START LAB DAILY Filmed & Processed by the | Library Photographic Service University of California Berkeley 94720 Ei LH ra 25 22 20 18 16 I I I I 28 32 36 Il I co le |.4 ell Hse 2 MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART NATIONAL BUREAU OF STANDARDS-1963-A 125 pee ee —————— Sr——— (LLLP LTE LULU ITLL 1 riff 3 pmb de tT itm DOCUMENT SOURCE: MEIN LIBRARY | p—— THE MASTER NEGATIVE,FROM WHICH THIS REPRODUCTION WAS MADE, IS STORED UNDER THE SUPERVISION OF THE LIBRARY PHOTOGRAPHIC SERVICE, ROOM 20, MAIN LIBRARY, UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA 9 4 7 2 O FOR ADDITIONAL REPRODUCTION REQUEST MASTER NEGATIVE NUMBER ~~ NX | AUTHOR: Flower, Ben jamin 5 § t ‘ 9 ® TITLE: The century of Sir Thomas More... PLACE: Boston DATE: 1396 VOLUME CALL Sct MASTER NO. Fb B NEG. NO. AUTHOR: Flower, Benjamin TITLE: The century of Sir Thomas More... PLACE: Boston pate: 1896 | MICROFILMED 1982 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PHOTODUPLICATION SERVICE sUHE CENTURY OF SIR THOMAS MORE. * BY B. O FLOWER AUTHOR OF “GERALD MASSEY,” “CIVILIZATION’S INFERNO,” “ THE NEW NR RR 1 A ti TIME,” “ PERSONS, PLACES AND IDEAS,” ETC. ILLUSTRATED WITH : NUMEROUS PORTRAITS :, The Renaissance was the liberation of the reason from a dungeon, the double discovery of the outer and the inner world —John Addington Symonds SIR THOMAS MORE. THE ARENA PUBLISHING CO., BOSTON, MASS. MDCCCXCVI PTI pene COPYRIGHTED, 1895, BY B. O. FLOWER. Al Rights Reserved. ARENA PRESS. THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED TO MY FATHER AND MOTHER, Alfred and Glizabeth Orange Flower, TO WHOSE UNVARYING LOVE, SELF-SACRIFICE AND INTELLIGENT DISCERNMENT OF THE NEEDS OF A CHILD'S BRAIN DURING THE FORMATIVE PERIOD OF LIFE, I OWE MORE THAN I CAN ESTIMATE OF WHATEVER I HAVE BEEN ABLE TO ACCOMPLISH FOR GOOD. « «There are many things in the Commonwealth of No- where that I rather wish than hope to see embodied in our own.’ It was with these words of characteristic irony that More closed the first work which embodied the dreams of the New Learning. Destined as they were to fulfilment in the course of ages, its schemes of social, religious and po- litical reform broke in fact helplessly against the temper of the time. At the moment when More was pleading the cause of justice between rich and poor, social discontent was being fanned by new exactions and sterner laws into a fiercer flame. While he was advocating toleration and Christian comprehension, Christendom stood on the verg: of a religious strife which was to rend it forever in pieces.” —JouN RICHARD GREEN, M.A. in ‘ History of the English People.” INTRODUCTORY NOTE. Tag life and times of Sir Thomas More must ever hold special interest for students of social progress. For, aside from the 1n- spiration which high-born souls have de- rived from ¢ Utopia,” the life of the great Englishman is very full of impressive lessons, and the epoch in which he lived is rich mn significant hints and warning for our time. It was a period of transition, when civiliza- tion passed with pain and anguish from an outgrown order to a freer state; and the battle which was waged during that century is, to a great extent, being fought by us at the present time. We, to-day, are in the midst of a struggle much the same as that which marked the century of More; the same velvet-tongued sophistry 1s heard now from scholarly special pleaders for the old 11 a. I EO I Ho cma ———————_ a iv INTRODUCTORY NOTE. order as was heard in that elder time. For gold, fame and the praise of the powerful the prophets of conventionalism are actively endeavoring to lull to sleep the newly awak- But the struggle has gone too far; the forces of the ened conscience of civilization. new time are too numerous and too powerful to be beaten back. A new social order is mevitable. The century of More 1s so replete with suggestive lessons for thoughtful people of our day that a brief glance at civilization in the throes of the new birth will be helpful to us, apart from the interest which clusters around the names and the achievements of one of the most wonderful epochs in the history of civilization. TABLE OF CONTENTS, INTRODUCTORY NOTE I. WESTERN EUROPE DURING THE CENTURY OF WHICH WE WRITE : —1450-1550. A period of general awakening and unprecedented prog- ress—The moral, spiritual, and scientific awakening north of the Alps—The golden age of art in Italy—The era of discoveriesand conquests which mark this period in the annals of the Spanish Peninsula—The marvellous effect of the revival of Greek learning on Western Europe—Germany gives the world the printing press and the Copernican Theory—Columbus discovers the New World—Sir Thomas More delivers a prophet’'s message on social progress—A pen picture of Erasmus II. THE REFORMATION AND SOME OF ITS LEADING SPIRITS. The Reformation—Causes which wrought a positive change in the convictions of devout men and women—A pen picture of Savonarola—Martin Luther the head and front of the Reformation—His early life—Visit to Rome—Re- turn to his fatherland—He boldly denounces the sale of indulgences to commit crime and is cited before the Car- dinal Legate—Germany is electrified by his bold utter- ances—Leo X. issues a bull condemning Luther which the reformer promptly burns—He appears before the Diet of Worms—John Calvin—His strength and weakness— Zwingli, Knox, Melancthon—A word about the leaders of the Protestant Reformation III. A GENERAL SURVEY OF THE ITALIAN PENINSULA DURING THE RENAISSANCE. The centuries preceding the Italian Renaissance—The fall of Constantinople—Venice — Florence — Milan—How these republics were overthrown by the fiction of birth, the cunning of wealth, and the sword of force—The seculari « zation of the Roman Church during this period — The v co a — Be Sor my WE TABLE OF CONTENTS. menace of a union of Church and State—Emilio Castelar comments on the Church of this period—The bewildering TABLE OF CONTENTS. vil failed to lead in any direction—John Calvin and Rabelais the two great intellects of the France of this century— spectacle of beauty and shame, of gayety and tragedy, 18] A pen picture of Rabelais—Victor Hugo's characteriza- which characterized the Italian Peninsula—The inade- tion of the great satirist quacy of the educational system of the past—The new educational ideals of our time and their promise VIIL Tae ENGLAND OF SiR THOMAS MORE. i England at the close of the Wars of the Roses—The union of IV. Some FATAL FIGURES OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. EN the throne and the privileged classes against the land- The Medicean Family—Professor Vallari's suggestive obser- less and moneyless masses—Green’s graphic summary vations—How liberty was lost—Lorenzo de’ Medici—The of the social and intellectual conditions at this time— patron of art—The ruler of Florence—The slave of his Great interest taken in astrology and occult research— own passions—The Borgian family — Machiavelli—The Vi Character of Henry VIL—England enters upon a career man and his writings—Observations on the * Prince *’ of ih of material and commercial greatness—The encroach- Machiavelli—The “ Utopia" of Sir Thomas More 70 ments of the crown—The Star Chamber of Henry VIL.— William Caxton and his great work for English Literature __Difficulties under which the scholar printer labored— The influence of the New Learning in England—Henry VIII's liberal patronage of art and letters—Tyndale’s Bible—More's vivid description of the misery occasioned by the injustice of social conditions—The rise and fall of Cardinal Wolsey — The pharisaism and worldliness of conventional religion—More’s observations on this sub- ject—Colet establishes St.Paul’s Latin-Grammar School and lays the foundation for popular and humane educa- i and shadows of this century in England. 154 V. Some BRIGHT LIGHTS OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. Michael Angelo—A character sketch of the Jupiter of Art's Olympus—The influence of Savonarola’s sermons and Dante's poems on Angelots work—The austere and co- losse1 character of his ideals—His deeply religious char- acter—A pen picture of Leonardo Da Vinci, the most versatile of the great geniuses of this period—Correggio, the Christian painter who was “unconsciously a heathen” —His great work—Raphael Sanzio, the most illustrious of painters—A child of the dawn—Comparison between END PART "Pie TNOTAL BHU HIVCHTUURG: GY UXTALLLE, Va Vat Mv amis = aexegenae _ The artistic enthusiasm of Italy and something of the VIII. More's Utopia—The encouragement the apostles spirit of the Spanish Peninsula permeated the France of ih of the New Learning received from Henry VIII.—More this day, though while reflecting all in a measure she writes Utopia—More and Machiavelli contrasted—Eras- TABLE OF CONTENTS. menace of a union of Church and State—Emilio Castelar comments on the Church of this period—The bewildering spectacle of beauty and shame, of gayety and tragedy, which characterized the Italian Peninsula—The inade- quacy of the educational system of the past—The new educational ideals of our time and their promise 42 1V. SoME FATAL FIGURES OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. The Medicean Family—Professor Vallari’s suggestive obser- vations—How liberty was lost—Lorenzo de’ Medici—The patron of art—The ruler of Florence—The slave of his own passions—The Borgian family — Machiavelli—The man and his writings—Observations on the * Prince” of Machiavelli—The * Utopia of Sir Thomas More 70 V. SoME BRIGHT LIGHTS OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. Michael Angelo—A character sketch of the Jupiter of Art's Olympus—The influence of Savonarola’'s sermons and Dante's poems on Angelots work—The austere and co- lossal character of his ideals—His deeply religious char- acter—A pen picture of Leonardo Da Vinci, the most versatile of the great geniuses of this period—Correggio, the Christian painter who was “unconsciously a heathen” — His great work—Raphael Sanzio, the most illustrious of painters—A child of the dawn—Comparison between Angelo and Raphael—The wonderful power of the youth- ful artist only equalled by his untiring industry—His early death—A brief characterization of the man and his work VI. THE SPANISH PENINSULA DURING THE CENTURY OF SIR THOMAS MORE. The awakening on the physical side of life—The greed for gold and blind and fanatical religious persecution—The fall of Granada and the reéstablishment of the Inquisi- tion—Appalling picture of the tragic fate of the Jewsand others who came under the ban—Columbus discovers the New World—Cortez conquers Mexico—Magellan’s {leet circumnavigates the earth—The colossal figure of Albuquerque and his pathetic end—General observations on the Spanish Peninsula of this century TaE FRANCE OF THIS PERIOD. The moral and intellectual awakening of the German People __The artistic enthusiasm of Italy and something of the spirit of the Spanish Peninsula permeated the France of this day, though while reflecting all in a measure she TABLE OF CONTENTS. vil failed tolead in any direction—John Calvin and Rabelais the two great intellects of the France of this century— A pen picture of Rabelais—Victor Hugo's characteriza- tion of the great satirist.........coovviiiniennnes «sev 146 VIII. TE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. England at the close of the Wars of the Roses—The union of the throne and the privileged classes against ‘the land- less and moneyless masses—Green’s graphic summary of the social and intellectual conditions at this time— Great interest taken in astrology and occult research— Character of Henry VIL.—England enters upon a career of material and commercial greatness—The encroach- ments of the crown—The Star Chamber of Henry VIL.— William Caxton and his great work for English Literature _ Difficulties under which the scholar printer labored— The influence of the New Learning in England—Henry VIII's liberal patronage of art and letters—Tyndale’s Bible—More's vivid description of the misery occasioned by the injustice of social conditions—The rise and fall of Cardinal Wolsey — The pharisaism and worldliness of conventional religion—More’s observations on this sub- ject—Colet establishes St. Paul’s Latin-Grammar School and lays the foundation for popular and humane educa- tion—Lights and shadows of this century in England. 154 IX. THE LiFe oF Sik THOMAS MORE. Men of imagination and genius in times of intellectual and moral transition — Their power and their peril — Sir Thomas More : a man who received divine ideals, and who was also powerfully influenced by men of positive convic- tions who held ideals opposite to those he had enunciated —_The difficulty prosaic historians have in appreciating men of the character of More—General social conditions which environed the great English philosopher—The in- tellectual atmosphere of the time—Change written over every doorway of research—Youth and school-life of More—Colet founds St.Paul’s Latin School—More’s love divided between the new and the old order—The youth- ful philosopher contemplates becoming a monk, but changes his mind and marries — He enters Parliament and defeats the demands of Henry VII.—More’s retire- ment to private life—Early years of the reign of Henry VIII.—-More's Utopia—The encouragement the apostles of the New Learning received from Henry VIII.—More writes Utopia—More and Machiavelli contrasted—Eras- HE, Se CE viii TABLE OF CONTENTS. mus’ description of More—His achievements at Henry's court—The storm of religious revolt reaches England— Henry and the Papal See—More foresees the coming storm—He grows more and more conservative as the cleavage between the new and old thought becomes more pronounced—Persecutions while More was Lord Chancel- lor—Resigns his position—Refuses to take the oath under the Supremacy Act—Is arrested and executed — His family life—Estimate of the TM. vsevnin sensi sraini ons 182 X. TrE Utopia oF Sir THOMAS MORE—PART I. The prophetic insight which enabled Sir Thomas More to discern the trend of social progress and true civilization — Professor Drummond's elucidation of the same idea along scientific lines—Egoism and Altruism the keynote of the struggle of the ages—The age in which More wrote and the purpose he had in view necessarily resulted in limitations in * Utopia,” which we readily realize from our modern vantage ground—The spirit of the work was altruistic and in alignment with true civilization and en- during progress—An Utopian commonwealth in the New World—Its excellence and its flaws—A pen picture of ancient Peruvian government — Great reforms fore- shadowed by the prophet soul of Sir Thomas More—TUni- versal education—Industrial training—Treatment of the sick—Six hours’ labor a day—The aversion of the Uto- pians to war—Their conduct in case of war—The noble words of Charles Sumner againsbwar,............... R11 XI. THE UtoPIA oF Sir THOMAS MoreE—Parr II. Religious toleration in Utopia—Sir Thomas More's luminous characterization of the Father of Light and Love in his portrayal of the religious ideal of God held by the wisest, of the Utopians—King Utopus’ broad and enlightened view of religion: a luminous conception which con- trasted boldly with the popular Christian spirit of the age of More—The sad failure of the great philosopher when the hour of testing came to realize his lofty ideal when the divine within him was uninfluenced and undis- mayed by baser influences—The limitations of More even when on the mountain top. as revealed in a flash of in- tolerance out of keeping with the religious theory of the Utopians—the belief of the Utopians that the dead were ever with them — The religion of the Utopians a religion of deeds rather than creeds — Belief in immortality—Humane treatment of criminals — Treat- TABLE OF CONTENTS. ix ment of women—Liberal divorce views of Sir Thomas More—Social and economic conditions in Utopia—The strength and weakness in More's social views as illus- trated in his work—Powerful assault on gold madness and its disastrous effect on individual happiness and social progress—Some striking comparisons which are homely and suggestive—Sir Thomas More's * Utopia ™ a prophet voice calling man to reason and justice and to the consideration of higher ideals—Maurice Adams’ characterization of the work and his prophecy of the coming day......... CESESERREA A 234 XII. HISTORICAL PARALLELS PRESENTED BY THE LIVES oF SENECA AND SIR THOMAS MORE. Sir Thomas More and the Roman philosopher Seneca—Each entered the arena of life in a time of civilization-wide revolution — During Seneca's life Christianity rose to such commanding proportions as to alarm convention- alism and paganism and led to the most savage persecu- tions—Like the century of More, the age of Seneca was pre€minently an age of change—The influence of Chris- tianity upon paganism in the philosopher's day com- pared with the influence exerted by the New Learning and the Reformation during the time of Sir Thomas More—The fathers of Seneca and More both desired their sons to become advocates and later to enter political life--Seneca’s passion for the lofty teachings of Stoicism-- The strong religious bent of Sir Thomas More's mind and his early enthusiasm for the New Learning—The philoso- phersin youth offend their sovereigns—Later each basks in royal favor only to come to tragic ends by the hands which had raised them to political eminence—The blot on the escutcheons of Seneca and More—The writings of these philosophers compared—General observations on CHEIP HVRE, ooo isi to rcs eine rr eee 04 XIII. A SURVEY OF THE FIRST CENTURY OF MODERN TIMES. The fall of Constantinople and the dawn of the first century of modern times—The political revolutions of this period —The downfall of feudalistic anarchy and the reé&stab- lishment of centralized power—What this change meant to the people and to civilization—The revolution in Art in Italy—The New Learning and the Reformation north of the Alps, or the revolution in religion—The march of science and progress as seen in such works as Coperni- cus accomplished ; the invention of the printing press, at — —— " TT mr ti Ad —— X TABLE OF CONTENTS. and the establishment of humane, liberal educational 3 institutions—The revolution in commerce wrought by the discovery of the New World and the passage to India by Portugal — Leading factors and dominant ideals Rc 5 or gma dma er CD Al RE whi is fivefold revolution—The kinship of RR soni pi es The I. WESTERN EUROPE DURING THE Golden Age of Greece and the Renaissance compared— CENTURY OF WHI CH WE WRITE. A survey of the transition period in which we are living —The century of Sir Thomas More and our time com- PATE. + vvirnivrrtanirnsssnrasrsssanssnnrsasnsrrensve 201 1450-1550: A period of general awakening and unprecedented progress—The moral, spiritual and scientific awakening north of the Alps—The golden age of art in Italy—The era of discoveries and conquests which mark this period in the annals of the Spanish Peninsula—The marvellous effect of the revival of Greek learning on Western Europe—Germany gives the | world the Printing Press and the Copernican Theory—Colum- * ” a mat etetrnin Se, bus discovers the New World—Sir Thomas Mere: delivers a prophet’s message on social progress—A pen pigture of Yras- mus. BY '? * . 3 Be." 99 Ne ? 3 - : 22 IF the reader will draw an arch ex- tending from A.D. 1450 to a. np. 1550, he will have span- ned a century in many respects the most remarkable in the annals of Euro- pean civilization. It was an epoch of un- rest and growth, of dazzling surprises and momentous A A cs A NOS AEN es, — nis pn . GUTENBERG. (1) achievements. It was an era of exit and ERE 1 i aT Err 2 WESTERN EUROPE DURING THE entrance, witnessing at once the eventide of the Middle Ages and the dawning of mod- ern times ; a century in which the glory of former ages seemed to flood the receptive vision of chosen spirits, revealing at once the beauty of the past and unveiling new heights of attainment and nobler ideals than the pre- ceding ages had conceived. This century roadened and deepened the ethical and spiritual impulses of the German and -Anglo- Saxon peoples; it crowned Italy with 1m- mortal glory in the realm of art; it gave to Spain the sceptre of Western domain ; it brought forth Colet, Erasmus, Sir Thomas More, Savonarola, Luther, Calvin, Zwingl, Knox and Melancthon ; it was the age of Angelo, Titian, Correggio, Da Vinei and Raphael. During this period Columbus gave to Europe a new world, and Copernicus re- vealed a new heaven. And what is of special interest to the student of contemporaneous events, the spirit of this century seems to be present to-day, some of the parallels being pe- culiarly striking. Indeed, in many respects, it seems as if the budding blooms of the earlier era were destined to flower in our time. CENTURY OF WHICH WE WRITE. 3 A few years before the century of which we write dawned, Gutenberg had invented movable type, and by 1455 books were being published. With the advent of the printing press came the possibility of which we now dream—universal education. But for the century of More it merely meant that books would no longer be inaccessible to all save the very wealthy. Many weary generations were destined to pass before the masses, even in civilized lands, would enjoy the advan- tages of education. The advent of print- ing, however, was a noteworthy landmark in the history of civilization, and doubt- less made the Reformation possible, while it lent wings to progress and general educa- tion. Another thing which exerted a civilization- wide influence in broadening the thought of man and lifting him to a higher intellectual altitude, was the promulgation of the dis- coveries of Copernicus, published in 1543. The great astronomer had arrived at his con- clusions years before his work appeared ; but not desiring the martyr’s death, which the religion of that age too frequently reserved ENTE ding \ \ 4 WESTERN EUROPE DURING THE for those who thought great thoughts, he delayed its publication. Copernicus had gathered the golden truths dropped by Py- thagoras and other sages who had made the heavens a profound study in earlier ages. He had added to them the rich results which crowned his own researches, and thus, in time, completed what is known as the Coper- nican theory. We, to-day, can understand in a measure the significance of this broader vision of the universe, which to the conception of the masses of the sixteenth century was an 1m- pious contradiction of the expressed state- ments of the word of God. The same bitter opposition which played around the thought- ful and serene head of Charles Darwin when he announced the theory of evolu- tion, assailed those who held the Copernican theory. But, fortunately for Copernicus, he died onthe day on which his book was pub- lished. We are indebted to the German thought of this epoch for two of the most potent mo- tors of our civilization—the invention of the printing press, and the Copernican theory ; Ee CENTURY OF WHICH WE WRITE. 5 and, unlike the wonderful religious awaken- ing of the period, their beneficent influence was ever free from the blighting spirit of fanaticism, bigotry and persecution, which so often darkened the history of the Refor- mation. Still another influence, destined to operate more powerfully upon that age than either the printing press or the Copernican theory, was known as the “new learning,” which, north of the Alps, appealed to the ethical and spiritual impulses of the best thinkers, and silently but effectively undermined the ol order. Many agencies had been quietly at work preparing Europe for the new time ; but it was not until a wave of thought from a vanished civilization—not until the magic of Grecian philosophy, art and song—swept over the brow of Western Europe, that her children awoke, and we entered that period known as “modern times.” The story 1s told of a beautiful maiden who lived in the far-away childhood days of earth, so rich in myth, legend and lore. This maiden was as fair as Venus, as wise as 6 WESTERN EUROPE DURING THE Athene, and virtuous above all the BuliE dinous goddesses of mythology. Her smi : radiated health and carried the sunlight of joy; her laughter dissipated gloom “h voiced the music of the spheres ; she was at once loved by all and an inspiration to all. At length, however, an evil genius cast over her a baleful spell; she fell into a trance, from which neither the entreaty of love nor the sobbing of grief could rouse her. The oracle was consulted. He declared that 4 music lay the remedy, that the vibrations o a certain chord would unlock the closed door of the senses and awaken or woo back the spirit. Now it chanced that Orpheus Poe that way, and the whole city besought him to call the sleeper back to them. He Go sented, and at the sound of his heavenly music the maiden stirred, the breath grew deeper, a faint blush deepened mto a crimson glow upon the cheek, the ashen lips Beguine vermilion, the leaden lids lifted. The 2 : time glory and light peered from eyes w ich had been glazed, and at length her V os caught up the strains of music, giving t em a new sweetness and a deeper meaning CENTURY OF WHICH WE WRITE. 7 than even the musician had hitherto con- cerved. In much the same manner the soul of Western Europe seemed enthralled until she was stirred by the wealth of Grecian thought. Plato spoke to philosophers, and Homer to those of poetic imagination. Moreover, the New Testament, read in the original, seemed to glow with new life. There was a vitality in the thought and language of this mother of European arts and letters which quickened the spirit of the century. It isa curious but oft-noted fact, that the same thing may awaken entirely different sentiments in different individuals, and this fact is equally true of nations and eciviliza- tions. Thus that which may. arouse the artistic or esthetic side of one people may appeal to the ethical and religious sentiments of races more sturdy, younger, and not yet so enervated by wealth and luxury as their older neighbors; while still a third people may perceive the same new thought, but in- stead of its appealing to the @sthetic, intellect- ual or spiritual impulses, it quickens in them 8 WESTERN EUROPE DURING THE a desire for wealth which will permit ihe gratifying of the physical nature and ihe satisfaction of worldly ambition. Now far general awakening of this century produced exactly these phenomena; a triangle, as t were, in which the same thought waves wi influences called into activity widely differ oat sentiments and emotions. Thus north of the Alps, especially among the Crom oa English people, it appealed almost ube : ethical, religious, and deeply philosop ies sentiments. All for spiritual and sclertpt c truth, or the eternal verities of the oe became the watchword. along this line f the triangle. South of the Alps, art, or g 13 msthetic sentiment, predominated. All pe beauty was the keynote of Italian then i : and in Florence and Rome painting, scu b- ture and architecture blossomed as never before. To the westward the awakening was more on the physical plane ; the mind of man was dominated by greed for gold. Riches—the wealth of the Indies—this - the magnet which furnished the money for Columbus and which nerved the Portu- guese to weather the Cape of Good Hope; ~» CENTURY OF WHICH WE WRITE. 9 discovery for possession and conquest, for the power and gratification which gold could yield. Wealth !-—ah, that meant splendid homes, magnificent villas, the grati- fication of passions and appetites, the mas- tery of man, and, through this, further license. When, mm 1453, Constantinople fell, the Greek scholars from the Bosphorus fled to Italy. In Florence they found a welcome home. To a civilization hungry for some- thing more than husks, the Grecian philoso- phy, poetry and art opened a new world of in- tellectual wealth, which possessed an irresist- ible attraction for starving souls. A revival mn art and letters followed, and for a time Western Europe drew new life and inspira- tion from the wealth cof forgotten Grecian thought, and the beautiful, though to a cer- tain extent sensuous, ideals of the mother of Western art. Tourists from north of the Alps, visiting Italy, carried back to their native lands wonderful stories of a redis- covered civilization. © Florence became the Mecca of intellectual pilgrims. The blend- ing of sturdy morality and lofty aspiration 10 WESTERN EUROPE DURING THE which characterized the noblest of the West- ern minds with the wonderful ideality and sibtle philosophy of Greece, formed a pure and exalted spirituality which sought to marry all the glory and refinement of the past to the highest hopes and.noblest con- ceptions of the present. In England among those who caught the contagion of the bour were William Grocyn, Dr. Thomas Linacre and John Colet. They journeyed across the Alps and absorbed the spirit of Greece at her best. Oxford soon became a centre of the ¢ New Learning” in England. Grocyn’s lectures created great enthusiasm ; Linacre aroused among his countrymen a love for medical research, and later became the leading spirit among the founders as well as the president of the first college of physicians of London ; while John Colet, a man of a profoundly religious nature, returned from Florence with brain aflame with lofty enthusiasm. He longed to make education general and to purify the church. He became Dean of St. Paul's and founded and endowed the St. Paul’s Latin- Grammar School in England, thereby plant- 7% ana ESE CENTURY OF WHICH WE WRITE. 11 ing the seed of that glorious system of edu- cation which has silently grown in popular- ity and comprehensiveness, until on the soil of our great republic it has blossomed into our public-school system of education. The blossom of Colet Grammar School is to-d the bulwark of democracy. ii But this was not all. The enthusiasm ue Oxford by the “New Learning ” infected scores of young ilo foundation for hol ig ” a has literature. Among the ” Sami | erature. youths who caught | this vivifying spirit were Sir Thomas More and the young German Erasmus. Lincs Hy had returned from Florence imbued with a passion for science along medical lines and Colet had been fired with the es) of a purer church and an educated people. Ox- ford in turn aroused the loftiest ethical sents ments in More, leading him up the very Alps of spirituality, and calling from his pain “ Utopia” ; while that strange, erratic ut wonderful man, Erasmus, haunted be the new ideal, wandered from land to land, revealing to others the golden vision he had perceived. 12 WESTERN EUROPE DURING THE Erasmus ! We must pause a moment be- fore this man, whose fair complexion, blue eyes and almost golden hair the canvas of Hol bein has rendered familiar to the hurrying gaze of passing genera: tions for three hundred years; for he embodied in a notable de- gree the union of the sturdy re- BastnTs ligious fervor of the Western mind with the high Hols il lofty thought which came with ns 2s edge of Greek. His was one of t Jd e ceptive souls which when touched by r " become luminous. He stood for what mig ! be termed the spiritual blossom of this Bie . lectual revival. But neither the pty ot erary and artistic, nor yet the pubes side of Greek thought, appealed so keenly ; his inner self as the Greek New Testament, CENTURY OF WHICH WE WRITE. 13 for his was essentially a religious nature. An enancipated mankind and a purified and unified church—such was his dream, as it was the ideal of scores of other thinkers who came under the strange and seemingly almost mystic spell of this time of rebirth. Erasmus was a highly refined and sensitive nature ; his innate love of all that was pure and beautiful was second only to his insati- able thirst for knowledge. Being placed early in a convent, he came to loathe the coarse and illiterate monks who were his constant companions. At length fortune favored him; the Bishop of Cambray suc- ceeded in procuring a papal dispensation for Erasmus, and employed him as his secretary. Later, he went to Paris and entered the uni- versity there. During that period he wrote much, and also taught a number of aspiring youths. From France he went to England, where he was able to attend Oxford, the Western centre of the “New Learning.” Here he formed lifelong friendships with some of the chosen spirits of his age, and though most of his life was spent In wandering from land to land, the ties knit EMSA KI Sa LUO pai te ess uen Tn u 0 TE ————————— —————— 14 WESTERN EUROPE DURING THE in England were of inestimable value to him. Erasmus had an extremely delicate con- stitution and a highly sensitive nervous organism. He was by nature open and frank ; but being an intellectual sensitive, his brain at times took color from its mental environment, and this led to the charge of fickleness, and even hypocrisy, when, in fact, he was as incapable of dissimulation as of coarseness. He fought the corruption of the church, and brought all the power of his pen to bear against the superstition of his age and the excesses of the priesthood. The monks hated him for his terrible satire, di- rected against their ignorance, superstition and excesses. Feclesiasticism felt in a vague way that within her walls stood a knight of truth who, in assailing iniquity, was also loosening her foundations ; while the con- ventional religionists openly declared that « Erasmus laid the egg of the Reformation and Luther hatched it And yet, while sharing many views 1n common with Luther, and while steadfastly refusing to exhibit the extreme spirit of CENTURY OF WHICH WE WRITE. 15 fanatical bigotry, either for or against Rome, he nevertheless shrank from the crude and coarse literature which emanated from the strongholds of the Reformation ; and still more did his soul recoil from the blind fana- ticism which so frequently possessed the leaders of the movement and expressed itself in utter contempt for literature and art. “1 abhor the Evangelics,” he wrote, “ because it is through them that literature 1s every- where declining.” Of Erasmus, Drummond well says: “He was in his own age the apostle of common sense and rational re- ligion. He did not care for dogma; from the beginning of his life to the end he re- mained true to the purpose of his life, which was to fight the battle of sound learning and plain common sense against the power of ignorance and superstition.” Erasmus was essentially a «free lance” among the theologians of his day. Indeed, he has been termed the Voltaire of the Renaissance. In writing of him one of the most eminent thinkers among the divines of England observes that “The principle that reason was the only guide of life, the superior 16 WESTERN EUROPE DURING THE article of all questions—political and religious included—has its earliest and most complete example In Erasmus.” * The fact that this great man of letters re- fused to become a partisan in the bitter war raging between Rome and the Reformation naturally provoked the charge of cowardice ; which, however, was clearly unjust, for the reason that a craven soul, or one who placed ambition above conviction, would have sided with Rome, as such a course would have se- cured for him wealth, glory and preferment from the opulent Roman hierarchy ; or, if his convictions had swayed him strongly toward reformation, he might easily have become the great literary head of the new movement. He chose the only course which a high-minded man of his bent could choose. Moreover, the charge of cowardice sinks before the daring words of censure hurled at kings and potentates. On one occasion he declared that “The industry of the citi- sens creates wealth for the rapacious lords to plunder.” Again he exclaims, with the * Rev. Mark Pattison, rector of Lincoln College, Oxford, in Encyclopaedia Britannica, Vol. VIIL, p. 516. CENTURY OF WHICH WE WRITE. 17 irony peculiar to his writings : © Kings who are scarcely men are called divine; they are #¢invincible, though they fly from every battlefield ; serene,” though they turn the world upside down in a storm of war; ‘illustrious,’ though they grovel in igno- cance of all that is noble. Of all birds, the eagle alone has seemed to wise men the type of royalty—a bird neither beautiful, musical nor good for food, but murderous, greedy, hateful to all, the curse of all; with its great power for doing harm only sur- passed by its great desire to do it.” I have dwelt somewhat at length upon Erasmus because he represents in so large a way the spirit of the “New Learning” as exhibited at Oxford, where the artistic and literary phases which so charmed Florence sank before the spiritual fervor which the new movement kindled north of the Alps. Moreover, he represented one of the great moral forces which rose in this century. Erasmus and the Oxford schoolstood for the enlightenment of the people, a purified an unified church, and the cultivation and ex: tension of literature and art. RS man, —————— a ——— A — ————— ‘ ET —————— REFORMATION AND ITS LEADING SPIRITS. 19 upon the world. It was a profound protest of sincere Christians against the corruption 2 : v Is 4 which was practised under the cloak of re- IL—THE REFORMATION AND SOME OF ¥ yA) praciise at ol re ITS LEADING SPIRITS. ligion—a great moral upheaval which in its The Reformation—Causes which wrought a positive change in the initial stage was merely a remonstrance within convictions of devout men and women—A pen picture of Sa- . 3 o » vonarola—Martin Luther, the head and front of the Reforma- ; the chu ch, w ith no thoug ht on the part of tion—His early life—Visit to Rome—Return to his father- its leaders of a separation from Rome. The land—He boldly denounces the sale of indulgences to commit . . crime and is cited before the Cardinal Legate—Germany is church, however, was 1m no mood to be dic- electrified by his bold utterances—Leo X. issues a bull con- demning Luther which the reformer promptly burns—He tated to, even though the cry was for a purer appears before the Diet of Worms-—John Calvin—His strength 3 10°} . ray AVvVOT - and weakness—Zwingli, Knox, Melancthon—A word about religion, and she vainly endeay ored to Sup the leaders of the Protestant Reformation. press what was at first a revolt, but which ended in becoming a revolution of civiliza- tion-wide proportion—a movement which changed the thought of nations and altered the convictions of millions of sincere, truth- loving men and women. Many and complex were the influences which made the Reformation inevitable; the primary cause was the corruption of the church, but the printing press had given wings to thought and the influence of the new learning had broadened the horizon of the best thinkers. The New Testament in the original Greek had been devoured by , SavosagoLa. : the most nen scholars who had hitherto been accustomed orable in the anil of civilization, burst J to study and discuss the works of comments: ——————————— Oc. WH SS —————— t WuiLE the “New Learn- ing ”’ was nflu- encing such men as Sir Thomas More and Erasmus, an ethical and religious revo- lution destined to make this period one of 20 TIHHE REFORMATION AND SOME tors chiefly concerned with the writings and opinions of the church fathers. The New Testament in its original tongue proved a new inspiration to the college youths of this age, while its translation into German by Luther and into English by Tyndale gave a new impetus to religious thought and specua- lation among the less scholarly. Political contentions also in various ways favored this great protest, and what Erasmus had unconsciously accomplished among the German people, Rabelais had in a different manner and with more daring wrought in France. In England the apprehension felt by patriotic Britons lest Henry VIIL. should die without male issue, and a hated Scot as- cend the throne, led many prelates and states- men to favor a divorce, while the death of the king’s sons confirmed the superstitious n the belief that the curse of God rested on Henry’s union with Catherine of Aragon. The hesitation of the Papal See to decide as to the right of Henry to put away Catherme and marry again convinced many devout anc thoughtful men that policy rather than eth cal or religious scruples prevented Rome fro OF ITS LEADING SPIRITS. 21 taking a positive stand on this 1mportant question. These were some of the positive influences which op- : erated upon public opinion north of the Alps. . They were tributaries to a deep flowing current of unrest which ran through the brain of the age. Luther and Melanc- thon in Germany, Calvin 1 France, LUTHER IN YOUTH. Zwingli in Switzerland, Cranmer in Eng- land, and Knox in Scotland merely touched the tinder of the universal discontent in their various lands. The Reformation demonstrated the essen- tial heroism which dwells in the soul of man, whether he be peasant, priest or noble. It held before the mind’s eye of those who hungered for a higher life and an exemplifi- cation of religion purer than was to be found in the conventionalism of the day, an exalted though austere ideal which awak- tree —— re ———————— A LE Ee tA a en ————— ne AA———— — i ——————————— nag ———————————————— (Nl Ri happiness, comfort or even life, 22 THE REFORMATION AND SOME ened a deep response, causing men, women and children to sink all thoughts of present rather than jeld what they believed to be the eternal truth. It illustrated anew the wonderful power which an idea or conviction may ex- ert in transforming human lives. As though a trumpet-blast had called them to come up higher from a plane of sordid selfishness a condition of sodden hope- and license, or Jessness, a multitude of high-born souls 1n various European lands became living ex- amples of a purer conception of religion. To the student of human nature nothing 18 more instructive than the constantly recur- ring illustration of the transforming power of ideas or ideals which appeal strongly to the imagination, and the Reformation fur- nishes a striking lustration of this truth, which when appreciated by civilization will render a redeemed humanity an assured fact instead of a persistent but elusive dream. The spirit of the Reformation was uncon: alded by the Jtalian priest, pro- sciously her Savonarola. His was phet and statesman, OF ITS LEADING SPIRITS. 23 essentially the spirit of Luther, Zwingli, and Melancthon.* He was a man entirel - sessed by what he con- Tr ceived to be the divine truth, and from his ad- vent in Florence until he entered the torture chamber he ever mani- fested an utter con- tempt for self and an absolute allegiance to a high but sombre con- ception of religious duty, which made him one of the most strik- MELAN NCTHON. mg figures of his age. Savonarola stol : C C e away from a home of ease and luxury » et ~ . : and turned his back upon the pleasures of * Mr. Symonds holds that Savon — : $ arola was not a curse me Sefonmagion, and shows that he did not break be ¥ 5 RST of 140 0 Db 4 iWever that this position is well taken. Up ton fertan po Latiier ou not break with the church. Indeed ream) of She 1 Sars o the Reformation in its inception was not 2 Sh at 8 Sou Sain of She aharen Savonarola lived before Lhe 2 s brave and as radic y Lod Jor 5 later nes in a rezion more remote a bi en Sm w Ih anual) Savonarola appz2ars essentially the. Spi ned in the brain of Luther. He was the h e crying in the wilderness. He vaguely P~ coming Reformation. MY bo TER Where, en chess i a A —— p T hla Ee re Ee en ali als pS a —— OF ITS LEADING SPIRITS. 24 THE REFORMATION AND SOME 25 — i I AI w a the Este Palace at Ferrara, where he was a would be renewed in our times. (2) That 3 : 1. and where he beheld the excesses before the renovation God would strike welcomed, 2 qh and beauty ir 3 Italy with a fearful chastisement. (3) That of Joyous, careless hey which he knew these would happen shortly.” The woes dulged n on Hoo r og e loomy dungeons. which were to afflict Italy were ever present prisoners ¢ th aol to his 2 in his mind. His prophecies met with start- In writing to lus 4 . vonarola gives the J ling verification, and his conviction that entering the eps: i Yo the act : «The i Christianity was to be renewed was realized, following as Dt d: the iniquities of though not in the way that so ardent a lover great misery © 1e a + and. robberion: ; of the Mother Church might have wished. men ; thew i A nd fearful blasphemy i At the time when Savonarola began to move ther pride, 16 on 43 I could not endure the 3 the conscience of the people, to the superficial are SO wile 2 ¢ the blinded people 3 observer Florence was one of the brightest enormous wicke hot 0 because 1 see every- . jewels in the crown of civilization. She of Italy ; the more 3 454 Yio honored.” 3 was the patron of art and letters, the throne whee Ti opie or obscure monk 4 of culture and beauty, and her noble sons bi Fhe, ad Lorenzo de’ 3 and daughters seemed to move in a ceaseless er ¢ the heioht of his power. In round of gay and joyous life, though the Medios was . a olin of discourses on i outward forms of religion were scrupulously 1491 he # tm created a tremendous i observed. But under this engaging mask the Apoca Ybse Yor Later. when writ- 2 seethed uncontrolled passions. Cruelty and impression . BA ne said: “1 began injustice were practised on every hand by mg of these SE he Revelation in our the rich and pewerful. The spirit of soul- publicly NE During the course of ] less selfishness seemed to have anesthetized Cen 6 I aleneivd to develop these 1 the people, from the prince to the peasant ; ie esnsiiant . (1) That the church even the church was honeycombed with re : : —————————————————— — - A a SS AS A Att etna Si SR ——— : 26 THE REFORMATION AND SOME immorality. In one of his sermons preached in Lent, 1497, Qavonarola boldly declared « that the priests were slaying the souls of their flocks by their wicked example.” « Their worship is,” he adds, “to spend the nights with strumpets and their days mn singing in the choir. The altar 1s their shop.” Savonarola beheld with horror the profligacy on every hand. He felt that he was inspired of God. He heard voices and beheld visions. In his sermons he seemed to lose himself in the thoughts which filled his brain. His terrible prophetic predictions were fulfilled in a” manner which startled the Florentines. Even Lorenzo, whose evil con- duct had not escaped the scathing denunci- ations of Savonarola, when on his deathbed sent for the austere monk. In the dark days which followed it was Qavonarola to whom Florence turned as to a wise father. He proved his patriotism and statesmanship to be as lofty as his spirituality. His one great desire was to make men better, to bring them to God. But after the glory came the gloom. He had sought to slay OF ITS LEADING SPIRITS. 97 pA the hydra of evil, and it at length struck him down at a time when virtue was Still weak in the city of Florence. His fate was one common to high-born souls who choose to be the pioneers of truth. At th moment when the flames wrapped the hy which had endured the most fr htfel torture, faint hearts doubtless felt ot all was lost for which he had lived. As a matte of fact, however, his life, deeds and a ings were to prove an inspiration to the Ref- ormation. The influence of a noble life lives in memory and in story, ennoblin all who come under its spell. So also = lofty utterances of a truth-inspired Toni carry the vitality of moral heroism which moulds and shapes other lives. The ashes of Savonarola were thrown into the waters of the Arno, but the mighty spirit of trutl which he had awakened lived in the ets of others, and long ere he died men re born destined to carry forward on a broader scale the work he had essayed in Florence At the time when the divine fires Wire burning brightest in the soul of Savonarola and the glory of the beyond was onli A 28 THE REFORM ATION AND SOME his brow, north of the Alps in the German town of Eisenach Martin Luther, a poor student with a charming tenor voice, was singing for alms before the homes of the well-to-do. In early life this young man caught the spirit of his age, which 1s essentially the spirit of our time; he felt the universal unrest and the 1ll- defined desire for L.. something better, purer and truer. He turned to relig- jon as naturally LUTHER IN MIDDLE LIFE. as did Titian to art, Copernicus to the stars, or Columbus to the ocean. In 1505 he entered the Augus- tinian convent at Erfurt. Here he found a Bible and greedily devoured its contents. But it did not give him peace. A great fear occupied his mental horizon. An angry God and a lost world filled the range of his vision. «T tormented myself to death,” he declared, ¢ to make my peace with God, but OF ITS LEADING SPIRITS. 29 I was in darkness and found it not.” For- tunately for him Staupitz, the vicar-general of his order, had passed through a similar ordeal. “ He had learned heart religion from the mystics,” and he greatly aided Luther. In 1511 Luther went to Rome. Here he was disillusioned. Instead of a holy city, he found a gay, pleasure-loving, voluptuous metropolis with a sacred college composed of men who were the antipodes of his ideal of holy fathers. The scandals current, the easy morals, the prodigality and profligacy he wit- nessed on every hand, where he had expected to find profound spirituality and an all-com- passionate charity, filled his mind with horror. He returned and took up his life work. In 1517 he boldly denounced the sale of indulg- ences, and shortly after was summoned to ap- pear before the cardinal legate, James de Vio of Gaeta. The cardinal expected to crush him with a few words. Luther convinced him that he had a man to deal with. «J can dispute no longer with this beast,” the cardinal exclaimed, “he has two wicked eyes and marvellous thoughts in his head.” Another ineffectual attempt was made by 30 THE REFORMA TION AND SOME Rome to bring Luther to submission. The breach widened. The reformer’s voice and pen were busy. He electrified the German people. The vigor of his thought, his sin- cerity, earnestness and undoubted religious fervor touched the hearts of his countrymen, and his appeals to their patriotism fired them with admiration for the bold, brave man who was battling unaided for a purer church and a truer life. In 1520 Pope Leo X. issued a bull con- demning Luther as a heretic. This bull Luther publicly burned. He was next or- dered by the Emperor Charles V. to appear before the Diet of Worms. His friends urged him to remain away. His superb courage was displayed in his memorable reply, « Were there as many devils in Worms as tiles on the roofs of the houses, still would I enter.” He faced his accusers, and departed under the safe conduct of the emperor. From this time he worked indefatigably. He translated the Bible into German ; he wrote much and preached frequently. He became the great incarnation of aroused re- ligious thought in his day, and as such was OF ITS LEADING SPIRITS. 31 recognized alike by the nobility and the people. This fact explains the extraordinary results which attended his labors and made it possible for an obscure monk to change the faith of nations and kindle the fires of reformation in many lands. In the history of Protestantism Luther will always remain a colossus among giants. Yet he was not without his faults. His language was often intemperate, coarse and bitter. Moreover he was intolerant. The great man he braved Rome was not great enough to accord the same tolerance to the pure-souled Zwinglh which he had demanded for himself. = Second only to Luther among the great theological reformers of the sixteenth Slits ury stands John Calvin. The influence exerted by this stern but sincere man has colored the thought of millions of human fives, and largely shaped the current of his- tory in many lands. He was educated for a Roman priest, but afterwards studied law and thus became at once a master in ceciott: astical learning and an astute reasoner. In- deed, an aptitude for scholastic philosophy seemed natural to him. In life he was simple, 32 THE REFORMATION AND SOME severe and inexorable. Even when a youth at school, he condemned all frivolity and absented himself from all popular pastimes and pleasures. He was a tireless student, and pondered deeply upon religious problems. . His rigid views of life led him most naturally to dwell upon those texts in that library of many minds and * complex thought, the Bible, which coincided with his gloomy musings. It was as natural for JomN CALVIN. John Calvin to focus his intellect upon the passages from which he drew his inferences and upon which he built his theory of unconditional elec- tion, as it was for W hittier’s thought to rest on those luminous passages which feed m- stead of poison a civilized soul. We are largely what our ideals and thoughts make us. Calvin's conception of God colored his every thought and deed. The frightful OF ITS LEADING SPIRITS. 33 philosophy which foredoomed babes to eter- nal damnation was a part of his conclusions based upon passages which appealed most. strongly to him. To question the accuracy of that philosophy which to him was clearly the eternal truth, was to be guilty of a heresy worthy of death. Calvin failed to comprehend the important truth that the great ethical and spiritual veri- ties can differ only in degree as we ascend from the savage to the most loving and ten- der nature that follows the golden rule as the supreme law of conduct, and from this truly civilized child of the Infinite, to the source of all life, love, justice and intelligence in an All-wise God, who, while greater as the mountain is greater than the hill, neverthe- less is of the same nature as the most lu- minous expressions of these attributes in the noblest of His children. Zhese great moral verities which in the savage are a rivulet, in the barbarian a stream, in the civilized man a river, are in God the ocean of life. But this supreme truth Calvin failed to dis- cern, else he would never have drawn inspi- ration from a chain of passages which logically 3 Ee ae ECLA | —— a 4 34 THE REFORMATION AND SOME make the Creator of the universe a monster, who in His creation of man committed a crime of measureless proportions. In justice to Calvin, however, we must re- member that in his day religion was on a much lower plane than it 1s to-day. Crude literal conceptions of texts had created an atmosphere of savage intolerance. The most sincere believers who followed the masterly reasonings of the founder of Presbyterianism, interpreted all the seemingly savage passages literally ; but when they came to such pas- sages as The letter killeth and the spirit maketh alive,” they passed them over as something meaningless or incomprehensible. Therefore, they believed in the resurrection of the physical body, literally in a lake of fire, and an endless sentence to undying torment for those foreordained before the foundation of the world to be damned, even though they die in infancy. The popular conception among those of other faiths at this time held none the less jealously to the theory of a never-ending torment in a lake of fire and brimstone in which the bodies of the con- demned would forever writhe. Thus the OF ITS LEADING SPIRITS. 35 church came naturally to seek to destroy heresy by a weak imitation of what she con- ceived to be the divine method of punish- ment. This is a fact we must bear in mind when viewing the atrocities of this age, the intolerance of Luther, or the crimes of Calvin. Their actions were oR the reflection of their ideals. They were imitating the God they worship- ped. Calvin was a very young man when the powerful spirit of the Reformation spreading over France took posses- sion of his suscept- ible nature. He WY, studied the Bible in Wy French, and later the New Testament in Greek, and soon became an influential teacher among those who dissented from the prevailing faith. Indeed, when only twenty-four years old he was recognized - " 2 : ; n i i a J a by! 3 7 A Tris A RE ASCURNTNT,, “ho 3 Sh 36 THE REFORMATION AND SOME as the leading spirit of the Reformation in France. It soon became necessary for him to fly from city to city and land to land to escape the fires of Rome. In 1536 he published his great book, « Institutes of the Christian Religion,” a work which, though it came from the brain of a man not yet thirty years old, has shaped the faith of illions of thoughtful people. The “ Insti- tutes’ gave Calvin prestige as a logician, and he soon became regarded as the fore- most reasoner of the Reformation. In his twenty-eighth year he settled in Geneva, where he sought to establish an ab- solute theocracy. He insisted on his religious views being taught in the schools, and sought to compel the people to conform to his ideas in regard to their mode of living and the cut of their clothes. This, as might naturally be expected, excited the indignation of the citizens, and Calvin was for a time ban- ished. He was, however, recalled in the winter of 1541, after which he succeeded in carrying nto offect his views of reform. He was an indefatigable worker, a man of deep convictions, and absolutely sincere. He lacked OF ITS LEADING SPIRITS. 37 the enthusiasm and fire of Luther and most of the other leaders of the Reformation, but he was far superior to them as a ogi After his return to Geneva, he labored night and day. There is something pathetic in these lines taken from a letter to a friend : “1 have not time to look out of m- house at the blessed sun. When I have settled my usual business I have so many letters to write, so many questions to answer, that many a night is spent without any olen of sleep being brought to nature.” 3 During Calvin’s supremacy in Geneva many persons were banished on account of loyalty to religious convictions which did not accord with his views. But the deepest stain on his reputation is the part he played in the terrible death of his old-time adversary, Ser- vetus, whom he caused to be avesiod, and who was vigorously prosecuted by Calvin. A sentence of death by burning was passed. It is claimed that Calvin exerted his influence to have Servetus slain by the sword instead of being burned. In this, however, he failed and Servetus- met death at the stake. As before observed, intolerance permeated the i amin rst a ————— Ema Ee Ry ———- Tr ree EIS; ya od 38 THE REFORMATION AND SOME spirit of the age. (Calvin, who when driven from France had written, «Every step to- ward its boundary cost me tears,” afterwards abetted the banishment of Dr. Bolsec from his home and practice because he opposed Calvin’s view of predestination. Indeed, it seems that tolerance is the hardest of all les- sons for mankind to learn, unless it be faith in freedom ; and yet not until humanity stands squarely upon the golden rule, which is the epitome of both, will man be truly civilized. John Calvin led a simple life. He ate little, dressed plainly, and avoided all extrav- agance and ostentation. There is something very attractive in the simplicity and purity which characterized this life ; but one can- not fail to regret that a soul so gifted and so sincere could not find a resting place on the love-lit peaks in the Bible which reflect a lofty spirituality, and which contain the prophecy of that dawn when all shall abide in the light. Luther and Calvin were the two great luminaries of the Reformation. But there were many other bright lights. Zwingli in Switzerland drew hisin viration from the New OF ITS LEADING SPIRITS. 39 Testament in the original Greek. He was a great friend of Erasmus and essayed t purify church and y 3 state, but he per- ished on the bat- tlefield. Of this great reformer, Jean Victor Duruy observes: “ As early as 1517 he had declared the Gospel the only rule of faith. One day when the sellers of in- dulgences begged him not to impede their commerce, because this money would serve to build the most beautiful temple of the universe, he showed the people the snowy summit of the Alps, gilded by the rays of the setting sun. Behold,” he cried, ‘the throne of the Eternal ; contemplate His works adore Him in His magnificence ; that is worth more than offerings to monks and pilgrim- ages to the bones of the dead.”” Knox, the Calvin of Scotland, by his superb Snirepitiiy, 40 THE REFORMATION AND SOME his intense earnestness, his profound belief in the truth of what he preached, moulded: the religious thought of his people. Melanc- thon was another colossal figure. He was the friend and counsellor of Luther, a scholar who almost always suggested moderation, who strove to live up to the maxim, “In essentials unity, in matters of doubt liberty, in all things charity ; = yet even he failed to entirely escape the intolerance of the age, for he justified Calvin In compassing the death of Servetus. All these men possessed that dauntless courage, that intensity of conviction, that love of truth, that stern morality, which are emi- nently the characteristics of reformers. And while they were frequerrtly fanatical and 1n- tolerant, in justice to them we must bear in mind that their idea of God tended to make them intolerant toward all who preached other than what they believed to be the saving truth, and the spirit of their age favored persecution. It was a period of brutality, which was soon to pass into a night of such merciless savagery as has seldom been equalled in the hastory of man’s ascent. OF ITS LEADING SPIRITS. eg eo,» 4 Ts exhibition of the spirit of intolerance t y cannot be excused or condoned: | 2 would be manifestly unjust to j der i great souls of the century of Sir Th fe More by the standards of the present gra aside from their fanaticism, and the Tat a Tes Rh so largely due to oi 1 od, they were noble figures tower- Wg Shaws the popular nn of the oe g wught of their age. They wer ws who believed they were Ho wl 5 1ad the courage of their Convio ol who sought to make t Ww b : o he orld purer and - oe err " —— — IIL—A GENERAL SURVEY OF THE ITAL- IAN PENINSULA DURING THE RENAIS- SANCE. Renaissance—The fall of Con- _ Milan—How these three re- f birth, the cunning d of force—The secularization of the Roman Church during this period—The menace of a union of church and state—Emilio Castelar comments on the church of this period—The bewildering spectacle of the beauty and shame, of gayety and tragedy, which characterized the Italian Peninsula—The inadequacy of the educational system of the past—The new educational ideals of our time and their promise. the Italian The centuries preceding e—Florence stantinople—Venic publics were overt of wealth, and the swor Tue Italy of the century of More presents iking and incongruous phenomena, ntelligently comprehend which keep In mind the cent- aries immediately preceding the Renais- sance ; centuries 10 which the human mind had been darkened by superstition and dwarfed by dogma; centuries in which re- ligion made the pious believe that danger lurked in beauty’s cup; and that pleasures which did not spring from theology lured to death ; that ignorance and credulity were 42 - many str in order to 1 it 1s necessary that we IT rBIN T ALY DURING THE RENAISSANCE 43 . [3] Wi of faith most pleasing to the God had o1ven man 1 iri ad g a searching spir 3 g spirit and dont sing mind, and that scepticism merited iosinae and death. “During the Middl ges man had lived envel od! : 3 eloped mn a cowl. 5 had not seen the beauty of the world, or ; 7 k only to cross himself and turn ile o tell his beads and pray. Like St. Ber- nard, travelling along the shores of Lake Le- ws and noticing neither the azure of the i; no the luxuriance of the vines, nor 1e radiance of the mountai ith ams, with thei i , eir i : of sun and snow, but bending a thought- ii ened forehead over the neck of his mals 5 wo iy i monk, humanity had passed ul pilgrim, intent on the : : : terrors of oo, doh and judgment, along the high- = ng the world, and had scarcely Koon ey were sight-wortl : 1 ey g rthy or that life was T ’ 38 lang night of superstition which en- 2 reason, exiled science and slew the peop ets of progress was so markedly charac- erized by an absolute fealty to religious O * John Addingto pa Italy.” gton Symonds, in * History of the Renaissance in 44 THE ITALIAN PENINSULA dogma, no matter how absurd, and a blind fan- aticism in regard to the letter of theological law, that one wonders at the greatness which remained in man to make a freer day resplen- dent with triumphs of genius in literature, science and art. The Italy of this century had behind it thelong and sang inary struggles of the com- munes, followed by the darker though more picturesque period, when petty tyrants ruled and the people had grown so sodden that they had in a degree lost the old-time passion for liberty, and with it the power to diserim- inate between a name and the soul for which the name was the symbol. They had yielded inch by ich to oppression clothed in the mantle of a vanished popular liberty, until an absolute despotism, which still bore the name of free government, was tolerated 1n more than one of the states of Italy. At the moment when the news of the fall of Constantinople struck terror to the various Italian states, no less than to the papal see, Italy was the victim of numerous petty des- pots whose histories were not infrequently a catalogue of crimes—men of power, gifted DURING THE RENAISSANCE. 45 in intrigue, of indomitable will, intrepid in war, genial and affable among friends, but merciless toward enemies, and as treach- erous as they were courageous. The wars of petty tyrants and despots, the larger struggle of the party of the Roman Empire against the party of the Roman Church, lust for power mingled with lust for gold, and over all the pall of superstition which con- demned the free-thinker and philosopher, but permitted the grossest immorality to pass unchallenged—such were some of the phenomena presented by the Italy of the Middle Ages, such were the precursors of the Renaissance on this peninsula. The political history of Italy during the early years of the century following the fall of Constantinople,in 1453 * presents one of * Many eminent historians place 1453 as the year which marked the close of the Middle Ages and the commencement of what we term Modern Times, as this year witnessed the fall of Constanti- nople and the diffusion of the Greek scholars of the East throu hout Italy, and it also witnessed the end of the hundred years’ i be: tween France and England. The knell of the era of feudalism had sounded, the dawn of centralized government had opened ; central: ized government, which though despotic was to prove the pre- cursor of a representative government, and under the ex bs ng light of freedom and knowledge to bloom one day into RE 2 as fhe world has not yet seen—a social democracy or a true re- 46 THE ITALIAN PENINSULA the most anomalous spectacles in the annals of civilization. A mad ambition, as short- sighted as 1t was selfish, permeated the pen- insula, which at this time was divided into numerous states, united by customs, habits of thought, and, to a certain degree, by language, but separated by a deadly jealousy. Venice, opulent and independent, with its unique government, was the object of envy throughout Italy. Florence, holding still to the shell of a republic, was the slave of the shrewd banker and diplomat, Cosmo de’ Medici. Milan was governed by a duke, and Naples by a king ; but it mattered not whether the state was an alleged republic, a ducal dominion or a kingdom, despotism prevailed everywhere. The old-time free- dom was lost. The people had lost courage. The political eclipse of the peninsula was at hand. Perhaps we can best gain a clear in- sight into political conditions by briefly notic- ing some of the Ttalian states of this period. In Venice we find an oligarchy springing from an hereditary aristocracy, which had gradually supplanted a republic, but which shrewdly held to the popular name of re- DURING THE RENAISSANCE. 47 public. It is a long, sad story, the destruc- tion of free government and the establishment of a hereditary aristocracy, the narrowing of the power of the privileged rulers, the estab lishment of the council of ten, the crushing of opposition by aid of hired informers, and lastly the creation of the three inquisitors of the state. In discussing this last mentioned body, an eminent historian observes : They could, without giving account of their de- cision, pronounce sentence of death and dispose of public funds. Justly the ambition of these men was feared. Two of the n- quisitors of the state, with the approval of the Doge, could condemn the third. The three inquisitors of the state had the right of making their own statutes and of chang- ing them as they pleased, so that the republic was ignorant even of the law which governed ux This government, strange as it may seem, apparently prospered for a time, much as did Rome under Augustus Caesar. It sought to overcome dissatisfaction in two ways: 1t destroyed those supposed to be in opposition * Victor Duruy’s * History of Modern Times,” pp. 60, 61. rc i mm —— ke —— . = - : ” . 48 THE ITALIAN PENINSULA to the ruling power, while it assured labor to the citizens of the state. But material prosperity, while much, is not the chief end of human life. A full stomach is something, it is true, but it means far more to a pig than to a man. Work with good wages is much, but if that work and material prosperity are attainable only at the price of free thought, they cost far too much for noble, aspiring men and women ; and though Venice was in one sense the envy of Italy and the wonder of the world, she was canopied by a great fear. Thoughshe boasted of three thousand ships and thirty thousand soldiers and was noted for the ¢ luxurious life led by the rich and oftentimes by the people, the spy and the informer reigned, being encouraged, paid and organized, and terror hovered over every head. The noble who spoke ill of the gov- ernment was twice warned and for the third offence he was drowned. Every workman who exported any commodity useful to the republic was stabbed. Judgment, execution, all were secret. The mouth of the lion of Qt. Mark received the anonymous denun- ciations, and the waves which passed under DURING THE RENAISSANCE. 49 the Bridge of Sighs carried away the corpses.” * Venice, proud, prosperous, arrogant, des- potic and treacherous, was hated and feared both by the Ottomans on the east and the states of the Peninsula on the west. When it seemed good policy for her to treat with the Mussulman she did not seruple to break the solemn treaty of Lodi, which bound the states of Italy together in a mutual bond against the Eastern invader, and when re- proached her citizens replied, “ We are Venetians first and Christians second.” The oligarchy which ruled Venice with watchful eye was jealous for the material prosperity of the state, and from afar the so-called re- public was regarded as the beau idéal of government. It is well to remember, how- ever, that states thus ruled have no glorious to-morrow ; only where freedom is fostered, where free speech and free thought are en- couraged, where a broad, sturdy, ethical, n- tellectual, and industrial education is insisted upon, and where the citizens of a common- wealth are taught that true safety lies in the * Victor Duruy’s * History of Modern Times," p. 61. 50 THE ITALIAN PENINSULA light of knowledge rather than in the dark- ness of ignorance, do we find a condition which fosters content, guarantees progress and foretells a to-morrow more glorious than any yesterday the race has known. Turning from Venice, the opulent mis- tress of the Adriatic, with her tints of mother-of-pearl, with her splendid sunrises and gorgeous sunsets, we come to notice Florence on the banks of the Arno ; Flor- ence, which had struggled so long and so blindly for freedom, had finally fallen into the snares of a bourgeois family, and as Venice had lost her freedom through the machinations of an arrogant aristocracy, sO Florence passed into abject slavery through the subtle but settled policy of the de’ Medici family of bankers and traders. This re- markable family won over the masses by cunning devices ; its heads for successive generations expended money liberally and judiciously to obtain power for their house, and when once the goal was won they found little difficulty in ruling the republic while seeming to be private citizens, until the advent of Savonarola, and indeed until the DURING THE RENAISSANCE. 51 death of Lorenzo. The most illustrious English historian of the Renaissance 1 Italy thus describes the method pursued by this family in retaining the power they liad wrested from the Florentines : “The de’ Medici, in effect, bought and sold the honor of the public officials, lent money, jobbed posts of profit and winked at peculation, until they had created a sufficient body of men who had everything to gain by a con- tinuance of their corrupt authority.” * After Florence fell into the power of this family the prospect of her becoming a stable republic diminished with each successive year. Her great weakness was an excessive intel- lectual development without corresponding moral culture; she lacked the sturdy ele- ments which the Germany of that epoch possessed, and which Norway and Sweden, and to a certain extent the Russia of to-day, possess. A soil in which intellectual culture and artistic development flourish without being accompanied by a high appreciation of justice and a noble ideal of manhood and * “The Renaissance in Italy: Age of the Despots,”” by John Addington Symonds. Pp. 230-232. 52 THE ITALIAN PENINSULA womanhood is a soil unfavorable to free government, for liberty can only be main- tained by a passion for freedom and justice in the hearts of the people so strong that the martyr spirit 1s awakened whenever free government 1s imperilled. Florence lacked this. She had become morally enervated. The struggle of generations had wearied her. She submitted to the rule of the de’ Medici and gave herself up, for a season, at least, to the cultivation of the beauty of life and, be it said with sadness, to the indulgence of the sensual passions. From this slumber Savo- narola sought to awaken her, and for a time it seemed as if he had succeeded ; but the poison had too thoroughly permeated the public mind, and in the end the Floren- tines lapsed back into the long, melancholy sleep which comes upon a body from which the soul has flown. From Florence we turn to Milan, nest- ling in the lap of one of the most fertile plains in Italy. This unfortunate dominion had been for many generations the victim of the heads of the Visconti family, whose lust had been exceeded only by their rapac- DURING THE RENAISSANCE. 53 ity, and whose rapacity was eclipsed only by their cruelty. Thus, for example, Giovanni Maria Visconti, the last but one of these despots, distinguished himself for his lust and brutality. He used his hounds to run down and tear to pieces all the crimi- nals of Milan ; even the participators in his own criminal excesses, when discovered and denounced, were given up to the hounds. The count, it is said, went into ecstasies of delight while beholding the poor prisoners being torn to pieces by the savage hounds. Giovanni was suceeeded by his brother Filippo, and after his death, in 1447, the people of Milan hastened to declare them- selves in favor of a republic. Seldom has history presented a more pathetic page than the spectacle of Milan, after groaning under the galling and degrading tyranny of the Visconti family for many weary generations, rising as one man on the death of the last of the tyrants of that house, and declaring that henceforth Milan should be a republic. The dream of freedom, however, was of short duration; for in a war with Venice the citizens of Milan had rashly called in 04 THE ITALIAN PENINSULA Francesco Sforza to aid them. This am- bitious and unscrupulous soldier, after con- quering the Venetians, besieged Milan. The republic, although it held out bravely for a time, succumbed in 1450, and Fran- cesco Sforza became Duke of Milan. Sforza was the son of an Italian peasant who had early become a soldier of fortune. Fran- cesco had followed his father’s adopted trade, and was a soldier of more that ordinary ability ; he ruled over Milan sixteen years. Here let us pause, for we are in the pres- ence of some facts of history of special value to all lovers of free government. In the enslavement of Venice, Florence and Milan we have striking illustrations of the three agencies which have wrought the overthrow of republics in all past ages. In Venice, n her slow transformation from a republic to a hereditary aristocracy, from which issued a despotic oligarchy, we see a repetition of the triumphs of the patricians in old Rome, in which a class or hereditary power remorse- lessly trampled upon the rights and liberties of those born into less favored homes. In the ascendency of the de’ Medici family DURING THE RENAISSANCE. 55 of Florence, we see the triumph of the shrewd, calculating money lenders, who by careful and cautious steps advance from simple bourgeois to the mastery of one of the most opulent and cultured states of the age. It was the conquest of the usurer over a people weary of battling for freedom, who, mn an unguarded hour, listened to the velvet voice of professed friendship, and later per- mitted themselves to be seduced by golden gifts lavishly offered and pleasures provided without stint. There is nothing more subtle, dangerous or essentially immoral than the machinations of wealth when it assails free- dom ; and republics have nothing to fear so much as vast accumulations in the hands of the few. The new-born republic of Milan, springing from her long and odious bondage, was only suffered to draw a few deep inspirations of freedom ere the sword of the son of a peasant slew her liberty. Thus we see (1) the fiction of birth, (2) the cunning of wealth and (3) the sword of savage force accomplish their deadly work in destroying these three re- publics ; and the significance of this lesson I a 5 . i] i HE H i : FAD } ] Li i ’ Uh i : 2 J 1 { 4 ARE : i i : | | iF] | | HEE RIL HE RRL HE } ' ir i BUY 5 a g | i h | h LL i 1 §. ] LL i y | | i “HE : HI § | gi 1 SEY H Fi HSER it } $1 | i i HB | HE A ! i" ! (5 J ; 1 | ER ik 18 3 ei \ HRY FIRE { { HE i ih i it 5 Bl i IA i " | i Bh EEL y HE HEI! El | 56 THE ITALIAN PENINSULA 18 heightened when we remember that one or more of these baleful influences have wrecked the republics ‘which strew the pathway of history. A people who would be free must never slumber, and the important facts em- phasized by the fate of these republics hold a peculiar interest for the patriots in our great republic to-day, for the de’ Medici still live and Sforza is born again. While noticing some of the political as- pects of Ttaly, it will be necessary to consider in a general way the political influence of the papal see during the century following the fall of Constantinople ; for during this period the church reached the height of secu- larization, and history records gloomy facts which are pregnant with lessons for thought- ful men and women. Tt was at this time that scholarly Italians and Spaniards as skilled 1n finesse as they were lacking in spirituality, reached the papal chair by means which put to blush all pretensions of purity and probity ; men whose vision was canopied with ambi- tious dreams of temporal power and personal aggrandizement. Sixtus IV., Innocent VIIL, and Alexander VI.—what images do these DURING THE RENAISSANCE. o7 names bring before the mind of the since student, concerned only about the sober fa ” of history, and in no way actuated by a Vortec to cover up the gross crimes of men who under the scarlet robe degraded religion and brought additional reproach upon de of I zation of their time! ibn The history of the church during this period reminds one of the Jewish touch when the Scribes and Pharisees brought Jesus to the cross while they enlarged ei phylacteries and lengthened their pa ers ; but there 1s this essential difference: J in never approached the moral degradation bi marked the century in which fouiihed or us 1V., Innocent VIII., and Alexander The baleful effects of the union of church and state were probably never more vividl portrayed than in the debasement of oe religion during this period. In referring . the shame which Christianity suffered Sor men without any true conception of religion who filled the papal chair, Mr. Symonds says :* * 3 History of the Renaissance in Italy.” Symonds. Part I., By John Addingtom ‘* Age of the Despots,” chapter vii. 58 THE ITALIAN PENINSULA ¢« The popes acted more as monarchs than as pontifs, and the secularization of the see of Rome was carried to its utmost limits. The contrast between the sacerdotal pretensions and the personal immorality of the popes was glaring. x * * The history of Italy has at all times been closely bound up with that of the papacy; but at no period has this been more the case than during these eighty years of papal worldliness, ambition, nepotism and profligacy, which are also marked by the jrruption of the European nations into Italy, and by the secession of the Teutonic races from the Latin church. In this short space of time a succession of popes filled the holy chair with such dramatic propriety —display- ing a pride so regal, a cynicism sO unblushing, so selfish a cupidity, and a policy so suicidal, as to favor the belief that they had been placed there in the providence of God to warn the world against Babylon. Undisguised sen- suality ; fraud, cynical and unabashed ; policy marching to its end by murders, treasons, interdicts and imprisonments; the open sale of spiritual privileges ; commercial traffic in ecclesiastical emoluments ; hypocrisy and DURING THE RENAISSANCE. 59 cruelty studied as fine arts ; theft and per reduced to system—these are the Tr scandals which beset the papacy. Be “14 would be possible to write the histor of these priest-kings without dwelling 5 scandalous circumstances, to iy tl court chronicle of the Vatican in 9) eri) y European politics, or to hide the true Rg high papal dignitaries beneath constructed for them by ecclesias- tical apologists. That cannot, however, be the line adopted by a writer weliig of civilization in Italy during the filtesnih d sixteenth centuries. Hemust paint the ee of the Renaissance as they appeared a midst of society, when Lorenzo de’ Medi ; called Rome ¢a sink of all the vices,’ ng observers 80 competent as Machiavel and Guiceiardini ascribed the moral depravit and political decay of Italy to their hs 4 It might be objected that there is now no a 2 portray the profligacy of that court, which y arousing the conscience of Norther Europe to a sense of intolerable shame, proved one of the main causes of the Reformation But without reviewing these old scandals, . 60 THE ITALIAN PENINSULA true understanding of Italian morality and a true insight into Ttalian social feeling as expressed in literature, are alike impossi- ble.” Even Machiavelli, who participated in the evils of his age, was philosophical enough to see the political ruin being wrought by the appalling corruption of the church, as will be seen by the following scathing criticisms in which the intellectual Italian thus sums up the evil conditions of his time: © Had the religion of Christianity been preserved according to the ordinances of 1ts founder, the states and commonwealths of Christen- dom would have been far more united and far happier than they are. Nor is it pos- sible to form a better estimate of its decay “than by observing that, In proportion as We approach nearer to the Roman Church, the head of this religion, Wwe find less piety prevail among the nations. Considering the primitive constitution of that church, and noting how diverse are its present cus toms, we are forced to judge that without doubt either ruin or a scourge is now impend- ing over it. And since some men are of DURING THE RENAISSANCE. 61 opinion that the welfare of Italy depends upon the church, I wish to put hh arguments as occur to my mind to the con- trary ; and of these I will adduce two, which as I think, are irrefutable. The first 1s diils, that owing to the evil ensample of the pa al court, Italy has lost all piety and all Ten : whence follow infinite troubles and rs ders ; for as religion implies all good, so its absence implies the contrary. Conifer quently to the church and priests of Row we Italians owe this obligation TL i become void of religion and cor- Whenever the church and state become united, one of two things follows—either re- ligion 1s debased until it becomes a thing of reproach and contempt, as during the Sl of the popes mentioned above ; or bigotr flames forth and we have cruel tn as in Germany under Calvin, in Spain niles Ferdinand and Isabella and their successors and in England under Henry VIIL Yivard VI., Mary, and Elizabeth. And oh only does persecution follow, but progress is re- tarded, science is placed under ban, an- 62 THE ITALIAN PENINS ULA cient ideals are exalted over new thought, and the eyes of the people are turned from the dawn. With this brief summary of some of the political aspects of Italy during the Renais- sance, we turn to the general conditions which prevailed throughout the Italian Pe- ninsula in the early years of the century com- mencing with 1450. The people were weary of struggles ; they longed for something which might serve as a bright diversion ; they hungered for something better and brighter than the gloomy years behind them had unfolded. And the diversion came with the scholars who flocked to Italy after the fall of Constantinople. Greece was redis- covered. «The gods of the ancients were reborn, revealing in their frames of marble all the secrets of the sculptor’s art, and the works of artists were burned In bonfires, stirred by a population of monks in the Piazza de Fi- renze. The Perugino Convent stall preserved the penitence and the mortifications of the cloister, and the Farnese Hercules was erected on Roman soil to show all the force DURING THE RENAISSANCE. 63 and power of antiquity. Ariosto wrote his sensual work—in which the heroes dance as in a brilliant carmival, and dream in delicate language the Platoniecs of Florence, with mysterious sentiments, with Heaven con- cealed behind the sepulchre, and God hidden from the world. Savonarola, that political Francois d’Assis, invokes saints and angels recommends fasting and penance, and ro news the imitation of Jesus Christ. The Florentine people selected for their chief the Crucified, while the Romans chose Cesar Borgia, handsome, but vicious and infamous a traitor, stained with the blood of his broths er and brother-in-law, which splashed his forehead and that of the Pope ; degraded b orgies like those of Nero, poprofncing by erotic delirium of Heliogabalus in conjunc- a Silk bn Seaghiings and poisonings The splendid triumphs of the Italian life of this period are not found in the fields of morals and religion. It is true that for a time Savonarola aroused Florence, but his influence was so fleeting that it serves to * Emilio Castelar, in ** Old Rome and New Italy.” 64 THE ITALIAN PENINSULA emphasize, in a most startling manner, the religious apathy of the Italian mind. On the other hand Grecian thought quickened the scholars, while for sensuous art it was the most glorious day that ever had dawned on earth. We must not, however, imagine that man was at peace with man, that love in its higher aspect ruled society, or that art was the handmaid of virtue. There were two sides to the civilization of Italy during the Renaissance. If she clothed herself in glory, beneath that glory were the rags of shame. The contrasts which impress the student of history, who from the Germany of Luther turns to the Ttaly of Leo X., are scarcely more impressive than the antitheses presented by the professions and practices in high Italian life. Among the poor here, as elsewhere, igno- rance and superstition prevailed. They were for the most part pawns subject to the will and caprice of the reigning powers ; practi- cally serfs without fully realizing it. The savagery of their natures, largely due to the long and bloody wars of the Guelphs and Ghibellines, was expressed 1n brutal deeds DURING THE RENAISSANCE. 65 whenever individuals or the masses were aroused. Among the titled, wealthy and educated classes conscienceless sensuality flourished by the side of transcendent art. It was a period of appalling moral degradation, sug- gesting vividly the most vicious days under the pagan emperors. Unbridled passion revolting sensuality and a refined sages —if I may use so paradoxical a term—ran through the fibre of society ; while at the same time poetry, belles-lettres and the classics received a recognition never before accorded in a Christian land. Side by side with the moral eclipse which marked the lives of so many of the most powerful and scholarly men of this time, art flourished as never before. It was a summer day for poetry, sculpture, architecture and painting in Italy. To the superficial observer a halo of golden glory rests over the land of the Ceesars during this period ; the student of history, however, perceives that the gold was reddened with blood. Comedy and tragedy went arm in arm; the peninsula wis eld in beauty ; she was holding a Belshazzar’s 5 66 THE ITALIAN PENINSULA feast, but sensuality had blinded her eyes to the handwriting of destiny. It has been observed that animal organisms live by devouring others, and that spiritual organisms live by aiding others. This is the supreme truth of the ages, the capital lesson for humanity to learn. There are two phases of life—the sensuous or animal, and the spiritual or divine. The soul flourishes when man lives for his fellow-man; it shrivels and dies when he lives for self alone, when for his own gratification he tramples upon virtue and justice, or destroys the happiness of the humblest of his race. Now, it was on this lower plane that the majority of the ruling minds moved during this period, and hence for the philosopher it was a tragic age. At this point it is well to note a fact which illustrates most impressively the in- adequacy of all educational systems in the past—that art, culture and scientific prog- ress frequently flourish luxuriantly when a nation through moral enervation 1s sinking into comparative insignificance from a fore- DURING THE RENAISSANCE. 67 most position in a civilization. The con- dition of immense wealth centralized in the hands of a few, and those few dominating the legislation of the nation, speaks of a mortal disease in the body politic; and this condition is invariably accompanied by blunted moral sensibilities, most apparent at the zenith and nadir of society. But not infrequently at this melancholy stage in a nation’s decline, a passion for art takes pos- session of the public mind; it becomes a mania or a “fad”; artists become the idols of the very rich. Then we have a spectacle such as the Italy of this age presented ; a spectacle that leads short-sighted people to imagine that art 1s sensuous. This mistake was made by Savonarola and the leaders of the Reformation, and it served greatly to retard progress along one of the most exalting highways of human progress. It 1s doubtless true, however, that we shall never appreciate how essentially enno- bling 1s the spirit of true art until just con- ditions prevail and the wealth created by a people is enjoyed by its creators, while a rational educational system produces sturdy A I — . os Je An BA set ita A — Lt 68 THE ITALIAN PENINSULA. morality, pure ideals and ennobling aspira- tions, as our present educational system produces trained intellects. And 1t is a sign at once hopeful and significant of a distinct moral advance that the finest natures among the younger artists, sculp- tors and poets of our time begin to appre- ciate the force of this truth in an intelli gent way. William Ordway Partridge, the sculptor, poet and essayist, gives voice to this thought in the following lines, which are in striking contrast to the artistic spirit of the Renaissance : « Down with your roses into the dust ! Let the lips of your song be sealed ! Snatch manhood’s sword from the scabbard of rust, And strike till this curse be healed ! “ Let us hymn no more to Apollo and Pan ! What use, in the face of a wrong, To be wasting the life and the strength of a man In a cowardly, meaningless song ? «We are wearing the linen and purple rich, Made of heart, of soul, and of brain Of the children who strain, and the women who stitch Till their eyes burn out with pain. DURING THE RENAISSANCE. ¢ Oh, down with your roses into the dust ! Let the lips of your song be sealed ! Awake your soul from its scabbard of rust, And strike till this wrong be healed ! ” These stanzas breathe the spirit of a better and a truer age as truly as the poetry of Ariosto breathed the prevailing spirit of his time. Just social conditions and an edu- cational system broad enough to take in ethics in a vital way—these are the crying needs of our day; and there are many evi- dences that glimpses of their splendid possi- bilities flashed upon the mind of Sir Thomas More as he penned “ Utopia.” IV.—SOME FATAL FIGURES OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. The Medicean family—Professor Vallari's suggestive Sbservations How liberty was lost—Lorenzo de’ Medici—The patron 0 2 — The ruler of Florence—The slave to his own passions— } 3 Borgian family—Machiavelli—The man and his Weiings- > servations on the “Prince » of Machiavelli—The * Utopia of Sir Thomas More. 1 wise to notice now as briefly as possible some of the masterful minds among the rulers, writers, and artists of this epoch, for in this way we shall’ catch the lights and shad- ows of those eventful times and be enabled to appreciate in a degree the atmosphere of the age. The Medici and the Bor- : gia families among the rulers, Machiavelli among the writers of great intellectual power, and Cellini among the artists, afford us illustrations of the darker side of life, as 70 MACHIAVELLI. FATAL FIGURES OF THE RENAISSANCE. 71 Michael Angelo, Raphael, Da Vinei, and Cor- reggio reveal the artistic triumphs of that age. The history of the Medici family 1s exceed- ingly suggestive, because it. illustrates the manner in which the usurer class and the acquirers of wealth subvert liberty, trample upon justice and, while maintaining the shell and name of free institutions, exercise a des- potism as baleful in its influence over the masses as it 1s progressive in its character; a despotism which subtly advances step by step, through controlling the opinion-forming organs of society, and later by controlling’ legislation from behind the scenes, until the wealth-producers of a city, nation or civiliza- tion become in reality, though not in name, the bond slaves of the acquirers and ma- nipulators of unearned wealth. So important 1s this truth and so vividly is 1t illustrated in the history of the Medici family that I shall quote somewhat at length from the learned Professor Vallari of the Royal Institute of Florence in his admirable paper on the house of the Medici in the Encyclopaedia Britan- nica. In discussing this family Professor 72 SOME FATAL FIGURES Vallari describes ¢ the subtle policy that was persistently pursued from generation to gen- eration,” and shows how Giovanni de’ Medic apparently © took little part In political affairs, but realized an immense fortune by establishing banks in Italy and abroad, which, in his successor’s hands [Cosimo de’ Medici] became the most efficient engine of political power.” Of Cosimo de’ Medici, our author says : « He succeeded in solving the strange prob- lem of becoming absolute ruler of a republic that was keenly jealous of its liberty, without holding any fixed office, without suppressing any previous form of government and always preserving the appearance and form of a private citizen.” The Medici were thrifty ; they had subtly conquered the people, before the masses real- ized that they were slaves, by a lavish ex- penditure of gold; but no sooner was power theirs than they made it tell in replenishing their exchequer. The policy of Cosimo was so like the methods which have been em- ployed during the past generation by the money power in our land, that it should serve OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 73 as a timely warning to all who love freedom and justice more than selfish gain or personal aggrandizement, inspiring them to the con- secration of life’s best energies in a ceaseless combat against a power which more than once has slain liberty, degraded manhood to slavery, and ultimately destroyed national life. In speaking of the artful methods of Cosimo, Professor Vallari observes : ; « He was generous in lending and even giv- ing money whenever he could gain popubirity by that means. At critical moments he fre- quently came to the succor of the govern- ment itself. He was very dextrous i turn- ing his private liberality to account for the increase of his political privileges, and showed no less acumen and fewer scruples in making use of his political prestige for pecuniary profit. Indeed, whenever his own interests were at stake he showed himself capable of political villainy, although this was always tempered by calculation. * * * He had com- prehended that the art of politics depended rather upon individuals than institutions, and i he who ruled men could also dictate 2 AWS. 74 SOME FATAL FIGURES Lorenzo de’ Medici pursued the same policy as his father, although he felt less necessity for employing the same degree of caution, as the public conscience was being rapidly lulled to sleep. He was more lavish mn the expenditure of money than his father, while he was not nearly so shrewd a business man; consequently he was sometimes driven “to help himself from the public purse. At length he succeeded in becoming complete master of Florence.” And our author con- tinues : : « Florence was still called a republic ; the old institutions were still preserved, if only in name. Lorenzo was absolute lord of all and virtually a tyrant. % % % The more op- pressive his government the more did he seek to incite the public to festivities, and lull it to slumber by sensual enjoyment. His immorality was scandalous. He kept an army of spies and meddled with the citizens most private affairs.” : : No one reading Professor Vallari’s mas- terly paper will fail to be impressed with the striking similarity in the action pursued by the Medicean family and the usurer class of OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 75 our time. And as Florence ceased to be a republic without losing her republican form of government, so our nation is threatened with a similar fate. Lorenzo de’ Medici occupies so large a place in the history of Italy during the cent- ury we are considering that he calls for more than a passing notice. A closer view of the man and his methods will enable us to un- derstand how without the aid of great daily papers to fashion the unthinking public mind he succeeded in deluding the people into imagining that an absolute despotism was a republic so long as the shell of her institu- tions was preserved. His palace was the meeting-place for beauty and culture. Its gardens and festal boards welcomed the fore- most scholars and men of genius of the age. Here Poliziano was welcomed—Poliziano, who became the representative of the highest attainment in the scholarship of his age and country. Here, too, appeared Pico della Mi- randola, who became the greatest mystic of his time ; a man whose later life was singu- larly pure, and who brought the energies of his brilliant intellect to the work of harmo- 76 SOME FATAL FIGURES nizing the Christian and classical traditions. Of Pico it has been observed that, having conceived the great idea of the unity of knowledge, he sought to seize the soul of truth which animates all systems.” Here the eminent architect and sculptor, Leo Bat- tista Alberti, conversed with the polished scholar Landino. And here, also, Michael Angelo first wielded his chisel. Indeed, An- gelo owed much to Lorenzo, for while the young sculptor in following the strong bent of his mind met with the strenuous opposi- tion of his father and the tense jealousy of his tutor, the prince took him into his family and treated him much as a son. Tt 1s safe to say that had it not been for Lorenzo de’ Medici Europe would not have received the sudden intellectual 1mpetus which followed the focussing of Eastern scholarship in Florence. His patronage of letters and art made scholarship and the fine arts popular, and stimulated intellectual ac- tivity and artistic impulse in a very marked degree among the young, while his liberality to master minds enabled men of genius to give forth the best from the storehouse of OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 77 their brains. Thus much can be fairly said to the credit of Lorenzo de’ Medici and iti genuine pleasure to be able to giv a Dis vi to SO fatal a figure without veneering 11s crimes or ignoring his grave faults. He was, moreover, a finished writer of prose and a poet of more than ordinary power But his influence on public iad rivat morals was baleful in the extreme se 1 2 lived on the sensual plane. He vos ee of Florence, but the slave of his sions His life was scandalously immoral. Norw he satisfied with slaying virtue to glut bi : lust in order to secure for himself Tat he ane to be pleasure ; he composed car- g 1e streets and amid the populace of Florence, thereb poisoning many minds with vile images ol giving vice the sanction of culture nd power : Of late Lorenzo has found eulogists, who a ; s as sad as it 1s signifi- cant. It indicates that not only aitthors but a reading public are willing to condone in the powerful and learned, oils which ny oF EE iil rit iB iL iE : am a ak - is ih —— 3. Te eI mia gy LV ” " . rem i: . Et A wr CG ————— SL EE 78 SOME FATAL FIGURES destroy manhood and undermine eciviliza- tion. The Borgias afford another illustration of the eclipse of conscience in individuals who were fine scholars and patrons of art. They, for a time, wielded great power. Roderigo Borgia, who on his election to the papal chair took the title of Alexander VI., has been frequently termed the worst of the popes,” but the way for his excesses had been prepared by the godless and vicious rule of Sixtus IV., and the weaker but scarcely less revolting pontificate of Innocent VIIL* * Of these two popes Mr. Symonds says: * Having bribed the most venal members of the Sacred College, Francesco del'a Rovere was elected pope, and assumed the name of Sixtus IV. He bcoon his career with a lie: for though he succeeded to the avaricious Paul, who had spent his time in amassing moncy which hc did not tse, he declared that he had only found five thousand florins in the papal treasury. This assertion was proved falsc by the prodicality with which he lavished wealth immediately upon hic nephews. It is dif- ficult even to hint at the horrible suspicions “hich were cast upon the birth of two of the pope’s nephews and upon the nature of his weakness for them. Yet the private life of Sixtus rendered the most monstrous stories plausible, while his public treatment of these men recalled to mind the partiality of Nero for Doryphorus. . . . But Christendom beheld in Sixtus not merely the spectacle of a pope who trafficked in the bodies of his subjects and the holy things of God, but one who also squandered basely gotten gold upon aban- doned minions. The peace of Italy was destroyed by desolating wars in the advancement of the same worthless favorites. Sixtus desired to annex Ferrara to the dominions of Girolamo Riario. Nothing stood in his way but the house of Este, firmly planted for centuries, and connected by marriage or alliance with all the chief families of Italy. The pope, whose lust for blood and broils was only equalled OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 79 The most eminent of Italian historians * thus characterizes Alexander VI. : “He combined craft with a singular sa- gacity, a sound judgment with extraordinary powers of persuasion, and to all the grave affairs of life he applied ability and pains beyond belief ; but these qualities were far surpassed by vice, private habits of the utmost obscenity, no shame, no sense of truth, no fidelity to his engagements, no religious sentiment, insatiable avarice, unbridled am- bition, cruelty beyond the cruelty of bar- barous races. He was the most sensual by hic avarice and his libertinism, rushed with wild delight into a project which involved the discord of the whole Peninsula. He made treaties with Venice and unmade them, stirred up all the pas- sions of the despots and set them together by the ears, called the Swiss mercenaries into Lombardy, and when, finally, tired of fight- ing for his nephew, the Italian powers concluded the peace of Bag- nolo, he died of rage in 1484. The pope did actually die of disap- pointed fury because peace had been restored to the country he had mangled for the sake of a favorite nephew. . . . Another peculi- arity in the pentifieate of Sixtus deserves special mention. It was under his auspices, in the year 1478, that the Inquisition was founded in Spain for thc extermination of Jews, Moors and Christians with a taint of heresy. ‘Of Innocent’s pontificate little need be said. He was the first pope publicly to acknowledge his seven children, and to call them sons and daughters. Avaricc, venality, sloth and the ascendency of base favorites made his reign loathsome, without the blaze and splendor of the scandals of his fiery predecessor. In corruption he advanced a step even beyond Sixtus, by cstablishing a bank at Rome for the sale of pardons. Each sin had its price, which might be paid at the convenience of the criminal.” * Guicciardini. 80 SOME FATAL FIGURES. OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 81 toward both sexes, keeping publicly women by poison attributed to Cesare and his father and boys, but more especially toward were probably exaggerated, but the general women.” = credence given to the charges indicates the The life of this pontiff affords another popular estimate in which the Borgias were vivid picture of the dark side of high Italian held. Of Lucretia, it is fair to oy she has life during the century of which we write. * doubtless suffered, as one writer suggests Passing from Alexander VI., we come to vicariously, there being little ovidenes tli notice his son. Cesare was daring, unscrupu- she was guilty of the poisonings and other lous and vicious. He lived in reckless aban- monstrous crimes attributed to Lev don, a slave of lust and personal ambition. Another notable character in the shifting He was learned and a patron of art, kind and scenes of this age was Machiavelli, who in considerate to those who obeyed him, but his great work, ¢ The Prince,” takes Cesare treacherous and merciless toward his enemies. Borgia as his model. Machiavelli was one After the storming of Sinigaglia, toward of the most brilliant minds of this wonder- the close of 1502, he ruthlessly slaughtered ful era. the prisoners, including several princes. The 1 A } Ch Se SOR TE ——., _ TS — a ——— A TRI His keen intellectual penetration lad was as remarkable as was his contempt for number of assassinations and sudden deaths the fundamentals of morality. Like Lorenzo ’ . ; ‘ % The toleration of such a pontiff for a day is in itself a startling de’ Medici he has found many apologists : illustration of the possible degradation of religion when church and . ] 2 . state are united. Victor Duruy, in his ** History of Modern Times” but if anything fur ther than the facts that (p. 65), thus describes Alexander VI. and his son Cesare: * His he held u Ce ar B i : $ election was disgraced by the most flagrant simony, his pontificate by p Sare orga as an ideal prince, debauchery, cruelty and perfidy. He was not deficient, however, in that he fawned at the feet of the Medici. and skill and penetration. He excelled in council, and knew how to con- . . - . : ? , duct important affairs with marvellous address and activity. Itis mstilled the most diabolical philosophy mto true he always played with his word, but the Italy of that day held . integrity and good in exceedingly small esteem. Cesare Borgia was the minds of those unser upulous and corrupt handsome. educated and brave, but corrupt and evil, persuading t rants 1S : * * v everything he wished by the enchantment of his speech. He used y 2 needed to disillusionize those Ww ho hardly any weapon except lying, poison and the dagger. He med- have been led to admire him we have only to itated his blows calinly, took his time, and acted in silence ; no crime ‘ , 2 ? : was repugnant to him.” read his letters to Vettori. They describe 6 RR —— —y —-— a re ere —- 82 SOME FATAL FIGURES among other things the vulgar dissipation and low intrigues of the author with a realism which cannot fail to disgust all high-minded men and women, and confirm the opinion sug- gested by his other writings, that in his personal life as well as his habits of thought, he never took morality or good conduct into account, which is equivalent to saying tha’ his magnificent mental powers failed to lift him above the animal plane in thought and conception. I do not think that any one who, after reading the writings of Machia- velli’s apologists, will turn to the “ Age of Despots ” and patiently follow the most bril- liant and painstaking English historian of the Italian Renaissance, will fail to reach the conclusion arrived at by Mr. Symonds. Machiavelli represents a type present in all ages, but whose influence is most pro- nounced in a state of society which is sink- ing into insignificance through triumphant animalism. He and Benvenuto Cellini * are * Cellini was the greatest goldsmith of his age, an engraver and statuary of the first rank. He was, however, a reflector of his age rather than an original gerfius, and his mind seemed thoroughly de- void of ethical impulses, although he was an emotional religionist, and seemed to imagine that God was specially favoring him, even when thrusting the stiletto into the back of a foe. Cellini’s history OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 83 striking examples of gifted minds without sufficient moral strength to lift them above the plane of sensuous life. Characters so paradoxical remind one of bodies without souls. They may be endowed with brilliant intellects, as was Machiavelli ; they may possess rare artistic skill, as did Cellini; but their gifts, lacking the virility imparted by the presence of conscience, fail to raise them above the sensuous plane of those who live merely for self. This was quite marked in the life and writings of Machiavelli. To understand men of this character it is im- portant that we bear in mind the fact that their view of life and its ends, in so far as they stop to philosophize, is diametrically opposed to that entertained by men and women of conscience and conviction. Thus, of his own life is one of the most amazing autobiographies extant ; he records assassination, murder, and indulgence in the vices of the day without a shadow of compunction, and, indeed, seems to think that Providence was with him in his disgraceful and criminal acts. In many respects his life reminds one of the * Three Musketeers of Dumas, with this exception, Cellini never hesitates to resort to assassination and other acts of an infamous character, which Dumas makes intensely foreign to the character of his heroes. Cellini re- flected the intellectual ability, the versatility and the vices of his age ; he was unmoved by lofty genius, and religion in its true sense was a stranger to him, notwithstanding his ardent acceptation of the letter of dogmatic theology. His masterpiece was the bronze statue of Perseus. in Florence. 84 SOME FATAL FIGURES with Machiavelli, as Mr. Symonds so graph- ically points out: ~ «The ethics of this profound anatomist of human motives were based upon a convic- tion that men were altogether bad. The abrupt division of the realms of ethics and politics which he attempted was monstrous. From first to last he held to the proposition that the only permanent agencies in the government of man are calculating ability, resolution and the might of physical force. Ethics found no place in his political economy.” Nobleness, high-mindedness, honor, convie- tions of right—these were foreign to his political scheme. He was a timeserver, and though endowed with intellectual brilliancy and a penetration equalled by few scholars of his century, these failed him in his efforts to vise to the pedestal from which he had fallen, notwithstanding the ignoble means by which he sought to rise, or rather because of this unworthy conduct. His intellectual ability was untempered by political consist- ency or moral elevation.” Thus when fate threw him in a position where his peculiar OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 85 ability enabled him to satisfy the require- ments of the Republic of Florence, he ful- filled his duties in a manner highly satisfac- tory to the temper and spirit of the age. But when the Medici returned to power, and Machiavelli found himself disgraced and com- pelled to live in a frugal manner on his farm, he manifested the spirit of sycophancy which it would be impossible for a true patriot or a man of conscience to display. He fawned like a spaniel at the feet of his old enemaes, the enslavers of Florence, as will be seen from the following quotation from a letter written by Machiavell to Vettori, “ten months after he had been imprisoned and tortured by the Medici, and thirteen months after the republic he had served so long had been enslaved by the princes before whom he was now cringing 7: “I have talked with Filippo Casavecchi about this little work of mine, whether I ought to present it or not ; and if so, whether I ought to send or take it myself to him. 1 was induced to doubt about presenting it at all by the fear lest Giuliano should not even read it, and that this Ardinghelli should 86 SOME FATAL FIGURES profit by my latest labors. On the other hand, I am prompted to present it by the necessity which pursues me, seeing that I am consuming myself in idleness, and 1 cannot continue long in this way without becoming contemptible through poverty. IL wish these Signori Medici would begin to make some use of me, if it were only to set me to the work of rolling a stone. If IT did not win them over to me afterwards, I should only complain of myself. As for my book, if they read it, they would perceive that the fifteen years I have spentin studying state- craft have not been wasted in sleep or play ; and everybody ought to be glad to make use of a man who has so filled himself with ex- perience at the expense of others. About my fidelity they ought not to doubt. Hav- ing always kept faith, I am not going to learn to break it now. A man who has been loyal and good for forty-three years, like me, is not likely to change his nature ; and of my loyalty and goodness my poverty 1s suf- ficient witness to them.” A further insight into the character of Machiavelli is obtained from the dedi- OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 87 cation of “The Prince,” which runs as follows : “ Niccolo Machiavelli to the Magnificent Lorenzo, son of Pietro de’ Medici : Desiring to present myself to your magnificence with some proof of my devotion, I have not found among my various furniture aught that I prize more than the knowledge of the actions of great men acquired by me through a long experience of modern affairs and a continual study of ancient. These I have long and diligently revolved and examined in my mind, and have now compressed into a little book which I send to your magnificence. And though I judge this work unworthy of your presence, yet I am confident that your humanity will cause you to value it when you consider that I could not make you a greater gift than this of enabling you in a few hours to understand what I have learned through perils and discomforts in a lengthy course of years.” In the volume referred to it will be re- membered that he argues that the prince or tyrant should rule men “by caressing, or crushing.” The idea of “doing right be- —- a Se — Ec i Ea pa ol en NT —— 7 ED a sa 88 SOME FATAL FIGURES cause right is right, in scorn of conse- quences,” was something which might have called forth the smile of contempt, but could never enter into the philosophy, of a man who lived on Machiavelli’s plane of life and who had been schooled in the Italian politics of the Renaissance. Perhaps we cannot better obtain a glimpse of the intellectual atmos- phere which brought forth the thought of Machiavelli than by noting one of his sen- tences : “It is not necessary that a prince should be merciful, loyal, humane, religious, just; nay, I will venture to say that, if he had all these qualities and always used them, they would harm him. But he must seem to have them, especially if he be new in his principality, where he will find it quite impossible to exercise these virtues, since in order to maintain his power he will be often obliged to act contrary to humanity, charity, religion.” As before observed, in this book addressed to the reigning prince of a family who had more than once enslaved Florence, Machia- velli holds up as a model Cesare Borgia, the despot whose name is the synonym for igno- OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 89 miny, the ruthless prince who won by force and fraud, whose dissimulation was only matched by his cruelty. And it must be remembered that this work was not written for the general public ; it was a treatise, or handbook, by which the prince to whom it was addressed might crush freedom and set aside law. All through the work we see the pernicious doctrine of “the end justifying the means”; he praises Cesare Borgia’s perfidy, as we would extol the patriotism of Washington. It is a volume of remarkable strength, and well illustrates how a most brilliant intellect may be completely destitute of high-mindedness. It 1s only fair to observe, however, that Machiavelli in ¢ The Prince” reflected the political ideals of his age rather than created an original work. He was an historian be- fore he was a philosopher. He was a close observer, and knew how to generalize as well as specialize. His treatise, intended for the private perusal of a Medicean prince, illus- trates how readily a man without moral poise may turn from the service of liberty to that of tyranny. The cause of the republic which A bY Co SB RE itt © CL 90 SOME FATAL FIGURES had honored him possessed no interest for him when he hoped his lot might be bettered by his becoming the willing tool of absolut- ism, and his “Prince” shows that he was quite as ready to bring the wealth of his in- tellect to the cause of despotism as he would have been to continue to serve the republic. His personal aggrandizement and selfish comfort outweighed all other considerations. The real purpose of Machiavelli in writing the political masterpiece is in my judgment most admirably set forth by Mr. Symonds in this concise characterization of ¢ The Prince 7: ; ¢« Machiavelli was the first in modern times to formulate a theory of government in which the interests of the ruler are alone re- garded, which assumes a separation between statecraft and morality, which recogmzes force and fraud among the legitimate means of attaining high political ends, which makes success alone the test of conduct, and which presupposes the corruption, venality and baseness of mankind at large. “Tn the ¢ Principe’ it was not his purpose to write a treatise of morality, but to set a OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 91 forth with scientific accuracy the arts which he considered necessary to the success of an absolute ruler. We may, therefore, accept this essay as the most profound and lucid ex- position of the principles by which Italian statesmen were guided in the sixteenth century.” The pages of history afford few more impressive illustrations of the hopelessness of a character in which motives of self-in- terest instead of conscience form the main- spring of action. Such characters are never safe—the ring of artificiality sounds in their every deed. And what is true of an indi- vidual is true of a state, as the Italy which Machiavelli so vividly reflected bears wit- ness. Sincerity, justice, morality and in- tegrity are the only sound foundations for human character or human society, and whenever a life or a nation attempts to build on other foundations, that individual or state becomes a curse to civilization. Many people seem to overlook the fact that Machiavelli’s « Prince >’ was not written for the public. It was intended only for the eyes of the ambitious prince, who might ER an RRS 92 - SOME FATAL FIGURES. avail himself of the services of so consclence- less and astute a politician as could com- ose such a work. And it was not pub- lished until 1532—after the death of Machi- avelli. 1 have dwelt at length on Machiavelli and his most important political work because he stands out in so bold contrast to another great thinker and writer who, at the time when intellectual Italy was trying to get the Medici to read the ¢ Prince,” was writing a work which also treated of the philosophy of human government, but which was as unlike «The Prince” of Machiavelli as a dove is unlike a serpent. The Utopia” of Sir Thomas More was as diametrically opposed to “The Prince” as light is opposed to darkness. They were born of different thought-worlds—one was the child of darkness, the other the first-born of the dawn ; one was the offspring of egoism, its range of vision never above the level of intellectual animalism, the other was the flower of a prophet’s inspiration, the acorn from which the true social democracy shall one day spring. OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 93 “The Prince,” which Machiavelli held up as a model, miscarried in its design ; Machia- velli, notwithstanding his timeserving policy failed only less signally than did Conor Borgia. The “ Utopia” of More, though born far too early to blossom in the contiay which marked the tragic death of its author has been a beacon and an inspiration 6 noble souls since the day it was published. Machiavelli finished “The Prince” in the latter part of 1413. Sir Thomas More pub- lished his “ Utopia” in Flanders in 1416. It is a remarkable fact that these two con- crete expressions, one of the fatal philosophy of serfdom in human government, and the other of the redemptive social science of altruism, should have leaped almost simul- taneously from the thought-worlds of two great intellects. V.—SOME BRIGHT LIGHTS OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. Michael Angelo—A character sketch of the Jupiter of art's Olympus—The influence of Savonarola’s sermons and Danie S poems on Angelo’s work—The austere and colossal character of his ideals—His deeply religious character—A pen picture of Leonardo Da Vinci, the most versatile of the great geniuses of this period—Correggio, the Christian painter who w as “unconsciously a heathen ""—His great work—Raphael Sanzio, the most illustrious of painters—A child of the dawn~Com. parison between Angelo and Raphael—The wonderful power of the youthful artist only equalled by his untiring in- dustry—His early death—A brief characterization of the man and his work. A rEALIsT of the taste and power of Zola might have given us a picture of high Italian life \ during the Renais- 3 \ \ sance, which, though absolutely faithful in Nits portrayal, would \' have been too revolt- ing for perusal; while, on the other hand, an idealist who reso- lutely closed his eyes 94 MICHAEL ANGELO. BRIGHT LIGHTS OF THE RENAISSANCE. 95 to the criminality and sensuality of that age, could have penned a story enchanting as a dream of Eden. For at the time when a Bor- gia was Pope of Rome, when Savonarola was onthe rack, when the pledge of friendship was being followed by the dagger thrust, and when simplicity in life had given place to artificiality and refined sensualism, all Italy was blossoming with counterfeit present- ments of saints and Madonnas. It was dur- ing this time that Angelo, Da Vinei, Cor- reggio, Perugino, Alberti, Bramante, Titian, and Raphael wrought on canvas and in stone dreams and conceptions which made this period the golden age of art. And the idealist who chose to dwell only upon the beauty side of life might have given us a picture fair as Venice at sunrise. But the student of history cannot confine his view to a partial appearance ; he must examine society on all sides and weigh with con- scientious impartiality the influence exerted by master minds for good or ill, as well as take into consideration the politics and ideals which mould thought and shape civilization. 96 SOME BRIGHT LIGHTS We have already glanced at the Italy of this period and have noticed some of the fatal figures who have left their impress upon Italian life, and now we turn to the pleasing contemplation of such children of genius as Michael Angelo, the Jupiter of art’s Olympus; Correggio, who surpassed in the magic effects of light and shade; Da Vinei, the many-sided genius, a master in painting, skilled in anatomy, astronomy, mathematics and music, a sculptor and an architect of superior ability ; and Raphael the most illustrious of painters, who caught as did no other artist of his age the soul of expression—Raphael, who perceived the spirit of ancient Greece and called from the sepulchre the ideals of olden times, adding to them a peculiar, life-like charm not found in art before his day. Michael Angelo Buonarroti is among painters and sculptors what ZAischylus 18 among dramatists and Homer among poets. Prometheus and the demi-gods of the Iliad were familiar to his imagination. He was the exponent of the sublime and the terrible. Born at Caprese, March 6, 1475, he was OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 97 christened Michael Angelo.* He early manifested a passion for the arts, much to the vexation of his father. His early tutor alsois said to have been jealous of the genius of the boy ; and the outlook for his being able to realize the dream which filled his young brain seemed dark until Lorenzo de’ Medici’s attention was called to him. He interceded with the father, and took Michael Angelo # His name is said to have been given him on account of the ex- ceptionally propitious position of the planets at the time of his birth. Vasari, speaking of the favorable conjunctions at the mo- ment of Michael Angelo’s nativity, observes : * Mercury and Venus having entered with benign aspects into the house of Jupiter, in- dicated that marvellous and extraordinary work both ‘of manual art and intellect was to be expected of him.” Whether or not as- trological calcu.ations were responsible for his remarkable name is uncertain, but it must be remembered that at that period astrol- ogy held a high place in the estimation of many scholars, especially those of a scientific and speculative turn of mind. Jupiter hasever been regarded as the lord of ‘‘ honor and good fortune, the most powerful of the beneficent planets, and the author of temperance, modesty, sobriety and justice.” . (See William Lilly's * Introduc- tion to Astrology.””) Mercury is said to exert a special influence on the brain, quickening the intellectual faculties, but disposing the individual with his aspects to melancholy. Venus, on the other hand, exerts a mirthful influence. But as Mercury is peculiarly powerful in its effect on the mind, a person born under those two planets in strong positions would probably be sad rather than gay. Venus gives the love for art and beauty and the passion for painting ; as sculpture, philosophy. poetry, and oratory are said to hold great fascination for those strongly influenced by Mercury. It would seem from the positions of the planets and the views held by astrol- ogers in regard to their probable influence on the child's life, that if his father believed in astrology he might have felt that the heavens indicated a lofty destiny for the child who was christened Michael Angelo. SOME BRIGHT LIGHTS mto his household. Here the young artist enjoyed the society of the finest scholars of the age. Had he been morally weak the atmosphere of Lorenzo’s household would doubtless have proved injurious, if not ruin- ous. But Angelo was one of those austere or rugged Life al- \ most unconscious A of the seductive A influence of a re- % fined sensuality, which would prove the ruin of more yielding and ma- terial natures. He scorned arti- ficiality and saw no evil in the simplicity of nature. The nude human body awakened no prurient thoughts and called forth no vicious images in his mind. He saw that those who pretended to be shocked at the nude in art were fre- quently the most licentious in life, and he TITIAN. OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 99 rightly concluded that it was the depraved imaginations which were thus scandalized, or saw evil, where a high-born nature would see only beauty, strength and natu- ralness. ~The artist’s contempt for hypocrisy and the prurient imagination of pseudo moral- ists was well illustrated later in his life by an incident which occurred in connection with Angelo’s work on the Sistine Chapel. This masterpiece was conspicuous for the number of undraped human figures repre- sented. The mock modesty of a corrupt con- ventionalism was as much scandalized as were those who represented the spirit of rigid asceticism, which, though sincere, so frequently regards the noblest objects, as, for example, the human body, as vile, instead of discerning the important fact that the evil lies in a diseased imagination, and a vi- cious educational training which centres the mind on the plane of sensualism rather than in the region of soul-life where dwell pure love and genuine religion, and where flour- ishes true art, unfettered by conventionalism or the trammels of low ideals. The clamor 100 SOME BRIGHT LIGHTS against Angelo’s work came more from a depraved conventionalism than a narrow- visioned asceticism. Aretino, who de- lighted in depicting all kinds of unveiled im- purity, was much offended with the chaste nudity of true art.” Biagio, the master of ceremonies of Paul IIL, was greatly shocked, and made much ado over the un- draped figures. Angelo knew the man, and his fine contempt was shown when the Ro- man world thronged to the Sistine to see the ¢ Last Judgment.” Biagio was discovered in hell, and Angelo had embellished his por- trait with a pair of ass’s ears. The master of ceremonies appealed to the pope to have his picture taken from the great painting.” « Where has he placed you? ” inquired the pontiff. «Tn hell,” returned Biagio. « Oh!” exclaimed Paul, then I can do nothing for you. Had he placed you n * Qee * Renaissance in Italy,” Part III. The Fine Arts,” p. 426. 1 have quoted freely from the exhaustive and exceedingly able writing of Mr. Symonds, as he is the latest of the authoritative his- torians of the Renaissance. He has personally gone over the whole field. and has thrown into the work the enthusiasm and the best ef- forts of a brilliant thinker. He is. in my judgment, the most illus- trious and conscientious historian of the Italian Renaissance. OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 101 purgatory I could have removed you, but out of hell there is no redemption.” Angelo’s nudes may repel, but they will never degrade. They reflect the mind of the artist, of whom Mr. Symonds ob- serves : “Deep, philosophic thoughts, ideas;cf death and judgment, the stern struggles’ of thie soul, encompassed Michael Angslo. The service of beauty was with him a religion. His character was that of an austere sooul lican, free and solitary. Amid a multitude of slaves and courtiers Michael Angelo made art the vehicle of lofty and soul-speaking thought.” 4 Thus while, largely through the natural bent of his mind, Angelo failed to be mor- ally depraved by the environment in the house of Lorenzo, he received positive aids through association with the foremost Greek and Latin scholars of the age. His taste for art, poetry and literature was stimulated by personal contact with such men as Ficino, Poliziano, and Pico della Mirandola. But there was another individual, who probably more than all others influenced the life of 102 SOME BRIGHT LIGHTS the young sculptor, because there was a certain kinship between the thought-worlds or ideals of the two. Savonarola and An- gelo were both men of vivid imagination ; "both souls were haunted with visions as colossal as they were terrible. The sublime and the: dustere were as much at home mn their brains as was beauty the guest of Ra- ~ phael’s imagination. It 1s not strange, there- fore, that the thrilling sermons of Savonarola exerted a powerful influence over Michael Angelo, or that the awful pictures drawn by the eloquent and impassioned prophet-priest dwelt in the chambers of the young sculptor’s brain, until the hour came when in the Sis- tine Chapel he had an opportunity to give them outward expression in his august and solemn masterpiece. Anotherinfluence which may be considered as formative, largely due, however, to the peculiar bent of Angelo’s mind, was the poetry of Dante, which at a later period he studied for several months. The fact that Savonarola’s sermons and Dante’s poetry exerted so strange and fas- cinating a power over the mind of the sculp- tor enables us to understand how easy 1t was OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 103 for him to escape the contaminating immor- ality of his age. In 1496 Angelo went to Rome, where he wrought his Bacchus, and later his remark- able Madonna holding the dead Christ. In referring to this work, Mr. Symonds says : Here, while the Borgias were turning the Vatican into a den of thieves and harlots he [Angelo] executed the purest of all Nis statues—a Pieta in marble. Christ is lying dead upon His mother’s knees. With hes right arm she supports His shoulders ; her left hand is gently raised, as though to sa ‘Behold and see’ All that art on do make death beautiful and grief sublime is achieved in this work, which was never surpassed by Angelo in later years.” In 1501 the sculptor returned to Flor- ence, where, among other masterpieces, he wrought his “David,” and made the mem- Arable cartoon, strangely enough termed The Battle of Pisa.” In 1505 we find him again in Rome, where he received a commission to build for the pope a magnifi- cent mausoleum. The work, as conceived by the foremost genius of the age, would 104 SOME BRIGHT LIGHTS have been the most ¢ stupendous monument of sculpture in the world.” The project was doomed to failure, owing to the par- simoniousness and fickle character of the pope, who allowed himself to be preju- diced against Angelo, and owing also to the elaborate and colossal character of the work proposed by the sculptor. From 1508 to 1512 Angelo was engaged In the decoration of the Sistine Chapel. Of this immortal work, and of Angelo’s art mm general, Mr. Symonds observes : E « Entering the Sistine Chapel, and raising our eyes to sweep the roof, we have above us a long and somewhat narrow oblong space, vaulted with round arches, and covered from end to end, from side to side, with a network of human forms. The whole is colored like the dusky, tawny, bluish clouds of thunder-storms. There 1s no luxury of decorative art—no gold, no paint box of vermilion or emerald green has been lavished here. Sombre and aérial, like shapes condensed from vapor, or dreams begotten by Ixion upon mists of eve or dawn, the phantoms evoked by the sculptor OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 105 throng thatspace. Nine compositions, carry- ing down the sacred history from the crea- tion of light to the beginning of sin in Noah’s household, fill the central compart- ments of the roof. Beneath these, seated on the spandrels, are alternate prophets and sibyls, twelve in all, attesting to the future deliverance and judgment of the world by Christ. The intermediate spaces between these larger masses on the roof and in the lunettes of the windows swarm with figures, some naked and some draped—women and children, boys and young men, grouped in tranquil attitudes, or adapting themselves with freedom to their station on the curves and angles of the architecture. In these subordinate creations Michael Angelo deigned to drop the terrible style, in order that he might show how sweet and full of charm his art could be. The grace of coloring realized in some of those youthful and athletic forms is such as no copy can rep- resent. Every posture of beauty and of strength, simple or strained, that it is pos- sible for men to assume, has been depicted here. 106 SOME BRIGHT LIGHTS «To speak adequately of these form-poems would be quite impossible. Buonarotti seems to have intended to prove by them that the human body has a language inex- haustible in symbolism—every limb, every feature, and every attitude being a word full of significance to those who compre- hend, just as music is a language whereof cach note and chord and phrase has corre- spondence with the spiritual world. Itmay be presumptuous after this fashion to interpret the design of him who called into existence the heroic population of the Sistine. Yet Michael Angelo has written lies which 1m some measure justify the reading. This 1s how he closes one of his finest sonnets: ¢ Nor hath God deigned to show Himself elsewhere More clearly than in human forms sublime, ‘Which, since they image Him, compel my love.’ Therefore to him a well-shaped hand or throat or head, a neck superbly poised on an athletic chest, the sway of the trunk above the hips, the starting of the muscles on the flank, the tendons of the ankle, the outline of the shoulder when the arm 1s raised, the backward bending of the loins, OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 107 the curves of a woman’s breast, the contour of a body careless in repose or strained for action, were all words pregnant with pro- foundest meaning, whereby fit utterance might be given to the thoughts that raise man near to God. But, it may be asked what poems of action as well as feeling ire to be expressed in this form-language ? The answer is simple. Paint on ore the body of a man, and as you do it nobl, you will give the measure of both hi thought and most impassioned deed hi 1s the key to Michael Angelo’s art.” : Castelar, in his “Old Rome and New Italy,” thus characterizes Angelo’s Last Judgment and the effect which the work n tha Sistine Chapel produced upon him : Nature is but little represented in the Last Judgment ; Michael Angelo has onl depicted air and light. The planets are oo seen revolving majestically throuch space nor the sun dyed in gold and criti Aa the mountains rent in pieces, nor the uiig sea tossed in foaming waves by a terrible tempest—nothing of this: in the blue air mm the air alone, passes the awful sodtia OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 108 SOME BRIGHT LIGHTS 109 2 said, and when we call to mind his part of A bv human bodies and celes Dept wie J both the anger of the the work on St. Peter’s and other noble monu- tial clouds, and over bo : : : : ; ’ Lorrible, all rightful ments which bear the impress of his master Eternal. All appears hor 2 ® mind, we are able to conceive something of in that picture, as if no one could be saved, R ’ a g . 11s transcendent genius. so forcibly does terror dominate all other i 8 I es sentiments. Attention cannot be long con- is lo was singly. he y pase: us or centrated on the sublime. On feeling a versation Wri ed y ” garity. : fe C rofound emotion, the nerves are shaken oe a ey of Sone aith. a a of 118 rid the hain ds furrowed as if by an elec- e A 5 She a fo Se C . . ‘ tric shock. I felt my temples palpitate, a5 a For 41 un ma Rr 9 ahanaon ¢ the swelling veins were about to burst us. Men are Worth madre thon money. 1 5 ‘ o. thouohis ox And in one of his greatest sonnets, com- cited by that chapel, which comprehends De When us was ae 1ts eventic ¢, 11 of human life, from the creation to the he thus expressed his religious sentiments’: L tadoment I wanted air, and “Now hath my life across a stormy sea, universal ja gment. . C Like a frail bark, reached that wide port where went out to breathe 1t m the Roman Cam- all — ason Are bidden, ere the final reckoning fall . around whose ruins the lovely se pagna, aroun . Of good and evil for eternity. of April had flung her green and ge Now know I well how that fond phantasy mantle. But on turnmg, 1 beheld, in the Which made my soul the worshiper and thrall i { I i [ : Of earthly art is vain; how criminal I > ; a stu- : : ny it azure of the heavens, the outline of 1 Is that which all men seek unwillingly. i pendous work, over which floats the sou Those amorous thoughts which were so lightly l 3 . ry d d i joned the dome Gressed, of Michael Angelo, who des 8 . 1 d What are they when the double death is nigh ? | | of St Peter's, which appeared gildec an . The one I know for sure, the other dread. t : . ’ i | : Painting nor sculpture now can lull to rest Tewrd r ast ravs of the setting sun. g p gion ifiod by fe assy dwell 1 J rer ON My soul, that turns to His great love on high, It 1s impossible for me to dwell longe Whose arms to clasp us on the cross were the works of Angelo, but from what has been spread.” © ‘ ES SS 4 110 SOME BRIGHT LIGHTS « His old age was the serene and splendid evening of a toilsome day.” He died mm Rome, the city of his soul,” on the fifteenth of February, 1564, and was buried in Flor- ence, “ the city of his ancestry,” amid pomp and civie honors. " TLecnardo da Vinci, the most versatile of the great painters of his day, was the illegitimate son of a notary who lived at Vinci, near Flor- ence. He ranked among the great- est painters of the Renaissance, and until Angelo paint- ed the cartoon known as the <7 « Battle of Pisa,” Da ViNcr was considered by the Florentines as their greatest artist. BY an evil chance the finest artistic works of this master have been lost. His ¢ Last Supper,” as colored by Da Vinci on the walls of the convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie at Milan, OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 111 exists no longer. The outlines of the figures remain as the master drew them, but the col- oring of Da Vinci soon faded, and the vicis- situdes of time and the savagery of man seem to have conspired to ruin one of the greatest artistic works of the golden age of art. His great cartoon made in Florence, which was surpassed only by Angelo’s ¢ Battle of Pisa,” 1s also destroyed. Da Viner spent many years in Milan. He visited Rome when Pope Leo X. was in the papal chair, but find- ing Angelo and Raphael outranking him as _ painters, he left the city in disgust. He en- tered the service of Francis I., who was a patron of art and artists, and died in the service of that king in 1519. He left many valuable manuscripts. Had Da Vinei concentrated his genius on painting instead of interrogating every mys- tery that fell under his alert and curious gaze, he would probably have equalled Raphael and Angelo as painters, although his work would have been essentially different from theirs. His restless spirit, however, chafed within its narrow walls. He had caught the broader spirit of the times. The larger vis- 112 SOME BRIGHT LIGHTS jon of knowledge which fired Americus Ves- pucius and Magellan had touched his brain with its soul-disturbing influence. He may justly be termed the Interrogation Point of the Italian Renaissance. He caught glimpses of great scientific facts which were among the most important discoveries of a later day. On this point Hallam says: % «The discoveries which made Galileo, Kep- ler, Mzestlin, Maurolycus, Castelli, and other names illustrious, the system of Copernicus, and the very theories of recent geologists are anticipated by Da Vinei within the compass of a few pages—not, perhaps, in the most precise language or on the most conclusive reasoning, but so as to strike us with some- thing like the awe of preternatural knowl- edge.” ; Da Vinei was a passionate lover of music, and became a skilled performer. His lute was tuned according to “acoustic laws,” dis- covered by himself. He was the foremost anatomist of his time. He was ever sound- ing mysteries and turning from one field of research to another in quest of knowledge. * ¢ Introduction to the Literature of Europe.” OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 113 Of his inventive skill and the wide range of his investigations, Mr. Symonds says : ‘“ He invented machinery for water mills, an aqueduct, devised engines of war, projected new systems of siege artillery, designed build- ings, made plans for piercing mountains, draining marshes, clearing harbors. There was no branch of study whereby nature, through the efforts of the inquisitive intel- lect, might be subordinated to the use of man, of which he was not the master.” The thoughts, hints and suggestions of this many-sided man of genius were a con- stant inspiration to artists and students dur- ing his life, and doubtless his written treatises have proved helpful to many scientific stu- dents since his day. Antonio Allegri, known to the world by the name of his birthplace, Correggio, was born two years after the discovery of America, and at a moment when the subtle vibratory waves which sweep from brain to brain were luminous with intellectual stimulus, charged with artistic impulses, and freighted with hope and wonder. His taste for art was early dis- sernihle, and though we know almost nothing 114 SOME BRIGHT LIGHTS of his early youth, by the time he reached his twenty-first year he had completed his celebrated Madonna of St. Francis, now in the Dresden Gallery. In 1518, Correggio received an invitation to repair to Parma and execute some work for the abbess of the conventof San Paolo. The abbess apparent- ly had wearied of scriptural subjects ; . her fancy ran more \ to mythological . scenes, and her taste was shared by the rising young master. For Correggio never was so happy as CoRREGGIO. when, untrammelled by convention, he was able to let his fancy float with the dreams and legends of the mythological ages. “ He was,” says Dr. Julius Mayer, “innocently and unconsciously a heathen.” Over the fireplace of the dining- room of the abbess he painted, not a Virgin in ecstatic contemplation, but a superb picture OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 115 of Diana returning from the chase. The car of the goddessis moving at full speed, drawn by two white does ; her knees are bent in the act of springing into her seat; the wind catches her mantle ; her face is turned to- ward the spectator. Elsewhere throughout this room the decorations conform to this picture, which is the keynote of its orna- mentation. Later, Correggio received from the monks of the convent of San Giovanni the impor- tant commission to paint the cupola of their church. In treating this work, Correggio’s departure from conventional methods was as radical as the spirit of the painting was unlike the severe conceptions of earlier Christian painters. His fame was now so great in Parma that he received a commission to decorate the cathedral of that city. The result of this work was too unconventional to suit the Parmese, and it is said that the canons of the church had decided to have the painting effaced, when, according to an oft- repeated story, Titian happened to pass through Parma, in the suite of Charles V. He visited the cathedral, and was spellbound 116 SOME BRIGHT LIGHTS by the marvels of Correggio’s brush. The greatest of all colorists expressed his con- tempt for the opinion of those who were cry- ing out against this masterpiece by exclaim- ing, “If you had filled the dome with gold you would not have paid what it is worth.” This legend, like many connected with the work of Correggio, is however of doubtful authority, and is chiefly valuable as emphasiz- ing the fact that for years after his death only great artists fully appreciated a painter so bold and unconventional as Correggio. Of the artist and the characteristics of his work I cannot do better than give the follow- ing delightful summary by Mr. Symonds : “ Correggio is the Faun or Ariel of Renais- sance painting. Turning from him to Ra- phael, we are naturally first struck by the affinities and differences between them. Both drew from their study of the world the ele- ments of joy which it contains ; but the glad- ness of Correggio was more sensuous than that of Raphael ; his intellectual faculties were less developed ; his rapture was more tumul- tuous and Bacchantic. Like Raphael, Cor- reggio died young. In his work there was OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 117 nothing worldly: that divides him from the Venetian whose sensuousness he shared; nothing scientific: that distinguishes him from Da Vinci, the magic of whose chiar- oscuro he comprehended ; nothing contem- plative : that separates him from Michael An- gelo, the audacity of whose design in dealing with forced attitudes he rivalled, without apparently having enjoyed the opportunity of studying his works. The cheerfulness of Raphael, the wizardry of Leonardo, and the boldness of Michael Angelo met in him to form a new style, the originality of which is indisputable, which takes us captive—not by intellectual power, but by the impulse of emotion. “ Correggio created a world of beautiful human beings, the whole condition of whose existence 1s a radiant wantonness. Over the domain of tragedy he had no sway, nor could he deal with subjects demanding pregnancy of intellectual meaning. He paintsthe three Fates, for instance, like young and joyous Bacchantes ; if we placed rose garlands and thyrsi in their hands instead of the distaff and the thread of human destinies, they might 118 SOME BRIGHT LIGHTS figure upon the panels of a banquet chamber in Pompeii. “He was essentially a lyrical as distin- guished from an epical or dramatic poet. The unity of his work is derived from the effect of light and atmosphere, the inbreathed soul of tremulous and throbbing life, which bathes and liquefies the whole. It was enough for him to produce a gleeful symphony by the play of light and color, by the animation of his figures, and by the intoxicating beauty of his forms. His angels are genii disim- prisoned from the chalice of flowers, houris of an erotic paradise, elemental sprites of nature wantoning in Eden in her prime.” Correggio died on the 5th of March, 1534, at the age of forty. We now come to notice Raphael Sanzio, the most illustrious of painters. He was born in 1483, at Urbino. His father was an artist ; the son inherited a passion for art. He became the disciple of the beautiful. When only seventeen years of age he was a painter of marked ability, and from thence, during the score of years allotted him, he rose to the highest pitch of fame among the OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 119 world’s’ greatest painters. When one con- templates the life of Raphael a feeling of awe is inspired by the work accomplished by this fair young soul, whose marvellous breadth of vision was only equalled by intuitive in- sight and a per- fection of execu- tion at once be- wildering and awe- mspiring. He pos- sessed the power to assimilate, but was In no sense an imi- | tator. He appro- 3 priated the best from other mas- ters, and dowered that best with the wealth of his marvellous 1imag- RAPHAEL. ination. Herein is the possession of genius exemplified. Mediocrity copies and imitates without catching the soul behind the work or possessing the power to infuse the imert copy with the life born of a vivid imagina- tion. The play of Hamlet existed and had A) — Gr MP ——————— eS a wb TT So & aie Ser ror mts 120 SOME BRIGHT LIGHTS been played before it passed through the brain of Shakespeare, but it was not until the master genius of the dramatic world breathed into it the breath of life that it became one of the capital works in the hitera- ture of the ages. Angelo and Raphael were two of the greatest geniuses of any age. They were men of inexhaustible imagination, and as un- like as the eagle and the dove. Angelo’s mind mirrored the Titanic struggles of man- kind. He pictured the sterner side of life. Raphael was the apostle of the beautiful. Angelo dwelt on the height, and heard the wail of human misery; he saw the writhing of the human form on the rack and in the clutches of disease. Nay, more, the 1mag- ination of Savonarola and Dante, brooding over tragedies as colossal as they were m- possible, stimulated preternaturally the mind of Angelo. He stood above the abyss, with the imagery of Savonarola photographed on the retina of his eyes, the poetry of Dante sounding through his brain, his great, sad soul mantled in isolation. And lo! the things he had seen under the spell of the OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 121 eloquent monk and the dreams awakened by the great poet assumed form and haunted his brain until he gave them to the world. Raphael, on the other hand, was the prophet of the dawn. His fair face re- flected a nature at once cordial, open-hearted and high-minded. He was the child of Phebus, an idealist of the idealists. I be- lieve that he is known to have painted agony and death but once. His soul is always full of song. The horrors of war surround him; the marvellous stories of a new world are told to him; but he has no time to weep where tears will prove unavailing, or to become curious where curiosity will divert his mind from the multitude of rare visions of beauty which flood his brain, and which he longs to give to the world before he is summoned to another life. His brief life as an inde- pendent artist—scarcely a score of years in number—is divided into three periods, the Perugian, the Florentine and the Roman, each outshining its predecessor. Of him Mr. Symonds observes : “ He found in the world nothing but its 122 SOME BRIGHT LIGHTS joy, and communicated to his ideal the beauty of untouched virginity. He received from nature and from man a message un- spoiled by one discordant note. It was as though the spirit of young Greece lived n him again, purifying his tastes to perfection and restraining him from the delineation of things stern or horrible. His very person was the symbol of his genius. «The loveliness of Raphael was fair and flexible, fascinating not by power or mystery, but by the winning charm of open- hearted sweetness. To this physical beauty, rather delicate than strong, he united spir- itual graces of the most amiable nature. He was gentle, docile, modest, ready to oblige, free from jealousy, binding all men to him by his cheerful courtesy. In morals he was pure ; indeed, judged by the lax standard of those times, he might be called almost immaculate. His intellectual capac: ity, in all that concerned the art of paint- ing, was unbounded.” 3 "Of the breadth and catholicity of his thought, this author continues : «Tp the Vatican he covered the walls and OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 123 ceilings of the Stanze with historical and symbolical frescoes that embrace the whole of human knowledge. The cramping limits of ecclesiastical tradition are transcended. The synod of the antique sages finds a place beside the synod of the fathers and the company of saints. Parnassus and the allegory of the virtues front each other. The legend of Marsyas and the mythus of the Fall are companion pictures. A new catholicity, a new orthodoxy of the beau- tiful appears. The Renaissance in all its breadth and liberality of judgment takes ideal form. The brain has guided the hand throughout, and the result 1s sterling poetry. The knowledge, again, expressed in many of his frescoes is so thorough that we wonder whether in his body lived again the soul of some accomplished sage.” Next to his marvellous genius nothing has excited the wonder of art students more than the number of his works and the excel- lence which characterized them. It has been said that his unflagging industry has never been surpassed ; and thisis all the more remarkable when we remember that his 124 SOME BRIGHT LIGHTS greatest works, and the largest number, were produced in a city of wealth, luxury and licentiousness, where every possible temptation was thrown in the way of a sus- ceptible youth. That he could thus work in the midst of luxury and license is in 1t- self a magnificent tribute to the strength of his character. He died on the anniversary of his birth, April 6, 1520. The circle of his short life was complete, though 1t measured but thirty- seven years, not quite a score of which had been spent as an independent workman. And yet such were his industry and genius that during those brief years he created so many immortal works of art that, had they been the result of fourscore years, civili- zation would have regarded his life as markedly fruitful. Behind the hand which wielded Raphael’ brush was the tireless brain of a genius which seemed instinctively to know that its stay on earth was destined to be short, and that, therefore, the mar- vellous visions which crowded the chambers of his soul must be given to man without delay. OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 125 The news of the artist's death created a profound sensation throughout Rome. The city was thrown into sincere mourning. He was loved by all save a few jealous natures among his rivals. He had done more than any other man to restore to Rome her ancient glory. He was a sincere and devout Catho- lic, and his art treasures wrought for the church were indeed children of his love as well as the offspring of his genius. He was a courtly, refined nature, an idealist and a dreamer who shrank from harsh words or ungenerous deeds. Hence the civic pride felt by the Romans in the possession of the most illustrious of painters, the deep attach- ment cherished by the truly patriotic owing to his labors for the restoration of Rome to her former architectural glory, the unfeigned admiration entertained for him by the zeal- ous Catholic due to his devotion to the Roman Church, the sincere affection of those associated with him inspired by his gener- ous-hearted, kind and genial nature. These influences combined to make Raphael almost universally loved in Rome, and his death was felt as a personal loss in thousands of nisin tists She en OAT PG er A RA Ea . ny pr . hh Em N 126 SOME BRIGHT LIGHTS homes. Count Castiglione wrote to his mother, “It seems to me 1 am no more in Rome since my poor dear Raphael 1s not here.” Thousands of citizens followed his body to the Pantheon. Rome felt what almost all Raphael's bi- ographers have expressed—that 1t was a cruel fate which thus cut off a glorious child of genius before he had reached the meridian of early manhood. I confess 1 cannot share this view. At the time of his death Raphael had accomplished more in the way of great works of art than any contemporary. He was a child of the morning. His fine, sweet nature never felt the blasts and crushing blows which beat around and fall upon most of those sons of God we call geniuses. His was a May-day life from birth to death, but it was not spent as are most May-day lives. There was never a moment when Raphael did not seem impressed with the urgent de- mands imposed upon him by the Eternal. His genius drove him on. Neither wealth, the indolence of those around him, the praise of the great, nor the sycophancy and flattery of the small seduced him from his arduous OF THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE, 127 tasks. His was a nature which shrank from even the contemplation of pain and anguish. His soul recoiled from the tragedies of life. After he had wrought so nobly and so bountifully, after he had given to earth more immortal art treasures than even Ti- tian, though the latter lived almost a cent- ury, it was a kind fate that allowed him to depart before Rome was sacked and pil- laged. He had loved the Eternal City with a passion rarely equalled in the history of patriotic devotion. He had not only adorned her with his noblest works of art, but his most ardent desire was to be able to restore her ancient glory. One who under- stands a nature so finely strung that the mind recoils from the slaughter of human lives, and from pain and misery in any form, and at the same time loves the creations of art as if they were things of life, can easily appreciate with what horror he would have witnessed the sacking of Rome, with its at- tendant brutalities, and what to him would have been the ruthless profanation of that which was sacred. I repeat it was a kind fate which permitted him to depart while his 198 BRIGHT LIGHTS OF THE RENAISSANCE. fame was at its zenith, while love lighted up his pathway and the sun shone on his child- soul. I have selected these four typical charac- ters from the brillant coterie whose marvel- lous attainments in art filled all Ttaly with glory and made this period the golden age of painting. They were the most luminous expressions of a spirit which seemed to brood over the peninsula, touching and illuminating the artistic impulses of scores of gifted men. They represent the high lights of this cent- ury, as Lorenzo de’ Medici, Alexander VI. (Cesare Borgia, and Machiavelli represent the darker shadows. They belonged to the dy- nasty of genius. They were high priests of true art, and in their chosen spheres revealed to what heights the soul of man might soar, thereby giving us a glimpse of what human- ity may become when man shall grow rational enough to rise above passion ; when he shall become great enough to appreciate the mys- terious promptings of his higher self; when the tiger, the hyena, the serpent and the vulture in the human brain shall be subdued by an awakened and emancipated soul. VI.—THE SPANISH PENINSULA DURING THE CENTURY OF SIR THOMAS MORE. The awakening on the physical side of life—The greed for gold and blind and fanatical religious persecution—The fall of Granada and the reéstablishment of the Inquisition—Appall- ing picture of the tragic fate of the Jews and others who came under the ban—Columbus discovers the New World—Cortez conquers Mexico—Magellan’s fleet circumnavigates the earth —The colossal figure of Albuquerque and his pathetic end— General observations on the Spanish Peninsula of this century. TuE same cause or combination of causes may awaken widely different sen- timents in different individuals, even ap- AW pealing to entirely [A . . \ different planes of I being mn their organ- isms. And this fact is equally true of nations and civiliza- SOLEASYS tions. What may appeal to the scientific spirit or the ethical 9 129 130 SPANISH PENINSULA DURING THE and religious impulses of a sturdy, sincere and simple people, may find a response in the artistic and esthetic sentiments of a nation older in its civilization and some- what enervated by great wealth; while a third people may receive the same great thought waves and come in touch with the same moving causes with the result that an inordinate desire for wealth follows— a desire for gain which can give power and the gratification of the sense percep- tions. It is a noteworthy fact that the causes which led to the Renaissance in a way awak- ened these widely different impulses and desires. Thus, as we have seen, north of the Alps, especially among the German and English peoples, ethical, religious, and philo- sophical sentiments were awakened. All for spiritual and scientific truth, or the eternal verities of the Universe,” became the watchword. South of the Alps a passion for art predominated. ¢ All for Beauty,” was the keynote of Italian thought; and in Florence, Rome, Venice, Milan, Parma and other cities of the peninsula, painting, CENTURY OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 131 sculpture and architecture blossomed as never before. To the westward the physical ideal seems to have exerted a predominating influence. Riches, the gold of the Indies—this was the magnet which furnished the money for Columbus and nerved the Portuguese to weather the Cape of Good Hope. Discovery for possession and commerce, for the power and gratification which gold could yield— these thoughts filled the horizon of many minds. Wealth meant splendid homes, mag- nificent villas, the gratification of appetites, the mastery of man, and, through this, further license. Another side of man’s nature which blazed forth more balefully on the Spanish Peninsula than anywhere else during this period was the spirit of savage brutality born of greed for gain, min- gled with a low and degraded conception of religion. The conquest of Granada, the overthrow of one of the most remark- able civilizations the world has known, and the reduction of vast acres of highly cultivated gardens to arid plains was the glorious (?) work which won the title of a a ia A 7 A ero. 132 SPANISH PE! JINSULA DURING THE «the Catholic’ for Ferdinand and Isa- bella. But it was not until the resstablishment of the Inquisition under the reign of these rulers that Europe beheld that example of the triumphant tiger in man, which by its con- tagion infected western civilization, and turned more than one Christian nation into a field of slaughter. There is nothing so dangerous as a dogmatic religion in the hands of a savage and brutal people. It crushes out all the divine impulses; it over- throws reason and freezes the sweet humani- tarian impulses which link civilized man to man ; it awakens in human beings the hyena, the tiger and the serpent. It aneesthetizes the soul; it fills the mind with the conviction that the belief the fanatic holds is the truth, and being the truth, that all persons holding different views should be—-convinced by reason? Oh no! the religious bigot has a horror of reason. The rack, the stake, the dungeon—this method of dealing with an opponent 1s much more convenient. When the majority of the people of a community Lelieve the tenets of a dogmatic creed, and CENTURY OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 15: their education has been along the lines of physical and intellectual attainments rather than moral excellence, the man who has a sublime mission is pretty certain to meet a tragic end. Socrates is given hemlock ; Joan of Arc is sent to the stake ; Galileo 1s com- mitted to the dungeon; Bruno 1s doomed to the flames; Harvey suffers professional ostracism ; Roger Williams is banished. Now it was during the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella that, for the riches to be gained by confiscation and murder, and for the glory of the Roman Church, the dial of civilizition was turned backward, and the church entered upon a campaign of merciless torture and savage slaughter which eclipsed the persecu- tion of all other religions in the history of civilization. © Of the opening act of this appalling tragedy, Mz. Symonds observes : “The Inquisition was established in Spain in 1478 for the extermination of Jews, Moors and Christians with a taint of heresy. Duwr- ing the next four years two thousand victims were burned in the Province of Castile. In Seville a plot of ground called the Quemadero, or place of burning—a new Aceldama—was 1384 SPANISH PENINSULA DURING THE set apart for executions ; and here in one ~ year two hundred heretics were committed to the flames, while seventy-nine were condemned to perpetual imprisonment and seventeen thou- sand to lighter punishments of various kinds. In Andalusia alone five thousand houses were at once abandoned by their inhabitants. Then followed, in 1492, the celebrated edict against the Jews. Before four months had expired the whole Jewish population were bidden to leave Spain, carrying with them nothing in the shape of gold or silver. To convert their property into bills of exchange and movables was their only resource. The market speedily was glutted ; a house was given for an ass, a vineyard for a suit of clothes. Vainly did the persecuted race en- deavor to purchase a remission of the sen- tence by the payment of an exorbitant ran- som. Torquemada appeared before Ferdi- nand and his consort, raising the crucifix, and crying, ¢ Judas sold Christ for thirty pieces of silver ; sell ve Him for a larger sum, and account for the same to God!’ “The exodus began. Kight hundred thou- sand Jews left Spain,—some for the coast of CENTURY OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 135 Africa, where the Arabs ripped their bodies up in search for gems or gold they might have swallowed, and deflowered their women ; some for Portugal, where they bought the right to exist for a large head-tax, and where they saw their sons and daughters dragged away to baptism before their eyes. Others were sold as slaves, or had to satisfy the ra- pacity of their persecutors with the bodies of their children. Many flung themselves into the wells, and sought to bury despair in sui- cide. The Mediterranean was covered with famine-stricken and plague-breeding fleets of exiles. Putting into the port of Genoa, they were refused leave to reside in the city, and died by hundreds in the harbor. Their fes- tering bodies bred a pestilence along the whole Italian seaboard, of which at Naples alone twenty thousand persons died. Flit- ting from shore to shore, these forlorn spec- tres, the victims of bigotry and avarice, every- where pillaged and everywhere rejected, dwindled away and disappeared. Meanwhile the orthodox rejoiced. Pico della Mirandola, who spent his life in reconciling Plato with the Cabala, finds nothing more to say than 136 SPANISH PENINSULA DURING THE this: ¢ The sufferings of the J ews, mn Tl the glory of the Divine justice delighte : were so extreme as to fill us Christians with commiseration.” With these words we may compare the following passage from So rega: ‘The matter at first sight oe praiseworthy, as regarding the honor done to our religion ; yet it involved some amount of cruelty, if we look upon them, not 2 beasts, but as men, the handiwork of Sh . Thus Spain began to devour and depopulate herself. The curse which fell upon the Jew and Moor descended next upon philosopher and patriot. The very life of the nation, 1n its commerce, its industry, 1ts free i its energy of character, was deliberately anc steadily throttled.” * a ; The savagery of the Inquisition, or the wholesale slaughter which at this time began the enactment of the supreme tragedy of Western civilization, whereby © Pas opened a vein and let out her best bloo 5 belongs to man on the physical and anima 1 11 ‘hich actuated plane. The blind fanaticism which ac : it 1s on a par with the fanaticism of the x « Age of Despots,” by J. Addington Symonds. CENTURY OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 137 worshipper of Moloch and the cruel religious rites of some of the mostsavage tribes. The spirit 1s essentially the spirit of the pit ; it extinguishes reason and drugs conscience ; and when we find a soul thus debased, it is all one whether we call him Nero or Sixtus VI.,* whether we call him Domitian or Fer- dinand. Moreover, man is not sufficiently civilized to render it safe for him to gaze upon blood ; in him as in the lion it awakens a sanguinary thirst; and the memories of all that he has been flying from for ages come before him so vividly that he turns from reason and philosophy, and, drowning the finer and diviner voices of his being, becomes a persecutor and possibly a murderer. Tt is doubly sad to remember that ‘such degra- dation of manhood is usually accomplished under the name of religion. t * Sixtus VI. authorized the reestablishing of the Inquisition in Spain in 1478. t+ We must not flatter ourselves with the vain belief that we have outgrown the savage impulse. Those who belong to the American Sabbath Union, and: others who are busily engaged in the absurd attempt to resurrect the Puritan Sabbath, are in spirit the legiti- mate successors of Torquemada and Alva. These fanatics have recently had high-minded and sincere men and women, who find a warrant in their Bible to worship God on Saturday and not on Sun- day, imprisoned for keeping the Sabbath instead of Sunday as a religious day ; and in numerous ways they are displaying the sama 138 SPANISH PENINSULA DURING THE While Spain was making preparations I commit hara-kirl at a time: when, had she been less brutal and avaricious, she might have become the leader of the world s civili- sation and the most powert ul nation on earth, Portugal was forging to the front as a na of great importance; she had become he Pheenicia of the age. The stars of Venice and Genoa were setting ; that of Lisbon was rising resplendent in glory. Thos city Md become a commercial metropolis. The Medi- terranean was no longer large enough for man ; besides, the Ottoman conquests Ko paralyzed the Eastern commerce of the Wes - ern states. Portugal dreamed of nis India by an untrodden path. She had Bane trading posts in Africa; her capital city ha become a metropolis for barter ; she had es- tablished schools for seamanship ; her people gazed upon the Atlantic, and great i hopes and dreams beat tumultuous in their s breasts. ol To Lisbon came Columbus, as naturally a oreat artist of that age would have gone > =C = y J ch savage Spir it w hich mar ked the earl shado ws of the night whi put out the day of the Renaissance. asm CENTURY OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 139 to Florence, or a religious enthusiast to Rome. Lisbon looked out upon the West, upon im- mensity, mystery and the future. Columbus appealed to Don John II. Had he been less grasping, it 1s probable he would have been heeded, but avariciousness and lust for power were two weaknesses of Don John, and Co- lumbus demanded rich rewards in treasure and great power in return for what he pro- posed to do for the king. The king was covetous and greedy ; he was, moreover, jeal- ous of the royal prerogative. It was not in accordance with his policy to bestow either wealth or power upon his servants. He de- clined the offer, and Columbus departed for the court of Ferdinand and Isabella, where he was compelled to wait until Granada, the stronghold of the Moors, flanked by more than a thousand towers, and containing a population of over two hundred thousand people, surrendered. At length Columbus won his suit. The islands of the new world were discovered October 11, 1492, and Co- lumbus returned triumphant. The discoverer Columbus was followed by the soldier Cortez, who emphasized the sav- 140 SPANISH PENINSULA DURING THE age spirit always possible when man dwells on the animal plane. His atrocities form one of the darkest pages in history. In15 13 Balboa crossed the Isthmus of Panama and looked upon the mirror-like surface of the Pacific. In 1519 Magellan, a Portuguese mar- iner in the employ of the Spanish crown, attempted the circumnavigation of the world. October 21, 1520, he sailed through the strait which bears his name. Six months later he approached the Philippine Islands, where he perished in combat with the natives. His squadron, however, continued 1ts course under the command of Magellan’s lieutenant, arriving 1n Spain after having circumnavi- gated the globe in eleven hundred and twenty-six days. While Spain was acquiring a new world Portugal had reached the treasure-house of India, and was reaping a rich commercial harvest such as Venice and Genoa in the days of their supremacy had enjoyed. On the 8th of July, 1497, Vasco de Gama put out from Lisbon with four frail barks in quest of the Indies; he sailed around Cape of Good Hope, landing at Mozambique and Ey fo 7 CENTURY OF SIR TIIOMAS MORE. 141 Monbaga. Thence he crossed the Indian Ocean, reaching the city of Calicut May 20, 1498. He returned to Portugal to confirm in part the wonderful stories of the East long before related by Marco Polo. He pointed out the supreme opportunity of Portugal to acquire a trade of immense importance, a fact which the government appreciated and acted upon with that vigor and celerity which contributed so largely toward making this little nation the commercial queen of the age. D’Almeida was dispatched to India as viceroy, and after earning a great victory and « establishing by brute force and cunning the claims of Portugal, he was supplanted in his office by Albuquerque, the most illustrious of Portuguese warriors. By the capture of Socotra and Ormuz he closed the routes to India of the Venetians and Mussulmans. To the demand made by the shah of Persia for indemnity for closing the route by way of Ormuz, Albuquerque led the envoy to a heap of bullets, pointing to which he made the bold reply, « That is the kind of money with which the king of Portugal pays his tribute.” 142 SPANISH PENINSULA DURING THE Hearing that a Venetian fleet had been taken to pieces at Cairo and transported by camels across the desert, he made haste to destroy the vessels before the owners had an oppor- tunity of reaching the Indian Ocean. Albuquerque conquered Goa and made it the capital of Portuguese India. Next he subdued Malacca, after which he gained for Portugal an entrance to Oceanica. His brain was filled with vast schemes for the advance- ment of his native land, one being the turn- ing of Egypt into a desert by draining the Nile into the Red Sea. He also desired to destroy Mecca and Medina in retaliation for the taking of J erusalem and Constantinople = by the Mohammedans. It will be observed that in this so-called Christian age retaliation and brute force seemed to completely obscure the teachings of the founder of Christianity ; but, in justice to Albuquerque be it said, he was one of the few conquerors of this age who were respected and loved by the con- quered ; long after his death the East Indians were wont to go to his tomb and pray for protection against the cruelty and inhumanity of his successors. CENTURY OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 143 He was too great a man not to arouse the jealousy and apprehension of his king; hence it is not surprising that he died poor and in disgrace. There 1s something very pathetic in the spectacle of this colossal figure, who had given Portugal one of the most splendid empires of the world, crying out in the midst of his poverty, neglect and dis- grace, “ To the tomb, worn-out old man; to the tomb!” He died in the year 1515, at the age of seventy-two. After Albuquerque, Soares made several important conquests, Ceylon being among the number. In speaking of the wonderful achievements of Portugal during this period, Jean Victor Duruy observes: «tis difficult to conceive how in less than half a century a people so small, in spite of so furious and numerous oppositions, could cover with its factories or dominate by its fortresses a coastline of four thousand leagues. But we must realize to what degree the love of lucre was excited by this com- mercial revolution, and what patriotic and religious heroism animated the first colonists of India. Gama, Cabral, Albuquerque and SS ST NC Ae I DRT 144 SPANISH PENINSULA DURING THE John de Castro believed themselves the armed apostles of civilization and faith.” It will be seen that at the time when Italy was giving the world the most glorious art treasures humanity had ever beheld ; while her sons were enjoying the ideals and poetry and philosophy of ancient Greece ; while the wonder-stories of Marco Polo were stimulat- ing the imagination rather than the hands ; while the mysticism of India and that of the ancient church were subtly permeating the thought of some of her metaphysical think- ers, and while north of the Alps the moral, religious and scientific spirit was wonderfully active ; at the time when the influence of the printing press was beginning to be felt; when Copernicus was formulating his theory ; when Erasmus, Colet, and More were dream- ing of a purified church ; when Luther, Zwingli, and Calvin were unconsciously pre- paring to buckle on their arms for the great- est religious reformation Christian Europe had known, and when More was penning his vision of a truer civilization, the Spanish Peninsula had awakened on the side of ma- terial prosperity, and had accomplished the oreatest commercial revolution in the history CENTURY OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 145 of the race. Spain had given to Europe a new world of undreamed-of extent, and her ships had circumnavigated the globe. Por- tugal, after dotting the coast of Africa with factories, trading-posts and fortresses, had opened as never before the door of Asia to the commerce of Western civilization, and had established communication from Lisbon and the coast nations, by way of Cape of Good Hope, to Japan. Very marked and interesting is the three- fold awakening of this century. Thus, as has been observed, the multitudinous voices of the time appealed irresistibly to the es- thetic and artistic impulses of the Italians, to the moral and scientific spirit of the more sturdy people north of the Alps, while among the energetic but cruel and selfish people of the Spanish Peninsula, the lust for power and the greed for gold, mingled with a devotion to dogmatic theology, as savage as it was blind, as intense as it was unreasoning, fur- nished the motor power for the wonderful and, in many instances, terrible deeds which shed glory and gloom over the Spain and Portugal of this century. 10 Si —— —— A TT as al Se — st Lr VII.—_THE FRANCE OF THIS PERIOD. The moral and intellectual awakening of the German People—The artistic enthusiasm of Italy and something of the spirit of the Spanish Peninsula permeated the France of this day ; though, while reflecting all in a manner, she failed to lead in any direc- tion—John Calvin and Rabelais the two great intellects of the France of this century—A pen picture of Rabelais—Victor Hugo's characterization of the great satirist. I HAVE pointed out the intellectual quicken- ing of the German people, during the cent- ury we are considering, which expressed itself in many significant ways, notably in the scientific discoveries of Copernicus, and in the invention of the printing press,” and which still more remarkably displayed a wonderful awakening on the moral and re- ligious side of life; an awakening which soon assumed giant-like proportions, culminating in the Reformation. This great movement, which followed close upon the heels of the new learning, affected the Teutonic mind * To be strictly correct, the invention of the printing press was made a few years before this century opened. But the first printed Bible was not published until after the century opened, and it was several years before the world felt the intellectual impulse given by the multiplication and the cheapening of books. 146 THE FRANCE OF THIS PERIOD. 147 almost as profoundly as did the artistic 1m- pulse dominate the soul of the Italian life of that day. We have noticed the social con- ditions of Italy and observed the strong lights and shadows which gave to Roman life during the Renaissance an exaggerated and unnatural aspect. We have furthermore noticed in the Spanish Peninsula the savage persecutions and religious intolerance which led to the reéstablishment of the Inquisition, and the wonderful commercial activity which resulted in the discovery of America, the subjugation of a large portion of the new world and the circumnavigation of the globe on the part of Spain, and the discovery of a route to the East by way of Cape of Good Hope and the conquests in India by Portugal. And now I wish to notice for a moment France, which was bounded by the lands which underwent this threefold awidkening. We shall find that this nation felt, and in a limited way responded to, the various im- pulses which dominated the three peoples referred to. Calvin's voice took up the pro- test of Luther, and in a short time had so alarmed the church by the great number of 148 THE FRANCE OF THIS PERIOD. converts, that it began to imitate the cruel, persecuting spirit of the Spain of this period, and Calvin was exiled from France. But subserviency on the part of Francis I. to the savage spirit of the church was not suf- ficiently pronounced to secure the destruc- tion of Rabelais, the most original genius which France gave to this century, a thinker whose influence against the corruption of ecclesiasticism ably seconded the work so effectively carried on by Erasmus in open- ing the eyes of the people, capable of inde- pendent thinking, to the evil conditions ~ around them, and especially to the supersti- tious ignorance and vice of the monks of that age. Rabelais was educated for a monk. His early lot seems to have been very much like that of Erasmus. He joined the order of the Franciscan monks, but becoming dis- gusted with “the monkish system in the de- based form in which it existed in his time,” he quitted the order without the permission of his superior. Later he received pardon from the pope for the violation of his vows. Afterward it appears he joined the Benedic- THE FRANCE OF THIS PERIOD. 149 tine Order, which he subsequently abandoned and became a secular priest. He passed through the medical university at Montpel- lier, and later taught and practised the healing art. His fame, however, rests on his great satirical works, which assailed the brutal educational system of his time, and the superstition and debauchery of the monks of his age, with a terrible #itire that cut as a two-edged sword. His works were con- demned by the clergy, and had he not been shielded by Francis I., he doubtless would ‘have suffered the fate of a martyr. His’ writings, while evincing great genius, so great indeed as to place him among the world’s first thinkers, are marred by a coarse- ness, and to us a vulgarity, in ideal and ex- pression, which, while probably, as is claimed, in no way foreign to the ordinary popular French literature of his time, are revolting to present-day civilization. On this point, Mr. Saintsbury, in the Encyclopaedia Britan- nica, observes: “ His coarseness, disgusting as it 1s, has nothing of refined voluptuous- ness about it, and nothing of the sniggering indecency which disgraces men like Pope, GRR Briar 148 THE FRANCE OF THIS PERIOD. converts, that it began to imitate the cruel, persecuting spirit of the Spain of this period, and Calvin was exiled from France. But subserviency on the part of Francis I. to the savage spirit of the church was not suf- ficiently pronounced to secure the destruc- tion of Rabelais, the most original genius which France gave to this century, a thinker whose influence against the corruption of ecclesiasticism ably seconded the work so effectively carried on by Erasmus in open- ing the eyes of the people, capable of inde- pendent thinking, to the evil conditions ~ around them, and especially to the supersti- tious ignorance and vice of the monks of that age. Rabelais was educated for a monk. His early lot seems to have been very much like that of Erasmus. He joined the order of the Franciscan monks, but becoming dis- gusted with “the monkish system in the de- based form in which it existed in his time,” he quitted the order without the permission of his superior. Later he received pardon from the pope for the violation of his vows. Afterward it appears he joined the Benedic- THE FRANCE OF THIS PERIOD. 149 tine Order, which he subsequently abandonee and became a secular priest. He passed through the medical university at Montpel- lier, and later taught and practised the healing art. His fame, however, rests on his great satirical works, which assailed the brutal educational system of his time, and the superstition and debauchery of the monks of his age, with a terrible #atire that cut as a two-edged sword. His works were con- demned by the clergy, and had he not been shielded by Francis I., he doubtless would have suffered the fate of a martyr. His writings, while evincing great genius, s0 great deed as to place him among the world’s first thinkers, are marred by a coarse- ness, and to us a vulgarity, in 1deal and ex- pression, which, while probably, as is claimed, in no way foreign to the ordinary popular French literature of his time, are revolting to present-day civilization. On this point, Mr. Saintsbury, in the Encyclopaedia Britan- nica, observes: ¢ His coarseness, disgusting as it 1s, has nothing of refined voluptuous- ness about it, and nothing of the sniggering indecency which disgraces men like Pope, 150 THE FRANCE OF THIS PERIOD. Voltaire and Sterne.” Of Rabelais, Cole- ridge says: ¢ He was among the deepest as well as boldest thinkers of his age. * * * I class Rabelais with the great creative minds, Shakespeare, Dante and Cervantes.” Guizot observes that there is scarcely a question of importance that is not touched upon in his books. The corruption of the clergy 1s de- nounced in the strongest terms; the rights of conscience, the futility of the logomachies to which scholasticism had finally degraded itself, the defects of absolute government, the necessity of educational reform—all these points are discussed by Rabelais with an amount of originality which is only equalled by the uniqueness of his style and the genial character of his wit. : I have dwelt at length on Rabelais, as he was one of the most original thinkers of this wonderful age, and because he, like Eras- mus, exerted a very positive influence 1n awakening the masses to the frightful de- bauchery of the age, though his method was essentially different from that of Krasmus, and the very opposite of that employed by the reformers. Being a satirist, he was d THE FRANCE OF THIS PERIOD. 151 naturally enough misunderstood by many ; but this fact did not prevent his work from awakening the people to whom it appealed to the degradation and brutality of his time. Victor Hugo thus characterizes Rabelais : “Here 1s a greater than Aristophanes, for Aristophanes is bad—Rabelais is good—Ra- belais would have defended Socrates. In the order of lofty genius Rabelais chronologically follows Dante. After the stern face the sneering visage. Rabelais is the formidable mask of ancient comedy detached from the Greek proscenium ; from bronze made flesh. Henceforth a human, living face; remaining enormous, and coming among us to laugh at us and with us. Dante and Rabelais spring: from the school of the Franciscan Friars, as later Voltaire springs from the Jesuits. Dante, the incarnate Sorrow ; Rabelais, Par- ody; Voltaire, Irony. These issue from the Church against the Church.” Had Francis I. been more of a bigot and less a scholar, it would have fared ill with Rabelais. But the French king had come under the influence of the new learning. He was a patron of culture and art, and 152 THE FRANCE OF THIS PERIOD. what is more, he was intelligent enough to recognize the ability of a genius like Rabelais. He also knew that it was the unmasking of corruption which caused the monks to smart under the graphic pen pictures of the great satirists. Francis welcomed to France and his court scholars and artists. Here it was that Da Vinci spent the closing years of his tempestuous life. There are many evidences that the spirit of Italy influenced Francis ‘more than that of Germany or Spain. His interest in culture was genuine. Paris ac- corded a hospitable reception to the new learning as early as 1458. But it 1s a fact worthy of note that France did not distin- guish herself in a marked degree in any direction which boldly characterized this age, although she produced two of the greatest intellects of the century—Rabelais and Cal- vin. On her east and north the influence of the New Learning was followed by the tempestuous storm of the Reformation. On the southeast, the sunburst of art, the sum- mer age of belles-lettres, and poetry ; on the southwest, intolerance and savage bigotry, coupled with the greatest commercial rvevolu- THE FRANCE OF THIS PERIOD. 153 tion the world has ever witnessed. Her borders felt the influence of the various revolutions and awakenings which England, Germany, Italy, and Spain experienced, and in a degree France may be said to have re- sponded, but she was in no true sense a leader. VIIL.—THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. England at the close of the Wars of the Roses—The union of the throne and the privileged classes against the landless and moneyless masses—Green’s graphic summary of the social and intellectual conditions at this time—Great interest taken in astrology and occult research—Character of Henry VIL.— England enters upon a career of material and commercial greatness —The encroachments of the crown— The Star- Chamber of Henry VIL.—William Caxton and his great work for English Literature—Difficulties under which the scholar printer labored—The influence of the New Learning in Eng- land—Henry VIIL.’s liberal patronage of art and letters— Tyndale's Bible—More’s vivid description of the misery occa- sioned by the injustice of social conditions—The rise and fall of Cardinal Wolsey—The pharisaism and worldliness of con- ventional religion — More's observations on this subject— Colet establishes St. Paul's Latin-Grammar School and lays the foundation for popular and humane education—Lights and shadows of this century in England. Ix order that we may gain a true concep- tion of the England of Sir Thomas More, 1t is important that we glance at the conditions of society at the opening of the century we are considering. The Hundred Years’ War with France ended in 1453, and the Wars of the Roses terminated with the overthrow of Richard 111. and the accession of Henry VIL to the throne. During the long and bloody 154 THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 155 night which marked these thirty years of civil strife, many of the oldest, noblest and most powerful lords of England fell on the field or perished at the hands of the exe- cutioner. The throne, which had been so uncertain a seat, at length became secure, while the great check which the feudal barons had wielded over the kingly power was practically removed. Another influence which greatly aug- / mented the central power was the union of the privileged classes—against the landless and moneyless masses. It was to “ the selfish panic of the landowners,” says Green, “ that England owed the statute of laborers, and its terrible heritage of pauperism. It was to the selfish panic of landowners and merchants that she owed the despotism of monarchy. The most fatal effect of this passion for ‘order’ [the outrages of capitalism are usually perpetrated in the name of order] was seen in the striving of these classes after special privileges.” The rise of privilege | coincident with the arrogation of despotic power by the throne, though suggestive to the student of social problems, is no novelty. 156 THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. It is the oft-repeated and infinitely tragic story of the triumph of the cunning few over the blind and shortsighted many. Privilege entrenched behind authority, lend- ing its aid to the latter in return for added concessions and faithful service — such a spectacle is so familiar to the student of his- tory that its constant recurrence at length changes amazement into a feeling of weari- ness and almost despair for the triumph of justice. Until special privileges are abol- ished and a comparative equality of oppor- tunity is established, the industrial millions will remain exiles from their just inherit- ance, doomed to a treadmill existence, and perpetually haunted with fear of eviction, starvation and a pauper’s grave.” The tyranny of privilege in the name of law and order, and the increased despotism of the throne, frequently employing the same pre- text for oppression, were sad and impress- ive spectacles mm an age wherein the most startling contrasts were everywhere present, and when life and death, progression and retrogression, despotism and new-born dreams of freedom were clashing on every side. THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 157 “The speculation of the twelfth century, the scholastic criticism of the thirteenth, the Lollardry and socialism of the fourteenth century, had at last done their work. The spell of the past, the spell of custom and tradition which had enchained the minds of men, was roughly broken. Nobles and priests were beginning to disbelieve in them- selves. The new knowledge which was now dawning on the world, the new direct contact with the Greek and Roman literatures, told above all on the wealthier and more refined classes. The young scholar or noble. who crossed the Alps brought from the schools of Florence the dim impression of a republican liberty or an imperial order which disen- chanted him of the world in which he found himself. He looked on the feudalism about him as a brutal anarchy, he looked on the church itself as the supplanter of a nobler and more philosophic morality. In England, as elsewhere, the great ecclesiastical body still seemed imposing from the memories of the past, its immense wealth, its tradition of statesmanship, its long association with the intellectual and religious aspirations of men, 158 THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. its hold on social life. But its real power was small. Its moral 1nertness, its lack of spiritual enthusiasm, gave it less and less hold on the religious minds of the day. Its energies, indeed, seemed absorbed in a mere clinging to existence.” * It 1s difficult to estimate the extent of the influence exerted by Lollardry over the minds of the intellectual. At times ignored and regarded with contempt by the ecclesiastical and political powers, but more often treated with savage and pitiless persecution, it con- tinued to spread, fed as 1t was by the excesses and the essential infidelity of ecclesiasticism and the injustice which masqueraded under the cloak of authority. The wholesale attack upon the clergy who were tainted with their greed for gold, their love of ease, and the laxity of their lives, possessed sufficient truth to become current to such an extent that the priesthood found itself shorn in a great meas- ure of its influence over the ploughman and the weaver, who had for generations accepted without question that which came to them from the cloak and the cowl of the church. * * History of the English People,” by John Richard Green, M. A. THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 159 Another peculiarity of this period, which it 1s Interesting to note 1s usually present in times of intellectual and moral awakening, was the widespread interest in astrology, magic, and occult phenomena. Green notes the prevalence of this ¢“ darkest superstition ”’ with much the same spirit of commiseration as that displayed by the early theological assailant of the theory of evolution, who dis- cussed the ¢ degrading, absurd and atheistic theory as something almost too puerile to be seriously considered.” Without doubt phe- nomena which transcended the knowledge of the people were frequently magnified, and at such times ready credence was given to many absurd stories and preposterous claims ; but yet that does not justify a modern scholar in the closing decades of the nineteenth cent- ury, after the demonstration of hypnotism and the well authenticated psychical phe- nomena which form a distinct chapter in the history of scientific advance, in dismissing as though wholly baseless the widespread in- terest and belief in supernormal phenomena and occultism which characterized this won- derful age. 160 THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. The accession of Henry VII. in 1485 ended the Wars of the Roses, but it also marked further progress in the despotism of the crown. This king was sordid and thrifty, cunning and cruel, and yet it was during his reign that England entered upon her career of commercial and material great- ness ; by a treaty with the Netherlands: in 1496 free exchange between the countries was established; by a treaty with Denmark the Baltic was opened to the English. The king furthermore encouraged maritime dis- coveries, and 1t was under his patronage that the Venetian Sebastian Gabotto, better known as Cabot, discovered Newfoundland and carried the flag of Great Britain to the Atlantic coast of the North American con- tinent. The king, moreover, encouraged national industry, and induced many skilled Flemish workmen to settle in England. On the other hand: “ He caused places at court, and even in the church, to be pur- chased. He gave bishoprics only for ready money, and sold his pardons to the guilty. During his reign parliament was rarely con- voked. Forced loans, disguised under the THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 161 name of benevolence, arbitrary confiscations, proseriptions, barbarous and unjust measures, which the civil war alone had brought about, acquired a sort of legality by the adherenc or the silence of the servile houses. Parle) ment recognized the Star Chamber, a new tribunal under an ancient name, whose mem-~ bers were entirely devoted to the king, and which became one of the most docile instru- ments and most redoubtable weapons of ah= solute power. The Star Chamber in effect multiplied the cases which were withdrawn: from any connection with a jury, and which put at the discretion of the agents of the king the fortunes and hfe of all whom the king wished to strike.” * Such, in brief, are some of the general aspects of social and political conditions in England, at the time when the author of « Utopia” entered the arena of active life. The striking contrasts, the strong lights and deep shadows of the century of Sir Thomas More will, however, be more clearly revealed when we come to note more closely the multitudinous forces at work, the factors # Jean Victor Duruy, in * History of Modern Times.” I 162 THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. which must be considered, and the condi- tions of the people as revealed by a more intimate knowledge of these facts, during the life of More. Like all revolutionary or tran- sition periods, it was a time characterized by wonderful activity, undaunted hope and far- reaching misery. One of the brighter aspects of the age was the notable intellectual awakening. It was a period of unrest for the brain of man. Profound moral, spiritual and intellectual agitation was everywhere visible. It was an age when daring ideas were conceived and great thoughts were born. It was this cent- ury which laid the solid foundation for the golden age of Elizabethan literature. And among the decisive and influential factors which contributed to the quickening of in- tellectual life among the English people, the work of William Caxton is entitled to special consideration. It was in 1476 that Caxton, who had spent more than a quarter of a century in Flanders, established -a print- ing press in London. He was a thrifty business man, but he also possessed a passion for literature, rarely found among those who THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 163 understand how to drive a shrewd bargain. No sooner had he established a business which assured him a livelihood by printing, and supplying priests and preachers with sermons and theological works, and knights and barons with “joyous and pleasant histo- ries of chivalry,” than he entered upon his labor of love by publishing the works of Chaucer and other English poets. These were followed by numerous works in prose, and many important translations made by Caxton ; more than four thousand pages published by him were translations which “the aged printer had made. The works 1s- sued from the Caxton press “nourished the imagination of England and supplied poet after poet with fine subjects for work or fine . i 2 frames for their subjects.’ It is impossible to measure the mfluence of this tireless worker, whose great service to English literature has never received the ap- preciation it merits, and it is also difficult for us to appreciate the magnitude of the difficulties under which the scholar-printer labored. The English language at this time * Rev. Stopford A. Brooke, M. A. 164 THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. was undergoing a rapid transition, and the dialect spoken in the various counties or shires varied in so marked a degree as to render the speech of one section of the island unintelligible to the common people in a county some miles distant. Even among the more scholarly there were two rival schools, one representing the “ French affec- tation,” the other “ Enghsh pedantry.” In noticing this important and critical moment in the history of English literature, Mr. Green observes: “Jt was a moment when the character of our literary tongue was being settled, and it 1s curious to see in his own words the struggle over 1t which was going on in Caxton’s time. “Some honest and great clerks have been with me and desire me to write the most curi- ous terms that 1 could find ;’ on the other hand, ‘some gentlemen of late blamed me, saying that mm my translations I had over many curious terms which could not be un- derstood of common people, and desired me to use old and homely terms in my transla- tions. Fain would I please every man,’ comments the good-humored printer, but his THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 165 sturdy sense saved him alike from the temp- tations of the court and the schools. His own taste pointed to English, but to the common terms that he daily used’ rather than to the English of his antiquarian advisers. ‘1 took an old book and read therein, and certainly the English was so rude and broad I could not well understand it,” while the Old- English characters which the Abbot of West- minster lent as models from the archives of his house seemed ‘more like to Dutch than to English.” To adopt current phraseology, however, was by no means easy at a time when even the speech of common talk was n a state of rapid flux. ¢ Our language now used varieth far from that which was used and spoken when I was born.” The influence of the new learning upon many master brains among English think- ers of this period constituted another major factor in the intellectual awakening of this century. Grocyn, Linacre, Sir Thomas More, Colet, William Lilly, and Erasmus who, though a foreigner, spent much time in England and contributed very materially to the intellectual and religious awakening 166 THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. of this era, Archbishop Warham and other chosen spirits, who were endowed with vig- orous intellects swayed by strong moral impulses and imbued with SNS = i Sp eT a fe Cd x the strange spell of this wonderful age, became ‘moulders of thought, and in a very real way contributed to - ward forming the Rese Rovsy vioL, opinions of the English-speaking world. King Henry VIII. during the early years of his reign also greatly aided the intellectual movement by his liberal patronage of learn- ing ; and it should always be remembered to the credit of this king, whose reputation is so darkly stained, that his encouragement of literature arose from a sincere love of learn- ing rather than a shallow desire to outshine his brother monarchs in his patronage of art and letters. On this point one of the THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 167 most careful English scholars of our time observes : ¢“ Much of the progress of prose was due to the patronage of the young king. It was the king who asked Lord Berners to trans- late ¢ Froissart,” a book which in 1523 made a landmark in our tongue. It was the king who supported Sir Thomas Elyot in his effort to improve education, and encouraged him to write books (1531-46) in the vulgar tongue that he might please his countrymen. It was the king who made Leland, our first English writer on antiquarian subjects, the ‘king’s antiquary,’ 1533. It was the King to whom Roger Ascham dedicated his first work, and who sent him abroad to pursue his studies. This book, the ¢ Toxophilus, or the School of Shooting,” 1545, was written for the pleasure of the yeomen and gentle- men of England in their own tongue.” * William Tyndale’s translation of the New Testament into the English tongue, in the year 1525, was a most important work in its influence upon the English tongue, as “it fixed the standard English once for all, and * Rev. Stopford A. Brooke. 168 THE ENGLAND OX SIR THOMAS MORE. brought it finally into every English home. Tyndale held fast to pure English. In his two volumes of political tracts there are only twelve Teutonic words which are now obso- lete.” Turning from a view of the intellectual side-life to a contemplation of the condition of the masses, we find that for the poor man this century was essentially tragic. Feud- alism, as has been intimated, was rapidly giving place to a new social order, and as a result the retainers and the hosts of humble laborers who had long been a part of the feudal organism—dependents upon the vari- ous noble houses—were cast adrift. Large areas of farming lands were being turned into pastures for sheep, as wool-growing was less expensive and more remunerative than farm- ing. The very poor were the prey of the landlord and capitalist. The courts were so solicitous for the in- terests of the rich that rigid statutes were reénacted against the laborers, which arbi- trarily fixed the maximum scale of prices which might be paid. The lawful wage price raried in the different seasons, but the aver- THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 169 age for the year was 6} pence (thirteen cents) per day for skilled workmen among such trades as glaziers, carpenters, bricklayers and plumbers. The wages fixed for common workmen averaged 3} pence (seven cents) per day. No provisions were made for the old, sick or decrepit. Evictions were very com- mon. Multitudes were being reduced every year to beggary, and the beggars were liable to imprisonment under a cruel statute against vagrants. In all periods characterized by heartlessness and a selfish unconcern for, others, we find a low value placed on human life, and the savagery of this time is nowhere more vividly illustrated than in the whole- sale execution of thieves. It was no uncom- mon thing for a score of thieves to be hanged from a single gallows. Nowhere do we find a more graphic or trustworthy picture of the social and economic conditions of this period than in the first book of ¢ Utopia,” which, it will be remem- bered, was written by Sir Thomas More for the purpose of calling the attention of Henry VIII. to the pitiable state of the masses, and at the same time pointing out a J 170 THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. method of dealing with serious social prob- lems wiser and more humane than the pre- vailing system. In this work, under the mask of an imaginary conversation carried on by a learned traveller and other guests in the house of Cardinal Morton, More boldly depicts prevailing conditions. He represents a lawyer present who, after the manner of conventionalists, praised ¢ the straight and rigorous justice which was exe- cuted upon felons”; these, he explained, were being hanged in twenties upon huge gallows erected to accommodate a score of victims. This conservative upholder of the sanctity of inhuman laws, however, expressed himself at a loss to understand how, in the presence of such rigorous statutes and the general enforcement of the same, thieves multiplied on every hand. Then Sir Thomas More puts into the mouth of Raphael Hythloday his views concerning the cause of the theft and the injustice of the punishment, from which we incidentally gain an insight into social con- ditions. He assures the prophet of con- ventionalism that there is no punishment so THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 171 terrible that it will keep ¢ them from steal- ing which have no other craft whereby to get their living ; therefore,” he continues, “on this point not you only, but also the most part of the world, be like evil school- masters, which be readier to beat than to teach their scholars. For greatand horrible punishments be appointed for thieves, whereas, much rather provision should have been made that there were some means whereby they might get their living so that no man should be driven to this extreme necessity—first to steal and then to die.” He then points out how numbers who “ have come home from the wars, maimed and lamed, are no longer able to ply their old trades, yet they must eat in order to live.” A second class who had been the retainers of lords and noblemen, and who had never learned a trade, being overtaken by sickness, age, or through the changing events of the transition period in which they lived, suddenly found themselves without home, food or means of a livelihood, and were confronted by the stern alternative to J 172 THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. “ starve to death” or to “ manfully play the thief,” for no man would hire them, as the market was glutted with skilled workmen. The misery incident to the mania for sheep- raising is next alluded to as a fruitful cause of the increase of the homeless and destitute. After drawing a very graphic picture of the transformation by which multitudinous small farms were being changed into vast grazing areas, Sir Thomas More continues : “ Therefore, that one covetous and insatiable cormorant may compass about and enclose many thousand acres of ground together within one pale or hedge, the husbandmen be thrust out of their own, or else by cun- ning and fraud or by violent oppression they be put beside it, or by wrongs and injuries they be so wearied that they be compelled to sell all: by one means, there- fore, or by another, by hook or by crook, they must needs depart away, poor wretched souls, men, women, husbands, wives, father- less children, widows, and woeful mothers with their young babes. Away they trudge, out of their known and accustomed houses, THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 173 finding no place to restin. All their house- hold stuff they are forced to sell for a pit- tance, and when they have wandered abroad till that is spent, what can they then do but steal and be hanged, or beg and be cast into prison as vagabonds because they work not when no man will give them work though they ever so willingly proffer themselves thereto? Thus the unreasonable conclusion of a few hath turned that thing to the utter undoing of the island in the which thing the chief felicity of the realm did consist.” Our author next points out how prostitu- tion, drinking and gambling were rapidly increasing in the selfish and brutal atmos- phere engendered by such a state of things, after which he makes an impassioned appeal for more just conditions. ¢ Cast out,” he exclaims, “these pernicious abominations; make a law that they who pluck down farms and towns of husbandry shall replace them, or else surrender the possession thereof to such as will go to the cost of building them anew. Suffer not these rich men to buy up all, to engross and forestall and with ther 174 THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. monopoly to keep the market alone as pleases them.” A further glimpse is given of the criminal arrogance and crushing injustice of capi- talism at that time in these striking words, which it must be remembered were not written after the age had passed, nor were they the utterance of an irresponsible iconoclast. On the other hand, they were the judicial statements: made to the crown by one of England’s foremost barristers and her most enlightened statesman ; hence, they may be regarded as authoritative. ¢ The rich men,” observes Sir Thomas More, “not only by private fraud, but also by common laws, do every day pluck and snatch away from the poor some part of their daily living. Therefore, when I con- sider and weigh in my mind these common- wealths which nowadays do flourish, 7 per- ceive nothing but a certain conspiracy of rich men procuring their own commodities under the name and title of the common- wealth. They invent and devise all means and crafts—first how to keep safety without fear of losing that which they have unjustly THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 175 gathered together, and next how to hire and abuse the work and labor of the poor for as little money as may be.” The descriptive lines of Sir Thomas More are exceedingly valuable, giving as they do a vivid picture of the pitiable condition of the poor during his age, and also affording a valuable illustration of the way the masses suffer during a transition period, before they come to realize that their high and sacred duty is found in overthrowing the demoraliz- ing and criminal conditions by which a few are enabled to crush the many, while society is debased throughout all its ramifications. Another element which contributed greatly to the distress of the poor during the reigns of the Tudors was the excessive taxation. This was probably at no time more crushing in its effect than during the early years of the reign of Henry VIIIL., when Wolsey was in his glory and while the king was squander- glory 8 q ing vast sums in unfortunate experiments at war and in wicked extravagance, indulged in for the purpose of dazzling neighboring kings and princes with his wealth and power. To replenish the exhausted treasury it was 176 THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. found necessary to levy an income tax of sixpence on the pound, “ extending even to the wage of the wretched agricultural laborer in order to secure the sum demanded. This terrible tax was twice repeated in one year.” Wolsey was then prime minister, and this intellectual though unscrupulous statesman and prelate was merciless in his exactions. He was inordinately ambitious. It was not enough for him to be prince of the church and prime minister of England—he coveted the papal chair ; but, to secure this prize, it was necessary that he amass vast sums of money. He must also make friends of the Emperor Charles V. and King Francis I while continuing to hold sway over the mind of Henry. A less daring soul never would have dreamed of accomplishing such a feat ; a more keen-sighted man would have dis- missed it as too visionary to be seriously considered. But with the papal chair ever before him, Wolsey relentlessly oppressed the people that he might humor his king and furnish him with all the money he desired to squander on empty show, not forgetting for a moment to gather a goodly fortune for the > THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 177 furtherance of his private aims when the propitious moment should arrive. These were indeed tragic days for the poor. Froude in his own inimitable way thus depicts the fall of Wolsey: “But the time for reckoning at length was arrived ; slowly the hand had crawled along the dial-plate— slowly as if the event would never come; and wrong was heaped on wrong, and op- pression cried and it seemed as if no ear heard its voice, till the measure of the circle was at length fulfilled—the finger touched the hour, and as the stroke of the great hammer rang out above the nation, in an instant the great fabric of iniquity was shivered into ruins.” As might be imagined, with such a man as Wolsey at the head of spiritual affairs as well as prime minister of the realm, and with the church strong and wealthy, true religion languished, while the pharisaism and dog- . matism which always prosper during the decadence of the religious spirit increased. In a reply to a monk who had assailed the writings of Erasmus, Sir Thomas More, than whom there was no more sincere or devoted 12 J 1718 THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. Catholic in the realm, thus refers to the monks throughout England : “ There are multitudes enough who would be afraid that the Devil would come upon them and take them alive to Hell, if forsooth they were to set aside their usual garb, whom nothing can move when they are grasping at money. Are there only a few, think you, who would deem it a crime to be explated with many tears, if they were to omit a line in their hourly prayers, and yet have no fearful scruples at all when they profane themselves with the worst and most infamous Lives 2” More then describes a case which had come under his personal observation ,where the head of a convent employed assassins to commit a crime for him. All the guilty parties were at length overtaken by the law, and the as- sassins described how they appeased the Holy Virgin « by a salutation on their bended knees,” after which with clear conscience they set about to perpetrate the crime for which they had been hired by the “ religious man.” , We must not, however, regard Cardinal “Wolsey as the author of these deplorable THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 179 conditions ; the causes of corruption had for generations been eating into the religious and secular life of the English people. Green, 1n speaking of the period which im- mediately preceded the century of Sir Thomas More, makes this general observation on the condition of religion throughout Europe: “Pope and king, bishop and noble, vied with each other in greed, in self-seeking, in lust, in faithlessness, in a pitiless cruelty. It 1s this moral degradation that flings so dark a shadow over the Wars of the Roses. From no period in our annals do we turn with such weariness and disgust.” But while these deplorable conditions prevailed to a great extent throughout the church in England, it was also at this time that two tremendous protests were made ; one came through the apostles of the new learning, the other through the popular reformation inaugurated on the continent. This second factor in the revolution of public thought, however, did not gain much foothold for many years ; but after it had once aroused the mind of the masses, it became a great power which the stake and the dun- J a ar Sa, Ss RE po— en —_ 178 THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. Catholic in the realm, thus refers to the monks throughout England : “ There are multitudes enough who would be afraid that the Devil would come upon them and take them alive to Hell, if forsooth they were to set aside their usual garb, whom nothing can move when they are grasping at money. Are there only a few, think you, who would deem it a crime to be explated with many tears, if they were to omit a line in their hourly prayers, and yet have no fearful scruples at all when they profane themselves with the worst and most infamous hives 2” More then describes a case which had come under his personal observation,where the head of a convent employed assassins to commit a crime for him. All the guilty parties were at length overtaken by the law, and the as- sassins described how they appeased the Holy Virgin « by a salutation on their bended knees,” after which with clear conscience they set about to perpetrate the crime for which they had been hired by the “ religious man. , We must not, however, regard Cardinal “Wolsey as the author of these deplorable THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 179 conditions ; the causes of corruption had for generations been eating into the religious and secular life of the English people. Green, in speaking of the period which 1m- mediately preceded the century of Sir Thomas More, makes this general observation on the condition of religion throughout Europe: “Pope and king, bishop and noble, vied with each other in greed, in self-seeking, in lust, in faithlessness, in a pitiless cruelty. It 1s this moral degradation that flings so dark a shadow over the Wars of the Roses. From no period in our annals do we turn with such weariness and disgust.” But while these deplorable conditions prevailed to a great extent throughout the church mn England, it was also at this time that two tremendous protests were made ; one came through the apostles of the new learning, the other through the popular reformation inaugurated on the continent. This second factor in the revolution of public thought, however, did not gain much foothold for many years ; but after it had once aroused the mind of the masses, it became a great power which the stake and the dun- / sr a a IN 180 THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. geon were powerless to overcome. It was in the springtime of the revolution born of the new learning when Colet called down upon his head the anathemas of conventional ecclesiastics by his able and common-sense exposition of the New Testament; and it was at this time also that he excited the de- rision of the defenders of the barbarous old methods of teaching, by establishing the Latin-grammar school of St. Paul for the education of boys in a humane manner. The foundation of this school was a memo- rable event in the educational history of England. Tt was presided over by William Lilly, the eminent grammarian, and may be said to have laid the foundation for a broad common or popular education; it was the seed germ of which the magnificent public- school system of our day and land is the opening flower. The experiment proved immediately successful, so much so that between the year 1500 and the rise of the reformation in England, at least a score of similar schools had been established on the island. It will be seen that this was a century of THE ENGLAND OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 181 high lights and deep shadows, a century of wild, tumultuous hope and daring thought, of sullen discontent and pitiful suffering. It was a time of startling contrasts, as are all great transition periods, and amid the strife and suffering, the hope and despair, which existed throughout life we find the foundations for glorious achievements being securely laid, and from the brain of great prophet-souls we behold luminous thought- children leaping forth, destined to prove torchbearers for the pioneers of progress in the generations which are to follow. IX.—THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. Men of imagination and genius in times of intellectual and moral transition—Their power and their peril—Sir Thomas More : a man who received divine ideals, and who was also power- fully influenced by men of positive convictions who held ideals opposite to those he had enunciated—The difficulty prosaic historians have in appreciating men of the character of More— General social conditions which environed the great English philosopher—The intellectual atmosphere of the time—Change written over every doorway of research—Youth and school- life of More—Colet founds St. Paul's Latin School—More’s love divided between the new and the old order—The youth- ful philosopher contemplates becoming a monk, but changes his mind and marries—He enters parliament and defeats the demands of Henry VIL.—More’s retirement to private life— Early years of the reign of Henry VIII.—More's Utopia—The encouragement the apostles of the new learning received from Henry VIII.—More writes Utopia—More and Machiavelli contrasted—Erasmus’ description of More—His achievements at Henry’s court—The storm of religious revolt reaches Eng- land—Henry and the Papal See—More foresees the coming storm—He grows more and more conservative as the cleavage between the new and old thought becomes more pronounced— Persecutions while More was Lord Chancellor—Resigns his position—Refuses to take the oath under the Supremacy Act— Is arrested and executed—His family life—Estimate of the man. To the casual observer the life of Sir Thomas More presents so many contradic- tions that it will prove an enigma unless he 1s acquainted with the type of individual to which the philosopher belonged ; the cold, : 182 THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 183 calculating intellect little understands, much less appreciates, a mind so profoundly sen- sitive to the varied and multitudinous influ- ences of environment as that of the author of “ Utopia.” His brain received and re- flected the complex and frequently opposing influences of his wonderful time as did the mind of no other man of his epoch. His intellect was largely swayed by the thought waves which beat upon the brain of his cent- ury with a force and persistency hitherto unknown. He felt most keenly, and with a sympathy for both, the struggle between the old and the new. But he also felt the higher and diviner thought waves—those subtle influences which inspired Angelo, and drove with tireless energy the brush of Ra- phael. He was a man of vivid imagination, but, true to the spirit of his country in this age, the divine afflatus which came to him awakened the ethical nature, while in sunny Italy it spoke to the artistic impulses. In great transition periods there are always a few children of genius, who hear some- thing higher than the din and tumult below —Ilofty souls who hear a voice calling them J 184 THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. to ascend the mountain of the ideal and catch glimpses of the coming dawn ; these chosen ones bear messages from the Infinite to humanity. They behold the promised land from the heights, and they return with a word and a picture; but to the careless rich, the frivolous, the poor, who are ab- sorbed in self, to the slow-thinking and the slaves to intellectual conventionalism, their messages are as sounding brass and a tink- ling cymbal. They who speak of peace, prog- ress and happiness through altruism usually find that they have spoken in an unknown tongue to prince and pauper. But their messages are not in vain; the true word once given will not return barren. It touches some awakened intellects, it kindles a fire which burns brighter and brighter with each succeeding generation. The ideal once given becomes an inspiration. The prophet is the annunciator of the Infinite. The eternal law of justice and progress, when once 1t 1s more broadly and truly stated, sits in judg- ment on individuals, societies and nations. The philosopher who ascends the mount- ain of the ideal receives truths larger and po = THE LIFE GF SIR THOMAS MORE. 185 more potential for good than aught man has before conceived. But when he returns to earth, that is to say, when he is jostled by “the positive thoughts of positive brains, when he is confronted by dominant ideas struggling to maintain supremacy in the em- pire of thought, he is in peril; that which was a blessing upon the mount becomes a dirge in the valley, for unless he 1s great enough to hold steadfastly to the high new truth, and rise above sensuous feeling, per- sonal ambition and innate prejudices, he 1s likely to yield to the psychic forces in the atmosphere below. Then he falls, and the fall is pitiful, for after calling the world to judgment by a great new ideal of truth, he rejects the divine message which be has uttered, and by it is condemned. Painful to relate, this was, I think, to a great degree true of Sir Thomas More, as we shall presently see. But the point I wish to illustrate just now is the liability on the part of historians and biographers to misjudge persons who are pro- foundly sensitive, and endowed with a wealth of imagination, but who also possess deep- 186 THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. rooted convictions—men who love the good in the old, and yet yearn for the new; those who in moments of ecstasy speak for the ages to come, but when oppressed by the fear and prejudice which environ them, reflect the dominant impulses of the present. Without a clear understanding of the mental characteristics of such natures, it will be 1m- possible to understand. much less sympathize with, the noblest and most far-seeing English philosopher of his age. — Sir Thomas More was born when the twilight of medievalism was paling before the dawn of modern times. Feudalism had lived its day; there were everywhere the signs of a coming storm. The conditions of the poor had grown most pitiful. The am- bition of kings had received a strange new impulse ; the superior rulers surged forward toward absolute power, with a confidence and recklessness which cowed the feudal lords. The popes, as we have seen, in many instances were secular potentates rather than spiritual fathers. Dreams of conquest swelled in the breasts of those born to the ermine, those who had risen to the scarlet cap, THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 187 and those who had achieved position and power by the possession of military genius and daring, aided by the fortunes of war. But while the anarchy of feudal brigandag was giving way before a more centralize and (in a way) orderly rule, while kings were engrossed with plans for personal aggran- dizement, scholars, scientists and skilled artisans were intoxicated by an intellectual | stimulation seldom if ever equalled in the history of the race. Some were revelling in the rediscovered treasures of ancient Greece ; some were brooding over the wonder-stories of the far East. Artists and sculptors were transferring to canvas and marble the mar- vellous dreams which haunted their imagina- tion. Gutenberg had recently invented th printing press, Copernicus was interrogating the stars, and another profound dreamer was gazing upon the western ocean with a ques- tion and a hope—one of which would not be silenced, the other so big as to appear wild and absurd to the imagination of small minds. At this momentous time, when the clock of the ages was ringing in the advent of an epoch which should mark a tremendous / 188 THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. onward stride in the advance of humanity— at this time when change was written over every great door of thought or research throughout civilization, Sir Thomas More was born. : At an early age he was sent to St. An- I thony’s school in London; afterward he entered the home of Cardinal Morton as a page; here his fine wit and intellectual acuteness greatly impressed the learned prelate, who on one occasion remarked, “This child here waiting on the table will prove a marvellous man.” On the advice of the cardinal, young More was sent to Oxford THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 189 a few years, thanks to a few bold, brave men, Great Britain was convulsed with a religious and intellectual revolution which struck terror to the old schoolmen and the conventional theologians. In 1485 Linger and Grocyn visited Italy, where they dili- gently studied under some of the great masters who were making Florence the most famous seat of culture in Europe. Linacre was tutored by Poliziano. In 1493 Colet visited Italy and came under the influence of Pico della Mirandola and Savonarola. These three scholars returned to England, fired with moral and intellectual enthusiasm and touched by the dawning spirit of scien- | | University, where a strong friendship grew | ific inquir inacre : taught | up between the youth and Colet. At Ox- tific inquiry. Linacre and Grocyn taug : eek at Oxford; later, the former founded \ford Thomas More learned something of Greek at O 5 ’ ‘Greek. From this college his father re- moved him to New Inn that he might per- fect himself in law; still later he entered Lincoln’s Inn, where he continued his studies until he was ready for admission to the bar. Shortly before Thomas More entered Ox- ford, England began to respond to the in- tellectual revolution which had aroused the advanced scholarship of the continent. In the college of physicians of London. Colet \ broke away from the scholastic methods of medievalism and startled England no less by his handling the New Testament in a plain, common-sense way than by his plea for a purified church. Later he proved how deep were his convictions and how sincere his desire for a higher and truer civilization, by devoting the fortune left him by his / 190 THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. father to the founding of St. Paul's Latin- grammar school, where children were to receive kind consideration instead of being subjected to the brutal treatment which characterized the education of that time,* and where, under the wisest and most humane teachers, * the young might,” as the founder expressed it, “proceed to grow.” In this noble innovation Colet laid the foundation for that rational and popular system of education which has grown to such splendid proportions throughout the English-speaking world, and which prob- ably finds its most perfect expression in the public-school system of the United States. We now come to a passage in the life of Thomas More, which calls for special notice, as it illustrates the intensity of his religious convictions even when a youth. Had the philosopher been born a few years earlier, in all probability not only would he never have written “ Utopia,” but we should doubtless have found him among the fore- most enemies of the new order. Through- ** Youths were brutally beaten at that time at school ; it being an all but universally accepted precept that ‘Boys’ spirits must be subdued.’ "— Maurice Adams. THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 191 out his life he ever exhibited a divided love. The new learning and the spirit of the dawn wooed and fascinated him, until he paused long enough to realize how rapidly old things were falling away; then a great fear came upon him lest the church should go down, and civilization degenerate into barbarism. He was by turns the most luminous mind among the philosophers of the dawn, and the most resolute defender of conventional religion. In this he reflected the varying intellectual atmosphere which environed his sensitive and psychical mind, and which sprang from ideas and influences which challenged his confidence or coincided with his convictions. When be had completed his education, he and William Lilly (afterward head master of the Latin-grammar school founded by Colet) determined to forswear the world and become monks. For four years they dwelt at Charter-house, subjecting themselves to the most severe discipline, scourging their bodies on Friday, wearing coarse hair shirts next the skin, and living upon the coarsest fare. Whether close acquaintance with the monkish life of that J ices re TR = a Ea SS 19% THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. time disillusioned More, as it had disillu- sioned Erasmus some years before ; whether the entreaties of Colet and Erasmus, or the passion excited bythe bright eyes and sweet winning manners of Miss Colt, whom he frequently met when visiting her father’s home at that time, served to make him forego his determination to become a monk, we know not; perhaps all these exerted an influence. Erasmus disposes of the question in this characteristic expression, “ He fell in love, and thought a chaste husband was better than a profligate monk.” And thus instead of taking vows he married Miss Colt and renewed the study of law. In 1504 More was elected to a parliament convened by Henry VII. to extort money from the impoverished people in the form of “ reasonable aids, on the occasion of the marriage of his daughter and the knighting of his son.” The subsidy demanded from the wretched and oppressed people amounted to considerably over half a million dollars (£113,000) ; a sum of this size at that time was equivalent to many times a like amount to-day, for the medium of exchange was then THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 193 so scarce that a fat ox sold for twenty-six shillings, a fat wether for three shillings md sixpence, and a chicken brought a penny. The parliament had grown so servile in the presence of the growing despotism of the crown, that only one voice was raised against the measure, and that voice was Thomas More’s, then a beardless youth. He de- nounced the demand as extortionate and un- reasonable ; he showed how the people were oppressed and overtaxed; how an increase of taxation would mean added misery to the English people. Reason after reason was advanced for denying or at least substantially reducing the amount demanded ; argument after argument, clear and convincing, fortified each reason advanced. The members of parliament were stirred even while they sat in amazement at the unmatched daring of the gifted youth. Something of the old- time fire and love of liberty filled their craven minds. They began to behold how low they had fallen by surrendering their manhood and the sacred trust given them through fear of losing their heads. The friends of the * Froude’s History of England, vol. i. pp. 30-32. ~ 13 J 194 THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. king were astounded ; they gazed at one another mm blank amazement : the reckless audacity of this youth who stood as the in- carnate voice of justice pleading the cause of the poor menaced the throne. At length the fearless orator resumed his seat, and so clear, logical and unanswerable had been his plea, that for a moment the members of parliament forgot their role of puppets and became men. The demand was rejected, and in its stead an allowance of about $150,000 (£30,000) was granted, whereupon a Mr. Tyler, one of the members of the king’s privy chamber, who was present, brought the king word that his demand had been denied, owing to the eloquent opposition of a “ beardless boy.” The king was at once enraged and alarmed ; he could find no cause for the im- mediate arrest of the offender, so he sought to wreak vengeance on the father; a com- plaint was accordingly trumped up, and old Mr. More was sent to the Tower, where he remained until he paid a fine of five hundred dollars (£100). Thomas More now retired to private life, and was preparing to leave England owing to disquieting rumors which THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 195 came to him of the king’s displeasure, when .v VII. died. oi AT the accession of Henrv VIIL. to the throne, the star of the apostles of culture rose. The king espoused the cause of the new learning, and More, Colet, and Erasmus and their companions basked in the royal favor. In vain the Trojans, as the defenders of conventionalism were called, denounced the new learning, and at length Henry VIIL silenced the “brawlers.” One of this class took occasion to denounce the heresies of Erasmus in a sermon before the king. After the discourse he was summoned tothe presence of Henry, and there interrogated; More being present answered the arguments advanced by the dogmatist. At length, finding it impossible to cope with Mos the priest fell at the feet of the king. e was trembling with terror as he implored the king’s forgiveness, saying he had heen carried away “by the spirit.” “But, said Henry, ¢ that spirit wasnot the spirit of Christ, but of foolishness” Next the king asked him if he had read the works of Erasmus; the priest acknowledged that he had not. / 196 THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. “Then you prove yourself a fool,” cried the king, “ for you condemn what you have never read.” This illustration indicates the at- titude of Henry VIII. toward the apostles of the new learning during the early years of his reign. In 1515 More was sent with a royal em- bassy to the Low Countries to settle a quarrel between Henry VIII. and Prince Charles. While in Flanders, More heard wonderful stories of the new world, and also the fabled land of India now opened, nay more, all but conquered, by Portugal. The very air of Flanders was vibrating with that restlessness which comes over men when life becomes more dignified and its possibilities greater. Wonder trod upon the heels of wonder, and a great hope filled the minds of the com- mercial world, no less than the realm of the thinkers. While here, More wrote the second part of “ Utopia.” The first part was not written until after his return to England. The publication of « Utopia” revealed afresh the superb courage of its author; it Nos a thinly disguised satire on England. THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 197 It contrasted the England of his time with what England might and should be. It was written to influence, if possible, a head- strong, vainglorious and extravagant young king, who during six years of his reign had involved his country in an ignominious war, which had drained the well-filled coffers left by Henry VIL; a young king who was now insisting on levying the enormous income tax of sixpence on the pound, and insisting that the tax extend to the miserable, half- starved agricultural laborers. Henry VIIL greatly admired Thomas More, but only a thinker who placed conviction above even life would have dared put forth a work so bold and so well calculated to open the eyes of the people to the shallow pretences as well as the criminality of the rich and power- ful. Artemus Ward speaks of a man who was fifteen years confined m a dungeon ; one day an idea struck him—he opened the window and climbed out. Now, ¢ Utopia was calculated to show the sturdy English- men the window, and King Henry was no dolt—indeed, he was a man of strong mental power and quick perceptions ; he was as J 198 THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. headstrong and despotic as he was intellectu- ally acute ; hence Thomas More in publish- ing “ Utopia” displayed that same superb courage which he evinced mn his strenuous opposition to the extravagant demand of Henry VII. How striking in contrast was the action of Machiavelli, who at this time had finished “The Prince,” and was industriously seeking some method of bringing it before the at- tention of one of the ambitious despots of Italy! More risked the king’s displeasure, and indeed his own freedom, to win a greater measure of happiness for the people and to advance civilization. Machiavelli sought to destroy freedom and the rights of man by furnishing a diabolical treatise for the private perusal of a tyrant, hoping thereby to win an important position as counsellor for the despot, and also to gain wealth. The mo- tives which actuated these two great writers on political economy were as unlike as were their works; from one fountain flowed hope and light, from the other poison and dark- ness. : King Henry took “ Utopia ” in good part, THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 199 and instead of disgracing the intrepid author, he knighted him; he promoted him from time to time, making him treasurer of the exchequer, speaker of the House of Com- mons, and at length, when Wolsey fell, he was made lord chancellor of England. More was then fifty-one years old. His personal appearance has been thus graphically de- scribed by Erasmus: “He is of middle height, well-shaped, complexion pale, without a flush of color in it save when the skin flushes. The hair 1s black shot with yellow, or yellow shot with black ; beard scanty, eyes gray, with dark spots, an eye supposed in England to indi- cate genius, and to be never found except in remarkable men. The expression is pleasant and cordial, easily passing into a smile, for he has the quickest sense of the ridiculous of any man I ever met. The right shoulder is higher than the left, the result of a trick in walking, not from a physical defect. The rest is in keeping. The only sign of rustic- ity is in the hands, which are slightly coarse. From childhood he has been careless of ap- pearance, but he has still the charm which / Pie +i 200 THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 1 remember when I first knew him. His health is good though not robust, and he 1s likely to be long-lived. His father, though in extreme old age, is still vigorous. He is careless in what he eats. I never saw a man more so. Like his father, he 1s a water- drinker. His food is beef, fresh or salted, bread, milk, fruit, and especially eggs. His voice is low and unmusical, though he loves music; but it is clear and penetrating. He articulates slowly and distinctly, and never hesitates. He dresses plainly; no silks or velvets or gold chains. He has no concern for ceremony, expects none from others, and shows little himself. He holds forms and courtesies unworthy of a man of sense, and for that reason has hitherto kept clear of the court. All courts are full of intrigue. * * * His talk is charming, full of fun, but never scurrilous or malicious. He used to act plays when young ; wit delights him, though at his own expense.” The years which had passed over Sir Thomas More from the day he entered the service of the king until he left the chancel- lor’s office were fraught with anxiety and THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 201 apprehension. He was a keen observer and an excellent reader of human nature. He early learned the true character of the king. On one occasion after Henry had visited him at his home in Chelsea, his son-in-law, Wil- liam Roper, expressed his joy at seeing the king so attached to his father-in-law. « Ah!” replied Sir Thomas More, “if my head would win him a castle in France, 4; ‘should not fail to go.” But distrust in the king was by no means his chief cause for ap- prehension and gloomy forebodings. The hope of the new learning, which promised so much a few years before, when its apostles had the ear of some of the most powerful sovereigns and when its cause was openly espoused by many of the greatest prelates and scholars of the age, was suffering a partial eclipse, while, on the other side, the Refor- mation was assuming giant-like proportions. The disciples of the new learning were distinctly apostles of broad culture. The leaders among the reformers too frequently assailed culture as the handmaiden of evil ; they had seen culture and art flourishing in Italy and elsewhere, where artificiality, in- J 202 THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. sincerity and cynical scepticism prevailed, and they imagined that art and scholarship, beyond very narrow limits, were sensual and enervating. Moreover, the summary meas- ures being adopted by the church aroused the spirit of hate and retaliation, as is ever the case, and calm reason gave way before savage invectives and violent denunciations. More, Erasmus, and Colet had dreamed of a purified church in which love should supplant form and dogma—a pure religion based on reason and hospitable to science and culture. But instead of this they now be- held the church rentasunder. Schisms were springing up on every hand. Instead of the waters of reformative truth, flowing gently over the earth, cleansing it of corruption and giving life to that which was highest and finest, as the apostles of the new learning an- ticipated, they beheld in the Reformation a torrent which was sweeping the good away with the bad; a savage, intemperate power, which opposed culture and railed against that which they held sacred in religion, a move- ment which gained momentum and volume with each succeeding month. THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 203 The day for a middle course seemed past. The cry,“ Who is on the Lord’s side ?”" came from the reactionary and intolerant Catholics no less than from the Reformers. Zwingh and Latimer threw in their lot with the ref- ormation. Erasmus opposed the reforma- tion, but held aloof from the reactionaries. Sir Thomas More moved slowly but steadily toward the camp of the ultra-conservatives. To him came some of the most intense spirits among the old-time Catholics of England, and he caught the infection of their mental atmosphere. Their fears sec- onded his apprehensions, and further fanned to fire the prejudice which at one time he seemed to have outgrown. The ascetic spirit which in youth almost made a monk of him again asserted itself in a degree, and we find him once more wearing the coarse hair shirt next his skin, and he also returned to the old habit of scourging his body with whips and knotted cords, as he had punished him- self in youth when he expected to become a monk.* The magnificent faith in truth, the wonderful spirit of toleration breathed * See Roper’s ** Life of More.” 7 204 THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. forth in ¢ Utopia,” which lifted him high above the finest thinkers of his age, faded away, and he became a persecutor of heretics. I know it has been argued that he merely permitted the execution of the law ; while on the other hand Froude goes, I think, to the opposite extreme in representing More in darker colors than the facts warrant. This historian claims that for some time before the fall of Wolsey the persecution of her- etics had become less and less rigorous, but with the accession of More to the chancellor- ship, the fires of Smithfield were again lighted. From official documents of the time it appears evident that persecutions con- tinued during the brief period in which he served as lord chancellor. And we know enough of the courage and fidelity to convic- tion of More to be sure that he would not have remained a day in the high office to which he had been appointed, had the king insisted on the destruction of heretics when More felt that such a course was criminal and wrong. The man who had defeated the demand of Henry VIL. ; who had at a later day, when speaker of the House, defied Car- THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 205 dinal Wolsey ; the man who preferred the block to taking the oath under the suprem- acy act, was not the man to allow men to be punished for heresy under his rule and re- main silent if such punishment ran contrary to his convictions of right. And yet he doubtless had his misgivings. His prophetic soul cast a sombre shadow over the future; for on one occasion when William Roper con- gratulated Sir Thomas More on ¢ the happy estate of the realm that liad so Catholic. a prince that no heretic durst show his face,” the philosopher replied, “I pray God that some of us, as high as we seem to sit upon the mountains, treading heretics under our feet like ants, live not the day that we gladly would wish to be at league with them to let them have their churches quietly to them- selves, so that they would be content to let us have ours quietly to ourselves.” It would have been far better for the rep- atation of Sir Thomas More had he stead- fastly refused to become lord chancellor of the realm, for during this period he placed an indelible blot upon a reputation which otherwise was fairer than that of any other J | 206 THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. great man of his age; this is doubly sad when we remember that he himself had called the church, the state and the individ- ual conscience to judgment for intolerance in “ Utopia.” I can conceive of few sadder spectacles than that presented by a lofty genius, like More, who, after ascending the mountains of the ideal and there receiving the inspiration which belongs to the dawn of true civilization, so far forgets the fine, high truth he has enunciated as to turn his back upon 1t and allow himself to become a per- secutor of those who differ from him. But while not ignoring this blot on the otherwise fair fame of Sir Thomas More, let us not forget that he lived in an age when the Inquisition of Spain, having received the authorization and benediction of the church, was in active operation. Ferdinand and Isabella, whose reign was so indelibly stained with the persecution and murder of Jews, Moors and heretics, had each been designated “ The Catholic,” as a title of special favor. On every hand it was argued that the heretics would be burned for ever and ever in a lake of fire and brimstone ; that if a heretic was THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 207 allowed to go at large he would soon poison the souls of others. It was felt that the man who, having a plague, went forth sow- ing death, was less dangerous than the man who sowed the seeds of heresy, which it was affirmed were the seeds of eternal death, : More had always cherished a passionate love for the Roman Church. It never seemed to occur to him seriously to question the author- ity of the pope. And had not the church and that pope sanctioned persecutions ? Had not John Huss long before been burned to death ? and he was only one of many. Moreover, the spirit of the age favored per- secution ; it was a savage period; human life was very cheap. Thieves were hanged by the score in England. The blood of the Hundred Years’ War between France and England had left its stain on the brain of this century. The dark shadows of departing medizevalism were still visible, while already in the south loomed the formidable spectre of the coming half-century of religious per- secution, which should prove such an age of human slaughter and fiendish torture as Europe had never known. Thus while we / 208 THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. deplore the fact that More permitted perse- cution, we must not judge him by the stand- ards of our time ; nor must we forget the fact - that More’s brain was sensitive to the domi- nant thought vibrations of the hour, as well as the positive convictions of those in whom he placed confidence. It was during this brief and sunless period when he was lord chancellor of England that the turn of the tide of his worldly fortunes setin. The king vainly endeavored to win him to his way of viewing the proposed di- vorce. Sir Thomas More saw in it the sever- ing of the crown from the Church of Rome, and held steadfastly to his convictions, which were opposed to such a step. At length rather than consent to the divorce he re- signed his position at the court. He went from office a very poor man, as he had stead- fastly refused all proffered assistance and had spurned the princely bribes which were offered him. In 1534 the Act of Supremacy was passed and More was summoned to take the oath. The king was very loth to destroy his one- time friend ; he made many overtures, and w -—T THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 209 assured More of his love for him. Later he threatened ; both plans were alike unavail- ing. Had More been willing to consent to a modified oath, he would probably have escaped the block, but the philosopher ever placed loyalty to conviction of right above life ; he was accordingly arrested, and at length was beheaded. His tragic death raised him to the peerage of martyrs. The domestic life of Sir Thomas More was singularly beautiful. His home has been termed a miniature Utopia. He pos- sessed a gay and buoyant spirit and carried sunshine instead of fear to his friends. His political career, if we except his actions when religious prejudice had clouded his reason and dulled his naturally keen sense of Justice, evinced statesmanship of a high order. His views on social problems were in many 1n- stances hundreds of years in advance of his day, while his genuine sympathy for the poor and oppressed led him dauntlessly to champion their cause, where a timeserver would have remained silent. He was a statesman unsullied by the demagogism of the politician. He was an apostle of culture, 14 J TT — po ws me a NO. c———— ee 1 i \ . ¥ 1 ¢ | | 210 THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. and in his writings embodied the best im- pulses of the new learning in a larger way than did any other scholar of his time. He was a prophet of a true civilization, and had his soul remained upon the mountain, above the baleful psychic waves which beat around his prejudices and played upon his fear, More’s life, as well as his writings, would have proved an unalloyed inspiration to the generations who have come after him. Yet though, like Seneca, whom in very many re- spects More resembled, he sometimes fell far short of his high ideals, when judged in the light of his age and environment he stands forth one of the noblest figures of his time, and in his “ Utopia” he reveals the 1mag- ination of a true genius, the wisdom and Justice of a sage, and the love of a civilized man. X.—THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. Parr I. The prophetic insight which enabled Sir Thomas More to discern the trend of social progress and true civilization—Professor Drummond's elucidation of the same idea along scientific lines —Egoism and Altruism the keynote of the struggle of the ages—The age in which More wrote and the purpose he had in view necessarily resulted in limitations in * Utopia" which we readily realize from our modern vantage ground—The spirit of the work was altruistic and in alignment with true civi- lization and enduring progress—An Utopian commonwealth in the New World—Its excellence and its flaws—A pen picture of ancient Peruvian government—-Great reforms fore- shadowed by the prophet soul of Sir Thomas More—Universal education—Industrial training—Treatment of the sick—Six hours’ labor a day—The aversion of the Utopians to war— Their conduct in case of war—The noble words of Charles Sumner against war. ; Long before Professor Drummond had elucidated the important evolutionary truth that the ascent of man has been marked by the triumph of altruistic over egoistic sentiment, Sir Thomas More's keen insight and intellect- ual penetration enabled him to see that the highway upon which humanity must pass in order to secure progress, felicity and true ciyilization, must be other than the savage 211 tg pS ———— Mr oo 9212 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. struggle for self alone which controlled man in the past when the animal overmastered the spiritual in governmental as well as in- dividual life. The central idea of ¢ Utopia” 1s the triumph of altruism over egoism. That Sir Thomas More had to conform in a way to the dominant ideas of his age in order to be taken with any degree of seriousness, as for example when he makes the accomplishment of universal prosperity and happiness flow from the absolutism of King Utopus, is not surprising, as we shall presently see. Though the philosopher lived 1n an essen- tially savage age, in which the brutal theory that sgt makes right was accepted almost as a truism, and which was permeated by selfishness, intolerance and heartless dis- regard for the weak and unfortunate, he canal luminous glimpses of felicity to be sitoined through the abolition of class privi- leges and the establishment of just conditions. io conceiving that human happiness and national prosperity could best be promoted by the application of the golden rule, Sir Thomas More was as wise as he was sympa- thetic ; as scientific as he was humane, since THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 213 he was in perfect accord with the best thought and latest discoveries and deductions of en- lightened science. In the warfare of uncounted ages which has marked the rise of life, the struggle for existence has played a cardinal role. In the earlier stages of the ascent this savage law predominated, and perhaps it is not singular that Charles Darwin and other great working naturalists, whose attention was so very largely centred upon these lower forms of life, should have come to the conclusion that the key to the solution of the stupendous problem popularly known as “the descent of man,” lay in the survival of the fittest in the re- morseless struggle for existence; nor is it surprising that many philosophers who read in embryology, in geology, in natural history, and indeed on almost every page of nature’s marvellous messages to men, the wonderful story of the ascent of life, should have followed the lead of the great apostles of evolution in their conclusions. Professor Drummond,* however, points out another factor which hitherto has been # ¢ Ascent of Man.” By Professor Henry Drummond, F. R. S. J ten dR A on at wah is A 914 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. barely more than hinted at by those compe- tent scholars who have unhesitatingly accepted the evolutionary hypothesis—and that 1s, the struggle for the life of others. He shows us that if the struggle for life in its earlier and more narrow sense be termed nutrition, this other great factor may, under the same limited construction, be termed reproduction. In a broader significance, and as terms es- pecially applicable when we reach a plane where the two impelling forces are more evenly matched, they may be termed egoism and altruism. Tn the lower forms of existence the struggle for life is almost the only law discernible in operation ; the other influence may be likened to a silken thread, almost imperceptible. At a later stage it becomes quite apparent in love and care for the young, and as we fol- low the line of ascent we see animals protect- ing their young and defending those of their number who are assailed by outside enemies. When the plane of man is reached these influences are more evenly matched; the struggle for others has taken mighty strides onward, and in the civilization of our time THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 215 we find egoism and altruism facing each other like two giant forces—the former the powerful victor for uncounted ages in the slow ascent of life, with a spirit which, while yielding to the form of savagery which the conventionality of the age permits, is always dominated by self-love. It is remorseless, and though its hands may be gloved the claws are always present. Though no iron chains may be visible as its victims wait upon it, the slavery is none the less real. Though the superficial observer may not see the transfusion of blood which is daily taking place, he can see how the master fattens and the victim pales with each succeeding year. On the other hand, the spirit of altruism marks the progress of enduring civilization. Its presence carries gladness and hope and makes life worth living. Its ideal is su- premely noble. It raises its servants to heights of felicity unknown to natures blinded by egoism. It points as unswervingly to the zenith of civilization, where peace, happiness and wisdom abide, as does the index finger of egoism point to the savage past. In social life to-day, throughout Christen- J 916 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. dom, these opposing forces are waging a life-and-death struggle. The problem of national life, and indeed that of enduring civilization, as well as the happiness and wel- fave of the individual, depend upon the issue. This great scientific truth was grasped by Sir Thomas More, through his rare prophetic or intuitional power, in a selfish, brutal and unscientific age. The central idea empha- sized in « Utopia” contains the redemptive potentiality for human society, however crude or wide of the mark it may be in some of the details of government. When we bear in mind the conditions of the civilization of Europe in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and also remember the limitations under which Sir Thomas More nec- essarily labored in order to make this work appeal to his young sovereign, as well as appear feasible even to the most advanced spirits of his time, we shall appreciate how far in advance of his age was this great prophet of a higher civilization, and shall also understand why at times he halted and in a degree conformed to the arbitrary methods and monarchical ideas and the intel- THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 217 lectual limitations as well as the tyranny of conventionalism which marked his day: Yet, notwithstanding these limitations, Utopia ” was in spirit so true to the best impulses of man, so in general alignment with the then undreamed-of evolutionary processes of life and society, that not only has it proved an inspiration to social reformers and humanita- rians from his century to the present time, but to-day there are thousands where here- tofore there were tens who advocate the central ideas he advanced as the true solu- tion of the problem of human society, and, as I have pointed out, they are borne out by the theory of evolution which was at first supposed to be directly opposed to the al- truistic conception. On the threshold of our examination it will also be interesting to note the fact that for generations and perhaps centuries before Sir Thomas More wrote ¢ Utopia’ there had existed in the western world a government which had abolished poverty. This unique civilization flourished in what is to-day known as Peru, and although less complex, and in many respects less advanced than the / 918 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. most enlightened European nations of the age of More, it was incomparably in advance of the nations which surrounded the Land of the Incas, as Peru was commonly termed. The concern which this western civilization exhibited for the welfare of her children and the many noble characteristics of its govern- ment gaveit a prestige, a power and a glory, despite its crudities and objectionable feat- ures, which were not approached by any sister nation, and in various respects it sur- passed the Christian nations of Europe at that age. It is true that this civilization went down before the merciless sword of the Spaniard, precisely as did Christian Rome go down before the barbarians of the North, or as did Poland succumb to the savage fury of Russia. But the facts which have come to us from Spanish historians are a revela- tion in that they show in a marked manner what was actually accomplished by a simple people in an age when the dream of en- lightened cobperation was not yet born, and when the idea of the divine right of rulers still held the human mind in thrall. This strange and ancient civilization, 1n re i THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 219 some respects so wise and considerate, was as one would naturally expect in a rude age, marred by many blemishes. Thus, for example, in matters of religion the ancient Peruvians, like the Egyptians of old, believed their first rulers were children of the sun. They were very dogmatic in their theologi- cal views and, like all dogmatic religionists, showed scant toleration to those who, how- ever sincerely, differed with them. Thus, from the fragmentary records which have come to us, we are led to infer that the soul- withering spirit of persecution, which is so thoroughly antagonistic to a spiritual growth or intellectual advancement, was present in this ancient civilization, although in justice to the Incas it is fair to say that even the rec- ords of their conquerors donot indicate that they were so intolerant as the Christian Span- iards of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. A most interesting glimpse of this pecul- iar civilization, as gathered from the most trustworthy sources, is given in the follow- ing words by Clements Markham in his admirable « History of Peru:” * * History of Peru.” By Clements R. Markham. F. R. S,, F. AS. / tH) I ih J } hl » ! | El | ne ot 920 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. “In many respects Peru under the Incas resembled the Utopia of Sir Thomas More. * * * Punishments for crimes were severe and inexorably inflicted. Not a spot of cultivable land was neglected. Towns and villages were built on rocky hills, cemeteries were in deserts or in the sides of barren cliffs, in order that no land might be wasted. Dry wastes were irrigated, and terraces were constructed, sometimes a hundred deep, up the sides of mountains. The results were commensurate with the thought and skill expended. * * * Provision was made to supply all classes of the people with every- thing they required that was not produced by themselves, through a system of colonies ormitimaes. Inhabitants of a populous dis- trict were removed to a less crowded one, the comfort of all classes was promoted by exchange of products, waste places were made fertile, and political objects were also secured. * * * Under the Inca system all who could work were obliged to work, all lived in comfort, and there was ample pro- vision for the aged, for young and children, and for the sick. Tillers of the ground and THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 221 shepherds received the share of produce called Huaccha, and the surplus went to the mitimaes in exchange for other products. All other workers were maintained from the share called Inca, including the sovereign and his officers, and the army. * * * So perfect was the Inca organization that it continued to work efficiently, and almost mechanically, for some time after the guiding heads had been struck down. The Spanish conquerors found that when they marched through the districts, sacking houses and destroying growing crops, the local officers kept a care- ful record of the injury done. The accounts were then examined and checked, and if one district had lost more than another, those that had suffered less made up part of the difference, so that the burden might be shared equally by all. Under such a system there could be no want, for thought was taken for the nourishment and comfort of every creature. There was hard work, while provision was made, not only for rest, but also for recreation. The dreams of socialists were made a reality in the system which grew up and flourished under the rule of the Incas.” / 222 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. Henry Austin, in his thoughtful work, entitled “ A Story of Government,” observes that: « The Spanish historians record with grave amazement that they had discovered a miraculous land in which there was no such thing as a poor or discontented man, in which everybody worked from the Em- peror down, a reasonable length of time, at tasks fitted to their strength and their ability. In which the problem of mere living, as it confronts us moderns, in our so- called civilized cities, had been satisfactorily settled, in which the average of human hap- piness was large and increasing.” The facts disclosed by the civilization. of ancient Peru have a very special interest and value in view of the contemptuous sneers of superficial thinkers who, with grave assump- tions of superior wisdom, frequently assert that such a condition as Sir Thomas More depicted could never exist in reality. It did exist in the land of the Incas under conditions which were strikingly similar to the popu- lar ideals in regard to rulership, the rights of classes and the claims of theology, which marked the England of Sir Thomas More, THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 223 as well as other European nations of that age; and from what we can gather from historians who cannot be accused of being partial to the western civilization which Spanish soldiers so ruthlessly and brutally destroyed, a condition of peace, prosperity and fraternity prevailed in ancient Peru unknown to any nation of Furope contem- poraneous with the supremacy of the govern- ment of the Incas. With the recent scientific conceptions as to the descent of man and with the sug- gestive history of the ancient Peruvians in mind, we will now consider the social vision of England’s great philosopher and states- man. i A great many of the reforms which Sir Thomas More described as being practised by the Utopians, and which were regarded as ideal, visionary and absurd in his time, and for many generations after his death, are now coming into successful operation. Take, for example, universal or compulsory education such as prevails at present in so many states of our Republic; this was fore- shadowed by More, as we are told that in J a) EE ms pa a iS 924 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. Utopia every « child receives a good educa- tion, and thus ignorance—the great cause of lawlessness and wretchedness—is banished.” Again, the general demand for industrial ed- ucation, which is gaining such favor among thoughtful and enlightened men and women, prevailed 1n this island country. On this point we are told that ¢ Husbandry 1s a science common to them all in general, both men and women, wherein they be all expert and cunning, being instructed from their youth, partly in their schools and partly in the country nigh unto the city, brought up, as it were, in playing, not only beholding the use of it, but also practising it.” Besides husbandry every one learned some trade or science as his own special craft, such as « cloth-working in wool, flax, or masonry Or the smith’s craft or the carpenter’s trade.” We are further told that the child 1s per- mitted to select the trade or science he de- sires to master,” and “if he wishes to per- fect himself in two crafts, he 1s permitted to do 0.” In Sir Thomas More's day the college of physicians was founded in London, but the treatment of the sick was crude and often THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 225 barbarous, and our modern methods would have been deemed impracticable and visionary in the extreme. Yet the low ideals and limited conceptions of his age did not pre- vent the author of ** Utopia ” from describing an enlightened way of treating the sick, which our tortoise-like civilization 1s gradu- ally acting upon. Thus, we are told that : “First, and chiefly, respect is had to the sick that be carried in the hospitals, for in the circuit of the city, a little without the walls, they have four hospitals, so large and ample that they seem four little towns, made thus commodious that the sick may have a generous allowance of room amid charming surroundings. These hospitals be so well appointed and with all things necessary to health so furnished, and moreover they have so diligent attention through continued pres- ence of skillful physicians, that though no man be sent hither against his will, yet, not- withstanding, there is no sick person in all the city that had not rather lie there than at home in his own house.” The persistent demand on the part of organized labor for a ten or eight hours’ is J _ y LE ——— —_ > Ml, erect lig — \ - - A — ”» A 296 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. working day was anticipated by Sir Thomas More, for in Utopia men worked but “six hours a day,”’and were therefore * not wearied from early in the morning to late in the even- ing with continual work like laboring and toiling beasts.” After the six hours which were given daily to toil each person was free to enjoy and improve himself. Public lect- ares of various kinds, musical entertainments and halls where games were played were provided for those who desired to take ad- vantage of these pursuits for self-improvement or wholesome recreation. For it was held by the Utopians that the time which could be spared from the necessary occupations and affairs of the Commonwealth, the citi- zens should enjoy in freedom, for herein they suppose the felicity of life to consist.” The six hours a day, we are assured, are ample for the performance of all necessary work. Indeed, we are told that « That small time is not only enough, but too much, for the store and abundance of all things that be requisite either for the necessities or commodities of life” ; and by way of explana- tion the author continues, “The which THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 227 thing you also shall perceive if you consider how great a part of the people in other coun- tries live idle.” In Utopia all able-bodied men and women perform a modicum of labor and all enjoy ample time for self-culture, for recreation and for following any lines of thought they may fancy. Agriculture, hus- bandry and allied pursuits are esteemed very highly throughout the island. Poultry rais- ing is carried on very extensively by means of incubators, for we are told that “they bring up a multitude of poultry by a mar- vellous process, for the hens do not sit upon the eggs, but by keeping them in a certain equal heat they bring life into them.” In the sixteenth century the soldiers were considered among the most honorable of men; war was esteemed more than legiti- mate; it was the pastime of kings, princes, popes and mighty lords, and received the sanc- tion of conventionalism ; on the other hand, husbandry and other pursuits which added to the wealth, happiness and comfort of so- ciety were looked down upon with supreme contempt. Sir Thomas More appreciated most keenly the fact that war 1s one of the most J a —————— —, : NR a a 8 » a a 998 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. conspicuous survivals of the savage in society, and that the contempt for productive and ennobling trades and callings owes its source to false ideals and base conceptions of the true grandeur of nations; hence, he tells us that the Utopians ¢ detest and abhor war” as “a thing very beastly,” and they count nothing so much agains glory as glory gotten in war >. and though both men and women are drilled to a limited extent in the manual of arms that they may defend their fair domain in case of invasion, they discour- age war, and when possible avoid the use- less and criminal shedding of human blood. And then doubtless foreseeing the objections which would be advanced to the peace policy of the Utopians by superficial persons, who would at once exclaim that such a policy would expose a government to wrongs com- mitted against it without the nation being able to redress its wrongs, our author points out that when wrongs are perpetrated even against any friendly nation, the Utopians adopt a more excellent and enlightened method of punishment, provided the lives of the Utopians and their allies have not been THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 229 sacrificed. In cases where other nations “ by cunning or guile defraud ” the Utopians, or “when violence is done to their bodies,” they wreak their anger by abstaining from trading or carrying on any friendly relations with the offending nation, “until satisfaction or restitution 1s made.” If the lives of any Utopians have been sacrificed, the nation is quick to resent it, for the citizenship of this country 1s regarded as a sacred trust to be protected at all hazards, even by war if that be necessary; but in such cases, we are told, every effort possible is made to prevent the wholesale slaughter of life, even the lives of their foes, for ¢“ they be not only sorry but also ashamed to achieve a victory with blood- shed, counting it great folly to buy precious wares too dear ; but they rejoice if they van- quish their enemies by craft, and for that act they make a general triumph, and con- ceiving the matter to be manfully handled they set up a pillar of stone in the place where they vanquished their enemies, in token of victory, for they glory and boast that they have played the man indeed, because they have overcome as no other living creature J hy wy AE Ba o» nn Pi : =i — pe. : " a . " - Ri — - —_—r ll ins 930 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. but man could overcome, that is to say, by the might of wit. For with bodily strength bears, lions, boars, wolves, dogs and other wild beasts do fight, and the most part of them do surpass man in strength and fierce courage.” We further learn that it 1s a settled policy with the Utopians to kill as few men as possible ; hence, in the event of war and in order to visit their vengeance upon those who cause the war rather than upon the helpless persons who are so recklessly hurried to death by their rulers, they offer enormous rewards to any man who will slay the prince or the king of the people who war against them, and also rich rewards for the lives of all the kings or princes or councillors who are directly responsible for the appeal to brute force. As may be supposed, this procedure works most effectively in deter- ring warlike rulers from picking a quarrel with the Utopians. The Utopians, as we have seen, detest war and count nothing so much against glory as glory gotten in war.” These words written for the eyes of a young king who had already squandered vast sums in reckless and dis- THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 231 graceful warfare, and penned at a time when some of the nations of Christendom were perpetually engaged in war, reveal the pro- phet soul who beheld a brighter and a more humane age in the future, when the true grandeur of nations would be held to consist in something nobler than wholesale murder. And these words remind us of the following noble utterance of our illustrious statesman, Charles Sumner: “ War crushes with bloody heel all benefi- cence, all happiness, all justice, all that is Godlike in man—suspending every com- mandment of the decalogue, setting at naught every principle of the gospel, and silencing all law, human as well as divine, except only that impious code of its own, the laws of war. * * * ; “ And now, if it be asked why, in consid- ering the true grandeur of nations, I dwell thus singly and exclusively on war, it is be- cause war is utterly and irreconcilably incon- sistent with true greatness. Thus far, man has worshipped in military glory a phantom idol compared with which the colossal images of ancient Babylon or modern Hindustan J 232 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. are but toys, and we, in this favored land of freedom, in this blessed day of light, are among the idolaters. It 1s not enough to be free. There must be peace which cannot fail, and other nations must share the great possession. For this good must we labor, bearing ever in mind two special objects, complements of each other: first, the arbi- trament of war must end ; and, secondly, disarmament must begin. « Casting our eyes over the history of na- tions, with horror we discern the succession of murderous slaughters by which their prog- ress is marked. Even as the hunter follows the wild beast to his lair by the drops of blood on the ground, so we follow man, faint, weary, staggering with wounds, through the black forest of the past, which he has red- dened with his gore. Oh, let it not be In ‘the future ages as In those we now contem- plate! Let the grandeur of man be dis cerned not in bloody victory or ravenous conquest, but in the blessings he has secured, in the good he has accomplished, In the tri- umphs of justice and beneficence, In the establishment of perpetual peace! To this THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 233 great work let me summon you. That fu- ture, which filled the lofty vision of sages and bards in Greece and Rome, which was foretold by prophets and heralded by evange- lists, when man, in Happy Isles, or ina nw Paradise, shall confess the loveliness of peace may you secure, if not for yourselves least for your children! Believe that Jot can do it and you can do it. The true Golden Age is before, not behind. If man has once been driven from paradise, while an angel with flaming sword forbade his return dior is another paradise even on earth, "wich he may make for himself, by the cultivation of knowledge, religion and the kindly virtues of life,—where the confusion of tongues shall be dissolved in the union of hearts, and joyous Nature, borrowing prolific charms from prevailing Harmony, shall spread her lap with unimagined bounty, and there shall be perpetual jocund spring, and sweet strains borne on the ¢odoriferous wing of gentle gales,” through valleys of delight moropleass ant than the Vale of Tempe, richer than the Garden of the Hesperides, with no dragon to guard its golden fruit.” J XI.—THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. Part II. Religious toleration in Utopia—Sir Thomas More's luminous characterization of the Father of Life and Love in his por- trayal of the religious ideal of God held by the wisest of the Utopians—King- Utopus's broad and enlightened view of religion ; a luminous conception which contrasted boldly with the popular Christian spirit of the age of More—The sad failure of the great philosopher when the hour of testing came to realize his lofty ideal when the divine within him was unin- fluenced and undismayed by baser influences—The limitations of More even when on the mountain top, as revealed in a flash of intolerance out of keeping with the religious theory of the Utopians—The belief of the Utopians that the dead were ever with them—The religion of the Utopians a religion of deeds rather than creeds—Belief in immortality—Humane treatment of criminals—Treatment of women—Liberal divorce views of Sir Thomas More—Social and economic con- ditions in Utopia—The strength and weakness in More's social views as illustrated in his work—Powerful assault on gold madness and its disastrous effect on individual happi- ness and social progress—Some striking comparisons which are homely and suggestive—Sir Thomas More's Utopia” a prophet voice calling man to reason and justice and to the consideration of higher ideals—Maurice Adams’ characteri- zation of the work and his prophecy of the coming day. Ix viewing the religious toleration of Sir Thomas More at the time he wrote © Utopia ” we are impressed with the noble and grandly humane spirit evinced by this prophet of a lofty civilization, when on the summit—when 234 ps pai geass THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 235 the God within swayed his soul and cast out fear. But turning from these pages, glow- ing with a tolerance so far in advance of his time, to the story of the life of Sir Thomas More in after years, while lord chancellor of the realm, and there noting his intoler- ance, we are painfully reminded of the frailty of human nature and the liability of sensitive minds to be swayed by human thought when strong and deep-rooted prejudices are aroused. The noblest natures are not im- pregnable if they for a moment lose sight of that basic principle of civilization whisk we call the Golden Rule. : In Utopia we are informed that “There be divers kinds of religion in sundry parts of the island and divers parts of every city. Some worship for God, the sun; some, the moon; some, some other of the planets. There be those that give worship to a man that was once of excellent virtue or of famous glory. But the most and the wisest part believe that there is a certain Godly Power unknown, everlasting, incomprehensible, inexplicable, far above the capacity and : ; ce. 7s reach of man’s wit, dispersed throughout / es som I | | } Pr — Pt Hh ~ = td pron rp , - ~ = _- bt - i : an re ———— om - - ye suns sper i pra - . nn re ————————————— in —— i 236 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. all the world, not In bigness but in virtue and power. Him they call Father of all. To Him alone they attribute the beginnings, the increasings, the proceedings, the changes and the ends of all things.” The enlightened views of the founder of this Commonwealth, and his aversion to that violence and the spirit of hatred always liable to arise among men where dogmatic theology prevails, are thus set forth : 4 For King Utopus, even at the first beginning, hearing that the inhabitants of the land were, before his coming thither, at continual dis- sension and strife among themselves because of their religion, made a decree that it should be lawful for every man to favor and follow what religion he would, and that he might do the best he could to bring others to his opinion, so that he did 1t peaceably, gently, quietly and soberly, without haste and contention, rebuking and inveighing agaist others. If he could not by fair and gentle speech induce them into his opinion, yet he should use no kind of violence and refrain from unpleasant and seditious words.” 3 The ideas of King Utopus on religion THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 237 were far broader than the popular opinions or views current throughout Christian Europe at the time when More wrote, as will be seen from the following : “ Whereof he durst define and determine nothing un- advisedly, as doubting whether God, desiring manifold and divers sorts of honor, would inspire sundry men with sundry kinds of religion, and this surely he thought a point of arrogant presumption to compel all others by violence and threatening to agree to the same as thou believest to be true. Further- more, though there be one religion which alone is true and others vain and supersti- tious, yet did he well foresee that the truth of its own power would, at the last, issue out and come to the light. But if conten- tions and debates be continually indulged in, as the worst men be most obstinate and stubborn, he perceived that then the best and holiest religion would be trodden under foot and destroyed by most vain superstitions. Therefore all this matter he left undiscussed and gave to every man free liberty to choose and believe what he would.” It is sad indeed that the illustrious / 938 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. author did not cling to these wise precepts when he rose to the first place below the throne of England. Once, indeed, we see the spirit of intolerance flash forth in Sir Thomas More’s description of the religious views prevalent throughout Utopia ; once we see. his lack of faith in the power of truth ; once his loyalty to freedom in thought, justice and wisdom is found limping on a crutch, as will be found by perusal of the following passage relating to atheists: He [King Utopus] earnestly charged them that no man should conceive so vile and base an opinion of the dignity of man’s nature as to think that the souls do die and perish with the body, or that the world is not governed by Divine Providence. Him that be of contrary opinion they count not in the number of men, as one that has abased the high nature of the soul to the vileness of brute bodies. * * * Wherefore he that is thus minded is deprived of all honors, excluded from all offices, and rejected from all common administrations in the public weal, and thus he is of all sorts despised as of an unprofit- able and of a base and vile nature. Howbeit THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 239 they put him to no punishment because they be persuaded that it is in no man’s power to believe what he lists, nor do they con- strain him with threatenings to dissemble his mind and show countenance contrary to his beliefs. For deceit and falsehood and all manner of lies as next unto fraud they do detest and abhor. But they suffer him not to dispute in his opinions, and that only among the common people. For many men of gravity and the priests they encourage to exhort him, to dispute and argue, hoping that at the last his madness will give place to reason.” The spirit evinced in this pas- sage, though displaying a sad lack of faith in the power of truth, and the wholesomeness of free thought, was far above the savage, intolerant and unreasoning spirit which prevailed throughout Europe during the sixteenth century; and in the expression, “They be persuaded that it is inno man’s power to believe what he lists,” we see that this ardent Catholic in this age of religious fa- naticism caught a glimpse of a great truth, the wilful refusal to recognize which has led to untold persecution and suffering. Many of / at 240 TUE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. the noblest prophets and disciples of science and truth have been slain because they saw truths larger than the conventionalists of their age regarded as orthodox, and because they were too noble and high-minded to le and go to the grave mantled in hypocrisy. Very apt is the way Sir Thomas More sat- irizes the tendency of a dogmatic religion to make its adherents intolerant by narrowing the intellectual vision of those who fall under 1ts paralyzing influence. The Chris- tian visitor to Utopia, finding the wide lati- tude given to religious views, made haste to promulgate the conventional Christian the- ology of the sixteenth century. As soon as one of the Utopians was proselyted, he be- came infected with that intolerance which has so frequently ostracized where it has been unable to destroy the advance guard of civilization and progress in the ages. But I will let the author of “Utopia” tell the story : « He, as soon as he was baptized, began against our wills with more earnest affection than wisdom to reason of Christ's religion, and began to wax so hot in this matter that he did prefer our religion before all THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 241 others, calling them profane and the followers of them wicked and devilish and the chil- dren of everlasting damnation.” The Utopians, we are told, believed ¢ that the dead be present among then, though to the dull and feeble eyesight of man they be invisible.” They reason that the spirits of the loved ones not only enjoy the liberty of coming back and becoming In a way guardian angels, but that the love of those who leave us is intensified as their vision 1s broadened. “ They believe, therefore, that the dead be presently conversant among the quick as beholders and witnesses of all their words and deeds. Therefore, they go more coura- geously to their business, as having a trust in such guardians.” This, it will be seen, is curiously enough the central claim of modern spiritualism. And it is the hope of arriving at a scientific solution of this momentous problem that has inspired during recent years the tireless labors of earnest thinkers and scientific bodies who have been engaged in the critical investigation of psychical phenomena. The prophet when upon the mountain of exaltation not unfrequently 16 J 942 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. catches luminous glimpses of great truths, which are not scientifically established by the slower methods of reasoning resulting from the vast accumulation of authoritative data, until centuries later. And may not the author of « Utopia,” in one of these moments, have caught a glimpse of a truth which science will some day establish to the satis- faction of those who desire the truth, but who are influenced by hard facts resting on unchallenged data ? The religion described as prevailing among the Utopians reflects many ideas accepted in More’s day ; but we here also find much that was far in advance of his age, being based on common sense rather than being the offspring of dogmatism. Thus we are told that They believe that felicity after death is obtained by busy labors and good deeds in life” Tt 1s a point with them to seek to “mitigate and assuage the grief of others” and to * take from them sorrow and the heaviness of life.” They define virtue “To be life ordered according to nature, and that he doth follow the course of nature which in desiring and refusing THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 243 things is ruled by his reason.” They hold «That the soul is immortal and ordained by God to felicity; that our virtuous and good deeds be rewarded and our evil deeds be punished.” In other words, the Utopians believe that as a man sows SO shall he reap, and that no suffering of the innocent can wipe away the consequences of sins which sear, crush and deform the soul ; but, as we have seen, they believe in the ulti- mate felicity of the spirit,—a belief which alone can make creation other than a colos- sal mistake, a measureless crime ! The Utopians favor pleasures which donot debase or cause injury to others. They are represented as being far more humane than the Christians of contemporary Europe. This was very noticeable in the treatment of criminals. While England was © hanging thieves by the score on a single gallows,” the Utopians were striving to reform their erring ones and resorting to the death pen- alty only in extreme cases. Women, though by no means exercising the rights they en- joy with us, were treated with far more con- sideration than they received in the Europe Z 9 oa 7 kh 944 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. of the sixteenth century. They were ad- mitted to the order of the priesthood, among other privileges accorded them ; and in the marriage relation they received a considera- tion which England, for many generations after « Utopia” was written, refused to yield them. One thing in regard to the divorces In Utopia is surprising when we remember that Sir Thomas More was a most devoted Roman Catholic. In the Altrurian island, we are informed that: “Now and then it chanceth, whereas a man and a woman cannot agree be- tween themselves, both of them finding other with whom they hope to live more quietly and merrily, they by full consent of them both be divorced asunder and married again to others. But that not without the sanc- tion of the council after the petition has been diligently considered.” In the present transition stage of our society peculiar interest attaches to the social and economic conditions of Utopia, as here we find much that 1s suggestive and which will prove helpful if we keep in view the fact that, while the altruistic spirit of Utopia is the THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 245 spirit which must prevail in the society of the future if man is to progress, nevertheless the methods suggested by Sir Thomas More, though they were as enlightened and intelli- gent as the civilization of his time could com- prehend, are not the methods which en- lightened civilization in the present age would employ, as they are too arbitrary and artificial. We are now beginning to per- ceive that the evils of society are to be rem- edied (1) by education,—a wise foresight, which never loses sight of the civilization of to-morrow and appreciates the importance of individual development; (2) the establish- ment of conditions favoring justice and free- dom and fraternity, which can be rendered possible only by the abolition of all class privi- leges and special legislation. Moreover, the fetich of gold-worship must be overthrown, because it more than war, pestilence or famine destroys the happiness of millions, while it corrupts the few. Sir Thomas More appreciated the fact that the gold madness was enslaving millions and destroying the happiness and comfort of the masses. Thus, among the Utopians, / - a mm: ST TG 946 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. he tells us that: “They marvel that gold, ° which of its own nature is a thing so unpro- fitable, is now among all people in so high estimation that man himself, by whose yea, and for whose use 1t 1s sO much set by, is in much less estimation than the gold itself. Insomuch as a lumpish blockhead churl, and which hath no more art than an ass, shall have, nevertheless, many wise and good men in subjection and bondage, only for this— because he hath a great heap of gold. x2 #2 They marvel at and detest the madness of them which to those rich men in whose debt and danger they be not, do give honor for no other consideration but because they be rich.” In Utopia the spectres of want and starva- tion, which haunt our poor and fill the future with frightful forebodings, are unknown ; but they were very much in evidence in Euro- pean life during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. It was during the century of Sir Thomas More that there : ¢ Arose for the first time in England a true proletariat divorced from the soil and dependent entirely upon wages, with no resources against old age, THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 247 sickness or lack of employment. The misery of the masses was perhaps never greater.” * The author of “Utopia” points out “that, while in other countries the laborers know they will starve when age comes unless they can scrape some money together, no matter how much the commonwealth in which they live may flourish,” in Utopia things are very different ; for there There 1s no less pro- vision for them that were once laborers, but who are now weak and impotent, than for those who do labor.” A comparison 1s next made by Sir Thomas More, in which the justice and wisdom of the Utopian in providing for an insurance or pension for the aged laborers are set over against the murderous, selfish and short- sighted system which was then in practice, and which unhappily has been intensified rather than weakened with the flight of cent- aries. “For what justice is this,” he urges, “ that a rich goldsmith or an usurer, or mn short any of them which do nothing at all, or if they do anything, it 1s of a kind not necessary for the commonwealth, should have * Maurice Adams, introduction to «= Utopia.” 248 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. pleasant and wealthy lives, either by idleness, or by unnecessary business, when in the meantime poor laborers, carters, ironsmiths, carpenters and ploughmen by so great and continual toil be scarcely able to live, though their work be necessary toil, without which no commonwealth could endure, and yet they have so hard and poor a living and live so wretched and miserable a life that the state and conditions of the laboring beasts be much bet- ter? Moreover, these poor wretches be persis- tently tormented with barren and unfruitful labor, and the thought of their poor, indigent and beggarly old age killeth them. For their daily wages be so little that it will not suffice for the same day, much less it yieldeth any overplus that may be laid up for the relief of old age.” More than three centuries have passed, and yet this vivid picture of unjust and unequal social conditions is a graphic characterization of present-day society throughout the Christian world. ¢ Is it not an unjust and unkind public weal,” con- tinues the author of «“ Utopia,” ¢ which gives great fees and rewards to gentlemen, as they call them, to such as be either idle persons, THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 249 flatterers or devisers of vain pleasures, while it makes no provision for poor ploughmen, colliers, laborers, carters, ironsmiths and car- penters, without whom no commonwealth can continue ? But after it hath abused the laborers of their lusty and flowering age, at the last when they be oppressed by old age and sickness, forgets their labor and leaveth them most unkindly with miserable death.” After the vivid and painfully true picture of the essential injustice of governments manipulated by the influence of caste privi- lege or gold, Sir Thomas More makes: a scorching arraignment of the soulless capi- talism of his time, which 1s even more applicable to our age of trusts, monopolies, syndicates and multi-millionaires. The rich men,” he declares, “not only by private fraud, but also by common laws, do every day pluck away from the poor some part of their daily living. Therefore, when I con- sider all these commonwealths which nowa- days do flourish, I can perceive nothing but a certain conspiracy of rich men procuring their own commodities under the name and title of the commonwealth. They invent ais — - = 5S ee EE CRSA iE RIES 950 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. and devise all means and crafts, first how to keep safely without fear of losing that which they have unjustly gathered together, and next how to hire and abuse the work and labor of the poor for as little money as may be. These most wicked and vicious men by their insatiable covetousness divide among themselves those things which would have sufficed for all men.” Again he compares the murderous, merci- less reign of the titled and capitalistic classes, who had become well-nigh all-power- ful through special privileges, with the oper- ation of different conditions in the land he is describing. How far be they,” he ob- serves, “ from the wealth and felicity of the Utopian commonwealth, where all the desire for money with the use thereof is banished ! How great the occasion of wretchedness and mischief is plucked up by the roots, for who knoweth not that fraud, theft, rapine, brawl- ing, quarreling, strife, treason and murder, which by daily punishments are rather re- venged than restrained, do die when money dieth? And also that fear, care, labor and watching do perish when money perisheth ?” THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 251 Sir Thomas More further emphasizes the wisdom of the Utopian provisions, by calling attention to the fact that after failure of the crops in England it was no uncommon thing for thousands to starve for food, while the rich possessed abundant stores of food to have afforded plenty for all, and by a just distribution of wealth, whereby the wealth producers might have had their own, no industrious man, woman or child need have died of starvation or the plague which not infrequently accompanied the famine. From the foregoing we see how high an altitude Sir Thomas More had reached, even in his savage and self-absorbed age. From his eminence he caught luminous glimpses which come only to prophet souls. There can be no doubt but that the author of « Utopia ” derived much inspiration from Plato, even as such social thinkers of our time as William Morris, Joaquin Miller, William Dean Howells, and Edward Bellamy have de- rived, consciously and directly, or uncon- sciously and indirectly, much inspiration from Sir Thomas More. All these and many other earnest lovers of the race have re- 252 THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. flected, in a more or less true and helpful way, the persistent dream of the wisest and noblest spirits of all time: a dream which has haunted the aspiring soul since the first man faced the heavens with a question and a prayer ! Sir Thomas More failed in the details of his plan, but the soul of « Utopia,” or the spirit which permeated the work, was purely altru- istic and in alignment with the law of evo- lutionary growth; hence, his work was in deed and truth a voice of dawn crying in the night—a prophet voice proclaiming the coming day! As Maurice Adams well says : “Sir Thomas More found the true common- wealth nowhere. But in so far as the social order he advocated is based on reason and justice,—the nowhere must at length become somewhere, nay, everywhere. Some of the reforms which he perceived to be necessary have already been realized, others are being striven for to-day. May we not hope many more will at length be attained ? Surely never before was there such a wide-spread re- volt against social wrong and injustice ; such a firm resolve to remove the preventable evils THE UTOPIA OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 253 of life; or such a world-wide aspiration for a reorganization of society on 2a juster basis. It cannot be that the promise of better things is forever to remain unfulfilled! From the summit of the hills of thought may we not catch the first faint streaks of the dawn of a nobler day ? Can we not trace the dim out- line of a real Society slowly forming amongst us, in which none shall be disinherited or trodden under foot in a senseless and reckless race for wealth, but where all shall be truly free to develop the full capacity of their nature in cooperation with their fellows for a Common Good ?” XII.—HISTORICAL PARALLELS PRESENT.- ED BY THE LIVES OF SENECA AND SIR THOMAS MORE. Sir Thomas More and the Roman philosopher Seneca—Each entered the arena of life in a time of civilization-wide revolution—Dur- ing Seneca’s life Christianity rose to such commanding pro- portions as to alarm conventionalism and paganism and led to the most savage persecutions—Like the century of More, the age of Seneca was preéminently an age of change—The influ- ence of Christianity upon paganism in the philosopher's day compared with the influence exerted by the New Learning and the Reformation during the time of Sir Thomas More— The fathers of Seneca and More both desired their sons to be- come advocates, and later to enter political life—Seneca’s pas- sion for the lofty teachings of Stoicism—The strong religious bent of Sir Thomas More's mind and his early enthusiasm for the New Learning—The philosophers in youth offend their sovereigns—Later each basks in royal favor only to come to tragic ends by the hands which raised them to political emi- nence—The blot on the escutcheons of Seneca and More—The writings of these philosophers compared—General observa- tions on their lives. THE points of resemblance between the personal characteristics and intellectual bent of Sir Thomas More and the philosopher Seneca, and the striking parallels in the lead- ing historical events associated with their lives, are at once interesting and suggestive. Both were ushered into the world at mo- ments when civilization-wide revolutions were 254 SENECA AND SIR THOMAS MORE. 255 in progress. Seneca was only thirty-five years of age when Tiberius Cesar died. During his life Paul preached Christianity in Rome, and before he died the new religion had so revolutionized thought that alarmed pagan conventionalism was seeking to ex- terminate the new light byemethods almost as barbarous as those adopted by the Spanish Inquisition to stamp out heresy during the century of Sir Thomas More. The age of Seneca was preéminently an age of change. In rapid succession, emperor followed emperor, until the cup of Rome’s shame and . iniquity was full. And had it not been for the strong moral and religious stimulus which primitive Christianity infused into the Greek and Roman world, before the church grew rich and forgot the life and teachings of her founder, it is highly probable that civiliza- tion would have gone out in a night of bar- barism, during the tragical centuries which followed the death of Seneca. Even so, had it not been for the moral and religious stim- ulus infused into a degraded, corrupt and superstitious civilization by the apostles of the new learning and the leaders of the —r Ee — ——————— cme et ——————— a SA —————— A ———— a p—— a a 256 HISTORICAL PARALLELS PRESENTED. Reformation, 1t 1s difficult to predict to what depths man might have fallen inthe century of Sir Thomas More ; and during succeeding generations, the savage barbarity of Cortes, and the Spanish generally, in the new world, and the cruelty of the Portuguese in India, no less than the spirit which gave life to the Inquisition, hint at the profundity of heartlessness and depravity which was pres- ent at this time, where the beneficent influ- ence of these moral and religious revolutions was not felt. The fathers of More and Seneca were both men of some means, and each desired his son to become an advocate, and later to enter the arena of political life. Both these gifted youths found their chief delight in moral, ethical and religious truths. Seneca early heard the exalted teachings of the noblest philosophers of the pagan world, and became so impressed with the beauty of Stoicism, that while other wealthy youths were loit- ering in the public baths, unblushingly de- scribing the details of most revolting out- rages and degrading orgies in which they had been participants, Seneca was eagerly BY THE LIVES OF SENECA AND MORE. 257 drinking in the high, pure ethics of the Stoic philosophers, Attalus and Sotion. And when his associates were spending their evenings In debauching pastimes, this high- minded vouth was wont to retire alone and meditate upon the philosophy of life and the teachings which had enabled Socrates to face death with a smile. In after life, Sen- eca wrote that it was his invariable custom before sleeping to quietly review his con- duct of the day, asking himself first, © What evil have 1 this day cured?” secondly, « What vice have I resisted ? thirdly, © In what particular have I improved ?” And, he added, when referring to these examina- tions, “ Why should I conceal or reserve anything, or make any scruple of inquiry into mv errors, when I can say to myself, ‘Do so no more, and for this once I will for- give you? ”» ay At a corresponding period in his youth, we have found that Sir Thomas More was scourging himself on Fridays and wearing a hair shirt next his skin and preparing to take the religious vows, exhibiting the same determination to become a monk as did Seneca 1- i re ——— A —— a ——————— i ————————————— ne oan Maen comet spa wr | Ne NN n 208 HISTORICAL PARALLELS PRESENTED to abandon the home of his father and cast in his lot with the despised Stoic phi- losophers. But in both cases their decisions were overruled, and beth became public advocates pursuant to the ardent wish of their fathers. Yet, throughout life, the ideals which had haunted their youthful years remained with them, and to a degree colored the sunset of their careers. ig When Seneca was a young man he in- curred the displeasure of Caius Cesar, who was Jealous of the philosopher’s nm over the minds of the people, and the — ordered that he be put to death on account of his eloquence. This order was rescinded only at the suggestion of a favorite, who urged that Seneca’s fame was rapidly Sing and his health was so poor that disease would shortly execute the imperial decree. Seneca yy rien to private life until Caius sar fell beneatl 1 1S 1 But a new yy a um. The moral obliquity of the Empress Messalina revealed in her monstrous crimes and an equalled immorality, awakened horror and disgust in all noble Romans who held however BY THE LIVES OF SENECA AND MORE. 259 loosely to high ideals, and to whom mercy" and justice were more than empty words. The emperor's two nieces, Julia and Agrip- pina, sought to overthrow the woman whose life was a scandal to the world. The nieces were by no means paragons of virtue; but many of the noblest men of Rome espoused their cause, believing that the downfall of Messalina was imperatively demanded. Among these none was more conspicuous than Seneca, the most eloquent statesman of the empire. Messalina, realizing her peril, acted with promptness. Her minions were . employed and a charge was formally made against Julia, in which it was alleged she had carried on an intrigue with the phi- losopher. There does not appear to have been a particle of evidence that directly or indirectly tended to criminate the accused, but both were punished without the sem- blance of a trial. Julia was first exiled and then assassinated, and Seneca was banished to the rocky, barren and plague-infested island of Corsica. : It will be remembered that when Sir Thomas More first appeared in political life, A —— pn I ————————— SO I or $55 260 HISTORICAL PARALLELS PRESENTED he aroused the implacable hatred of his sovereign, Henry VIL, by so eloquently championing the cause of the poor and oppressed that the royal demand was refused and that thereupon the king imprisoned hin father; and though Thomas More retired from public life, the king was by no means satisfied ; indeed, he sought in so many ways js a a pretext by which he might punish us eloquent and dangerous subjec young More was We to a oo land when Henry VII. died. The Ron philosopher incurred the displeasure of his sovereigns, and was forced first into retire- ment owing to his eloquence, and later into exile, on account of his boldness in opposing the merciless and degrading rule of the most mmoral woman of any age. Sir Thomas More so aroused the hatred of his sovereion by his eloquent defence of the cause of the poor and oppressed and his opposition to justice and despotism, that he was com- pelled to retire to private life, and had it not been for the timely death of the king he would hav : 1 1ave fled from England mm order to save his head. BY THE LIVES OF SENECA AND MORE. 261 It fell to Seneca’s lot to be the tutor of the young Nero ; and when the latter became emperor, Seneca, for some time, virtually ruled Rome. These were days of gladness, in which mercy and justice once more found a place in the Eternal City, and men began to believe that a golden age was dawning. Seneca, however, was not deceived in the character of his pupil. He knew that the day would come but too soon when Nero would cast aside all wholesome restraint and reveal his true character. This was illus- trated in a remark made at the time to a, friend who was descanting on the clemency and justice of the young emperor, whereupon Seneca laconically replied that when the lion had tasted blood his innate cruelty would return.” Turning from the court of Rome to that of Henry VIIL., we find Sir Thomas More standing very high in the favor of the young king, who in his pride, vainglory, despotism and sensualism, so strikingly re- sembled Nero. It was for the purpose of in- structing and influencing the rule of his king that Sir Thomas More was led to pen « Uto- pia,” at the time when Henry VIII. was urg- Ie = ww SS oa ———_ pt a em ~~ 262 HISTORICAL PARALLELS PRESENTED ing him to take a leading place in his council. And, indeed, it appears that to a certain degree the suggestions of More were acted upon by Henry; for, at More’s instance, Wolsey was compelled to make retrenchments in national expenses ; and one of More's first acts after he came into high favor and power was to negotiate a treaty of peace with France, by which Henry VIII. voluntarily surrendered his conquests in that land. Henry’s liberal patronage of culture and his open encouragement of the cause of the new learning shed lustre over the early years of his sombre reign. More, however, was no further deceived in the real nature of his monarch than had Seneca been in regard to Nero, as will be apparent if we call to mind his memorable remark to William Roper, before referred to, when the great statesman expressed the conviction that “if his head would win Henry a castle in France, the king would not hesitate to sacrifice it.” The philosopher, while he was still the councillor of Nero, acquiesced in the em- peror’s desire to have his mother murdered ; and Sir Thomas More, while lord chancel- BY THE LIVES OF SENECA AND MORE. 263 lor of England, permitted high-minded people to be cruelly persecuted and slain cn account of their religious convictions. Thus, upon the otherwise fair escutcheons of both these great statesmen and philosophers, we find indelible stains. Seneca, virtually the prime minister, and, for a time, the controlling spirit in the government of the empire, in the very nature of the case could hold his position only so long as the savagery of Nero's nature, no less than his vices and ex- cesses, could be curbed, unless he should have been willing to throw his philosophy and his high ideals to the winds and unite with the young despot in his mad rush to- ward the pit. This last alternative it was as impossible for Seneca to entertain as it was impossible for Sir Thomas More to trample under foot his convictions mn regard to the “supremacy act.” Hence, the hour came at length which the Roman philosopher had long foreseen, when the emperor hated yet feared him. Vice, injustice and cruelty can- not brook virtue, justice and clemency with a good grace. Nero desired to destroy Seneca, but for some time feared the popularity of 264 HISTORICAL PARALLELS PRESENTED the philosopher. After the death of Seneca’s great friend, the sturdy Roman general, Burrhus, the emperor determined to act. He accordingly sent word to the philosopher that it was his will that he die. This meant that Seneca must kill himself or be executed publicly. The great Stoic chose the former alternative and opened a vein. Turning to Sir Thomas More, we find him prime minister of the realm and the most powerful councillor of the king. But Henry has set his heart on marrying an English maiden, and he has failed to receive the sanction of the church to his suit for a divorce from Catherine of Aragon. He de- sires to act independently and he wishes the aid of his prime minister. Sir Thomas More sees in the step a coming religious storm. If Henry acts before the Pope con- sents to the divorce there will be a rupture between the Papal See and the throne of England. Henry will be excommunicated if he refuses to put away his bride, and the lord chancellor knows full well that the king will secede from Rome rather than be denied the object upon which he has set his BY THE LIVES OF SENECA AND MORE. 265 affections. He sees that the king who has earned the name of “Defender of the Faith ” by replying to Luther, may in time find him- self within the Lutheran fold, if the battle with Rome is carried much further. This, doubtless, was one of the most trying periods in the life of More; his clear vision perceived the inevitable, and, moreover, he saw on every hand secession from Rome. The fabric of the Christian church seemed to be falling in pieces, and he was called upon to sanction a step which he knew would widen the breach between England and Rome, if indeed it did not lead to the complete severance of the English Church from the Roman See. Sir Thomas More chose to retire from office. Henry accepted his resignation with reluct- ance, and had the great statesman possessed sufficient wealth to enable him to leave England for a term of years, he might have escaped his tragic end. He had, however, refused all offers of money from the king. He had also declined a handsome purse made up by certain orthodox Catholic prelates and offered him as a token of esteem for his de- fence of Catholicism.’/ Now, he was well- ES ——— oo | 266 HISTORICAL PARALLELS PRESENTED nigh penniless, and when the supremacy act” passed, he saw clearly that he would have to do violence to his conviction of right, or go to the Tower, and most probably from thence to the block. It was a severe strug- gle, for he loved life and was devoted to his family. At length he reached his decision and calmly accepted the block. Like Seneca, he went from the most commanding position in the government of his sovereign to an unnatural death, at the behest of the ruler who had professed the greatest attachment to him, and who had for a time, in a limited way, heeded his wise counsel. So far as we have authentic records we are led to believe that the private life of Seneca was singularly pure and beautiful. His de- votion to his aged mother was as touching as affection so deep was rare in his age. During lis exile in Corsica, his chief concern was for this old parent in Rome who was mourning for him. There are few things in literature more touchingly beautiful than his messages to her during his banishment. “ What,” says he mn one of these letters, “ though fortune has thrown me where the BY THE LIVES OF SENECA AND MORE. 267 most magnificent abode is a cottage? the humblest cottage, if it be the home of vir- tue, may be more beautiful than all temples. No place is narrow which can contain the crowd of glorious virtues ; and as for poverty, every one who 1s not corrupted by the mad- ness of avarice and luxury knows that it is no evil. How little does man need, and how easily can he secure that! [It is the soul that makes us rich or poor, and the soul follows us into exile, and finds and enjoys its own blessing even in the most barren solitude.” In another letter he reminds his mother of her own beautiful life and its in- fluence upon him. Indeed, the solicitude and affection revealed in these communications to his grief-stricken parent draw us very near to Seneca, and make us feel that he was far more than a great philosopher; he was a man of deep and pure affection, and for his age and environment may be classed among the good as well as the great. Of Sir Thomas More the same may be said with equal emphasis. His home, as has already been pointed out, was a minia- ture Utopia. His devotion to his eldest 9268 HISTORICAL PARALLELS PRESENTED daughter, who was his companion and con- fidante, was as strong as the atfection borne by Seneca for his mother. His concern for his children and the affection which he. dis- played were rare in those days when children were seldom treated as companions, and more often thrashed than caressed. In the writings of these two great philos- ophers we find striking parallels present, as well as notable differences in methods and general scope of thought. Each strove to increase the happiness of humanity and to elevate the ideals of mankind. Felicity through a higher, purer and simpler life: this was the burden of the message each emphasized. Seneca devoted himself to in- dividual development. He appealed to the conscience of man and pointed to the soul as the throne of happiness or misery. His appeal was to the unit. More supplemented this by broadly sketching out a civilization in which justice and altruism should prevail, and the influence of environment favor the development of the best in man. To the starving wanderer, the wild berry is excellent food: but the cultivated berry is twice BY THE LIVES OF SENECA AND MORE. 269 as large and doubly as nutritious. Society had developed during the interim between the age of Seneca and the century of More, and the latter took up the work where Seneca had dropped it, and showed how the happiness of the whole people could be secured through infusing altruism into the veins of the social organism. He was not reactionary, as a social philosopher, he did not ignore or minify the individual responsibility; but fol- lowing the course of evolutionary develop- ment, he applied his teachings to society ther than to the individual, and in his work gave a luminous glimpse of the general happiness which will prevail when civilization shall become permeated by justice and love. Such are some interesting points suggested by the lives of these two men, who were the first philosophers of their respective ages, who were orators, statesmen and authors, who, alike, rose to the foremost position in their government, and who met tragic deaths at the hand of their sovereign. So strik- ing 1s the similarity in their natures, and so like is the pattern woven for them by the loom of fate, that if the stories of their lives 270 SENECA AND SIR THOMAS MORE. had found their way into literature as trag- edy stead of history—productions of the mmagination instead of narration of facts— the life of Sir Thomas More would have been regarded more as an adaptation from the drama of Seneca than as an original crea- tion. It would have been universally claimed that the writer who dealt with the English subject not only had patterned his hero after the model of the Roman statesman, philoso- pher, orator and author, but that he had borrowed the events depicted from the older tragedy, confining his original work chiefly to the changes required by the difference in the civilizations, nationalities and general environment, in order that the latter play might conform to the England of the early part of the sixteenth century. XIII.—A SURVEY OF THE FIRST CENTURY OF MODERN TIMES. The fall of Constantinople and the dawn of the first century of mod- ern times—The political revolution of this period—The down- fall of feudalistic anarchy and the reestablishment of central- ized power—What this change meant to the people and to civilization—The revolution in art in Italy—The New Learn- ing and the Reformation north of the Alps, or the revolution in religion—The march of science and progress as seen in such works as Copernicus accomplished ; the invention of the printing press, and the establishment of humane, liberal educational institutions—The revolution in commerce wrought by the discovery of the New World and the passage to India by Portugal—Leading factors and dominant ideals which pro- duced this five-fold revolution—The kinship of luminous peri- ods—A glance at the Periclean age—The golden age of Greece and the Renaissance compared—A survey of the transition period in which we are living—The century of Sir Thomas More and our time compared. Ix surveying the wonderful century which opened in 1453, when Constantinople fell and the scholarship of that old Christian capital was dispersed over western Europe, we are impressed with the universal unrest which characterized this period. Upon the forehead of this new day the word “ Change” was blazoned. The flight of the scholars from their home on the dreamy Bosphorus 271 272 A SURVEY OF THE FIRST CENTURY gave to the restless minds of western nations new ideas and thoughts, which became dom- inant influences in lives that moulded civ- lization afresh and stamped the age with the royalty of true genius. But the coming of the Eastern scholars, with the wealth of thought and ideals which had crowned Gre- cian civilization with unprecedented glory, was merely one of many influences which operated almost simultaneously at this point mm history. And perhaps the first thing that will impress the student trained to study history, as it has been written since /the days of Herodotus, will be the political revolution of this time, which marked the overthrow of the anarchistic feudalism of the Middle Ages, and the establishment of -entralization in government. The feudal barons sank before the kingly power; a change which carried with it evils and bless- mgs. The conditions essentially anarchical which prevailed when the nations were cut up into petty provinces and smaller feudal holdings were by no means favorable to prog- ress or the advance of civilization. So long as such conditions existed, war was neces- OF MODERN TIMES. 273 sarily the foremost occupation of a large proportion of those who served under nu- merous ambitious, unscrupulous and quarrel some lords, barons and princes. But, on the other hand, under the feudal system the poor had been in many ways better off than they were in the early years of triumphant mon- | archy. As vassals, they possessed houses and lived in a condition of comparative comfort, which was in numerous instances changed to a life of beggary, crime and starvation after the lords were humbled and impoverished. Sir Thomas More and other writers have given vivid pictures of the misery of the poor, during the decades which marked the transition from feudalism to the supremacy of monarchy, and for many years after the crown had been finally confirmed in power. Hence, whether we regard the over- throw of feudalism and the establishment of monarchy as a retrogressive step, or as a necessary stage in the evolution of govern- ment through order to liberty, we are bound to recognize this political revolution as one of the great factors which operated during this period in clanging the face, and to a 18 : 274 A SURVEY OF THE FIRST CENTURY great extent the course, of western civiliza- tion. The transition came largely as a natural result flowing from the essential anarchism and brigandage of feudalistic rule, and the tyranny and oppression which characterized baronial domination. It was rendered pos- sible by a widespread belief among the masses that the revolution would result in a larger freedom for them and a greater de- gree of prosperity, accruing from a more stable government. That the immediate re- sults of the establishment of kingly power were bitterly disappointing to the poor, at least in some quarters, as, for example, in England, is unquestionably true. Yet the change was undeniably beneficial in many ways, notably in cementing together in nations great groups of peoples who had wasted their energies in continual inter- necine struggles. Through uniting these rarious elements, order was in a great degree evoked, thus rendering constructive work possible. And among the beneficent fruits of this change we note the rise and onward march of literature and art, the development of domestic and foreign trade, the establish- OF MODERN TIMES. 275 ment of manufactures, the rapid extension of commerce, and the rise of invention. In a word, the energies of man, which had for generations been engrossed in the struggles of petty lords, barons and princes, were now turned from destructive to constructive work. Hence it is, I think, safe to say that the po- litical revolution of the Renaissance, though attended with widespread misery and charac- terized by much brutality, was favorable rather than otherwise to the advancement of | civilization. Moreover, the widespread igno- | rance among the masses and the essential | savagery of the public mind precluded the possibility of a successful republic, while, by centralizing the power, the task of placing responsibility for injustice and oppression was rendered much easier than under con- ditions such as marked feudalism. It is, of course, important for the student of history to gain a clear conception of the various rulers and what they accomplished during this period. But in a brief survey of a century, such as we are making, 1t 1s only possible to take cognizance of the most striking figures engaged in the art of war 276 A SURVEY OF THE FIRST CENTURY or the game of politics. Among these, in England, Edward IV, a vigorous and iron- handed but profligate monarch, Henry VIL, who by his marriage with Elizabeth, daughter of Edward IV., united the houses of York and Lancaster, and Henry VIII, whose stir- ring, despotic and turbulent rule marks one of the most momentous periods in British history, are the most prominent. It will be remembered that it was during the _ early decades of the century we are consider- ing that the terrible civil war of the Roses, which well-nigh destroyed royalty while compassing the overthrow of feudalism mn England, was waged. In France, Louis XI., often termed the Tiberius of France, a ruler who combined courage with cunning, but who was destitute of conscience and of honor, succeeded in breaking to a great degree the power of the feudal lords. The other sovereigns of France * during the century we are consider- * Although only regent and not mentioned as a sovereign by his- torians, Anne of Beaujeu, eldest daughter of Louis XI., must not be overlooked. This wonderful young woman during the seven years prior to Charles VIIL's reaching his twenty-first year was regent according to the provision made by Louis XI. In this capacity she displayed the most ability, wisdom. and in many respects states- OF MODERN TIMES. 277 ing were Charles VIII., Louis XII, and Francis I. The latter, known as the Father of Letters, was by far the most important French royalty of the century. He was aman of much greater power and merit than many historians have allowed. Notwithstanding a marked love of show and a shallow vanity, he was a warm friend of literature and art, which he patronized liberally. At his court Da Vinci spent the closing years of his turbulent life. Germany and Austria were slower to yield to the centralizing influences of the age than England and France. The em- perors of this period were Frederick IIL, Maximilian I., and Charles V. These rulers exerted more or less power over the German- speaking people, but the independent spirit of the Teutonic races rendered any step to- ward absolutism very perilous for a monarch. manship under the most trying ordeals of any French sovereign dur- ing the century. Her virtual reign affords a striking illustration of the capability of woman to rule. Nothing is more absurd than the shallow cry of little souls who claim that women have not the capacity to govern. Anne of Beaujeu reigned more wisely than any male ruler of France in her century; and in this connection let us remember that it was in the early part of the same century in which Anne of Beaujeu displayed her sagacity and intellectual power that the Maid of Orleans saved France from the English yoke. / 278 A SURVEY OF THE FIRST CENTURY In Spain, Ferdinand and Isabella were the most powerful rulers. During their reign Granada fell and the Moorish civilization was overthrown on the Spanish Peninsula. Columbus discovered America and the Spanish Inquisition was established. But we must not overlook Charles I. (who was also known as Charles V. of Germany), as this daring prince was one of those Napole- onic spirits who at intervals spread ruin and misery over wide expanses of the earth, that selfish or personal vanity and unbridled ambition may be satisfied. Such characters have been too frequently treated as heroes instead of being branded as despoilers of happiness, destroyers alike of the accumu- lated treasures of ages and the lives of their fellow-men. The states of Italy, as we have seen, were under many forms of more or less despotic rule. The great historical fact to be borne in mind 1s the political revolution of this age ; it effected the overthrow of feudalism and the establishment of centralized govern- ment. We next turn to the great threefold OF MODERN TIMES. 279 awakening of this century, which makes it unique in history, and from which flow consequences of measureless proportions. In | Italy, men’s intellect awoke on the beauty side of life. The rigid and narrow scholas- ticism of the Middle Ages had been pro- ductive of anything but wsthetic develop- ment. As Symonds observes: ‘During the middle ages man had lived enveloped in a cowl; he had not seen the beauty of the world, or had seen it only to cross him- self and turn aside to tell his beads and pray.” Now, in the very home of the church, asceticism gave way to estheticism, | and art, new-born, leaped from the brain of man. Angelo, Raphael, Da Vinei, Correg- gio, Titian, and several other master brains translated their wonderful dreams, concep- tions and ideals into objective beauty on canvas, or in stone or marble. The Italy of this period drew inspiration from the golden age of Grecian art and philosophy; and though, indeed, the expression of the genius of this later time took in its dominant ideas and conceptions a turn different from the elder, yet the student of history will be 980 A SURVEY OF THE FIRST CENTURY impressed with the kinship in thought, as- piration and accemplishment between the Periclean age of Greece and the Renaissance in Italy. Both were summer seasons for art and philosophy. In Italy, however, paint- ing more than sculpture engaged the artistic brain. It was earth’s golden age in painting, while speculative philosophy, metaphysics, poetry and belles-lettres, as well as sculpture and architecture, engrossed the mind of the learned. Quite as marked, but radically different, was the intellectual awakening: North of the Italian Peninsula. Here, the searching spirit predominated. If the soul of art blossomed in Ttaly, the soul of science was quickened north of the Alps. There man’s relation to creation and the vast problems connected with the verities of life and nature appealed to the brain in the realm of intellectual ac- tivity. It had been the spirit of unrest, or the searching mind, that invented the printing press just prior to the opening of this cent- ury, as it was the scientific spirit that urged Copernicus on and led him to take up and demonstrate the truth which had OF MODERN TIMES. 281 been dimly apprehended by the Pythagorean school of philosophers in the golden age of ancient Greece. It was this same loyalty to truth and passion for knowledge, blended with a sturdy sincerity, that demanded _ purity and honesty in religion as well as mn life, that fired Erasmus and the apostles of the new learning, and which made the words of Luther, Calvin, Zwingli and their co-laborers electrify the masses. It was the spiritual and ethical awakening of this age that led Colet to establish St. Paul's gram- mar school in London, Grocyn to found the college of physicians in London, and Sir Thomas More to write “ Utopia.” As the speculative and beauty sides of the human mind marked the best in life in Italy, the passion for truth and the scientific spirit were present in the movement north of the Alps, in which we see the moral and relig- ious energies of men profoundly stirred. It was an ethical, religious, and scientific revo- lution whose distinctive keynote is found in the searching spirit which troubled the brain of the sturdy Teutonic and Anglo-Saxon peoples, as the wind troubles the placid lake. 982 A SURVEY OF TIE FIRST CENTURY If from these clearly marked revolutions north and south of the Alps we turn to the Westward, we shall see, as has already been observed, another awakening none the less striking. But here, again, the dominant thought is unlike those which impelled the genius and the conscience of the peoples to whom we have referred. Here, the spirit of in- quiry indeed is present ; but itis not so marked as the passion for gold. In a word, the awakening 1s on another plane—the mania for wealth and the lust for power mingle with a spirit of religious fanaticism as intense, unreasoning and violent as that which marked the crusades. But the overmastering idea present in the Spanish Peninsula is a passion for the acquisition of wealth. It was the hope of gaining the gold of the Indies that led the Spanish crown to fit out the vessels for Columbus, as it had been the exaction in money and power which Columbus made a condition when he appealed to the king of Portugal that led to the prompt refusal of his demands. It was the same dream of acquiring the wealth of India that led Portugal to send Vasco de Gama OF MODERN TIMES. 283 to India round the Cape of Good Hope, thus opening the door of the Orient to western Europe. It was thirst for gold, power and conquest that led Cortes and other Spanish conquerors to engage in their merciless con- quests in America. In the overthrow of Granada, as in the establishment of the In- quisition, it 1s, of course, impossible to say how much the desire for the splendid terri- tory to be gained or the immense wealth which would flow from confiscations and seizures in the operation of the Inquisition, and how much religious zeal and that fright- ful fanaticism which expressed itself in 1in- describable savagery, figured as controlling influences. I am inclined to think that here religious fanaticism overmatched the lust for wealth and power ; but I think it fair to in- fer that the latter was in each case a factor of no insignificant proportions. The religious frenzy which expressed itself so terribly in the Spain of this century, and which was the precursor of the darkest night of barbarity in our era, belonged essentially to an awakening on the physical or material side of man. Such was in brief the characteristic 984 A SURVEY OF THE FIRST CENTURY OF MODERN TIMES. 285 of the Spanish Peninsula of this century: a age of notable awakening and marvellous pro- mania for gold, which should give power gress. Itmarksa distinct epoch in the annals and supply the means for the gratification of of man’s advancement, and it laid the founda- passion and ambition, was the dominating tion for the great century in which we live, as thought of the region. the age of Phidias supplied the Renaissance or This threefold awakening, together with with inspiration in the domains of art, phi- the struggle of the spirit of freedom with losophy, and literature. Indeed, there seems | the monarchical bias, led to a fivefold rev- to be a subtle but conspicuous kinship | olution, which may be readily fixed in the among the luminous periods of history. | mind of the student by the following simple Take, for example, the age of Pericles and diagram of a five-pointed star : j compare it with that of More, and we find Na a most striking similarity in the many-sided character of the intellectual awakening and the transcendent brilliancy and profundity of the genius which both produced. The former century, extending from 500 B. c. to 400 B. C., witnessed the declining years of Pythagoras and Confucius. It produced Phidias, Socrates, Plato, Pericles, Herodotus, Hippocrates, Euripides, Sophocles, Thucy- dides, and Xenophon ; it was this period that witnessed the erection of the Parthenon in Athens, as the Renaissance witnessed the building of St. Peter's in Rome. In survey- It will be seen that this was one of the ing the century of Sir Thomas More we shall royal centuries in the history of humanity ; an find that the intellectual activity was more 286 A SURVEY OF THE FIRST CENTURY general, and that it extended in a very real manner over a wider territory, than did the: awakening in the age of Pericles. The cent- ury in which we are living is another transi- tion period ; but because we are in the midst of a many-sided revolution, because half a century lies before us, and because it is only after a period is past that we can meas- ure the greatness of its achievement, it is impossible for us to comprehend the mag- nitude of the movements in the social and political worlds, which are now crystallizing in the popular mind, the far-reaching ex- tent of the revolution in religion, resulting largely from modern scientific revelation, archaeological research, critical methods applied to the Bible, comparative religious criticism, psychical research, and the wide diffusion of knowledge, which bid fair to out- shine the Reformation in their influence. (1) Men will doubtless be brought to a greater appreciation of the need of a religion that shall be expressed in lives of nobleness, gentle- ness and love rather than dogmatics and cast- iron theologies. (2) The scientific revolution brought about by Darwin, Spencer, Wallace, OF MODERN TIMES. 287 and their illustrious co-laborers parallels the Copernican discovery ; as the great astronomer gave man a broader, a grander and a more dignified conception of the universe, so the evolutionary theory is giving to life a new dignity and establishing the presence and succession of law throughout all the universe. As Columbus gave the elder civilization a new world, the wonderful inventors of our age have knit together all nations, and have indeed given us a New World. But, as before observed, it is impossible to measure the achievements of a century not yet half- spent, or to estimate the magnitude of what has already been achieved. There is, however, another thought that challenges the attention of the student of his- tory and is worthy of passing notice. In how far is one great period of awakening depend- ent on similar periods which have preceded it? What is the kinship amongst the sun-kissed eras of civilization ? It is generally admitted that it was the rediscovered Greece, the open- ing of the treasury of art, literature and phi- losophy which came to the Italian mind after the fall of Constantinople, that was one of 988 A SURVEY OF THE FIRST CENTURY | the leading causes of the Renaissance and the ‘New Learning. Indeed, the very terms in- dicate the debt felt by the later to the former time. And it was the golden age of Pericles that produced the greatest sculptors, two of the world’s greatest philosophers, and the father of medicine, to say nothing of the dramatic poets and scholars who enriched the literature of the world. It was this cent- ury that witnessed the closing years of Py- thagoras, who may be said to have been the John the Baptist that prepared the way for Copernicus. Then, when we turn from the century of More to our own time, we are impressed with the same idea of the kinship of supreme mo- ments in human progress. There is the same unrest and intellectual activity to-day as in the days which followed the Fall of Constanti- nople, among the masses with dogmatic re- ligion, which has become rich and powerful, and is more concerned with creed and dogma than with life, more anxious for the outward form and letter than for the spirit of religion, wore desirous of holding the favor of the rich and powerful than defending, ‘protecting and OF MODERN TIMES. 289 aiding the poor and down-trodden, the same widespread dissatisfaction as was seen when the Reformation burst forth with the strength of a western prairie fire; on the other hand, we find the same protest among the nobler religious natures, as when Savonarola, Erasmus, and Zwingh combated the essential materialism of the church. The apostles of the higher criticism to-day are doing what those great minds in the earlier century cad. Though the contention 1s somewhat different, the result must necessarily be similar, each group battling for a braver and truer recogni- tion of the truth and a purer and finer religious life which must follow a higher conception of God and man. As Savonarola raised his prophet voice against the worship of wealth and the moral degradation of the church, in the elder days, men like Professor Herron, imbued with the same spirit, are assailing the criminal cowardice and subserviency of the church, which too frequently fawns before a cor- rupt plutocracy, to-day. Everywhere do we see signs of an impending religious refor- mation or revolution greater than that which in the sixteenth century asserted the right of 290 A SURVEY OF THE FIRST CENTURY man to use his God-given brain, and which denied the sovereignty of the church. Nor is this all ; as in the younger century Coper- nicus revolutionized man’s conception of the heavens, and in so doing gave to thought a new heaven, and as Columbus by discover- mg America gave civilization a new earth, soin our century the great physical scientists have given man a new bible of biological truth, while psychologists and students of psychical science are opening to us year by year a new world in the realm of mind and are laying the foundation for a scientific religion. And with this awakening comes a broad, courageous and independent spirit, which eagerly reaches out to other lands and to bygone ages to investigate anew whatever truth may be offered or discovered. This, it will be remembered, was also a distinguishing feature of the Renaissance. In social and political ideals, a revolution 1s in progress no less marked than that which overthrew the anarchy of feudalism and estab- lished the centralization of power. This revolution was foreshadowed by Sir Thomas OF MODERN TIMES. 291, 1 i More. Indeed, he may be said to have sowed| the seed-thought of the popular ideals which | are spreading throughout the civilized world.’ A true “ Utopia,” or Altruria, founded, how- ever, on less arbitrary principles, on a broader and more republican ideal, as becomes the broader thought of our age, is the inspiration round which are rallying the social democrats of the various schools. They rightly discard the idea of kingship and the militarism of Sir Thomas More’s social scheme, but they see that his dream was not visionary ; that if all special privileges be abolished, or,in a word, if society ceases to indulge in the most vicious kind of paternalism (protecting and “cod- dling ” a small number of her offspring at the expense of the millions), the storehouse of nature and the facilities of civilization will yield abundance for all the children of men who choose to labor and enjoy. And they are beginning to understand that the creed « All for all” bears with it the happiness of the individual no less than the progress and elevation of humanity. As commerce and discovery were among the dominating ideas of the younger century, SO invention and W—— ; - 202 A SURVEY OF THE FIRST CENTURY the scientific knowledge which shall lead to the utilization of the finer forces of nature are among the regnant forces of to-day. Steam as a carrier, though a discovery of the earlier half of the present cen- tury, has been brought into so universal use during recent years, that the century beginning with 1850 realizes as has no other age its benefits ; and electricity, of later dis- covery, is in many places supplanting the less subtle agent, while it is lighting the world as well as, through the telegraph and cable, knitting together the remotest corners of the earth. The invention of the telephone, the phonograph, the spectroscope, and pneumatic tube has occurred since 1850. Moreover, it is safe to say that never before have so many trained intellects been engaged in in- vention as to-day. Philosophers and scien- tists also are engaged on mighty problems which promise for humanity still more daz- zling victories, among which perhaps the knowledge which it is believed will come from the understanding of the vibratory laws, the study of which is engrossing the attention of so many thinking minds, suggests results the OF MODERN TIMES. 293 most far-reaching. In the earlier century books were printed and the first modern newspaper was published (issued in Venice, 1536). To-day we see the fruitage of the invention of Gutenberg in the myriads of volumes that place knowledge within the reach of the humblest ; and the daily paper, no longer the luxury of the rich, is read by millions. Colet, in the century of More, laid the foundation for popular, humane and rational education in establishing St. Paul’s Latin-grammar school, an idea which has grown and expanded into the peerless democratic school-system of our ration. And so, in numerous other ways, we might trace the results of ideals held by the loftier souls of the earlier century, no less than the wonderful kinship in’ ideas which con- nect the century of Sir Thomas More and the century whose magnificent meridian we are now approaching. THE END. AUTHORITIES CONSULTED. In this work, whenever direct quotations have been made, I have endeavored to give the authorities either in the text or in footnotes. The preparation of the volume has required the careful reading of several thousand pages of matter, and it is my desire to credit the authorities to whom I am indebted for information touching the history, the events and the leading lives of the wonderful century which I have tried to briefly outline in so far as it related to Western Europe. Among the works consulted I desire to mention Green's « History of the English People,” Hume's ** History of England,” Froude’s * History of England,” Froude’s «Life and Letters of Erasmus,” Roper’s ** Life of Sir Thomas More,” Maurice Adams’ Sketch of Sir Thomas More,” Victor Duruy’s ‘ History of Modern Times,” Guizot's ** History of France,” John Addington Sy- monds’ seven volumes relating to the ** Italy of the Re- naissance,” and his admirable * Life of Michael Angelo Buonarroti.” Also the biographies of Michael Angelo Buonarroti, by Charles Clément ; Leonardo Da Vinci, by Dr. J. Paul Richter ; Correggio, by M. C. Heaton ; Raphael, by N. D’Anvers ; Titian, by R. F. Heath, M. A.; F. M. Sweetser’s ‘ Illustrated Biographies of the Great Artists,” and Clements R. Markham’s ** History of Peru.” 1 have in all cases carefully examined the papers relat- ing to the principal events and personages of this century in the last edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, as these contributions are on the whole scholarly, concise and impartial. Among the articles that have been of special value in the preparation of this work are those dealing with the Reformation, the Medici, Savonarola, Luther, Calvin, and Sir Thomas More. Among many other works which have been perused, I would mention Castelar’s «Old Rome and New Italy.” Castelar’s * Life of Columbus,” and Irving's ¢ Fall of Granada.” My aim in preparing this book has been, as far as pos- sible, by comparison of authorities and careful examina- tion of the various aspects of the age, to arrive at the truth, and to state the same impartially and in as brief a manner as it could be done, in order to convey to the mind of the busy reader an intelligent idea of a century which up to that period fad no peer. Gerald MassCy: ime um Mystic. A study of the life and thought of rYVYYYY England's Poet of the People. BY B. OO. FLOWER, ILLUSTRATED BY LAURA LEE. CRITICAL PRESS OPINIONS. Mr. B. O. Flower's latest work is a scholarly discussion of the life and work of Massey, poet, prophet, and mystic. One of the feature chapters is that in which the author traces the points of resemblance between Massey and Whittier. There are frequent quotations from the poet, but they are none too frequent, since they reveal to us the inner life of the man. — Daily Advertiser, Boston, Mass. A most appreciative and tender tribute to one of England’s lesser but noble song writers. No such presentation of the poet’s charac- ter and work has yet been seen on this side the water.— Daily Traveler, Boston, Mass. A handsome volume, both in print and illustrations, which presents briefly, but pointedly, the life and work of Gerald Massey. Our author finds a striking resemblance between Massey and our own loved Quaker poet, Whittier. Both were tireless reformers, “pas” sionately in love with the beauty in common life.” Both hated injustice with all their powers of mind, with prophetic and intuitive insight as to coming events. They both ¢ revealed beauties within and without the homes of the humble,” and were fearless in denun- ciation of wrong-doing. The work is handsomely illustrated, but the text alone makes it an interesting and even charming book. Mr: Flower makes free quotations from the gems of many of Massey's inspiring songs, and brings out admirably the leading traits of character that shaped his life and inspired his writing. — Daily Inter-Ocean, Chicago, 1/1. : Price, extra cloth, gilt side and back dies, $1.00. Arena Publishing Co., - Boston, Mass. i 1 Gerald Massey: ime a Mystic. A study of the life and thought of England's Poet of the People. PRP RYEY BY B. O. FLOWER. ILLUSTRATED BY LAURA LEE. CRITICAL PRESS OPINIONS. Mr. B. O. Flower’s latest work is a scholarly discussion of the life and work of Massey, poet, prophet, and mystic. One of the feature chapters is that in which the author traces the points of resemblance between Massey and Whittier. There are frequent quotations from the poet, but they are none too frequent, since they reveal to us the inner life of the man. — Daily Advertiser, Boston, Mass. A most appreciative and tender tribute to one of England’s lesser but noble song writers. No such presentation of the poet’s charac- ter and work has yet been seen on this side the water.— Daily Traveler, Boston, Mass. A handsome volume, both in print and illustrations, which presents briefly, but pointedly, the life and work of Gerald Massey. Our author finds a striking resemblance between Massey and our own loved Quaker poet, Whittier. Both were tireless reformers, “pas” sionately in love with the beauty in common life.” Both hated injustice with all their powers of mind, with prophetic and intuitive insight as to coming events. They both * revealed beauties within and without the homes of the humble,” and were fearless in denun- ciation of wrong-doing. The work is handsomely illustrated, but the text alone makes it an interesting and even charming book. Mr: Flower makes free quotations from the gems of many of Massey's inspiring songs, and brings out admirably the leading traits of character that shaped his life and inspired his writing. — Daily Inter-Ocean, Chicago, 1/1. : Price, extra cloth, gilt side and back dies, $1.00. Arena Publishing Co., - Boston, Mass. 2% 1 dal (A AI Civilization’s Inferno OR, Studies in the Social Cellar. By B. 0. FLOWER. This work contains vivid pen pictures of the social cellar as Mr. Flower found it, and is one of the most fearless and able presenta- tions of the condition of society's exiles which has ever been made. It carries the reader into the social cellar where uninvited poverty abounds, and from there into the sub-cellar, or the world of the criminal poor. It is rich in suggestive hints, and should be in the hands of every thoughtful man and woman in America. Absorbingly interesting and at times thrilling, no one can read its pages without being made better for the perusal. CRITICAL OPINION FROM REPRESENTATIVE AMERICAN JOURNALS. It is a truthful and graphic delineation of the condition of the people in the social undertow. Mr. Flower has a keen and profound sympathy with the difficulties that the poor are laboring under, and he describes what he has seen with his own eyes in terms that chill one’s blood. He does not hesitate to call things by their right names, and points out the magnitude of the peril, showing that no palliative meas- ures will satisfy the people. — Daily Herald, Boston, Mass. Society, as it is now constituted, is nothing less than a sleeping volcano. Who dares to say how soon the upheaval will come, or whether it can be evaded by the adoption of prompt measures of relief? Certainly the condition of the lower social strata calls for immediate action on the part of those whose safety is at stake. Mr. Flower has accomplished a great work in setting forth the exact truth of the matter, without any effort at palliation. It will be well, indeed, for the prosperous classes of the community if they are warned in time. — Boston Beacon, Boston, Mass. A thoughtful work by a thoughtful man, and should turn the minds of many who are now ignorant or careless to the condition of the countless thousands who live in the * social cellar.” No one can read the book without feeling that the author’s diagnosis of the case is true and gives each one his own personal responsibility. — Courier-Fournal, Louisville, Ky- What General Booth has done for London, and Mr. Jacob Riis for New York, Mr. Flower has done for cultured Boston. He is a professional man of letters, and tells his story with the skill and knack of his craft.— Daily Constitution, Atlanta, Ga. Cloth, $1.00. Paper, 50 cents. Arena Publishing Co., - Boston, Mass. The New Time. A Plea for the Union of the Moral Se Forces for Practical Progress. By B. 0. FLOWER. tna aa ee A worthy companion to « Civilizations Inferno. Constructive in character and abounding in helpful suggestions. Critical Press Opinions. It is a fervent plea for the union and practical coliperation, of all those who are interested in the welfare of humanity, and w 2 e ave that it is their duty to do their utmost toward alleviating the ster. ings of their less fortunate fellow mortals. Mr. Flower ba irm believer in the ultimate triumph of the spirit of fraternity an Justo, and in this little book he suggests how this spirit may be ostered throughout the United States. There are many loving sou Soho claims, in every city, town, and village, who would fain Soen¢ of their lives in aiding their fellows, and he maintains that a Won. drous amount of good would be the result if only These i wg children of light could be properly organized. Undou te uy e 3s right, and it would not surprise us if this idea took Fook i 8) ay not all possess Mr. Flower’s enthusiasm, but we must 2 a i ¥ the eloquence with which he pictures the “new time ior whic be earns, — the time when .all men will be brothers an a v Tule the earth. — New York Daily Herald, New York, NV. Y. It has a pertinence and value for all who have read and thesghi about the social problems of our day; and the information v ich the author puts into such a moderate compass will also serve al hie ably to interest many in social literature who have heen Sere y rumor from touching these «fantastic theories.” * It is facts, ® S, facts, which ‘The New Time’ marshals before the ag a of the every-day, commonplace, humdrum life about us. ae reader will find in this book much food for solid, hard thinking. Here Bre put into a small compass a body of concrete remedial measures for an immediate and practical organization of social reform ages, It shows how existing evils can be modified, and gives the rend 2 contemporary social thought and its evolutionary process toWax i ultimate goal of the highest social good. — Boston Home Journal, Boston, Mass. : ; Extra cloth, gilt back and side dies, 81.00. Paper, 25 cents. Arena Publishing Co., = Boston, Mass. / Persons, Places and Ideas. By B. O. FLOWER. A Superb Presentation Volume. Magnificently illustrated, with over thirty full-page half-tone pictures, and numerous smaller illustrations. Edition limited to one thousand copies. Printed on heavy plate paper. The following is a partial table of contents : Charles Darwin: A Character Sketch. With full-page portrait of the great scientist. An Idealistic Dreamer, Who Sings in a lNinor Key, With full-page portrait of Louise CHANDLER MOULTON. Mask or Tlirror. A discussion of the difference between Artificiality and Veri- tism on the Stage. With four illustrations. A Poet of the People. With full-page portrait of James G. Clark. After Sixty Years. Chester-on=the=Dee. With full-page illustrations. Strolis Outside the Walls of Chester. With full-page illustrations. Winter Days in Florida. With full-page illustrations. Religious Ideals of Colonial Days as lirrored in Poetry and Song. Room for the Soul of Man. Crucial Moments in National Life. The August Present. Of this notable work, Lillian Whiting, the well-known Boston critic, journalist, and essayist, writes : ‘“ I'ypegraphically, Persons, Places, and Ideas is a dream of beauty, and in its vitality of thought, its nobility of purpose, its wide range, itis a book singularly cal- culated to enrich and exalt life.” ‘“ A large and elegantly printed volume made up of sixteen essays and descriptive sketches, by B. O. Flower, the editor of the A»enza. Mr. Flower is known as one of the most earnest and assiduous of our literary laborers, and some of the best of his work is included in the present volume. It is printed on heavy plate paper; bound in buckiam, with gilt top and deckel edges.’’— Boston Transcript, Boston, Mass. An admirable presentation volume. It is divided into three parts, the first and second containing carefully prepared and fascinating biographical sketches of emi- nent persons and chapters descriptive of historical and picturesque haunts; the third being devoted to essays which in their thoroughly optimistic tone will be found most helpful and elevating. The volume is profusely illustrated.’ —- Boston Daily Advertiser, Boston, Mass. Magnificently bound in faney cloth, elaborate gilt side and back, with gilt top, uncut edges. Price, $3.00. ARENA PUBLISHING CO .. BOSTON, MASS. 4 THE MASTER NEGATIVE,FROM WHICH THIS REPRODUCTION WAS MADE, 1S STORED UNDER THE SUPERVISION OF THE LIBRARY PHOTOGRAPHIC SERVICE, ROOM 20, MAIN LIBRARY, UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA 9 4h 7 2 0 FOR ADDITIONAL REPRODUCTION REQUEST MASTER NEGATIVE NUMBER Reduction