way to his subsequent greatness 
 
 Henry was at the time negotiating his intended mar- 
 riage with Margaret, duchess dowager of Savoy, the 
 emperor Maximilian's only daughter; and it was neces- 
 sary to employ a person of great address to adjust with 
 the emperor in person some delicate points connected 
 with the marriage. Fox and Lovell joined in earnestly 
 recommending Wolsey as the fittest person for the com- 
 mission. " The king, giving ear unto them, and being 
 a prince of excellent judgment and modesty, commanded 
 them to bring his chaplain, whom they so much com- 
 mended, before his grace's presence. At whose repair 
 thither, to prove the wit of his chaplain, the king fell in 
 communication with him, in matters of weight and 
 gravity : and perceiving his wit to be very fine, thought 
 him sufficient to be put in trust and authority with this 
 embassy ; and commanded him to prepare himself for 
 this enterprise and journey, and for his depeche to 
 repair to his grace, and his trusty counsellors aforesaid, of 
 whom he should receive his commission and instructions; 
 by means whereof," continues Cavendish, " he had then 
 a due occasion to repair from time to time to the king's 
 presence, who perceived him more and more to be a 
 very wise man, and of a good entendement." 
 
 Wolsey, having thus satisfied the wary monarch of his 
 competency, despatched his commission with a celerity 
 which, notwithstanding the extraordinarily increased 
 facilities of modern conveyance, may perhaps still be 
 considered great, if not surprising. He left the king at 
 Richmond at four o'clock on Sunday, went to Gravesend 
 from London by water that evening in less than three 
 hours, thence posted it to Dover, where he arrived next 
 morning as the passage-boat was about to sail. By it 
 he was conveyed over to Calais before noon, whence he 
 gofc to Bruges, where Maximilian was staying, by Tues- 
 i 3
 
 118 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 day morning. Wolsey obtained an immediate audience 
 of the emperor, and pressed that his return might be 
 expedited. He received his answer late in the evening, 
 started from Bruges next morning, and arrived in Rich- 
 mond the same night. On Thursday morning he at- 
 tended at court, and threw himself at the king's feet. 
 Henry, supposing he had protracted his departure, was 
 displeased at seeing him, and began to reprove him for 
 the dilatory execution of his orders : on which Wolsey, 
 to the king's great surprise, presenting his letters of 
 credence, replied, " If it may please your highness, I 
 have already been with the emperor, and despatched 
 your affairs, I trust, to your grace's contentation." "But 
 on second thoughts," said the king, " I found that some- 
 what was omitted in your orders, and have sent a mes- 
 senger after you with fuller instructions." " Yes, for- 
 sooth, sire," quoth Wolsey, " I encountered him yesterday 
 by the way ; and, having no understanding by your 
 grace's letter of your pleasure therein, have notwith- 
 standing been so bold, upon mine own discretion (per- 
 ceiving that matter to be very necessary in that behalf), 
 to despatch the same. And, forasmuch as I have ex- 
 ceeded your grace's commission, I most humbly require 
 your gracious remission and pardon." * The king, 
 pleased with the whole transaction, gave Wolsey his 
 royal thanks, " for his good and speedy exploit," and 
 commanded him to attend after dinner ; when, says his 
 biographer, he reported his embassy to the king in coun- 
 cil with such a graceful deportment, and so eloquent 
 language, that he received the utmost applause ; all 
 declaring him to be a person of such capacity and dili- 
 gence that he deserved to be further employed. Hence- 
 forth Wolsey was regarded as on the road to power and 
 fortune, being very soon after installed in the deanery of 
 
 * In his metrical life of Wolsey, Storer thus speaks of this expedition : 
 " The Argonautic vessel never pass'd 
 
 With swifter course along the Colchian main, 
 Than my small bark, with fair and speedy blast, 
 
 Convey'd me forth, and re-convey'd again : 
 Thrice had Arcturus driven his restless wain, 
 And heaven's bright lamp the day had thrice revived, 
 From first departure till I last arrived."
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 119 
 
 Lincoln, then the most valuable benefice under a 
 bishopric ; to which were added the prebends of Stowe, 
 Walton, and Brinhald. The death of Henry at this 
 time (1509) alone prevented his receiving further marks 
 of the royal favour. 
 
 Wolsey's introduction to the new king, Henry VIII., 
 then in the bloom and promise of his youth, is usually 
 attributed to his patron bishop Fox's jealousy of his rival, 
 the earl of Surrey, the late king's high treasurer. It is 
 said that the prelate, observing that lord Surrey had 
 totally eclipsed him in favour, introduced Wolsey to the 
 young prince, with the hope that he might rival Surrey 
 in those arts which win and secure the attachment of the 
 youthful heart, and yet be content to act in the cabinet a 
 part subordinate to Fox himself. But he knew little of 
 the workings of Wolsey's proud and aspiring mind when 
 he calculated upon his resting satisfied in a subordinate 
 capacity, while there existed the remotest possibility of 
 his reaching a higher. In a very short time, by his ex- 
 traordinary address, he not only supplanted Surrey in the 
 royal favour, but also his patron Fox in the youthful 
 monarch's trust and confidence. On the accession of 
 Henry he was appointed king's almoner, an office which 
 kept him in constant attendance upon the person of the 
 monarch in his hours of relaxation, and which thereby 
 enabled him to acquire such an ascendancy over the mind 
 of Henry as was attributed to necromancy, and lasted 
 for many years the wonder of Europe. Within a year 
 after Henry's mounting the throne, he presented his 
 almoner with the splendid mansion and gardens of his 
 father's ravenous but too faithful minister Empson (who 
 had just been most illegally attainted at the shrine of 
 popularity), which adjoined his own palace of Bridewell, 
 in Fleet Street j and appointed him rector of Turrington, 
 in Exeter, canon of Windsor, registrar and soon after 
 chancellor of the order of the Garter, reporter of the pro- 
 ceedings in the star-chamber, and member of the privy 
 council : the prebend of Bugthorp and deaneries of York 
 and Hereford were added next year, 
 i 4
 
 120 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 The means by which Wolsey acquired and retained 
 his extraordinary ascendancy over Henry are such as 
 might be inferred from his quick insight into character, 
 and power of assimilating his discourse and actions ac- 
 cordingly. The language of Cavendish on this point is 
 unusually graphic : 
 
 " In whom the king conceived such a loving fantasy, 
 and in especial for that he was the most earnest and 
 readiest among all the council to advance the king's only 
 will and pleasure, without any respect to the case: the 
 king, therefore, perceived him to be a meet instrument 
 for the accomplishment of his devised will and pleasure, 
 called him more near unto him, and esteemed him so 
 highly, that his estimation and favour put all other an- 
 cient counsellors out of their accustomed favour that 
 they were in before ; insomuch that the king committed 
 all his will and pleasure unto his disposition and order. 
 Who wrought so all his matters, that all his endearour 
 was only to satisfy the king's mind; knowing right well, 
 that it was the very vein and right course to bring him 
 to high promotion. The king was young and lusty, dis- 
 posed all to mirth and pleasure, and to follow his desire 
 and appetite, nothing minding to travail in the busy 
 affairs of this realm : the which the almoner perceiving 
 very well, took upon him, therefore, to disburden the 
 king of so weighty a charge and troublesome business ; 
 putting the king in comfort that he shall not need to 
 spare any time of his pleasure for any business that ne- 
 cessarily happens in the council, as long as he being 
 there, and having the king's authority and command- 
 ment, doubted not to see all things sufficiently furnished 
 and perfected ; the which would first make the king 
 privy to all such matters as should pass through their 
 hands, before he would proceed to the finishing or deter- 
 mining of the same, whose mind and pleasure he would 
 fulfil and follow to the uttermost, wherewith the king 
 was wonderly pleased. And w y hereas the other ancient 
 counsellors would, according to the office of good coun-
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 121 
 
 sellers, divers times persuade the king to have some- 
 time an intercourse in to the council, there to hear what 
 was done in weighty matters, the which pleased the king 
 nothing at all, for he loved nothing worse than to be con- 
 strained to do any thing contrary to his royal will and 
 pleasure ; and that knew the almoner very well, having 
 a secret intelligence of the king's natural inclination, and 
 so fast as the other counsellors advised the king to leave 
 his pleasures and to attend to the affairs of his realm, 
 so busily did the almoner persuade him to the contrary ; 
 which delighted him much, and caused him to have the 
 greater affection and love to the almoner." 
 
 Henry, owing to his father's jealous care to remove 
 him from the inclination and means of acquiring a know- 
 ledge of public business, had spent his youth in the 
 pursuits of literature and scholastic theology, and had 
 acquired a relish for both. In Wolsey he found at once 
 a fellow-student and a master, who encouraged his pro- 
 pensity with a " most filed tongue and ornate eloquence." 
 Henry was prone to frolic, and the usual excesses and 
 amusements of youth and high spirits, and found in his 
 reverend expounder of the subtleties of the Thomists, 
 not a check nor a restraint, but one who took the lead in 
 every entertainment, who sported *, jested, sang, and 
 even danced, unmindful or regardless of the decorum 
 sought for in a clergyman. No doubt this unbecoming 
 pliancy of conduct would, as it eventually did in the 
 king's more adult years, lessen his respect for his fa- 
 vourite ; but youth is unsuspicious and confiding, and 
 easily won and deceived by the flattery of apparent sym- 
 pathy. Wolsey, moreover, was too good a judge of 
 human nature to suppose that Henry's vigorous under- 
 standing would be content to while away his time be- 
 
 * " He (Wolsey) came unto the king and waited upon him, and was no 
 man so obsequious and serviceable, and in all games and sports the first 
 and next at hand, and as a captain to courage others, and a gay finder out 
 of new pastimes to obtain favour with all. He spied out the nature and 
 disposition of the king's playfellows, and of all that were great, and whom 
 he spied meet for his purpose him he flattered and made faithful with great 
 purposes." Tyndale, Prac. Prel. To the same effect writes Polydore 
 Vergil. See Turner's Modern History of England.
 
 122 BRITISH STATES3IE.V. 
 
 tween court revels and Thomas Aquinas ; and therefore, 
 in the intervals of amusement, introduced business, and 
 warily insinuated those maxims of conduct which he 
 was desirous his master should adopt. He observed to 
 him, that while he intrusted his affairs to his father's 
 counsellors, he had indeed the advantage of employing 
 men of wisdom and experience, but men who owed not 
 their promotion to his own personal favour, and who 
 scarcely thought themselves accountable to him for the 
 exercise of their authority ; that by the factions, and 
 cabals, and jealousies, which had long prevailed among 
 them, they more obstructed the advancement of his affairs 
 than they promoted it by the knowledge which age 
 and practice had conferred upon them ; that while he 
 thought proper to pass his time in those pleasures to 
 which his age and royal fortune invited him, and in 
 those studies which would in time enable him to sway 
 the sceptre with absolute authority, his best system of 
 government would be to intrust his authority into the 
 hands of some one person, who was the creature of his 
 will, and who could entertain no view but that of pro- 
 moting his service ; and that if the minister had also the 
 same relish for pleasure with himself, and the same taste 
 for literature, he could more easily, at intervals, account 
 to him for his whole conduct, and introduce his master 
 gradually into the knowledge of public business ; and 
 thus, without tedious restraint or application, initiate 
 him in the science of government.* The bait took; 
 Henry, without perceiving his design, entered into all 
 his views, and Wolsey became sole and absolute minister, 
 with a more uncontrolled authority than any other British 
 subject has ever possessed. This happened in 1512, 
 three years after the accession of Henry. 
 
 The public life of Wolsey from this time properly be- 
 longs to general history ; or, rather, we should perhaps 
 be more correct in saying, that the history of England 
 from the year 1512 to 1529 is nothing more than the 
 
 Hume's History of England, on the authority of Lord Herbert and 
 Polydore Vergil. The historian is too partial to Vi'olsey's memory.
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 123 
 
 history of Wolsey's insatiable ambition. He soon con- 
 stituted himself the sole avenue to Henry's favour *, and 
 suitors of every rank found it expedient to ensure his 
 mediation by flattery and presents, which showered in 
 on him so fast, that, says Cavendish, " he wanted nothing 
 either to please his fantasy or to enrich his coffers, for- 
 tune so smiled upon him." The two rival ministers, 
 Surrey, then duke of Norfolk, and Fox, who perceived 
 too late that the servant whom he had advanced had be- 
 come his master, quailed before his ascendancy. The 
 former, not long after, rinding that the king's extrava- 
 gance far outran his revenue, was glad to resign his 
 office of treasurer, and retire from public life. Wolsey 
 immediately took upon himself the vacant office, and, by 
 the most arbitrary aggressions of authority, contrived to 
 supply his master with the means of indulging his pro- 
 digality and love of magnificence. Fox too withdrew 
 from court, and thought it prudent to confine himself 
 for the remainder of his days to the care of his diocese. 
 
 * So early as 1513, the queen (Catharine) corresponded with him confi- 
 dentially. " Maister Almoner, for the payne ye take remembring to write 
 to me soo often, I thanke you for it w h al my hert" In 1514, Mary, the 
 sister of Henry, then queen of France, addresses her " lovynge frend the 
 archebischop of Yorke," to use his influence with the king to permit lady 
 Guldeford to reside with her in France. The letter written to Wolsey by 
 Mary on her becoming a widow is worth quoting at length. 
 
 " My nanne good Lord, I recommend me to you (sometimes written zou) 
 and thankyng you for yor kynde and lovyng letter, dysyryng you of yor 
 good contenance and good lessones that you hath gyffen to me ; my lord, I 
 pray you as my trust ys in you, for to remember me to the king my brother, 
 for sowche causses and bepynes as I have for to do ; for as now I have no 
 nother to put my trust in but the kyng my brother and you. And as yt 
 shall pies the kyug my brother and hys counsel!, I wil be hordered. And 
 so I pray you, my lord, to show hys grace, seying that thekyng (Louis XII.) 
 my howsbande ys departed to God, of whos sole God pardon. And wher as 
 you avyse me that I shulde macke no promas, my lord, I trust the kyng 
 my brother and you wole not reckon in me soche chyldhode. I trust I have 
 so hordered my selffe so sens that I came better, and so I trust to conteneu. 
 Yff there be any thynge that I may do for you, I wolde be glade for to do 
 yt in thys partes. 1 shal be glade to do yt for you. No more to you at this 
 time but Jesus preserve you. 
 
 " Wretten at Pares, the x day of January, 1515, 
 
 " By your lowyng 
 
 " frende MARY, 
 " To my Lorde of Yorke. " Quene of France." 
 
 In the same tone of respect and confidence Margaret, queen of Scotland, 
 Henry's eldest sister, writes, " My lorde, I thynke ryght longe vyhil I 
 speke vyth you; for next the kyng's grace my most trust is in you, and you 
 may doo me most good of any." Ellis's Historical Letters, First Series, 
 vol. i.
 
 124 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 Brandon, the duke of Suffolk, who was married to Henry's 
 sister, " affected also to live in privacy," from disgust 
 at Wolsey's ascendancy. Thus was he left, without a 
 rival, to enjoy the whole power and favour of his sove- 
 reign. 
 
 It would, however, be an error to impute all this 
 upstart ascendancy to the influence of Wolsey's per- 
 sonal character. Much of it was owing to the poli- 
 tical circumstances to which the recent changes in the 
 succession to the throne gave birth. The Tudor dynasty 
 was an usurpation : its founder was an upstart, and 
 therefore regarded with a jealous eye by such of the 
 ancient and more wealthy nobility as had escaped the 
 slaughter of the wars of the Roses. Hence it was the 
 constant purpose alike congenial with the temper, and 
 suitable to the policy, of the princes of the house of 
 Tudor to restrain the ascendancy, and as much as 
 possible destroy the political influence, of the ancient 
 nobility. As might be expected from the sordid cal- 
 culating disposition of the first and ablest of these 
 princes, Henry VII. employed, as the chief means to 
 this end, fine and confiscation ; by which he at once 
 gratified his ruling passion of avarice, and impoverished 
 and intimidated those great families, of whose restless 
 ambition, hereditary affection to the house of York, or 
 jealousy of his usurped title, he was distrustful. The 
 more arrogant and impetuous, and therefore less cautious 
 and dissembling, temper of his son and successor, made 
 him hesitate less in shedding the blood of his highest 
 and most illustriously descended nobles ; and we find 
 that towards the close of his sanguinary reign his jealousy 
 of every great man became so ferocious, that not all the 
 services to the Tudor family of the house of Howard, 
 nor the ties of blood, nor the strong feelings of friend- 
 ship, could save the life of the high-minded earl of 
 Surrey, whose only crime was the possession of those 
 talents and virtues which have secured him the admir- 
 ation of posterity; and that nought but the timely death 
 of the tyrant himself snatched from the same scaffold
 
 CARDINAL WOLSET. 125 
 
 the father of that accomplished nobleman, the duke 
 of Norfolk, notwithstanding his long-tried loyalty, 
 numerous personal claims upon the gratitude of his 
 sovereign, and, what perhaps should have availed him 
 more, his ignominious servitude to that sovereign's will. 
 A natural result of this policy of depressing the nobles 
 was the placing the management of public affairs in the 
 hands of those who had no other recommendation to 
 the monarch's favour than their abilities and devoted 
 zeal in his service. To princes so greedy of absolute 
 power as those of the house of Tudor, and so conse 
 quently jealous of all who might prove obstacles to their 
 attainment of it, no ministers could be more agreeable 
 than those who were the mere creatures of their will, 
 and who, as such, would not for their own sakes enter- 
 tain any design not tending to promote the views of him 
 or her to whom they felt they were wholly indebted for 
 their political, and, as it might happen, even natural 
 existence. Previously to the era of the Reformation, 
 such ministers were usually furnished from the ranks of 
 the clergy, who held in their own hands the learning of 
 the times, and who were* themselves drawn, without 
 distinction of birth, from all classes of the community. 
 
 The church, as we before remarked, was in those days 
 what the bar is at present, the ladder by which the lowly 
 born might ascend to political eminence ; of which state 
 of things a more remarkable instance need not be quoted 
 than the fact of sir Thomas More's being distinguished 
 as the first layman who for centuries had filled the office 
 of chancellor. Hence the facilities to Wolsey's eleva- 
 tion, which show that his humble origin was by no 
 means a bar to his advancement. 
 
 It is not possible to furnish a consistent narrative of 
 Wolsey's life without touching upon those great political 
 events of the early part of the 1 6th century which more 
 properly belong to the historian. A rapid glance must, 
 however, suffice. 
 
 At the accession of Henry VIII. Italy was the centre 
 of ah 1 the wars and negotiations of the European princes ;
 
 ISO BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 and the great object of these wars and negotiations was 
 the preserving what was then, for the first time, clearly 
 understood the balance of power between the great 
 monarchies. Never did this balance seem better secured, 
 nor the general tranquillity more likely to be long main- 
 tained, than when Julius II., the most warlike and en- 
 terprising of the successors of St. Peter, united the kings 
 of Europe against the republic of Venice by the League 
 of Cambray. Having humbled that proud republic, the 
 ambitious pontiff next directed his energies to the nobler 
 design of freeing Italy from the yoke of the barbarians 
 the title by which all foreigners were then designated 
 by the Italians. 
 
 The expelling the French out of their new conquest 
 of Milan was the first object of his ambition ; and for 
 that purpose he solicited the military aid of England, by 
 sending Henry a sacred rose, perfumed with musk, with 
 a letter stating that it had been blessed by his own hands, 
 and anointed with holy oil ; and by holding out hopes 
 to him that the title of Most Christian King, considered 
 the most precious jewel in the crown of France, should 
 be the reward of his services. Julius obtained in Henry 
 a willing ally ; for he was then in the bright morning of 
 his youth, sanguine, inexperienced, sincere, chival- 
 rous, and inspired at the same time with an earnest zeal 
 to protect the pope against the " sacrilegious aggression " 
 of the king of France, and to assert his own claims upon 
 that kingdom ; and thus indulge the national enmity of 
 his subjects, and his own passion for military renown. 
 War having been duly declared against Louis, Henry, 
 surrounded by the martial portion of his subjects, who 
 were eager to display their valour on a foreign soil*, 
 and thus emulate the fame of their ancestors' continental 
 victories, and attended by Wolsey, as victualler of the 
 forces, set sail from Dover in June, 1512. The victory 
 
 * Machiavol remarks upon this invasion, that " though England had 
 had no wars for thirty years before, and had neither officers nor soldiers 
 who had ever seen a battle, they ventured to attack a kingdom where the 
 officers were excellent, and the soldiers very good, and who had been trained 
 up for several years together in the Italian wars," His. Liv. quoted by 
 Mr. Turner.
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 127 
 
 of Guingette, better known by the name of the " battle 
 of spurs," and the successful sieges of Terouenne and 
 Tournay, though of little utility to England, gratified 
 the warlike ardour of its monarch and his subjects, and 
 confirmed the idea entertained of his power by the con- 
 temporary princes of Europe. The first opportunity 
 that presented itself during the campaign of rewarding 
 his favourite was eagerly embraced by Henry. When 
 Tournay had surrendered to his arms, he found the 
 bishopric not entirely filled up. The bishop had lately 
 died ; a new one had been elected by the chapter, but 
 not installed. The king bestowed the administration of 
 the see on Wolsey, and put him in immediate possession 
 of its revenues. The new pastor immediately tendered, 
 on the part of his flock, an oath of allegiance to the king 
 of England. On his return to England, the see of Lin- 
 coln, just vacant by the death of bishop Smith, was 
 added to Wolsey's honours and revenues. 
 
 Wolsey's talents, as he rose in power, unfolded them- 
 selves in all their native splendour and versatility ; but 
 in a still greater degree did prosperity develope and 
 mature the vices of his character. Each step in his 
 ascent to power seemed but to swell his arrogance, while 
 each addition to his large revenues but made him more 
 rapacious. Scarcely was the ceremony of his consecra- 
 tion at Lincoln over than he laid hold of the goods be- 
 longing to his predecessor ; and Cavendish tells us, that 
 he has frequently seen, with shame, some of the stolen 
 furniture of the late bishop in the house of his master. 
 As might be supposed, such conduct, aggravated by his 
 haughty deportment, made him many enemies *; but their 
 
 * Erasmus speaks of him as "non passim comis aut facilis." In a letter 
 published in Fidde's Collection from a sir T. Allen, a priest to the earl of 
 Shrewsbury, we have a striking instance of his haughty insolence of de- 
 portment. " I delivered your letter with the examination to my lord car- 
 dinal at Guildford, when he commanded me to wait on him to the court. 
 I followed him to the court, and there gave attendance, and could have no 
 answer. Upon Friday last he came thence to Hampton Court, where he 
 lieth. The morrow after I besought his grace that I might know his 
 pleasure. T could have no answer. Upon Monday last, as he walked in 
 the park at Hampton, I besought his grace I might know if he would com- 
 mand me any service. He was not content with me that I spoke to him. The 
 Sunday before I delivered the letter which R. Leid brought. I can have no
 
 128 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 ill-will was construed either as envy of his sudden ele- 
 vation, or as an insolent reflection upon the discrimin- 
 ation of the king, and served, in either case, but to rivet 
 him faster in Henry's confidence. Wolsey himself was 
 too well acquainted with the king's temper, and, as we 
 have before observed, too artful, not to conceal the ab- 
 solute ascendant he had acquired ; and while he secretly 
 directed all public councils, he ever pretended a blind 
 submission to the will and authority of his sovereign. 
 In the same year that he was promoted to the see of 
 Lincoln, Bambridge, archbishop of York, died, and the 
 vacant see was at once made over to Wolsey. Nor was 
 he content with the honour of the archbishopric of York; 
 for, besides the rich see of Tournay, he farmed on his 
 own terms the bishoprics of Bath, Worcester, and He- 
 reford, filled by foreigners, who gladly compounded for 
 the indulgence of residing abroad, by yielding up a large 
 share of their English incomes. He held in commen- 
 dam the abbey of St. Albans and many other church 
 preferments, and was even allowed to unite with the 
 see of York, first, that of Durham, and next that of 
 Winchester. Even this is not the list of his new sources 
 of wealth and influence. Wolsey was promoted to the 
 archbishopric of York in October, 1514. In the en- 
 suing September he was, with a view to purchasing his 
 influence with the king, created a cardinal by pope 
 Leo X. ; and in three months after, upon the resignation 
 of archbishop Norham, made lord high chancellor of 
 England. " In fact," says the historian, " there seemed 
 to be no end to his acquisitions." Neither was his influ- 
 ence nor were his revenues, great as they were, confined 
 to these numerous and munificent proofs of the favour of 
 his sovereign. He was courted with incredible attention 
 and obsequiousness by the great monarchs of Europe 
 
 answer to neither of the letters; so that who shall be suitor to him may have 
 no business but to attend upon his pleasure. He that shall do so has need- 
 ful to be a wiser man than I am. 1 had rather your lordship commanded 
 me to Home than deliver him letters and bring answer to the same. When 
 he walks in the park, he will suffer no servant to come nigh unto him, but 
 commands them away as far as one may well shoot an arrow." Fiddes' 
 Lord Herbert's Life of Henry nil.
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 129 
 
 who sought the friendship and alliance of the court of 
 England.* The youthful,, enterprising, and chivalrous 
 Francis I., and his great rival the emperor Charles V., 
 vied with each other by bribes and flattery to work upon 
 his growing avarice and ambition. The former em- 
 ployed Bonnivet, the most skilful of his courtiers, to 
 win him over to his interest; and, besides settling on him 
 a yearly pension of 12,000 livres, laboured with inces- 
 sant assiduity to secure his friendship by every mark of 
 respect and confidence, and by every possible expression 
 of regard, bestowing on him, in all his letters, the ho- 
 nourable appellations of father, tutor, and governor. 
 Charles, on the other hand, soon after his accession to 
 the throne of Castile, sought to ingratiate himself with 
 Wolsey, by settling on him a pension of 3000 livres; to 
 which he added 7000 ducats more on his visit to Eng- 
 land, for the purpose of detaching his " good friend " 
 and his " most dear friend" (as he designated the car- 
 dinal) from the interests of Francis. 
 
 Great as was the revenue which Wolsey derived from 
 these exorbitant acquisitions, it did not keep pace with 
 the magnificence of his household, and the ostentatious 
 state and pomp with which, under colour of exacting 
 respect to religion and the legal tribunals, he supported 
 his dignity as cardinal and lord chancellor. His do- 
 mestic establishments were on a royal scale, his train 
 consisting of not less than 500 servants t, of whom many, 
 according to the usage of the times, were knights and 
 gentlemen, and sons of noblemen. Three great tables 
 were daily laid out in the cardinal's hall for this nu- 
 
 * Even the doge of Venice addressed him as an integral portion of the 
 royal power. See Fiddes. And Bellay speaks as an eye-witness, when he 
 tells us that " in all things the cardinal was honoured like the king's per- 
 son, and sat always at his right hand. In all places where the king's arms 
 were put the cardinal's had the same rank, so that in every honour they were 
 equal." Mem. v. IS. p. 42. quoted by Turner. But it was reserved for the 
 university of Oxford to outstrip all precedent in its base obsequiousness, 
 by repeatedly addressing Wolsey as " your majesty : " " Consultissma tua 
 majestas ; reuerenrtissema majestas; inaudita majestatis tuee benignitas ; 
 vestra ilia sublimis et longe reverendissima majestas." 
 
 f Lord Burghley, in a state paper to queen Elizabeth about favourites, 
 says of Wolsey, that he had a family equal to that of a great prince. There 
 were in it, he says, one earl, nine barons, and about a thousand knights. 
 Burnet gives the same number; but we follow Cavendish in the text. 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 merous retinue, each presided over by a dignitary bear- 
 ing a white staff of office. Conformably with the custom 
 of the age, many of the nobility placed their children in 
 his family as a place of education ; and, for the purpose 
 of winning his favour, allowed them to act as his ser- 
 vants. They boarded, however, at a separate table, 
 thence called the " mess of lords," and had numerous 
 menials to attend them ; the earl of Derby and lord 
 Henry Percy (the lover of Anne Boleyn) having five 
 each, and the other young noble inmates not less than 
 two. The kitchen of the cardinal was on the same mag- 
 nificent scale, being ruled over by a master cook, " who 
 went about daily in garments of damask satin, wearing 
 a chain of gold round his neck," as an emblem of his 
 authority and importance. There was a regular master 
 of the horse presiding over the stable department, with 
 a suitable revenue of yeomen, grooms, sumpter-men, 
 muleteers, saddlers, and farriers. The barges, gardens, 
 larder, scalding-house, wafery, bakehouse, scullery, but- 
 tery, pantry, ewery, chandlery, cellar, laundry, and 
 wardrobe of beds, had each their distinct grooms, yeo- 
 men, and pages, in suitable numbers. The personal ser- 
 vants of the cardinal amounted to forty-six, and formed, 
 with his chaplains and attendants upon the ceremony of 
 the mass, a body of not less than 143 persons. His 
 procession in public was still more imposing, and more 
 indicative of that love of the externals, and parade of 
 the trappings of dignity, " the tailor's heraldry," as it 
 has been quaintly characterised, remarkable in men of 
 lowly origin. It would appear to have been his aim to 
 dazzle the eyes of the populace by the gorgeous lustre of 
 his garments, and the splendid costly embroidery of his 
 equipage and liveries, and thereby reconcile them to his 
 newly acquired but unlimited authority. He was the 
 first clergyman in England that wore silk and gold, not 
 only on his habit, but also on his saddles and the trap- 
 pings of his horses. A priest, the tallest and most comely 
 he could find, carried before him a pillar of silver, on 
 whose top was placed a cross: but not satisfied with this
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 131 
 
 parade, to which he thought himself entitled as cardinal, 
 he provided another priest of equal stature and beauty, 
 who marched along, bearing the cross of York * even 
 in the diocese of Canterbury.t It is in allusion to this 
 circumstance that Cavendish, in his metrical piece of 
 autobiography, makes Wolsey say : 
 
 " My crossis twayne of silver, long and greate, 
 That dayly before me were carried hyghe, 
 Upon gre.it horses, opynly in the streett ; 
 And massie pillers gloryouse to the eye, 
 With pollaxes gylt, that no man durst come nyghe 
 My presence, I was so pryncely to behold ; 
 Ridyng on my mule trapped in silver and in golde." 
 
 The ceremony of " high mass," so imposingly mag- 
 nificent at this day in catholic countries, was performed 
 by AV^olsey in a style of splendour which astonished even 
 in that age of pomp and ceremony. His attendants were 
 bishops and abbots ; and such was his haughtiness, that, 
 says Hall, " he made dukes and earls to serve him with 
 wine, and to hold the bason and the lavatories," offices 
 which catholic superstition rendered honourable, if not 
 sacred. 
 
 His daily procession to the court of chancery was 
 equally ostentatious, and jarring with our modern notions 
 of the deportment becoming a judge and a clergyman. 
 The reader, accustomed to the plain attire and dignified 
 simplicity of bearing of our Eldons and Broughams and 
 Tenterdens, as they wend their way, generally on foot, 
 to Westminster Hall, and unattended, will be amused 
 by the contrast afforded by Wolsey's love of pageantry. 
 We shall quote the narrative of Cavendish, for its minute 
 and graphic fidelity: 
 
 " Now will I declare unto you his order in going to 
 Westminster Hall, daily, in the term season. First, be- 
 
 The people, in that spirit which so much accelerated the Reformation, 
 on this occasion made merry with the cardinal's ostentation ; saying, they 
 were now sensible that not less than two crucifixes would be sufficient for 
 the expiation of his sins and offences. 
 
 f Mr. Hume and others err in supposing that Wolsey's taking precedency 
 of the archbishop of Canterbury was an usurpation dictated by bis arro- 
 gance. As cardinal, he had the right of usage to precede him ; the point 
 having been mooted in the case of a cardinal Kemp, also archbishop of 
 York, preceding the then archbishop of Canterbury, and decided by the 
 pope in favour of the cardinal.
 
 132 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 fore his coming out of his privy chamber, he heard most 
 commonly every day two masses in his privy closet ; 
 and there then said his daily service with his chaplain : 
 and as I heard his chaplain say, being a man of cre- 
 dence and of excellent learning, that the cardinal, what 
 business or weighty matters soever he had in the day, he 
 never went to his bed with any part of his divine service 
 unsaid, yea, not so much as one collect; wherein I doubt 
 not but he deceived the opinion of divers persons. And 
 after mass he would return in his privy chamber again, 
 and being advertised of the furniture of his chambers 
 without, with noblemen, gentlemen, and other persons, 
 would issue out into them, appareled all in red, in the 
 habit of a cardinal ; which was either of fine scarlet, or 
 else of crimson satin, taffety, damask, or caffa, the best 
 that he could get for money ; and upon his head a round 
 pillion, with a noble of black velvet set to the same in 
 the inner side ; he had also a tippet of fine sables about 
 his neck ; holding in his hand a very fair orange, whereof 
 the meat or substance within was taken out, and filled 
 up again with the part of a sponge, wherein was vinegar, 
 and other confections against the pestilent airs ; the 
 which he most commonly smelt unto, passing among the 
 press, or else when he was pestered with many suitors. 
 There was also borne before him, first, the great seal of 
 England, and then his cardinal's hat, by a nobleman or 
 some worthy gentleman, right solemnly, bareheaded. 
 And as soon as he was entered into his chamber of pre- 
 sence, where there was attending his coming to await 
 upon him to Westminster Hall, as well noblemen and 
 other worthy gentlemen, as noblemen and gentlemen of 
 his own family ; thus passing forth with two great crosses 
 of silver borne before him ; with also two great pillars 
 of silver, and his pursuivant at arms with a great mace 
 of silver gilt. Then his gentlemen ushers cried, and 
 said, " On, my lords and masters, on before ; make way 
 for my lord's grace !" Thus passed he down from his 
 chamber through the hall ; and when he came to the hall 
 door, there was attendant for him his mule, trapped all
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 133 
 
 together in crimson velvet, and gilt stirrups. When he 
 was mounted, with his cross bearers, and pillar bearers, 
 also upon great horses trapped with [fine] scarlet. Then 
 marched he forward, with his train and furniture in 
 manner as I have declared, having about him four foot- 
 men, with gilt pollaxes in their hands ; and thus he went 
 until he came to Westminster Hall door. And there 
 alighted, and went after this manner, up through the 
 hall into the chancery ; howbeit he would most com- 
 monly stay awhile at a bar, made for him, a little beneath 
 the chancery [on the right hand], and there commune 
 some time with the judges, and some time with other 
 persons. And that done he would repair into the chan- 
 cery, sitting there till eleven of the clock, hearing suitors, 
 and determining of divers matters. And from thence he 
 would divers times go into the star-chamber, as occasion 
 did serve ; where he spared neither high nor low, but 
 judged every estate according to their merits and deserts." 
 
 Cavendish, whose style warms when he has a pageant 
 to describe, next proceeds to give us an account of the 
 mode in which the " king's majesty" was wont to amuse 
 himself at the mansion of the cardinal. The passage is 
 curiously illustrative of the chivalrous manner of the 
 monarch and the age: 
 
 " And when it pleased the king's majesty, for his re- 
 creation, to repair unto the cardinal's house, as he did 
 divers times in the year, at which time there wanted no 
 preparations, or goodly furniture, with viands of the finest 
 sort that might be provided for money or friendship. 
 Such pleasures were then devised for the king's comfort 
 and consolation, as might be invented, or by man's wit 
 imagined. The banquets were set forth, with masks 
 and mummeries, in so gorgeous a sort, and costly man- 
 ner, that it was a heaven to behold. There wanted no 
 dames, or damsels, meet or apt to dance with the mask- 
 ers, or to garnish the place for the time, with other goodly 
 disports. Then was there all kind of music and har- 
 mony set forth, with excellent voices both of men and 
 children. I have seen the king suddenly come in thither 
 K 3
 
 134 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 in a mask, with a dozen of other maskers, all in garments 
 like shepherds, made of fine cloth of gold and fine crim- 
 son satin paned, and caps of the same, with visors of 
 good proportion of visnomy ; their hairs, and beards, 
 either of fine gold wire, or else of silver, and some being 
 of black silk ; having sixteen torch bearers, besides their 
 drums, and other persons attending upon them, with 
 visors, and clothed all in satin, of the same colours. Atid 
 at his coming, and before he came into the hall, ye shall 
 understand, that he came by water to the water gate, 
 without any noise ; where, against his coming, were laid 
 charged many chambers, and at his landing they were 
 all shot off, which made such a rumble in the air that it 
 was like thunder. It made all the noblemen, ladies, and 
 gentlewomen to muse what it should mean coming so 
 suddenly, they sitting quietly at a solemn banquet ; un- 
 der this sort : First, ye shall perceive that the tables 
 were set in the chamber of presence, banquet-wise co- 
 vered, my lord cardinal sitting under the cloth of estate, 
 and there having his service all alone; and then was 
 there set a lady and a nobleman, or a gentleman and 
 gentlewoman, throughout all the tables in the chamber 
 on the one side, which were made and joined as it were 
 but one table. All which order and device was done 
 and devised by the lord Sands, lord chamberlain to the 
 king ; and also by sir Henry Guilford, comptroller to 
 the king. Then immediately after this great shot of 
 guns, the cardinal desired the lord chamberlain, and 
 comptroller, to look what this sudden shot should mean, 
 as though he knew nothing of the matter. They there- 
 upon looking out of the windows into Thames, returned 
 again, and showed him, that it seemed to them there 
 should be some noblemen and strangers arrived at his 
 bridge, as ambassadors from some foreign prince. With 
 that, quoth the cardinal, ' I shall desire you, because ye 
 can speak French, to take the pains to go down into the 
 hall to encounter and to receive them, according to their 
 estates, and to conduct them into this chamber, where 
 they shall see us, and all these noble personages sitting
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 135 
 
 merrily at our banquet, desiring them to sit down with 
 us, and to take part of our fare and pastime.' Then 
 [they] went incontinent down into the hall, where they 
 received them with twenty new torches, and conveyed 
 them up into the chamber, with such a number of drums 
 and fifes as I have seldom seen together at one time in 
 any masque. At their arrival into the chamber, two and 
 two together, they went directly before the cardinal 
 where he sat, saluting him very reverently ; to whom 
 the lord chamberlain for them said, ' Sir, for as much 
 as they be strangers, and can speak no English, they have 
 desired me to declare unto your grace thus : they, having 
 understanding of this your triumphant banquet, where 
 was assembled such a number of excellent fair dames, 
 could do no less, under the supportation of your good 
 grace, but to repair hither to view as well their incom- 
 parable beauty, as for to accompany them at mumchance, 
 and then after to dance with them, and so to have of 
 them acquaintance. And, sir, they furthermore require 
 of your grace licence to accomplish the cause of their 
 repair.' To whom the cardinal answered, that he was 
 very weh 1 contented they should so do. Then the maskers 
 went first and saluted all the dames as they sat, and then 
 returned to the most worthiest, and there opened a cup 
 full of gold, with crowns, and other pieces of coin, to 
 whom they set divers pieces to cast at. Thus in this 
 manner perusing all the ladies and gentlewomen, and to 
 some they lost, and of some they won. And thus done, 
 they returned unto the cardinal, with great reverence, 
 pouring down all the 'crowns in the cup, which was 
 about two hundred crowns. ' At all,' quoth the car- 
 dinal, and so cast the dice, and won them all at a cast ; 
 whereat was great joy made. Then quoth the cardinal 
 to my lord chamberlain, ' I pray you/ quoth he, ' show 
 them that it seemeth me that there should be among 
 them some noble man,, whom I suppose to be much 
 more worthy of honour to sit and occupy this room and 
 place than I ; to whom I would most gladly, if I knew 
 him, surrender my place according to my duty.' Then 
 K 4
 
 136 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 spake my lord chamberlain unto them in French, de- 
 claring my lord cardinal's mind, and they rounding him 
 again in the ear, my lord chamberlain said to my lord 
 cardinal, ' Sir, they confess,' quoth he, ' that among 
 them there is such a noble personage, whom, if your 
 grace can appoint him from the other, he is contented 
 to disclose himself, and to accept your place most 
 worthily.' With that the cardinal, taking a good ad- 
 visement among them, at the last, quoth he, ' Me 
 seemeth the gentleman with the black beard should be 
 even he.' And with that he arose out of his chair, and 
 offered the same to the gentleman in the black beard, 
 with his cap in his hand. The person to whom he 
 offered then his chair was sir Edward Neville, a comely 
 knight of a goodly personage, that much more resembled 
 the king's person in that mask than any other. The 
 king, hearing and perceiving the cardinal so deceived in 
 his estimation and choice, could not forbear laughing ; 
 but plucked down his visor, and master Neville's also, 
 and dashed out with such a pleasant countenance and 
 cheer, that all noble estates there assembled, seeing the 
 king to be there amongst them, rejoiced very much. 
 The cardinal eftsoons desired his highness to take the 
 place of estate, to whom the king answered, that he 
 would go first and shift his apparel ; and so departed, 
 and went straight into my lord's bedchamber, where 
 was a great fire made and prepared for him ; and there 
 new apparelled him with rich and princely garments. 
 And in the time of the king's absence, the dishes of the 
 banquet were clean taken up, and the tables spread 
 again with new and sweet perfumed cloths ; every man 
 sitting still until the king and his maskers came in 
 among them again, every man being newly apparelled. 
 Then the king took his seat under the cloth of estate, 
 commanding no man to remove, but sit still as they did 
 before. Then in came a new banquet before the king's 
 majesty, and to all the rest through the tables, wherein, 
 I suppose, were served two hundred dishes or above, of 
 wondrous costly meats and devices, subtilly devised.
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 337 
 
 Thus passed they forth the whole night with banqueting, 
 dancing, and other triumphant devices, to the great 
 comfort of the king, and pleasant regard of the nobility 
 there assembled." 
 
 In 15 16, Leo X. despatched cardinal Campeggio to 
 England, as his legate, for the purpose of procuring a 
 tithe from the clergy to the prosecuting the war against 
 the Turks, the great enemy of the Christian name. The 
 pride of Wolsey took alarm at this appointment : he 
 could brook no brother near the throne. As representative 
 of the pope, the legate was armed with almost absolute 
 authority over the clergy in the country of his mission. 
 The idea that any one invested with greater ecclesiastical 
 power than himself should openly exercise that power in 
 England, was therefore equally offensive to Wolsey's 
 pride and vanity; and accordingly, through his means, 
 Campeggio was delayed on his route in Paris, till the 
 pope had also formally invested himself with the legatine 
 authority. Having obtained this new dignity, Wolsey 
 made an extraordinary display of the state and parade 
 to which he was so much addicted. He affected a rank 
 superior to any ever claimed by a churchman in England, 
 not excepting the haughty Thomas a Becket ; and cele- 
 brated mass after the manner of the pope as sovereign 
 pontiff. Warham, the archbishop of Canterbury, having 
 at this time written him a letter in which he subscribed 
 himself, in the usual phraseology of clergymen, " your 
 loving brother," Wolsey complained of his presumption 
 in thus challenging an equality with " the lord cardinal 
 legate." * Warham, when informed of the offence which 
 he had thus unintentionally given, made light of the mat- 
 ter, and said, " Know ye not that this man is drunk 
 with too much prosperity ? " 
 
 But the humble deportment, plain habits, and narrow 
 income of the Italian cardinal ill suited with the pomp 
 and parade which his colleague considered essential to 
 
 * The importance which Wolsey attached to his office of legate is evi- 
 dent from what he says to Cavendish on his fall: " My authority arid 
 dignity legatine is gone, wherein consisted all my high honour."
 
 138 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 the dignity of the legatine office. Wolsey therefore 
 despatched a quantity of scarlet cloth, richly embroid- 
 ered, of which Campeggio's attendants are] represented 
 to have stood in great need, for the purpose of enabling 
 them to make a showy appearance. He also sent twelve 
 mules with baggage, to swell the Italian cardinal's train. 
 An accident which occurred on this occasion throws cu- 
 rious, indeed ludicrous, light upon Wolsey's vanity. The 
 chests of which the baggage was composed were sup- 
 posed to contain the jewellery, plate, and costly gar- 
 ments of the Italian legate ; but, unhappily for the 
 credit of Campeggio, one of the mules fell, and the 
 coffer which it carried being burst open by the fall, old 
 habiliments, and pieces of broken bread and meat, put 
 into the chest as ballast, were exposed to the laughter 
 of the spectators. It is not improbable that prudence 
 induced Wolsey to thus shun the reflections which the 
 contrast of his own ostentatious magnificence with his 
 colleague's plainness of appearance must naturally have 
 given birth to ; though it is much more in keeping 
 with his temper fond of pomp, and too arrogant 
 to be calculating to ascribe the transaction Avholly 
 to the workings of vanity.* Such conduct strangely 
 contrasts with the vigour and intellect evinced in his able 
 administration of affairs both at home and abroad ; but 
 is by no means inconsistent with what we know of the 
 workings of human nature, as they manifest themselves 
 even in the strongest minds. If not generated, it was 
 much fostered by the genius of the catholic worship 
 so imposing from its numerous ceremonies, magnificent 
 processions, and rigid enforcement of respect to rank. 
 
 * This would appear the more probable from the ludicrous anxiety dis- 
 played by Wolsey in the escorting of his cardinal's hat to England. He 
 seems to have had lofty notions of the dignity of this " hat," and was 
 chagrined by the pope's having forwarded it to him " in a varlet's budget." 
 The " varlet " was, therefore, detained in France till his appearance was, 
 at the cardinal's expense, made more worthy of the treasure of which he 
 was the ignoble guardian. On its landing, " the hat " was met by a great 
 procession at Blackheath, and conducted in solemn triumph to Westminster 
 Abbey. When it had reached the abbey, it " was placed in state on a 
 table, with tapers round it, before an empty suit, and the greatest duke of 
 the land was compelled to make a curtesy toil." Tyndal, quoted by 
 Wordsworth, Eccl. Biog. The hat appears to have acted a very distin- 
 guished part in all the cardinal's processions and state exhibitions, and con- 
 ducted itself, we presume, with becoming dignity and discretion.
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 139 
 
 One effect of it, however, was, to render Wolsey an 
 object of odium to the nation at large, and to lessen his 
 master in the eyes of all Europe. 
 
 Wolsey had now attained a height of grandeur, power*, 
 and wealth, far beyond that ever before or since reached 
 by an English subject; and it might be supposed, would 
 confine his future exertions to retaining himself securely 
 in his lofty station. But ambition, like the air we breathe, 
 expands as we ascend above the ordinary level of hu- 
 manity, and continues, at a rapidly increasing ratio, to 
 enlarge its dimensions, till its victim reaches a region 
 a moral Mont Blanc cold, barren, and cut off from 
 human sympathies, where he perishes heart-frozen, and 
 unmourned of his fellows. So it was with Wolsey. 
 There was one, and but one step higher, which he pos- 
 sibly could reach, and to it were all his thoughts and 
 aspirations henceforth directed with a feverish and con- 
 centrated energy. A change now comes over the spirit 
 of the "foreign relations" of England. From this period 
 till the death of Wolsey, their history is but the narrative 
 of the schemes and struggles tortuous, wily, and 
 double dealing for the chair of St. Peter of an aspiring 
 mind, which, unsatisfied with the absolute rule of a 
 great empire, felt all it had achieved valueless while 
 there was one station of still more extensive authority 
 filled by another. 
 
 Francis I. had offended Wolsey by his tardiness in 
 
 * " Erasmus observes (Ep. 1151.), that Wolsey ' visibly reigned more truly 
 than the king." He was uniformly addressed by foreign powers as a sort 
 of co-monarch. Thus Dr. Taylor writes, that Francis would not perform 
 any part of the treaty of Madrid without ' the king and cardinal's advice ;' 
 and that the papal and Venetian ambassadors told him, ' they had letters 
 from the pope to give thanks to the king and cardinal for furthering the 
 holy league.' His own language, indeed, implied the co-equal power; 
 hence the well-known phrase, one of the charges against him on his fall, 
 ' the king and I.' Thus writing, in 1524, to Pace and others, Wolsey says, 
 ' His highness and I give unto you hearty thanks." ' Neither the king's 
 highness nor I will advise him.' ' Much it is to the king's and my comfort.' 
 ' The king's highness and I abide daily knowledge." ' Arrived here the 
 archbishop of Capua, whom the king's highness and I like." ' The king's 
 highness and I be always of the same mind that the emperor is.' ' The 
 king's highness and I gave my own lodging and chambers to him." " Tur- 
 ner, from MS. Letters in the British Museum. 
 
 We take leave once for all to state here, that our quotations from letters 
 to and from Wolsey are, unless otherwise specified, taken from the original 
 MS. in the British Museum.
 
 140 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 silencing a claimant upon the revenues of the see of Tour- 
 nay, who for some time had been troublesome to the car- 
 dinal; and well knew that, till he had regained his favour, 
 he could have no hope of the alliance of England in his 
 wars with the emperor. His ambassador, accordingly, was 
 desired to express his master's deep regret, that, by mis- 
 takes and misapprehensions, he had been so unfortunate 
 as to lose the friendship of one whom he so valued as 
 the cardinal ; and that nothing could afford him more 
 unfeigned pleasure than to convince his eminence of the 
 respect and admiration which he entertained for him 
 Francis confirmed the favourable impression which these 
 advances made, by consulting Wolsey on his most secret 
 and difficult affairs, and receiving his opinions with im- 
 plicit deference as those of an oracle of wisdom. By 
 thus paying flattering homage to Wolsey's vanity, and 
 by the grant of the large pension of which we have 
 already made mention, Henry was persuaded to yield 
 Tournay to France, to conclude a treaty of marriage 
 between his daughter Mary and the dauphin; that city, 
 for the sake of appearance, being laid down as part of 
 the princess's dowry. We have the assertion of one 
 (Polydore Virgil) who was malevolently disposed towards 
 Wolsey, and whose evidence therefore should be received 
 with suspicion, that Wolsey moreover negotiated with the 
 French king for the delivery of Calais ; but was dis- 
 suaded, by the general unpopularity of the proposition, 
 from bringing it formally before the council. 
 
 Through the influence of Wolsey, Henry consented to 
 an interview with the French monarch, who trusted to an 
 address, the fascination of which was owned by all that 
 approached him, to win the friendship and confidence of 
 his English " dear brother." The particulars of this 
 celebrated interview at the field of the cloth of gold, 
 
 " VVhei^ those suns of glory, those two lights of men, 
 Met in the vale of Ardres," 
 
 are too well known to be now recapitulated. It was 
 sought with avidity by the two youthful, handsome, and 
 chivalrous princes, as an occasion of displaying their
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 141 
 
 < 
 
 magnificence and knightly accomplishments; and by the 
 cardinal as one for exhibiting, in the presence of two 
 courts, his riches, splendour, and unbounded influence 
 over both monarchs. So far as Francis was concerned, 
 Wolsey had no other immediate design in this display 
 of his influence than its publicity; his friendly offices 
 had been secretly anticipated by the French king's great 
 rival, the emperor Charles ; so that the impression which 
 Francis's winning manners, and the generous confidence 
 with which he treated Henry, and the congeniality of 
 their dispositions, must have made on the English mon- 
 arch, was soon effaced by the treacherous artifices of 
 his favourite. To explain this deceitful conduct, it 
 should be premised, that of the two great factions or 
 influences in the college of cardinals, the French and 
 the imperial, the latter was much the preponderating ; 
 and it had been promised to Wolsey (Francis had before 
 assured him of his) in the interval between the appoint- 
 ment and the holding of the interview at Ardres. When 
 Charles found that he could not prevent the meeting of 
 the two monarchs, he applied himself, with his usual 
 finesse, to counteracting its probable effects ; and, by 
 a master-stroke of policy, secured Wolsey's friendship, 
 by placing him in immediate possession of the revenues 
 of the sees of Badajos and Placentia in Castile, and pro- 
 mising him his most zealous aid in procuring the papal 
 dignity. Henry was at Canterbury, on his way to 
 France, when the emperor, to the surprise of every body 
 in the nation (except Wolsey, who had secretly planned 
 the visit), landed at Dover ; and in the short space of 
 four days had the address to make Henry believe fa- 
 vourably of his character and intentions, and promise 
 to visit him in the Low Countries, after he had taken 
 leave of the French king. 
 
 War, as had been anticipated, was soon declared be- 
 tween Francis and the emperor, and both parties earnestly 
 courted the alliance of England. Henry at first affected 
 the office of mediator ; but, entirely estranged from the 
 interests of France by the artifices of Wolsey, who, bent
 
 142 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 on the triple crown, was ready to sacrifice every con- 
 sideration to ensure the imperial influence in the next 
 conclave, he took advantage of the first pretext to join 
 his arms to those of the emperor. The war which was 
 now waged against France with more steadiness than the 
 other foreign wars of Henry, but with as little regard to 
 his own and his people's interests, only terminated with 
 the captivity of Francis at the memorable battle of Pavia. 
 It ended as it had begun, in subserviency to the cardinal's 
 passions and ambition of the popedom, which were the 
 sole actuating principle, as far as he was concerned, of 
 the subsequent alliance with France, and declaration of 
 hostilities against Charles. 
 
 The first trial of the sincerity of the emperor's friend- 
 ship took place in 1522, on the election of a successor 
 to Leo X., who died, in the vigour of his age, in the 
 preceding December. It is not easy to determine the 
 degree of the faithlessness of Charles's promises to Wol- 
 sey of his zealous influence in the conclave in his favour. 
 The result, and our knowledge of Charles's skill in the 
 art of dissimulation, and readiness to employ the most 
 immoral means to the attainment of his end, would in- 
 duce us to believe that his promises were given without 
 the remotest intention of fulfilling them ; while the fact 
 of Wolsey's having received twenty votes in his favour 
 (twenty-six would have sufficed) would go far to show 
 that the emperor's letter* to his ambassador at Rome, 
 enjoining him to urge the cardinals to elect Wolsey to 
 the papal chair, was not written in a spirit of entire 
 faithlessness. Be this, however, as it may, after a 
 struggle of unusual duration, the imperial influence in 
 the conclave prevailed, and cardinal Adrian, the em- 
 peror's tutor, was raised to the popedom under the title 
 of Adrian VI. 
 
 The resentment which the pride of Wolsey, mortified 
 by this disappointment of his hopes, was likely to en- 
 
 * This letter, written in Latin, is still preserved in the British Museum, 
 (MS. VitelL book iv. p. 222.) as well as another to Wolsey, also from the 
 emperor, apprising him of its contents, written in French, from Ghent 
 M& Galba, b. vii. p. 160.
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 143 
 
 gender was dreaded by Charles, who knew full well that 
 his alliance with England depended wholly on his stand- 
 ing well in the good graces of its haughty minister. 
 To preven^ therefore, the loss of so powerful an ally, 
 he visited England for the second time, shortly after 
 Adrian had been elected, and, after augmenting his pen- 
 sion, renewed his promise of aiding the cardinal's pre- 
 tensions to the popedom at the next vacancy ; an event 
 which, from Adrian's extreme age and infirmities, both 
 knew could not be far distant. Wolsey thought it pru- 
 dent to stifle his resentment, and endeavour, by new 
 services, to ensure the imperial interest in the next con- 
 clave. Pope Adrian died in about a year and a half after 
 his election, and Wolsey again entered the lists with 
 his characteristic zeal and increased hopes of success. At 
 his request, Henry wrote to the emperor, reminding 
 him of his promises, and urging him to fulfil them as 
 he valued his friendship ; the English ambassadors and 
 agents at Rome being at the same time instructed to 
 spare, among the members of the sacred college, neither 
 bribes nor promises. But Charles again deceived him ; 
 and cardinal de' Medici, with the support of the impe- 
 rial party, was elected pope, under the title of Clement VI I. 
 From that hour his study was how he could revenge 
 himself on the emperor : a close alliance was soon after 
 entered into with France *, and war declared by Eng- 
 land against her recent imperial ally. 
 
 While Wolsey was thus pursuing his ambitious 
 schemes for the attainment of the papal dignity, and 
 moved kings and nations like so many chess pawns in 
 hostility against each other, according to his views of his 
 own personal aggrandisement, his administration at 
 home was conducted with great firmness and ability, 
 but with an arbitrariness alien from the genius of the con- 
 stitution. The continental wars and alliances in which 
 Henry was more constantly involved than any of his 
 immediate predecessors, joined with his own lavish habits 
 
 * On this occasion Wolsey received a bribe of 100,000 crowns from Fran- 
 cis, under the pretence of arrears due on the Tournay pension.
 
 144 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 of expenditure, rendered his demands upon his subjects' 
 money oppressively urgent and frequent ; the immense 
 treasure left him by his father being so rapidly dissipated 
 that he had recourse to his parliament for assistance in 
 the very first year of his reign. We have already men- 
 tioned the trying circumstances in which Wolsey's arro- 
 gance induced him to take upon himself the difficult 
 duties of lord treasurer on the resignation of the duke 
 of Norfolk, who too well knew, as the cardinal soon 
 experienced, that oppressive taxation was the only griev- 
 ance which the people of England, during the reign of 
 the first two Tudors, complained of and openly resisted. 
 So extremely tenacious were they of their money, that 
 the same people who saw arbitrary outrages on their 
 national privileges pass without remonstrance, and who 
 saw innocent men of all ranks led to the scaffold without 
 a murmur, actually broke out twice in rebellion against 
 the king's commissioners for levying loans and benevo- 
 lences. 
 
 Wolsey, nothing daunted by this temper of the public 
 mind, proceeded to raise money by loans, impositions, 
 benevolences, and every other form of exaction. His 
 first act was one of great prudence : he applied him- 
 self to the ascertaining the capability of the people to 
 bear taxation, and for this purpose caused a general 
 survey to be made of the whole kingdom ; or, to speak in 
 modern parliamentary language, he caused returns of the 
 number of men, their ages, profession, capital, revenue, 
 and clear income in England and Wales, to be minutely 
 and accurately made out. These returns afforded a 
 very cheering picture of the opulence of the kingdom, 
 and induced him to issue privy seals, demanding parti- 
 cular sums, by way of " loans" (a mode of taxation, 
 though irregular and despotic, not without precedent) 
 from the more wealthy. The success of this measure 
 misled Henry in the next year, 1523, to publish an edict 
 for a general tax, also called a " loan," from his subjects, 
 by which he levied five shillings in the pound from the 
 clergy, and two shillings from the laity. A parliament
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 145 
 
 and a convocation were summoned soon after in 1524. 
 With the hope of inducing the commons to imitate the 
 example of the clergy, Wolsey first addressed himself to 
 the convocation, over whom his legatine authority had 
 made him irresistible, and demanded the entire half of 
 the ecclesiastical revenues to be levied in five years, at 
 the rate of two shillings in the pound during that time. 
 There was an appearance of opposition ; but he promptly 
 overawed it, haughtily reprimanding the refractory mem- 
 bers, and descanting on the general wealth and luxury of 
 the clergy and of the nation at large, " as though he had 
 repined," says the Chronicler, " or disclaimed that any 
 man should fare well or be well clothed but himself." 
 
 Elated by his success in the convocation, Wolsey came 
 down to the commons, and in the same imperious tone 
 demanded 800,OOOJ. (equal, all things considered, to 
 from seven to eight millions of our present coin) to be 
 raised in four years by a tax of one fifth (four shillings 
 in the pound) on the lands and goods of the kingdom. 
 The tax was in amount beyond all precedent, being 
 alleged to exceed the entire current coin of the realm, 
 and met with such successful resistance, that a committee 
 was sent to remonstrate with the cardinal, and to beg 
 him to reduce his demand one half. Wolsey rudely 
 dismissed the committee, and came down to intimidate 
 the house into granting the original sum. The circum- 
 stances of his reception by sir Thomas More, then speaker, 
 have been narrated elsewhere in this volume by a master 
 pen, and have been justly commented upon as a remark- 
 able instance of the spirit of freedom which, under abject 
 language, lurked in the minds of the commons of Eng- 
 land. The house presented an unusual scene in those 
 arbitrary times ; for, though composed chiefly of the 
 courtiers and officers of the crown, the matter was de- 
 bated, " and beaten for fifteen or sixteen days together," 
 and " was the greatest and sorest hold in the lower 
 house that ever was seen." * About three fourths of 
 the original demand was ultimately voted, to be paid "by 
 
 * Ellis's Letters illustrative of English History. 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 
 
 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 instalments in four years : but Wolsey, greatly dissa- 
 tisfied and displeased with this imperfect obedience, 
 compelled the people to pay up the whole subsidy at 
 once, and did not summon a parliament for seven years 
 after. 
 
 Even these exorbitant demands and levies did not 
 satisfy the rapacity which the profuse magnificence of 
 the monarch and the ambition of his minister generated. 
 The very next year (1525) after this affair with the com- 
 mons, commissioners were appointed to demand the one 
 sixth part of every man's substance, payable in money, 
 plate, or jewels, according to the valuation of property 
 taken in 1522. This was the most audacious attempt 
 that had been made since the reign of Edward III. to 
 levy a general imposition without consent of parliament, 
 and, if successful, would necessarily destroy the free cha- 
 racter of the English constitution ; for, if taxes could be 
 raised by the simple edict of the executive, the great use 
 and privilege of the representative branch of the govern- 
 ment would necessarily be dispensed with, and parlia- 
 ment only required to give a legislative sanction to the 
 other encroachments of a despotic king or minister on 
 the rights of the people. " But the courage and love of 
 freedom natural to the English commons," says an able 
 modern writer *, " speaking in the hoarse voice of tu- 
 mult, though very ill supported by their superiors, pre- 
 served us in so great a peril." 
 
 Wolsey's deportment was in perfect keeping with this 
 most arbitrary measure : he made the demand in person 
 of the mayor and chief citizens of London, and upon 
 their remonstrating told them very plainly, that " it were 
 the better that they should suffer indigence than that the 
 king at this time should lack ; and therefore," added he, 
 " beware, and resist not, nor ruffle not in this case ; for it 
 may fortune to cost some of you their heads." t The 
 
 * Hallam, Constitutional History of England. 
 
 " f This head chopping mode of raising supplies appears to have been in 
 particular esteem with the king during hia reign. While the opposition 
 of the commons to the former imposition lasted, Henry sent for a Mr. Ed- 
 ward Montague, who had considerable influence in the house, and said 
 ",Ho, man, will they npt suffer my bill to pass?" and laying his hand on
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 14? 
 
 mayor asked permission to consult the common council 
 before he should declare himself ; but the cardinal pe- 
 remptorily refused him ; and, in order to prevent the 
 effect of an united opposition, required that he and all 
 the aldermen should separately confer with himself about 
 the matter. 
 
 But there is a limit to the most passive submission, 
 particularly in the present instance, when the great sore 
 of public feeling illegal and oppressive taxation was 
 tented to the quick. The people gave vent to their dis- 
 content in murmurs, complaints, and opposition to the 
 commissioners *; and a serious insurrection, that threat- 
 ened to become general, broke out in the " butcher dog's" 
 (so the insurgents contemptuously termed him) native 
 county. The proud tempers of Wolsey and his master 
 were overawed by this menacing spirit of the " licen- 
 tious populace," and letters were speedily despatched to 
 all the counties, declaring that the king meant not to 
 employ force in levying his late imposition, and that he 
 would take nothing from his " loving subjects," but by 
 way of voluntary benevolence. A general pardon was 
 granted to the contumacious rebels, their guilt being 
 prudently imputed, after the manner of Shakespeare's 
 Apothecary's to poverty, and not want of inclination 
 to do better. The odium of the entire transaction, as 
 usual, fell upon the minister, whom all parties, rich and 
 poor, united in denouncing as the subverter of their laws 
 and liberties ; while the clemency of the pardon, by an 
 illusion, which (like other theoretical anomalies in the 
 constitution) on the whole " works well" in practice, 
 was ascribed wholly to the benign affection of the so- 
 vereign. 
 
 Montague's head, who was then on his knees before him, " Get my bill 
 passed by to-morrow, or else to-morrow this head of yours will be off." The 
 bill was passed, and Mr. Montague's head was permitted to remain in iu 
 ordinary position. 
 
 * Warham, the archbishop of Canterbury, in a letter to Wolsey on these 
 discontents of the populace, observes, that " he would that the time had 
 suffered that this practising with the people for so great sums might hare 
 been spared till the cuckoo time and the hot weather (at which time mad 
 brains be most busy) had been overpassed." This is a specimen of the phy- 
 (iological wisdom of our ancestors. 
 
 fc 2
 
 148 BRITISH STATESMEN". 
 
 It might, perhaps, be supposed, that, however unpo- 
 pular was Wolsey's civil administration, his rapacity 
 and arbitrary innovations would not extend to the body 
 ef which he was a member, and that his church govern- 
 ment would be marked by so much of the esprit du corps 
 as to ensure him at least against the ill-will of his eccle- 
 siastical brethren. But the contrary was the fact : the 
 clergy feared and hated him with the acrimony of their 
 profession ; and curses, not loud but deep, followed his 
 wake from the poorer monks whom he had expelled 
 from their dwellings, and whose revenues he had applied 
 to the indulgence of his own vanity and love of magni- 
 ficence ; and from the more wealthy secular and pro- 
 fessed priests and dignitaries whom he had compelled to 
 compromise by large sums of money for such charges as 
 he pleased to allege against them, and upon whom he 
 had attempted every means of reform, but the purest and 
 most efficacious, that of example. 
 
 We have seen that he was joined in the legatine au- 
 thority with Campeggio, a part of whose duty it was to 
 enquire into the condition of the monasteries throughout 
 England. Wolsey meditated great designs in this legatine 
 visitation of the religious houses, which, however, he 
 wished should be felt as the effects of his own undivided 
 authority. At his instance, Henry applied to the pope 
 to have Campeggio recalled, and Wolsey instituted alone 
 in the legatine power. Leo X. accordingly issued a bull, 
 constituting the English cardinal legate a latere, with the 
 unusual privilege of dispensing with all church laws for 
 one year. He purchased at very high prices renewals of 
 this bull from Leo and his successor, and was finally in- 
 vested with the legatine authority, and appointed the 
 pope's vicar-general in England for life by Clement VII. 
 His first act as pope (which he was to all intents and 
 purposes) in England, was the erecting an office which 
 he called the legatine court ; the authority of which/ in- 
 rested as he was now with all power ecclesiastical as well 
 as civil, was really unbounded : by it he assumed a kind
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 149 
 
 of inquisitorial jurisdiction over the clergy *, and even 
 over the laity, unknown in this country ; for he not only 
 directed enquiries into all offences against good morals, 
 which were not cognizable by the law, but actually ex- 
 tended his office of censor to levities of conduct and 
 matters of conscience. The immoralities springing from 
 the wealth and ignorance of the clergy were the constant 
 themes of his denouncement, considered at the time the 
 more audacious and offensive, from the contrast afforded 
 by his own expensive and dissolute habits, t The 
 monks and other members of religious houses were, from 
 the more open libertinism of the lives of many of them, 
 particularly obnoxious to this most oppressive tribunal, 
 and were compelled to purchase an indemnity from time 
 to time by the payment of large sums of money. 
 
 Not content with this authority, and the great emo- 
 luments derived from it, Wolsey assumed the whole 
 power of nominating to whatever priories or benefices 
 he pleased, without regard to the right of election in the 
 monks, and of patronage in the nobility and gentry ; 
 and, moreover, usurped the fees and jurisdiction of the 
 prerogative and bishops' courts, particularly in the cases, 
 the most profitable, of wills and testaments. But Wol- 
 sey's designs for the reformation of the clergy were not 
 limited to the fines and punishments of his legatine in- 
 quisition. He clearly saw that the inevitable effects of 
 the corruption and ignorance of the ecclesiastical body 
 would be fatal to religion, unless some bold and effectual 
 steps were taken to correct them ; and therefore, says 
 
 * He caused returns of the number of churches, monasteries, and reli- 
 gious houses, with their revenues, &c., in the kingdom, to be made out. 
 From these returns there appear to have been 9407 churches in England 
 in the time of Wolsey. In the time of bishop Gibson (Charles II.) there 
 were not more than 9282. " I know not," says that prelate, " how this 
 difference should arise, unless it be that some were demolished in the last 
 
 he educated at great cost in Paris, and presented with eleven livings. One 
 article of his impeachment charges him with having compelled a sir John 
 Henley to resign a farm belonging to a convent at Chester, in favour of the 
 man who had married the mother of two other of his illegitimate children. 
 But such profligate libertinism was not unusual in those times in clergy. 
 men. 
 
 x, 3
 
 150 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 Burnet, " intended to visit all the monasteries of Eng- 
 land, that, so discovering their corruptions, he might the 
 better justify the design he had to suppress most of 
 them, and convert them into bishoprics, cathedrals, col- 
 legiate churches, and colleges." A bull was obtained 
 from Rome to carry this design into effect ; but Wolsey 
 was, according to the same author, " diverted from 
 making any use of it, by some, who advised him rather 
 to suppress monasteries by the pope's authority than 
 proceed in a method which would raise great hatred 
 against himself, cast foul aspersions on religious orders, 
 and give the enemies of the church great advantages 
 against it ; yet," observes the bishop, " he had commu- 
 nicated his design to the king; and his secretary Thomas 
 Cromwell, understanding it, was thereby instructed how 
 to proceed afterwards, when they went about the total 
 suppression of the monasteries." 
 
 But Wolsey was not altogether "diverted" from his 
 design, nor was he induced to relinquish its prosecution in 
 its entire extent by the motives with which Burnet alleges 
 him to have been actuated. With a courage worthy of 
 his high ambition and extraordinary fortune, he in two 
 years dissolved forty-one of the lesser monasteries; 
 and was only restrained in his course by a friendly ad- 
 monition from the king, to avoid giving future occasion 
 to the "mumblings" and " murmurings" which his in- 
 novations had given birth to among the poorer classes, 
 who were strongly attached to the monastic institutions, 
 from the shelter afforded by them against the extreme 
 ills of poverty, and from their being the only means of 
 advancement to persons of lowly origin. Wolsey thus 
 established the precedent, which 
 
 " The majestic lord, 
 Who broke the bonds of Rome," 
 
 a few years after so extensively acted upon, and which 
 so much favoured the spread of the reformation in Eng- 
 land. 
 
 The use to which Wolsey applied the funds of the 
 dissolved monasteries sheds a bright lustre upon his
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 151 
 
 character, and goes far to atone for the arbitrary means 
 which he employed to attain so excellent an end. The 
 revenues and endowments of the monastery of St. Fri- 
 deswide, the wealthiest and most considerable of the 
 proscribed institutions, were appropriated to the form- 
 ation of a " college of secular priests," still in existence 
 as Christ Church college, Oxford *, and the revenues 
 of the rest were employed with equal zeal in the same 
 noble design of diffusing the means of learning. 
 Through his aid, also, lectures were read at Oxford on 
 theology, civil law, physic, philosophy, mathematics, 
 Greek, rhetoric, and humanity, by the most eminent 
 scholars and masters of that day, many of whom being 
 foreigners -were induced to come into England by his 
 reputation as a munificent patron of literature. Ipswich, 
 his native town, tasted largely of his bounty and zeal in 
 the cause of education. He established a school, and 
 made arrangements for a college there ; and penned him- 
 self a Latin preface to Lilly's Grammar (then just- pub- 
 lished), which he particularly desired should be used in 
 his foundation. We shall quote a portion the opening 
 part of this preface, as it is the only effort of Wolsey's 
 pen, not connected with state transactions or his private 
 affairs, that has come down to us. The royalty of its 
 style is characteristic. 
 
 " Thomas, Cardinal of York, to the masters of Ips- 
 wich School, greeting. 
 
 " We imagine nobody can be ignorant of the care, 
 study, and industry of mind, with which we have 
 hitherto directed our labours, not for our own private 
 interest, but that of our country, and all our citizens, 
 which we have very much at heart, and in which parti- 
 cular we shall deem ourselves to have been most amply 
 gratified, if by any Divine blessing we shall improve the 
 minds of the people. Wherefore, being filled with the 
 
 * " Ever witness for him 
 Those twins of learning that he raised in you, 
 Ipswich and Oxford ! " 
 
 Says Griffith, of Wolsey, in Shakspeafe's " Henry VIII." 
 L 4
 
 152 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 utmost zeal to promote learning and piety in our native 
 place, which she claims of us as a certain right, we have 
 founded a Latin school, no ways inelegant, as a testi- 
 mony of our chief regard for them. But as it would be 
 imperfect to erect a school, however magnificent, unless 
 attended by learned masters, we have every way studied 
 to give the government thereof to chosen and approved 
 teachers, under whose tuition British youth may by de- 
 grees, from their earliest years, imbibe both morals and 
 letters ; well knowing that the hopes of the republic arise 
 from their minds being then formed aright ; and that the 
 same may more happily and speedily be brought to bear, 
 we have taken all manner of care that you should have 
 such books as are most necessary for the instruction of 
 them. 
 
 " In this our new school, whereof ye are masters, ye 
 must teach the boys by turns, and diligently exercise 
 them in the rudiments and method of learning, that they 
 may afterwards be advanced to the most elegant litera- 
 ture and the best of morals. To this purpose, if ye 
 labour with equal care to our satisfaction, ye shall not 
 only deserve our great favour for your pains, but make 
 it also happy for your successors. Fare ye well.* 
 
 " From our palace, A. D. 1528. Kal. Sept." 
 
 The deep interest which Wolsey took in the instruc- 
 tion of youth is, as we before remarked, the bright 
 feature of his character, shedding a lustre alike on his 
 heart and intellect. No man seems to have been more 
 aware of the influence of external circumstances, of ap- 
 parently the most trifling nature, in tinging and mould- 
 ing the plastic mind of children, as, indeed, no man 
 excelled him in knowledge of the reflex influence which 
 circumstances in general have on human opinions and 
 actions. He superintended with the most assiduous 
 attention the education of his godson, the earl of Rich- 
 mond (natural son of the king), and in his own hand- 
 
 * See an Essay on a System of Classical Instruction, (London, John 
 Taylor, 1829,) for the remainder of this interesting letter, in which Wolsey 
 lays down the course of studies to be pursued in his school with singular 
 professional minuteness.
 
 CARDINAL WOLSET. 153 
 
 writing drew up a plan of the household and domestic 
 arrangements, in which the minutest particulars were 
 noted, of that young nobleman, on his entering the sixth 
 year of his age. He also superintended the domestic 
 education of the princess Mary ; and, in the height of 
 his power and ambition, stooped to determine whether 
 or not the princess should have " spice plates and a ship 
 of silver for the almes dishe," and if a " trumpet and 
 rebeks" were a fitting toy for her pastime hours " at the 
 solempne fest of Christmas." He is but little read in 
 the philosophy of the human heart, and holds but little 
 sympathy with the labours of a Locke and a Fenelon, who 
 does not admire these proofs of the loftiest wisdom, and 
 as such of the loftiest benevolence. Would that Wolsey 
 had not wasted his fine talents in the mad dreams of 
 ambition, but had applied them to the improvement of 
 the social elements of human happiness ! How much 
 more would he thus have benefited mankind, and how 
 much more would he have contributed to his own peace 
 of mind, and to his honourable claims upon the grati- 
 tude and admiration of posterity ! 
 
 The spirit of rigid and minute detail which we have 
 been just noticing, and which, like his love of the 
 trappings and ceremony of office, was fostered, if not 
 generated, by the genius of the catholic worship, is seen 
 in his bills for the improvement of trade, a subject to 
 which he gave great attention, and for amending the 
 various processes of the law, which, as lord chancellor, he, 
 alone then had the right of bringing before parliament. 
 The great truth (beginning at length to be known by 
 legislators and other men " wise in their generation"), 
 that all that trade wants to thrive, is to be let alone, 
 was not known for centuries after the time of Wolsey ; 
 therefore we need not be surprised to find that the 
 restrictive, and protective, and prohibitive principles, 
 in all their perfection, are those by which he was ac- 
 tuated, and, as a consequence, that he injured the general 
 commerce of the country much more than he benefited 
 particular " interests." The very number and minute-
 
 154 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 ness, however, of those bills and restrictions entitle him 
 to our praise, evincing as they do a statesmanlike view 
 of the importance of trade far beyond his age, though 
 they betray a common ignorance of the best mode of 
 promoting it. Some of those restrictions were of a ludi- 
 crously oppressive nature, particularly from the minute 
 rigidness with which he caused them to be enforced. 
 Acts had been passed regulating the rates of wages of 
 labourers, the hours of meals- and rest, and, with a view 
 probably to encourage some domestic manufacture, spe- 
 cifying the apparel of the " operative" classes, to be 
 worn under penalty and forfeiture. This petty legis- 
 lation, as might naturally be expected, proved highly 
 unpopular. At Rochester the just indignation of the 
 populace burst forth on seeing a man pilloried for merely 
 wearing a " ryven" shirt instead of the texture pre- 
 scribed by act of parliament. Wolsey was too stiff- 
 necked to abate a jot of any restriction, however minute 
 or vexatious, once it had received the sanction of the 
 legislature, and therefore rigidly enforced those oppres- 
 sive and useless statutes ; he himself, " observing one 
 day an elderly man in an old crimson jacket, adorned 
 with various broaches, with his own hands took from him 
 the prohibited dress," by way of example to his com- 
 missioners. 
 
 We possess the most unquestionable authority of the 
 ability and general impartiality of the cardinal's admi- 
 nistration in the court of chancery, in which he " spared 
 neither high nor low, but judged every estate according 
 to their merits and deserts." Sir Thomas More thus 
 writes to his friend Erasmus : " The archbishop of 
 Canterbury" (Warham, whom historians and biogra- 
 phers, including Cavendish himself, erroneously repre- 
 sent to have resigned the seals from disgust at Wolsey's 
 towering ascendancy) " has at length resigned the office 
 of chancellor; which burthen, as you know, he had stre- 
 nuously endeavoured to lay down for some years ; and, 
 the long- wished for retreat being now attained, he enjoys 
 a most pleasant recess in his studies, with the agreeable
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 155 
 
 reflection of having acquitted himself so honourably in 
 that high station. The cardinal of York succeeds him, 
 who discharges the duties of that post so admirably as 
 to surpass the hopes of all, notwithstanding the great 
 opinion of his other eminent qualities, and, which is more 
 rare, to give pleasure and satisfaction after so excellent 
 a predecessor/' We need not say more on the ability of 
 Wolsey's chancellorhip, and will only add, on the sub- 
 ject of his legal administration, that he instituted the 
 most salutary regulations for the prevention and punish- 
 ment of perjury and highway robbery, then very common 
 crimes ; that he also established courts for protecting 
 the poor against the oppression of the rich ; and that 
 his ingenuity and influence were sedulously applied 
 during his entire career to rendering the laws intelligible, 
 simple, cheap, and respected. So far his country was 
 his debtor. 
 
 It was during the administration of Wolsey that 
 Martin Luther sounded the tocsin of religious freedom 
 in Germany, by which the usurped authority of the 
 bishops of Rome was shaken to its foundation. The 
 tide of the reformation had not, however, yet flowed 
 into England, where the public mind was perhaps still 
 more fitted for its reception ; so that the cardinal was 
 not called on to adopt any very decided measures in obe- 
 dience to his master's purpose either of forwarding or 
 retarding it. It is probable that he conceived the con- 
 duct of Luther merely as that of a temporary schismatic, 
 whose bold insolence would abate as its novelty faded, 
 and as the selfish passions which were mixed up with its 
 birth yielded to the influence of time and expostulation. 
 The features of the reformation were not revealed in all 
 their brightness, depth, and breadth, even to its authors, 
 or, more properly speaking, its immediate instruments, 
 for years after the death of Wolsey ; so that it is not to 
 be wondered at that he viewed the " affair" of the pro- 
 fessor of Wittemberg with the pope, concerning the sale 
 of indulgences and the amount of the authority of the 
 papal see, for a long time, with something of the indif-
 
 156 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 ference of a passing incident. He was himself very 
 much inclined for " a reformation of the head and mem- 
 bers " of the church, as appears from his approval of the 
 instructions to the English representatives at the council 
 of Lateran * ; and from his anxiety to correct the igno- 
 rance and licentious habits of the inferior clergy. But 
 throwing off the yoke of the Roman see, toiling as he 
 was with feverish ambition for the chair of St. Peter, 
 was an end that he never for a moment could contem- 
 plate, and would resist with all his energy. 
 
 Our readers are aware that Henry won the title of the 
 " Defender of the Faith" from the pope, as the reward 
 of his book against the " blasphemous, atheistical, and 
 sacrilegious" tenets of Luther. Though it should seem 
 that Wolsey had no share in the composition of the 
 work, yet we learn, from Roper's Life of Sir Thomas 
 More, that that most excellent man was over-ruled by 
 him, in his advice to Henry, to omit, or at least to qualify, 
 that portion in which the papal supremacy is asserted ; 
 and the cardinal's own letter to the pope, which accom- 
 panied a copy of the work, shows his anxiety to have 
 it inferred that Henry's zeal against Luther was mainly 
 instigated by his minister. He could not, however, even 
 though personally inclined, remain a passive spectator 
 of the progress of the Lutheran controversy, after his 
 master had thus decidedly thrown down the gauntlet 
 against the Wittenberg professor. Accordingly he 
 caused pope Leo's bull against Luther to be posted on 
 every church door in England, along with the forty-two 
 " damnable and pestiferous" errors of that great re- 
 former ; by which means, as must have been obvious, 
 had he bestowed on the act a few moments' serious re- 
 flection, he strongly favoured the growth and spread of 
 the " noxious briars" which it was intended to eradicate. 
 
 Neither did Luther himself perceive the advantage 
 to the new doctrines of thus fixing them upon the atten- 
 
 * This council was summoned in 1511, by Julius II., to counteract the 
 effect of the antagonist council of Pisa. The English representatives are 
 enjoined to seek " pro bono universalis ecclesias Catholics, et pro refor- 
 matione ejus, tarn in capUe, quam in mcmbris." Rymer, 3-25.
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 157 
 
 tion of the public mind ; for, looking only to the motive 
 and the insult, he denounced (in his Apologetical Letter 
 to Henry, the most extraordinary of all his extraordinary 
 publications,) Wolsey, with his usual vehemence and 
 coarseness, calling him " illud monstrum et publicum 
 odium Dei et hominum, Cardinalis Eboracensis, pestis 
 ilia regni tui," &c. This abuse had the effect of sharpen- 
 ing Wolsey's judgment ; for we find that he imme- 
 diately issued a command, requiring all persons, under 
 pain of excommunication, to deliver up every work of 
 Luther in their possession. He also applied himself, 
 with redoubled zeal, to the improvement of the schools 
 and colleges throughout the kingdom ; revised the 
 statutes of the universities ; took a warm interest in the 
 success and arrangements of St. Paul's school, lately 
 founded under the celebrated dean Colet : in fact, he 
 seemed determined to supply the church, in the event of 
 a combat, with its most fitting armoury the superior 
 morals and learning of its ministers. " Learning to 
 learning," was his mode of religious warfare ; there 
 being nothing vindictive or sanguinary in Wolsey's cha- 
 racter, where his personal feelings were not offended ; 
 and it should be remembered to his credit, that one 
 article of his impeachment was his remissness in hunt- 
 ing and punishing heretics, as those who had adopted 
 the tenets of Luther were then designated. 
 
 Wolsey had now for many years exercised the entire 
 ecclesiastical and civil power of the kingdom with un- 
 controlled authority, and without any diminution of his 
 master's confidence. His talents, as we before observed, 
 had unfolded themselves as the field of their exertion had 
 widened, while his unpopularity outran both, till it be- 
 came universal. The nobility hated him for the stern 
 iron rule by which he compelled them to obey the laws, 
 and for monopolising with haughty ostentation the royal 
 confidence and favour, which they considered to be their 
 birthright. Proud of their ancient descent, they could 
 ill brook such imperious sway, even from the monarch, 
 and burned with indignation at being obliged to bow and
 
 158 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 cringe to an arrogant " butcher's boy," who set no limits 
 to his demands on their respectful bearing. They re- 
 garded him, moreover, as the murderer of the most 
 illustrious of their body, Stafford, the duke of Bucking- 
 ham *, though the death of that nobleman was at least as 
 much the consequence of Henry's savage jealousy of his 
 Plantagenet blood as of the cardinal's vindictiveness. 
 His arbitrary oppressions in the shape of loans and 
 benevolences, and his still more arbitrary attempt to 
 levy taxes without the aid of parliament, had earned 
 him the resentment of the poorer classes (always prone 
 to regard with envious hatred the conduct of men of 
 lowly origin), and of the small band of patriots who, 
 even in that despotic age, cherished a love of consti- 
 tutional freedom. On the other hand, his undisguised 
 contempt of the ignorance and gross habits of the mass 
 of the clergy, and his arbitrary efforts to punish and 
 amend both, could not fail to make him the object of 
 resentment of a body whose ill-will is proverbially im- 
 placable, and which, in the instance of Wolsey, was the 
 more natural, as they " thought it did not become him, 
 whose vices were notorious and scandalous, to tax others 
 whose faults were neither so great nor so eminent as his 
 were." 
 
 For all these reasons, Wolsey 's administration was 
 highly unpopular, and his destruction sought after by a 
 host of eager enemies. But till the affair of the divorce 
 from queen Catherine, and consequent marriage with 
 Anne Boleyn-j-, that is, till his will and appetite were in- 
 
 * Granger tells, on the authority of Dod's Church History, that. Wolsey, 
 either from vanity or insolence, washed in the basin which the duke had 
 just before held to the king while he washed his hands ; upon which the 
 duke poured the water into the cardinal's shoes. This so provoked the 
 haughty prelate, that he threatened to sit upon his skirts : which menace 
 occasioned the duke's having no skirts to his coat when he next appeared 
 in the royal presence. The king asking the reason of this singular appear, 
 ance, the duke told him that it was only to disappoint the cardinal. 
 
 t The language of Cavendish on this head is amusingly characteristic of 
 the metaphorical phraseology of the age. "Thus passed the cardinal hig 
 life and time from day to day, and year to year, in such great wealth, joy, 
 and triumph, and.glory, having always on hi-s side the king's special favour ; 
 until Fortune, of whose favour no man is longer assured than she is dis- 
 posed, began to wax something wroth with his prosperous estate, and 
 thought she would derise a means to abate his high port ; wherefore she
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 159 
 
 flamed and thwarted by delay and opposition there ap- 
 pears to have been no change in the feelings of the king 
 towards his favourite. Then, indeed, Wolsey's fall was 
 as rapid and astounding as his rise ; and then it was 
 that Henry verified a remarkable declaration of his to 
 one who warned him of his favourite's power and munifi- 
 cence "The hand that made him can destroy him when 
 it lists." Wolsey was himself the first to perceive what 
 his knowledge of Henry's unsteady temper, and of the 
 precarious nature of his hold on his affections, must 
 have often presented to his fancy in those moments of 
 prophetic sadness which steal over us even in our most 
 prosperous and happy hours ; and probably the magni- 
 ficent gift of Hampton Court to his master was the con- 
 sequence of his perceiving some unconscious workings 
 in the royal mind of jealousy of his extraordinary wealth 
 and unsubjectlike splendour. Be that as it may, the 
 effect of the gift was to deafen the king to the complaints 
 and insinuations that were constantly thrown out against 
 the cardinal, and to make the latter indulge his passion 
 for pomp and regal magnificence with more ostentation 
 than ever. 
 
 It does not fall within our design to repeat what his- 
 torians have informed us of the proceedings in the case 
 of the divorce of queen Catharine, more than belongs to 
 the part which Wolsey took in them, and to the manner 
 in which they affected his fortunes. It does not appear 
 when Henry first communicated to his minister his 
 scruples of the legality of his marriage with his brother's 
 widow ; but they were no sooner communicated, than 
 acknowledged to be well founded. These scruples, it is 
 perhaps necessary to premise, were as old as the marriage 
 itself; a dispensation of the pope being required before 
 it could be entered into, and the prince himself being 
 only twelve years old when the contract was ratified. 
 
 procured Venus, the insatiate goddess, to be her instrument. To work her 
 purpose, she brought the king in love with a gentlewoman, that, after she 
 perceived and felt the king's good will towards her, and how diligent he 
 was both to please her, and to grant all her requests, she wrought the cardi. 
 nal much disoleasure, as hereafter shall be more at large declared."
 
 160 BRITISH STATES-MEN. 
 
 Henry VII. never intended that the contract should be 
 permanently binding, and only employed it as a pretext 
 for not repaying the large sum which Catherine brought 
 as her dowry. He ordered the prince to protest against 
 it as soon as he became of age ; and charged him, on his 
 deathbed, as his last injunction, not to fulfil an alliance 
 so unprecedented, and so exposed to insurmountable 
 objections. But Henry was in the height of youth and 
 passion, and spurned all remonstrance. For eighteen 
 years the legality of the marriage was not doubted, 
 though indeed the legitimacy of the princess Mary, the 
 only surviving child of this union, was objected to by 
 the states of Castile whilst her marriage with the emperor 
 Charles was negotiated, and by the ambassador of France 
 when it was intended to betroth her to one of the 
 French king's brothers. 
 
 Years, however, passed on, without any particular 
 mention of the scruples, till what Fuller designates the 
 " cunning chastity " of Anne Boleyn made her refuse to 
 share Henry's bed but as his lawful wife. Queen Cathe- 
 rine had become old and past child-bearing:- Henry, 
 burning with a new passion, loathed her with the aver- 
 sion of satiety: the scruples concerning the legality of 
 the contract rushed to his assistance : all his bishops, 
 Fisher excepted, assured him, and Thomas Aquinas con- 
 vinced him, that the marriage was unlawful. He com- 
 municated his conviction to Wolsey*, and that pliant 
 minister pledged himself to " bring the matter about to 
 his heart's content," so far as the pope was concerned. 
 This happened in 1527, as Wolsey was about to set out 
 on an embassy to France, to conclude a close alliance 
 between the two crowns, and to treat for the liberation of 
 the captive pontiff; an embassy which Cavendish with 
 
 * Both the queen and her nephew, the emperor Charles, charged Wolsey 
 with having originated the divorce indirectly through thebishop of Tarbes. 
 "Of this trouble I may only thank you, my lord cardinal of York; for, because 
 I have wondered at your high pride and vain glory, and ahhor your volup- 
 tuous life, and little regard your presumptuous power and tyranny, there- 
 fore of malice you have kindled this fire and set t/iis matter abroad, and in 
 especial for the great malice that you bear to my nephew the emperor, be- 
 cause he would not satisfy your ambition and make you pope by force." 
 Hall. And to the same effect Charles in Le Grand.
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. l6l 
 
 plausibility ascribes to the malice of his enemies, " in 
 order to get him out of the king's daily presence, and to 
 convey him out of the realm, that they might have con- 
 venient leisure and opportunity to adventure their long 
 desired enterprise; and by the aid of their chief mis- 
 tress, my lady Ann, to deprove him so unto the king in his 
 absence, that he would be rather in his high displeasure, 
 than in his accustomed favour ; or at the least to be in less 
 estimation with his majesty." 
 
 The cardinal conducted this embassy with even more 
 than his usual state and magnificence, and was received 
 every where with a respect only paid to the most power- 
 ful monarchs. His train consisted of 1200 lords and 
 gentlemen on horseback, attired in the most costly livery. 
 
 " On his landing at Calais, he called before him all his 
 noblemen and gentlemen into his privy chamber; where 
 they being assembled, [he] said unto them in this wise 
 in effect : ' I have called you hither to this intent, to 
 declare unto you, that I considering the intelligence that 
 ye minister unto me, and the good will that I bear you 
 again for the same, intending to remember your dili- 
 gent service hereafter, in place where ye shall receive 
 condign thanks and rewards. And also I would show 
 you further what authority I have received directly 
 from the king's highness ; and to instruct you some- 
 what of the nature of the Frenchmen ; and then to in- 
 form you what reverence ye shall use unto me for the 
 high honour of the king's majesty, and also how ye shall 
 entertain the Frenchmen, whensoever ye shall meet at 
 any time. First, ye shall understand that the king's ma- 
 jesty, upon certain weighty considerations, hath, for the 
 more advancement of his royal dignity, assigned me in 
 this journey to be his lieutenant-general ; and what re- 
 verence belongeth to the same I will tell you. That for 
 my part I must, by virtue of my commission of lieute- 
 nantship, assume and take upon me, in all honours and 
 degrees, to have all such service and reverence as to his 
 highness' presence is meet and due : and nothing thereof 
 to be neglected or omitted by me that to his royal estate 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 is appurtenant. And for my part ye shall see me that I 
 will not omit one jot thereof. Therefore, because ye 
 shall not be ignorant in that behalf, is one of the special 
 causes of this your assembly, willing and commanding 
 you as ye entend my favour not to forget the same in 
 time and place, but every of you do observe this in- 
 formation and instruction as ye will at my return avoid 
 the king's indignation, but to obtain his highness' thanks, 
 the which I will further for you as ye shall deserve. 
 
 " ' Now to the point of the Frenchmen's nature, ye 
 shall understand that their disposition is such, that they 
 will be at the first meeting as familiar with you as they 
 had been acquainted with you long before, and com- 
 mune with you in the French tongue as though ye un- 
 derstood every word they spake : therefore in like 
 manner, be ye as familiar with them again as they be 
 with you. If they speak to you in the French tongue, 
 speak you to them in the English tongue ; for if you 
 understand not them, they shall no more understand 
 you.' And my lord speaking merrily to one of the 
 gentlemen there, being a Welshman, ( Rice,' quoth he, 
 ' speak thou Welsh to him, and I am well assured that 
 thy Welsh shall be more diffuse to him than his 
 French shall be to thee.' And then quoth he again to 
 us all, ' Let all your entertainment and behaviour be ac- 
 cording to all gentleness and humanity, that it may be 
 reported, after your departure from thence, that ye be 
 gentlemen of right good behaviour, and of much gentle- 
 ness, and that ye be men that know your duty to your 
 sovereign lord, and to your master, allowing much 
 your great reverence. Thus shall ye not only obtain to 
 yourselves great commendation and praise for the same, 
 but also advance the honour of your prince and country. 
 Now go your ways admonished of all these points, and 
 prepare yourselves against to-morrow, for then we in- 
 tend, God willing, to set forward."* 
 
 Wolsey's " progress" from Calais to Amiens, where 
 Francis awaited him, was accompanied with all the 
 
 * Cavendish.
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEV. l63 
 
 honours and privileges of royalty, here, as a cardinal, 
 proclaiming a day for the remission of sins there, 
 exercising the regal privilege of relieving confined debtors. 
 As he was in the height of his resentment against 
 Charles, and did not yet despair of the popedom, he 
 concluded a most solemnly-binding compact on the part 
 of his sovereign with the French king, and strove to 'win 
 that monarch to his personal interests by all possible 
 expedients. Among the rest, he promised to have his 
 master's marriage with queen Catherine annulled by the 
 pope ; and the princess Renee, Francis's sister-in-law, 
 made queen of England. Full of this project, he re- 
 turned home. 
 
 He met the king in Kent, on his way to London, 
 and entered into an explanation of his embassy, dwell- 
 ing particularly on the advantages of the projected 
 alliance with a French princess. Henry received him 
 coldly, and told him that he did not want a French 
 princess, for that Anne Boleyn should be his queen 
 as soon as Wolsey's zeal had obtained the papal sanc- 
 tion. The cardinal was thunderstruck at this declar- 
 ation, for he saw in its fulfilment his inevitable ruin. 
 He was not ignorant of the king's passion for Anne, 
 for, at Henry's command, he had, long before his 
 embassy, annulled her contract with lord Percy, and had 
 compelled that young nobleman to marry another lady ; 
 but he considered it to be the mere ebullition of lust, 
 which would most probably end in her becoming the 
 king's concubine. Still considering the king's resolution 
 to be dictated by his coarser feelings, he threw himself 
 at Henry's knees, and implored him not to persist in it, 
 urging every topic he thought likely to affect his pride 
 or his interest. But he might as well bay the moon as 
 attempt to talk Henry's appetite into moderation. He 
 was dismissed with a command to lose no time in ful- 
 filling his promise of " bringing the affair of the divorce 
 about to the king's satisfaction." Notwithstanding this 
 rebuff Wolsey did not altogether abandon his French 
 alliance, for he still trusted in the effect of delay in 
 M 2
 
 164 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 abating the fervour of his master's present passion, and 
 in thereby disposing him to entertain his project with 
 less reluctance on a future occasion. He knew, how- 
 ever, that, whatever should be the result of the affair 
 with Anne Boleyn, it " would be as much as his life 
 was worth " to procure the papal dispensation ; and ac- 
 cordingly applied himself with extraordinary zeal to 
 gain the pope over to his purpose. 
 
 Our readers, we take it for granted, are acquainted 
 with the evasive conduct of Clement VII. in the matter 
 of the divorce; with his vacillations between the " ham- 
 mer and the forge," as he himself termed it his fears to 
 offend the emperor, whose prisoner he lately was, and his 
 anxiety to be on good terms with the court of England ; 
 with the proceedings of the trial opened before his legates 
 Campeggio and Wolsey (which the pen of Shakspeare 
 has recorded in his imperishable language, and which the 
 genius of Mrs. Siddons, and the classic taste of the 
 Kembles, has pictured in a style worthy of that lan- 
 guage on the memory of the fading generation) ; with 
 the artful adjourning of the process to Rome ; and with 
 all the schemes employed by that subtle court to delay 
 the adverse decision to the last moment. Wolsey was no 
 party to these time-killing evasions. On the contrary, 
 his letters betoken a deep and feverish anxiety to have 
 the decretal bull issued without delay or qualification. 
 In the letter in which he congratulates the pope on his 
 obtaining his liberty, he urges him to despatch the king's 
 business. " This only I will add," he says, " that that 
 which is desired is holy and just, and very much for the 
 safety and quiet of the kingdom, which is most devoted 
 to the apostolic see." He told Clement that his de- 
 laying the bull would be his certain ruin, and would en- 
 danger the obedience of the crown of England to the 
 papal see. He wrote long and most earnest letters to 
 the ambassadors at Rome, in which all the arguments 
 that a most anxious mind could devise are forcibly 
 urged to persuade the pope to grant the king's desire. 
 He offers to take the blame of the entire proceeding
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEVT. 165 
 
 " on his own soul/' if there was any thing informal 
 or " amiss" in it. He entreated Campeggio, who was 
 sought for as the legate, " for his known tractableness," 
 to hasten to England as he valued his own interest and 
 his friend's safety. In another letter Wolsey writes, 
 " For my part, I would expose any thing to my life, 
 yea, life itself, rather than see the inconveniences that 
 may ensue upon disappointing of the king's desires." 
 
 But all this zeal availed him not : the friends of Anne 
 were his implacable enemies ; and she was easily led to 
 believe that the delay of her marriage * was wholly 
 owing to his predilection for another alliance. This 
 being a crime which the female heart never forgives, 
 she lost no opportunity of poisoning the ear of her royal 
 lover against his favourite. On the other hand, the friends 
 of the queen regarded him as the prime mover and ori- 
 ginator of the whole proceeding, unmindful of the king's 
 solemn declaration to the contrary, and sought his de- 
 struction with all the virulence of insulted honour, sharp- 
 ened by revenge. It was suggested to Henry, that all 
 the crosses and evasions with which the pope had so 
 long thwarted his matrimonial designs were but the 
 
 * The reader will, we are sure, be gratified by perusing the following 
 naive letter from Anne Boleyn to Wolsey concerning the dispensation for 
 her marriage : 
 " My Lord, 
 
 " In my most humblest wise that my poor heart can think, I do thank 
 your grace for your kind letter, and for your rich and goodly present, the 
 which I shall never be able to deserve without your help : of the which I 
 have hitherto had so great plenty, that all the days of my life I am most 
 bound of all creatures, next the king's grace, to love and serve your grace : 
 of the which I beseech you never to doubt that ever I shall vary from this 
 thought as long as any breath is in my body. And as touch ing your grace's 
 trouble with the sweat this allusion to the ' sweating sickness' shows the 
 letter to have been written in 1528], I thank our Lord that them that 
 I desired and prayed for are scaped, and that is the king and you ; not 
 doubting but that God has preserved you both for great causes, known only 
 of his high wisdom. And as for the coming of the legate, I desire that 
 much, and if it be God's pleasure, I pray him to send this matter shortly 
 to a good end, and then I trust, my lord, to recompense part of your great 
 pains. In the which I must require you in the mean time to accept my 
 good will, in the stead of the power, the which must proceed partly from 
 you, as our Lord knoweth ; to whom I beseech to send you long life, with 
 continuance in honour. Written with the hand of her that is most bound 
 to be, 
 
 " Your humble and obedient servant, 
 
 " ANNE BOLEYN." 
 
 The reader will find many other equally interesting letters of Anne, and 
 the other parties engaged in the divorce, in Burnet. 
 M 3
 
 163 
 
 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 cardinal's artifices to change his purpose, by wearing out 
 his hopes of its being successful. Irritated almost to mad- 
 ness by the obstacles which papal chicanery had placed 
 in the way of the gratification of his passion, he gave a 
 willing ear to the suggestion, and vented his long-sup- 
 pressed indignation upon the cardinal. The high opinion 
 which he had so long entertained of Wolsey's capacity 
 now only contributed to inflame his new feeling against 
 him, and to hasten his downfall. He would not believe 
 that the cardinal could fail if his fidelity went along 
 with his zeal, and therefore thought that he must have 
 been " juggling all this time in the business." 
 
 But the blow did not fall instantly, though Wolsey 
 knew it was now inevitable. At the close of the lega- 
 tine court one day, Henry ordered the cardinal to attend 
 him at the palace of Bridewell adjoining. For an hour 
 the indignant sovereign shoAvered on the head of the de- 
 voted minister the most vehement abuse for the delay 
 that had taken place in the business. Wolsey in vain 
 attempted to justify his conduct. The king abruptly dis- 
 missed him, and the cardinal sought the respite of his 
 own palace at Westminster. The bishop of Carlisle, 
 who entered the barge with him at Blackfriars, remarked 
 that " it was a very hot day." " Yes," replied Wolsey, 
 ce and if you had been as much chafed as I have been 
 within this hour, you would indeed say it was very hot." 
 
 Oppressed, exhausted, and heart-broken, the cardinal 
 immediately went to bed on arriving at his residence 
 (York-house, now Whitehall palace), but was almost as 
 soon compelled to return to Bridewell, by the king's 
 command, requiring the immediate interposition of the 
 legates with the queen, then at the palace. He had here 
 to encounter the mortifying taunts and vituperation of 
 the enraged princess, upon whom he could make no fa- 
 vourable impression. Another interview with Henry to 
 communicate the unsuccessful issue of his interposition 
 finished this day's anxiety. A few days after Cam- 
 peggio abruptly adjourned the court to October, without 
 coming to any decision.
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. l67 
 
 Nothing could exceed the surprise and indignation of 
 the king at this proceeding. The whole court complained 
 of the delay, and pressed the legates to give sentence. 
 Campeggio said he could not till October. " Upon which 
 the lords spake very high : and the duke of Suffolk, with 
 great commotion, swore ' by the mass, that he saw it was 
 true which had been commonly said, that never cardinal 
 yet did good in England;' and so all the temporal lords 
 went away in a fury, leaving the legates, Wolsey in par- 
 ticular, in no small perplexity." Wolsey, against whom 
 Suffolk's declaration was wholly aimed, from this learned 
 that the courtiers clearly saw that his fall was at hand. 
 Nothing more, however, happened at this time, for the 
 king immediately left town on a progress with his mis- 
 tress. 
 
 The two cardinals waited on Henry at Grafton in 
 Northamptonshire. Wolsey's pride and hopes received 
 here their fatal blow, for the courtiers who attended the 
 king no longer disguised their insolence and resentment, 
 and knowing his disgrace to have been fixed upon, actually 
 " laid many great wagers that his majesty would not 
 speak with the lord cardinal." His mortifications did 
 not end here. On reaching the entrance of the court, 
 Campeggio was immediately conducted to an apartment 
 prepared for him, and Wolsey, with dismay, heard that 
 no order for his accommodation had been issued. The 
 delicate and most considerate courtesy of sir Henry 
 Norris, a young and favoured attendant of the king (who 
 was not long afterwards executed for an alleged crimi- 
 nality with Anne Boleyn) in some degree relieved him 
 from the embarrassments of his situation. The knight 
 begged Wolsey to accept of his apartment, affecting to 
 ascribe the manifest neglect of the cardinal to the limited 
 arrangements of the king's present residence. 
 
 From Norris, Wolsey soon learned what was known 
 at court of Henry's estrangement from his minister. A 
 ray of sunshine, however, for a moment lit up Wolsey's 
 fortunes. The cardinal was bidden to the royal presence, 
 and was received courteously, even kindly. The presence 
 M 4
 
 168 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 of the man who had so long maintained an ascendant 
 over his affections, and in whom he had reposed such un- 
 limited confidence, melted the stubborn heart of Henry, 
 who ever acted in obedience to the passing impulse. He 
 raised Wolsey from his kneeling posture, and leading 
 him by the hand to the recess of a window, conversed 
 with him long and earnestly. From the expressions, how- 
 ever, which reached the ear of Cavendish it should seem 
 that Henry was accusing him of some deception in his con- 
 duct as minister. " How can that be ? is not this your 
 own hand ? " said the king, plucking out of his bosom a 
 letter or writing, and showing him the same. Wolsey 
 was then dismissed to dinner, with the promise of another 
 interview on the morrow. That interview, however, was 
 not granted ; for Anne Boleyn, who was urged by her 
 uncle the duke of Norfolk, and her own inclination, to 
 employ all her influence to prevent their enemy's return 
 to favour, had engaged the amorous monarch in a sylvan 
 excursion in a neighbouring park, and Wolsey never 
 afterwards saw his royal master. 
 
 Scarcely had Campeggio separated from his colleague 
 than his baggage was examined, Henry suspecting that 
 Wolsey was transmitting through him the means of pro- 
 viding for himself abroad, in the event of his escaping 
 from the kingdom. But a provision for a future day 
 had never once crossed the cardinal's mind through his 
 whole career : rapacity was in him a means of which 
 lavish magnificence, and not griping avarice, was the 
 sole end. 
 
 On his return to London, he opened the court of 
 chancery with his wonted parade. It was his last exer- 
 cise of the high functions of lord chancellor. The next 
 morning he was waited on by the dukes of Norfolk and 
 Suffolk, and the great seal demanded from him. He 
 refused to deliver it up on a mere verbal order, and 
 without a formal letter to that effect from the king's own 
 hand. He probably expected that the reflection which 
 attends the act of writing, and delay in the execution of 
 a design, would induce Henry to soften, if riot altogether
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 109 
 
 revoke, his order. He was disappointed : on the follow- 
 ing day the two dukes bore away the insignia of his 
 office, first presenting him with their master's written 
 authority. He was at the same time commanded to give 
 up York palace, built by himself on the property of the 
 see off York, and to reside in Esher, adjoining Hampton 
 Court, another palace, also built by him, belonging to 
 the bishopric of Winchester. 
 
 Wolsey having taken a farewell survey of the costly 
 furniture of his princely mansion, which exceeded in 
 splendour any thing ever seen before in England (an 
 inventory of it is still preserved in the Harleian MSS. 
 in the British Museum), set out on his way to Esher. 
 He was rowed in his barge to Putney, where his mules 
 and horses awaited him. An incident occurred on this 
 journey which is calculated to excite our disgust at his 
 meanness ; not the less so, perhaps, when his former 
 overbearing haughtiness of deportment presents itself to 
 our recollection. Not, indeed, that there is any thing 
 inconsistent or unusual in this mixture of inordinate 
 pride and base abjectness of nature. They are both the 
 offspring of selfishness and-hollowness of heart, 
 
 " Proud men are base, to compass their desire ; 
 They lowest crouch, that highest do aspire." 
 
 Scarcely had he proceeded on his mule, when sir Henry 
 Norris rode up to him, and hailed him with the glad 
 tidings, that " the king commanded his grace to be of 
 good cheer, for that he was as much in his favour as he 
 had ever been." These " good and comfortable" words 
 were accompanied by a well-known ring, which Henry sent 
 him as a certain token of his favour. Wolsey was at first 
 overpowered by the extravagance of his transports of 
 joy. He prostrated himself " on his knees in the mire," 
 and with the wildest gestures of gratitude invoked the 
 blessings of heaven on his royal master. The young 
 knight, amazed at this abasement of the haughty prelate, 
 knelt down beside him, and besought him to give cre- 
 dence to his message. But the other, almost choked
 
 170 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 with emotion, could only ejaculate his broken thanks to 
 his God and his king ; showing thereby, observes Bur- 
 net, how mean a soul he had, and that, as he himself af- 
 terwards acknowledged, " he preferred the king's favour 
 to God Almighty's." On parting, he gave Norris a piece 
 of the " real holy cross," which he wore round his neck, 
 as a token of his friendship. " Gentle Norris ! if I were lord 
 of a realm, the one half thereof were an insufficient reward 
 to give you for your pains and right comfortable news. 
 But, master Norris, consider with me that I have nothing 
 left me but my clothes on my back ; therefore I desire 
 you to take this small reward of my hand." To the king 
 he sent many messages of devotion ; and recollecting, 
 after taking leave of the knight, that Henry prized a 
 favourite fool he had in his household, he recalled Norris, 
 and bade the menial accompany him to the king ; but 
 the poor attached creature could with difficulty be com- 
 pelled into his new service, and not till the cardinal had 
 ordered six of his stoutest yeomen to enforce him ; a 
 striking instance, says the chronicler, of his total regard- 
 lessness of the consequences to others of his attaining his 
 end self, (in this case, a forgetfulness, to say the least 
 of it, of the lacerated feelings of affection of a poor crea- 
 ture who was all feeling,) even in affliction. 
 
 Wolsey spent some weeks at Esher, a prey to his 
 fears and mortified ambition. As might be expected, 
 the world, that had paid him such abject court in his 
 prosperity, deserted him in this fatal reverse of his for- 
 tune. Wolsey was not himself prepared for what he con- 
 ceived to be base ingratitude : it surprised and depressed 
 him ; and the same pride, unsupported by true dignity 
 of character, which made him be vainly elated with his 
 recent grandeur, made him now doubly sensitive to the 
 humiliations of adversity. Under any circumstances he 
 would be unfit for solitude : the glory more even than 
 the power annexed to high station, and the gaze of the 
 multitude being the breath of his nostrils ; the calm con- 
 tentment of private life was to him a sound of no mean-
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 171 
 
 ing. What, then, must have been his feelings in this 
 first hour of his misery ? 
 
 " Now the thought 
 
 Both of lost happiness (?) and lasting pain 
 Torments him." 
 
 Baffled in all the schemes of his ambition ; disgraced 
 before his rivals ; abandoned by the world, and forsaken 
 by his royal master ! his heart was not yet sufficiently 
 chastened by affliction to seek for consolation in its only 
 true source religion ; but still clung with the despair 
 of a lover to the hope of the royal mercy. His letter to 
 Gardiner, whom he had the merit of bringing forward 
 from obscurity, and who, excepting his other secretary, 
 Cromwell, of all his followers, alone retained grateful 
 respect for their benefactor in his fallen fortunes, be- 
 speak the agony of his feelings. They are usually sub- 
 scribed, " With a rude hand and sorrowful heart, T. 
 Card 1 ' 8 . Ebor. miserrimus," and are scarcely legible, 
 from the excitement under which they seem to have been 
 written. 
 
 But the cup was not yet filled to the brim : other 
 crosses and sorrows were necessary to wean Wolsey from 
 worldly ambition, and these were speedily inflicted on 
 him; An information was filed against him by the 
 attorney-general, for having, contrary to a statute of 
 Richard II., called the Statute of Provisors, exercised 
 legatine authority in England, and having procured bulls 
 from Rome in that capacity. Wolsey confessed the in- 
 dictment ; but pleaded usage and ignorance of the sta- 
 tute, and threw himself on the king's mercy. Nothing 
 could be more unjust and tyrannical than the prosecu- 
 tion of what Henry had himself all along openly sanc- 
 tioned. The clergy at large were implicated in the 
 information, and were compelled to purchase an in- 
 demnity with sums of money. Sentence was at once 
 pronounced against the cardinal : he was declared to 
 have incurred the penalties of a prcemunire ; that is, 
 " that he was out of the king's protection, his lands and
 
 172 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 goods forfeited, and that his person might be committed 
 to custody." 
 
 This harsh treatment produced its usual effects on the 
 public mind : the sight of fallen greatness, which, far 
 more than that of fallen virtue, wins the sympathy of 
 the multitude, converted the resentment and envy of the 
 people into compassion, and even kindliness of feeling. 
 The sentence, however, was not persisted in. Henry 
 granted his prostrate ex-minister a free pardon, and re- 
 instated him in the sees of York and Winchester. A 
 wreck (to the value of 6374/.) of his immense property 
 was restored to him soon after. 
 
 This brief kindness of the king was but the last 
 flickering of his better feelings towards the cardinal. He 
 had already promised Anne Boleyn that he would never 
 see him more, and Wolsey knew too well that his ad- 
 dress in personal conference was the only chance he had 
 of regaining his master's favour. Henry found that 
 he could do without him, both as a companion and 
 as a minister; and, with the capricious selfishness of 
 his temper, " whistled" him down the winds for ever. 
 Immediately before he was forgiven the penalties of the 
 " praemunire," he had ordered him to be indicted in the 
 star-chamber, a court which he himself had restored *, 
 as a curb on the nobility, for high treason. By that 
 court he was handed over to the vengeance of parlia- 
 ment, and there formally attainted of high treason, in a 
 bill containing forty-four articles of impeachment. His 
 gross arbitrary outrages upon the constitution were 
 
 * Sir Thomas Smith (in his Commonwealth of England), secretary of 
 state under Edward VI. and Elizabeth, informs us that the court of star- 
 chamber " took augmentation and authority at the time that Cardinal 
 Wolsey was chancellor of England, who of some was thought to have first 
 devised that court, because that he, after some intermission by negligence 
 of time, augmented the authority of it. The measure," he continues, 
 " was marvellous necessary to repress the insolence of the noblemen and 
 gentlemen of the north parts of England, who, being far from the king 
 and the seat of justice, made almost, as it were, an ordinary war among 
 themselves, and made their force their law, binding themselves, with their 
 tenants and servants, to do or revenge injury one against another, as they 
 listed." 
 
 On the antiquity of the star-chamber see the introductory volume of 
 Brodie's History of the British Empire, and the first volume of Hallam's 
 Constitutional History of England.
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 173 
 
 wholly overlooked in this attainder ; for these were not 
 the offences a parliament of Henry dared to punish, or 
 that would incur his resentment ; and the charges are 
 chiefly against the abuses of his legatine authority, and 
 his haughty deportment in the council. He was charged 
 with having been the first to receive letters from the 
 king's ministers abroad (a curious charge against a prime 
 minister !) ; with having named himself along with the 
 king, as if he had been his fellow (the ego et rex meus 
 charge, which only betrays its framer's ignorance of the 
 Latin idiom) ; with having whispered in the king's ear, 
 whilst he laboured under a particular disease ; with con- 
 suming too much time with a fair tale in the council ; 
 with allowing no opposition, and overwhelming it with 
 " his accustomable words," so that the members were 
 better hold their peace than speak ; with having greatly 
 overshadowed, for a long season, the king's honour; 
 and with many other offences equally indicative of his 
 prosecutors' malevolence, and of the impression which 
 his pride and haughtiness had made on his contempo- 
 raries. The bill flew through the lords, by whom the 
 cardinal was hated to a man ; and was thrown out of 
 the commons, as the reader of history is aware, through 
 the zeal, eloquence, and honourable exertions of Crom- 
 well. It was after the failure of this parliamentary im- 
 peachment that he was prosecuted, as we have narrated, 
 under the Statute of Provisors. 
 
 One honourable trait in the character of Wolsey, 
 which should have atoned for much of his sufferings, 
 was brought into relief by the privations which he now 
 endured at Esher his affability and kindness to his 
 servants and followers. Unable to pay them the usual 
 stipend, he begged of them to provide themselves with a 
 new master till fortune should have proved more auspi- 
 cious. With tears most of them refused to leave " so 
 kind a master" in his adversity. In this emergency, 
 Cromwell suggested an expedient, of which he set the 
 first example. He proposed a subscription among the 
 chaplains and others whom the cardinal had provided
 
 174 BRITISH STATES3IEX. 
 
 with livings. A common fund was immediately sub- 
 scribed, which enabled him to pay off most of the arrears 
 of his domestics' wages. This incident speaks volumes 
 in favour of Cromwell's heart, and of his benefactor's 
 natural disposition. 
 
 The health of Wolsey at length began to sink under 
 his anxieties and privations, and the king was informed 
 of his condition. Henry immediately sent his own 
 physician to attend upon him. It was soon clear to 
 Dr. Butt, (the physician's name) that unless he could 
 "minister to a mind diseased," his skill would be 
 fruitless ; and he accordingly informed the king that the 
 sunshine of the royal countenance would tend more to 
 restore the patient than all the drugs in his dominions. 
 
 " ' How doth yonder man, have you seen him ? ' 
 ' Yea, sir/ quoth he. 'How do you like him?' 
 quoth the king. ' Forsooth, sir,' quoth he, ' if you 
 will have him dead, I warrant your grace he will be 
 dead within these four days, if he receive no comfort 
 from you shortly, and mistress Anne.' ' Marry/ quoth 
 the king, ' God forbid that he should die. I pray you, 
 good master Buttes, go again unto him, and do your 
 cure upon him ; for I would not lose him for twenty 
 thousand pounds/ 'Then must your grace/ quoth 
 master Buttes, ' send him first some comfortable mes- 
 sage, as shortly as is possible.' ' Even so will I/ 
 quoth the king, ' by you. And therefore make speed 
 to him again, and ye shall deliver him from me this 
 ring for a token of our good will and favour towards 
 him (in the which ring was engraved the king's visage 
 within a ruby, as lively counterfeit as was possible to 
 be devised.) This ring he knoweth very well ; for he 
 gave me the same ; and tell him, that I am not offended 
 with him in my heart nothing at all, and that shall he 
 perceive, and God send him life, very shortly. There- 
 fore bid him be of good cheer, and pluck up his heart, 
 and take no despair. And I charge you come not from 
 him, until ye have brought him out of all danger of 
 death.' And then spake he to mistress Anne, saying,
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 175 
 
 ' Good sweetheart, I pray you at this my instance, as 
 ye love us, to send the cardinal a token with comfortahle 
 words ; and in so doing ye shall do us a loving pleasure.' 
 She being not minded to disobey the king's earnest 
 request, whatsoever she intended in her heart towards 
 the cardinal ; took incontinent her tablet of gold hang- 
 ing at her girdle, and delivered it to master Buttes, 
 with very gentle and comfortable words and commend- 
 ations to the cardinal. And thus master Buttes de- 
 parted, and made speedy return to Asher, to my lord 
 cardinal ; after whom the king sent doctor Clement, 
 doctor Wotton, and doctor Cromer the Scot, to consult 
 and assist master Buttes for my lord's health." 
 
 The influence of these cheering messages had very 
 soon a salutary effect on the cardinal's indisposition. 
 He was also allowed, for change of scene, to reside in 
 the palace of Richmond, which the king gave him, in 
 return for his magnificent present of Hampton Court, 
 and some of his furniture and other property was re- 
 turned to him. This was the last gleam of Henry's 
 kindness for his favourite. 
 
 His enemies, however, were apprehensive of the pos- 
 sible consequences of his proximity to the royal residence, 
 and therefore obtained an order for him to repair to his 
 see of York, which he had never once visited since his 
 consecration. The cardinal, accordingly, by slow jour- 
 neys, proceeded to his archbishopric, and sojourned at 
 Southwell, near Newark, while Cawood castle, the archie- 
 piscopal palace, was undergoing repair. For the first 
 time in his life, "VVolsey now conducted himself in a 
 manner worthy of a Christian clergyman, and gave to 
 church dignitaries " a right good example how they 
 might win men's hearts." He interested himself deeply 
 in the concerns of the poor, reconciled their dissensions, 
 and healed their resentments; and enforced the preaching 
 of sermons adapted in their tone to their wants and 
 feelings. To the gentry he was courteous and hospitable; 
 to the lower classes kind and charitable ; and, as a just 
 consequence, reaped the invariable reward of such con-
 
 1?6 BRITISH STATES3IEN-. 
 
 duct, in the love and gratitude of the one, and the un- 
 feigned respect and esteem of the other. This popularity 
 hastened, if it did not occasion, his final ruin. 
 
 The cardinal was preparing for his installation on the 
 morrow. About noon, just after he had himself dined, 
 a tumult was heard in the hall of Cawood castle. He 
 was informed by a domestic, that the hall was filled by 
 the armed retainers of the earl of Northumberland, his 
 former pupil, and of sir Walter Walsh e, one of the 
 gentlemen of the king's privy chamber, and that the tu- 
 mult was occasioned by his porter's refusing to give up 
 to the earl the keys of the castle, which he demanded in 
 the king's name. The cardinal affected to consider the 
 visit as one of hospitality, and meeting his supposed 
 guests on the great stairs, chided them for taking him 
 by surprise. The table was ordered to be replenished 
 with such provisions as the castle afforded. The earl, 
 confounded, and perhaps awed by his former habits of 
 reverence, at length made himself up to say, in a faint 
 and trembling voice, " My lord, I arrest you of high 
 treason." The cruelty of this last attack was too much 
 for the shattered frame of the cardinal it killed him. 
 
 The narrative of Cavendish, who stayed with his 
 master till his last moments, from this point to the con- 
 clusion, is full of deep moral pathos. Before Wolsey 
 set out for his trial, he was kept in close confinement in 
 his own castle ; and Cavendish alone was admitted to 
 hold communication with him. The cardinal, on seeing 
 him, fell into a passion of tears, which, says he, " would 
 have caused the flintiest heart to have relented and 
 burst for sorrow." His progress to Doncaster bore 
 testimony to the excellence of his brief archiepiscopal 
 administration : his domestics, and the poor along the 
 road, shed tears as he approached ; and on their knees 
 invoked blessings on his head, and vengeance on his 
 enemies. He was so weak and spirit-broken, that he 
 was obliged to rest eighteen days at Sheffield-park, where 
 he was most humanely treated by its owner, the earl of 
 Shrewsbury. He was there informed that sir William
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 177 
 
 Kingston, the constable of the Tower, was coming to 
 conduct him to London. On hearing the name of 
 " Kingston" Wolsey was overcome by grief and conster- 
 nation ; for his mind, weakened by disease and calamity, 
 and imbued with a portion of the superstitious spirit of 
 the age, instantly saw in the name the fulfilment of a 
 prophecy, that he should end his days near " Kingston ; " 
 on which account he never would pass through the town 
 of Kingston, that lay between London and his residence 
 at Esher. 
 
 The remainder of his story is quickly told. By great 
 care he was brought to the abbey of Leicester, which he 
 entered by torch-light, observing, with a true presenti- 
 ment, to the abbot and monks, who received him with 
 great reverence, " Father abbot, I am come hither to 
 lay my bones among you." He was immediately placed 
 in bed, whence he never rose. His death was expected 
 that night ; but he rallied in the morning, and foretold, 
 with the prophetic accuracy of the dying, that he should 
 expire at eight o'clock that evening. 
 
 " Upon Monday in the morning, as I stood by his 
 bed-side, about eight of the clock, the windows being 
 close shut, having wax lights burning upon the cup- 
 board, I beheld him, as me seemed, drawing fast to his 
 end. He perceiving my shadow upon the wall by his 
 bed-side, asked who was there ? ' Sir, I am here,' 
 quoth I. ' How do you ?' quoth he to me. ' Very 
 well, sir,' quoth I, ' if I might see your grace well.' 
 ' What is it of the clock ?' said he to me. ' Forsooth, 
 sir,' said I, ' it is past eight of the clock in the morn- 
 ing.' ' Eight of the clock?' quoth he, ' that cannot 
 be;' rehearsing divers times, ( eight of the clock, eight 
 of the clock; nay, nay;' quoth he at the last, ' it cannot 
 be eight of the clock : for by eight of the clock ye shall 
 lose your master : for my time draweth near that I 
 must depart out of this world.' With that master 
 doctor Palmes, a worshipful gentleman, being his chap- 
 lain and ghostly father, standing by, bade me secretly 
 demand of him if he would be shriven, and to be in a 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 readiness towards God, whatsoever should chance. At 
 whose desire I asked him that question. ' What have 
 you to do to ask me any such question ? ' quoth he, and 
 began to be very angry with me for my presumption ; 
 until at the last master doctor took my part, and talked 
 with him in Latin, and so pacified him." 
 
 Kingston entered, and bade him good morning. " I 
 tarry, master Kingston, but the will and pleasure of 
 God, to render unto him my simple soul into his divine 
 hand." After a pause, and after having explained the 
 fatal nature of his disease, dysentery, he addressed 
 himself again to Kingston as follows : 
 
 " f Master Kingston, my disease is such that I cannot 
 live ; I have had some experience in my disease, and 
 thus it is : I have a flux with a continual fever ; the 
 nature whereof is this, that if there be no alteration with 
 me of the same within eight days, then must either 
 ensue excoriation of the entrails, or frenzy, or else 
 present death ; and the best thereof is death. And as I 
 suppose, this is the eighth day : and if ye see in me no 
 alteration, then is there no remedy (although I may live 
 a day or twaine) but death, which is the best remedy 
 of the three.' ' Nay, sir, in good faith,' quoth master 
 Kingston, ' you be in such dolor and pensiveness, 
 doubting that thing that indeed ye need not to fear, which 
 maketh you much worse than ye should be.' Well, 
 well, master Kingston,' quoth he, ' I see the matter 
 against me how it is framed ; but if I had served God as 
 diligently * as I have done the king, he would not have 
 given me over in my grey hairs. Howbeit, this is the just 
 reward that I must receive for my worldly diligence and 
 pains that I have had to do him service ; only to satisfy 
 his vain pleasure, not regarding my godly duty. Where- 
 fore I pray you, with all my heart, to have me most 
 humbly commended unto his royal majesty j beseeching 
 him in my behalf to call to his most gracious remem- 
 brance all matters proceeding between him and me from 
 
 * The reader wilt perceive how closely Shakspeare has adhered to the 
 text of the chronicler. But this fidelity is characteristic of all his historical 
 plays.
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 179 
 
 the beginning of the world unto this day, and the pro- 
 gress of the same : and most chiefly in the weighty 
 matter yet depending (meaning the matter newly be- 
 gan between him and good queen Katherine) ; then shall 
 his conscience declare, whether I have offended him or 
 no. He is sure a prince of a royal courage, and hath a 
 princely heart ; and rather than he will either miss or 
 want any part of his will or appetite, he will put the 
 loss of one half of his realm in danger. For I assure 
 you I have often kneeled before him in his privy cham- 
 ber on my knees, the space of an hour or two, to per- 
 suade him from his will and appetite : but I could never 
 bring to pass to dissuade him therefrom. Therefore, 
 master Kingston, if it chance hereafter, you to be one 
 of his privy-council, as for your wisdom and other 
 qualities ye are meet to be, I warn you to be well advised 
 and assured what matter ye put in his head, for ye 
 shall never put it out again. 
 
 " ' And say furthermore, that I request his grace, in 
 God's name, that he have a vigilant eye to depress this 
 new pernicious sect of Lutherans, that it do not increase 
 within his dominions through his negligence, in such a 
 sort, as that he shall be fain at length to put harness 
 upon his back to subdue them ; as the king of Bohemia 
 who had good game, to see his rude commons (then 
 infected with Wickliffe's heresies) to spoil and murder 
 the spiritual men and religious persons of his realm ; the 
 which fled to the king and his nobles for succour against 
 their frantic rage ; of whom they could get no help of 
 defence or refuge, but (they) laughed them to scorn, 
 having good game at their spoil and consumption, not 
 regarding their duties nor their own defence. 
 
 " ' Master Kingston, farewell. I can no more, but 
 wish all things to have good success. My time draweth 
 on fast. I may not tarry with you. And forget not, I 
 pray you, what I have said and charged you withal : 
 for when I am dead, ye shall peradventure remember 
 my words much better.' And even with these words 
 he began to draw his speech at length, and his tongue to 
 N 2
 
 180 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 fail ; his eyes being set in his head, whose sight failed 
 him. Then we began to put him in remembrance of 
 Christ's passion ; and sent for the abbot of the place to 
 anneal him, who came with all speed, and ministered 
 unto him all the service to the same belonging ; and 
 caused also the guard to stand by, both to hear him 
 talk before his death, and also to witness of the same; 
 and incontinent the clock struck eight, at which time 
 he gave up the ghost, and thus departed he this present 
 life." 
 
 He expired, as he had predicted, as the clock struck 
 eight, on the 28th of November, 1530, in the 60th year 
 of his age. 
 
 It is not easy, such is the force of the compassion 
 that the sight of the sufferings of fallen greatness awakes 
 in our bosoms, to regain the calm impartiality which 
 the dignity and use of biography, and the interests of 
 of truth and justice, require. But our task of reproba- 
 tion is rendered the less difficult, by having been in a 
 great degeee anticipated ; for we have endeavoured to 
 hold up Wolsey to the moral gaze of the reader as a 
 man selfish, vain-glorious, mean, haughty, and inordin- 
 ately ambitious ; as a statesman, arbitrary, self-centred, 
 and unprincipled ; and as a churchman arrogant and 
 dissolute. It remains, therefore, but to direct the 
 reader's attention to the merits and less unfavourable 
 points of Wolsey 's character, and to those circumstances 
 which may be deemed palliative of his vices and failings. 
 The ends which Wolsey had in view throughout his 
 career were many of them laudable, and few of them 
 blamable : so that, if we consider them only without 
 taking the means he employed into account, we shall 
 arrive at the conclusion that he is well entitled to the 
 admiration of posterity. On the other hand, he was 
 ever regardless of the means through whose agency he 
 attained, or might attain, the object of his ambition : so 
 that if our estimate of his claims to our favoruable suf- 
 frages be determined by them alone, without locking to 
 the end he may have had in view, his memory will le
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 181 
 
 justly regarded with detestation. In the outset of his 
 career, we saw him fraudulently apply the funds of his 
 college to a use different from that for which they were 
 intended ; but then, it might be said, his end was to 
 adorn and dignify that college by ornamenting its chapel 
 with a tower. He simulated and dissimulated, and 
 fawned himself into power ; but then he was urged by 
 the infirmity of noble minds, ambition, and would wield 
 that power advantageously for his country. He involved 
 England in constant war, regardless of its true interests, 
 and of the real grandeur of his master ; but then his 
 end was the popedom, and, like the cardinal Amboise, 
 he persuaded himself that when he had reached that 
 summit of his ambition, he would promote the welfare 
 of his native country, and evince his gratitude to his 
 sovereign. He oppressed and pillaged the poorer and 
 defenceless monks ; but it was only to encourage liter- 
 ature and check immorality. He was rapacious, but 
 not to hoard ; profuse, but only in order that he might 
 support the dignity becoming his station. Arbitrary 
 laws checked the freedom of the lower orders in the 
 most ordinary occurrences of life ; but the end was pub- 
 lic order, and their own good. And if he levied heavy 
 loans and benevolences, and imposed taxes without the 
 consent of parliament, it was to prevent his great designs 
 for the general weal from being abandoned before their 
 beneficial results were made manifest. 
 
 In this spirit have his more zealous admirers endea- 
 voured to vindicate his conduct, forgetful that the same 
 sort of reasoning would furnish an apology for the foulest 
 outrages upon the rights of a free people that are re- 
 corded in history. The best apology that can be offered 
 for the personal vices of Wolsey was his lowly origin 
 and defective moral education, and consequent absence 
 of true dignity of character. To these may be ascribed 
 his love of ostentatious pomp, and vindictiveness * in his 
 
 * His treatment of sir Amias Paulet, and his allowing his resentment to 
 aid in causing the death of Buckingham, are in themselves examples of the 
 vindictiveness of Wolsey's temper. But there are others of a still more 
 ignoble cast, such as the unrelenting rigour with which he persecuted the 
 
 N 3
 
 182 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 prosperity, his meanness in the reverse of his fortunes, 
 and the absence of the 
 
 " High disdain from sense of injured merit," 
 
 and of the 
 
 " Unconquerable will, 
 And courage never to submit or yield," 
 
 which have flung somewhat of the glory of the " Arch- 
 angel ruined " over the fall of the haughty Strafford. 
 
 The best apology for the arbitrariness of his govern- 
 ment is the disposition of his master, who, relieved by 
 his death from one that " often kneeled before him for 
 three hours together, to persuade him from his will and 
 appetite/' became daily more ferocious, tyrannical, and 
 blood-thirsty, affording a striking contrast in favour of 
 Wolsey's ascendency and administration. Had the car- 
 dinal had the inestimable advantage of a sound moral 
 education, and, as a consequence, had his ambition been 
 directed by a spirit more worthy of the true dignity of 
 human nature, his labours might have conferred incal- 
 culable benefits on his country ; for he lived in an age 
 which his enlightened views far outstepped, and which 
 presented an ample and fruitful soil for the employment 
 of his various and splendid abilities. To him, however, 
 England is indebted for the first notion of a vigorous 
 police of a simple and regular administration of jus- 
 tice. The superiority of her navy also is much in- 
 debted to his sagacity in directing the attention of 
 Henry VIII. to the " empire of the sea;" and, notwith- 
 standing his questionable principles of economy, his 
 name should be held in respect as one of the earliest 
 cultivators of our commercial pre-eminence. In him 
 literature and learned men ever found a generous and 
 a munificent patron ; and the College of Physicians to 
 this day bears testimony to his well-intentioned zeal in 
 
 poet-laureate Shelton, for inditing of some stupid satirical lines on the 
 cardinal's birth and pompous bearing, and his imprisonment of one John 
 Roo, the author of a " disguising" enacted by the young lawyers of Gray's 
 Inn, which, though written upwards of twenty years, gave offence to 
 Wolsey by its allusion to state affairs.
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 183 
 
 the improvement of medical science, and through it of 
 the general well-being. 
 
 To conclude, had the moral man been less defective, 
 Wolsey might have been regarded as a benefactor of his 
 species ; as it is, regard to truth compels us to say, in 
 the words of his biographer " Here is the end and fall 
 of pride and arrogancy." 
 
 K 4
 
 184 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 CRANMER. 
 
 14891555. 
 
 THOMAS CRANMER, the first archbishop of Canterbury 
 that " made a defection from the papal chair," was the 
 son of a gentleman of " right ancient family*" in Not- 
 tinghamshire, and was born in Aslacton, in that county, 
 on the 2d of July, 1489- He received his early edu- 
 cation at what we may call the grammar-school of his 
 native village, under a " rude and severe parish clerk, 
 of whom he learned little, and endured much ;" a cir- 
 cumstance that may help to explain to us much of the 
 timid flexibility of his character in after-life. At the 
 age of fourteen he was entered of Jesus College, Cam- 
 bridge, of which he in time became a fellow, and where 
 he continued for sixteen years, a laborious student in 
 the learning usually taught in the universities, and in the 
 classic and sacred literature, which, by means of the lately 
 invented art of printing, and the zeal of Erasmus, were 
 just then making their way into our schools and colleges. 
 Though he had devoted three years of this course of read- 
 ing to the study of the Scriptures, it should seem that he 
 was not originally intended for the church ; for he is said 
 to have excelled in the more profane accomplishments 
 of a gentleman of that age, such as hunting and hawk- 
 ing ; and he forfeited his fellowship by marrying shortly 
 after he had taken his degree of master of arts. The 
 Reformation had not yet received such countenance in 
 England where the celibacy of the clergy was, long 
 after its adoption, more or less strictly insisted upon 
 as to admit of the marriage of an ecclesiastic ; nor did 
 Cranmer possess the boldness of temper necessary to 
 him who, unsupported by wealth or family influence, 
 would take the lead in setting established rules and 
 usages at defiance. The death of his wife, however, 
 
 * Strype's Memorials of T. Cranmer. which we have chiefly followed in 
 the text.
 
 ARCHBISHOP CBANMER. 185 
 
 within a year after his marriage, enabled him to resume 
 his fellowship ; he having, in the interim, filled the 
 common lectureship of Magdalen, then Buckingham, 
 college, an office not incompatible with the state of 
 wedlock. From this period he appears to have directed 
 his views towards the church as a profession, encouraged, 
 no doubt, by his deservedly high university reputation. 
 In 1523 he received the degree of doctor in divinity; 
 and soon after was appointed to the theological lec- 
 tureship of his own college, and examiner of candidates 
 for holy orders. The gentle affability of his manners, 
 his moderation and disinterestedness, and the extent of 
 his erudition, made Cranmer to be universally esteemed 
 by all whom his new offices brought him in contact 
 with ; and he probably might have spent the remainder 
 of his life in the privacy of his college more congenial 
 with his own retiring and studious disposition than the 
 bustle and excitement of those momentous events which 
 have made him a subject of history but for one of 
 those accidents which occur in the career of every man 
 who rises eminently above his fellows. 
 
 In 1529 the " sweating sickness" having broken out 
 in Cambridge, Cranmer retired to Waltham Abbey in 
 Essex, to the house of a Mr. Cressy, whose sons were 
 his pupils at the university. It happened that the king, 
 Henry VIII., then returning from a progress which 
 he had made accompanied by Anne Boleyn, soon after 
 the adjournment of the legatine commission on the 
 matter of the divorce to Rome, at this time spent a 
 night at Waltham. His suite, as usual, was billeted in 
 the different houses in the neighbourhood by the cus- 
 tomary authorities; hia secretary, Gardiner, and his 
 almoner, Fox, being allotted to Mr. Cressy's residence, 
 where they met Cranmer at supper. The conversation 
 turned upon the then absorbing topic of public con- 
 versation, the king's divorce, and Cranmer was pressed 
 for his opinion. He replied, that it appeared to him 
 the better and speedier mode, both to appease the king's 
 conscience and to compel the pope into acquiescence,
 
 186 
 
 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 would be to take the opinion of the learned of Europe 
 on the main question " Whether a man may marry 
 his brother's wife or no ?" by the authority of the 
 Scriptures and the canon law. If the divines of the 
 several universities throughout Christendom approved 
 of the king's marriage with Catharine, his remorses 
 would of course cease: if, on the other .hand, they 
 viewed the matter in the same light with Henry, and 
 declared the marriage null and void, the pope would 
 find it difficult to refuse the solicitation of so great a 
 monarch, and must needs give judgment in his favour. 
 Henry was delighted with the proposal on its being 
 next day communicated to him, and sent eagerly for 
 Cranmer to come to court, observing, in his usual coarse 
 appositeness of expression, " The man has got the sow 
 by the right ear." This favourable impression was 
 confirmed by the proofs of good sense and learning 
 which Cranmer gave in his conference with the king 
 on the feasibility of the plan which he had proposed 
 at Waltham. He was commanded to put his argu- 
 ments in favour of the divorce in writing ; appointed 
 one of the royal chaplains ; and placed in the family 
 of Thomas earl of Wiltshire, father of the ill-fated 
 Anne Boleyn. He was now considered a " rising 
 churchman," and as the probable successor to the 
 influence and grandeur of Wolsey, then in the first 
 stage of his fall. 
 
 Having finished his treatise on the divorce, which 
 is mainly directed against the pope's power of granting 
 a dispensation for the marriage of Henry with his 
 brother's widow, Cranmer was employed by the king 
 as the most fitting instrument to carry his own scheme 
 into effect. The opinion of the learned on the main 
 question of the divorce which he had recommended 
 was ordered to be taken under his own inspection. He 
 began his mission at his own university, but met with 
 indifferent success, chiefly, according to Burnet, because 
 his Lutheran bias was there best known : " besides 
 that, Anne Boleyn had, in the duchess of Alencon's
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMEB. 187 
 
 court (who inclined to the reformation), received such 
 impressions as made them fear that her greatness and 
 Cranmer's preferment would encourage heresy, to which 
 the universities were furiously averse ; and therefore 
 they did resist all conclusions that might promote the 
 divorce." He, however, met with better success in his 
 consultations with the divines of France, Italy, and 
 Germany, a majority of whom, by the force of his 
 arguments and of those of the other agents in the em- 
 bassy, and not improbably by bribes and promises when 
 fair means would not avail, was induced to give an 
 opinion favourable to the king's wishes. 
 
 Armed thus with the authority of the most learned 
 men of the age, Henry sought the papal sanction for his 
 intended divorce. The earl of Wiltshire, attended by 
 Cranmer and a council of divines, was deputed to lay 
 before the " Holy Father" the opinion of the chief 
 universities of Europe in his master's favour, and to 
 present to him a letter from the principal English 
 nobility, recommending their sovereign's cause to his 
 friendly decision, and threatening him with the loss 
 of the allegiance of England to the see of Rome in the 
 event of his refusal. At the same time Cranmer had 
 his treatise against the validity of the marriage with 
 Catharine presented to the pontiff, and offered to main- 
 tain its tenets, by fair argument, openly before the papal 
 council against all comers ; a proof of his zeal and bold- 
 ness, to which he was mainly indebted for his promotion 
 soon afterwards to the see of Canterbury. 
 
 Nothing could be more inopportune, both as to time 
 and place, to Clement than this embassy. He had just 
 been with the emperor at Bologna, successfully treating 
 for the restoration of those possessions, part of the 
 patrimony of St. Peter, which had been held by the 
 imperial troops since the memorable sack of Rome. 
 Fear as well as policy forbade his exciting the anger of 
 Charles, whose pride made him indignantly hostile to 
 the intended outrage upon the honour of his family. 
 On the other hand, he was well disposed towards
 
 188 BRITISH STATESMEN'. 
 
 Henry ; and but for his terror of the emperor's arms, 
 would gladly have adopted any expedient that might 
 relieve both from their anxiety and embarrassments. 
 As it was, he received the ambassadors most graciously, 
 and promised to act as favourably in their master's 
 affair as his conscience would permit. Cranmer he 
 complimented by appointing him his penitentiary for 
 England and Ireland. The ambassadors next proceeded 
 to explain their business personally to the emperor, but 
 were still more unsuccessful. Charles's anger burst 
 forth at the sight of the father of her whom he con- 
 ceived to be the immediate cause of his aunt's intended 
 degradation. To Cranmer alone would he pay the least 
 attention, haughtily imposing silence on the earl of 
 Wiltshire. " Stop, sir," said he ; " allow your col- 
 leagues to speak; you are a party in the cause." 
 Through his threats and influence, Clement soon after 
 issued an inhibitory brief on the whole proceedings ; the 
 proximate occasion, as the reader is aware, of the over- 
 throw of the papal supremacy in England. 
 
 Cranmer did not return to England with the earl of 
 Wiltshire, but proceeded to Germany, where he resided 
 for nearly two years, endeavouring to convince the Lu- 
 theran divines of the nullity of the king' marriage with 
 his brother's widow ; and conducting embassies with the 
 elector of Saxony and other protestant princes. But 
 he seems to have made but a slight impression on those 
 theologians ; chiefly, it is said, because they had strong 
 doubts of the purity of Henry's motives, and of the 
 sincerity of his alleged scruples. ' They, however, were 
 more successful in imbuing him with their principles of 
 religion, and in preparing him for the sacred office of 
 head of the protestant church of England. Though a 
 spark of the flame which Luther and the other reform- 
 ers had kindled in Saxony and Switzerland had reached 
 him in his cloister at Cambridge, prompting him to 
 make the Holy Volume the standard and the source, the 
 beginning and the end, of his faith ; it was to his con- 
 ferences at this time with the German divines, particu-
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 189 
 
 larly Osiander and Bucer, that he was indebted (not at 
 once, but by degrees,) for a rule of belief, scriptural in 
 its basis, and unalloyed by papal superstition. 
 
 The reputation of Cranmer would have been more 
 pure and unquestioned, had the first decided proof of 
 his conviction of the scriptural validity of the religious 
 tenets and practices of the reformers been one less in- 
 volving his personal gratification. As a catholic clergy- 
 man, he was archdeacon of Taunton, he was bound 
 by a vow of celibacy ; and though the study of the 
 gospel soon taught him that this obligation was un- 
 warranted, as being unscriptural, he should not have 
 violated it without an explicit renouncement of all al- 
 legiance to the see of Rome. But the permission to 
 marry seems to have been the great lure to many of the 
 clergy at this time to adopt the principles of the reform- 
 ation, and to have been eagerly embraced by them as a 
 compensation for the loss of their extravagant wealth 
 and privileges. Cranmer married a kinswoman of his 
 friend Osiander ; an act of rebellion to the papal juris- 
 diction, which, being unavowed, exposed him in the 
 sequel to many unworthy shifts and equivocations. The 
 first of these was consequent upon his consecration as 
 archbishop of Canterbury. 
 
 While Cranmer was advocating the king's divorce 
 to the German divines, and fitting himself to be the 
 guardian of the reformation in his native country, it was 
 notified to him that the judgment or the partiality of his 
 sovereign had appointed him to the metropolitan see of 
 England, then vacant by the death of archbishop War- 
 ham. Many circumstances united in recommending him 
 thus signally to the favour of Henry; none, perhaps, more 
 influentially than his zeal and boldness in maintaining 
 the royal cause at Rome and in the continental univer- 
 sities, and the friendship of Anne Boleyn and her family. 
 The first announcement, however, of his new dignity 
 alarmed more than it gratified him. By his marriage 
 he had, to all intents and purposes, rebelled against the 
 pope's authority ; and yet, as the king had not yet de-
 
 190 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 termined on severing for ever the English connection 
 with Rome, as archbishop of Canterbury, he should 
 solicit the usual bulls of consecration, and take the usual 
 oath of canonical obedience to the chair of St. Peter ; 
 acts, moreover, implying an observance of his vow of 
 celibacy. He hesitated : he perhaps resolved upon de- 
 clining the proffered honour. 
 
 " He would be great ; 
 
 Was not without ambition ; but without 
 
 The illness should attend it. What he would highly, 
 
 That would he holily." 
 
 He knew that to announce his marriage to Henry would 
 be fatal to his election ; for that monarch continued 
 till his last breath to enforce the observance of clerical 
 celibacy with the stake and halter. On the other hand, 
 rebel as he was in heart and deed to the usurped au- 
 thority of the bishops of Rome, how could he reconcile 
 it to his conscience to swear canonical obedience to that 
 authority, and thereby proclaim either the nullity of his 
 marriage or the violation of his vow ? In this dilemma 
 he had recourse to an artifice, which, as bishop Burnet 
 justly remarks, " agreed better with the maxims of 
 canonists and casuists than with Cranmer's sincerity 
 and integrity ; " namely, a protest made in the Chapter 
 House of St. Stephen, before four " authentica persona, 
 et testibus fide dignis," before consecration, in the ab- 
 sence and without the knowledge of the party most inte- 
 rested, that he did not intend, by his oath to the pope, 
 " to restrain himself from any thing to which he was 
 bound by his duty to God or the king, or from taking any 
 part in any reformation of the English church which he 
 might judge to be required." Having, in an inner apart- 
 ment, made this protestation, he was publicly consecrated, 
 took the oath of canonical obedience, and received the 
 papal pallium. The title of archbishop of Canterbury was 
 changed, after Henry had assumed to himself the eccle- 
 siastical supremacy, to that of primate and metropolitan 
 of all England. 
 
 It is not necessary to dwell upon the moral character 
 of this transaction. If such a protest be invested with
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRAN.MER. IQ1 
 
 any validity, oaths cease to bind, and truth and sincerity 
 in the affairs of life are no longer attainable. It cannot 
 be alleged, in palliation of this first deviation from the 
 strict path of rectitude, that it was the unavoidable 
 result of circumstances; for Cranmer was not, and 
 could not, be forced into the archiepiscopal chair ; and 
 therefore voluntarily entailed upon himself all the moral 
 consequences of his elevation. The truth is, want of 
 firmness was the " vicious mole " in Cranmer's cha- 
 racter. He was from nature virtuously inclined and 
 candid ; but he would be great, and could not resist 
 the opportunity. Such conduct produced its inevitable 
 results : it destroyed that consciousness of inflexible 
 dignity of purpose which is at once the offspring and 
 the safeguard of moral integrity. Cranmer felt that he 
 could not stand erect in the independence of an uncom- 
 promising spirit before his sovereign, and was thereby 
 reduced into an unworthy compliance with all the 
 caprices and vicious mandates of that sovereign's will. 
 Hence the equivocations and shifts, aud even perse- 
 cutions, in which he was made most unwillingly instru- 
 mental during the remainder of Henry's reign. And 
 thus 
 
 " The stamp of one defect 
 Being nature's livery, or fortune's star 
 His virtues else (be they as pure as grace, 
 As infinite as man may undergo) 
 Shall, in the general censure, take corruption 
 From that particular fault." 
 
 Henry had, at the instigation of Cromwell, on the 
 failure of his hopes of obtaining the papal sanction for 
 his divorce, renounced all allegiance to the see of Rome, 
 and constituted himself supreme head of the church 
 of England. It was, therefore, truly gratifying to him 
 to possess a primate so much after his own heart so 
 far as renouncing the pontifical authority was con- 
 cerned as Cranmer. He now resolved to make the 
 new archbishop, in virtue of his ecclesiastical office, pro- 
 nounce the marriage of Catharine null, and that which 
 he had lately concluded in private with Anne Boleyn
 
 192 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 valid ; and the issue of the former illegitimate, and that 
 of the latter, as a matter of course, to be lawfully begotten 
 in wedlock. A convocation was then sitting upon the 
 two main questions involved in the intended divorce. 
 Cranmer took his seat as head of the ecclesiastical body 
 in England, and demanded the votes. The result was 
 favourable to the king by large majorities. The arch- 
 bishop then craved the royal permission to examine and 
 determine the great cause of the divorce ; stating that 
 his conscience impelled him to the step, to avoid the 
 evils of a scandalous marriage, and of a consequently 
 doubtful succession. Henry, with farcical solemnity, 
 made a virtue of acceding to the request ; at the same 
 time reminding the primate that he was nothing more 
 than the principal minister belonging to the spiritual 
 jurisdiction of the crown, and that the sovereign had no 
 superior on earth, and was not subject to the laws of 
 any earthly creature. The subsequent proceedings, as 
 narrated by our historians, are well known. We shali, 
 therefore, merely quote Cranmer's own account of them, 
 in a letter (published by Mr. Ellis in the first series of 
 his historical collection), to the English ambassador at 
 the court of Charles, which, besides being less known to 
 the general reader, contains other interesting particulars. 
 After some prefatory complimentary remarks, he 
 goes on: " And fyrste as towchyng the small deter- 
 mynacioh and concludyng of the matter of devorse be- 
 twene my lady Kateren and the kyngs grace, whyche 
 said matter after the convocacion in that behalf hadde 
 determyned, and aggreed accordyng to the former con- 
 sent of the vniversities, yt was thought convenient by 
 the kyng and his lernyd councell that I shoulde repayre 
 unto Dunstable, whyche ys within iiij myles vnto Amp- 
 tell, where the said lady Kateren kepeth her howse, 
 and there to call her before me, to here the fynall sen- 
 tence in this said mateir. Notwithstanding she would not 
 att all obey thereunto, for whan she was by doctour Lee 
 cited to appear by a daye, she utterly refused the same, 
 sayinge that inasmoche as her cause was before the
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 193 
 
 pope she would have none other judge ; and therefore 
 would not take me for her judge. Nevertheless the 
 vmth daye of Maye, according to the said appoyntment, 
 I came vnto Dunstable, my lorde of Lyncolne beying 
 assistante vnto me, and my lorde of Wyncehester, &c. 
 with diuerse other lernyd in the lawe beying councillours 
 in the lawe for the king's parte : and soe these at our 
 commyng kept a courte for the apperance of the said 
 lady Kateren, when were examyned certeyn witnes 
 whyche testified that she was lawfully cited and called 
 to appere, whome for fawte of apperance was declared 
 contumax ; procedyng in the said cause agaynste her in 
 pcenam contumacium, as the processe of the lawe there- 
 unto belongeth ; whyche contynewed xv dayes after our 
 cummyng thither. And the morrow after Assension 
 daye I gave finall sentence therein, howe that it was in- 
 dispensable for the pope to lycense any such marieges." 
 The archbishop next proceeds to give an account of 
 queen Anne's coronation, but at too great length for our 
 pages. With respect to his having been present at her 
 marriage, which Mr. Hume, on the authority of lord 
 Herbert, erroneously asserts, he says, " But nowe, sir, 
 you may nott ymagyn that this coronacion was before 
 her mariege ; for she was maried muche about Sainte 
 Paule's daye last, as the condicion thereof dothe well ap- 
 pere by reason she ys nowe sumwhat bygg with chylde. 
 Notwithstanding yt hath byn reported thorowyte a greate 
 parte of the realme that I maried her ; whyche was 
 playnly false, for I myself knewe not thereof a forte- 
 nyght after yt was donne." 
 
 The remainder of this letter is curious, as showing 
 the cool indifference with which a constitutionally 
 humane man of the l6th century consigns to the stake 
 his fellow- creatures for doctrines which, it is to be 
 hoped for the honour of human nature, he then did not 
 believe, but for the denial of which he in the next 
 reign doomed others to the same horrible punishment. 
 " Other newyes have we none notable," he says, "but 
 that one Fryth, whyche was in the Tower in pryson, 
 
 VOL. i. o
 
 194 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 was appointed by the kyng's grace to be examyned 
 before me, my lordes of London, Winchester, and 
 Suffolk, my lord chancellour, and my lorde of Wylteshere, 
 whose opynion was so notably erroniouse, that we culde 
 not dyspache hym, but was fayne to leve hym to the 
 determynacion of his ordinarye, whyche ys the bishop 
 of London. His said opynyon ys of suche nature that 
 he thoughte it nat necessary to be beleued as an article 
 of our faythe, that there ys the very corporall presence of 
 Christe within the oste and sacramente of the alter, and 
 holdeth of this poynte muste (much) after the opynion 
 of Oecolampodious. And suerly I myself sent for hym 
 iij or iiij times, to persuade him to leve that his imagi- 
 nacion, but for all that we coulde do therein he woulde 
 not applye to any counsaile, notwithstandying nowe he 
 ys at a fynale ende with all examinacions ; for my lorde 
 of London hathe gyven sentanee, and delyuered hym to 
 the secular power, where he looketh euery daye to goo 
 unto the fyre. And there is also condempned with hym 
 one Andrew, a taylour, for the self same opynion." The 
 reader, perhaps, need not be reminded that both these 
 unfortunate men went " unto the fyre." 
 
 Henry had now been three years wedded to Anne 
 Boleyn, with as much of domestic felicity as his brutal 
 nature could permit his enjoying. During that time 
 the " new learning" (as the reformation doctrines were 
 then designated) had been silently diffusing itself, 
 chiefly by means of the influence indirectly exercised in 
 its favour, at the instigation of Cranmer and Latimer, 
 by the young queen. Cranmer had been an inmate of 
 the family of the earl of Wiltshire, and had there an 
 opportunity of acquainting himself with Anne Boleyn's 
 virtues and disposition, and of strengthening the predi- 
 lection for the Lutheran doctrines which she had early 
 acquired from the celebrated Margaret de Valois. In 
 annulling the king's former marriage, and pronouncing 
 the validity of his present, the archbishop felt he was 
 advancing the cause of the reformation. But Henry had 
 now conceived a new passion ; his affections for Anne
 
 ARCHBISHOP CBANMEB. 1Q5 
 
 had been effaced by the charms of Jane Seymour : the 
 former, therefore, must be got rid of, to make way on 
 the throne for her rival. A trial took place, and, as a 
 matter of course in this reign of base obsequiousness to 
 the most cruelly selfish of tyrants, guilty or innocent, 
 conviction and execution soon followed. 
 
 Cranmer had been staying at the archiepiscopal palace 
 at Croydon when Anne was arrested. The next day he 
 received the royal mandate to repair immediately to 
 Lambeth, with an injunction not to approach the pre- 
 sence till he was expressly desired. The message pro- 
 duced the effect for which it was intended : it intimidated 
 him, and thereby rendered him the more pliant instru- 
 ment of the king's pleasure. A letter which he addressed 
 to Henry the day after his being commanded to confine 
 himself to his palace will best explain his conduct and 
 feelings. We shall give it entire, as an elaborate 
 painting of his mind, and because it has been the 
 subject of much contrariety of opinion : those who 
 admire his character appealing to it as a proof of his 
 chivalrous fidelity and courage ; those who do not, 
 as a striking testimony of his time-serving timidity. 
 Probably the reader will arrive at the conclusion that 
 it neither deserves all the praises of the one,, nor all the 
 censures of the other ; and that its chief merit is its 
 cautious ingenuity. We quote from Burnet. 
 
 " Pleaseth it your most noble grace to be advertised, 
 that at your grace's commandment by Mr. secretary's 
 letters, written in your grace's name, I came to Lambeth 
 yesterday, and do there remain to know your grace's 
 farther pleasure. And forasmuch as, without your 
 grace's commandment, I dare not, contrary to the con- 
 tents of the said letters, presume to come unto your 
 grace's presence, nevertheless, of my most bounden duty, 
 1 can do no less than most humbly to desire your grace, 
 by your great wisdom, and by the assistance of God's 
 help, somewhat to suppress the deep sorrow of your 
 grace's heart, and to take all adversities of God's hand 
 both patiently and thankfully. I cannot deny but your, 
 o 2
 
 196 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 grace hath great causes, many ways, of lamentable heavi- 
 ness ; and also that, in the wrongful estimation of the 
 world, your grace's honour of every part is highly 
 touched (whether the things that commonly.be spoken 
 of be true or not), that I remember not that ever Al- 
 mighty God sent unto your grace any like occasion to 
 try your grace's constancy throughout, whether your 
 highness can be content to take of God's hand as well 
 things displeasant as pleasant. And if he find in your 
 most noble heart such an obedience unto his will, that 
 your grace, without murmuration and overmuch heavi- 
 ness, do accept all adversities, not less thanking him 
 than when all things succeed after your grace's will and 
 pleasure, nor less procuring his glory and honour ; then, 
 I suppose your grace did never thing more acceptable 
 unto him since your first governance of this your realm. 
 And, moreover, your grace shall give unto him occasion 
 to multiply and increase his graces and benefits unto 
 your highness, as he did unto his most faithful servant 
 Job ; unto whom, after his great calamities and heavi- 
 ness, for his obedient heart, and willing acceptation of 
 God's scourge and rod, addidit ei Dominus cuncta du- 
 plicia. 
 
 " And if it be true that is openly reported of the queen's 
 grace, if men had a right estimation of things, they 
 should not esteem any part of your grace's honour to be 
 touched thereby, but her honour only to be clearly dis- 
 paraged. And I am in such a perplexity, that my mind 
 is clean amazed : for I never had better opinion in 
 woman than I had in her ; which maketh me to think 
 that she should not be culpable. And again, I think 
 your highness would not have gone so far, except she 
 had surely been culpable. Now I think that your grace 
 best knoweth, that, next unto your grace, I was most 
 bound unto her of all creatures living. Wherefore, I 
 most humbly beseech your grace, to suffer me in that, 
 which both God's law, nature, and also her kindness 
 bindeth me unto ; that is, that I may, with your 
 grace's favour, wish and pray for her, that she may
 
 ARCHBISHOP CBANMEIt. 1 97 
 
 declare herself inculpable and innocent. And if she be 
 found capable, considering your grace's goodness towards 
 her, and from what condition your grace of your only 
 mere goodness took her, and set the crown upon her 
 head, I repute him not your grace's faithful servant 
 and subject, nor true unto the realm, that would not 
 desire the offence without mercy to be punished, to the 
 example of all other. And as I loved her not a little, 
 for the love which I judged her to bear towards God and 
 his gospel; so, if she be proved culpable, there is not 
 one that loveth God and his gospel that ever will favour 
 her, but must hate her above all other ; and the more 
 they favour the gospel, the more they will hate her : for 
 there never was creature in our time that so much slan- 
 dered the gospel. And God hath sent her this punish- 
 ment, for that she feignedly hath professed this gospel 
 in her mouth, and not in heart and deed. And though 
 she have offended so, that she hath deserved never to be 
 reconciled unto your grace's favour, yet Almighty God 
 hath manifestly declared his goodness towards your 
 grace, and never offended you. But your grace, I am 
 sure, acknowledged! that you have offended him. Where- 
 fore I trust that your grace will bear no less entire 
 favour unto the truth of the gospel than you did before : 
 forasmuch as your grace's favour to the gospel was not 
 led by affection unto her, but by zeal unto the truth. 
 And thus I beseech Almighty God, whose gospel hath 
 ordained your grace to be defended of, ever to preserve 
 your grace from all evil, and to give you at the end 
 the promise of his gospel. From Lambeth, the 3d day 
 of May." 
 
 [Cranmer had written, but not despatched this letter, 
 when he was summoned to a conference' by the lord 
 chancellor and other peers, who stated to him the facts 
 which, they said, could be proved against the queen. 
 He therefore, in a postscript, added as follows] : 
 
 " After I had written this letter unto your grace, my 
 lord chancellor, &c. sent for me to come unto the star- 
 chamber ; and there declared unto me such things as 
 o 3
 
 198 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 your grace's pleasure was they should make me privy 
 unto. For the which I am most boumlen unto your 
 grace. And what communication we had therein, I 
 doubt not but they will make the true report thereof to 
 your grace. I am exceedingly sorry that such faults can 
 be proved by the queen as I heard of their relation. 
 But I am, and ever shall be, your faithful subject. 
 
 " Your grace's 
 " Humble subject and chaplain, 
 
 " THOMAS CAJMTUAKIENSIS." 
 
 The writer of this letter, it is plain, only awaits the 
 king's commands as to the side on which he should 
 array himself ; though it is equally evident that his in- 
 clination went to assert the innocence of her to whom, 
 next to his sovereign, he " was most bound of all crea- 
 tures living/' He had pronounced the divorce between 
 Henry and Catharine, and thereby was a great instru- 
 ment in destroying the papal supremacy in England. 
 He had confirmed, by his archiepiscopal authority, the 
 marriage of Anne ; and by so doing, he was persuaded, 
 favoured the spread of gospel truth and pure religion. 
 He was now commanded to declare that that marriage 
 f< was, and always had been, null and void ; " and that, 
 as a necessary consequence, his god-child, the princess 
 Elizabeth, should be no longer reputed legitimate. He 
 dared not hesitate. After one of those solemn mockeries 
 of the forms of justice, designated trials, which abound 
 in this monstrous reign, Cranmer, " having God alone 
 before his eyes," dissolved the marriage of Henry and 
 Anne Boleyn. A similar, but fortunately less bloody, 
 farce was performed a very few years after, when the 
 king wished to get rid of Anne of Cleves. In obedience 
 to the faintly expressed wishes of her disgusted husband, 
 the archbishop and chancellor, at the head of a deputa- 
 tion, humbly solicited their gracious master's permission 
 to submit to his consideration a subject of great delicacy 
 and importance. Henry, having, he said, " no other 
 object in view than the glory of God, the welfare of the
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 199 
 
 realm, and the triumph of truth," consented, on the 
 condition that they would not propose any thing to him 
 unreasonable and unjust. The subject was then cau- 
 tiously broached, as arising solely from their own con- 
 scientious scruples ; and, in perfect keeping with the 
 farcical hypocrisy of the whole proceeding, the marriage 
 was declared null and void, because " the king had been 
 deceived by the exaggerated accounts of Anne's beauty, 
 and had not given his inward assent to the contract," 
 And yet this man was popular with the mass of his 
 subjects, and is not without his eulogists even in the 
 present day ! 
 
 But it was not alone in the matter of wife-murder, 
 or other civil exercises of the royal prerogative, that, 
 during this reign, the will or caprice of the monarch 
 was the sole law and measure. His 
 
 " Sic volo, sic jubeo ; stet pro ratione voluntas," 
 
 extended even to the consciences of his subjects. By 
 an arrogant exertion of power, not to be paralleled in the 
 annals of oriental despotism, Henry made his own theo- 
 logical tenets such as they were then, or "hereafter 
 might be " the exclusive test and standard of religious 
 orthodoxy. From his dictum there was no appeal nor 
 subterfuge : to question his infallibility was a crime be- 
 yond the pale of mercy ; to dissent from his doctrines 
 was to incur the extremity of punishment in this world, 
 and, according to his infallible canonists, an eternity of 
 torment hereafter. And his was not the age of martyrs. 
 He had two favourite principles, or dogmata of belief, 
 which he maintained with all the unrelenting intolerance 
 of a theologian of the sixteenth century, and with all 
 the jealousy of a tyrant in every age ; and, we should 
 add, with all the despotic inconsistency of his character : 
 these were, his ecclesiastical supremacy, and the 
 catholic doctrine of the " real presence," as explained 
 by himself in his controversy with Luther. By the 
 former he attached to his person the great promoters of 
 the " new learning," of which Cranmer and Latimer 
 o 4
 
 200 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 were the heads ; by the latter he conciliated the adherents 
 of the ancient worship, of which Gardiner, bishop of 
 Winchester, one of the craftiest and ablest men of his 
 time, was the acknowledged chief. The court and 
 nation were pretty equally divided between these two 
 great antagonist parties ; not that their wayward and 
 imperious master allowed any open manifestation of 
 their differences, which might imply a freedom of 
 opinion, and thence an undue infringement on the royal 
 authority. He himself vibrated between them ; and by 
 alternately exciting their hopes and fears, insured to him- 
 self the most servile submission of both ; for, as we 
 before observed, this was not an age of martyrs or high- 
 minded patriots. 
 
 The services, however, and the moderation and ami- 
 able temper of Cranmer obtained for him the largest 
 share of the king's friendship ; unhappily for himself, as 
 it compelled him to be a chief instrument in the perse- 
 cutions of that reign. These persecutions were con- 
 ducted with a stern, and, if we might say of so serious 
 a subject, with a ludicrous impartiality. To assert the 
 papal supremacy was treason ; to deny the papal doc- 
 trine of the eucharist was heresy : the one was punished 
 by hanging ; the other with the faggot. Thus papists 
 and protestants were equally obnoxious to the law, should 
 their zeal lead them to an open assertion of all their 
 respective tenets. Henry, to use his own language, 
 could thus " snouch the stiff mumpsimus of the one 
 (the Romanists), or the busy rumpsimus of the other 
 (the reformers)," at pleasure. And it did please him 
 betimes ; though, owing, we have no doubt, to the 
 moderate councils of Cranmer, not to such an extent as 
 might be expected from his despotic and sanguinary 
 temper. Two days after the execution of Cromwell, 
 who first suggested to his master the policy of renoun- 
 cing the 'papal supremacy, and who was but the too 
 faithful minister of his will, three catholics, coupled with 
 three protestants, were dragged on the same hurdle from 
 the Tower to Smithfield, and there executed ; the former
 
 ARCHBISHOP OBANMEB. 
 
 being hanged and quartered as traitors, for denying the 
 king's ecclesiastical pre-eminence ; the latter being con- 
 sumed by fire, as heretics, for questioning the royal doc- 
 trine of the eucharist. 
 
 But of all the persecutions for heresy of this reign, 
 none excited greater interest than that of Lambert, a 
 schoolmaster in priest's orders, for heresy, that is, 
 for denying the catholic doctrine of the real presence. 
 Lambert had been imprisoned for the same offence by 
 Cranmer's predecessor in the see of Canterbury, but 
 had escaped punishment by that prelate's timely death. 
 Nothing intimidated, he persisted, after his release, in 
 the open avowal of his opinions, till having heard a 
 sermon on the subject'from Dr. Taylor, afterwards bishop 
 of London, he presented that dignitary with an elabo- 
 rately written protest, under eight heads or reasons, 
 against the Romanist doctrine of transubstantiation. 
 Taylor handed the paper to Dr. Barnes, who maintained 
 the Lutheran consubstantiation theory of the eucharist ; 
 but as this differed again from the Wycliffism of Lambert, 
 the latter was cited by Barnes to answer for his heresy 
 before the archbishop. Cranmer, on the accused being 
 brought before him, endeavoured to reason or to intimi- 
 date him into a recantation ; but Lambert, instead of 
 yielding, appealed from the metropolitan to the king, as 
 head of the church. Henry eagerly embraced so favour- 
 able an opportunity for displaying his theological learning, 
 and for asserting his ecclesiastical supremacy. A day 
 was publicly fixed for the unusual contest ; and at the 
 appointed hour, the king appeared on his throne, with 
 all his judges, ministers, bishops, and officers of state, 
 to enter the lists with the schoolmaster. The proceed- 
 ings are told with dramatic effect by Mr. Hume. For 
 five hours the unfortunate Lambert had to contend with 
 the harangues of Henry, Cranmer, Gardiner, and five 
 other leaders of both the old and the new learning. At 
 the end of this time he was asked by the exulting mon- 
 arch whether he was " satisfied ? Wilt thou live or 
 die ? " The exhausted and intimidated culprit had no
 
 202 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 reply, but that he threw himself on the royal mercy. 
 " Thou must die then ! thou must die ! for I will not 
 he the patron of heretics," was the humane answer. 
 Lambert met his fate with firmness ; and not the least 
 remarkable circumstance of his story is, that Taylor, 
 Barnes, and Cranmer, the chief instruments in bringing 
 him to the stake, -were all three burned a few years 
 afterwards for the very same doctrine, for -which they 
 were, moreover, then strongly, and perhaps not unjustly, 
 suspected of having a predilection. 
 
 In fairness to the men of this age of persecution, it 
 should be borne in mind that intolerance was then, and 
 for more than a century after, the common law of 
 Christendom. Toleration was a t^rm scarcely heard of 
 in theory, and wholly unknown in practice. The magis- 
 trate of the sixteenth century doubted as little the justice 
 of consigning a heretic to the flames, as the magistrate 
 of our own more enlightened times of sentencing the 
 impugner of established opinions to gaol or transport- 
 ation, or the utterer of a forged note to the gallows. 
 The pretext the prevention of crime by terror of its 
 consequences, and the preservation of the integrity of 
 the body corporate, by (to use the favourite metaphor of 
 the times) " the amputation of the diseased member " 
 was the same in both cases, excepting indeed that the 
 zeal of the former was incited by an additional motive 
 derived from his religion. The conduct of men is 
 mainly determined by the circumstances in which they 
 are placed ; among which circumstances, the opinion of 
 contemporaries is, perhaps, the most influential. Public 
 opinion was not outraged by the dreadful punishments 
 inflicted on those from whom the odious charge of heresy 
 repelled the current of public sympathy. Uniformity of 
 theological doctrines was a phrase then synonymous with 
 the very existence of religion itself ; and those doctrines 
 and that uniformity it was considered to be the solemn 
 duty of the government to maintain with unrelenting 
 vigilance. Where any relaxation of this stern discipline 
 occurred, it was owing to temperament and animal feel-
 
 ARCHBISHOP CBANMEB. 203 
 
 ing, rather than to a judicious estimate of the value of 
 religious liberty. At all times and in every class of 
 society are to be found individuals so constitutionally 
 humane, so nervously apprehensive of pain in themselves, 
 so tremblingly sympathetic with the appearance of suffer- 
 ing in others, that not even religious fanaticism can 
 make them unrelentingly cruel. Whenever power is 
 vested in the hands of such persons, a negative toleration, 
 that is, a diminution of, or a refraining from, persecu- 
 tion will prevail ; for the actions of individuals, it will 
 be almost invariably found, receive their tone and colour- 
 ing much more from the general temper or feelings of 
 the heart, than from the decisions of the understanding. 
 Philip Melancthon was a man of this class, and Reginald 
 Pole and Tonstal, and so probably were sir Thomas 
 More and Cranmer : not so Luther, Calvin, Knox, and 
 the other leading reformers on the one hand, nor the 
 Gardiners or Bonners on the other. One fact should be 
 received in palliation of all : the great truth, so pregnant 
 with charity towards our fellow-men, that belief is inde- 
 pendent on the will, was not in those times dreamt of, 
 and even at present is not so constantly borne in mind 
 as the interests of humanity would dictate. Mistaking 
 the expression of belief for the act itself, the members of 
 each sect or party endeavoured to force the reception of 
 what their own sincerity, by a very natural illusion, 
 convinced them nothing but malignant obstinacy could 
 prevent from being at once eagerly adopted ; and thus 
 intolerance was masked, even to its zealots, under the 
 title of checking and punishing wilful error, and of advanc- 
 ing the. cause of truth. Before, therefore, we condemn 
 the actors in those dramas of persecution which stain 
 the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, let us con- 
 sider whether there may not possibly be some of our 
 own laws and usages of so intolerant and sanguinary a 
 character as to require hereafter the lenient interpretation 
 of a more enlightened and thence more humane posterity. 
 While we reprobate the barbarous and unchristian prac- 
 tices of our fathers, it might be as well for us to examine
 
 204 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 whether there is any leaven of them still lurking among 
 ourselves. Let us, in a word, take care, while we are 
 indignantly pointing out the beams which blinded the 
 vision of those who have preceded us in the career of 
 human improvement, that some motes of prejudice and 
 uncharitableness may not obstruct our own. The fires 
 of Smithfield are certainly extinguished for ever ; but 
 is the spirit of intolerance that kindled them altogether 
 allayed ? 
 
 The abolition of the papal supremacy necessarily 
 placed the tenure of the hierarchy on a new footing. 
 As yet no prelate had been consecrated without the 
 pope's bull, which bound him to recognise the see of 
 Rome as the canonical head of the church. But this 
 recognition had been lately declared treason ; and there 
 was no precedent for the dependency of the ecclesiastical 
 jurisdiction on the will of the civil magistrate. Henry 
 was much puzzled as to the course he should follow in 
 this entirely new order of things. The arbitrariness of 
 his temper led him to push his newly-assumed prero- 
 gative to its utmost limits ; but in doing so he would 
 be acting in the very teeth of those principles which 
 he had vehemently maintained in his controversy with 
 Luther. From this embarrassment he was relieved by 
 the address and boldness of his vicar-general Cromwell, 
 and by the pliant example of Cranmer. The body of 
 the clergy maintained that the church had inherited 
 from her divine founder a power underived from, 
 and uncontrollable by, the civil authority, to preach 
 and administer the sacraments, and enforce her own 
 discipline by her own weapons and influence. Cranmer, 
 on. the other hand, contended, somewhat strangely, when 
 we recollect that he was then Archbishop of Canterbury, 
 that the king alone, having the need of spiritual as well 
 as civil officers, had the right to appoint them. In the 
 time of the apostles, he added, the people appointed, 
 " because they had no Christian king ;" but occasion- 
 ally accepted such as might be recommended by the 
 apostles '' of their own voluntary will, and not for any
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 205 
 
 superiority that the apostles had over them :" in the 
 appointment of bishops and priests, as in that of civil 
 officers, some ceremonies are to be used, " not of 
 necessity, but for good order and seemly fashion :" 
 nevertheless, " he who is appointed bishop or priest 
 needeth no consecration by the scripture, for election or 
 appointment thereto is sufficient." " This," he says, 
 with his usual caution, " is mine opinion and sentence 
 at this present ; which, nevertheless, I do not teme- 
 rariously define, but refer the judgment thereof to your 
 majesty." 
 
 But Cromwell, in whom as vicar-general the king's 
 ecclesiastical jurisdiction was vested, was not content 
 with the silent or rather implied submission of the 
 clergy which the archbishop's influence had induced. 
 At the suggestion of two of his creatures, he adopted an 
 expedient, by which the obedience of the church dig- 
 nitaries would be pushed to the quick. In the plenitude 
 of his authority, as the king's ecclesiastical minister, he 
 suspended the power of all the prelates and ordinaries 
 in the realm, on the ground of a general visitation about 
 to be made by the " supreme head of the church." 
 Those bishops and priests who had claimed an authority 
 by divine right would thus be compelled to produce 
 their proofs ; or, if they did not resign their offices, to 
 acknowledge the crown to be the sole origin of spiritual 
 jurisdiction, by petitioning it for the restoration of 
 their usual authority. As might be expected from his 
 Erastian tenets, Cranmer led the way, and submitted 
 with becoming humility. This example was followed 
 by the clergy, to whom he had addressed, as metropolitan, 
 a circular letter on the subject ; and, after a month's 
 suspension, each bishop received a separate commission 
 from the king " to do whatever belonged to the office 
 of bishop" during the royal pleasure. The reason as- 
 signed for granting the indulgence added to its degra- 
 dation. It was stated in the commission restoring the 
 episcopal power, not that the government of bishops was 
 necessary for the church, but that the king's vicar-general,
 
 206 BRITISH STATES3IEX. 
 
 on account of the multiplicity of business with which he 
 was loaded, could not properly attend to every thing in 
 person (in sua persona expediendum non sufficiet*}, 
 and therefore should be provided with assistance, to 
 guard against the inconveniences of delay and interrup- 
 tion." 
 
 But Cranmer well knew that the mere assuming of 
 the ecclesiastical supremacy by the crown would little 
 advantage the cause of pure religion so long as those 
 strong holds of the Romish superstition, the monasteries 
 and priories, continued in existence. He accordingly 
 with zeal seconded the counsels of Cromwell for their 
 suppression. The proposal was greedily snatched at by 
 Henry, to whom it opened the prospect of inexhaustible 
 wealth, as well as an ample field for the exercise of 
 power. His courtiers, ministers, and the lords of his 
 council eagerly joined in the chase ; for the spoils of 
 the clergy promised a rich harvest to their rapacity, 
 having been held out as the probable reward of their 
 zeal by the artful policy of the vicar-general. Spoliation 
 and plunder thus became the order of the day : the 
 monasteries were suppressed ; their corruptions and 
 crimes exposed to public odium ; and their funds and 
 lands applied to transforming the hungry minions that 
 spanieled a tyrant's heels into the founders of still flou- 
 rishing, wealthy, and noble families. But such an ap- 
 plication, though in the end, perhaps, one of the most 
 prudent that could have been adopted, was very dif- 
 ferent from that contemplated by Cranmer. That 
 prelate saw with pain and dismay Henry contenting 
 
 * The commission may be seen in Burnet's records to the first volume of 
 his History of the Reformation, under the title, " Licentia Regia conccssa 
 Domino episcopp ad exercendam jurisdictionem episcopalem." The pas- 
 sage referred to in the text runs thus : " Quia tamen ipse Thomas Crom- 
 well nostriset hujus regni Anglia tot et tarn arduis negotiis adeo pra;pe- 
 ditus existit, quod ad omnem jurisdictionem nobis, uti Supreme Capite 
 hujusmodi competentem, ubique ; locorum infra hoc regnum nostrum 
 prajfatum, in his quje moram commode non patiuntur, aut sine nostrorum 
 subditorum injuria differri non possunt, in sua persona expediendum, non 
 sutnciet. Nos tuis in hac parte supplicationibus humilibus inclinati, et 
 nostrorum subditorum commodis consulere cupieutes. Tibi vice nostras," 
 &c- 
 
 The bishop erroneously insinuates that Bonner only received this bunii- 
 liatingly couched licence : it was the general form.
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 207 
 
 himself with the slaughter of the carcass, which he left 
 as booty to his followers to fatten upon. He knew that 
 those spoliators were perfectly indifferent to every thing 
 but their own aggrandisement ;. and that for them the 
 principles of the reformation would have no charms, 
 unless their profession were accompanied by an increase 
 of wealth and worldly distinction. Never yet did the 
 world witness a crew more despicably rapacious than 
 the courtiers of Henry VIII. It was, therefore, with 
 deep regret that Cranmer beheld the alienation of the 
 church property in a manner so different from that 
 which he had recommended, and which Henry had 
 promised to act upon. He proposed that on the new 
 endowments a certain number of cathedrals should be 
 erected, and that in every cathedral there should be 
 provision made for readers of divinity, Greek, and 
 Hebrew ; and for " a great number of students to be 
 both exercised in the daily worship of God, and trained 
 up in study and devotion, whom the bishop might 
 transplant out of this nursery into all parts of his 
 diocess." We cannot but lament with the archbishop, 
 that his excellent design had been abandoned for such 
 an unworthy use as gorging the reptiles of a palace ; 
 though we are well aware of the benefits which have 
 emerged from a beginning of so little promise. 
 
 The measure to the effecting of which the influence 
 of the archbishop was next directed was one of still 
 greater importance to our religion. To the immortal 
 honour of Cranmer be it stated that he was the first to 
 place the Bible in the hands of the laity of England ; 
 an act which will atone for a thousand instances of his 
 pusillanimity, and which will ever recommend his name 
 to our gratitude. Henry had promised on the sup- 
 pression of Tyndal's version of the Old and New Tes- 
 tament in 1530, that he would provide a new trans- 
 lation by the " joint labour of great, learned, and 
 catholic persons." Cranmer, during his residence in 
 Germany, had witnessed the extraordinary success 
 which the reformers derived from the diffusion of the
 
 208 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 sacred volume, and had resolved upon its introduction 
 into his native country. Scarcely was he installed, 
 therefore, in the see of Canterbury in 1533, than he 
 reminded the king of his promise ; and by his repeated 
 importunity in person, and by inducing the convocation 
 to petition and Cromwell to support the prayer, he at 
 length obtained the royal injunction to have the Bible 
 (Mathew's edition) placed in all parish churches, with 
 the liberty to every man to read it at pleasure, " pro- 
 vided he did not disturb the preacher in his sermon, nor 
 the officiating clergyman during service." In two years 
 after (in 1539) the indulgence was extended from the 
 church to private nouses under some restrictions : care 
 being at the same time taken, with the characteristic 
 jealousy of the Tudors, to inform the people that the 
 liberty which they enjoyed was not a right to which 
 they possessed any claim, but a favour granted " of the 
 royal liberality and goodness." 
 
 Thus was the way cleared for the reformation 
 in England. By abolishing the papal supremacy and 
 making the crown the source of all ecclesiastical 
 authority, the clergy were stripped of the power of 
 resisting the further innovations of the sovereign, and 
 made wholly dependent on his will. By the suppres- 
 sion of the monasteries they were, moreover, de- 
 prived of the means of appealing to the prejudices of 
 the people, unless in the dangerous character of rebels. 
 By distributing the church possessions among his courtiers 
 and gentry, Henry bound them to the new order of 
 things by the ties of property, hope, fear, and gratitude ; 
 and by disseminating the Bible among the middle 
 classes, he prepared them for the reception of gospel 
 truth, by enabling them, of themselves, to distinguish 
 between it and papal error. The favour of the work- 
 ing classes and lower orders was not yet directly ap- 
 pealed to. 
 
 While these important proceedings were in progress, 
 two events occurred productive of much uneasiness to 
 Cranmer, the fall and execution of Cromwell, on a
 
 ARCHBISHOP CBANMER. 209 
 
 charge of treason, and the beheading of Queen Catherine 
 Howard for incontinency. With the vicar-general 
 Cranmer had been in habits of the closest confidence and 
 friendship, and had, as we have seen, used his influence 
 in aid of the protestant doctrines. Cromwell was not at 
 heart a friend of the reformation ; but, being hated and 
 despised by the adherents to the old worship, he was 
 thrown, by a spirit of revenge, among the leaders of the 
 new learning. During his official career, Cranmer's 
 councils were, by his support, made paramount in the 
 cabinet, and the religious tenets of the court approxi- 
 mated more and more to those of the Lutheran reformers. 
 But after this fall, as the archbishop had foreseen, the 
 opinions of Henry, acted upon by Gardiner and the 
 other Romanist ministers, retrograded to the doctrines of 
 the treatise by which he had won the title of " Defender 
 of the Faith." It was, therefore, with dismay that Cran- 
 mer heard of his friend's arrest and impeachment ; for he 
 had a true presentiment of its consequences to religion, 
 which augmented the anguish of personal sorrow. He 
 wrote to the king on the subject, and dwelt much on the 
 fallen minister's zeal and diligence in his service, " and 
 in discovering all plots as soon as they were made : that 
 he had always loved the king above all things, and served 
 him with great fidelity and success : that he thought 
 no king of England ever had such a servant : upon that 
 account he had loved him, as one that loved the king 
 above all others. But," he adds, with his usual timidity 
 and caution, " if he was a traitor, he was glad it was 
 discovered. But he prayed God earnestly to send the 
 king such a counsellor -in his stead, who could and would 
 serve him as he had done." * Knowing the danger as 
 well as inutility of attempting to arrest the hand of 
 Henry once raised in vengeance, he prudently avoided 
 all allusion to the particular charge on which Cromwell 
 
 * " This letter," says Burnet, " shows both the firmness of Cranmer's 
 friendship, and that he had a great soul, not turned by the change of men's 
 fortunes to like or dislike them as they stood or declined from their great- 
 ness." The letter, the reader will probably think, far less shows Cran- 
 mer's firmness or greatness of soul than the bishop's remarks evince the 
 wish to invest him with them. 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 had been arrested, and confined himself to a recapitula- 
 tion of his former services. Having thus indulged his 
 better feelings, he went along with the stream, and 
 voted for the second and the third reading of the bill of 
 attainder without trial, of which atrocious instrument 
 of despotism, by a kind of retributive justice, Cromwell 
 was the first victim, as he had been the first inventor. 
 Though there was much base ingratitude and cruelty 
 on the part of his master in the fate of Cromwell, it was 
 with justice but little lamented by the nation at large ; 
 for even his ignominious death could not allay the re- 
 collection that he had been at all times the artful coun- 
 sellor and willing instrument of that master's tyranny 
 against others. 
 
 The king was on one of his progresses, accompanied 
 by his young queen, Catherine Howard, when one 
 Lascelles w r aited on Cranmer, and acquainted him with 
 facts, on the authority of his sister, a servant in the 
 Norfolk family, which tainted the honour of the royal 
 bed. The information could only excite regret and 
 terror. It is painful to a humane mind to be the instru- 
 ment of another's disgrace or misery ; and yet the arch- 
 bishop felt that his loyalty as well as his safety would be 
 compromised, and might be endangered, by his keeping 
 the secret to his own bosom. He communicated the 
 matter to the chancellor and others of the council ; and 
 they agreed with him, that though it might be equally 
 dangerous to conceal as to discover it to the king, the 
 latter course would, under all circumstances, be the most 
 prudent. As the subject was one of great delicacy, 
 Cranmer broke it to the unsuspecting husband in a long 
 letter, in which the manner in which the information 
 was obtained is stated with anxious minuteness, lest it 
 should be inferred that he was a seeker of scandal or a 
 spy upon the proceedings of the palace. An enquiry was 
 the result of this painful intelligence : incontinency 
 before marriage was proved against the Lady Catherine, 
 and criminality after inferred. The opportunity of shed- 
 ding blood was too tempting and feasible to be resisted :
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 211 
 
 on the 1 3th February, 1 542, she was beheaded on Tower- 
 hill, asserting her conjugal fidelity, while she confessed 
 her maiden delinquencies. 
 
 It would be needless to enquire what share Cranmer 
 had in framing and sanctioning the (c Institution " and 
 the fc Erudition " of " a Christian Man," or whether the 
 fc bloody " law of the six articles was wholly owing to 
 the intrigues of Gardiner and the Romanist party. Dur- 
 ing Henry's reign, the royal standard of orthodoxy 
 would have been received by the clergy of the new 
 learning, even though it were still more popish in its 
 doctrine ; and by the clergy of the old learning, even 
 though it had issued from the protestant league of 
 Smalcald. He was infallible in his own estimation, and, 
 what was more, possessed the will and the power to 
 prove himself so in that of others. The " Institution," 
 and the " Erudition," which was known by the name of 
 the king's book, are chiefly remarkable for the ultra- 
 catholicism of their theology, and for the earnestness 
 with which they inculcate the doctrine of passive obe- 
 dience.* They were the standard of orthodoxy till the 
 accession of Edward VI., when the reformation party 
 became possessed of the management of affairs, and all 
 persons were compelled to subscribe to them. 
 
 The statute of the six articles was, however, still 
 more trying to the feeling and conscience of the friends 
 of pure religion, particularly to Cranmer, who employed 
 all his address, and a degree of boldness that was unusual 
 to Aim, to have it softened down, if not defeated. One 
 of those articles, indeed, touched him to the quick : it 
 declared the marriages of priests to be invalid, and com- 
 pelled such persons in orders as might have been living 
 with their wives to repudiate them, making subsequent 
 cohabitation felony. The reader is aware, that during 
 
 * A sermon of Cranmer is quoted by Strype, in which it is inculcated 
 that " though the magistrates be evil and very tyrants against the com- 
 monwealth, and enemies to Christ's religion, yet ye subjects must obey in 
 all worldly things as the Christians do under the truth, and ought so to do 
 as long as he commsndeth them not to do against God." The same doc- 
 trine was preached by the Romanist party, as may be seen in Gardiner's De 
 Vera Obedientia. 
 
 p 2
 
 212 BRITISH STATESSIEN. 
 
 his residence in Germany, Cranmer had married a kins- 
 woman of Osiander, a Lutheran divine. He never pub- 
 licly avowed his marriage, as the canon which imposed 
 celibacy on the priesthood had not been abrogated, and 
 the king was well known to be averse from his clergy 
 entering into a state of wedlock. His wife, however, 
 lived with him in private, and bore him several children. 
 His first opposition to the atrocious statute, which he 
 knew would bear on him with such terrible severity, 
 was made in the committee of spiritual peers, whose 
 labours terminated in the framing of the six articles. 
 That committee he divided for eleven days on every 
 article, till Henry grew so impatient, that he came 
 down in person, and awed the prelates (excepting the 
 bishop of Salisbury, who " continueth a lewd fool,") 
 by his " goodlie learning " into unanimity. As the 
 danger came nearer, Cranmer's efforts and ingenuity to 
 avert it were doubled ; and at last he ventured to submit 
 his reasons in writing to the " superior judgment of the 
 king's grace," against the obnoxious articles, particularly 
 that which insisted on the celibacy of the clergy. On 
 this sore point he suggested the expediency of a royal 
 declaration, that would be equivalent to a suspension of 
 that part of the statute, tiR the lawfulness of the mar- 
 riage of priests should be debated in the universities, on 
 the hazardous condition, that, if judgment were given 
 against his opinion, its advocates should suffer death ; 
 if in its favour, that the canonical prohibition, and the 
 article founded on it, should be no longer enforced, and 
 that the matter should be left in future to every man's 
 own conscience.* Henry bore patiently with this un- 
 
 * The delivery of the MS. treatise, containing the archbishop's objections 
 to the six articles, was accompanied by a ludicrous accident, illustrative of 
 the customs of the times. The bearer of it, Cranmer's secretary, " must 
 needs go to the Southwark side of the river, in a wherry, to look on a bear- 
 baiting that was near the river, where the king was in person. They that 
 were in the boat leaped out, and left the poor secretary alone there. But 
 the bear got into the boat, with the dogs about her, and sunk it." The
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMEB. 213 
 
 usual contradiction to his will, but remained inexorable. 
 Cranmer next induced Melancthon to write the king a 
 long letter, for the purpose of subduing his obstinacy ; 
 but also without avail. Henry was rooted to his pur- 
 pose ; and the archbishop saw with dismay, that his 
 marriage was rendered void in law, and that death might 
 be the penalty of his continuing to harbour his wife and 
 children. Having despatched them in haste to their 
 friends in Germany, and written a dutiful apology to 
 the king for his presumption in for a moment differing 
 in opinion from him, Cranmer artfully revived a design 
 of a conference between the English and continental 
 divines, that had been agitated for the last few years in 
 the council. After what had passed, to persist in calling 
 in question any of the articles might have cost him his 
 head ; but he wisely conceived that foreigners might 
 with safety impugn them under the appearance of advo- 
 cating their own doctrines ; and that the king might 
 thus be induced to relax from his obstinacy. The con- 
 ference was accordingly held ; but Henry was not 
 diverted a tittle from his opinions ; and till his death 
 Cranmer was obliged to keep his wife and children on 
 the Continent, without daring to avow the validity of his 
 marriage. 
 
 The slippery footing on which the law of celibacy 
 placed Cranmer with respect to his further efforts for the 
 advancement of the reformation, made him confine him- 
 self very much to the immediate business of his see 
 during the remainder of this reign. The court, as 
 usual, was divided by the overt intrigues of the two 
 great religious parties who struggled for the king's fa- 
 vour, and who looked up to Gardiner, and the Duke of 
 Norfolk, and the archbishop and the Seymours, as their 
 leaders. As the question at issue was now mixed up 
 
 ingredient in the fare which she received in return, on her progresses. There 
 were not less than twelve bears killed for her amusement at Kenilworth, 
 at her now immortal visit there. When Shakspeare became a proprietor of 
 the Globe theatre in Southwnrk, the performances were forbidden on those 
 days in which the " game of bear-baiting, and like pastimes, which are 
 maintained for her majesty's pleasure," was practised. 
 
 p 3
 
 214 BRITISH STATESMEN'. 
 
 with polemics, it need scarcely be added, that each an- 
 tagonist regarded the other with intense and implacable 
 hatred. Many attempts were made to deprive Cranmer 
 of the royal countenance ; but Henry had too much con- 
 fidence in his loyalty, and too grateful a recollection of 
 his many delicate services, to be affected either by 
 the insinuations or complaints of those whom he knew 
 to be the archbishop's personal enemies. The preben- 
 daries of Canterbury brought a charge against him, but 
 were themselves arraigned, some imprisoned, and all 
 obliged to beg the accused prelate's pardon. The member 
 for Bedfordshire had the boldness, in the house of com- 
 mons, to accuse Cranmer of heresy; but the king sent the 
 '' varlet" a peremptory message, that if he did not im- 
 mediately acknowledge his error, he should be made an 
 example to his fellows. On another occasion, Henry 
 had consented to the committal of the archbishop ; but, 
 on reflection, changed his mind, and sent him a ring as a 
 testimony of his unaltered friendship. The readers of 
 Shakspeare are aware of the subsequent incidents : 
 Cranmer was bidden to the council, at the door of which 
 " the primate of all England was kept waiting an hour 
 among the footmen and servants," according to the testi- 
 mony of an eye-witness : the king unexpectedly appeared 
 among them : Cranmer produced the ring, and there 
 followed " a wonderful confusion." The king com- 
 manded them to be reconciled to the archbishop, whom 
 " he protested by the faith he owed to God, laying 
 his hand on his breast, that if a prince could be obliged 
 by his subjects, he was by the primate ; and that he took 
 him to be the most faithful subject he had, and a person 
 to whom he was most beholden." With this striking 
 proof of the sovereign's affection for the archbishop, the 
 overt malice of his enemies ceased till the reign of Mary. 
 Cranmer attended his royal patron in his last mo- 
 ments. Being asked if he wished to confer with any 
 clergyman, now that he was on the approach of death, 
 Henry answered, " Only with Cranmer, and not with 
 him as yet. I will first repose myself a little (he could
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 215 
 
 not bear the thought of dying), and as I find myself I 
 will determine." When the archbishop arrived, he found 
 him speechless, but not altogether insensible. He asked 
 him to give him some intimation of his reliance on the 
 merits of his Redeemer. The king grasped his hand 
 strongly, bowed his head, and expired.* By his will 
 Cranmer was appointed one of the council of regency 
 during the minority of the young Edward. 
 
 The usual consequences of a despotic reign manifested 
 themselves immediately on the death of Henry. So long 
 as he lived, the firm pressure of his iron hand had, as 
 we have seen, enforced a level monotony of obedience. 
 That removed, a recoil took place in the public mind 
 that was felt at once in our civil and ecclesiastical insti- 
 tutions. Scarcely had his remains been consigned to the 
 tomb, when his more sanguinary laws were abrogated, 
 his anomalous treasons and felonies effaced from the 
 statute book, and his proclamations stripped of their 
 legislative validity. The king's book, " The Erudition of 
 a Christian Man," ceased to be the standard of religious 
 orthodoxy ; for the young prince and his two uncles, 
 and Cranmer, his most influential counsellors, were 
 strongly imbued with the spirit of Protestantism, and 
 had determined on separating still further the Church of 
 England from the Catholic worship. But these beneficial 
 changes were but the bright morning of a cloudy day : 
 the public mind was in a state of high excitement, and 
 restless ambition renewed its outrages against law and 
 reason. An oligarchy, with its factious concomitants, 
 succeeded to a despotism : one successful monopolist 
 of the power which Henry, by his will, had equally de- 
 volved upon a council of regency, of not less than sixteen 
 persons, followed another to the scaffold ; to-day the 
 protector signed the death-warrant of his own brother, 
 
 * It has been truly observed by Clarendon, that, except in the matter of 
 the papal supremacy, Henry lived and died a sturdy catholic. Besides 
 receiving the sacrament according to the rites and interpretation of the 
 Roman Catholic church, he willed a sum of money for masses for his soul, 
 perhaps thinking it prudent to be on the safe side on the purgatory doc- 
 trine. 
 
 p 4
 
 216 
 
 BRITISH STATESMEN". 
 
 to-morrow he shares that brother's fate ; a no distant 
 day sees Dudley, the successful usurper of the young 
 monarch's prerogatives, atoning with his life for his law- 
 less presumption. All this while, however, it is consoling 
 to observe that the doctrines of the reformation were, un- 
 der the vigilant care of Cranmer, advancing with a certain, 
 because steady and moderate, progress; and, by the close 
 of the short reign of Edward the Sixth, had become so 
 deeply rooted in the affections of the more enlightened, 
 wealthy, and thence influential classes, that they have 
 to this day continued the inalienable patrimony of the 
 English people. A brief exposition of the principles by 
 which the archbishop and his associates were guided, in 
 effecting this great religious revolution, will, besides being 
 more suitable to our design than a mere chronological 
 narrative of each proceeding in which Cranmer was en- 
 gaged in the interval between the death of Henry and 
 the accession of Mary, we should hope, impress the 
 reader with a due conviction of their wisdom and mode- 
 ration. Cranmer's first step was to petition the new king 
 for a licence to continue in the exercise of his ecclesiastical 
 jurisdiction, on the ground that, as his archiepiscopal 
 authority was derived solely from the crown, it neces- 
 sarily expired with the death of the granting monarch. 
 The example of the metropolitan was, as a matter of 
 course, followed by the other prelates ; and their depend- 
 ence on, and their obedience to, the will of the execu- 
 tive by tlu's means revived and strengthened. 
 
 Having thus precluded the evil consequences of re- 
 fractory colleagues, the archbishop next established a 
 royal visitation, chiefly for the purpose of enforcing his 
 Book of Homilies, just then composed, and Erasmus's 
 paraphrase of the New Testament, to be read after mass 
 in every church on Sundays and holidays. The object 
 was to familiarise the people with the language and in- 
 junctions of the Gospel delivered in the vernacular 
 tongue, and by that means to make the introduction of 
 more striking changes in the ancient practices and wor- 
 ship, which he was then maturing in his own bosom, less
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 217 
 
 abrupt and repugnant to established prejudices. " The 
 greatest part of the ignorant commons" (we quote Burnet, 
 vol. ii. p. 35.) " seemed to consider their priests as a 
 sort of people who had such a secret trick of saving their 
 souls as mountebanks pretend in the cure of diseases ; and 
 that there was nothing to be done but to leave themselves 
 in their hands, and the business could not miscarry. 
 This was the chief basis and support of all that super- 
 stition which was so prevalent in the nation. The other 
 extreme was of some corrupt gospeller, who thought if 
 they magnified Christ much, and depended on his merits 
 and intercession, they could not perish, which way soever 
 they led their lives. In the Homilies, therefore, especial 
 care was taken to rectify both these errors." Between 
 these two extremes Cranmer steered with great address 
 and moderation ; on the one hand, dwelling on the 
 boundless merits of Christ's sufferings ; on the other, 
 insisting that, to partake of them, repentance and purity 
 of heart were indispensably necessary. The catholic 
 ceremonies were left untouched, and only the more gross 
 superstitions, such as driving out the devil by sprinkling 
 holy water and lighting consecrated candles, animad- 
 verted upon and forbidden. The use of images was not 
 yet discouraged, their worship alone being prohibited*, 
 as contrary to the mandates of Scripture. 
 
 Having thus cautiously felt his way, the primate 
 proceeded to lop off, by little and little, the superstitious 
 excrescences that had disfigured for so many ages the 
 purity and simplicity of the Christian worship, and to 
 engraft gradually in their stead those doctrines and 
 ceremonies which are still the boast of the church of 
 England. Orders were issued to all the bishops to 
 abolish, in their respective dioceses, the custom of bear- 
 ing candles on Candlemas-day, of receiving ashes on 
 Ash Wednesday, and of carrying palms on Palm Sunday; 
 and the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper was com- 
 manded to be thenceforth administered in both kinds, 
 
 * " Among Cranmer's papers I have seen several arguments for a moderate 
 use of images." Burnet, ii. p. 13.
 
 218 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 and in the English language. The mass * was, at the 
 same time, celebrated as usual in Latin ; and care was 
 taken to guard against offensive comments on the catho- 
 lic belief of the real presence in the eucharist. 
 
 A great progress was thus unobtrusively and unre- 
 sistingly made in favour of the new doctrines, and 
 Cranmer so far emboldened to proceed with his other 
 projected innovations. Aware of the deep root which 
 the ancient worship had taken in the minds of the large 
 majority of the people, clergy as well as laity, and of 
 the firm hold which the catholic discipline had in the 
 two universities, he encouraged by all means in his 
 power the influx of foreign divines and professors into 
 England. They were assured of a hospitable asylum 
 in his own palace till otherwise provided for ; and were 
 only called upon, in return, to aid by their knowledge 
 and eloquence the common cause of the reformation. 
 Among the divines and preachers who, in consequence 
 of this tempting invitation, flocked to the archiepis- 
 copal residence at Lambeth, the most distinguished for 
 their learning, ability, and zeal, were the celebrated 
 John Knox, and Bucer and Peter Martyr, at the time 
 heads of the church and university of Strasburg. 
 Knox was appointed one of the royal chaplains, and 
 was licensed and encouraged to preach every where 
 throughout the kingdom, having had the honesty to re- 
 fuse a benefice ; " because," says Strype, " many things 
 were worthy of reformation in England without the 
 reformation, whereof no minister did or could discharge 
 his conscience before God." Bucer, who was remark- 
 able among theologians for a sort of metaphysical acute- 
 ness, or rather, for a scholastic and disingenuous -j- 
 subtlety, was appointed to lecture on divinity in 
 Cambridge ; while his friend, Peter Martyr, an honester 
 
 * Cranmer celebrated a high mass for the repose of the soul of Francis I., 
 who died a few months after Henry. 
 
 t Bucer thought that, for avoiding contention, and for maintaining peace 
 and quietness in the church, somewhat more ambiguous words should be 
 used, that might have a respect to both persuasions concerning the presence. 
 But Martyr was of another judgment, and affected to speak of the Sacra- 
 merit with all plainness and perspicuity. Strype, ii. 120.
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 219 
 
 and bolder man, was elected to the theological chair of 
 the other university. By these able and learned men, 
 the continental doctrines of the eucharist, free will, and 
 justification were taught to the rising generation of 
 churchmen in England. 
 
 A catechism " for the singular Profit and Instruc- 
 tion of Children and Young People," was Cranmer's 
 next measure. In this " easy, but most useful work,*" 
 the archbishop strongly leans to the ancient doctrines ; he 
 teaches the catholic theory of the body and blood of 
 Christ in the eucharist ; " exhorts much to confessions, 
 and the people's dealing with their pastors about their 
 consciences ;" and, contrary to his precepts in the former 
 reign, maintains the divine institution of priests and 
 bishops. A much more important work soon followed 
 the Book of Common Prayer, compiled chiefly from 
 the Romish ritual, which is in the main similar to that 
 in use at the present hour, and which almost imme- 
 diately received the sanction of Edward and his parlia- 
 ment. The church of England having now by law its 
 own liturgy, rites, and ceremonies, and its separation 
 from the papal communion being thence legislatively 
 consummated, it only remained for Cranmer to win for 
 that liturgy the sympathy and support of public opinion. 
 In his conduct in this delicate affair, as we have pre- 
 mised, we shall find much reason to admire his discre- 
 tion, excellent common sense, and knowledge of the 
 springs of human action. 
 
 It may be stated as a general rule, that it is essential 
 to the permanent success of religious, not less than of 
 political, revolutions, that they be effected with rapidity ; 
 that is, that the promulgation of the new doctrines be so 
 much in accord with the public aspirations of the time 
 being, however undefined, vague, or indeterminate 
 these may appear, that they may seem to be but their 
 echo. Wycliffism was stifled in its birth by the me- 
 phitic exhalations which for centuries had polluted the 
 
 * Burnet, who says the catechism was first made in Latin by another, 
 but revived in translation by Cranmer.
 
 220 BRITISH STATESMEN'. 
 
 religious atmosphere of England ; in other words, it 
 was not responded to by public sympathy, it was too 
 much in the van of the general intelligence, it breathed 
 no congenial atmosphere. On the other hand, it can- 
 not fail to strike the philosophic observer, that the 
 very fact of theological innovations spreading rapidly 
 among a rude people, is a positive proof that reason 
 had little or no share in their reception. The progress 
 of truths, which now appear to be a part of our very 
 being, was for a time slow and gradual. They were 
 first discussed and adopted by a few as valuable acces- 
 sions to their knowledge. The circle of diffusion becomes 
 in time wider and wider : they are now received by 
 many because they are the opinions of those whom they 
 look up to ; by others, from imitation ; by some, because 
 long familiarity makes their evidence appear intuitive. 
 Their reception thus in time grows universal, and seems, 
 like the acquired perceptions of vision, to be a primary 
 law of our nature. But this slowness and gradualness is, 
 it is evident, incompatible with the essential rapidity of 
 a great religious revolution, like that which gives such 
 celebrity to the reigns of Henry and his immediate suc- 
 cessors. Generations would perish without partici- 
 pating in the benefits of the reformation, if they were 
 not at once made glaringly manifest to the dullest ap- 
 prehensions of the people, instead of relying on the 
 intrinsic truth of its principles and their consequent ge- 
 neral, but too tardy, diffusion. This fact could not escape 
 the sagacity of the friends of the new doctrines. The 
 question then for them was to facilitate the progress 
 of those doctrines, by presenting them as tangibly as 
 possible to the common sense of the nation ; while the 
 errors and absurdities of the old worship were no less 
 forcibly exposed to what may be designated the sensuous 
 understanding of the vulgar. To men so illiterate as 
 our fathers at this time, it would be a vain waste of 
 breath to endeavour to win them to the protestant tenets 
 by controversial sermons on their Gospel purity, or by 
 tracts proving with learned logic the antiscriptural basis
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 221 
 
 of the faith in which they had been bred up. They 
 should be first made to see and feel the truth of the one, 
 and see and feel the corruptions of the other. The 
 Horatian remark, that 
 
 : Segnius irritant animus demissa per aurcs ; 
 Quam qua? sunt oculis sub. 
 Ipse sibi tradit spectator." 
 
 Quam qua? sunt m-ulis subjecta fidelibus, et qua; 
 Ips 
 
 applies universally ; and the success which attended the 
 labours of Cranmer and his associates proves their having 
 acted upon it. The principle thus asserted by the poet 
 pervades all their measures, and indeed almost all the pro- 
 ceedings of the promoters of the English reformation. 
 
 In the former reign, as we have all read, great 
 exertions were successfully made in exposing to the 
 senses of the multitude the pretended miracles and pious 
 impostures of the clergy. The miraculous crucifix, 
 the " Rood of Grace," as it was called, which had 
 attracted generations of pilgrims to Boxley in Kent, 
 and which had proved one of the most lucrative of the 
 monkish inventions, was taken to pieces at St. Paul's 
 cross, and the several springs and wheels by which the 
 head, mouth, and eyes of the image were made to move 
 miraculously, according to the payment of the votaries, 
 exposed to the public gaze, touch, and ridicule. " There 
 was a huge image of our Lady at Worcester that was 
 had in great reverence/' it having performed an orthodox 
 number of marvellous cures of both soul and body. It 
 was stripped before the people, and found to be the 
 statue of a bishop, " the which caused huge laughter to 
 the beholders thereon." Another famous imposture was 
 discovered at Hales, in Gloucestershire ; a phial con- 
 taining the blood of Christ, taken from his body at 
 Jerusalem. Its miraculous nature was shown by its 
 becoming invisible to any one in a state of mortal sin, 
 and continuing so till the criminal had expiated his 
 offences by masses and offerings. The sacred blood 
 was discovered to have been the blood of a duck, which 
 was weekly killed in private for the purpose by two 
 monks in the secret of the cheat; and the visibility of
 
 222 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 the fluid was found to depend on turning the phial, one 
 side of which was transparent, the other opaque. When 
 rich pilgrims arrived, they were sure to be shown the 
 dark side ; and, " having drained them of all that they 
 brought with them, then they consoled them by turning 
 the clear side outward, who upon that went home very 
 well satisfied with their journey, and the expense they 
 had been at." * 
 
 By these exposures to the eye and touch of the mul- 
 titude, the feeling of fraud and corruption in their reli- 
 gious institutions was insensibly reduced, and the public 
 mind prepared for the reception of newer and purer 
 doctrines. To diminish still more the reverence of the 
 people for the ancient worship, plays and farces were 
 frequently performed in the churches, of which the 
 invariable subject was the vices of the clergy, and the 
 absurdities of the established superstitions. The effect 
 of this great engine of ridicule would appear incredible 
 to a modern frequenter of the drama. A semi-mali- 
 cious relish of all jests at the expense of the great and 
 the reverend is a part of our national character, and 
 was, in this case, the more freely encouraged by the 
 friends of the reformation, because the less ceremonial 
 character of the protestant service exempted it from the 
 caricatures by which the pageants and mummeries of 
 the catholic worship were held up to public laughter. 
 Thus we see the sensuous character of the religion of 
 the church of Rome, by which she bound to herself, 
 during centuries of intellectual darkness, the allegiance 
 of the Christian world, tended ultimately to her degrad- 
 ation and downfall. 
 
 Bearing steadily in mind the principle which we 
 have endeavoured to explain, Cranmer proceeded in his 
 great undertaking. He knew that it was essential to 
 the reasonable and unmysterious character of the new 
 religion that its service should be expressed in the 
 mother-tongue of its adherents ; and yet he knew 
 such is the force of superstitious association that the 
 
 * Burnct, ii. 1. 313.
 
 ARCHBISHOP CBANMER. 223 
 
 very fact of the mass being celebrated in an unknown 
 dialect impressed the vulgar with a sense of mysterious 
 awe, which, by a natural illusion, was extended to the offi- 
 ciating priesthood. His conduct in this difficulty dis- 
 played his good sense and moderation. He framed his 
 new English liturgy out of materials furnished by the 
 Roman ritual. Its elevated piety and simplicity recom- 
 mended it to the friends of pure religion ; while its being 
 but a translation, in the mother-tongue, of the daily 
 service of their altar, could not fail to attract to it the en- 
 lightened members of the catholic communion. In either 
 case, the senses were made ministrant to his purpose. 
 
 A broad mark of sensible distinction being thus drawn 
 between the new and old worship, without inducing 
 the alarm of a radical difference, Cranmer next enlisted 
 the pride of the multitude on his side, by proclaiming 
 their private judgment to be the ultimate appeal in all 
 scriptural controversy. Not that he ever intended to 
 consult their decisions, for he was too well aware of 
 their incompetency to come to any ; but he knew that 
 the permission to every man to freely exercise his " pri- 
 vate judgment " in the meaning of the Scriptures, could 
 not fail to alienate him from a religion which denied 
 that indulgence, and to make him, on the other hand, 
 a friend to the system of belief which granted it as a 
 matter of right. In point of fact, the reformers were 
 at this time to the full as intolerant as the catholics in 
 their interpretations of the sacred volume ; but employed 
 different, though much less consistent, means of ensuring 
 a conformity with their own comments and opinions. 
 All, therefore, who fancied they were exercising their 
 private judgment, when they were probably only mar- 
 shalling one set of prejudices in array against another, 
 favoured the new doctrines. 
 
 The Scriptures being now the inheritance of every 
 man, and the right of exercising the private judgment 
 in their interpretation being promulgated as a religious 
 obligation, the next step for the promoters of the re- 
 formation naturally was the sweeping away all those
 
 224 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 ceremonies and dogmas of the Roman worship which 
 were not sanctioned by the letter or the spirit of the in- 
 spired writings. The Virgin, consequently, was de- 
 prived of her divine honours ; most of the saints were 
 cashiered or superannuated ; and the terra incognita of 
 purgatory expunged from the map of true religion, as 
 unknown to the prophets, and repugnant to the doctrine 
 of justification. The practice of confession was left to 
 the opinion of each " private judgment " on its efficacy, 
 and very soon fell into disuse. 
 
 The sacrament of the Lord's Supper can present 
 itself to the candid mind but under two interpretations, 
 either that of the church of Rome, with all its absurd- 
 ities ; or that of the Zuingh'an divines, with its apparent 
 contradictions to the letter of the Gospel. Endless 
 attempts, however, were for nearly a century made to 
 hit off a kind of middle term which might embrace the 
 two opposing doctrines ; and it was not till an ocean of 
 blood and ink had been spilt that the Zuinglian version 
 became a part of the English liturgy. 
 
 Though the reformation was now consummated, its 
 great fosterer's labours were not at an end. The statute 
 imposing celibacy on the clergy was yet unrepealed : his 
 wife and children were still exiles. The marriage of 
 ecclesiastics was highly unpalatable to parliament and 
 the nation ; so much so, indeed, that had not Cranmer's 
 private feelings been deeply involved in the issue, it is 
 very doubtful whether the liberty of entering into a state 
 of wedlock would be even now enjoyed by the priest- 
 hood. It certainly would not have been granted in the 
 reign of Elizabeth, or in that of her successor ; and 
 would not have been thought of in the cabinet of 
 Mary. 
 
 In the preamble to the first bill which, at the insti- 
 gation of the archbishop, was brought into parliament, 
 to repeal so much of the law of the Six Articles as pro- 
 hibited the marriage of the clergy, the intended indulg- 
 ence was spoken of as an "ignominious and tolerated 
 evil ; " and perpetual continence was recommended, as
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 225 
 
 becoming the spiritual character of a ministry which 
 could not be too much relieved from worldly embarrass- 
 ments in the performance of its duties. Cranmer, how- 
 ever, persevered ; and, after much opposition, a subse- 
 quent bill received the sanction of the legislature, and 
 liberty to marry became the right of protestant church- 
 men. 
 
 It would have been well for Cranmer's reputation 
 had he confined himself exclusively to the duties of his 
 prelacy, and had not lent the weight of his name, 
 as patriarch of the church of England, to the designs 
 of factious ambition. " But even the good men of 
 those days," says a late writer* on them, " were strange 
 beings." Where blood and life are or may be in- 
 volved in the result, the canon law prohibits cler- 
 gymen from having any share in the transaction ; 
 nevertheless, such was the archbishop's unfortunate 
 facility of compliance with the requests of another, 
 the brother of the criminal, that he signed the war- 
 rant for the admiral Seymour's execution, and influenced 
 Latimer to justify the deed in a sermon before the boy 
 monarch. Seymour no doubt merited his fate ; but 
 the minister of a religion of peace and mercy should not 
 have been, in any way, his executioner. 
 
 A measure still more questionable, of which Cranmer 
 was the chief agent, was the harsh treatment of those 
 prelates who adhered to the ancient forms of worship. 
 The reader need hardly be reminded of the imprisonment 
 and deprivations of Bonner, then bishop of London, 
 and Gardiner, bishop of Winchester. The unnecessary 
 (to use the mildest phrase) oppression of those vindic- 
 tive men only created justifying precedents for re- 
 taliating in kind when circumstances afterwards pos- 
 sessed them with the power. Without intimidating 
 them, it generated the will and the motive to persecute 
 in return, and taught the benevolent the melancholy 
 truth, that the difference between the prelates of the old 
 
 * Turner's Modern History of England, a valuable depositor}' of curious 
 facts and reasonings.
 
 226 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 and the new church was less one of intolerance of spirit, 
 than of verbal faith and outward worship. 
 
 But these were but slight blemishes compared with 
 the flagitious persecutions for heresy which stain the 
 reputation of Cranmer. It might have been fairly ex- 
 pected from men who had taken the lead in asserting 
 the liberty of thinking with an unfettered conscience on 
 religion, and who had boldly opposed the right of pri- 
 vate judgment to the authority of ages, that they at 
 least would respect that right, and that liberty, when 
 exercised by others. Above all men, a repugnance to 
 the shedding of Wood for points of faith should have 
 been manifested by Cranmer; for he had seen the inno- 
 cent led to the scaffold, and had in the former reign 
 assisted in consigning to the flames the fearless asserter 
 of doctrines which he now himself heartily espoused. 
 But this, as we have before observed, was an age of 
 religious bigotry, and even the benevolent Cranmer 
 partook of its persecuting spirit. In the third year 01 
 Edward's reign, in 1549 5 a commission was appointed 
 of which the archbishop was head, to " search after all 
 anabaptists, heretics, and condemners of the Common 
 Prayer," and to hand them over to the secular power 
 in the event of their failing previously to reclaim 
 them. Many abjured their errors rather than become 
 martyrs, and carried faggots at St. Paul's cross in the 
 usual manner of penitent heretics. " But," says Bur- 
 net (Hist. Reformation, vol. ii. p. 146.), "there was 
 another of these extreme obstinates, Joan Bocher, com- 
 monly called Joan of Kent. She denied that Christ 
 was truly incarnate of the Virgin, whose flesh being 
 sinful, he could take none of it ; but the Word, by the 
 consent of the inward man in the Virgin, took flesh of 
 her : these were her words. They took much pains 
 about her, and had many conferences with her ; but 
 she was so extravagantly conceited in her own notions, 
 that she rejected all they said with scorn. Whereupon 
 she was adjudged an obstinate heretic, and so left to the 
 secular power. This sentence being returned to the coun-
 
 ARCHBISHOP CBANMER. 227 
 
 cil, the good king was moved to sign a warrant for burning 
 her, but could not be prevailed on to do it ; he thought it 
 a piece of cruelty, too like that which they had condemned 
 in papists, to burn any for their consciences. And, in a 
 long discourse he had with sir J. Chick, he seemed 
 much confirmed in that opinion. Cranmer was there- 
 fore employed to persuade him to sign the warrant." 
 (What an office for an aged prelate to a child ! ) " He 
 argued from the law of Moses, by which blasphemers 
 were to be stoned : he told the king he made a great 
 difference between errors in other points of divinity 
 and those which were directed against the apostles' creed ; 
 that these were impieties against God, which a prince, 
 as being God^s deputy, ought, to punish, as the king's 
 deputies were obliged to punish offences against the 
 king's person. These reasons did rather silence than 
 satisfy the young king, who still thought it a hard thing 
 (as in truth it was) to proceed so severely in such 
 cases ; so he set his hand to the warrant with tears in 
 his eyes, saying to Cranmer, that if he did wrong, since 
 it was in submission to his authority, he should answer 
 for it to God." This declaration of the young monarch 
 so alarmed the archbishop that he had the woman 
 brought to his house, " to see if he and Ridley could 
 persuade her ;" but she only replied with jeers and 
 taunts at their inconsistencies. " It is A goodly matter,' 
 said she to Cranmer, as he was on the point of passing 
 sentence on her, " to consider your ignorance. It was 
 not long ago you burned Anne Arken for a piece of 
 bread, and yet came yourself soon after to believe and 
 profess the same doctrine for which you burned her ; 
 and now, forsooth, you will needs burn me for a piece 
 of flesh, and in the end you will come to believe this 
 also, when you have read the Scriptures and understand 
 them." This almost irresistible appeal only irritated 
 the prelate : he delivered sentence against her as an 
 obstinate heretic, and she was burned soon after. A 
 few days later Von Parris, a Dutchman, was also con- 
 signed to the flames for Arianism. 
 Q 2
 
 228 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 Such was the conduct, so monstrously inconsistent, of 
 the great patriarchs of the reformation. Blinded by re- 
 ligious zeal, and the intolerant spirit of the age, they 
 could not see that they were furnishing the adherents to 
 the ancient faith with a rich armoury of weapons of per- 
 secution. It did not strike them, that if Joan Bocher 
 and Von Parris were guilty in freely exercising their 
 private judgment in interpreting the Scriptures, all their 
 ecclesiastical innovations, and the reformation itself, 
 must, a fortiori, be denounced as the most audacious 
 and deliberate criminality. But, it cannot be too often 
 repeated, these were times of unparalleled changes, great 
 excitement, and intolerance. A mighty concussion had 
 shaken society to its foundation, and the moral and in- 
 tellectual man had not yet reasserted himself in his 
 native equanimity and clearsightedness. Men should, 
 we again remind the reader, be judged by the standard 
 of their own age alone ; as there is no man but in a great 
 degree takes his colouring of conduct from the habits of 
 his contemporaries and immediate predecessors. We 
 are the creatures of circumstance and imitation ; and 
 imitation, says Bacon, is a globe of precepts. The 
 progress of truth and improvement is imperceptible in 
 short periods : so that the habits of thought and action, 
 the religious belief, the political predilections and aver- 
 sions, and opinions of men and books of the passing 
 events, differ but a shade here and there from those of 
 the past generations ; and that again runs, like the 
 colours of the rainbow, insensibly into the preceding. 
 No one link of the chain of being, therefore, stands out 
 prominently in advance of its neighbouring one in either 
 moral or intellectual improvement; and though individuals 
 may, in the closet, promulgate doctrines that far outstrip 
 the general intelligence, they must wait till that intelli- 
 gence has grown up to them before these doctrines 
 become principles of action. In the mean while, their 
 conduct in life assimilates itself to that of their fellow 
 men, however theoretically inconsistent with their private 
 speculations.
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 229 
 
 A great moral lesson should be the inference from 
 these remarks charity towards the holder of opinions 
 different from our own, and a hesitation to condemn too 
 harshly the actions and usages of other times and circum- 
 stances. We teach our children to loathe the very name 
 of " bloody queen Mary ;" but we forget, at the same 
 time, to inform them, that that princess possessed virtues 
 which, in circumstances more favourable to their growth 
 than those by which she was surrounded from her cradle, 
 would have made her a theme for our warmest eulogies- 
 We teach them to justly reprobate the name of Bonner, 
 without informing them, that if that dark-minded prelate 
 had lived in our days, his zeal would be confined to an 
 intolerant speech from the bench of bishops, or a decla- 
 matory pamphlet, or angry charge against his religious 
 opponents ; and that it is not improbable, that, if some 
 of the ecclesiastical dignitaries of our own times had 
 been his contemporaries, their conduct would not have 
 been less intolerant. We have all read with indignation 
 of the burning of Servetus : we have all seen the ashes 
 of the poet Byron refused a resting place in Westmin- 
 ster Abbey. No doubt the honour of religion was the 
 sole source of the latter ungracious act ; but did Calvin 
 only indulge a passion for torturing a fellow-creature.'' 
 Change the time, the place, the circumstances, and would 
 or rather say, could the stern reformer of Geneva in 
 the nineteenth century evince his disapprobation of hete- 
 rodoxy more pointedly ? In a word, then, let us judge 
 charitably of our persecuting fathers ; and while repro- 
 bating and avoiding their faults, let us bless Providence 
 that we have been permitted to live in a country and an 
 age of civil and religious liberty. 
 
 The court of the well-taught clever boy who now 
 held the sceptre had been for some time a scene of con- 
 tentions between the Dudley and Seymour factions. 
 Cranmer was an adherent to the interest of the protector; 
 for to him was he indebted for the aid of the govern- 
 ment in erecting the new system of public worship. 
 There was a something, moreover, of congeniality of 
 Q 3
 
 230 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 disposition in the two men that tinged their official in- 
 tercourse with the warmth of private friendship. Both 
 were well-intentioned and kind-hearted : Somerset, not 
 less than the archbishop, wanted that firmness and de- 
 cision of character so necessary in times of danger and 
 trouble to men in high station. It was, therefore, with 
 regret that Cranmer saw his patron led to the scaffold, 
 and his rival, Northumberland, in possession of the young 
 monarch's confidence. " On the 22d of January, 1552," 
 writes Edward in his journal, " the duke of Somerset 
 had his head cut off upon Tower Hill, between eight 
 and nine in the morning." This duke of Somerset, 
 whose execution is thus so coldly and briefly noticed, the 
 reader is aware, was the youthful journalist's favourite 
 uncle. 
 
 Edward had inherited a delicate constitution from his 
 mother, and with it that precociousness of talent some- 
 times considered as indicative of a short career. His ill- 
 ness was now advancing rapidly to its fatal termination. 
 On the llth of June, 1553, Montague, chief justice of 
 the Common Pleas, with two of the puisne judges, and 
 the attorney and solicitor general, received a summons to 
 attend the council at the palace of Greenwich. On their 
 arrival the dying monarch informed them, that his 
 anxiety for the welfare of his subjects had induced him 
 to change the order of succession laid down by his royal 
 father ; that he had seriously weighed the danger the 
 kingdom might be exposed to if his sister Mary, with 
 her popish predilections, should succeed to the throne, 
 and the danger that might follow to the laws and religion 
 of the country if either of the princesses married a 
 stranger to both. The law officers were then ordered 
 to draw up a legal instrument, declaring his cousin, the 
 lady Jane Dudley, daughter of Grey, duke of Suffolk, 
 and wife of a son of Northumberland, the prime ori- 
 ginator of the whole proceeding, heir to the crown. 
 After many delays and expostulations on the part of the 
 chief justice and his colleagues, and reprimands and 
 threats from the king and Northumberland,' the in-
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 231 
 
 strument establishing a new order of succession was 
 legally executed. On the 21st of June it was signed by 
 the chancellor, the archbishop, judges, and the leading 
 nobility. Cranmer at first refused the sanction of his 
 name to the deed, and argued zealously against it at the 
 council and in private. " I never liked it," he says, in 
 his letter to queen Mary, " nor any thing grieved me 
 so much as your grace's brother did; and if by any 
 means it had been to have hindered the making of that 
 will, I should have done it." He yielded ultimately to 
 Edward's personal entreaties. " So at length I was re- 
 quired by the king's majesty himself to set my hand to 
 his will, saying, that he trusted that I alone would not 
 be more repugnant to his will than the rest of the council 
 were ; which words surely grieved my heart very sore, 
 and so I granted him to subscribe his will, and to follow 
 the same." On the 6th of July the youthful monarch 
 expired. 
 
 The nine-days' reign of the young, beautiful, and 
 all-accomplished pupil of Roger Ascham, lady Jane 
 Dudley, followed, with its fatal consequences to its inno- 
 cent victim and guilty author. For the designing and 
 unprincipled Northumberland there can be no pity ; he 
 justly died the death of a traitor ; but who that reads 
 the artless narrative of the puppet-queen, but must 
 lament that she should have been the ill-fated tool of her 
 father-in-law's ambition. Cranmer adhered faithfully to 
 her interests to the last hour, though, as we have seen, 
 he had embraced them with reluctance. 
 
 From Mary the archbishop could hope but for little 
 mercy : all that was dark and resentful in her story was 
 associated with his name. It was he that annulled her 
 mother's marriage, and had declared herself illegitimate ; 
 he was the subverter of her religion, and the head of the 
 new system of worship that had been raised in its 
 stead ; and he had joined in a conspiracy to snatch the 
 crown from her brow, and was one of the last to abandon 
 the fortunes of her competitor : a deep sense of private 
 wrong, therefore, united with religious zeal in visiting 
 Q 4
 
 232 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 his offences with the heaviest punishment. But the blow 
 did not fall all at once : it was deemed prudent to wait 
 till the'new queen had become firmly seated on her 
 throne. 
 
 King Edward was buried on the 8th of August, on 
 which occasion Cranmer officiated according to the 
 protestant ritual. He was next day ordered to confine 
 himself to the archiepiscopal palace of Lambeth, and to 
 furnish the council with an inventory of his moveable 
 possessions. He was joined in his retirement by Peter 
 Martyr, who had fled from Oxford, where the reformed 
 doctrines had not even yet taken root, and who con- 
 firmed the fears of the archbishop, that their joint labours 
 in establishing a scriptural system of worship would be 
 unproductive during the reign of the present monarch. 
 Cranmer conducted himself with great humility ; so 
 much so, indeed, as to induce his enemies to give out 
 " that he was ready to submit himself in all things" to 
 the will of the council. To add to his anxiety, it was 
 communicated to him that mass had been performed in 
 Canterbury cathedral with his alleged consent and per- 
 mission. The honest zeal of Peter Martyr felt indignant 
 at the imputation, and, by his advice, Cranmer gave it 
 a public denial. The declaration which he drew up on 
 this occasion does honour, by its boldness, to his courage 
 and sincerity. It stated, " that as the devil had at all 
 times set on his instruments by lies to defame the 
 servants of God, so he was now more than ordinarily 
 busy. For whereas king Henry had begun the correct- 
 ing the abuses of the mass, which his son had brought to 
 a further perfection; and so the Lord's Supper was 
 restored to its first institution, and was celebrated ac- 
 cording to the pattern of the primitive church : now the 
 devil, intending to bring the mass again into its room, as 
 being his own invention, had stirred up some to give 
 out that it had been set up in Canterbury by his, the 
 said Cranmer' s, order ; and it was said, that he had 
 undertaken to sing mass to the queen's majesty, both at 
 king Edward's funeral at St. Paul's and other places ;
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 233 
 
 and though, for these twenty years, he had despised all 
 such errors and false reports of him as were spread abroad, 
 yet he now thought it not fit to lie under such misrepre- 
 sentations ; therefore he protests to all the world that 
 the mass was not set. up at Canterbury by his, the said 
 Cranmer's, order, but that a fawning hypocritical monk 
 had done it without his knowledge ; and for what he 
 was said to have undertaken to the queen, her majesty 
 knew well how false that was, offering, if he might 
 obtain her leave for it, to maintain that every thing in 
 the communion service that was set out by their most 
 innocent and good king Edward was according to Christ's 
 institution, and the practice of the apostles and the 
 ancient church for many ages, to which the mass was 
 contrary, being full of errors and abuses ; and although 
 Peter Martyr was by some called an ignorant man, 
 he with him, or other four or five such as he could 
 choose, would be ready to defend, not only their Book of 
 Common Prayer and the other rites of their service, but 
 the whole doctrines and order of religion set forth by 
 the late king as more pure and more agreeable to the 
 word of God than any sort of religion that had been in 
 England for a thousand years before it, provided that 
 things should be judged by the Scriptures, and that the 
 reasonings on both sides should be faithfully written 
 down."* 
 
 On the 8th, Cranmer was summoned to answer for it 
 before the council. On the 13th, "after a long and serious 
 debate," he was committed to the Tower, for matters of 
 treason against the queen, and for dispersing of seditious 
 bills. He was attainted in the ensuing parliament of 
 treason, and the fruits of his archbishoprick sequestered. 
 The charge of treason was, however, forgiven or aban- 
 doned, it being determined that he should be proceeded 
 against for heresy alone. 
 
 The rebellion of Wyat produced the usual effect of 
 unsuccessful insurrection ; it strengthened the power of 
 
 * Burnet. This bold declaration was publicly read in Cheapside and 
 elsewhere on the 5th of September.
 
 234 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 the crown, and removed the obstacle of public inertia to 
 its favourite measures. With its suppression began 
 those burnings and persecutions which have entailed 
 upon this reign the lasting odium of posterity. It was 
 now resolved to proceed to extremities with Cranmer 
 and the other leaders of the reformation. From the 
 Tower, where they had been confined for the last seven 
 months, the archbishop, Latimer, and Ridley were con- 
 ducted to Oxford, there to hold a public disputation with 
 the catholic theologians on the great points of difference 
 between the two churches. The catholic was then the 
 religion of the sovereign : of course the moderator in 
 the disputation decided in favour of the divines of the 
 slate worship ; Cranmer and his associates were declared 
 to be vanquished and contumacious, and the hall re- 
 sounded with the cries of " Vincit veritas." It was in 
 vain that they declared to the council that they had 
 been silenced by noise *, and not by argument ; and that 
 they appealed to the judgment of the Almighty from 
 the decision of the moderator. The council hearkened 
 not to their prayer, and left them to their fate. Two 
 days after the decision against them they were brought 
 before the commissioners, and asked whether they would 
 subscribe to the ancient worship. They unanimously 
 refused, and were condemned as obstinate heretics. The 
 usual formalities of the papal code in heretical prosecu- 
 tions were gone through. Cranmer was cited as an 
 archbishop to appear before the pope within the canon- 
 ical period (eighty days) laid down on such occasions, 
 and at the expiration of the eighty days was delivered 
 over to the secular power. He was accused of blas- 
 phemy and heresy for his writings against the Roman 
 worship, of perjury for violating his oath of canonical 
 obedience, and of incontinency for having married after 
 his vow of celibacy; and was declared to be contuma- 
 
 * Cranmer, in his letter to the council, says, " I never knewe nor hearde 
 of a more confusied disputacyon in all my life. For albeit there was one 
 appoynted to dispute agaynste me, yet evrey man spak hys mynde, and 
 brought forth what hym liked, without order ; and such hast was made 
 that no auswere coulde be suffered to be given."
 
 ARCHBISHOP CBANMER. 235 
 
 cious for not having (and he was a prisoner all the 
 t'ime) appeared at Rome, according to the letter of the 
 citation. He was now in hourly expectation of his 
 fate the rather as Gardiner and Bonner, whom he 
 had treated with great harshness in the late reign, were 
 the queen's most influential counsellors. From them he 
 could expect no favour : the implacable hatred of pole- 
 mical antagonists being, in both, inflamed by the recollec- 
 tion of personal oppression. Had the archbishop been 
 at this time led to the scaffold, such was the resigned 
 firmness of his mind, his name would have probably 
 been spared the stain of his subsequent recantations. 
 
 Hitherto Cranmer had displayed unremittent courage 
 in his sufferings, and was prepared to prove his sincerity 
 by his death. But with delay and suspense came vague 
 hopes, and a damping of zeal and courage. From the 
 window of his cell, he had seen his friends and fellow- 
 labourers in the vineyard, Ridley and Latimer, led to 
 execution. 
 
 The excruciating torments which they were made to 
 endure shook his resolution. Hopes were held out to 
 him that his life might be spared if he relented from his 
 obstinacy ; he wavered, and expressed a wish to have a 
 conference with the legate. This fit of irresolution, 
 however, soon passed over ; and having expressed his 
 regret for his weakness, he wrote a long letter to the 
 queen in defence of the protestant doctrines. But Gar- 
 diner was well acquainted with that want of firmness 
 which was the blemish of the archbishop's character, and 
 knew that, having once hesitated, it was highly probable 
 he would hesitate again. Cranmer was accordingly 
 told to prepare himself for his speedy execution. The 
 intelligence had its intended effect ; his spirit was broken 
 by confinement, his courage gave way, and death by 
 burning presented itself to his imagination with all its 
 features of horror. Six instruments of recantation still 
 bear witness to his " human infirmity." Thus 
 
 " The base drachm 
 
 Doth all the noble substance often dout 
 To his own scandal."
 
 236 
 
 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 and thus the one defect of Cranmer's mind led to acts 
 which his frequent heroism scarcely atoned for. He 
 now feigned himself a reconvert to the Catholic doc- 
 trines, and for six weeks openly condemned the " errors 
 of Luther and Zuinglius, acknowledged the pope's supre- 
 macy, the seven sacraments, the corporal presence in 
 the eucharist, purgatory, prayer for departed souls, the 
 invocation of saints, to which was added his being 
 sorry for his former errors ; and concluded, exhorting 
 all that had been deceived by his example or doctrines 
 to return to the unity of the church, and protesting 
 that he had signed his recantation w r illingly, only for 
 the discharge of his conscience." * 
 
 Fortunately for the reputation of Cranmer, these 
 humiliating recantations were not rewarded by a pardon. 
 To Ridley and Latimer life had been offered on their 
 renouncing their " heresies ;" but it was decided in the 
 council that no recantation should save the archbishop. 
 His political offences, it was said, might be overlooked ; 
 but his offences against religion required that he should 
 suffer for the sake of example. A writ for his execution 
 was accordingly despatched to Oxford, and a day fixed. 
 But Cranmer with his firmness lost his dignity of mind. 
 With the hope of still averting his fate, he signed 
 another document, in which he declared he was not 
 actuated by fear or favour, and that his former recant- 
 ation was made unsolicitedly, for the ease of his own 
 conscience and the instruction of others. A letter to 
 cardinal Pole, he knew he need not address Gardiner, 
 accompanied this document, in which he begged that 
 prelate's influence to obtain him a few days' respite, in 
 order that he might give the world a still more con- 
 vincing proof of his repentance. The respite was 
 granted; and Cranmer, in a sixth confession, declared 
 that he had been a greater persecutor of the church 
 than Paul, and that he wished, like that apostle, to make 
 amends. He could not rebuild what he had destroyed ; 
 
 * Burnet, ii. 2. The reader will see six recantations, quoted at length, 
 in Todd's Life of Cranmer, just published.
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 237 
 
 but as the penitent thief on the cross by the testimony 
 of his lips obtained mercy, so he trusted that he by the 
 offering of his lips should move the clemency of the 
 Almighty. He was an offender beyond the pale of 
 temporal or eternal mercy ; he had blasphemed the 
 sacrament, and had deprived men of the benefit of the 
 eucharist. To conclude, he entreated for forgiveness 
 from the pope and the king and queen, and pity from 
 all Christians. 
 
 Fortunately, we repeat, for Cranmer's fame, his offence 
 against the honour of Mary's birth had made her in- 
 exorably resolved on his execution. Had he been then 
 pardoned, and permitted to eke out his existence in 
 obscurity, his name would now be a by-word synonymous 
 with all that is loathsome in hypocrisy, cowardice, and 
 apostacy. He would have been so degraded in his 
 own eyes, that he could never have ventured again to 
 present himself to that church of which he was the 
 founder, but from which the fear of death had made 
 him apostatise. Again, we repeat, his reputation is 
 indebted to the profound hatred of the queen, who, un- 
 moved by his cries for mercy, and his expressions of deep 
 remorse, desired the law to take its course. 
 
 The 21st of March was the day fixed for his execu- 
 tion. To the last moment, Cranmer clung to the hope 
 of mercy ; and was astounded when a Spanish friar an- 
 nounced to him, on the fatal morning, that his hours 
 were numbered, and that he should prepare himself for 
 his last earthly trial. The friar then handed to him a 
 paper, to be read at the stake, as a dying testimony of 
 his repentance. It was a summary of his recantations. 
 Cranmer signed it ; and having transcribed it, kept a 
 copy for his own use. When the friar had departed he 
 altered his copy, and made it equivalent to a disavowal 
 of all his former abjurations and denials. At the usual 
 hour the procession set forward : it halted at the church 
 of St. Mary, where the last sermon was preached by a 
 Dr. Cole. The archbishop stood on a platform opposite 
 to the pulpit, according to an eye-witness (quoted by
 
 238 BRITISH STATESMEN'. 
 
 Strype), " the very image of sorrow." Remorse for his 
 recent unworthy conduct had taken entire possession of 
 his soul. His face was bathed in tears, and expressed 
 " great inward confusion ; " and his eyes were some- 
 times lifted up to heaven, now fixed downward on 
 earth, " as one ashamed of himself." The sermon 
 having been concluded, the preacher called on Cranmer 
 to declare his faith. The archbishop then took out his 
 paper : all were prepared for a repetition of his recant- 
 ations, the rather as the merits of his conversion had 
 been dwelt upon by Dr. Cole in his sermon. He was 
 heard with profound attention, till he "spake to that 
 which, he said, troubled his conscience more than any 
 thing he had ever done in his whole life ; which was the 
 subscribing a paper contrary to the truth, and against 
 his conscience, out of fear of death and love of life ; 
 and when he came to the fire, he was resolved that that 
 hand that had signed it should burn first." He then 
 repeated, that his former opinions on the papal usurp- 
 ation, and on the eucharist, were those he died in. 
 " Upon this there was a wonderful confusion in the 
 assembly." Lord Williams called to him to remember 
 himself, and play the Christian. " I do," replied 
 Cranmer, with tears : " it is now too late to dissemble ; 
 I must now speak the truth. I have been hitherto a 
 hater of falsehood and a lover of simplicity, and never 
 before this time have I dissembled." He was imme- 
 diately led to the stage which had been erected for his 
 execution, opposite Baliol College, where he put off 
 his clothes in haste, and standing in his shirt, and 
 without shoes, was fastened with a chain to the stake. 
 Some of the crowd urged him to declare in favour of his 
 former recantations. He answered, showing his hand, 
 " This is the hand that wrote it, and therefore it shall 
 suffer punishment." Fire being applied to him, he 
 stretched out his right hand into the flame, and held it 
 there unmoved (except that once with it he wiped his 
 face) till it was consumed, crying with a loud voice, 
 "This hand hath offended this unworthy right hand."
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 239 
 
 At last, the fire getting up, he soon expired, never 
 stirring or crying out all the while, only keeping his 
 eyes fixed on heaven, and repeating more than once, 
 " Lord Jesus, receive my spirit ! " Cranmer thus 
 perished, in the 6?th year of his age. 
 
 It is hardly necessary to offer additional remarks on 
 the character of Cranmer, as, we persuade ourselves, its 
 leading features have been sufficiently displayed to the 
 reader in the course of our narrative. His contempo- 
 raries unite in attributing to him all the virtues that 
 adorn a private station. He was humble and affection- 
 ately kind to the poor, ever attentive to their wants, 
 ever happy in relieving them. To the rich and power- 
 ful he is also represented as uniformly courteous and 
 respectful, equally remote from obsequiousness and, 
 what has been considered as not unusual in men of his 
 rank, episcopal arrogance. In the mildness and yield- 
 ing gentleness of his temper, and in the " vicious feeble- 
 nesses" to which the excess of those excellent qualities 
 invariably leads, he very much resembled Philip Melanc- 
 thon. Like that amiable man, too, he wanted the 
 enthusiastic confidence in the goodness of his cause 
 which spurns the aid of unworthy expedients, and fear- 
 lessly pursues its straightforward course in all times and 
 seasons. But here the resemblance ends. Cranmer 
 possessed neither the genius nor the learning of the 
 German theologian ; and though naturally as candid and 
 truth-loving, did not exhibit the same ingenuous buoy- 
 ancy in troubled waters. The truth is, the very virtues 
 of his character united with its defects in unfitting him 
 for high stations in times like those which it was his 
 fate to live in. 
 
 He was constitutionally wedded to peace and quiet- 
 ness ; and wanting, as we have seen, firmness and deci- 
 sion of purpose, and the higher and sterner elements of 
 moral greatness, was too glad to embrace repose from 
 toil and danger upon almost any terms. Hence we may 
 conclude that, had his lot been confined to private life, 
 his conduct would have been unexceptionably amiable,
 
 240 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 and himself universally respected ; and hence we may 
 also affirm, that under no circumstances could he have 
 been a great man. As it is, we pity much more than 
 we condemn him, and willingly shut our eyes on his de- 
 fects and errors, when we recollect his cruel death, and 
 his services in aid of the reformation. These it is that 
 have snatched his name from oblivion, or from indiffer- 
 ence, perhaps contempt, and that, in the teeth of mutu- 
 ally admitted facts, have kept alive a controversy on the 
 real merits of his character. By our own zealots he is held 
 up to our admiration, as the most glorious and faultless 
 martyr of the Church of England ; by the Romanists, 
 his name is branded with every epithet of meanness and 
 inconsistency : as if, in this most absurd logomachy, the 
 character of the reformation, or the gospel purity of the 
 rival creeds, were to be determined, or for a moment 
 affected, by the conduct of individuals; and as if it was 
 not among the most wonderful of the dispensations of 
 Providence, which " out of evil seeks to bring forth 
 good," that it has sometimes been pleased to employ the 
 guiltiest instruments in effecting its highest and holiest 
 purposes.
 
 241 
 
 WILLIAM CECIL, LORD BURLEIGH. 
 
 15201598. 
 
 WILLIAM CECIL *, descended from an ancient and re- 
 spectable family, was born at Bourn in Lincolnshire, in 
 the year 1520.t Both his father and grandfather held 
 honourable appointments under Henry VIII. His 
 father was master of the robes ; an office, in that age, 
 of considerable distinction. During his early educa- 
 tion, his progress either exhibited nothing remarkable, 
 or has been overlooked by his biographers, amidst the 
 splendour of his succeeding transactions ; for we are 
 merely informed, that he received the first rudiments of 
 learning at the grammar schools of Grantham and Stam- 
 ford.^ But at St. John's college, Cambridge, to which 
 he was removed in the fifteenth year of his age, he gave 
 strong indications of the qualities calculated to raise him 
 to future eminence. He suffered no irregularity to in- 
 terrupt his pursuits ; and seemed resolute to excel his 
 fellow-students, by the certain means of incessant appli- 
 cation. That he might daily devote several hours to 
 study, without any hazard of interruption, he made an 
 agreement with the bell-ringer to be called up every 
 morning at four o'clock. The strength of his constitu- 
 tion, however, did not correspond with the ardour of 
 his mind ; for, in consequence of much sitting, without 
 proper intervals of exercise, he contracted a painful 
 humour in his legs ; and though subsequently cured of 
 
 * This life is taken by permission from Macdiarmid's British Statesmen 
 t Lord Burleigh's Diary, in the British Museum, Harleian MS. No. 46. 
 j Life of William Lord Burghley, by one of his domestics, edited by 
 Collins in 1732, p. ri. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 242 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 this distemper, his physicians considered it as a prin- 
 cipal cause of that inveterate gout which embittered the 
 latter part of his life. * 
 
 His indefatigable industry soon led to a proficiency 
 which drew on him the particular notice of his teachers. 
 The master of the college encouraged his perseverance 
 by occasional presents +, but his ambition seems to have 
 required no such stimulant. He began, at sixteen, to 
 put in practice the methods then usual of acquiring 
 literary celebrity, by delivering a public lecture. His 
 first topic was the logic of the schools ; hut, three years 
 afterwards, he ventured to comment on the Greek lan- 
 guage, which had hitherto been cultivated with more 
 eagerness than success. He was afterwards ambitious 
 of excelling as a general scholar ; and successively 
 directed his industry to the various branches of litera- 
 ture then cultivated at the university. J 
 
 When he was supposed to have laid a sufficient 
 foundation of useful knowledge, he was removed from 
 the university to Gray's Inn, where he applied himself 
 to the study of the law, with the same method and in- 
 dustry as he had observed at Cambridge. He found 
 leisure also for several collateral pursuits : the antiquities 
 of the kingdom, and more especially the pedigrees and 
 fortunes of the most distinguished families, occupied 
 much of his attention ; and such was his progress in 
 these pursuits, that no man of his time was accounted 
 a more complete adept in heraldry. This species of 
 information, had he adhered to the destination for the 
 bar, might have been of little utility ; but, in his career 
 of a statesman, it often proved of essential advantage. 
 His practice was to record with his pen every thing 
 worthy of notice which occurred to him either in 
 reading or observation, arranging this information in the 
 most methodical manner, a singular example of dili- 
 gence, which is authenticated to posterity by collections 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 6. 
 
 + Fuller's History of the University of Cambridge, p. yj. 
 
 t Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 7. 
 
 $ Bacon's Works, voL iv. p. 358. "edit 1740.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 243 
 
 of his manuscripts, still preserved in many public and 
 private libraries. While, from this practice, he derived, 
 besides other advantages, an uncommon facility in com- 
 mitting his thoughts to writing, he neglected not to 
 cultivate an accomplishment still more essential to his 
 intended profession, a ready and graceful enunciation. 
 By frequenting various companies, and entering into 
 free discussion, he learnt to express himself with ease 
 and confidence ; while the extent of his information, 
 and the soundness of his judgment, prevented his fluency 
 from degenerating into declamation. 
 
 These acquisitions, united to a singular industry, 
 must have raised him, at an early period, to great 
 eminence in his profession, had not an incident, which 
 introduced him to the notice of Henry VIII., soon 
 diverted his attention to a different career, Cecil, having 
 accidentally met, in the presence chamber, with two 
 Irish priests, who had come to court in the train of 
 O'Neil, their chieftain, happened to enter into an argu- 
 ment with them on the pope's supremacy, of which 
 they were zealous abettors ; and, by his superior know- 
 ledge and fluency, so baffled his antagonists, that they 
 began to vent their uneasy feelings in violent expres- 
 sions. This contest was conducted in Latin ; and the 
 particulars of it having been reported to Henry, the 
 monarch, pleased with this indication of talents, and 
 still more with the successful refutation of the pope's 
 supremacy, desired to see the young man ; and, in the 
 course of a long conversation, conceived so favourable 
 an opinion of his abilities, that he resolved to take him 
 into his service, and directed his father (the master of 
 the robes) to find out an office which might suit him. 
 As no suitable situation happened to be vacant at the 
 time, his father pitched on the reversion of the custos 
 brevium in the Common Pleas, which was readily 
 granted, t 
 
 From the time of this introduction at court, which 
 happened within the first year of his attendance at 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 9. 
 R 2
 
 244 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 Gray's Inn, and in the twenty-second year of his age, 
 though Cecil still continued his application to the law, 
 his mind appears to have been more intently fixed on 
 political advancement. A very prudent and honourable 
 alliance, which he this year contracted by marriage, 
 proved an effectual channel to future preferment. In- 
 troduced by his father-in-law, sir John Cheke, a man 
 of great respectability and influence, to the earl of 
 Hertford, maternal uncle to the young prince Edward, 
 and afterwards better known as duke of Somerset, he 
 was enabled to cultivate a connection which, in a few 
 years, elevated him to the highest offices.* 
 
 About the commencement of the reign of Edward VI. 
 he succeeded to his office of custos brevium, which 
 brought him a revenue of 240/. a year, equal to more 
 than 10001. in the present age. While this accession 
 to his fortune placed him in comparative affluence, and 
 enabled him to prosecute his plans more at ease, a new 
 family connection, which he formed about the same time, 
 opened to him the fairest access to royal patronage. 
 His first wife having died in the second year of their 
 marriage, leaving him a son, he now married a daughter 
 of sir Anthony Cook, the director of the young king's 
 studies, a gentleman who derived from his situation 
 an influence confirmed by his talents and virtue, t 
 Few men have more directly accelerated their rise 
 by matrimonial alliances than Cecil ; yet such were 
 the excellent qualities of his lady, that we might 
 consider his attachment to her the result rather of 
 personal affection, than of a view to political advance- 
 ment. 
 
 His preferment under the new reign was not neglected 
 by Somerset, to whose friendship he was recommended 
 by various circumstances. While his talents and con- 
 summate application rendered him most useful to any 
 one placed at the head of affairs, his decided attachment 
 to the reformation gave him at this period a particular 
 
 * Camden's Annal. Eliz, p. 774-. 
 
 f Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 9.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 245 
 
 claim to public trusts. The protector, eager to extend 
 his popularity by accelerating those changes in religion, 
 which were now so generally desired, committed the 
 departments of government to the hands of such as were 
 known to be firm advocates of the reformation ; and, on 
 this occasion, he created Cecil master of the requests, 
 an appointment of trust and distinction.* 
 
 In the latter part of the same year, the young states- 
 man attended his patron in the expedition against Scot- 
 land, and was present at the battle of Pinkey, where 
 the arms of England proved so decisively victorious. 
 Here he very narrowly escaped destruction : a friend, 
 observing a cannon directly pointed at him, pushed him 
 out of its line, and, in the very act, had his own arm 
 unfortunately shattered by the ball, t Cecil, with his 
 usual diligence, wrote an account of this expedition. 
 On returning home, he enjoyed various advantages for 
 prosecuting his views at court, and his talents were well 
 calculated to second his opportunities. The insight into 
 the characters of those around him, which he derived 
 from careful habits of observation, enabled him to suit 
 his behaviour to persons and circumstances ; and the 
 prudent reserve of his conversation, joined to a perfect 
 command of temper, preserved him from those impru- 
 dences which so often bar the way to promotion. He 
 applied himself to gain the entire confidence of Somer- 
 set ; and having unrestrained access to the young prince, 
 both from the friendship of the protector, and the situ- 
 ation of his father-in-law, he quickly acquired the 
 esteem and attachment of Edward. Somerset readily 
 listened to the solicitations of his nephew in behalf of 
 their mutual favourite, and, in the following year, pro- 
 moted Cecil to the office of secretary of state. J 
 
 With a rapidity proportioned to his merits and his 
 address, Cecil had now attained one of the highest 
 stations in the government ; but his continuance on this 
 envied height depended so much on the conduct of 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley. p. 10. f Ibid. 
 
 t Lord Burghley's Diary. 
 
 B 3
 
 246 BRITISH STATESMEN'. 
 
 others, that the most consummate prudence on his part 
 could not render him secure. He, also, was drawn 
 along in the fall of his patron, which took place in little 
 more than a year. Somerset appears to have been one 
 of those unfortunate men, whose errors proceed rather 
 from weakness than from vice, and whose good inten- 
 tions are perpetually counteracted by- a lamentable im- 
 prudence. Ambitious, rather than qualified to govern, he 
 had taken advantage of his popularity to engross, in his 
 own person, the whole powers of the council of regency, 
 to which Henry, by his will, had intrusted the govern- 
 ment ; and though he showed no inclination to abuse 
 his authority, yet he displayed his ascendancy with an 
 offensive ostentation. A profusion and magnificence, 
 which might have served to increase his influence, con- 
 tributed, by his imprudent management, to ruin the 
 popularity which he so fondly courted. While he too 
 eagerly grasped at wealth to support his expenses, a 
 fortune which he suddenly amassed made his integrity 
 suspected ; and, on his pulling down several churches to 
 procure more splendid materials for erecting his palace, 
 the act was reprobated as sacrilege, and his impiety re- 
 garded with horror. Even the best intended measures 
 often became, in his unskilful hands, the source of new 
 calamities. By his rash and ill concerted attempts to 
 redress the grievances of the common people, he not 
 only provoked the nobility, but led the inflamed minds 
 of the people themselves into excesses, which he was 
 afterwards obliged to repress by severe military execu- 
 tions. His popularity at length became so much re- 
 duced, that the other members of the council of regency, 
 whom he had stripped of their just authority, ventured 
 to attempt his overthrow ; and, by a well planned con- 
 spiracy, succeeded in committing him and his principal 
 adherents to the Tower. 
 
 The chief actor in this plot against Somerset was 
 the earl of Warwick, son to Dudley, the infamous 
 tool of Henry VII.'s extortions. Warwick inherited all 
 the avarice and faithlessness of his father ; and being pos-
 
 l.iHlli BURLEIGH. 247 
 
 sessed of talents both for peace and war, he procured the 
 patronage of Henry VIII., who could readily overlook 
 hereditary taint contracted in executing the mandates 
 of tyranny. By the favour of that monarch, Dudley 
 was successively raised to the rank of nobility, created 
 an admiral, and appointed a member of the council of 
 regency. Yet, inflamed with an ambition which no 
 subordinate honours could satiate, he looked on the 
 minority of Edward as a favourable opportunity for 
 engrossing the chief direction of the government ; and 
 only delayed his attempts until the increasing unpopu- 
 larity of Somerset, to which he contributed by every 
 art, should ensure their accomplishment. Succeeding, 
 by the conspiracy which he had planned, to the power, 
 though not to the title, of the protector, he surrounded 
 the young king with his creatures, compelled the council 
 to submit to his dictates, and proceeded to secure his 
 ascendancy by new acquisitions of fortune and rank. 
 The last earl of Northumberland having died without 
 issue, and his brother having been attainted, the title was 
 now extinct, arid the estate vested in the crown. Warwick 
 procured a grant of these large possessions, and made 
 himself be created duke of Northumberland. 
 
 The views of this new ruler did not long prove adverse 
 to Cecil ; for, after having been detained in the Tower 
 about three months, he was discharged, and again found 
 himself on the road to fortune. Northumberland, though 
 awed by the previous popularity of Somerset, entertained 
 little apprehension of his talents, and justly calculated 
 that his partisans might be weaned by new prospect, 
 from their attachment to so feeble a leader. In Cecil 
 he perceived the double advantage of influence over the 
 young king, and of an uninterrupted application to 
 business, while others wasted their time in cabals and 
 intrigues. Aware, also, that with Cecil ambition was a 
 predominant principle, while his prudence was such as 
 to divert him from all dangerous schemes, Northumber- 
 land might expect that this statesman would be faithful 
 to those immediately possessed of power, and would pre- 
 R 4
 
 248 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 fer the prospect of present aggrandisement to the forlorn 
 generosity of adhering to the ruined fortunes of Somerset. 
 But whatever were the views of Northumberland, Cecil 
 was, by his means, again appointed secretary of state ; 
 and, receiving the honour of knighthood, was admitted 
 into the privy council.* 
 
 This sudden release and subsequent elevation, by the 
 enemy of his old patron, have exposed the motives of 
 Cecil to suspicion. It has been alleged, that he had a 
 secret understanding with Northumberland even before 
 the fall of Somerset, and that his new preferment was 
 the reward of his treachery. But while no grounds are 
 produced for these accusations, the events which they 
 are adduced to explain seem otherwise sufficiently ac- 
 counted for. In joining Northumberland, Cecil aban- 
 doned none of his principles ; for the same measures, 
 both in regard to religion and politics, were now pursued, 
 as under the protector : and if his conduct, in uniting 
 with the decided enemy of his patron, be thought little 
 consistent with honour or generosity, he only acted a 
 part which Somerset himself speedily imitated. Nor- 
 thumberland, having completed the degradation of his 
 rival, by extorting from him a public confession that 
 he had been guilty of rashness, folly, and indiscretion, 
 accounted him now so little formidable, that he ventured 
 to affect the praise of generosity, by restoring him, not 
 only to liberty, but to his seat in the council. Somerset, 
 as mean in adversity as ostentatious in his better for- 
 tune, gladly accepted the boon ; and, after all the indig- 
 nities which he had undergone, consented to give his 
 daughter, lady Jane Seymour, in marriage to lord Dud- 
 ley, the son of his adversary. 
 
 But the ambition of Northumberland, and the indis- 
 cretion of Somerset, soon converted their external ap- 
 pearances of amity into more fatal dissensions. Although 
 the late protector, by his imprudence and want of spirit, 
 had become much degraded in the public estimation, 
 yet, in the day of his humiliation, the envy once felt 
 * King Edward's Journal Stow's Annals.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 249 
 
 towards him subsided into a better feeling ; while the 
 pride and ambition of his rival failed not to excite 
 considerable odium. His reviving popularity awakened 
 the jealousy of Northumberland, and his indiscretion, 
 ere long, afforded a pretext for his destruction. While 
 the mortifications which he had experienced could not 
 fail to rankle in his bosom, his crafty antagonist endea- 
 voured to goad him on to some rash and criminal enter- 
 prise. The creatures of Northumberland, who gained 
 his confidence to precipitate his ruin, first inflamed his 
 resentment, and then caught his hasty expressions of 
 revenge ; they suggested to him plans for insurrection, 
 for assassinating Northumberland, and then disclosed 
 them as accusations against him. When a sufficient 
 number of such charges had been accumulated, Somerset 
 was suddenly arrested ; tried before a jury of peers, 
 among whom were Northumberland and some of his 
 principal enemies ; found guilty of a capital crime ; and 
 led, along with several of his friends, to the scaffold. 
 
 The part which Cecil acted, during these renewed 
 calamities of his early patron, seems more reconcilable 
 to prudence than to gratitude. It is said, that when 
 Somerset, some time before his arrest, sent for him, and 
 communicated to him his apprehensions, the secretary, 
 instead of suggesting any means to avoid his impending 
 danger, coldly replied, " That if he was innocent, he 
 might trust to that ; and if he were otherwise, he could 
 only pity him."* Pity, indeed, if he really felt it, was 
 all that he bestowed ; for it does not appear that he in- 
 terposed, either publicly or privately, to avert the destruc- 
 tion of his former patron. And when we consider the 
 character of Somerset, we must allow that such an inter- 
 position would have been as imprudent as it was likely 
 to be unavailing. The weakness and irresolution of this 
 nobleman were such, that no dependence could be placed 
 on his executing any scheme proposed for his safety ; and 
 as he was surrounded by spies who insinuated themselves 
 into his confidence, any beneficial intelligence commu- 
 
 * Kine Edward's Journal.
 
 250 BRITISH STATESMEN'. 
 
 nicated to him, could scarcely have failed to reach his 
 inveterate adversary. In these circumstances, Cecil, by 
 attempting the preservation of Somerset, would have in- 
 curred an imminent hazard of sharing in his destruction. 
 Without benefiting his patron, he would probably have 
 lost his fortune, his liberty, or his life ; leaving behind 
 him only the praise of unsuccessful generosity. 
 
 But whether we respect his prudence, or censure his 
 ingratitude on this occasion, we cannot but applaud his 
 conduct as a minister. While the court of England 
 teemed with cabals, which occupied the incessant atten- 
 tion of the other public men, the secretary was diligently 
 employed in executing his official duties, and in devising 
 schemes for the discharge of the public debt, or the im- 
 provement of commerce. There still remains a complete 
 statement of the king's debts in the month of February, 
 1551, printed from a manuscript drawn up by Cecil, 
 and which must have comprehended the whole of the 
 public responsibility at that period, since neither the 
 debts nor the revenues of the king were as yet separated 
 from those of the nation.* 
 
 An important change, effected about this time in the 
 commerce of London, is also attributed to his counsels. 
 The carrying trade of the north of Europe, and of Eng- 
 land in particular, had hitherto been engrossed, almost 
 exclusively, by the merchants of the Hanse Towns. As 
 the foreign intercourse, conducted through this channel, 
 was found particularly productive to the revenue, it be- 
 came an object with our monarchs to promote it to the 
 utmost ; and with this view, Henry III. induced a com- 
 pany of these merchants to settle in England, by the lure 
 of a patent containing various privileges, exempting them 
 from the heavy duties paid by other aliens, and placing 
 them nearly on a footing with natives. This corporation 
 was called, from their place of residence, the merchants 
 of the Steel-yard, and effectually excluded all rivals from 
 a competition other foreigners by their exclusive privi- 
 leges, and the English by their superior capital and skill. 
 
 * See this paper in Strype's Memorials of Edward VI., book U.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 251 
 
 They continued, accordingly, from the time of their set- 
 tlement, to engross nearly the whole continental trade of 
 England. Their commerce was advantageous to the na- 
 tives, as it opened a market to their produce, and induced 
 them to devote their labour and capital to agriculture and 
 manufactures ; but it was attended, in the eye of the 
 public, with various disadvantages. The gains of each 
 individual, who partook of this monopoly, were appa. 
 rently greater than those of the natives engaged in agri- 
 culture, manufactures, or internal commerce ; and the 
 collective wealth of these foreign merchants was doubly 
 conspicuous from their residence in one spot. The jea- 
 lousy of the English was strongly excited. They com- 
 plained that the natives had but toil for their portion, 
 while strangers ran away with all the profit. Besides 
 these imaginary evils, this mode of carrying on trade 
 was attended with some real disadvantages. As it was 
 chiefly conducted by foreign vessels and foreign seamen, 
 it afforded little accession to the maritime strength of the 
 country ; a circumstance which, on the breaking out of 
 a war, was felt as a serious evil. Moreover, these mer- 
 chants, on realising a fortune, were apt to depart, and 
 transfer to their own country that capital which, in the 
 hands of natives, would have improved the soil, and accele- 
 rated the industry of this realm. The native merchants 
 had often remonstrated against the privileges of these 
 foreigners; but Cecil seems to have been the first mi- 
 nister who effectually attended to their complaints. In 
 consequence of his representations to the council, the 
 merchants of the Steel-yard were deprived of their 
 charter, and subjected to the same impositions as other 
 aliens.* 
 
 From this measure, as it was speedily followed by a 
 large increase of the shipping and foreign commerce of 
 England, Cecil has derived much reputation ; yet, it is 
 but too indicative of the unacquaintance of the age with 
 the principles of trade. To abrogate the monopoly was 
 a measure of evident propriety, in as much as, like all 
 * Hayward's Life and Reign of Edward VI.
 
 252 BRITISH STATESMEN'. 
 
 monopolies, it tended to limit the extent of commercial 
 dealings, obliging our countrymen to sell their commo- 
 dities somewhat lower, and to pay for foreign articles 
 somewhat higher than they would have done had the 
 competition been open. But, in what way ought this ir- 
 regularity to have been remedied ? Not merely by can- 
 celling the privileges of the Steel-yard merchants, and 
 subjecting them to the same extra duties as other aliens, 
 but by putting all merchants, whether natives or foreign, 
 on a footing of equality. Such a measure would, it may 
 be alleged, have retarded the rise of the native merchants, 
 inferior as they then were to foreigners in capital and 
 experience : but in this, as in all other cases, the course 
 which industry and capital would of themselves have 
 taken, would have been the most advantageous to all 
 parties. Our merchants, confining themselves for a 
 season to the inland trade, it would have expanded more 
 promptly, when our foreign trade absorbed little of our 
 pecuniary means ; and the latter also would have fallen 
 eventually into their hands, in consequence not of acts of 
 exclusion, but of the various advantages possessed by 
 natives over foreigners. 
 
 But had Cecil, or any other statesman in that age, 
 attempted to admit foreigners on the footing of natives, 
 he would have been represented by public clamour as 
 aggravating the evil which he professed to remedy. The 
 disadvantages under which Cecil laboured are apparent 
 in the fate of another project, which he entertained for 
 the benefit of commerce. As the means of conveying 
 mercantile intelligence were in former times extremely 
 defective, and the regulations for levying the revenue 
 were very imperfect, it was usual to fix by law a staple 
 or regular market, for the chief commodities of a country, 
 and oblige all its inhabitants to convey them thither for 
 sale. Foreign merchants might thus reckon on a regular 
 market, and government had the best opportunity of 
 levying its imposts both on exports and imports. The 
 staple of our wool, and other chief articles of exportation, 
 was fixed by an early act of parliament in certain towns
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 253 
 
 of England, but was afterwards, in the reign of Ed- 
 ward III., wholly removed to Calais, which at that pe- 
 riod came into our possession.* It was thence transferred 
 to the flourishing but distant port of Antwerp, where it 
 still remained in the reign of Edward VI. Cecil, per- 
 ceiving the infinite disadvantages to which the export- 
 ation of England was subjected by this regulation, pro- 
 posed to abolish the staple at Antwerp, and, as a far 
 more desirable substitute, to open two free ports in Eng- 
 land ; one at Southampton, and another at Hull. A paper 
 is still extant, containing the whole of this scheme clearly 
 digested, exhibiting the arguments in its favour, and re- 
 futing the objections by which it might be opposed. But 
 his colleagues in office were too little advanced in com- 
 mercial knowledge, and too much engrossed with state 
 intrigues, to perceive the advantages or concur in the 
 execution of this project. 
 
 Cecil, in the mean time, did not neglect to cultivate 
 the attachment of the young king. That prince, whose 
 diligence, knowledge, and discretion, far exceeded his 
 years, seems to have been particularly delighted with a 
 man so eminently distinguished for these qualities. 
 The secretary was admitted into his inmost confidence, 
 and was supposed to have had no small share in the pro- 
 ductions ostensibly attributed to Edward. It is said 
 that the princess Mary, on receiving a letter from her 
 brother, exhorting her to abjure the errors of popery, 
 could not help exclaiming as she read it, " Ah ! Mr. 
 Cecil's pen has taken great pains here." Yet he never 
 employed his ascendancy over the young prince to pro- 
 cure extravagant grants, after the example which had 
 been set by Somerset, Northumberland, and the other 
 courtiers. Aware that a fortune accumulated by such 
 means always exposed the possessor to envy, and might 
 probably, in these unsettled times, be the cause of his 
 destruction, he preferred the slower but more secure 
 method of acquiring wealth by the economical manage- 
 ment of his regular salaries. By his appointment as 
 
 * 27 Edward III. cap. vii.
 
 254 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 chancellor of the order of the garter, his income now 
 received an addition of a hundred marks a year ; and it 
 appears that, after his father's decease, he also held the 
 post of master of the robes.* 
 
 Soon after this accession of honour and emolument, 
 he found himself exposed, by his official situation, to 
 dangers which all his prudence seemed insufficient to 
 avert. The young king, who, by the extraordinary 
 virtues and accomplishments of his early youth, had 
 taught the nation to look forward with fond expectation 
 to his more mature years, began to exhibit indubitable 
 symptoms of a rapid decline. Amidst the alarm which 
 this unexpected calamity diffused, the ambitious North- 
 umberland began to meditate more daring plans for the 
 confirmation of his power, and even undertook to fix the 
 succession to the crown in his own family. Four females 
 stood next in the order of inheritance : Mary and 
 Elizabeth, daughters of Henry VIII. ; Mary queen of 
 Scots, grand-daughter of Henry's eldest sister ; and the 
 duchess of Suffolk, daughter of his second sister. The 
 title of the last, although evidently posterior to the 
 others, Northumberland resolved to enforce as preferable 
 to the whole. He represented to Edward that his two 
 half-sisters, Mary and Elizabeth, having been declared 
 illegitimate by act of parliament, were for ever debarred 
 from the succession ; that the queen of Scots, having 
 been passed over in his father's will, was also to be con- 
 sidered as excluded ; and that, even had this objection 
 not existed, she ought to be prevented from reducing 
 England as well as Scotland to a province of France, 
 an event which, unless prevented by her exclusion, her 
 marriage with the dauphin rendered inevitable. Avail- 
 ing himself of the king's attachment to the protestant 
 religion, he depicted the dangers to which it would be 
 exposed, if such bigoted catholics as either of the 
 Marys ascended the throne ; and as this objection did 
 not apply to Edward's favourite sister Elizabeth, who had 
 
 * See a letter to him from sir Edward Dymocke, in Lodge's Illustrations 
 of British History, voL i. p. 185.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH, 255 
 
 been educated in the principles of the reformation, he 
 urged that it was impossible to devise any pretext for 
 excluding one sister, without excluding both. The 
 prince, enfeebled by disease, and surrounded by the 
 creatures of Northumberland, was at length overcome 
 by his arguments and importunities, and consented to fix 
 the succession in the duchess of Suffolk, who was will- 
 ing to wave her title in favour of her daughter, the lady 
 Jane Grey. To complete this artful scheme, Northum- 
 berland now procured the lady Jane in marriage to his 
 fourth son, lord Guilford Dudley, and enjoyed the pro- 
 spect of continuing to manage the affairs of the kingdom 
 at his pleasure, and of transmitting the kingdom to his 
 posterity. 
 
 For this alteration in the succession to the throne, North- 
 umberland obtained from the prince a patent, and re- 
 quired that it should be signed by all the members of the 
 privy council ; a concession which the dread of his ven- 
 geance extorted, even from those most averse to the trans- 
 action. Cecil, among the rest, affixed his name to the 
 patent ; but whether from inclination or compulsion has 
 been disputed. While he is charged by some with 
 having been very active in the enterprises of the duke, 
 and with having assisted in drawing up the instrument 
 for altering the succession*, he himself, in a memorial 
 which he afterwards drew up in his justification, asserts 
 that both threats and promises were employed in vain to 
 extort his concurrence in the attempt ; that he refused 
 to subscribe the patent as a privy councillor ; and that 
 he was at length only prevailed on, by the king's earnest 
 entreaty, to write his name as witness to the royal signa- 
 ture. The character of Cecil leaves us, indeed, no room 
 to suspect that he entered into the views of Northumber- 
 land farther than his own immediate safety required. He 
 might have been sufficiently willing, had a fair opportu- 
 nity offered, to set aside Mary, the next heiress, from 
 whose bigoted attachment to popery he had nothing to 
 hope, and every thing to apprehend. But the reasons 
 
 * Hayward, voL ii. p. 237.
 
 256 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 which might have led him to oppose Mary would have 
 induced him to support Elizabeth ; and he knew that the 
 objections against the title of lady Jane were too weighty 
 to be removed by the patent of a minor on his death- 
 bed. Although' parliament, with whom the ultimate 
 right of confirming or altering the order of succession 
 was acknowledged to reside, had enabled Henry VIII. 
 to dispose of the crown by will, yet, as it had not 
 empowered Edward to alter this disposition, his patent 
 could not confer a legal title till ratified by a new act of 
 the legislature. But amidst the general indignation ex- 
 cited by the ambition and rapacity of Northumberland, 
 was such a sanction likely to be obtained ? or, if ob- 
 tained, to ensure a general acquiescence ? Influenced 
 by such considerations, Cecil seems to have withdrawn 
 himself, as far as personal safety would allow, from an 
 enterprise originating in extravagant ambition, and likely 
 to terminate in the ruin of its abettors. It is said, that 
 when he found the project in agitation, he made such a 
 disposition of his effects as might give them the best 
 chance of security, in the event of his being imprisoned, 
 or obliged to quit the kingdom.* 
 
 On the death of Edward, Cecil found himself, along 
 with the rest of the privy council, in the power of 
 Northumberland ; but perceiving that total failure was 
 soon to overtake the illegal measures of that infatuated 
 nobleman, he resolutely refused to draw up the procla- 
 mation declaring the title of lady Jane, or to write in its 
 vindication ; and the duke was not then in a situation to 
 punish his disobedience. Soon afterwards he found 
 means, along with the other privy councillors, to escape, 
 and join Mary, who had already been proclaimed queen, 
 and who was pleased to receive him very graciously. As 
 he knew that, among her partisans, he had many ene- 
 mies, and that they had already made some unsuccessful 
 attempts to prejudice her against him, he took advantage 
 of her present favourable disposition, to obtain a general 
 pardon for whatever might have been culpable in his past 
 
 * Burners Hist of Reform. TO! ii. p. 233.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 257 
 
 conduct; and, with this indemnity, he determined for 
 the present to retire from public affairs. Mary, ac- 
 quainted with his sagacity and great talents for business, 
 was desirous to retain him in her service, and tendered 
 to him the appointment which he had hitherto held ; 
 but, as the change of his religion was an indispensable 
 condition, he could not be prevailed on to accept these 
 offers.* He was attached firmly and conscientiously to 
 the reformed church ; but had his religious principles 
 been less sincere, prudence might have withheld him 
 from embarking in the new government. The bigotry 
 of Mary, and the violence of her prime minister, bishop 
 Gardiner, made it easy to foresee that the restoration of 
 the catholic religion would be attempted by fire and 
 sword ; and in the conflict between the zeal of the 
 court, and the resistance of the great majority of the 
 nation, it was impossible not to anticipate sanguinary 
 executions and dangerous convulsions. Cecil appears to 
 have adopted the resolution of keeping aloof from the 
 cabals of either party, and of cultivating the private 
 friendship of some of the new ministers, without giving 
 any sanction to their public measures. By this means 
 he both provided for his own safety, and was enabled to 
 give occasional support to the cause which he favoured, 
 without exciting the jealousy and resentment of the 
 government. 
 
 The court soon became divided into two factions, of 
 which the one urged the extirpation of heretics by fire 
 and sword, while the other, confiding in the ultimate 
 success of what they deemed the true religion, were of 
 opinion that these violent methods would only harden 
 the minds of men against it. Of these parties, the 
 former was ruled by bishop Gardiner, a man very indif- 
 ferent about religion, but naturally of a severe and vio- 
 lent temper, and exasperated, by some injuries, against 
 the protestants ; while the moderate party was headed 
 by cardinal Pole, a man extremely devoted to his re- 
 ligious tenets, but too politic, if not too humane, to at- 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 11. 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 tempt their propagation by violence. Expecting the 
 safety of the protestants chiefly from the ascendancy of 
 the cardinal's counsels, Cecil attached himself warmly to 
 his interests. He had procured himself to be nominated 
 one of the honorary mission which had been sent by the 
 court to invite over this prelate, who resided in Italy at 
 the time of Mary's accession ; and he appears to have 
 exerted himself successfully in acquiring his confidence, 
 since we find him, in the following year, attending Pole 
 on an embassy to the continent. 
 
 It soon, however, became necessary for Cecil to take 
 a more open part in defence of the protestants. The 
 parliament having been induced, by the intrigues of 
 Gardiner, and the bribes which he scattered among the 
 members, to revive the old sanguinary laws against he- 
 retics, the court proceeded to carry them into execution 
 with the most unrelenting cruelty. Bishops, venerable 
 for age and virtue, were burnt in their own dioceses, and 
 women are said to have been thrown, in the agonies of 
 childbirth, into the midst of the flames.* Nothing could 
 exceed the horror of the cruelties perpetrated, or the 
 frivolity of the accusations on which the sufferers were 
 condemned. Arrested on mere suspicion, and without 
 having made any open profession of their creed, they 
 were allowed only the alternative of signing a list of re- 
 ligious articles presented to them, or of being committed 
 to the flames. All the established forms of law were 
 now abandoned, and the prosecution of heretics intrusted 
 by the crown to a set of commissioners, whose unlimited 
 powers to try and condemn any one on whom their sus- 
 picions might happen to alight, took away the protection 
 of innocence, and rendered the subjects the sport of 
 caprice or malignity. 
 
 A general horror and indignation were the natural 
 consequences of these cruelties ; and in the new parlia- 
 ment, which was summoned to meet in 1555, the court 
 was made to feel the preponderancy of the protestant 
 
 Burnet, vol. iii. p. 26i., from an account of these transactions written 
 or corrected by Cecil
 
 LORD BUBLEIGH. 2/>9 
 
 interest, and the futility of its sanguinary proceedings. 
 Notwithstanding the manifest danger of opposition, 
 several measures proposed by government were vehe- 
 mently resisted by the commons, and some wholly re- 
 jected. They were with difficulty prevailed on to pass 
 an act enabling the queen to restore to the church merely 
 those tenths, first-fruits, and impropriations, which re- 
 mained in the hands of the crown ; and could be in- 
 duced to grant a portion only of the supplies demanded, 
 though by no means exorbitant. They threw out two 
 bills relative to religion; one for incapacitating such 
 as were remiss in the prosecution of heretics from being 
 justices of the peace, and another for confiscating the 
 estates of those who had quitted the kingdom on the 
 score of religion.* 
 
 In this opposition to the measures of the court, Cecil, 
 who had been chosen, without solicitation, one of the 
 members for Lincolnshire, bore a distinguished part ; 
 and the rejection of the bill for confiscating the estates 
 of the exiles is, in particular, attributed to the force of 
 his eloquence. This manly conduct exposed him to 
 considerable danger, and he was once called before the 
 privy council ; but while the others involved in the same 
 accusation with him were sent to the Tower, he suc- 
 ceeded in obtaining a hearing before he should be com- 
 mitted, and made such a satisfactory defence as procured 
 his immediate acquittal.-]- The discretion of his conduct 
 had, indeed, softened the rancour of his religious oppo- 
 nents, and procured him many friends among the catho- 
 lics, though convinced of his decided attachment to the 
 protestant cause. The light in which his opposition in 
 this parliament appeared to himself, we learn from the 
 diary which he has left behind him : " On the 21st of 
 October," says he, " the parliament met at Westminster, 
 and I discharged my duty, as a member, with some 
 danger ; for although I had been elected against my in- 
 clination, yet I uttered my sentiments freely. I incurred 
 
 * Burnet, vol. ii. p. 322. 
 f Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 13. 
 S 2
 
 260 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 much displeasure by this conduct ; but it was better to 
 obey God than men." Having, in the next parliament, 
 been again chosen to represent the county of Lincoln, he 
 maintained the cause of the persecuted protestants with 
 the same discreet but undeviating resolution. 
 
 While Cecil, by the reserve and moderation of his 
 conduct, escaped the suspicion of the court, he was pri- 
 vately turning his views towards those changes in the 
 government, which he foresaw would soon take place. 
 It was every day more apparent that the princess Eliza- 
 beth would ascend the throne, and that her elevation 
 would not be long deferred. No prospect now remained 
 that Mary would leave offspring behind her, and the 
 distempers of her mind and body seemed rapidly to sub- 
 due her constitution. While a dropsy, which she had 
 at first mistaken for pregnancy, and aggravated by im- 
 proper treatment, daily impaired her strength, the bad 
 success of all her schemes for the restoration of popery, 
 the general hatred excited by her cruelties, the loss of 
 Calais, which was attributed to her negligence, the cold 
 return which Philip made to her ardent attachment, and 
 the resolution which he had formed of settling in Spain, 
 and abandoning her for ever, all preyed on her mind, 
 and hastened her decay. Yet though, in this state of 
 things, Cecil had every inducement to cultivate the fa- 
 vour of Elizabeth, it was only by incurring the most 
 imminent danger, that, surrounded as she was by the 
 spies of Mary, any communication could be held with 
 her. By uniting, however, dexterity and circumspection 
 with a cool intrepidity, he found means to open and 
 maintain a private correspondence ; and often conveyed 
 to her such intelligence as enabled her to avoid the 
 snares of her suspicious and vindictive sister. 
 
 The interval of leisure, which he at present enjoyed, 
 he seems to have diligently spent in digesting plans for 
 that order of things which he anticipated in the new 
 reign ; and so well had he matured his ideas, that he 
 was enabled to present Elizabeth, on the very day of her 
 accession, with a memorial, pointing out those affairs
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 
 
 261 
 
 which required instant despatch. Mindful of the favours 
 which she had received in her adversity, and gratified to 
 find a counsellor already prepared to give activity to her 
 government, Elizabeth hastened to reward and secure 
 his services. He was the first person sworn of her 
 privy council, and was at the same time created secre- 
 tary of state.* 
 
 From this time forward, Cecil may be considered as 
 the first minister of Elizabeth, and the principal adviser 
 of her measures. As he knew that on her life depended 
 both his prospects and his safety, since Mary queen of 
 Scots, the next heir, was a catholic, entirely directed by 
 her bigoted relatives of the house of Guise, his attach- 
 ment was sincere, and his exertions zealous. Elizabeth, 
 possessed of penetration to perceive, and judgment to 
 appreciate, his talents, rested with peculiar confidence 
 on his fidelity and tried abilities. Her passions, her 
 prejudices, her caprice, made her frequently act in op- 
 position to his sentiments, but none of her ministers or 
 favourites was so generally consulted ; and his cool, deli- 
 berate, weighty reasonings, often obtained, from her 
 better judgment, concessions to which her inclinations 
 were extremely averse. As it would be tedious to follow 
 the labours of Cecil in an administration of forty years, 
 we must now relinquish the narrative form, and attempt 
 an outline of his policy, under a few general heads, 
 taking as our text the grand questions which engaged 
 the solicitude of the queen and her minister in that age 
 of dissension and danger. This will lead us to examine 
 his policy in regard to religion ; his civil policy or admi- 
 nistration of home affairs ; his foreign policy, towards 
 the Low Countries, Spain, France, Scotland, and Mary 
 queen of Scots. 
 
 The measures relative to religion were those which 
 most incessantly harassed him during his administra- 
 tion, and which required the greatest caution and ma- 
 nagement, because his sentiments corresponded ill with 
 the inclinations of his sovereign. At the commencement 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 13. 
 
 s 3
 
 262 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 of the reign of Edward VI., the more gross absurd- 
 ities of the Romish church, which his father had for- 
 cibly retained, were abolished ; and a more rational 
 worship, both in substance and form, established by law. 
 Yet although many further changes were made in the 
 course of this reign, by archbishop Cranmer and the 
 other heads of the church, the reformation was still 
 considered incomplete. King Edward, in his diary, 
 laments that he was prevented, by the opposition of the 
 prejudiced, from restoring the primitive discipline ac- 
 cording to his heart's desire ; and in the preface to one 
 of the service-books, published by authority, the framers 
 observed, " that they had gone as far as they could in 
 reforming the church, considering the times they lived 
 in, and hoped that they who came after them would, as 
 they might, do more." * The lamented death of Edward 
 put a period, for the time, to the hopes of further im- 
 provement. Mary was no sooner seated on the throne, 
 than she restored the faith and forms of the catholic 
 church, acknowledged the supremacy of the pope, recon- 
 ciled her dominions to the see of Rome, and began, by 
 the most cruel exertions of her authority, to replunge 
 the people into that superstition and ignorance from 
 which they had just emerged. It was to the accession 
 of Elizabeth, who was known to be attached to the re- 
 formed religion, that the protestants now looked forward 
 as the period of their deliverance and triumph ; and, 
 Cecil, aware that no object could be more important 
 than to quiet the minds of men in this concern, had 
 urged it upon that princess as the first of her cares. 
 
 But the views of the queen and her minister, with 
 regard to the extent of the projected reformation, were 
 far from coinciding. Cecil had learnt, from recent 
 events both in his own and in foreign countries, how many 
 dangers and convulsions might be avoided in religious 
 changes, if government wisely took the lead. He had 
 also observed the channel towards which the current of 
 public opinion was strongly directed. The great major- 
 Neal'g Hist, of the Puritans, voL i. p. 73. edit. 1793.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 2O3 
 
 ity of the nation had seconded Edward and his council 
 in their successive measures in favour of the reformed 
 worship, and looked forward to further changes, when 
 the successor of that prince unfortunately attempted to 
 tear up his work from the foundation. But the extrava- 
 gant cruelties of Mary, although they intimidated many 
 into an apparent submission, aggravated the general de- 
 testation of the popish religion. The people, exasperated 
 to behold their countrymen groaning under the torture, 
 or expiring in the flames, now looked with horror, not 
 only on the tenets, but on the rites, the ceremonies, the 
 appendages, of a sanguinary church. Many English- 
 men who had sought refuge in exile, having observed 
 the tranquil and flourishing condition of states which 
 had entirely renounced both the tenets and rites of the 
 Romish church, hastened, on the accession of Elizabeth, 
 to apprise their countrymen of those happy effects, and 
 incite them to similar changes. To this state of public 
 sentiment Cecil might be desirous to accommodate the 
 ecclesiastical establishment of England. The favourite, 
 and confidential adviser of Edward, he seems to have 
 deeply imbibed the reforming spirit of that reign ; and 
 we find him acting as one of the commissioners who 
 prepared a purer code of canon laws, which the death of 
 the young monarch prevented from receiving the royal 
 sanction. 
 
 But for a thorough reformation the mind of Elizabeth 
 was by no means prepared. The superstitious tenets 
 which her father thought proper to retain had partly in- 
 sinuated themselves into her belief; while her imagina- 
 tion had become stiU more impressed with the mysterious 
 ceremonies and splendid array of the catholic worship. 
 She was therefore inclined to draw from the more ad- 
 vanced measures of her brother's reign, and would have 
 been content with a very few changes in doctrine and 
 form. Yet Cecil had very powerful arguments to induce 
 her concurrence with his plans. He could represent that 
 the voice of the nation was loudly in favour of the re- 
 formation : that the ill success of her sister, and the 
 s 4
 
 264 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 odium which she had incurred, proved the danger of 
 attempting to maintain the worship of Rome : that the 
 protestants, both at home and abroad, looked up to her 
 as their only hope, and would prove the firmest sup- 
 porters of her government : that the catholics, on the 
 other hand, acknowledged Mary queen of Scots as the 
 legitimate heiress of the throne, and were ready to make 
 the most dangerous attempts in support of her title : 
 that the more completely the minds of her subjects be- 
 came alienated from the doctrines and rites of the Roman 
 church, the more decidedly they would be united against 
 the claims of her rival : and that it was impossible to be 
 reconciled to Rome without giving up that supremacy in 
 religious matters which her father had accounted among 
 his proudest titles.* 
 
 By such considerations Cecil obtained the consent of 
 Elizabeth to the restoration of the protestent worship ; 
 but the plan which he first laid before the privy council, 
 and afterwards before parliament, for the new establish- 
 ment, did not, in its provisions, go beyond that which 
 had been adopted at the commencement of Edward 
 VI.'s reign, t Yet even to the moderate retrenchments 
 thus made in the catholic worship, the queen was with 
 
 * When we look into the arguments which Camden and Burnet have, 
 on this occasion, put into the mouth of Cecil, we shall perceive that these 
 historians have framed his discourse rather from his known principles and 
 the circumstances of the times, than from any real documents. Yet it must 
 be acknowledged, that the discourses which they attribute to him possess a 
 verisimilitude that does not pass the licence usually permitted to historians. 
 But Mr. Hume, although he expressly refers to these writers as his authori- 
 ties, not only new-models and varies their account, but even makes Cecil 
 speak like a fellow sceptic of the eighteenth century. According to him, 
 the minister assures his sovereign that she may safely venture:on any re- 
 formation she chooses, for " the nation had of late been so much accustomed 
 to these revolutions, that men had lost all idea of truth and falsehood on 
 such subjects." This representation, of which no trace is to be found in 
 Camden or Burnet, is the more objectionable, that it is inconsistent, not only 
 with verisimilitude, but with fact That Cecil, so distinguished as a zealous 
 protestant, should have spoken thus lightly of religious tenets, is as incre- 
 dible as that Elizabeth, who, on several occasions, was ready to sacrifice her 
 interests to her bigotry, should listen to such a discourse : and still more 
 absurd is it to suppose that a minister so sagacious, and a princess so pene- 
 trating, should have so egregiously mistaken the state of men's minds, as to 
 believe them wholly indifferent to those very changes to which so many had 
 signalised their attachment at the stake, and all the bishops affirmed their 
 aversion by a resignation of their benefices. The ferment of religious 
 opinions was, perhaps, never greater than at that very period. 
 
 f Bacon's Works, voL iv. p. 374. edit. 1740.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 
 
 265 
 
 difficulty reconciled ; and she went so far as to declare 
 that she would not have passed the act for these changes, 
 had it not contained one saving clause which entitled her 
 " to ordain and publish such further ceremonies and 
 rules as may be for the advancement of God's glory, and 
 edifying his church, and the reverence of Christ's holy 
 mysteries and sacraments."* 
 
 But although Cecil exerted himself strenuously to 
 procure reformation in the church, his cool and tem- 
 perate mind was little moved by religious animosities, 
 and was willing to tolerate the catholics, provided they 
 engaged in no dangerous attempts against the state. The 
 maxims on which Elizabeth and her ministers professed 
 to found their conduct in matters of religion were, first, 
 " that consciences are not to be forced, but to be won and 
 reduced by the force of truth, by the aid of time, and the 
 use of all good means of instruction and persuasion ;" 
 and, secondly, " that causes of conscience, when they 
 exceed their bounds, and prove to be matter of faction, lose 
 their nature ; and that sovereign princes ought distinctly 
 to punish the practice or contempt, though coloured 
 with the pretences of conscience and religion."-|- The 
 first of these maxims corresponded entirely with the 
 moderation of Cecil ; and the second, although very ca- 
 pable of interpretations, according to the mildness or 
 violence of the expounders, was, in his hands, a suffi- 
 ciently safe principle. While the catholics, enraged at 
 the sagacity with which he detected, and the vigour 
 with which he counteracted, all their enterprises, charged 
 him loudly with cruelty towards them, they still were 
 unable to produce any instance in which his severity 
 exceeded what the immediate security of government 
 appeared to demand. J
 
 26'6' BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 The queen still gave strong indications of an attach- 
 ment to the forms of the old religion. Although prevailed 
 on to command the more obnoxious monuments of 
 idolatry to be removed from the churches ; yet the ser- 
 vice in her own chapel was still attended with such 
 ceremonies and splendour, that foreigners could distin- 
 guish it from the Roman only by its being performed in 
 English. Here the choristers appeared in their sur- 
 plices, and the priests in their copes : the altar, in the 
 midst of which stood a massy crucifix of silver, was fur- 
 nished with rich plate, and two gilt candlesticks with 
 lighted candles : the service on solemn festivals was sung 
 not only with the sound of organs, but of cornets, sack- 
 buts, and other musical instruments : and, that nothing 
 might be wanting to its ancient solemnity, the cere- 
 monies observed by the knights of the garter in their 
 adoration towards the altar, which had been abolished 
 by king Edward, and revived by queen Mary, were now 
 retained.* As Elizabeth advanced in years, these pro- 
 pensities seem gradually to have increased ; for, though 
 she was obliged to guard against the catholics as her in- 
 veterate enemies, though she had been excommunicated 
 by the pope, and lived in perpetual danger from the 
 plots, insurrections, and invasions of his partisans, yet 
 Cecil found considerable difficulty in dissuading her from 
 bringing the state of the church nearer the old religion. 
 It was only by a firm and spirited interposition that he 
 could prevent her from absolutely prohibiting the mar- 
 riage of the clergy ; and she is said to have often re- 
 pented that she had gone so far in her concessions.t 
 When the dean of St. Paul's, in a sermon preached 
 before her, had spoken with some disapprobation of the 
 sign of the cross, she called aloud to him from her closet, 
 to desist from that ungodly digression, and return to his 
 
 as profess themselves, by obedience to the pope, to be no subjects to the 
 queen. And although their outward pretence be, to be sent from the 
 seminaries to convert people to their religion, yet, without reconciling of 
 them from their obedience to the queen, they never give them absolution. 
 Such in our realm as refuse to come to our churches, and yet do not discover 
 their obedience to the queen, be taxed with fines, according to the law, 
 without danger of their lives." Birch's Memoirs, vol. i. p. 94. 
 * Neal, voL L p. 144. t Ibid - P I 58 -
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 
 
 26? 
 
 text. On another occasion, when one of her chaplains 
 had preached a sermon in defence of the real presence, 
 which he would scarcely have ventured to do had not her 
 sentiments been well understood, she openly gave him 
 thanks for his pains and piety.* The protestants, 
 strongly united as they were to her by every tie of in- 
 terest, could not, without some murmurs and indignation, 
 observe her predilection for the rites of their opponents. 
 But while Cecil found Elizabeth ready to show the 
 catholics every indulgence which the public safety could 
 admit, all his influence and entreaties were insufficient 
 to procure a similar lenity for another class of her sub- 
 jects. A considerable portion of the people eagerly de- 
 sired a more thorough reformation than had been ac- 
 complished under king Edward; and the protestants soon 
 became divided into those who conformed and those who 
 would not conform to the institutions of Elizabeth. Yet, 
 since the nonconformists, or puritans (for so they were 
 now called from affecting a superior purity in worship 
 and morals), differed from the adherents of the church 
 in no point of faith, but merely in certain external forms, 
 a few concessions on either side might have prevented 
 the disunion. But this was not the age of mutual for- 
 bearance, and the party of the established church were 
 ill prepared for limitations to the interference of go- 
 vernment. They did not see that, while it was the 
 duty of government to provide a competent number of 
 well qualified religious teachers, and to draw up regu- 
 lations for their direction in respect both to the substance 
 and the mode of their instructions, it was equally its 
 duty to go no further, and to beware of turning their 
 proposed benefits into oppression, by forcing obnoxious 
 opinions and forms on the public. Elizabeth, holding 
 very different sentiments from these, not only prescribed 
 peculiar forms for the religious worship of her people, 
 but was determined that they should use no other. To 
 these the puritans objected, because they had been pre- 
 viously employed in the popish worship as mystical 
 * Warner's Ecclesiast. Hist. vol. ii. p. 427.
 
 268 
 
 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 symbols, and were associated in the minds of the people 
 with the grossest superstition. No worldly consideration 
 would induce them to assume what they accounted ap- 
 pendages of idolatry ; while the queen, on her part, pre- 
 pared to employ all her authority in support of the 
 prescribed forms. 
 
 Finding that her council, the ablest and wisest council 
 that England ever saw, were decidedly averse to measures 
 which threatened to involve the nation in dangerous 
 dissensions, she resolved to effect her purpose by means 
 of some of the bishops, particularly archbishop Parker, 
 who readily and zealously entered into her views.* 
 The severities to which these men now proceeded were 
 only surpassed by the frivolity of their ostensible cause. 
 A fervent attachment to the use of surplices, corner- 
 caps, tippets, the cross in baptism, and the ring in mar- 
 riage, were, in their eyes, the distinguishing characteristics 
 of a Christian ; and any dislike to these forms was ac- 
 counted a sufficient crime to subject the most learned 
 and pious clergyman to imprisonment and exile ; or, as 
 a mitigated punishment, to be turned out of his living, 
 and consigned with his family to indigence. The most 
 pernicious effects necessarily flowed from these severities: 
 while the church was weakened by the loss of many able 
 divines, and degraded by the introduction of men who 
 could barely read the prayer-book and write their own 
 names, the people began every where to collect around 
 their expelled teachers, and to form conventicles apart 
 from the establishment. Yet these mischievous con- 
 sequences only set the queen and her bishops on framing 
 new statutes to reach the refractory ; and at length even 
 the laity were brought within their grasp, by an act 
 which provided that non-attendance at public worship 
 in the parish churches should be punished with impri- 
 sonment, banishment, and, if the exile returned, with 
 death. An arbitrary commission was appointed with full 
 powers to bring all religious offenders to punishment ; 
 and as any resistance to the injunctions of the queen, as 
 
 * Neal, voL 1. p. 192.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 269 
 
 supreme head of the church, was at length construed 
 into sedition and treason, many subjects of unquestioned 
 loyalty were imprisoned, banished, and brought to ruin. 
 Nothing could exceed the imperious demeanour which 
 some of the prelates, confident of royal support, now 
 assumed. Archbishop Parker having, from a wish to 
 display his authority, commanded one of his suffragans 
 to suppress certain meetings which the clergy of the 
 same neighbourhood were accustomed to hold for their 
 mutual improvement, the privy council, who looked on 
 these exercises as extremely beneficial, since they greatly 
 contributed to diffuse knowledge at a period when the 
 clergy in general were ill instructed, countermanded 
 this injunction of the primate, and ordered that these 
 meetings should receive every encouragement. The 
 prelate, however, having represented to the queen the 
 danger to which her supremacy would be exposed, if 
 he, her vicegerent, should thus be counteracted, readily 
 procured her direct interference in support of his autho- 
 rity ; and the council had the mortification to find the 
 exercises, as they were called, suppressed not only in 
 one diocese, but throughout the kingdom.* At one 
 time, we find the whole council soliciting the haughty 
 primate in vain, in behalf of clergymen distinguished 
 for learning and piety, whom he had, on some frivolous 
 pretext, expelled from their benefices t ; at another, we 
 find them, with as little effect, threatening him with 
 the penalties of the law, which he had greatly exceeded 
 in his severities. J At last, archbishop Parker ren- 
 dered himself so obnoxious, that the queen found it 
 prudent to allay the popular clamour by stopping short 
 his career; but this produced very little alteration in 
 the mind of Elizabeth ; for when his successor, the 
 moderate Grindal, refused to enforce some of her in- 
 junctions, she did not hesitate, by an extraordinary 
 exertion of her supremacy, to suspend him from his 
 functions, and meditated even to deprive him altogether. 
 
 * Life of Parker, p. 461. t Neal, vol. i. p. 373. 
 
 J Letter of the Lords of Counpil, ibid. p. 38.3.
 
 270 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 Whitgift, the succeeding primate, taught by this example, 
 proceeded to severities which Parker would not have 
 ventured to exercise, nor the queen, in the earlier part 
 of her reign,. have countenanced. 
 
 The efforts of Cecil, in an individual capacity, were 
 equally unavailing in these days of intolerance. At 
 first, his high office and known influence with the queen 
 overawed the more violent prelates, and he was enabled 
 to deliver several persons from their resentment. But 
 when it became known that the prejudices of her majesty 
 were too powerful to be counteracted by the united 
 voice of her council, his remonstrances, his threats, his 
 entreaties, in favour of the oppressed nonconformists, 
 were treated with equal neglect. The university of 
 Cambridge, of which he was chancellor, had, much to 
 their honour, made a bold and. manly stand in support 
 of freedom of opinion, and he had succeeded in main- 
 taining their privileges against the attempts of several 
 of the bishops * ; but when that learned body ventured 
 to declare openly against corner-caps and surplices, the 
 indignation of these prelates and the queen became so 
 implacable, that he was obliged to abandon them to the 
 rigorous injunctions of their adversaries, t Even after 
 he had attained the highest office in the state, his soli- 
 citations in behalf of persecuted individuals, in whom 
 he was interested, were without effect J ; and his own 
 domestic chaplain, supported by the benchers of the 
 Temple, whose lecturer he also was, could not escape 
 the rigour of the government party. 
 
 Cecil, as well as the other ministers, were sometimes 
 put on the ungrateful task of acting as the organs of the 
 queen's mandates against the nonconformists. Perhaps 
 it might have been more manly to have refused this 
 submission, and have renounced his office rather than 
 his independence ; but he knew, that, out of office, he 
 could yield no protection whatever to the cause which 
 he favoured ; it was his policy to temporise rather than 
 
 * Letter of the Lords of Council, Neal, vol. i. p. 195. 
 
 t Ibid. 196. t Ibid. 252. 306. 319. 381. &c. \ Ibid. 390.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 271 
 
 violently resist ; and to procure, by temperate and per- 
 severing remonstrances, such partial changes in the 
 measures which he disapproved, as would not have been 
 granted to an avowed and resolute opposition. Yet, at 
 times, the impolitic severities of the prelates induced 
 him to assume a tone of censure and authority, in which 
 he never indulged unless his indignation was greatly 
 roused. Archbishop Whitgift having drawn up a long 
 list of captious articles, which the clergy were either to 
 answer to his satisfaction, or to be suspended, and having 
 proceeded, by means of it, to harass those who were 
 obnoxious to him, Cecil attempted to stop his proceed- 
 ings by the following letter : 
 
 " It may please your grace, 
 
 " I am sorry to trouble you so oft as I do, but I am 
 more troubled myself, not only with many private peti- 
 tions of sundry ministers, recommended for persons of 
 credit, and peaceable in their ministry, who are greatly 
 troubled by your grace and your colleagues in commis- 
 sion ; but I am also daily charged by counsellors and 
 public persons, with neglect of my duty, in not staying 
 your grace's vehement proceedings against ministers, 
 whereby papists are greatly encouraged, and the queen's 
 safety endangered. I have read over your twenty-four 
 articles, found in a Romish style, of great length and 
 curiosity, to examine all manner of ministers in this 
 time, without distinction of persons, to be executed ex 
 ojficio mero. And I find them so curiously penned, so 
 full of branches and circumstances, that I think the 
 inquisition of Spain used not so many questions to com- 
 prehend and to trap their priests. I know you canonists 
 can defend these with all their particles ; but surely, 
 under correction, this judicial and canonical sifting poor 
 ministers is not to edify or reform. And, in charity, I 
 think they ought not to answer all these nice points, 
 except they were notorious papists or heretics. I write 
 with the testimony of a good conscience. I desire the 
 peace and unity of the church. I favour no sensual
 
 272 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 and wilful recusant ; but I conclude, according to my 
 simple judgment, this kind of proceeding is too much 
 savouring of the Romish inquisition, and is a decree 
 rather to seek for offenders than to reform any. It is 
 not charitable to send poor ministers to your common 
 register, to answer upon so many articles at one instant, 
 without a copy of the articles or their answers. I pray 
 your grace bear with this one (perchance) fault, that I 
 have willed the ministers not to answer these articles 
 except their consciences may suffer them." 
 
 To this spirited letter the archbishop returned an 
 elaborate reply, in which he defended his proceedings ; 
 and Cecil, perceiving that it was in vain to remonstrate, 
 only replied, " that, after reading his grace's long 
 answer, he was not satisfied in the point of seeking, by 
 examination, to have ministers accuse themselves, and 
 then punish them for their own confessions; that he 
 would not call his proceedings captious, but they were 
 scarcely charitable." Whitgift rejoined, by sending 
 him other papers in his own justification, and endea- 
 voured to convince him, that if archbishops and bishops 
 should be driven to use proofs by witnesses only, the 
 execution of the law would be partial, their charges in 
 procuring and producing witnesses intolerable, and their 
 proceedings altogether too slow and circumscribed for 
 extinguishing the sectaries.* 
 
 Cecil was by no means satisfied with these reasonings 
 of the prelate, and therefore united with the rest of the 
 council in sending him a still stronger remonstrance, in 
 which they complained that the most diligent, learned, 
 and zealous pastors, were deprived of their livings for a 
 few points respecting unimportant ceremonies ; while 
 the most ignorant and notoriously profligate characters 
 were allowed to retain their cures unmolested, provided 
 they submitted their consciences without reserve to their 
 superiors. That the primate might not plead ignorance 
 of the alleged abuses, the council sent with this letter a 
 
 * Strype's Life of Whitgift, p. lf>0.
 
 LORD BUBLEIGH. 273 
 
 list of names, in three columns, one of learned and 
 worthy ministers deprived, a second of ignorant and 
 vicious persons continued, and a third of pluralists and 
 non-residents. But these remonstrances, as they were 
 not enforced by the arm of power, served only to exas- 
 perate the archbishop ; and the same violent measures 
 continued to be pursued with unremitting activity. 
 
 The ministers of Elizabeth, besides their unwilling- 
 ness to occasion internal dissensions, seem to have feared 
 that the exorbitant power entrusted to the superior 
 clergy, for enforcing their forms, might give the protest- 
 ants the undue ascendancy possessed by the church of 
 Rome. Sir Francis Knollys, one of the ministers, in a 
 letter to his colleague Cecil, calls some of Whitgift's or- 
 dinances articles of inquisition, highly prejudicial to the 
 royal prerogative.* And, indeed, there seemed to be 
 reasonable grounds for alarm ; since some of the clergy 
 began, after the example of the church of Rome, to give 
 hints of a divine right, which, by a wonderful concate- 
 nation, had been transmitted to them from the very days 
 of the apostles.-]- On the other hand, it was easy to 
 foresee that the puritans, pushed to extremities, would 
 begin to question that power from which their hardships 
 proceeded ; and, becoming more exasperated against the 
 church, would begin to associate with their earnest desire 
 for ecclesiastical reformation an expectation of changes 
 in the government which supported it. But the peculiar 
 circumstances of the times prevented these dispositions, 
 however evident, from leading, during Elizabeth's reign, 
 to any dangerous consequences. The puritans, as well as 
 all other protestants, fondly looked on her as their refuge 
 against the intolerable cruelty of the catholics ; and, 
 even when they felt themselves to be the objects of her 
 aversion, they, as well as their brethren in Scotland, en- 
 
 * Neal, vol. i. p. 444. 
 
 + These ideas were now promulgated by Bancroit ; but Cranraer had so 
 fully considered himself as an officer acting by the king's authority, and was 
 BO well convinced that his episcopal power ended, like that of the other 
 officers, with the life of the monarch who conferred it, that, on the death 
 of Henry VIII. he refused to exercise any jurisdiction, until he received a 
 new commission from king Edward. 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274; BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 tered into associations for the defence of her person and 
 government. 
 
 In civil transactions, the moderate and cautious max- 
 ims of Cecil had a far more conspicuous ascendant. 
 Considering as the happiest condition of a nation a state 
 of unbroken peace, in which the people might proceed 
 in the improvement of their circumstances by contented 
 industry, he was the strenuous advocate of every mode- 
 rate and conciliatory measure. Meriting, above almost all 
 statesmen, the character of a safe politician, his prin- 
 ciples of government were salutary at all times, but pe- 
 culiarly fortunate in the dangerous and delicate period 
 when he lived. 
 
 From the commencement of his administration under 
 Elizabeth, he proceeded, as he had done during the 
 short reign of Edward, in a gradual amelioration of the 
 internal state of the country. One of his first measures 
 was to reinstate the coin of the realm, which had been so 
 much debased during the preceding reigns as to prove 
 extremely prejudicial to trade, both at home and abroad. 
 While the shilling, which, in thefirst yearsof HenryVIIL, 
 contained 118 grains of fine silver, was, in the latter part of 
 his reign^ reduced to forty, and, in the reign of Edward, to 
 twenty; the money price of every thing was, by this means, 
 both exorbitantly increased, and rendered extremely un- 
 certain.* In transactions with foreign merchants, and 
 even among the natives themselves, the difference between 
 the real and nominal value of the coin was a source of end- 
 less disputes ; and the popular discontents which ensued 
 were both loud and general. Some attempts had been 
 made to remedy the evil ; but proving abortive, from the 
 scarcity of bullion, and the want of perseverance on the 
 part of government, the prospect of amendment was now 
 deemed almost hopeless. Cecil, however, was strongly 
 impressed with the great advantages which would result 
 from a restoration of the coin; and having been con- 
 vinced, from a mature consideration which he had given 
 
 * I<owndes's Extract from the Mint, in Locke's Essay on Coin, p. 69.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 275 
 
 to the subject, even in the reign of Edward, that the 
 preceding failures were the result of mismanagement, he 
 prevailed on Elizabeth to commence the undertaking 
 without delay, and gradually, but resolutely, to proceed 
 as her means would allow. To render the people more 
 eager to bring the base money into the mint, its current 
 value was reduced by proclamation ; and new gold and 
 silver coin, of the standard weight and value, being 
 issued in exchange, the money of England, from an ex- 
 cessive debasement, soon became the heaviest and finest 
 in Europe. 
 
 But the measures which the state of public affairs 
 obliged him to pursue were not always so evidently bene- 
 ficial, or so generally acceptable. Aware, however, that 
 the nation, if convinced that the plans of government 
 were for their advantage, would concur in them far more 
 certainly than from a dread of authority, he was anxious 
 to secure the public opinion, and procure obedience 
 rather by persuasion than command. He advised Eliza- 
 beth, as the first act of her reign, to summon a parlia- 
 ment. Here he introduced his proposition for religious 
 reformation, and called on the catholics to reply freely to 
 the arguments which he advanced. In the succeeding 
 period of the reign, however, the bold doctrines of the 
 puritans, and the queen's exceeding aversion to any dis- 
 cussion which might touch her prerogative, prevented 
 him from employing this channel for the defence of his 
 measures ; yet he seems occasionally to have adopted the 
 practice of bringing political transactions before parlia- 
 ment. There is still preserved a very clear exposition 
 of the designs of Philip II. of Spain, which he delivered 
 on one occasion in the house of lords, and the heads of 
 which he afterwards transmitted to the speaker, for the 
 information of the commons.* 
 
 In the press he found a more constant and effectual 
 method of influencing public opinion. As he never un- 
 dertook any political measure without due deliberation, 
 he concluded that the same reasons which weighed with 
 
 * Strype's Annals, vol. iv. p. 107. 
 T 2
 
 276 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 him would weigh with the nation at large. Though in- 
 volved in a vast maze of public business, he did not fail 
 to bestow a portion of his time in justifying to the world 
 both the measures of his government, and his own pri- 
 vate conduct. Among the salutary effects of his political 
 writings, it is mentioned that they contributed much to 
 retain the people in their allegiance during the danger- 
 ous insurrections which succeeded Norfolk's first conspi- 
 racy. There are still extant several of his pieces on that 
 occasion, in which he paints the folly and danger of the 
 rebels, the profligate characters of their ringleaders, and 
 the miseries which must inevitably overtake them in the 
 event of defeat.* To the many defamatory libels which 
 the Jesuits published, during his administration, against 
 Elizabeth and her ministers, it was his constant practice 
 to publish replies. He knew too well the impression 
 made by uncontradicted calumnies, to let them pass un- 
 exposed. Silent contempt, he perceived, might be re- 
 presented as proceeding from conscious guilt j and to 
 suppress the propagation of slanders by force, would 
 seem to betray both an inability to refute them, and a 
 dread of their effects. He knew that better arguments 
 could always be found in support of truth than of false- 
 hood, and that it was the fault of the reasoner if the 
 cause of right did not appear to the greatest advantage. 
 The great facility of composition, which he had acquired 
 in the earlier period of his life, proved of infinite im- 
 portance to him in these voluminous apologies.t 
 
 To diffuse information among the people, and render 
 them capable of comprehending sound reasoning on 
 public business, was a favourite object with Cecil. In 
 contradiction to the absurd idea, that ignorance is the 
 parent of good order, that men will prove the best sub- 
 jects when they bestow no thought on their social rela- 
 tions, it was the maxim of this sagacious statesman, 
 " that where the people were well taught, the king had 
 
 See Camden, Strype, &a 
 
 t Many of them are published in Strype, and many still remain in 
 manuscript.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 277 
 
 ever good obedience of his subjects."* Considering the 
 church as the grand channel for the moral as well as re- 
 ligious instruction of the people, he earnestly laboured 
 to fill every ecclesiastical office with able, learned, and 
 active teachers. To impress these sentiments on his 
 sovereign, as well as his political colleagues, he warned 
 them that " where there wanted a good ministry, there 
 were ever bad people ; for they that knew not how to 
 serve God would never obey the king." j- 
 
 Fortunate had it been for the fame of Cecil, if his 
 accommodating policy, his desire to gratify the queen 
 without incensing the people, could always have been 
 carried into effect by means equally praiseworthy. But 
 Elizabeth's passion for uncontrolled power sometimes led 
 him into measures, or at least into schemes, which would 
 seem to indicate that his regard to public opinion arose 
 rather from the love of tranquillity, than from concern 
 for the liberties of the nation. Of this description were 
 some plans which he proposed for augmenting the royal 
 revenue, without having recourse to parliament. To this 
 last resource Elizabeth had a peculiar aversion ; and, 
 rather than endure the disquisitions and remonstrances 
 from which the commons could now with much dif- 
 ficulty be restrained, she was willing to relieve her 
 pressing exigencies by alienating the crown lands, and 
 entailing irremediable embarrassment on her successors. 
 Cecil seems to have been desirous to avert these ruinous 
 alienations, and yet anxious to gratify the queen by 
 procuring supplies independent of the parliament. One 
 scheme for this purpose, which he proposed in a speech 
 to Elizabeth and her council, was to erect a court for 
 the correction of all abuses, invested with a general 
 inquisitorial authority over the whole kingdom, and 
 empowered to punish defaults by fines for the royal ex- 
 chequer. He urges the queen to the adoption of this 
 measure by the example of her grandfather, Henry VII., 
 who by such means greatly augmented his revenue ; and 
 recommends that the court, to render its operations more 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 55. t Ibid. 
 
 T 3
 
 278 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 effectual, should proceed " as well by the direction and 
 ordinary course of the laws ; as by the virtue of her ma- 
 jesty's supreme regiment and absolute power, from 
 whence law proceeded." From this institution he ex- 
 pected a greater revenue than Henry VIII. derived from 
 the abolition of the abbeys, and all the forfeitures of eccle- 
 siastical revenues.* Strange! that a minister who, on 
 other occasions, so wisely regarded the popular feeling, 
 should propose a scheme which must have revived the 
 odious extortions of Empson and Dudley. Refined spe- 
 culations on the motives of men are almost always false, 
 or we might be induced to suppose that Cecil, on this 
 occasion, was desirous to turn the attention of the queen 
 from more practicable methods of procuring illegal sup- 
 plies, by directing it to schemes which could never be 
 executed. 
 
 Another financial suggestion of his was entitled to 
 approbation, if we make due allowance for the abuses 
 and ignorance of the age. Although it was the acknow- 
 ledged prerogative of the commons that no tax should 
 be levied on the people without their consent, yet the 
 kings of England had found various means to elude this 
 right. Of these, one of the most successful was to levy 
 money under the name of a benevolence, or voluntary 
 loan, which, however, scarcely differed in any thing from 
 a tax. Its amount was regulated by the government, 
 and those from whom it was demanded were obliged to 
 comply : the lenders received no interest while it re- 
 mained in the hands of the public ; and the principal, if 
 ever returned, was usually detained till a very distant 
 period.t Yet such was the effect of a name, that people 
 acquiesced patiently in this abuse ; and the same com- 
 
 * Strype, AnnaL vol. iv. p. 334. 
 
 f The methods practised in levying these forced voluntary loans are 
 developed in a curious paper of instructions from the council of Henry VIII. 
 to the commissioners for the county of Derby, inserted in Lodge's Illustra- 
 tions, vol. i. p. 71. The commissioners are here enjoined to employ every 
 art that may work upon the hopes or fears of the person applied to; and if, 
 after all, he obstinately refuses to comply, they are then ordered to swear 
 him to secresy in regard to what has passed, that his example may not 
 influence others. But, occasionally, much more severe measures were 
 resorted to against the refractory ; and from a document in the same col- 
 lection (vol. i. p. 82.), we find Richard Reed, an alderman of London, who 
 refused to contribute, forcibly carried off, by the king's order, to serve as a 
 common soldier .'
 
 LORI) BURLEIGH. 2?9 
 
 inons, who would have taken fire at an attempt to levy a 
 subsidy by the monarch's sole authority, were brought 
 to countenance his no less oppressive borrowing. As the 
 benevolences were imposed at the discretion of the offi- 
 cers of government, who had also a power to accept what 
 they chose to account a reasonable excuse, they were 
 levied in the most partial and injurious manner. Some 
 individuals were reduced to ruin by these exactions; while 
 others, of equal property, were allowed to escape them 
 altogether. Cecil, to render this practice less unfair in 
 itself, and less severe on individuals, hazarded a propo- 
 sition to raise a general loan on the people, equivalent in 
 amount to a subsidy, and imposed according to the same 
 proportions.* 
 
 It was with a more successful issue, and much hap- 
 pier example, that he strenuously recommended a rigid 
 frugality as the only effectual means of carrying on the 
 government, without compromising its authority, or en- 
 gendering public discontents. Elizabeth had the prudence 
 to coincide with these economical views ; and she has 
 hence deservedly acquired the reputation of husbanding 
 her resources with the utmost skill, and making very few 
 demands on the property of her people. Although sur- 
 rounded by powerful enemies, engaged in frequent wars, 
 obliged to disburse large sums for the support of her 
 friends abroad, and the suppression of dangerous enter- 
 prises at home, she conducted her government at less 
 expense, in proportion to her undertakings, than any 
 sovereign in our history. The large debts contracted by 
 her father and sister, with which she found the crown 
 encumbered at her accession, amounted, it is said, to 
 four millions, an enormous sum in that aget : yet these 
 she quickly discharged, and, at her death, could rank her 
 most potent allies among her debtors. The states of 
 Holland owed her 800,000/., and the king of France 
 450,OOOZ. J 
 
 From this strict economy, of which Cecil never losi. 
 
 * Haynes, p. 519. f D'Ewes, p. 473. 
 
 t Winwood, vol. i. p. 29. 54. 
 
 T 4
 
 280 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 sight, there resulted the most important advantages. As 
 the people were not harassed with exactions, the govern- 
 ment of Elizabeth was extremely popular, at a period 
 when the dangerous machinations of her enemies, both 
 at home and abroad, rendered popularity indispensable 
 to her safety. Without illegal extortions, or contests with 
 her parliament, she was enabled to maintain her inde- 
 pendence, and to avoid concessions to which her haughty 
 spirit could not submit. She was even able occasionally 
 to acquire the praise of disinterestedness and generosity, 
 by refusing the grants of money which were offered to 
 her by the legislature without solicitation. By this ma- 
 nagement she so completely acquired the confidence of 
 her subjects, that the commons, though in these days 
 extremely tenacious of their money, voted her, without 
 reluctance, and without annexing any conditions, much 
 larger sums than had been granted to her predecessors. 
 They knew that their treasures were never misapplied ; 
 that nothing was expended which could possibly be saved ; 
 and the unavoidable exigencies of the state were always 
 acknowledged by the nation before the government had 
 recourse to parliament for supplies. When we consider 
 the temper and conduct of Elizabeth, we cannot but at- 
 tribute the tranquillity of her reign, in a great measure, 
 to this rigid frugality. Scarcely less haughty and im- 
 patient of contradiction than her father, her pretensions 
 to absolute authority were at times even more lofty, and 
 her usual language to her parliaments still less gracious. 
 As the commons, however compliant in other respects, 
 were ever ready to encounter danger, rather than sur- 
 render the public money without evident utility, or a 
 valuable consideration, it can scarcely be doubted, that, 
 if she had been led into embarrassments by prodigality, 
 their resolute demands for concessions on the one hand, 
 and her obstinate refusal to abridge her power on the 
 other, would have terminated in civil convulsions. 
 
 In the intercourse of England with foreign nations, 
 this economy in the management of public money was 
 replete with equal advantage. The allies, whom it was
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 281 
 
 most essential for Elizabeth to support, were often re- 
 duced to such straits for money, that the dispersion of 
 their forces, and the utter ruin of their hopes, seemed 
 inevitable. In these critical emergencies, she found 
 means, either from her exchequer or her credit, to afford 
 them a supply ; and its season ableness gave it an effi- 
 cacy beyond its magnitude. But though she relieved 
 them opportunely, she wasted none of her resources 
 without the most evident necessity. Her policy was 
 never to afford them any supplies of men and money, 
 until she found that they could not otherwise defend 
 themselves ; to send them at length succours just suffi- 
 cient to retrieve their circumstances ; and to withdraw 
 her forces as soon as the most imminent danger was re- 
 pelled. She was liberal only when her allies were much 
 depressed, and it was necessary to revive their drooping 
 spirits; at other times, she required that the money 
 which she advanced should be repaid, and even that the 
 expenses of her armaments should be reimbursed. Most 
 of her pecuniary assistance to Henry IV. of France was 
 given in the form of loans ; and the Dutch were obliged 
 to put into her hands several fortified towns as security 
 for the repayment of her advances. She thus enabled 
 her allies to retrieve their affairs, and provided that the 
 expenditure, of which they were to reap the chief bene- 
 fit, should not become a burden to her subjects. 
 
 The frugality of Elizabeth did not escape censure; 
 and Cecil, by whose counsels it was known to be enforced, 
 was often reproached with sacrificing the best allies of 
 England to his little-minded and parsimonious policy. 
 But events fully justified his sagacity. While our allies 
 were raised to the most vigorous exertion, and finally 
 triumphed over their enemies, England herself, the main 
 spring of these efforts, advanced in a progressive course 
 of prosperity. 
 
 But it was the very sparing hand with which he dis- 
 tributed the public money at home that excited against 
 him the loudest clamours. In those days it was cus- 
 tomary for men of rank to waste their property in at-
 
 282 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 tendance at court, and in an idle emulation of splendour, 
 while they looked to the bounty of the sovereign for re- 
 pairing their ruined fortunes. To the importunities of 
 this train, who perpetually beset the court, and yet could 
 urge no other claim than their own profusion, Cecil was 
 inexorable. They complained that he not only refused 
 to exert his interest in their behalf, but even hardened 
 the queen against their solicitations.* Elizabeth, indeed, 
 had no inclination to be prodigal of her treasures, unless 
 when her individual predilections occasionally overcame 
 her general parsimony. Her partial regard to the earl 
 of Essex seems particularly to have moved her liberality; 
 for we find, that, on his departure for the government 
 of Ireland, she made him a present of 30,000/.f; and 
 Cecil, who watched these instances of profusion with a 
 jealous eye, computed that, from first to last, her pecu- 
 niary gifts to the earl amounted to 300,000/.J; a 
 lavish bounty, while the annual ordinary revenues of the 
 state did not exceed 500,000/. 
 
 Elizabeth, anxious to avoid dependence on her par- 
 liament, was too often persuaded to reward her courtiers 
 with grants prejudicial to the national prosperity. Some- 
 times she yielded them exemptions from the penalties of 
 the laws ; sometimes she indulged them in the suppres- 
 sion of prosecutions ; and still more frequently, she en- 
 riched them by monopolies of articles in general use. 
 Against these abuses, which he justly termed the cankers 
 of the commonwealth , Cecil continually remonstrated, 
 but too often in vain. Towards the latter end of the 
 reign, however, the evil became so enormous as to 
 compel a remedy ; for the commons, perceiving the 
 .commerce of the nation hastening to ruin under the 
 pressure of monopolies, became so vehement in their 
 complaints, that Elizabeth felt the necessity of abolishing 
 the most obnoxious. 
 
 * " Madam," he was accustomed to say, " you do well to let suitors stay, 
 for I shall tell you bis dat qui cito dot ; if you grant them speedily, they win 
 come again the sooner." Bacon's Works, vol. iii. p. 264. 
 
 J Birch's Memoirs, vol. ii. t Nanton's Regalia, chap. L 
 
 Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 52.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 283 
 
 But while Cecil was the avowed enemy of all grants 
 to idle suitors, he anxiously desired that those who per- 
 formed real services should enjoy a liberal provision. It 
 was by his salutary regulations that the common soldiers 
 were first clothed at the expense of government, and re- 
 ceived their weekly allowance directly into their own 
 hands.* According to the previous practice, the whole 
 pay of the corps was consigned into the hands of the 
 superior officers, who were so little restricted, either as 
 to the time or the amount of their distributions, that the 
 unfortunate soldiers were sometimes absolutely left to 
 starve. The reformation of these abuses occasioned 
 many murmurs among those whom it deprived of their 
 unjust gains ; but it infused new loyalty and vigour into 
 the English army, at a period when foreign invasion, 
 assisted by many internal enemies, threatened to involve 
 the country in ruin. From a general adherence to this 
 system, of being liberal to the servants of the public, and 
 very parsimonious to the dependents of the court, it be- 
 came a common saying, that " the queen paid liberally, 
 though she rewarded sparingly." 9 
 
 Cecil was raised to the office of lord high treasurer in 
 the eleventh year of his administration. In this high 
 station, while he punished with severity all oppression in 
 the collection of the revenue, he gave strict orders that 
 no one should be allowed to escape from his just pro- 
 portion of the public taxes. All undue lenity of this 
 sort to one individual, he considered a direct injustice to 
 another ; since the deficiency must have been made up 
 by new exactions on the more honourable contributors. 
 From this strict impartiality, and from his improved 
 arrangements, the receipts of the treasury, from the 
 same sources, experienced a great amelioration. The 
 abuse, which then prevailed, of ministers retaining in 
 their hands, and receiving interest on, considerable sums 
 of the public money, he endeavoured to check by never 
 issuing the smallest payment without an express warrant 
 from the queen. Of the purity which he required in 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 47.
 
 284 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 others, he himself set an example; for he never imitated 
 the usual practice of other treasurers, in occasionally 
 borrowing from the exchequer for private purposes ; and 
 he was almost the only one of Elizabeth's ministers who, 
 at his death, owed nothing to the public. This strict 
 attention to the interests of the exchequer is the more 
 commendable, as it proceeded from a desire to diminish 
 the burdens of the people. So averse was he to all new 
 impositions on the subjects, that he would never allow 
 the tenants of the crown lands to be harassed by a rise 
 of rents, or turned out to make room for higher bidders; 
 and it was his excellent saying, " that he never cared to 
 see the treasury swell like a disordered spleen, when the 
 other parts of the constitution were in a consump- 
 tion." * 
 
 From the same considerations with his love of economy 
 arose his steady attachment to pacific measures. In- 
 structed both by history and by observation, that war 
 was the great means of wasting the resources of nations, 
 he firmly resisted the efforts of those rash and ambitious 
 spirits, who perpetually endeavoured to plunge the na- 
 tion into hostilities, with the view of advancing their 
 own reputation and fortunes. He had ever on his lips 
 the salutary maxims, " that war is soon kindled, but 
 peace very hardly procured ; that war is the curse, and 
 peace the blessing of God upon a nation ; and that a 
 realm gains more by one year's peace than by ten years' 
 war."-]- By these pacific counsels, the queen, from the 
 soundness of her understanding, and her aversion to ex- 
 pense, was usually swayed. On a few occasions, a long- 
 ing for military glory, or a leaning to some favourite 
 counsellors, who were men of more ambition than dis- 
 cretion, caused her to disregard the dissuasions of Cecil ; 
 but more serious reflection seldom failed to dispel her 
 illusion. 
 
 The wisdom of Cecil, in adhering resolutely to a pa- 
 cific system, deserves the more applause, as the con- 
 
 * Camden, Annal. Eliz. Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 53. 
 f Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 70.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 285 
 
 dition of Europe at that period was calculated to tempt 
 an English minister into extensive wars. While Scotland 
 and France were torn by intestine convulsions, and the 
 rebels often enabled to overpower the sovereign, the Low 
 Countries, which had revolted against Philip, seemed 
 determined to endure the last extremities rather than 
 again submit to his dominion. England alone enjoyed 
 internal tranquillity ; and, by uniting with the insur- 
 gents of either country, might have acquired both a large 
 addition of territory, and such other concessions as may 
 be wrested from a weaker power. But Cecil well knew 
 that conquests were not the true road to national aggran- 
 disement ; and that his country would suffer more in 
 her resources and real strength, from an extensive and 
 protracted war, than she could gain from its most suc- 
 cessful results. 
 
 Yet, though the strenuous advocate of a pacific policy, 
 his forbearance did not arise from timidity, nor his par- 
 simony from a contracted mind. Against the dangers 
 which threatened the kingdom, he prepared with firm- 
 ness and activity ; and when the public interests re- 
 quired it, he could advise a large expenditure and exten- 
 sive armaments. When the prospect of the Spanish 
 invasion filled the nation with just alarm, he drew up 
 plans of defence ; and, by his serene and collected 
 demeanour, seconded his courageous mistress in diffusing 
 general confidence and intrepidity.* His conduct with 
 respect to the allies and enemies of his country forms 
 so important a part of his transactions, and exhibits a 
 system of foreign policy so much more extensive and 
 refined than had hitherto been acted upon in England, 
 as to demand a more particular examination. 
 
 From the early part of the sixteenth century, the 
 political transactions of Europe had gradually been 
 assuming a more systematic form ; and a sort of balance 
 of power was at length established among the principal 
 nations. Henry VIII. boasted of holding this balance; 
 but he held it with so unsteady a hand, and his measures 
 
 * Camden, Annal. Eliz. p. 582.
 
 286 BRITISH STATESMEN 
 
 were so much the result of momentary passion, that his 
 influence in foreign transactions was far from adequate 
 to his comparative power. During the reign of Ed- 
 ward VI. England was prevented, by her internal fac- 
 tions, from giving much, attention to external affairs ; 
 and, by the marriage of Mary with Philip, was sunk for 
 a time into little else than a province of the overgrown 
 Spanish monarchy. But under Elizabeth, various cir- 
 cumstances occurred to alter the aspect of affairs ; and 
 England, from the wisdom with which her government 
 availed itself of her advantages, obtained an extraordi- 
 nary ascendancy in the public transactions of Europe. 
 
 Of these circumstances the most important arose from, 
 the general change which, at this period, was taking 
 place in religious sentiments. The commencement of 
 the reformation has been noticed in the life of sir 
 Thomas More, and since that time the new principles 
 had spread through almost every country of Europe. 
 The Roman hierarchy attempted to extinguish them by 
 the aid of secular authority ; but the reformers, after 
 suffering incredible oppressions, began to defend their 
 freedom of opinion by force of arms. Elizabeth, the 
 greatest sovereign of Europe who had embraced the new 
 faith, was, from her situation, placed at the head of the 
 protestant cause. Exposed thus to the inveterate re- 
 sentment of the catholics, her protection was relied on by 
 the reformed with the more confidence, as they knew the 
 adherents of the pope to be no less her enemies than 
 their own. The foreign policy of Cecil was adapted to 
 this state of things. He knew that the English catho- 
 lics, who still formed a powerful body in the nation, 
 were secretly encouraged and urged to dangerous insur- 
 rections by the foreign princes of their persuasion. He 
 also knew that these princes were eager to seize an 
 opportunity of uniting their forces to wrest the sceptre 
 from Elizabeth ; and that they had already begun to 
 form extensive leagues for that purpose. The most 
 effectual means to avert these dangers was, he concluded, 
 to support the protestants in their opposition to their
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 287 
 
 catholic sovereigns, who would thus be sufficiently occu- 
 pied at home, and have neither the leisure nor the power 
 to turn their arms against England. 
 
 We are first to consider the application of this plan 
 of policy to the Spanish empire. Philip, at that time 
 the most wealthy and powerful monarch of Europe, was 
 actuated both by inordinate ambition and by a gloomy 
 and unrelenting bigotry. By standing forth as the 
 champion of Rome, and labouring to exterminate the 
 protestants by fire and sword, he expected to acquire 
 such a body of adherents in every country of Europe, as 
 might pave his way to universal dominion. To a prince 
 with such views, Elizabeth, who stood at the head of 
 the protestant interest, was necessarily the most marked 
 object of enmity : yet there were circumstances which 
 induced him, in the first period of her reign, to postpone 
 his hostile schemes, and even to appear as her supporter. 
 At first, he entertained hopes, by gaining her hand, to 
 effect the darling plan, which his union with her sister 
 had failed to realise, of attaching England to the Spa- 
 nish monarchy. Even after this hope was gone, the 
 marriage of Mary queen of Scots with Francis II., 
 which threatened, if Elizabeth should be overwhelmed 
 by her enemies, to reduce England as well as Scot- 
 land under the dominion of France, rendered him 
 desirous to support her against their attempts. But 
 when freed from these apprehensions by the death of 
 Francis, he began to put in practice the enterprises sug- 
 gested by his schemes of aggrandisement. He still wore 
 the mask of friendship, but he was from that time for- 
 ward wholly occupied with the extirpation of heresy, 
 and with projects to deprive its great protectress of her 
 throne and her life. 
 
 Cecil was, from the first, aware of the real disposition 
 and views of Philip. He perceived that if, by any con- 
 tingency, the circumstances which rendered a show of 
 friendship towards Elizabeth subservient to that prince's 
 interest should be removed, she would have every thing 
 to dread from his ambition and bigotry. Yet even after
 
 288 BRITISH STATKSMEN. 
 
 the course of events had rendered this dissimulation un- 
 necessary, and the king of Spain had begun to throw off 
 the mask, the prudent minister of England still advised 
 his mistress to temporise, and, as long as possible, to 
 avoid open hostilities ; when her power should be more 
 firmly established, her finances improved, and her forces 
 augmented, then, he showed her, would be the proper 
 period to undertake the contest: in the mean time, it was 
 her policy to dissemble her resentment at the faithless- 
 ness of Philip, to meet his advances as if she believed 
 them sincere, and to send an embassy into Spain to 
 settle, by negotiation, any occasional quarrels that might 
 arise.* 
 
 These cautious suggestions of Cecil, which the queen 
 had the wisdom to follow, were loudly declaimed against 
 by his political rivals, as resulting from a weak and 
 timid disposition, calculated to compromise the glory of 
 his country, and to degrade its government in the eyes 
 of foreigners. The aids in men, money, and ammuni- 
 tion, which, at the same period, he counselled to be sent 
 to the French protestants, excited reproaches no less 
 importunate, but of an opposite nature ; for he, who had 
 just been branded as weak and timid, was now accused 
 of rashness and a disregard to the public safety. Such 
 is the justice of faction ! 
 
 In pursuance of his ambitious projects, Philip had 
 resolved to deprive his subjects in the Low Countries of 
 their ancient privileges, to bring them completely under 
 the yoke of despotism, and at the same time to extirpate 
 that heresy which, in conjunction with the principles of 
 civil liberty, had already begun to flourish among them. 
 For this purpose he sent thither a body of veteran Spa- 
 niards, commanded by the duke of Alva; an experienced 
 officer, but a gloomy bigot, in whose bosom long habits 
 of tyranny seemed to have extinguished every feeling of 
 humanity. His arrival in the Netherlands was marked 
 by the most wanton barbarities. Confiscation, imprison- 
 ment, and exile, were accounted mild punishments ; few, 
 * Camden, p. 70.
 
 LORD BUBLEIGH. 289 
 
 who had once the misfortune to become objects of sus- 
 picion, escaped torture or death ; and the victims, whom 
 malice pointed out to the jealous instruments of the 
 tyrant, were often, without any form of accusation or 
 trial, committed to the flames. Such was the barbarity 
 of this man, that, besides the slaughters perpetrated by 
 his soldiers, he boasted, with a savage joy, on leaving 
 the Netherlands, that, during his government there, he 
 had delivered eighteen thousand of these obstinate 
 heretics into the hands of the executioner. * 
 
 The unfortunate Flemings quitted their native country 
 in crowds, fled to England, the only state in Europe 
 where they could depend on effectual protection ; and 
 Elizabeth, cordially receiving them, was enabled, with 
 their assistance, to enrich her dominions by several valu- 
 able manufactures which had hitherto been chiefly con- 
 fined to the Netherlands. Nor was it long till an 
 opportunity occurred of rendering an indirect assistance 
 to their miserable country. Philip, having contracted 
 with some Genoese merchants to transport into Flanders 
 a sum of four hundred thousand crowns for the use of 
 his troops, who were almost in a state of mutiny for the 
 want of pay, the vessels on board of which this trea- 
 sure was conveyed, happening to be attacked in the 
 channel by some privateers belonging to the French 
 Hugonots, took refuge in the ports of Plymouth and 
 Southampton. Here it was given out, both by the cap- 
 tains of the vessels and the Spanish ambassador, that 
 their cargoes were the property of the king of Spain ; 
 but Cecil, who had always the best means of procuring 
 intelligence, found out that the money, in fact, did not 
 belong to Philip, that the Genoese merchants had not 
 yet fulfilled their contract, and were, in consequence, 
 the proprietors of the treasure. On this discovery, he 
 entreated the queen not to neglect so favourable an op- 
 portunity of striking a decisive blow against the Spanish 
 power in Flanders. By taking the money as a loan, 
 and by giving security for its repayment, he argued that 
 
 * Grotius, lib. ii. 
 TOL. I. U
 
 290 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 ^he might satisfy the Genoese, while the measure would 
 effectually wound the interests of Spain, without any 
 direct hostility. With this advice Elizabeth complied, 
 and the event demonstrated its sagacity. While the 
 duke of Alva, thrown into the greatest embarrassment 
 by the loss of his expected supplies, was obliged, to 
 prevent an immediate mutiny among his troops, to make 
 the most severe exactions from the inhabitants ; the 
 tyrannical manner in which they were levied, stretched 
 the patience of the people to the utmost, and prepared 
 their minds for the most desperate resistance.* 
 
 This transaction, which produced irreparable evils to 
 the Spanish power in the Low Countries, gave rise to 
 some temporary hostilities between Spain and England. 
 The duke of Alva seized the persons and goods of the 
 English merchants in the Netherlands, and Elizabeth 
 retaliated on the merchants of Flanders and Spain. But 
 as Philip had not yet matured his schemes for taking 
 effectual vengeance on England, and as his antagonist 
 did not consider the time arrived for a final rupture 
 with him, these differences were settled by negotiation, 
 and the merchants on both sides indemnified. Eliza- 
 beth even yielded so far to the remonstrances of Philip, 
 as to refuse the Flemish refugees admittance for the 
 future into her dominions ; but this act of complaisance 
 was followed by very unexpected consequences. These 
 sufferers, finding no place of refuge from their enemies, 
 returned, in despair, to their own coasts, seized the sea- 
 port of the Brille ; and, being soon joined by crowds of 
 their persecuted countrymen, reared the standard of re- 
 volt throughout Holland and Zealand. A solemn league 
 between these two provinces, never again to submit to 
 the tyranny of Spain, now laid the corner-stone of Dutch 
 independence. The stand which the talents of their 
 general, the prince of Orange, united with their own 
 desperate valour, enabled them to make against this 
 mighty monarchy, far exceeded the general expectation. 
 
 * Camden, Anna). Eliz. Nanton's Fragmenta Regalia. Bentivoglio, 
 part i. lib. v.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 291 
 
 It was not till after a long siege and great loss that the 
 duke of Alva succeeded in taking Haarlem ; and he was 
 finally compelled to abandon his attempts on Alkmaer. 
 The duke was recalled; but the veteran forces of Spain, 
 supported by her great resources, still pressed severely 
 on the Hollanders, who seemed about to sink under the 
 unequal contest. In this emergency their eyes were 
 turned to their only remaining hope, an embassy which 
 they had sent to Elizabeth,, imploring her protection, 
 and offering her in return the immediate possession and 
 sovereignty of their country. 
 
 A valuable accession of maritime territory, as well as 
 an opportunity of immediately enfeebling her capital 
 enemy, presented very powerful temptations. But many 
 weighty objections naturally occurred to her sagacious 
 counsellors. It was apparent that, to accept the proffered 
 sovereignty, would involve her in immediate hostilities 
 with Philip ; that he would be enabled to throw on her 
 the reproach of aggression and injustice ; that, as these 
 provinces had applied to her merely from the insuffi- 
 ciency of their own resources, it was probable that she 
 would have to sustain the great burden of the contest ; 
 that, from the exhausted state in which, even if ulti- 
 mately successful, they would naturally be left by the 
 war, their revenues could not speedily repair the waste 
 of her resources which their defence must occasion ; but 
 that, as against the immense power of Philip their suc- 
 cess was very doubtful, a present and certain loss would 
 be incurred for distant and precarious advantages. Nor 
 were the more remote evils less to be apprehended, since 
 the possession of a continental territory would neces- 
 sarily involve England in many disputes and wars, from 
 which her insular situation seemed designed to exempt 
 her. 'The influence of these considerations on the mind 
 of Elizabeth was greatly increased by her unwillingness 
 to abet subjects in resistance to their monarch. Her 
 ideas of sovereign power were, indeed, scarcely less 
 lofty than those of Philip ; and the depression of a dan- 
 gerous enemy seemed too dearly purchased by an ex- 
 u 2
 
 292 BRITISH STATESMEN". 
 
 ample of successful rebellion. She refused the proffered 
 sovereignty, but she endeavoured to soften the disap- 
 pointment to the provinces by promising to mediate 
 between them and Philip. 
 
 Her attempts at conciliation were, as might have been 
 foreseen, ineffectual ; but the circumstances of the Hol- 
 landers soon afterwards experienced an alteration which 
 justified a corresponding change in the policy of Eng- 
 land. The other provinces of the Netherlands, abused 
 beyond endurance by the horrible excesses of the Spanish 
 troops, had, with the single exception of Luxembourg, 
 risen in arms, and formed a common league to resist 
 foreign tyranny. The strength of the confederacy was- 
 now sufficient to give it a fair prospect of success, and 
 the English government resolved to assist the provinces 
 without delay. A sum of money was sent over for the 
 immediate payment of their troops ; and a treaty of mu- 
 tual defence afterwards concluded with them, on the 
 prudential and frugal system which Cecil continually 
 enforced. The queen stipulated to assist the Hollanders 
 with five thousand foot and a thousand horse, but this 
 reinforcement was to be at their charge ; to lend them a 
 hundred thousand pounds, but to receive, in return, the 
 bond of several towns in the Low Countries for its repay- 
 ment within the year. It was also agreed that, in the 
 event of her being attacked, the provinces should assist 
 her with a force equal to that which she now sent for 
 their protection ; that all quarrels among themselves 
 should be referred to her arbitration ; that her general 
 should sit as a member in the council of the states, and 
 should be made acquainted with all deliberations con- 
 cerning peace and war.* By this treaty the queen raised 
 the courage of the United Provinces at a critical juncture, 
 effectually weakened her capital enemy, and avoided any 
 considerable waste of her own resources. 
 
 But the independence of this noble republic was not 
 to be accomplished without a new succession of difficul- 
 ties and dangers. By the uncommon talents of the 
 
 Camden, AnnaL Eliz. p. 507.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 2Q3 
 
 prince of Parma, who now commanded against the 
 states, and the assassination of their illustrious leader, the 
 prince of Orange, they were again reduced to the most 
 desperate condition. Again they sent a solemn embassy 
 to implore the assistance of Elizabeth, and again proffered 
 their sovereignty as the price of protection. The reasons 
 which formerly induced her to decline this offer still led 
 her to the same determination ; but, as the enmity of 
 Philip was daily becoming more apparent, and the suc- 
 cess of the states more essential to her security, it was 
 her evident policy to render them more effectual assist- 
 ance. In a new treaty, she agreed to aid them with an 
 army of five thousand foot and one thousand horse, to 
 be paid by herself during the war ; but, not forgetting 
 the maxims of prudence amidst her liberality, she stipu- 
 lated that the whole of her expenses should be repaid 
 after the conclusion of hostilities ; that the castle of 
 Rammekens, with Flushing and the Brille 4 should, in 
 the mean time, be placed in her hands as security ; that 
 her general, and two others of her appointment, should 
 be admitted into the council of the states ; and that 
 neither of the contracting parties should make a separate 
 peace. The reinforcements stipulated by this treaty were 
 speedily sent over, under the command of the earl of 
 Leicester.* The appointment of this incapable and arro- 
 gant officer is said to have been the only step, in the 
 transactions relative to the Low Countries, that was taken 
 in opposition to the counsels of Cecil, t It was also the 
 only circumstance that led to unprosperous events, and 
 impaired the efficacy of the English succours. 
 
 Although the United Provinces, in their struggle for 
 freedom, encountered many disasters, still their perse- 
 vering courage, aided by some favourable incidents, gra- 
 dually began to gain on their enemies. From a habit of 
 successful resistance, they learned to look on the power 
 of Spain, and the chances of war, with less apprehen- 
 sion : the active spirit excited among them began to 
 display itself in commercial enterprises, which quickly 
 * Camden, Annal. Eliz. p. 508. f Leicester's Commonwealth, p. 195. 
 
 u 3
 
 294- BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 augmented their resources. A powerful diversion was 
 also produced in their favour by Henry the Fourth of 
 France, who, after having subdued his internal enemies, 
 now began to retaliate the many hostile acts of Philip in 
 the days of his adversity. Perceiving this favourable 
 change in the circumstances of the states, which ren- 
 dered them in less immediate want of assistance from 
 England, Cecil, always averse to waste the blood and 
 treasure of the nation in superfluous efforts, began to re- 
 mind the queen that it was now time to diminish her 
 disbursements in behalf of her allies. To this sugges- 
 tion she readily hearkened ; and, that the limitation of 
 her intended retrenchments might appear a favour, she 
 desired her ambassador to demand the immediate repay- 
 ment of all her loans and expenses. Against this unex- 
 pected requisition, with which they were wholly unable 
 to comply, the states, in much consternation, remon- 
 strated ; and, after many supplications, prevailed on the 
 queen to be satisfied with more moderate conditions. 
 By a new treaty, they engaged to relieve her imme- 
 diately from the expense of their English auxiliaries ; to 
 pay her annually a small part of their debt ; to assist 
 her, in case it should be requisite, with a stipulated 
 number of ships ; to conclude peace only with her con- 
 currence ; and, in lieu of all her demands against them, 
 to pay her, after the conclusion of peace with Spain, an 
 annual sum of one hundred thousand pounds for four 
 years. Until all these conditions should be fulfilled, the 
 cautionary towns were to remain in her hands. On her 
 part, it was merely stipulated that she should assist them, 
 during the war, with a body of four thousand English aux- 
 iliaries, which, however, were to be paid by the states.* 
 
 Before the termination of his political career, Cecil 
 had the satisfaction to conclude another treaty, in which 
 still more favourable conditions were procured for Eng- 
 land. The states agreed to fix the amount of their debt at 
 eight hundred thousand pounds ; to pay one half of this 
 sum during the war, at the rate of thirty thousand pounds 
 
 * Camden, Anna! Eliz. p. 586.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 295 
 
 a year ; to assist Elizabeth with a fleet equal to her own, 
 if a convenient opportunity should occur of attacking 
 Spain by sea; and to send a force of five thousand foot and 
 five hundred horse to her defence, if either England, or 
 Jersey, or Scilly, or the Isle of Wight, should be in- 
 vaded by the Spaniards. They farther agreed that, so 
 long as England should continue the war with Spain, 
 they should pay the garrisons of the cautionary towns, 
 a stipulation by which this country was at once freed 
 from an annual charge of an hundred and twenty thou- 
 sand pounds.* 
 
 The first avowed assistance which England rendered 
 to the United Provinces was the signal for open hostilities 
 with Spain ; and Philip, to gratify at once his revenge 
 and ambition, attempted, by means of his famous 
 armada, to achieve the entire conquest of England. But 
 as the failure of this immense armament, and various 
 successful attacks on the fleets and harbours of Spain, 
 gave the English a superiority at sea, Philip, finding his 
 losses increase as his hopes diminished, showed a dispo- 
 sition to make peace on reasonable terms. This favour- 
 able opportunity of entering into negotiation Cecil now 
 strongly urged the queen to seize ; for although the war 
 continued to be very successful and very honourable, yet 
 he felt the wounds which it inflicted, under every appear- 
 ance of advantage. By their captures from the Spa- 
 niards, a few individuals were enriched, and Elizabeth 
 generally took care to have her full share in these suc- 
 cessful adventures ; still the royal treasury was exhausted 
 by the expenses of the war, and the reluctant queen 
 frequently forced to replenish it by applying to parlia- 
 ment. 
 
 The war, however, was continued, because it offered 
 temptations which neither the queen nor the people 
 were able to resist. The scarcity of the precious metals 
 rendered their value in these days extravagant ; and the 
 rich freights transported from the New World to Spain 
 presented the most powerful excitement to avarice. 
 
 * Bymer's Foedera, vol. xvi. p. 340. 
 TJ 4
 
 296* BRITISH STATESMEN-. 
 
 Stimulated by these, sir Francis Drake had, even before 
 the commencement of open hostilities with Spain, begun 
 his depredations on her commerce ; and by the treasures 
 which he brought home, as well as the accounts which 
 he circulated, inflamed the avidity of his countrymen. 
 Against these piratical acts the Spaniards vehemently 
 remonstrated ; but Elizabeth accepted of an entertain- 
 ment and a handsome present from Drake, and gave the 
 Spanish ambassador very little satisfaction. Encouraged 
 by the countenance of their sovereign, and at length 
 authorised by an open declaration of war, English pri- 
 vateers swarmed around the Spanish coast, both in 
 Europe and America. These enterprises became the 
 usual adventure of the times, by which the rich expected 
 to increase their wealth, and the prodigal to repair their 
 fortunes. In the event of a rich prize, Elizabeth was 
 not forgotten ; nor did she ever refuse to gratify the 
 captors by graciously accepting their presents. These 
 exploits were usually undertaken in partnership, and a 
 vessel or two were sometimes furnished by her majesty ; 
 a speculation which seldom failed to turn to the benefit 
 of the treasury, as the queen's portion of the booty, by 
 means of duties, presents, and various other allowances, 
 generally proved much greater than her share in the 
 equipment. An adventure of sir Walter Raleigh having 
 proved very successful, that experienced courtier humbly 
 entreated the queen, who had borne a tenth part in the 
 expense, to accept one half of the booty, in lieu of all 
 demands. In these enterprises many, indeed, lost both 
 their fortunes and their lives ; but the successful adven- 
 turers alone attracted the public notice, and this lottery 
 continued to prove irresistibly tempting. 
 
 It is probable that Cecil, who attended so much to 
 the progress of national industry and wealth, perceived 
 many bad consequences from this mode of warfare. 
 The attention of the nation was withdrawn from manu- 
 factures and commerce ; the capital and enterprise, 
 which would otherwise have remained to the useful 
 arts, were wasted on schemes of hazard. The people,
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 297 
 
 neglecting those employments from which alone solid 
 and general opulence can be derived, were in danger of 
 acquiring the habits and calculations of pirates. But 
 there were other and more generous passions which 
 rendered the court and the people unwilling to hearken 
 to the representations of Cecil. Although Spain was 
 at that time the most powerful nation in Europe, the 
 English, with vessels far inferior, had harassed her 
 mightiest fleet, captured her richest convoys, and even 
 burnt her ships in her principal harbours. These suc- 
 cesses, obtained by courage and skill over a haughty 
 enemy, greatly elevated the spirits of our countrymen ; 
 and the glory of the English arms became a triumphant 
 theme in every mouth. To pursue this gallant course, 
 to follow up these blows by new achievements, to lay 
 the pride of Spain prostrate at their feet, were the 
 expressions which resounded throughout the nation. 
 
 Into these sentiments Elizabeth cordially entered ; 
 for, with all the soundness of her understanding, love 
 of fame was a predominant passion in her breast, and 
 nothing could exceed her desire of being admired, 
 whether for the imagined charms of her person, or the 
 heroic exploits of her subjects. In the present question, 
 the influence of vanity was confirmed by a more tender 
 sentiment. The young earl of Essex had now succeeded 
 to that place in her affections which had formerly been 
 held by the earl of Leicester. No quality which could 
 captivate seemed to be wanting in this young nobleman. 
 A person uncommonly handsome derived new graces 
 from manners easy, frank, and popular ; and such was 
 the ascendancy of these external advantages, united to a 
 nature liberal and ardent, that he had the rare fortune 
 of being no less the idol of the people than the favourite 
 of the sovereign. Yet these shining qualities were ac- 
 companied by defects which rendered him particularly 
 unfit for the management of public affairs. Impatient, 
 passionate, and wilful, he was so jealous of his honour, 
 as to be inflamed by even an imaginary insult ; so 
 greedy of fame, that every successful rival appeared an
 
 298 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 enemy; so fond of military glory, that no considerations 
 of policy could restrain him from precipitating his coun- 
 try into a war where he might earn distinction ; and yet 
 so unfit, from imprudence and heat, for conducting mi- 
 litary operations, that no enterprise could safely be 
 trusted to his hands. He had acquired some reputation 
 in the Spanish war, and eagerly panted for more ; he 
 stood forward, therefore, as the vehement opposer of 
 Cecil's propositions for peace ; and his influence over 
 the queen's affections, joined to the other considerations 
 which we have mentioned, was sufficient to counteract 
 the intentions of the minister. 
 
 Cecil was no less interested for the glory of his coun- 
 try than Essex ; but while he felt how much security 
 depends on political reputation, he perceived the folly of 
 attempting to render a nation glorious by wasting her 
 resources, or great by reducing her to imbecility. He 
 knew that, with the substance, the shadow must dis- 
 appear ; that if the resources of an empire are ex- 
 hausted, the reputation founded on them must soon 
 vanish. Averse to the waste of public property, and de- 
 testing the wanton effusion of human blood, he could 
 not, without indignation, see both sovereign and people 
 led away by the same passions as Essex, and surren- 
 dering the reins of their understandings to the delusions 
 of a heated brain. On one occasion, when the question 
 of peace and war was debated in council, Essex pro- 
 ceeded, as usual, to declaim in favour of continuing hos- 
 tilities; urging that the Spaniards, being a subtle people, 
 ambitious of extending their dominion, implacable ene- 
 mies to England, bigoted adherents of the pope, and 
 professing that no faith was to be observed with heretics, 
 were incapable of maintaining the relations of peace. 
 Cecil, who felt that, if such arguments prevailed, the 
 sword would never be sheathed, could not help in- 
 dignantly exclaiming, in the midst of this harangue, 
 " that the speaker seemed intent on nothing but 
 blood and slaughter." At the close of the debate,
 
 LORD I5URLEIGH. 299 
 
 perceiving that his reasoning was of no avail against 
 the impulses of passion, he pulled out a common 
 prayer-book from his pocket, and pointed in silence to 
 the words, " Men of blood shall not live half their 
 days." * He felt that time and experience could alone 
 dispel the delusion ; still he endeavoured to accelerate 
 that desirable event, by the publication of a tract, con- 
 taining his arguments for peace ; these, though disre- 
 garded by the multitude, were too distinct and forcible 
 not to impress the reflecting and moderate, t 
 
 In the policy pursued by England towards France, 
 as the passions of men were less interested, the councils 
 of Cecil were followed, with little deviation. During 
 the short and feeble reign of Francis II. the duke of 
 Guise, with his four brothers, uncles to Mary queen of 
 Scots, had obtained a complete ascendancy in the French 
 government. Powerful from the influence of their house, 
 and dignified by their alliance with the royal family, 
 their talents, joined to a restless, daring ambition, over- 
 powered their antagonists, and reduced their monarch to 
 a mere instrument in their hands. The recapture of 
 Calais from England, which the duke had unexpectedly 
 effected, procured him unrivalled popularity ; while his 
 standing forth as the. leader of the catholics against the 
 Hugonots, gave him unlimited sway over the most nu- 
 merous portion of the people. As the champion of his 
 faith, he prepared to enforce its adoption with fire and 
 sword, and \to exterminate protestantism throughout 
 France. The leaders of the Hugonots flew to arms; 
 but, from their inadequate resources, they were quickly 
 reduced to extremities, and, in despair, applied to Eliza- 
 beth for succour. Her compliance was enforced by the 
 most evident interest, as the ambitious Guise aspired to 
 place his niece Mary on the throne of England as well 
 as of Scotland. A supply of men and money was ac- 
 cordingly sent without delay. 
 
 Throughout all the measures of Elizabeth towards 
 the French Hugonots we perceive the cautious and 
 * Camden, p. 608. f H>iA
 
 300 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 frugal policy of Cecil. He was of opinion that the 
 French protestants should, from time to time, be fur- 
 nished with such supplies as might enable them to make 
 head against their enemies ; but that it would be folly 
 to embroil his country farther than this object required. 
 France and England had long regarded each other as 
 dangerous rivals ; and he understood human nature too 
 well, to suppose that a change of religion in the govern- 
 ment would alter these sentiments. A French sovereign, 
 whether popish or protestant, would, he knew, be almost 
 equally dangerous to England ; and he deemed it ex- 
 treme folly in this country to waste her resources in pro- 
 curing a decided ascendancy to either the insurgent or 
 the royalist faction. 
 
 Such were the maxims which guided the conduct of 
 Elizabeth during the French civil wars. When the 
 Hugonots were almost driven to despair, in the minority 
 of Charles IX., she furnished them with some money 
 and troops ; but a part of the money was advanced by 
 way of loan ; and, in return, she obliged her allies to 
 put Havre de Grace into her hands, as a pledge that 
 Calais should be restored to the English crown. When 
 the young duke of Guise, at a subsequent period, had 
 begun to emulate the enterprises of his father, and had 
 reduced the protestants to extreme distress, she again 
 revived their spirits by timely assistance ; but it con- 
 sisted merely in exciting the protestant German princes 
 to their support ; in lending them a sum of money, for 
 which the jewels of the queen of Navarre were depo- 
 sited with her in pledge ; and in permitting a hundred 
 gentlemen volunteers to pass over into France, where 
 they fought at their own charge.* 
 
 The massacre of St. Bartholomew, in which the court 
 of France butchered such multitudes of their unsuspect- 
 ing protestant subjects, naturally excited the horror of 
 all the protestant states of Europe. The English, fired 
 with indignation, eagerly expected to see their govern- 
 ment stand forward to avenge the rights of religion and 
 
 * Camden, p. 423.
 
 LORD BUBLEIGH. 301 
 
 humanity ; and so earnest were the nobility and gentry 
 in the cause, that they offered to levy an array of 
 20,000 foot and 10,000 horse, to transport them to 
 France, and maintain them at their own expense.* But 
 Elizabeth, instructed by her wise counsellors, perceived 
 too well the consequences of such a crusade, to second 
 the hasty resentment of her subjects. She was aware 
 that an attack on Prance, to be effectual, would require 
 such a waste of resources as must enfeeble the nation, 
 and render abortive all the frugal measures of her 
 reign ; that Charles and Philip, from a similarity of 
 malignant passions, had formed a close union ; that, 
 against such a combination, the success of her utmost 
 efforts in behalf of the French protestants was, at best, 
 very doubtful ; that the only certain effect of an attack 
 on France would be to exasperate that nation, and ex- 
 haust her own, and thus render Charles and Philip 
 both more eager and more able to accomplish her de- 
 struction. But while she prudently dissembled her in- 
 dignation till a more favourable opportunity, by her 
 secret pecuniary aids to the Hugonots she enabled them 
 again to take the field against Charles, and to procure 
 from his successor, Henry III., conditions comparatively 
 favourable.t 
 
 When the gallant king of Navarre was afterwards 
 called to the throne of France, she openly assisted him 
 against that formidable league of the catholics, which 
 threatened ruin to them both. The apprehended de- 
 sertion of his Swiss and German auxiliaries she pre- 
 vented by a gift of 22,000/., a greater sum, as he 
 declared, than he had ever before seen ; and she added 
 a reinforcement of 4000 men, to whose valour he owed 
 some important successes. A body of Spanish forces 
 having been introduced into Britany, she furnished 
 3000 men to hasten the expulsion of these dangerous 
 neighbours ; but stipulated that her charges should be 
 repaid her in a twelvemonth, or as soon as the enemy 
 
 * Digges, p. 3,35. t Camden, p. 452.
 
 302 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 was expelled.* She afterwards sent another reinforce- 
 ment of 4000 men to effect this object, which proved of 
 great difficulty. Finally, she formed an alliance with 
 the French king, in which it was agreed that they should 
 make no peace with Philip but by common consent ; 
 that she should assist Henry with a reinforcement of 
 4000 men ; and that he, in return, should refund her 
 charges in a twelvemonth, employ a body of troops in 
 aid of her forces in expelling the Spaniards from Bri- 
 tany, and consign into her hands a seaport of that pro- 
 vince for a retreat to the English.^ On various occa- 
 sions she advanced him sums to the amount of 100,0001., 
 but always in the form of a loan ; and when, at length, 
 he began to acquire a decided superiority over his ene- 
 mies, her succours became more sparing as his exigen- 
 cies became less pressing. 
 
 While Elizabeth thus avoided a waste of her re- 
 sources, her aid was so efficient, that Henry IV. grate- 
 fully attributed his triumph to her assistance.- A more 
 liberal distribution of her succours would often have been 
 agreeable to him, yet, as he could not but admire a con- 
 duct so wise, and dictated by maxims so congenial to 
 his own, he continued her steady and sincere friend to 
 the end of her life. Accustomed as we have been, in 
 the present age, to see vast expeditions undertaken 
 against our continental enemies, and vast subsidies 
 thrown, without reflection, into the hands of our allies ; 
 we may be apt to look on this policy of Elizabeth's go- 
 vernment as timid and ungenerous. Yet, with an ex- 
 
 * Camden, p.' 561. When we compare these diminutive aids with the 
 immense armaments sent to the assistance of allies in the present times, we 
 may be surprised to hear Burleigh extolling the liberality of Elizabeth on 
 this occasion, as something altogether extraordinary. Alluding, in a letter 
 to our envoy in France, to this body of auxiliaries under sir John Norris, he 
 adds, " and besides that, her majesty hath presently sent away certain of her 
 ships of war under the charge of sir Henry Palmer, with the number c.;' 
 a thousand men or thereabouts, to serve upon the coast of Bretagne against 
 the Spaniards and against the Leaguers, thereby her majesty's charges 
 grow daily so great, as the French king hath great cause to ackir^wli'iiijt' 
 her majesty's goodness towards him, beyond all other friendships that he 
 hath in the world. And therefore you may do well, wiien you find oppor- 
 tunity, to notify these so great charges both of her majesty and of her 
 realm, as we may hereafter find thankfulness both in the king and in his 
 subjects " Birch's Memoirs of Eliz. vol. i. p. 66. 
 
 t Rymer, voL xvi.
 
 LORD BURLEIOH. SOS 
 
 pense of men and money almost too trifling to be 
 perceptible, it procured, for England, advantages greater 
 perhaps than would have resulted from mighty arma- 
 ments and lavish disbursements. Her protestant allies 
 were not alarmed by the overwhelming succours of an 
 ancient enemy, nor rendered odious in the sight of their 
 countrymen by a too evident dependence on a foreign 
 power. The French people were not roused to any ge- 
 neral combination against her, from the apprehension of 
 passing under her yoke, or sustaining the dismember- 
 ment of their territory. 
 
 The policy which the English government pursued 
 with respect to Scotland, led to some of the most ques- 
 tionable incidents of Elizabeth's reign. That country, 
 narrow and thinly peopled as it was, required the inces- 
 sant attention of its southern neighbour. England, 
 divided from the rest of the world by stormy seas, on 
 which her own fleets now began to ride triumphant, 
 could not be assailed without the most imminent hazard. 
 As a foreign enemy, surrounded by an uncertain ele- 
 ment and annoyed by her fleets, which might eventually 
 cut off both his supplies and his retreat, could hope for 
 safety only from her entire subjugation ; the prepar- 
 ations requisite for such an enterprise would be too vast 
 to be long concealed, and too protracted to be completed 
 before her plans for defence should be matured. But 
 against Scotland she was aided by no such bulwark : in 
 that country stood an array of combatants, dexterous in 
 regular warfare, and separated from her only by a ford- 
 able river, or an imaginary line ; they might assemble 
 and invade her in force, before the news of their ap- 
 proach could reach the seat of government. Even if 
 her hasty levies should succeed in repelling the incur- 
 sion, still the enemy might retire to his own country, 
 loaded with booty, and secure from pursuit ; while the 
 loss of a battle might expose all her northern counties to 
 devastation. 
 
 These, the permanent dangers from an enemy in the 
 north, were at this time increased by circumstances of
 
 304 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 great importance, Since Mary, the youthful queen of 
 Scotland, had espoused the heir apparent to the throne of 
 France, the counsels and energies of both these countries 
 were under the control of her ambitious maternal uncles, 
 the princes of Lorraine. The enterprises which these 
 daring leaders had planned, led them to exert the whole 
 of their power in attempting to dethrone Elizabeth. They 
 had founded their plans on standing forth as the cham- 
 pions of the church, and leaders of the catholic league ; 
 while the power of Elizabeth formed the great bulwark of 
 the protestants. Nor did their means seem inadequate to 
 the mighty undertaking of subverting her throne, and 
 acquiring the uncontrolled sway of the three kingdoms. 
 The title of their niece, Mary, to the throne of England 
 was accounted preferable to that of Elizabeth by all good 
 catholics, who held the marriage of Henry with Catha- 
 rine to be indissoluble, unless by the authority of the 
 pope. The portion of the English people which still ad- 
 hered to the Romish communion was considerable, while 
 the favourers of the Reformation in Scotalnd seemed 
 as yet no ways formidable. If heresy could there be 
 checked in the bud, and the whole Scottish nation ren- 
 dered the partisans of their cause, the princes of Lor- 
 raine had grounds for expectations by no means chime- 
 rical. From France, from Spain, and the other countries 
 which abetted the catholic league, they might hope to 
 pour into Scotland such a body of disciplined troops, as, 
 uniting with the natives, and entering England on her 
 defenceless side, should disperse the raw levies of Eliza- 
 beth, and place their niece on her throne. 
 
 These intentions were manifested by the first move- 
 ments in the gigantic plan. No sooner was the death of 
 Mary of England announced in France, than the queen 
 of Scots and her husband endeavoured to keep alive the 
 hopes of their partisans by assuming the arms and title 
 of king and queen of England. This parade proved 
 rather injurious than useful to the projects of the house 
 of Guise, by discovering their designs, and putting their 
 enemies on their guard ; but more energetic measures
 
 LORD BUBLEIGH. 305 
 
 were, in conformity to their counsels, adopted by their 
 sister, the queen dowager and regent of Scotland. That 
 princess, naturally moderate and politic, had hitherto 
 pursued a system so mild and conciliating, as had, in a 
 great measure, lulled the dangerous dissensions of her 
 country. Now, however, from an undue subserviency 
 to the designs of her brothers, the fatal error of her cha- 
 racter, she began to attempt the extirpation of pro- 
 testantism, by mingling a cruelty which should have 
 shocked her humanity, with a faithlessness from which 
 her moral feelings ought to have revolted. The suffer- 
 ers at length betook themselves to arms ; but the vigour 
 and dexterity of the regent, supported by a body of 
 veteran French troops, soon compelled them to implore 
 assistance from the common protectress of the Reform- 
 ation. 
 
 There were certain circumstances which rendered 
 Elizabeth much less forward in their support than her 
 interest seemed to demand. The principles of the Scot- 
 tish protestants, especially in regard to the form of wor- 
 ship, went far beyond her ideas of reformation ; and the 
 strong tincture of republicanism which appeared in their 
 politics rendered them, in her eyes, suspected and dan- 
 gerous. To abet rebellious subjects, is always a delicate 
 undertaking for sovereigns ; but in a country so closely 
 connected with her own, by vicinity, language, and 
 manners, it seemed most unsafe to encourage the sup- 
 porters of those civil and religious principles, which, at 
 home, all her authority was employed to suppress.* To 
 these dissuasives, her love .of economy gave additional 
 force ; since it was manifest that the necessities of the 
 Scots would require considerable supplies, while their 
 poverty left her no hope of reimbursement. 
 
 It was, we are informed, by the representations of 
 Cecil that she at length permitted these considerations 
 to give way to others still more urgent and important. 
 Two papers, written with his own hand, and still pre- 
 
 * Elizabeth's Letter to the Earl of Bedford, in Appendix, No. XIII. 
 to Robertson's Scotland.
 
 306 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 served, contain the reasonings in which he explained to 
 the queen and her council the propriety and necessity of 
 interfering in the affairs of Scotland.* Setting out with 
 the principle that every society has a right to provide 
 for its security both against present and future dangers, 
 and to turn against its enemies the means employed by 
 them for its annoyance, he proceeds to show, that the 
 safety of England could be secured only by sending pow- 
 erful and immediate assistance to the Scottish protest- 
 ants. Elizabeth felt the force of these arguments ; but 
 her first succours, consisting in some small remittances 
 of money, were so inadequate, as to produce no effect in 
 favour of her friends. Afterwards, however, when Scot- 
 land could not otherwise be rescued from entire subju- 
 gation by her enemies, she formed with the protestants 
 a league offensive and defensive ; sent a powerful fleet 
 to guard the Forth against reinforcements from France, 
 and, by the aid of a land force, enabled the Scots to drive 
 the French from the field, and besiege them in their last 
 refuge at Leith. 
 
 This timely and vigorous effort, in support of the 
 Scottish protestants, led to a treaty in which Cecil and 
 Dr. Wotton, the plenipotentiaries of Elizabeth, partly 
 from their talents, partly from the desperate situation of 
 their enemies, procured the most advantageous terms for 
 their allies. The Scottish parliament, of which the 
 great majority now adhered to the reformed faith, ob- 
 tained almost the whole direction of public affairs. It 
 was stipulated, that this assembly should meet and act 
 with the same full powers as if formally convoked by the 
 sovereign : that, during the absence of their young queen, 
 the administration should be vested in twelve commis- 
 sioners, of which the queen should select seven, and the 
 parliament five, out of twenty-four persons named by the 
 parliament : that, without the consent of this assembly, 
 neither war should be declared nor peace concluded : that 
 the French troops should be immediately removed to 
 their own country, and the fortresses of Leith and Dun- 
 * Burnet, voL Hi. Appendix.
 
 LORD BUBLEIGH. 307 
 
 bar, then in their possession, demolished : that in future 
 no foreign troops should be introduced, and no fort 
 erected, without the permission of parliament : that no 
 foreigner should hereafter be advanced to any place of 
 trust or dignity in the kingdom : and that there should 
 be a general act of amnesty for those who had opposed 
 the measures of government. The security of the pro- 
 testant faith was fully provided for by an article which 
 left all matters respecting religion to the decision of par- 
 liament.* 
 
 The politic moderation of Elizabeth and her ministers 
 was conspicuous in the articles stipulated for England. 
 The English forces as well as the French were to be 
 withdrawn from Scotland ; former treaties were renewed, 
 and the only additional article was, that the right of 
 Elizabeth to the English throne should be formally ac- 
 knowledged, Mary and her husband ceasing, from thence- 
 forward, to assume the title or bear the arms of Eng- 
 land. Elizabeth had indeed enjoined her plenipoten- 
 tiaries to demand 500,000 crowns, and the restitution 
 of Calais, as a compensation for the indignity already 
 offered to her, by the assumption of her arms and title : 
 but these conditions, to which the French commissioners 
 had no power to agree, were at length referred to future 
 discussion.t 
 
 At so small an expense, and with an exertion so tri- 
 vial, compared to the magnitude of the object, did the 
 English government, by its vigour and sagacity, succeed 
 in giving a complete ascendancy to its protestant allies 
 in Scotland. And when the catholic religion was abo- 
 lished, and the reformed established by law, that country, 
 instead of affording particular facilities to the enemies of 
 Elizabeth, became a new bulwark to her throne. 
 
 The return of Mary to Scotland, and her assumption 
 of the reins of government, led to plans of policy, in 
 which the passions of Elizabeth interfered so much with 
 
 * Keith, 137. Rymer, vol. xv. p. 593. 
 
 f See Letter of Elizabeth to Cecil and Wotton, in Lodge's Illustrations of 
 British History, voL i. p. 338. 
 
 x 2
 
 308 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 the dictates of her understanding, and the counsels of 
 her ministers, that we are bewildered amidst the effects 
 of an irresolution, duplicity, and contradiction, which her 
 usual systematic procedure does not prepare us to expect. 
 The unfortunate Mary undertook the administration of 
 her kingdom in circumstances where the sagacity of 
 experience and the coolness of age could scarcely have 
 conducted to a successful issue the delicate interests 
 committed to youth and indiscretion. Her subjects,> still 
 in the ferment of a religious revolution, entertained vio- 
 lent prejudices against their sovereign. It was fresh in 
 their recollection, that the cruel persecutions from which 
 they had just escaped were carried on at the instigation 
 of Mary's uncles, and under the authority of her mother ; 
 and they knew that plans were concerted by the house of 
 Guise for the final extirpation of the protestant religion. 
 Unfortunately they had too strong reasons to suspect that 
 their queen, devoted to popery and to the will of her 
 uncles, would not scruple to concur in the most danger- 
 ous designs. Stimulated by these considerations, they 
 scrutinised every step of her conduct with the most jea- 
 lous care : and as the rudeness of manners in that age 
 had been heightened by the convulsions and dangers of 
 a revolution, they treated her with a harshness, which, 
 in her eyes, might well appear indignity to a sovereign, 
 and brutality to a woman. 
 
 Mary, educated in the polished, gay, and arbitrary 
 court of France, was equally shocked with the coarse- 
 ness of the Scots, the moroseness of their manners, and 
 the republican principles which they had imbibed with 
 their new religion. Nor were her more serious thoughts 
 less outraged than her taste. While scarcely allowed to 
 exercise, in her private chapel, those rites to which she 
 was fondly attached, she daily heard them treated with 
 insulting contumely, and herself reproached as a deluded 
 and desperate idolatress. With a spirit too high and 
 with passions too lively to submit to such mortification, 
 or to win the confidence of her people by a train of pru- 
 dent and conciliating measures, she endeavoured, in the
 
 LORD BURLEIGII. 309 
 
 conversation and amusements of a few favourite domes- 
 tics, to recall her former scenes of enjoyment, and to lose 
 the recollection of her present hardships. But, by a pe- 
 culiar infelicity, the attachments of Mary were more 
 fatal to her happiness than even her aversions ; and the 
 unworthy objects on whom her affection was succes- 
 sively fixed proved the principal means of precipitating 
 her ruin. By her choice of a youth whose head and 
 heart were no less defective than his external appear- 
 ance was captivating, a catholic in his creed, and a liber- 
 tine in his morals, she shocked the pious, and alienated 
 the wise* : and when her infatuated fondness was soon 
 succeeded by unconquerable aversion, the change was 
 attributed, not to the return of reason, but the fickleness 
 of passion. The confidence and familiarity with which 
 she distinguished an unworthy minion seemed to argue 
 a strange depravity of taste ; which her enemies readily 
 accounted for by supposing a still stranger depravity of 
 morals. But when, in opposition to the united voice of 
 her subjects, to all laws divine and human, she bestowed 
 her affections on the murderer of her husband, screened 
 him from the vengeance of outraged justice, and made 
 him the partaker of her bed and her authority, the in- 
 dignation of her subjects could no longer be kept within 
 the bounds of allegiance. They took up arms against 
 her, formally deposed her from the sovereignty, and 
 finally compelled her to seek for refuge in England. 
 
 During these transactions, the interference of the 
 English government was hesitating, indecisive, and con- 
 tradictory. The confidential ministers of Elizabeth, 
 strongly tinctured with the religious opinions of the 
 Scottish reformers, and looking on the ascendancy of 
 Mary as the chief source of danger to their government, 
 appear to have been unanimously of opinion that the 
 Scottish protestants ought to be supported ; and their 
 queen, if not dethroned, at least involved in perpetual 
 difficulties. Had Elizabeth consulted merely her per- 
 
 * See Letter from Randolph to Leicester, in Appendix XI. to Robertson's 
 Scotland. . 
 
 x 3
 
 310 BRITISH STATES3IEN*. 
 
 sonal feelings towards Mary, her measures would have 
 been no less hostile than the counsels of her ministers. 
 Her resentment against a competitor who had assumed 
 her title, and affected to consider her birth as illegitimate, 
 was aggravated by hatred of a rival who eclipsed her in 
 those personal charms of which she was no less tenacious 
 than of her sovereignty. The animosity thus fostered 
 in her breast became apparent on various occasions. When 
 Mary, on her return from France to her own dominions, 
 solicited a safe-conduct from Elizabeth, this request, al- 
 though a mere matter of complaisance, was refused by 
 the latter, with an ill-humour which seemed to indicate 
 very unfriendly intentions.* In the same manner, 
 every overture for the marriage of the Scottish queen 
 was industriously counteracted by her jealous neigh- 
 bour ; and when Darnley at length became the object of 
 her choice, Elizabeth reproached her with this marriage, 
 as with a crime against herself and her government. 
 Nor did Mary take any measures to conciliate a rival 
 whom she looked on as the usurper of her rights, and 
 the enemy of her person and religion. She refused to 
 ratify that article of the treaty of Edinburgh by which 
 she was bound to renounce her claims to the English 
 throne ; and she occasionally expressed her indignation, 
 with more frankness than prudence, against the ill-con- 
 cealed malignity of Elizabeth.t 
 
 Yet, notwithstanding her personal animosity to Mary, 
 the queen of England was far from entering cordially 
 into the view's of the Scottish protestants. Their tenets, 
 both civil and religious, so nearly allied to those of her 
 own puritans, were the object of her decided aversion ; 
 their ascendancy was the last means by which she 
 wished the humiliation of her rival. The imprudent 
 attachments, and the consequent unpopularity and igno- 
 miny of the Scottish queen, probably afforded her more 
 satisfaction than regret ; and it appears that her ambas- 
 sadors, of themselves well inclined to the task, were 
 encouraged in fomenting the dissensions between the 
 * See Appendix VI. to Robertson's Scotland. t Keith, App. 159.
 
 LORD BUBLEIGH. 311 
 
 court and the people of Scotland. But when the 
 " Congregation " proceeded to try their sovereign for the 
 crimes of which she was accused, and to deprive her of 
 her throne and her liberty in consequence of their own 
 award, the high monarchical sentiments of Elizabeth 
 were alarmed. She sternly demanded an explanation of 
 their presumptuous conduct ; and as their republican 
 justification was even more offensive to her than their 
 measures, she endeavoured by threats to procure the 
 release and restoration of their sovereign. She seems 
 even to have formed the resolution of attempting this 
 object by force of arms, in opposition to the strenuous 
 remonstrances of Cecil and her other ministers, who re- 
 presented the danger of employing her arms to crush 
 her most useful friends, and reinstate her mortal enemy. 
 So thoroughly were the Scottish protestants convinced of 
 her alienation from their interests, that they refused her 
 ambassador admittance to their captive queen, and pre- 
 pared to support themselves by other alliances. Already 
 had their overtures been favourably received by the 
 French, who made no scruple of abandoning Mary, 
 provided they could maintain their ascendancy in Scot- 
 land ; and the English resident had repeatedly warned 
 his court of this danger, inevitable, unless Elizabeth 
 should alter her conduct towards the Scottish pro- 
 testants.* 
 
 The escape of Mary from confinement, and her sub- 
 sequent retreat into England, produced a new course of 
 policy on the part of Elizabeth. Her confidential 
 ministers, more alive to the supposed interests of their 
 country and religion than to the dictates of generosity, 
 seem to have been unanimously of opinion, that the 
 Scottish queen, instead of being aided by Elizabeth 
 against her subjects, should, under specious pretences, 
 be detained in a lasting captivity.t Her enmity to the 
 
 * See a Letter from sir Nicholas Throgmorton to Cecil, in Appendix 
 XXI. to Robertson's Scotland. Also from thesame to queen Elizabeth, ibid. 
 
 Cecil, 
 and i 
 
 x 4
 
 31 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 protestant religion, and to Elizabeth, they considered 
 implacable ; and were she restored by the arms of Eng- 
 land to her throne, she would not, they thought, scruple 
 to turn her regained authority against her benefactors. 
 On the other hand, her detention would give the English 
 government a complete control over the affairs of Scot- 
 land ; for the Scottish protestants would not fail to re- 
 spect her will while she had their queen in her hands, 
 and could punish them by restoring an exasperated so- 
 vereign to their throne. Nor did they see how these 
 advantages could be attained by a procedure less harsh 
 than the captivity of Mary. To refuse her an asylum 
 would be replete with danger : that high-spirited princess 
 would not fail to raise France and Spain in her cause ; 
 to procure from their willing ambition large forces for 
 her restoration ; and, stimulated both by ancient and 
 recent animosities, to employ her recovered power in 
 hostility to England. 
 
 These representations produced a powerful impression 
 on Elizabeth, confirmed as they were by certain peculi- 
 arities in the situation of her rival, which admitted of 
 severe measures being taken against her, without com- 
 promising the cause of sovereigns, or exciting general 
 indignation against herself. Mary was accused of a 
 crime horrible to mankind, participation in the mur- 
 der of her husband ; and her marriage with his reputed 
 murderer had impressed a belief of her guilt, not easily 
 to be effaced. While she laboured under the general 
 indignation, her detention would be applauded by 
 many, and warmly resented by none. On the other 
 hand, the throne, if upheld as a sanctuary for such 
 crimes, would become odious in the eyes of ah 1 ; and 
 Elizabeth, in supporting such a tenet, would weaken her 
 own authority while she outraged the feelings of man- 
 kind. 
 
 These considerations made Elizabeth determine to 
 detain the Scottish queen, not as a royal guest, who had 
 
 wards pursued with regard to her, is inserted in. the Appendix. Also the 
 deliberations of Cecil on the same subject
 
 LORD BUBLEIGH. 313 
 
 come to claim her protection, but as a prisoner brought 
 by happy accident into her power. From this com- 
 mencement her hatred to Mary progressively increased 
 by a variety of causes. Conscious that the detention of 
 Mary was a new source of resentment, the commission 
 of the injury became a cause for its aggravation. De- 
 riving, from the ill-advised concessions and subsequent 
 retractations of the Scottish queen, a semblance of right 
 to judge in her cause, and a colour for assuming her 
 guilt as undeniable, both she and her people came gra- 
 dually to regard the captive less as a sovereign princess 
 than as a criminal subject of England. The mind of 
 Elizabeth was perpetually agitated by the apprehension 
 of her prisoner's escape, and more than once by the 
 discovery of conspiracies, which Mary incautiously coun- 
 tenanced. All these proved new incentives to her 
 hatred, and prompted her to a measure from which her 
 tenderness for the rights of sovereigns would at first 
 have made her revolt with horror. 
 
 From the letters and the conduct of Elizabeth in 
 regard to Mary, we perceive that she aimed at two 
 irreconcilable objects. She longed for the destruction 
 of her dangerous prisoner, and she no less earnestly 
 desired to have it accomplished without her apparent 
 concurrence or connivance. She seems to have long 
 hoped that Mary would sink under the rigours of her 
 confinement, or fall a sacrifice to the discontent of her 
 keeper.' The earl of Shrewsbury, to whose custody she 
 was intrusted, was subjected to great restraint and 
 privation. Although entirely devoted to Elizabeth, and 
 sufficiently willing to deprive Mary of every enjoy- 
 ment *, his disposition was rendered still more narrow 
 and intractable, by the severe and ungenerous usage 
 which he experienced from his sovereign. The allow- 
 ances which he received for the maintenance of the 
 queen of Scots were so inadequate, that the deficiency 
 impaired his private fortune ; and after many years of 
 this unprofitable charge, when he at length expected 
 
 * See Shrewsbury's letter to lord Burghley, in Lodge, vol. ii. p. 68.
 
 314 BRITISH STATESMEN 
 
 some signal mark of royal bounty, to his inexpressible 
 astonishment and mortification, he received an order 
 from court by which his appointments, instead of being 
 increased, were diminished one half.* When the re- 
 trenchments, which this strange piece of economy natu- 
 rally led him to make in the diet and accommodations 
 of Mary, were complained of by the French ambassador, 
 Shrewsbury received a letter from court, expressing the 
 displeasure of his queen in strong terms, but containing 
 no intimation that his former allowances would be 
 restored, t 
 
 Other circumstances concurred to make Shrewsbury 
 dissatisfied with his charge. As his whole time and 
 attention were occupied in watching over his prisoner, 
 his private affairs were neglected ; and his tenants, in 
 various parts of the country, taking advantage of his 
 situation, contrived to evade his claims, by involving 
 him in troublesome lawsuits.* If he ventured on an 
 excursion from the residence of Mary, he was sure to 
 be reminded , by a severe reprimand, of his duty. || 
 If a friend happened to pay him a visit, a letter full of 
 insinuations showed him that the jealousy of his sove- 
 reign was roused. At length, by a strange excess of 
 severity, his very children were not permitted to visit 
 him ; and he was almost reduced to despair, when his 
 earnest entreaties, seconded by the friendship of Cecil, 
 and some of the other ministers, procured his release 
 from an intolerable bondage. 5T 
 
 To sir Amias Paulet, one of the gentlemen to whom 
 the royal prisoner was afterwards committed, Elizabeth 
 seems to have given a much more explicit intimation of 
 her wishes. Paulet had entered into the royal associ- 
 ation for bringing to punishment all pretenders to the 
 throne who should attempt her life ; and she seemed to 
 
 * Letters from Shrewsbury to lord Burghley, in Lodge, roL ii. p. 244. 270. 
 272. 
 
 t Letter from Leicester to Shrewsbury, ibid., vol. it p. 253. 
 
 j Letter from the earl of Shrewsbury, ibid. p. 275. $ Ibid. 
 
 || Letter from Shrewsbury to the queen, ibid. p. 246. 
 
 t Letter from Shrewsbury to lord Burghley, ibid., TO!, ii. p. 24". Let. 
 ter from the same, p. 248.
 
 BURLEIGH. 315 
 
 expect that he would rid her of her enemy, without 
 subjecting her to the necessity, which she so earnestly 
 wished to avoid, of actually signing the death-warrant. * 
 This gentleman refused to be her instrument in so base 
 a deed, which she would have both disavowed and 
 punished ; and no other course remained but to autho- 
 rise the execution of the sentence against Mary : but 
 Elizabeth affected the utmost reluctance to a step which 
 her parliament and people, who heartily hated and 
 dreaded the queen of Scots, so earnestly pressed. To 
 such a length were her hopes of deceiving mankind by 
 this duplicity carried, that, even after having deliberately 
 signed the warrant, and delivered it to Davison, her 
 secretary of state, she pretended, on hearing that it was 
 actually executed, the utmost astonishment, grief, and 
 indignation. Loudly accusing the secretary of having 
 surreptitiously sent off the warrant, in direct opposition 
 to her inclination, she caused the unfortunate man to be 
 subjected, on this charge, to a heavy fine, which she 
 levied, to his utter ruin. 
 
 If the part which Cecil bore in these transactions has 
 brought censure on his memory, it brought no less un- 
 happiness on his mind. His opinion respecting the 
 queen of Scots, and the manner of her treatment, coin- 
 cided with those of his colleagues in office. While he 
 looked on her as the most dangerous enemy of his 
 sovereign and his religion, he considered her liberty, 
 and even her life, as scarcely compatible with the safety 
 of either. Yet her confinement freed him neither from 
 anxiety nor danger ; his vigilance was incessantly oc- 
 cupied in counteracting the plots of her partisans, which 
 aimed to involve himself and his queen in one destruc- 
 tion. Mary even proved a source of disquietude to him, 
 in a way which he could least have expected. Having, 
 from motives of humanity, obtained Elizabeth's reluc- 
 tant consent that the captive queen, whose health had 
 suffered much from confinement, should be carried to 
 
 * Secretary Davison's Apology, in Cainden's Annals, p. 545.
 
 316 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 Buxton Wells for her recovery *, he happened, during 
 her stay there, to visit the same place for the relief of 
 his own complaints. His jealous sovereign, connecting 
 this accidental meeting with his frequent applications to 
 mitigate the severities practised against Mary (for he 
 was averse to all unnecessary harshness), conceived the 
 strange suspicion that he had a private understanding 
 with the queen of Scots, and had repaired to Buxton for 
 the purpose of maturing some treacherous project, t 
 Nor was this chimerical surmise the transient apprehen- 
 sion of a moment. On his return to court, he was 
 charged by Elizabeth with this imaginary intrigue, in 
 terms most injurious to his tried fidelity ; and he found 
 it prudent to decline a match between his daughter and 
 the son of the earl of Shrewsbury, the keeper of Mary, 
 and the supposed agent in their secret negotiations. J 
 
 But while thus strangely suspected by Elizabeth, 
 Cecil was, above all others, obnoxious to the partisans 
 of Mary. Having been the chief means of discovering 
 and overthrowing the conspiracies of Norfolk, he was 
 reproached as the cause of that popular nobleman's 
 death ; though the repetition of the duke's treasonable 
 attempts, after he had once been pardoned, seemed to 
 render him no fit object of royal clemency. To con- 
 sider Cecil as his private enemy seems altogether unfair. 
 He was instrumental in procuring the pardon of Norfolk 
 after his first offence ; he endeavoured, by salutary 
 counsels, to dissuade him from the prosecution of his 
 pernicious schemes ; and, in some of his writings, which 
 still remain, he laments the infatuation of his grace, 
 which rendered all good subjects his public enemies, 
 however they might respect his private virtues. Yet 
 the whole odium of Norfolk's death was thrown on him ; 
 and the general reproach was countenanced by the un- 
 blushing duplicity of Elizabeth. That princess, though 
 
 * Letter from Cecil to Shrewsbury, in Lodge, roL ii. p. 111. 
 f Ibid. p. 130. t Ibid. 
 
 $ Camden, p. 255. Lloyd's State Worthies, p. 540. Burleigh's Meditation 
 on the Reign of Elizabeth, &c.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 317 
 
 she had authorised the execution without any reluctance, 
 was anxious to have it believed that she had only yielded 
 to the importunities of Cecil. The minister was, for 
 some time after, treated as a person who had deluded 
 her into an act repugnant to her nature ; and he was not 
 received again into her presence and favour until she 
 thought that appearances were sufficiently satisfied. But 
 he had yet to connect a private and deeper affliction with 
 the fate of Norfolk. One of Cecil's daughters was un- 
 fortunately married to a profligate husband, the earl of 
 Oxford : that young nobleman, much attached to Nor- 
 folk, threatened his father-in-law, that, unless he would 
 undertake to procure the duke's pardon, he would do all 
 in his power to ruin his daughter. This threat he exe- 
 cuted with inhuman punctuality : and after having de- 
 serted her bed, and squandered his fortune in the most 
 abandoned courses, he brought, by a train of barbarous 
 usage, his innocent victim to an untimely grave.* 
 
 The selfish Elizabeth felt no remorse in attempting 
 to load Cecil with the odium of the execution of Mary, 
 as well as of Norfolk. He appears to have had no 
 greater share in advising it than the other ministers : 
 but as he was accounted a principal enemy of the queen 
 of Scots, Elizabeth judged' that an imputation against 
 him would be most readily received ; and, with this un- 
 generous view, she banished him from her presence, and 
 treated him with all the harshness due to an unfaithful 
 counsellor. Cecil appears, on this occasion, to have 
 been seriously alarmed ; ministers were not, in that age, 
 protected against the crown, and the misfortunes of 
 secretary Davison, then passing before his eyes, proved 
 to him that, if Elizabeth should account a further sacri- 
 fice necessary for her purposes, little was to be expected 
 either from her justice or gratitude. But, as the sin- 
 cerity of her indignation had been testified sufficiently 
 for political purposes by the ruin of Davison, and as 
 the services of Cecil were too useful to be dispensed 
 
 * Dugdale's Baronage, voL ii. p. 169
 
 318 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 with, she suffered herself to be at length mollified, and 
 received him again into favour. * 
 
 We have now taken a survey of the part acted by 
 Cecil in regard to religion, to domestic and to foreign 
 policy. A striking characteristic, and one hardly ever 
 possessed to an equal degree by other statesmen, was a 
 uniformity in his plans, the result of a mind always 
 cool and deliberate, seldom blinded by prejudice, and 
 never precipitated by passion. On some occasions we 
 may dissent from his opinion, and in a few we may 
 suspect the qualities of his heart ; but, in general, we 
 must allow that the measures which Elizabeth pursued 
 in opposition to his sentiments were the chief defects 
 of her government ; while those which she adopted in 
 conformity to his counsels produced the boasted pro- 
 sperity and glory of her reign. 
 
 It has long since been observed, that the most suc- 
 cessful statesman is scarcely an object of envy ; that his 
 pre-eminence is dearly purchased by unceasing disquie- 
 tudes, and that his honours are an inadequate com- 
 pensation for his mortifications and dangers. While 
 nations, like individuals, are liable to be agitated by violent 
 passions, and misled by false views of interest, the 
 advocate of moderation and peace is often the object of 
 popular reproach. Such was not unfrequently the case 
 of Cecil. So wildly were the minds of men possessed 
 with the prospect of military glory and Mexican gold, 
 that his opposition to the continuance of the Spanish 
 war subjected him even to personal danger from the 
 populace. The more violent among the clergy, because 
 he attempted to restrain their persecuting spirit, reviled 
 him as a puritan in disguise, as a secret enemy to the 
 church ; while the more zealous dissenters were no less 
 suspicious of his endeavours to persuade them into con- 
 formity. From his supposed influence in public affairs, 
 the enemies of government were also his personal enemies. 
 The friends of Mary queen of Scots, and the partisans 
 of the popish religion, regarded him as their capital foe ; 
 1 * Strype's Annals, vol. iii. p. 370.
 
 LORD BUBLEIGH. 
 
 and not satisfied with incessantly defaming him hy 
 libels, they attempted more than once to take him off by 
 assassination. In one of these attempts, for which two 
 assassins were executed, the Spanish ambassador was 
 suspected to have been concerned, and was, in con- 
 sequence, ordered to depart the kingdom. 
 
 His influence with Elizabeth exposed him to equal 
 hatred from the majority of the courtiers. The earl of 
 Leicester was at the head of all the intrigues against 
 him, and made, on one occasion, a bold effort to accom- 
 plish his ruin. In concert with the principal courtiers, 
 he planned that Cecil should be unexpectedly accused 
 before the privy council, arrested without the knowledge 
 of the queen, and immediately sent to the Tower. 
 When thus removed from the queen's presence, abun- 
 dance of accusations, it was imagined, might be pro- 
 cured to elicit her consent to his trial and condemnation.* 
 This plot had nearly reached its accomplishment, and 
 Cecil was resisting his accusers in the privy council 
 with very little effect, when Elizabeth, who had been 
 privately informed of the design, suddenly entered the 
 room, and addressed, to the astonished counsellors, one 
 of those appalling reprimands which were more dis- 
 tinguished for vigour than delicacy.-]- 
 
 As a compensation for these disquietudes, and a re- 
 compense for his services, we should not be surprised to 
 find Cecil loaded with the favours of his sovereign. 
 But that princess was proverbially frugal of her rewards. 
 Her love of economy was frequently carried to a blame- 
 able excess, and her confidential ministers abridged of 
 the means to serve her with advantage. There remain 
 various letters of sir Francis Walsingham, complaining 
 of his being wholly unable, on his scanty appointments, 
 to support his establishment, though very inadequate to 
 his quality of ambassador in France. | Other ministers 
 had equal reason for complaint ; and there were many 
 more fortunes spent than made in her service. In the 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 19. f Camden's Annals Eliz. 
 
 . t Harleian MSS. in British Museum, No. 260. ;
 
 320 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 distribution of honours her frugality was no less con- 
 spicuous, and could be ascribed only to sound policy, 
 uninfluenced by meaner motives. Aware that titles, 
 unless accounted indicative of real merit in those on 
 whom they were bestowed, would cease to confer dis- 
 tinction, she distributed them with a careful and sparing 
 hand ; and the honours of the earl of Leicester afford 
 perhaps a solitary instance, in her reign, of a title ac- 
 quired without desert. A title from Elizabeth was 
 consequently a real reward, and was deemed an adequate 
 retribution for the most important services. 
 
 If Cecil was better rewarded than the other ministers, 
 we must own that his claims were greater ; and we shall 
 find that the favours which he received were neither 
 hastily bestowed, nor carried beyond his merits. In 
 consequence of his efforts in repressing the rebellion 
 which attended the duke of Norfolk's first conspiracy, he 
 was created a baron, the highest title he ever attained. 
 The other favours which he received, consisting in 
 official situations, could hardly be denominated rewards, 
 since they brought him additional business, which he 
 executed with punctuality and diligence. After con- 
 cluding the treaty of Edinburgh, he was appointed 
 master of the wards, an office in virtue of which he had 
 to preside in the court of wards, and 'to determine a 
 variety of questions between the sovereign and the 
 subject. Eleven years afterwards, lord Burleigh (such 
 was his new title) was raised to the office of lord high 
 treasurer, which, along with great dignity, brought him 
 an immense addition of complicated business. An 
 accumulation of offices in the hands of one man naturally 
 led to much envy, and was certainly a very blameable 
 precedent ; but the fidelity and ability with which he 
 executed their duties must, in his case, alleviate the 
 censure of posterity. 
 
 Lord Burleigh continued minister during a period of 
 unexampled length, and in an age when men in office 
 were exposed to the rudest assaults of faction and in- 
 trigue. To investigate the means by which he main-
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 321 
 
 tained his station cannot fail to be instructive, devoid 
 as they were of the craft and subtlety so frequently 
 connected with the name of politician. The arts to 
 which he owed his success were not less honourable than 
 skilful, and would have raised him to influence and 
 reputation in the walks of private life. For nothing was 
 he more remarkable than for his unremitting diligence 
 and scrupulous punctuality. Whatever the engage- 
 ments of others, whether the pursuit of pleasure or the 
 cabals of the court, Burleigh was always found at his 
 post, intensely occupied with the duties of office and the 
 cares of government. A young courtier of those times, 
 while describing the intrigues with which all around 
 him were busied, observes, " My lord treasurer, even 
 after the old manner, dealeth with matters of state only, 
 and beareth himself very uprightly." * The degree of 
 his industry may be estimated from its effects, which 
 were altogether wonderful. As principal secretary of 
 state, and for a considerable time as sole secretary, he 
 managed a great proportion of the public business, both 
 foreign and domestic : he conducted negotiations, planned 
 expeditions, watched over the machinations of internal 
 enemies, employed private sources of intelligence, assisted 
 at the deliberations of the privy council and parliament, 
 and wrote many tracts on the state of affairs. When 
 created lord high treasurer, his concern with the general 
 affairs of government continued, while he had, moreover, 
 to attend to the receipts and disbursements of the nation, 
 to devise means for replenishing the treasury, and to 
 sit occasionally in the court of Exchequer, as judge 
 between the people and the officers of the revenue. As 
 master of the court of wards, he had much judicial 
 occupation during term ; for his equitable decisions 
 brought before him an unusual accumulation of suits. 
 Nor did he neglect those numerous petitions with which 
 he was perpetually importuned, some demanding the 
 reward of services, others imploring the redress of 
 
 * Letter from Gilbert Talbot to the Earl of Shrewsbury, in Lodge. 
 voL ii. p. 100. 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 S22 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 injuries ; and, amidst all these avocations, his private 
 affairs were managed with the same precision as those of 
 the state. 
 
 All this load of business he was enabled, by assiduous 
 application and exact method, to despatch without either 
 hurry or confusion. In conformity to his favourite max- 
 im, that " the shortest way to do many things is to do 
 only one thing at once," he finished each branch of busi- 
 ness before he proceeded to another, and never left a 
 thing undone with the view of recurring to it at a period 
 of more leisure. In the courts where he presided, he de- 
 spatched as many causes in one term as his predecessors 
 in a twelvemonth.* When pressed with an accumula- 
 tion of affairs, which frequently happened, he rather 
 chose to encroach on the moderate intervals usually 
 allowed to his meals and his sleep, than to omit any part 
 of his task. Even when labouring under pain, and in 
 danger of increasing his malady, he frequently caused 
 himself to be carried to his office for the despatch of 
 business. An eye-witness assures us that, during a period 
 of twenty-four years, he never saw him idle for half an 
 hour together t ; and if he had no particular task to ex- 
 ecute, which rarely happened, he would still busy him- 
 self in reading, writing, or meditating. | By incessant 
 practice, he acquired a facility and despatch which 
 seemed altogether wonderful to idle courtiers ; it proved 
 of incalculable advantage to government, and to himself 
 it gave a decided superiority over his less industrious 
 rivals. 
 
 Next to his unequalled diligence and punctuality we 
 are to rank his invincible reserve, whenever reserve was 
 necessary. While he avoided that system of deception 
 by which statesmen have so often undertaken to gain 
 their ends, he succeeded in concealing his real views, by 
 the mere maintenance of a guarded secrecy. Perfectly 
 impenetrable to the dexterous agents who were employed 
 to sound him, his unaltered countenance and unembar- 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 2t t Ibid. p. 24. 
 
 t Ibid. p. 65.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 323 
 
 rassed motions afforded no means to divine the impres- 
 sions produced on him by any communications. Equally 
 hopeless was the attempt to arrive at his political secrets 
 by procuring access to his most intimate friends for he 
 had no confidants.* " Attempts/' he said, " are most 
 likely to succeed when planned deliberately, carried 
 secretly, and executed speedily." -j- 
 
 The resolution with which he could persevere in his 
 reserve was remarkably exemplified in his silence with 
 respect to the succession to the throne. Three rival fa- 
 milies at that time claimed this splendid inheritance, 
 die houses of Suffolk and Hastings, and the royal line 
 of Scotland: the title of either might have been ren- 
 dered preferable by an act of parliament. But Burleigh 
 saw the danger of declaring in favour of one or other. 
 All were at present restrained from improper attempts by 
 their expectations ; but if the intentions of the queen 
 were once known, the disappointed families might be apt 
 to embrace those violent measures from which alone they 
 could then hope for success. He determined, therefore, 
 to maintain a profound silence on this delicate question ; 
 and the queen, probably in consequence of his counsels, 
 adopted and persevered in the same resolution, in spite 
 of all the remonstrances with which she was assailed. 
 The parliament often attempted to force a disclosure of 
 her sentiments, and she and her minister found much 
 difficulty in eluding their importunities ; yet Burleigh 
 carried his opinion with him to the grave, and Elizabeth 
 disclosed hers only on her death-bed. 
 
 No statesman was ever more distinguished for self- 
 command and moderation. Collected, calm, and ener- 
 getic in the most critical emergencies, he bore adversity 
 without any signs of dejection, and prosperity without 
 any apparent elevation.^: Yet his coolness had in it 
 nothing repulsive ; and his self-command was chiefly 
 exerted in repressing angry emotions. In council, he 
 was always the strenuous advocate of moderate and con- 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 64. t Ibid., p. 69. 
 
 t Ibid. p. 30. 
 
 Y 2
 
 324 BRITISH STATESMAN'. 
 
 ciliating measures* ; and it was his particular boast that, 
 notwithstanding the extent of his private as well as his 
 public transactions, he had never sued nor been sued by 
 any man.f He bore the attacks of his opponents with- 
 out any appearance of resentment ; and, in due season, 
 embraced opportunities to promote their interest. When 
 the earl of Leicester, who had always thwarted his mea- 
 sures, and often calumniated his character, at length fell 
 under the queen's displeasure, Burleigh successfully ex- 
 erted himself to prevent his total loss of favour.^ Nor 
 did he hesitate to form a cordial reconciliation with sir 
 Nicholas Throgmorton, who had long been one of his 
 most dangerous enemies, and who had desisted from his 
 practices only when he found Burleigh's power too firmly 
 established to be shaken. Although Essex was his 
 avowed and turbulent opponent, yet, when Elizabeth 
 refused some just claim of that nobleman, the lord trea- 
 surer supported his cause with so much firmness, that 
 the enraged queen at length bestowed on him some of 
 those vehement epithets by which she made her courtiers 
 feel her displeasure. It was observed that he never 
 spoke harshly of his enemies, nor embraced any oppor- 
 tunity of revenge ; and as he was no less on his guard to 
 avoid every undue bias from affection, it became a gene- 
 ral remark that he was a better enemy than a friend. || 
 " I entertain," he said, " malice against no individual 
 whatever ; and I thank God that I never retired to rest 
 out of charity with any man."^[ 
 
 Burleigh possessed great discernment in selecting, and 
 great zeal in recommending, men of talent for public em- 
 ployments. He seemed resolved that England should be 
 distinguished above all nations for the integrity of her 
 judges, the piety of her divines, and the sagacity of her 
 
 * " Win hearts," he was accustomed to say to the queen, " and you have 
 their hands and purses." Rushirorth's Collections, vol. i. p. 469. 
 
 t Bacon's Works, vol. iv. p. 372. 
 
 J Letter of Lord Burghley in the Earl of Hardwicke's Miscellaneous 
 State Papers, voL i. p. 329. 
 
 Birch's Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 147. 
 
 I Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 59. 1 Ibid.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 325 
 
 ambassadors.* It was he who discovered and brought 
 into office sir Francis Walsingham, so much distin- 
 guished among the ministers of Elizabeth for acuteness 
 of penetration, extensive knowledge of public affairs, 
 and profound acquaintance with human nature. The 
 department of foreign affairs was long almost exclusively 
 under the management of Burleigh ; and there is per- 
 haps no period in the history of England in which her 
 intercourse with other countries was committed to such 
 able hands, and in which her ambassadors confessedly 
 excelled those of other nations in diplomatic talents. By 
 this attention to merit and neglect of interest, the trea- 
 surer naturally incurred much obloquy from those whom 
 his penetration caused him to neglect : the nobility, in 
 particular, expressed high displeasure at the preference so 
 often given to commons, and seemed to think that offices 
 which they could not execute, like honours which they 
 had not earned,- should be entailed on them and their 
 descendants. 
 
 Cecil was never the advocate of compulsory or arbi- 
 trary measures. Open discussion, far from being 
 attended with danger, was, in his opinion, the most 
 effectual and innocent means of expending the fury of 
 faction : a forced silence seemed to him only to concentre 
 and aggravate popular resentment. In the courts where 
 he presided, he never gave a judgment without explain- 
 ing the grounds on which he proceeded t : in matters of 
 state, he refused to give his opinion, unless where he 
 might bring forward and debate the reasons on which it 
 was founded.;}; His influence was thus increased by all 
 the weight of reason, and he omitted no precaution to 
 give it the sanction of impartiality. The solicitations of 
 those who presumed most on his favour, from the ties of 
 kindred or familiar acquaintance, he received with such 
 coldness that they were carefully avoided by those who 
 knew him best, and never by any one repeated. If the 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 46. 55. f Ibid. p. 33. 
 
 . H Ibid. p. 68. 
 
 v 3
 
 326 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 cause of his friends was tried before him, he gave them 
 rigid justice ; if they sought preferment in the state, he 
 did not obstruct their claims of merit: but he would listen 
 to no application where partiality might blind his judg- 
 ment, or blemish his integrity.* 
 
 In that age, the eyes of mankind were more strongly 
 dazzled than at present by the splendour of rank ; and 
 a statesman was more likely to promote his views by 
 attentions to the great. Yet, with Burleigh, the poor 
 received equal measure with the wealthy, and had their 
 suits as patiently heard, and as speedily determined. 
 Each day in term, it was customary for him to receive 
 from fifty to sixty petitions, all of which he commonly 
 perused and weighed in the course of the evening or night, 
 and was prepared to return an answer next morning, on 
 his way to Westminster Hall. As soon as the peti- 
 tioner mentioned his name, Burleigh found no difficulty 
 in recollecting his business, and in delivering a reply. 
 When at length confined to his bed by age and infirmi- 
 ties, and no longer able to attend at the courts, he di- 
 rected that all petitions should be sent to him under 
 seal ; and as all were opened in the order in which they 
 arrived, and answers immediately dictated, the lowest 
 petitioner received his reply with the same despatch as 
 the highest, t 
 
 The early and complete intelligence which Burleigh 
 possessed with regard to secret transactions, both at 
 home and abroad, was spoken of with wonder by his 
 contemporaries, and enabled him to adopt the promptest 
 measures for counteracting all hostile attempts. At a pe- 
 riod when invasion from abroad, and conspiracy at home, 
 agitated by artful intriguers and desperate bigots, it 
 was no season to await, in careless slumber, the deve- 
 lopment of events : but while we admire the extent and 
 happy effects of his intelligence, we must hesitate to ap- 
 plaud the methods by which it was occasionally pro- 
 cured, and consider them as excusable only from the 
 necessity of his situation. Obliged to maintain a num- 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley. p. 58. . t Ibid. p. 22, 23.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 327 
 
 ber of spies, to reward informers, and to bribe accom- 
 plices to betray their associates, he might be condemned 
 for resorting to nefarious arts, had they not been indis- 
 pensable to the public safety, at a period when assas- 
 sinations were so common, and when the doctrines of 
 mental reservation, and of keeping no faith with here- 
 tics, were general tenets among the enemies of govern- 
 ment. 
 
 Burleigh, by adhering inflexibly to the rule of living 
 within his means, escaped those pecuniary embarrass- 
 ments which often beset his less considerate colleagues. 
 His income, considerable at an early age, became pro- 
 gressively increased by additional offices, and occasionally 
 by the mercantile adventures which in these days were 
 usual among men of rank arid fortune. It is a curious 
 fact, that he invested large sums in the purchase of lead, 
 for the purpose of re-sale.* Still he was exempt not 
 only from corruption, but from selfishness : for an ava- 
 ricious man would have made more by his offices in 
 seven years than he made in forty ; and the splendour 
 of his expenses was fully proportioned to his wealth and 
 station.t So far, indeed, did he carry his disinterest- 
 edness, as never to raise his rents nor displace his te- 
 nants. As the lands were let when he bought them, so 
 they still remained ; and some of his tenants continued 
 to enjoy for 2(V. a year what might have been leased 
 for 200/4 
 
 The magnificence of his mode of life is to be as- 
 cribed partly to policy, but more to the manners of the 
 age, which, as we have seen in the case of the modest 
 and unambitious More, made the expense of the great 
 consist chiefly in a number of retainers. Burleigh had 
 four places of residence, at each of which he maintained 
 an establishment, his family and suite amounting to 
 nearly a hundred persons. His domestic expenses at 
 his house in London were calculated at forty or fifty 
 pounds a week when he was present, and about thirty 
 
 * Letter from Gilbert Talbot to the Earl of Shrewsbury, in Lodge, vol. ii. 
 p. 211. 
 
 t Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 43. . t Ibid. p. 54, 55. 
 
 Y 4
 
 328 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 in his absence ; princely allowances, when we consider 
 the value of money at that period. His stables cost him 
 a thousand marks a year ; his servants were remarked for 
 the richness of their liveries. Retaining an appendage 
 of ancient magnificence, which had now been given up, 
 unless by a few noblemen of the first rank and fortune, 
 he kept a regular table, with a certain number of covers 
 for gentlemen, and two others for persons of inferior 
 condition. These, always open, were served alike 
 whether he was present or absent ; and, in correspond- 
 ence with this proud hospitality, he had around him 
 many young persons of distinction, who acted as his 
 retainers, and lived in his family. Promotion was not 
 yet attainable by open competition ; the house of a min- 
 ister was the grand preparatory school ; and Burleigh was 
 under Elizabeth what cardinal Morton had been under 
 Henry VII. Among the retainers of Burleigh, there could, 
 we are told, be reckoned, at one time, twenty young 
 gentlemen, each of whom possessed, or was likely to 
 possess, an income of 1 0001. ; and among his household 
 officers there were persons who had property to the 
 amount of 10,000/.* His houses were not large, but 
 his equipage and furniture were splendid ; his plate is 
 reported to have amounted to 14,000 pounds in weight, 
 and about 40,000^. in value. His public entertainments 
 corresponded with this magnificence. It was customary 
 for Elizabeth to receive sumptuous entertainments from 
 her principal nobility and ministers ; and, on these in- 
 stances of condescension, Burleigh omitted nothing 
 which could show his sense of the honour conferred on 
 him by his royal guest. Besides the short private visits 
 which she often paid him, he entertained her in a formal 
 manner twelve different times, with festivities which 
 lasted several weeks, and on each occasion cost him 
 two or three thousand pounds. His seat, at Theobalds,, 
 during her stay, exhibited a succession of plays, sports, 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 40. The writer of the treatise from 
 which these particulars are taken was himself one of lord Burghley's re- 
 tainers, and an eye-witness of all these circumstances.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 329 
 
 and splendid devices ; and here she received foreign 
 ambassadors, at the expense of her treasurer, in as royal 
 state as at any of her palaces.* This magnificence, 
 doubtless, acquired him a considerable ascendancy both 
 at court and among the people ; but it was attended 
 with much envy, and often brought him vexation. At 
 his death, he left, besides his plate and furniture, 
 11,000/. in money, and 4000/. a year in lands, of 
 which he had received only a small portion by inherit- 
 ance, t 
 
 We come next to the interesting topic of his conduct 
 towards Elizabeth, and the deportment of her majesty in 
 return. He was often heard to say, that he thought 
 there never was a woman so wise in all respects as Eliza- 
 beth ; that she knew the state of her own and foreign 
 countries better than all her counsellors ; that, in the 
 most difficult deliberations, she would surprise the wisest 
 by the superiority of her expedients. J His services, 
 both before and after her elevation to the throne, were 
 of the most important nature ; for, besides his great qua- 
 lities as a minister, his vigilance had repeatedly preserved 
 her life, while his fidelity had endangered his own. 
 
 These services were sincerely felt by Elizabeth : with 
 a magnanimity not always to be found among princes, 
 she freely acknowledged her obligations, and demonstrated 
 her gratitude by attentions which, from a sovereign, were 
 the most flattering of rewards. Interesting herself in his 
 domestic concerns, and entering into the joys and sorrows 
 of his family, we find her at one time standing sponsor 
 for one of his children, and at another hastening in per- 
 son to enquire for his daughter in a sudden illness. In 
 promoting the marriage of his son with a lady of rank and 
 fortune, she also took an active part, and visited the lady 
 in behalf of the suitor. Although extremely jealous of 
 her real authority, Elizabeth had too much sense as well 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 37 41. These protracted visits 
 of Elizabeth to her principal courtiers seem to have had in view eco- 
 nomy as well as popularity. She had no objection to honour her subjects 
 by her presence, and she accounted it fair that they should pay for this 
 honour. 
 . f Ibid. p. 44. J Ibid. p. 71.
 
 330 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 as policy to impede her service by unmeaning forms. 
 When the treasurer, in the latter part of his life, was 
 much afflicted with the gout, the queen always made him 
 sit down in her presence with some obliging expression, 
 " My lord," she would say, " we make use of you, not 
 for your bad legs, but for your good head." When the 
 severity of his illness rendered him unable to quit his 
 apartment, she repaired thither with her council to en- 
 joy the benefit of his advice, ; and when his disease as- 
 sumed a dangerous aspect, she appeared in person among 
 the anxious enquirers for his health.* 
 
 Her majesty was, however, far from being always so 
 accommodating ; and it often required no small degree 
 of patience to bear the effects of her violent passions and 
 unreasonable caprice. The manners of that age were 
 much less refined than those of the present ; yet, even 
 then, it appeared no ordinary breach of decorum in a 
 queen to load her attendants with the coarsest epithets, 
 or to vent her indignation in blows. The style of gal- 
 lantry with which she encouraged her courtiers to ap- 
 proach her, both cherished this overbearing temper, and 
 made her excesses be received rather as the ill-humour 
 of a mistress than the affronts of a sovereign. It was 
 customary for her statesmen and warriors to pretend not 
 only loyalty to her throne, but ardent attachment to her 
 person ; and in some of Raleigh's letters, we find her 
 addressed, at the age of sixty, with all the enthusiastic 
 rapture of a fond lover, t To feign a dangerous distemper 
 arising from the influence of her charms was deemed an 
 effectual passport to her favour ; and when she appeared 
 displeased, the forlorn courtier took to his bed in a pa- 
 roxysm of amorous despondency, and breathed out his 
 tender melancholy in sighs and protestations. We find 
 Leicester, and some other ministers, endeavouring to in- 
 troduce one Dyer to her favour ; and the means which 
 they employed was, to persuade her that a consumption, 
 from which the young man had with difficulty recovered, 
 
 Birch's Memoirs, vol. i. p. 294. 128. Lloyd's State Worthies, 
 f Cayley's Life of Raleigh, p. 127. 134. 4to. edit.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 331 
 
 was brought on by the despair with which she had in- 
 spired him.* Essex, having on one occasion fallen 
 under her displeasure, became exceedingly ill, and could 
 be restored to health only by her sending him some 
 broth, with kind wishes for his recovery. Raleigh, hear- 
 ing of these attentions to his political rival, got sick in 
 his turn, and received no benefit from any medicine till 
 the same sovereign remedy was applied. With courtiers 
 who submitted to act the part of sensitive admirers, Eli- 
 zabeth found herself under no restraint : she expected 
 from them the most unlimited compliance, and if they 
 proved refractory, she gave herself up to all the fury of 
 passion, and loaded them opprobrious epithets. 
 
 Burleigh, by uniformly approaching her with the dig- 
 nified demeanour of a grave and reserved counsellor, was 
 far less liable to such indignities. Yet even on him she 
 sometimes vented her chagrin ; and, in moments of sud- 
 den violence, seemed to forget his age, his character, and 
 his station. On one occasion, when, in opposition to her 
 wish, he persisted in a resolution to quit the court a few 
 days for the benefit of his health, she petulantly called 
 him a froward old foolt ; and when he ventured, as al- 
 ready has been mentioned, to maintain some claim of the 
 earl of Essex, which she had determined to disallow, she 
 wrathfully reproached him as a miscreant and a coward 
 who 'deserted her cause. ^ As he had generally to per- 
 form the disagreeable task of announcing to her any un- 
 toward accidents in the course of her affairs, he was 
 exposed to the first ebullitions of her chagrin ; and so 
 much, we are told, did the unprosperous event of her 
 plans for the tranquillisation of Ireland, in 1594, irritate 
 her mind, that she severely reproached her aged minister 
 even while he laboured under sickness. But it was not 
 only hasty bursts of passion that he had to dread : we 
 have seen that, on particular occasions, she chose to exe- 
 cute her designs under a veil of consummate hypocrisy ; 
 
 * Letter of Gilbert Talbot to the Earl of Shrewsbury, in Lodge, vol. ii. 
 p. 101. 
 
 f Birch's Memoirs of Queen Elizabeth, vol. i. p. 448. 
 j Ibid. vol. ii. p. 148. Ibid. voL i. p. 169.
 
 332 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 and made no scruple to shield herself from public re- 
 proach by affecting resentment against her ministers for 
 the very acts which had given her the highest gratifi- 
 cation. Fortunately for Burleigh, she found means to 
 satisfy appearances, without carrying her injustice to 
 him beyond some temporary indignities. 
 
 These mortifications were aggravated by the obsti- 
 nacy with which she occasionally opposed his designs. 
 While certain counsellors, from attractions of person and 
 manner, acquired at times an undue influence over her, 
 some of her passions and prejudices were too powerful 
 to be counteracted by his cool and rational suggestions ; 
 and it is alleged that she more than once rejected his 
 counsels, merely to prove to him that his ascendancy 
 over her was not absolute. 
 
 The even temper of Burleigh enabled him to suffer 
 many of these disgusts with apparent calmness ; yet at 
 times they exceeded his endurance. A very few years 
 after the accession of Elizabeth, we find him already 
 desiring to quit a station in which his toil and morti- 
 fication were so great.* As he advanced in life, his 
 increasing bodily infirmities, and some domestic misfor- 
 tunes which affected him very deeply, made such causes 
 of chagrin more poignant ; and he frequently solicited 
 the queen to accept of his resignation. But that prin- 
 cess, though too impetuous to refrain from giving offence, 
 could not endure to be deprived of the zeal, industry, 
 and wisdom on which she had so long relied with the 
 most prosperous issue ; and his resignation was a theme 
 to which she could never be brought to listen. Laying 
 aside the stateliness of the queen, she undertook to alter 
 his purpose and dispel his chagrin, by assuming the 
 playfulness of the woman. There still remain several 
 of her letters, in which she so artfully mingles strokes 
 of gratitude and attachment with raillery, that it is no 
 wonder the old statesman should have been moved by 
 these indications of warm interest from his sovereign, t 
 
 * Letter in Hardwicke's Miscellaneous State Papers, vol. i. p. 170. 
 f Strype's Annals, voL iv. p. 77.
 
 LORD BURL^IGH. 333 
 
 The private life of Burleigh may be discussed in a 
 short compass. Hurried along, from an early period of 
 life, amidst affairs too complicated not to require his 
 utmost industry, too important not to engage all his 
 attention, he had very little leisure for domestic enjoy- 
 ments. His hours of relaxation were few, seldom ex- 
 ceeding what was necessary for the refreshment of nature ; 
 and if he at any time indulged in a greater cessation 
 from his public labours, it was chiefly when his bodily 
 infirmities demanded such an intermission with a call 
 not to be refused. 
 
 The principal scene of his amusements was his seat 
 at Theobalds, near London, whither he fled with eager- 
 ness to enjoy the short intervals of leisure which he 
 could snatch from public affairs. In these days the 
 buildings had not extended so far ; the house was sur- 
 rounded with gardens, on which he had expended large 
 sums of money, which were laid out under his own 
 direction, with taste and magnificence. Here he was 
 often seen riding up and down the walks on his mule, 
 enjoying the progress of his improvements, or overlook- 
 ing those who amused themselves by shooting with 
 arrows or playing at bowls ; but he never joined in these 
 or any other diversions. The weakness of his constitu- 
 tion, and more especially the distempers of his feet and 
 legs, disqualified him for active sports, even if he had 
 been led to them by inclination : but his mind seems to 
 have been so thoroughly engrossed by important busi- 
 ness, that he had as little relish as leisure for amuse- 
 ments ; nor did he play at any of those games with 
 which the less busy endeavour to relieve the languor of 
 existence. * 
 
 His principal and favourite recreation was reading. 
 Books were to him what cards are to a great portion of 
 the world, his frequent and most valued resource. 
 They frequently interfered with the exercise necessary 
 to his health ; for when he got home to take a morning's 
 ride, if he found a book which pleased him, he willingly 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 61.
 
 334 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 postponed his excursion.* Nor was he insensible to 
 the pleasures of domestic society and exhilarating con- 
 versation. At his table, in the company of a few select 
 friends, or of his children and kinsmen, whom he always 
 loved to see around him, he appeared to throw all his 
 cares aside, and to yield himself up to unrestrained en- 
 joyment. Whatever fatigue or anxiety, in the course 
 of the day, his mind might have experienced from the 
 pressure of public affairs, every uneasy circumstance 
 seemed at these periods to be forgotten. His counte- 
 nance was cheerful, his conversation lively ; and those 
 who saw him only in these short intervals of relaxation 
 would have imagined that pleasure was the business of 
 his life. As the mildness of his demeanour towards all 
 ranks, in the intercourse of public life, procured him 
 many friends, the frankness and familiarity which he 
 displayed in his private circle gave a relish to his so- 
 ciety. His conversation often sparkled with wit and 
 gaiety, and his observations were generally not less 
 pleasant than shrewd. The topics discussed at his table 
 were various ; literary conversation was preferred, politics 
 were always avoided* t The magnificent style in which 
 he lived, the number of his attendants, and the concourse 
 of persons of distinction, seem, at first, adverse to the 
 freedom of his social entertainments. But Burleigh was 
 accustomed to live in a crowd ; and few of his visitors 
 were so exalted above him by rank that he could not 
 with grace relax himself in their presence. 
 
 A share in conversation was the chief pleasure which 
 he enjoyed at table; for he was distinguished for temper- 
 ance in an age when that virtue was not common. He 
 ate sparingly, partook of few dishes, never drank above 
 thrice at a meal, and very seldom of wine. Although the 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 63, 6J-. It is curious to hear the 
 peevishness with which learning is often cried down, even by those who 
 derive fiom it the principal pleasures of their life. Though Burleigh found 
 nearly all his recreation in books, in a letter to the earl of Shrewsbury, he 
 wishes that nobleman's son " all the good education that may be mete to 
 teach him to fear God, love his natural father, and to know his friends, 
 without any curiosity of human learning, which, without the fear of God, 
 doth great hurt to all youth in this time and age." Lodge, vol. ii. p. 133. 
 
 t Ibid. p. 62, 63.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 335 
 
 dinner hour in that, age was not later than twelve or one 
 o'clock, it was not uncommon with him to refrain from 
 supper.* The gout, with which he was grievously tor- 
 mented in the latter part of his life, probably contributed 
 to render him more cautiously abstemious : if his tem- 
 perance failed to banish this uneasy guest, he never at 
 least encouraged its stay by rich wines and strong spices.t 
 
 Nor was the private life of Burleigh destitute of nobler 
 virtues. At a period when the poor had so few resources 
 for their industry, and when many willing to work were 
 reduced to want, a portion of his ample fortune was be- 
 nevolently appropriated to their necessities. His certain 
 and regular alms amounted to 500/. a year, besides 
 farther and large disbursements on extraordinary oc- 
 casions. Part was employed, under proper superintend- 
 ence, in affording relief to poor prisoners, or in releasing 
 honest debtors; the rest was confided to the management 
 of certain parishes for the use of their most destitute in- 
 habitants. From the low state of husbandry at that period, 
 and the very limited intercourse between nations, one 
 bad season was sufficient to subject a kingdom to the 
 miseries of famine ; corn, in certain districts, was sold 
 at the most exorbitant prices, and rendered as inaccessible 
 to the poorer classes as if none had existed in the country. 
 In such times of scarcity, then of frequent occurrence, 
 and attended with consequences revolting to humanity, 
 it was usual for Burleigh to buy up large quantities of 
 corn, which he sold at low prices to the poor in the 
 neighbourhood of his different seats ; and by this well- 
 judged assistance, relieved their necessities without re- 
 laxing their industry. J 
 
 The mind of Burleigh appears to have been strongly 
 tinctured with piety. Placed amidst dangers which his 
 utmost vigilance could not always avoid, and from which 
 he often escaped by unexpected accidents, his views were 
 naturally extended to that Power on whose will depended 
 the duration of his life. His faith had been endeared to 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 62, 63. 
 
 t NugtB Antiqua?, vol. ii. p. 82. 
 
 t Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 38. 42.
 
 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 him by persecution ; his piety was exalted by the sacrifice 
 of his interest to religion. Regular in his attendance on 
 public worship, and in the performance of his private 
 devotions, he strove, both by example and influence, to 
 inspire his family and connections with religious senti- 
 ments. During the greatest pressure of business, it was 
 his custom, morning and evening, to attend prayers at 
 the queen's chapel. When his increasing infirmities 
 rendered him no longer able to go abroad, he caused a 
 cushion to be laid by his bedside, and on his knees per- 
 formed his devotions at the same regular hours. Unable 
 at length to kneel, or to endure the fatigue of reading, he 
 caused the prayers to be read aloud to him as he lay on 
 his bed.* " I will trust," he said, " no man if he be 
 not of sound religion ; for he that is false to God can 
 never be true to man."t The strictness of his morals 
 was in correspondence with his piety, and both had a 
 powerful effect in confirming his fortitude in times of 
 peril. At the awful period when Philip was preparing 
 his armada, and when the utter destruction of the English 
 government was confidently expected abroad, and greatly 
 dreaded at home, Burleigh was uniformly collected and 
 resolute ; and when the mighty preparations of the 
 Spaniards were spoken of in his presence with appre- 
 hension, he replied with firmness, " They shall do no 
 more than God will suffer them.";}: 
 > In his intercourse with his family and dependants, 
 this grave statesman was kind and condescending. In 
 his leisure moments he delighted in sporting with his 
 children, forbearing, however, such indications of intem- 
 perate fondness as might have rendered them regardless 
 of his authority, and ready to give the rein to their 
 caprices. In his old age no scene so much delighted 
 him as to have his children, grandchildren, and great- 
 grandchildren, collected around his table, and testifying 
 their happiness by their good-humour and cheerfulness. $ 
 While his eldest son passed into the rank of hereditary 
 
 Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 56. f Ibid. p. 68. 
 
 t Ibid. p. 30. , Ibid. p. 60, 61
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 33? 
 
 nobility, it was to his second son, Robert, that Burleigh 
 turned an anxious eye as the heir of his talents and influ- 
 ence. Nor were his pains fruitlessly bestowed*: Robert 
 displayed abilities worthy of his father; and after rising, 
 during his lifetime, to considerable trusts and employ- 
 ments in the state, succeeded him, under James I., as prime 
 minister, under the title of earl of Salisbury. The care 
 with which Burleigh watched over the interests of this 
 son appears from a series of prudential advices arranged 
 in ten divisions, which he drew up for his use.-f- 
 
 For the improvement of his children, as well as for 
 his own domestic happiness, Burleigh was chiefly in- 
 debted to his wife, the daughter of sir Anthony Cook, a 
 lady highly distinguished for her mental accomplish- 
 ments. The plan of female education, which the example 
 of sir Thomas More had rendered popular, continued to 
 be pursued among the superior classes of the community. 
 The learned languages, which, in the earlier part of 
 Elizabeth's reign, still contained every thing elegant in 
 literature, formed an indispensable branch of a fashion- 
 able education ; and many young ladies of rank could 
 not only translate the authors of Greece and Rome, but 
 even compose in Greek and Latin with considerable ele- 
 gance. Sir Anthony Cook, a man eminent for his literary 
 acquirements, and on that account appointed tutor to 
 Edward VI., bestowed the most careful education on 
 his five daughters ; and all of them rewarded his exer- 
 tions, by becoming not only proficients in literature, but 
 distinguished for their excellent demeanour as mothers 
 of families. Lady Burleigh was adorned with every 
 quality which could excite love and esteem ; and many 
 instances are recorded of her piety and beneficence. She 
 had accompanied her husband through all the vicissitudes 
 of his fortunes ; and an affectionate union of forty-three 
 years rendered the loss of her the severest calamity of 
 his life. The despondency caused to him by this irre- 
 
 * Bacon's Works, voL i. p. 376. 
 
 f- This tract has been transmitted to posterity ; and as it affords so many 
 characteristic traits of its author, it is inserted, for the information and en- 
 tertainment of the reader, in the Appendix.
 
 338 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 parable calamity produced a desire to renounce public 
 business, so irksome in that state of his feelings, and to 
 devote the remainder of his life to retirement and medi- 
 tation. But Elizabeth was too sensible of the vast 
 importance of his counsels. She peremptorily rejected 
 the resignation which he tendered, yet softened her re- 
 fusal with those arts which she knew so well to employ. 
 But though Burleigh continued to apply himself with 
 undiminished vigour to public business, his happiness 
 had sustained a loss which nothing could repair. In his 
 wife he had been deprived of a companion whose society 
 long habit had rendered essential to his enjoyment ; 
 while the increasing severity of the gout, with other in- 
 firmities of age, aggravated the distress of his mind by 
 the pains of his body. By no trait had he hitherto been 
 more remarkable than by the unruffled calmness of his 
 temper. The serenity of his countenance seemed to 
 indicate a tranquillity so confirmed as to be incapable of 
 interruption ; and an eye-witness informs us that, for 
 thirty years together, he was seldom seen moved with 
 joy in prosperity, or with sorrow in adversity.* But in 
 the latter years of his life this consummate self-command 
 began to forsake him. Business became more irksome as 
 strength decreased, and the success with which his anta- 
 gonists thwarted his pacific counsels gave him infinite 
 pain, as they seemed likely to undo all the national ad- 
 vantages which it had been the labour of his life to pro- 
 cure. His temper now became so unfortunately altered, 
 that he, who had been so eminent for coolness, sometimes 
 gave way to passion, in opposition to every dictate of 
 discretion, t In a conversation with M. Fouquerolles, an 
 envoy from Henry IV., something which occurred so 
 transported him with passion, that he broke out into the 
 most vehement invectives against that monarch. His 
 intercourse with his servants, which had been uniformly 
 placid and cheerful, was now frequently interrupted by 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghley, p. 4/5. 
 
 f Birch's Memoirs, vol. i p. 165. J Ibid. vol. ii. p. 328.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 339 
 
 sudden bursts of peevishness : but, on such occasions, he 
 immediately recollected himself; appeared sensible of 
 the injustice of injuring those who could not retaliate ; 
 and endeavoured, by assuming a peculiar complacency in 
 his words and looks, or by studiously devising some acts 
 of kindness, to make reparation for the pain which he 
 had unadvisedly caused. * 
 
 Various indications of declining health now began to 
 assail the aged statesman. Still he continued assiduous 
 at his post, and laboured to rescue his countrymen from 
 those delusive hopes of military glory and plunder, in 
 pursuit of which they threatened to exhaust all their 
 solid resources. The last public measure which he ac- 
 complished was the conclusion of an advantageous treaty 
 with Holland : and he closed his long and useful labours 
 in the council with an earnest but ineffectual effort to 
 persuade them to negotiate with Spain. He died on 
 the 4th of August, 1598, in the seventy-eighth year of 
 his age, having held the station of prime minister of 
 England for the long period of forty years, and assisted 
 in the conduct of public affairs for upwards of half a 
 century. His death-bed was surrounded by friends 
 whom he esteemed, by children for whose future wel- 
 fare he had provided, by servants devoted to him from 
 a long interchange of good offices ; and he expired with 
 the utmost serenity and composure.f 
 
 The death of Burleigh was a cause of general sorrow. 
 Elizabeth deeply lamented the loss of a minister in 
 whose exertions she had found security and success 
 during her whole reign : and the clouds which overhung 
 die close of her career must often have renewed her 
 regret for the want of her wise and faithful counsellor. 
 A minister who opposes the multitude in the pursuit of 
 an object on which their heated imaginations have fixed, 
 is sure, at the moment, to be exposed to reproach. 
 Such was the situation of Burleigh at the period of his 
 death. In the face of popular clamour, he continued 
 
 * Life of William Lord Burghloy, p. 49. f Ibid p. 6a 
 
 Z 2
 
 340 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 to deprecate a war which was no longer necessary for 
 the public safety, and which wasted the wealth of the 
 nation to gratify the pride or avarice of individuals. 
 The earl of Essex, who still stood at the head of his 
 antagonists, was the idol of the people ; and they fondly 
 contrasted the high spirit, the love of glory, the cou- 
 rageous sentiments of this young nobleman with what 
 they termed the cold, cautious, illiberal policy of the 
 aged Burleigh. Yet his death caused more regret than 
 satisfaction, even among the unthinking multitude. They 
 felt themselves deprived of a guardian, under whose 
 vigilant protection they had long reposed and prospered ; 
 and there remained no statesman of equal experience to 
 guide their affairs, at a time when the decay of Eliza- 
 beth, and a disputed succession, threatened the nation 
 with many calamities. The lapse of time has long since 
 removed those circumstances which elevated the hopes 
 and inflamed the passions of his contemporaries ; the 
 merits of Burleigh have been more justly estimated ; 
 and prosperity seems to concur in recognising him as 
 the wisest minister of England.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 341 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 THE LIFE OF LORD BURLEIGH. 
 
 THE EARL OF SUSSEX TO SIR WILLIAM CECIL. 
 
 " Good Mr. Secretary, 
 
 " UPON your request and promise, made in your letter of the 
 16th, I will write to you what by any means I conceive in 
 this great matter; although the greatness of the cause, in 
 respect of the person whose it is, the inconstancy and subtle- 
 ness of the people with whom we deal, and the little account 
 made always of my simple judgment, give me good occasion of 
 silence. And, therefore, (unless it be to the queen's majesty, 
 from whom I would not wish any thought of my heart to be 
 hidden,) I look for a performance of your promise. 
 
 " The matter must at length take end, either by finding the 
 Scottish queen guilty of the crimes that are objected against her, 
 or by some manner of composition with a show of saving her ho- 
 nour. The first, I think, will hardly be attempted, for two causes. 
 The one, for that if her adverse party accuse her of the murder, 
 by producing of her letters, she will deny them, and accuse the 
 most of them of manifest consent to the murder, hardly to be 
 denied ; so as, upon the trial on both sides, her proofs will 
 judicially fall best out, it is thought. The other, for that their 
 young king is of tender and weak years, and state of body ; 
 and if God should call him, and their queen were judicially 
 defaced and dishonoured, and her son, in respect of her wicked- 
 
 * This letter was written a few months after Mary's confinement in Eng- 
 land ; and the writer was, at the time, employed as one of the commis. 
 sioners at York, to investigate the charges against her. 
 
 z 3
 
 342 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 ness, admitted to the crown, Hamilton upon his death should 
 succeed ; which, as Murray's faction utterly detest, so, after her 
 public defamation, they dare not, to avoid Hamilton, receive 
 her again, for fear of revenge. And therefore, to avoid these 
 great perils, they surely intend, so far as I can by any means 
 discover, to labour a composition, wherein Lyddington was a 
 dealer here, hath, by means, dealt with the Scottish queen, and 
 will also, I think, deal there. And to that end I believe you 
 shall shortly hear of Melvil there, who, I think, is the instru- 
 ment between Murray, Lyddington, and their queen, to work 
 this composition ; whereunto I think surely both parties do 
 incline, although diversely affected for private respects. 
 
 " The earl of Murray and his faction work that their queen 
 would now willingly surrender to her son, after the example of 
 Navarre ; and procure the confirming of the regency in Mur- 
 ray ; and therewith admit Hamilton and his faction to place of 
 council, according to their states ; and to remain in England 
 herself, with her dowry of France : whereunto, I think, they 
 would add a portion out of Scotland. And if she would 
 agree to this, I think they would not only forbear to touch 
 her in honour, but also deliver to her all matters that they 
 have to charge her, and denounce her clear by parlia- 
 ment, and therewith put her in hope, not only to receive 
 her again to her royal estate if her son die, but also, upon 
 some proof of the forgetting of her displeasure, to procure in 
 short time that she may be restored in her son's life, and he 
 to give place to her for life : and if she will not surrender, it 
 is thought Murray will allow of her restitution and abode in 
 England, so as he may continue regent. The Hamiltons seek 
 that the young king's authority should be disannulled ; the hurts 
 done on either side recompensed ; and the queen restored to her 
 crown, and to remain in Scotland. And yet, in respect of her 
 misgovernment, they are contented that she should be governed 
 by a council of the nobility of that realm, to be appointed 
 here ; in which council there should be no superior in authority 
 or place appointed, but that every nobleman should hold his 
 place according to his state ; and that the queen's majesty 
 should compose all differences from time to time amongst them. 
 And to avoid all difference and peril, their queen should have
 
 LORD BUBLEIGH. 343 
 
 certain houses of no force ; and a portion to maintain her 
 estate : and the castles of Edinburgh, Stirling, and Dunbar, 
 and other principal forts of the realm, to be delivered into the 
 hands of upright noblemen, that leaned to no faction, to be 
 sworn to hold them in sort to be prescribed ; and that the whole 
 nobility of Scotland should swear amity, and should testify the 
 same under their hands and seals : and that the queen's ma- 
 jesty should take assurance for performance; and have the 
 bringing up of the young prince in England, by nobility of Eng- 
 land or Scotland, at her appointment. And, so as this might take 
 effect, I think they might easily be induced to consent their queen 
 should also remain in England, and have her dowry out of 
 France and a portion out of Scotland, to maintain her state and 
 her son's, in places to be appointed by the queen's majesty. 
 
 " Thus do you see how these two factions, for their private 
 causes, toss between them the crown and public affairs of Scot- 
 land, and how near they be to agree if their private causes were 
 not, and care neither for the mother nor the child (as I think, 
 before God,) but to serve their own turns. Neither will Mur- 
 ray like of any order whereby lie should not be regent styled ; 
 nor Hamilton of any order whereby he should not be as great, 
 or greater in government than Murray. So as the government 
 is presently the matter, whatsoever they say was heretofore the 
 cause ; and, therefore, it will be good we forget not our part 
 in this tragedy. 
 
 " The opinion for the title to the crown, after the death of 
 their queen and her son, is diversely carried, as the parties be 
 affected to these two factions. The Hamiltons affirm the duke 
 of Chatelherault to be the next heir by the laws. The other 
 faction say that the young king, by his coronation and mo- 
 ther's surrender, is rightfully invested of the crown of Scotland ; 
 whereby his next heir in blood is, by the laws, next heir also to 
 the crown ; and thereby the duke avoided. The fear of this 
 decree maketh Hamilton to withstand the king's title, for the 
 surety of his own, and the regency of Murray, in respect of his 
 claim to be governor, as next heir to the crown; for which 
 causes it is likely Hamilton will hardly yield to the one or the 
 other. And yet James Macgill, an assured man to Morton, 
 talks with me secretly of this matter ; and, defending the right 
 z 4
 
 344 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 of the earl of Lennox's son, as next heir in blood to the young 
 king, confessed to me that he thought, because it came by the 
 mother, it must return by the mother's side, which was Hamil- 
 ton : but it would put many men on horseback before it were 
 performed, whereby you may see what leadeth in Scotland. 
 There is some secret envy between Lyddington and Macgill ; 
 and, as I think, if they agree not by the way, you shall find 
 Lyddington wholly bent to composition, and Macgill, of him- 
 self, otherwise inclined. If the queen's majesty would assure 
 their defence, you may deal with them as you see cause. 
 
 " Thus far of that I have gathered by them ; wherein, if 
 they do not alter, I am sure I do not err. And now, touching 
 my opinion of the matter, (not by way of advice, but as im- 
 parting to you what I conceive,) I think surely no end can be 
 made good for England except the person of the Scottish queen 
 be detained, by one means or other, in England. Of the two 
 ends before written, I think to be best in all respects for the 
 queen's majesty, if Murray will produce such matter as that the 
 queen's majesty may, by virtue of her superiority over Scotland, 
 find judicially the Scottish queen guilty of the murder of her 
 husband, and therewith detain her in England, at the charges 
 of Scotland, and allow of the crowning of the young king, and 
 regency of Murray. Whereunto if Hamilton will submit 
 himself, it were well done, for avoiding of his dependency upon 
 France to receive him, with provision for indemnity of his title ; 
 and if he will not, then to assist Murray to prosecute him and 
 his adherents by confiscation, &c. If this will not fall out 
 sufficiently (as I doubt it will not), to determine judicially, if 
 she deny her letters ; then surely I think it best to proceed by 
 composition, without show of any meaning to proceed to trial. 
 And herein, as it shall be the surest way for the queen's ma- 
 jesty to procure the Scottish queen to surrender, &c., if that 
 may be brought to pass ; so, if she will by no means be in- 
 duced to surrender, and will not end except she may be in some 
 degree restored, then I think it fit to consider therein these 
 matters following : 
 
 " First, to provide for her and her son, to remain in Eng- 
 land, at the charges of Scotland.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 345 
 
 " Secondly, to maintain in strength and authority Murray's 
 faction as much as may be, so as they oppress not unjustly 
 Hamilton. 
 
 " Thirdly, to compose the causes between Murray and Ha- 
 milton, and their adherents, and to provide for Hamilton's 
 indemnity in the matter of the title, to avoid his dependency 
 upon France. 
 
 " Fourthly, that the queen's majesty order all differences 
 that shall arise in Scotland ; and, to that end, have security on 
 both sides. 
 
 " Fifthly, if Hamilton will wilfully dissent from order, it is 
 better to assist Murray in the prosecuting of Hamilton by con- 
 fiscation, although he flee therefore to France, than to put Mur- 
 ray any ways in peril of weakening. 
 
 " And lastly, to foresee that these Scots on both sides pack 
 not together, so as to unwrap (under colour of this composi- 
 tion) their mistress out of all present slander, purge her openly, 
 show themselves satisfied with her abode here, and, within short 
 time after, either by reconcilement or the death of this child, 
 join together to demand of the queen the delivery home of their 
 queen to govern her own realm, she also making the like re- 
 quest ; and then the queen, having no just cause to detain her, 
 be bound in honour to restore her unto her realm, and format- 
 ters that in this time shall pass, have her a mortal enemy for 
 ever after. And thus, ceasing to trouble you any farther, I 
 wish to you as to myself. 
 
 " Yours, most assured, 
 
 " T. SUSSEX. 
 " From York, the XXII. October, 1568." 
 
 SECRETARY CECIL S DELIBERATION CONCERNING SCOT- 
 LAND, DECEMBKR SlST, 1568. 
 
 " The best way for England, but not the easiest, that the queen 
 of Scots might remain deprived of her crown, and the state 
 continue as it is.
 
 346 
 
 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 " The second way for England profitable, and not so hard : 
 That the queen of Scots might be induced, by some persuasions, 
 to agree that her son might continue king, because he is 
 crowned, and herself to also remain queen ; and that the go- 
 vernment of the realm might be committed to such persons as 
 the queen of England should name, so as, for the nomination 
 of them, it might be ordered that a convenient number of per- 
 sons of Scotland should be first named to the queen of Eng- 
 land, indifferently for the queen of Scots and for her son ; that 
 is to say, the one half by the queen of Scots, and the other by 
 the earl of Lennox and lady Lemon, parents to the child ; and 
 out of those, the queen's majesty of England to make choice 
 for all the offices of the realm that are, by the laws of Scotland, 
 disposable by the king or queen of the land. 
 
 " That until this may be done by the queen's majesty, the go- 
 vernment remain in the hands of the earl of Murray, as it is, 
 providing lie shall not dispose of any offices or perpetuals to 
 continue any longer than to these offered of the premises. 
 
 " That a parliament be summoned in Scotland by several 
 commandments, both of the queen of Scots and of the young 
 king. 
 
 " That hostages be delivered unto England, on the young 
 king's behalf, to the number of twelve persons of the earl of 
 Murray's party, as the queen of Scots shall name ; and like- 
 wise on the queen's behalf, to the like number, as the earl of 
 Murray shall name ; the same not to be any that have, by in- 
 heritance or office, cause to be in this parliament, to remain 
 from the beginning of the summoiis of that parliament until 
 three months after that parliament ; which hostages shall be 
 pledges that the friends of either part shall keep the peace in 
 all cases, till by this parliament it be concluded, that the or- 
 dinance which the queen of England shall devise for the go- 
 vernment of the realm (being not to the hurt of the crown of 
 Scotland, nor contrary to the laws of Scotland for any man's 
 inheritance, as the same was before the parliament at Edin- 
 burgh, in December, 1567,) shall be established, to be kept and 
 obeyed under pain of high treason for the breakers thereof. 
 
 " That by the same parliament also be established all execu-
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 347 
 
 tions and judgments given against any person to the death of 
 the late king. 
 
 " That by the same parliament a remission be made univer- 
 sally from the queen of Scots to any her contraries, and also 
 from every one subject to another, saving that restitution be 
 made of lands and houses, and all other things heritable, that 
 have been, by either side, taken from them which were the 
 owners thereof at the committing of the queen of Scots to Loch- 
 leven. 
 
 " That by the same parliament it be declared who shall be 
 successors to the crown next after the queen of Scots and her 
 issue ; or else that such right as the duke of Chatelherault had, 
 at the marriage of the queen of Scots with the lord Darnley, 
 may be conserved and not prejudiced. 
 
 " That the queen of Scots may have leave of the queen's 
 majesty of England twelve months after the said parliament, 
 and that she shall not depart out of England without special 
 licence of the queen's majesty. 
 
 " That the young king shall be nourished and brought up 
 in England, till he be years of age. 
 
 " It is to be considered that, in this case, the composition 
 between the queen and her subjects may be made with certain 
 articles, outwardly to be seen to the world, for her honour, as 
 though all the parts should come of her, and yet, for the surety 
 of contraries, that certain betwixt her and the queen's majesty 
 are to be included." 
 
 LORD BURLEIGH S ADVICES TO HIS SON, ROBERT CECIL. 
 
 " Son Robert, 
 
 " THE virtuous inclinations of thy matchless mother, by 
 whose tender and godly care thy infancy was governed, to- 
 gether with thy education under so zealous and excellent a tutor, 
 puts me in rather assurance than hope that thou art not igno-
 
 348 BBJTISH STATESMEN. 
 
 rant of that summum bonum which is only able to make thee 
 happy as well in thy death as in thy life ; . I mean, the true 
 knowledge and worship of thy Creator and Redeemer ; without 
 which all other things are vain and miserable. So that thy 
 youth being guided by so sufficient a teacher, I make no doubt 
 that he will furnish thy life with divine and moral documents. 
 Yet, that I may not cast off the care beseeming a p'arent to- 
 wards his child, or that thou shouldest have cause to derive thy 
 whole felicity and welfare rather from others than from whence 
 thou receivedst thy breath and being, I think it fit and agree- 
 able to the affection I bare thee, to help thee with such rules 
 and advertisements for the squaring of thy life as are rather 
 gained by experience than by much reading. To the end that, 
 entering into this exorbitant age, thou mayest be the better 
 prepared to shun those scandalous courses whereunto the world, 
 and the lack of experience, may easily draw thee. And because 
 I will not confound thy memory, I have reduced them into 
 ten precepts ; and, next unto Moses' Tables, if thou imprint 
 them in thy mind, thou shall reap the benefit, and I the con- 
 tent. And they are these following : 
 
 I. When it shall please God to bring thee to man's estate, 
 use great providence and circumspection in choosing thy wife ; 
 for from thence will spring all thy future good or evil. And 
 it is an action of thy life like unto a stratagem of war, wherein 
 a man can err but once. If thy estate be good, match near 
 home and at leisure ; if weak, far off and quickly. Enquire 
 diligently of her disposition, and how her parents have been 
 inclined in their youth. Let her not be poor, how generous * 
 soever ; for a man can buy nothing in the market with gentility. 
 Nor choose a base and uncomely creature altogether for wealth ; 
 for it will cause contempt in others and loathing in thee. 
 Neither make choice of a dwarf or a fool ; for by the one thou 
 shalt beget a race of pigmies; the other will be thy continual 
 disgrace ; and it will yirke f thee to hear her talk. For thou 
 shalt find it to thy great grief, that there is nothing more ful- 
 some \ than a she-fool. 
 
 And touching the guiding of thy house, let thy hospitality 
 
 * i. e. Well-born. f **!* J .& Disgusting.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 349 
 
 be moderate, and, according to the means of thy estate, rather 
 plentiful than sparing, but not costly ; for I never knew any 
 man grow poor by keeping an orderly table. But some con- 
 sume themselves through secret vices, and -their hospitality bears 
 the blame. But banish swinish drunkards out of thine house, 
 which is a vice impairing health, consuming much, and makes 
 no show. I never heard praise ascribed to the drunkard but 
 the well-bearing his drink, which is a better commendation for 
 a brewer's horse or a drayman than for either a gentleman or 
 a serving-man. Beware thou spend not above three of four 
 parts of thy revenues, nor above a third part of that in thy 
 house ; for the other two parts will do no more than defray thy 
 extraordinaries, which always surmount the ordinary by much : 
 otherwise thou shall live, like a rich beggar, in continual want. 
 And the needy man can never live happily nor contentedly ; 
 for every disaster makes him ready to mortgage or sell. And 
 that gentleman who sells an acre of land sells an ounce of 
 credit ; for gentility is nothing else but ancient riches. So that, 
 if the foundation shall at any time sink, the building must 
 needs follow. So much for the first precept. 
 
 II. Bring thy children up in learning and obedience, yet 
 without outward austerity. Praise them openly, reprehend 
 them secretly. Give them good countenance, and convenient 
 maintenance, according to thy ability ; otherwise thy life will 
 seem their bondage, and what portion thou shall leave them at 
 thy death they will thank death for it, and not thee. And I 
 am persuaded thai the foolish cockering * of some parents, and 
 the over-stern carriage of others, causeth more men and women 
 to take ill courses than their own vicious inclinations. Marry 
 thy daughters in time, lest they marry themselves. And suffer 
 not thy sons to pass the Alps ; for they shall learn nothing there 
 but pride, blasphemy, and atheism. f And if by travel they get 
 a few broken languages, that shall profit them nothing more 
 than to have one meat served in divers dishes. Neither, by my 
 consent, shall ihou train them up in wars : for he that sets up 
 
 * i.e. Over-indulgence. 
 
 t This strong caution against travelling seems like a presage of the future 
 evils it was to produce to his own family. His grandson William, the second 
 earl of Exeter, and his great-grandson lord Roos, were both, when at Rome, 
 made proselytes to the popish religion.
 
 350 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 his rest to live by that profession can hardly be an honest man 
 or a good Christian. Besides, it is a science no longer in re- 
 quest than use. For soldiers in peace are like chimneys in 
 summer. 
 
 III. Live not in the country without corn and cattle about 
 thee : for he that putteth his hand to the purse for every ex- 
 pense of household, is like him that keepeth water in a sieve. 
 And what provision thou shall want, learn to buy it at the best 
 hand : for there is one penny saved in four betwixt buying 
 in thy need and when the markets and seasons serve fittest for 
 it. Be not served with kinsmen, or friends, or men intreated 
 to stay ; for they expect much, and do little : nor with such as 
 are amorous, for their heads are intoxicated. And keep rather 
 two too few, than one too many. Feed them well, and pay 
 them with the most ; and then thou mayest boldly require ser- 
 vice at their hands. 
 
 IV. Let thy kindred and allies be welcome to thy house and 
 table. Grace them with thy countenance, and farther them in 
 all honest actions ; for, by this means, thou shall so double the 
 band of nature, as thou shall find Ihem so many advocates to 
 plead an apology for thee behind thy back. But shake offlhose 
 glow-worms, I mean parasiles and sycophants, who will feed 
 and fawn upon thee in the summer of prosperity ; but, in an 
 adverse storm, they will shelter thee no more than an arbour in 
 winter. 
 
 V. Beware of suretyship for thy best friends. He that 
 payeth another man's debt seeketh his own decay. But if thou 
 canst not otherwise choose, rather lend thy money thyself upon 
 good bonds, although thou borrow it. So shall thou secure 
 thyself, and pleasure thy friend. Neither borrow money of a 
 neighbour or a friend, but of a stranger ; where, paying for it, 
 thou shall hear no more of il. Otherwise thou shall eclipse Ihy 
 credil, lose thy freedom, and yet pay as dear as to another. But 
 in borrowing of money be precious of thy word ; for he that 
 hath care of keeping days of payment is lord of another man's 
 purse. 
 
 VI. Undertake no suit against a poor man with receiving * 
 much wrong ; for, besides that thou makest him thy compeer, 
 
 * i. e. Though you receive.
 
 LORD BURLEIGH. 351 
 
 it is a base conquest to triumph where there is small resistance. 
 Neither attempt law against any man before thou be fully re- 
 solved that thou hast right on thy side ; and then spare not for 
 either money or pains : for a cause or two so followed and ob- 
 tained will free thee from suits a great part of thy life. 
 
 VII. Be sure to keep some great man thy friend, but trouble 
 him not for trifles. Compliment him often with many, yet 
 small gifts, and of little charge. And if thou hast cause to be- 
 stow any great gratuity, let it be something which may be daily 
 in sight : otherwise, in this ambitious age, thou shall remain 
 like a hop without a pole ; live in obscurity, and be made a 
 foot-ball for every insulting companion to spurn at. 
 
 VIII. Towards thy superiors be humble, yet generous.* 
 With thine equals familiar, yet respective. Towards thine in- 
 feriors show much humanity, and some familiarity : as to bow 
 the body, stretch forth the hand, and to uncover the head ; 
 with such like popular compliments. The first prepares thy 
 way to advancement, the second makes thee known for a man 
 well bred, the third gains a good report ; which, once got, is 
 easily kept. For right humanity takes such deep root in the 
 minds of the multitude, as they are more easily gained by un- 
 profitable curtesies than by churlish benefits. Yet I advise thee 
 not to affect, or neglect, popularity too much. Seek not to be 
 Essex: shun to be Ilaleigh.f 
 
 IX. Trust not any man with thy life, credit, or estate. For 
 it is mere folly for a man to enthral himself to his friend, as 
 though, occasion being offered, he should not dare to become 
 an enemy. 
 
 X. Be not scurrilous in conversation, nor satirical in thy 
 jests. The one will make thee unwelcome to all company ; the 
 other pull on quarrels, and get the hatred of thy best friends. 
 For suspicious jests, when any of them savour of truth, leave a 
 bitterness in the minds of those which are touched. And, albeit 
 I have already pointed at this inclusively, yet I think it neces- 
 sary to leave it to thee as a special caution ; because I have seen 
 
 * i. e. Not mean. 
 
 t Essex was the idol of the people; his rival, Raleigh, their aversion, till 
 hisjundeserved misfortunes attracted their compassion, and his heroism 
 heir applause.
 
 352 BRITISH STATESMEN. 
 
 many so prone to quip and gird *, as they would rather lose 
 their friend than their jest. And if perchance their boiling 
 brain yield a quaint scoff, they will travel to be delivered of it 
 as a woman with child. These nimble fancies are but the froth 
 of wit. " 
 
 * Mock and jibe. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
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